“That you’re not going off to war?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” Tick couldn’t believe how the minutes dragged by.
“Many lives are at stake. That’s what the man said, right?”
His dad’s voice shook, worrying Tick. But he had no idea what to say. “I promise I’ll come back, Dad. No matter what, I promise to come back.”
“I don’t know what scares me more,” Dad said. “Letting you run off on your adventure or knowing I have to somehow tell your mom tonight that you may not come back for awhile. Can you imagine how much that woman’s going to worry? I may be strung up on a pole when you return.”
“Dad, how long have you guys been married?”
“Almost twenty years. Why?”
“Don’t you think she trusts you?”
“Well . . . yeah. What are you, a psychologist now?”
Tick shrugged. “No, I just think Mom will understand, that’s all. She’s always taught me right from wrong, hasn’t she? And to make sacrifices for other people—to serve other people. I’m just obeying orders, right?”
His dad shook his head in mock disbelief. “Professor, I can’t believe you’re only thirteen years old.”
“Thirteen and a half.”
His dad barked a laugh, then pulled Tick into a hug, squeezing him tight. “You better be off now, son. Don’t want to take any chances of being late, now do you?”
“Nope.” Tick returned the hug, trying to fight off tears.
“I love you, Atticus. I’m so proud of what you’re doing.” His dad pulled back, still holding Tick by both shoulders as he looked into his eyes. “You go and make the Higginbottom family proud, okay? You go out there and fight for what’s right, and fight for those who need your help.”
“I love you, too, Dad,” Tick said, hating how simple and stupid it sounded, but feeling the truth of it in his heart. They hugged again, for a very long minute.
Finally, without any need for additional words, Tick turned from his dad, walked down the stairs of the porch, waved one last time, then headed for his destiny.
He only wished he knew what it was.
Yeah, right, Edgar thought as Tick disappeared down the dark road. Like I’m going to let my only son run off to who-knows-what all alone.
Edgar turned and hurried back inside where he grabbed the flashlight and binoculars he’d hidden in the closet. Though he really did believe in the whole Master George affair, he was also a father, and he couldn’t just let Tick go on his adventure without a little . . . supervision. After all, the clues hadn’t banned anyone from being near the cemetery, now had they?
“Honey, Tick and I are going for a walk!” he yelled upstairs.
“This late?” her muffled voice called from the bedroom. “Why?”
“Don’t worry . . . I’ll explain everything when we get back!” He groaned at the prospect.
Before she could reply, Edgar was out the front door and down the porch steps. He’d have to be quick if he wanted to keep up with Tick.
One thing, Edgar vowed as he walked down the driveway. I see one suspicious thing and I’m ending this.
By the time Tick reached the forest-lined road that led to town, the sun had made its last glimmer upon the world and gone to bed for the night. Now past eight o’clock, darkness settled on the town of Deer Park, Washington, and Tick felt himself shiver despite the warm and comfortable air.
He couldn’t believe it was here. The Big Day. The Big Night.
As he walked down the lonely road, the constant buzz of the forest insects broken only occasionally by a passing car, he ran through everything he needed to do in his mind. Even though it seemed so simple, he knew he only had one shot at this and didn’t want to mess everything up. Dual feelings of excitement and apprehension battled over his emotional state, making him nauseated and anxious for it to be over, one way or another.
He arrived at the town square and passed the fountain area, where the shooting display of water had been turned off for the night, and made his way down the small one-way lane that led to the old city cemetery. A few people walked about the square, but it mostly seemed vacant and silent, like a premonition that something very bad was about to happen to this quiet and unassuming town.
Quit freaking yourself out, Tick told himself. Everything’s going to be fine.
The entrance to the Deer Park Cemetery was a simple stone archway, both sides connected to a cast-iron fence encircling the entire compound. There was no gate, as though those in charge figured if some psycho wanted to visit dead people in the middle of the night, more power to them. As for grave digging, that had gone out of style with Dr. Frankenstein a couple of hundred years ago.
Tick paused below the chipped granite of the arch and looked at his watch, clicking the little light button on the side to see the big digital numbers: 8:37. Just over twenty minutes to go.
The moon, almost full, finally slipped above the horizon, casting a pale radiance upon the hundreds of old-fashioned tombstones; they seemed to glow in the dark around the chiseled letters declaring the names and dates of the dead. Barely defined shadows littered the ground, like holes had opened up throughout the graveyard, zombies having escaped to wreak their nightly havoc.
Once again, Tick shivered. No doubt about it, this was plain creepy.
Hoping it didn’t matter exactly where he stood when he performed his little song and dance as long as he was inside the cemetery, Tick stayed close to the entrance, near a tight pack of graves reserved for young children. Tick pulled out his flashlight and flicked it on, examining some of the names while he waited for the last few minutes to pass. Most of the names he didn’t know, but he did recognize a few that had been much-publicized tragedies over the last few years. A car accident. Cancer.
Despite his youth, Tick knew there must be nothing in the world so bad as losing one of your kids. Like he’d just swallowed a bag of sand, it hit him then that if anything happened to him tonight, his mom would be devastated. His poor mom. Of course, she’d be so busy yelling at his dad for letting him go in the first place that maybe she wouldn’t have the time or energy to hurt properly.
He turned off his flashlight and returned it to his bag. He pulled out the jacket and gloves and put them on, not wanting to take any chances that the instructions to dress warmly had been anything but literal. He tightened his scarf and glanced at his watch. He could see the numbers perfectly in the moonlight.
Five minutes to go.
He put his backpack on the ground, then thought better of it, swinging it back onto his shoulders. If he were about to magically travel somewhere, much better to have everything . . . attached.
For the millionth time, he wondered which was stranger—the things he’d been through or the fact that he actually believed there was something true behind it all. That he wasn’t crazy.
One minute to go.
Tick stared at his watch now, clicking the button that made it show the ticking seconds as well as the hour and minute. As the appointed time grew closer and closer, his heart picked up; sweat beaded all over his body; he felt himself on the verge of throwing up.
Ten seconds.
He quickly put his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, counting down the last few seconds inside his mind.
Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . .
Tick closed his eyes and shouted out the words, “MASTER GEORGE!” He stomped the ground below him ten times with his right foot and a quick and cold shiver of excitement went up and down his back.
Tick waited, holding his breath for a long minute. He finally opened his eyes and looked around, but saw that he stood in the exact same spot as when he began. Everything was the same. He waited longer still, hoping something would change around him. Several more minutes passed. Then a half hour. Then an hour. Then two. Desperate, he went through the entire ritual again.
Nothing happened.
Absolutely nothing.
Chapter
37
A Familiar Name
Knowing for a fact he’d never felt so depressed in all his life, Tick began the long walk back home. He wished he had a cell phone so he could prevent his dad from telling his mom about everything—now that it was all moot. Now that Tick had failed, and wouldn’t be going anywhere after all. At least then he could enjoy the one saving grace of Mom not thinking her husband and only son had gone bonkers.
If the town had been quiet before, it now seemed completely devoid of any life whatsoever. Tick didn’t see one person as he walked past the fountain area, and there wasn’t a light to be seen anywhere. Even the streetlamps had been extinguished, or they’d burned out. Only the moon shone its pale milky brilliance around the square, making everything look like a much bigger version of the graveyard he’d just left.
Dead and quiet. Full of shadows.
Tick picked up his pace.
When he left the town behind him and started down the long road leading to his house, the creepiness increased. He couldn’t explain it, but Tick felt a constant chill in his bones, like something very big and very hungry watched him from the woods. He looked back and forth, scanning both sides of the road, but saw only the tall shadows of the trees, black on black. This time, Tick threw all reservations out the window and simply ran, resolving not to stop until he lay in his bed where he could cry himself to sleep.
As he jostled down the road, concentrating on his feet so he wouldn’t trip, Tick had to consciously ignore the feeling that an enormous ghost was right behind him, ready to tap him on the shoulder. Goose bumps broke out all over his body, slick with sweat. He kept running.
He made it to his neighborhood and finally to his house, not slowing until he reached the porch. He stopped, bending over with his hands on his knees as he gulped in air to catch his breath. He didn’t want to walk back inside panting like a chased dog. But then the feeling he’d had near the forest returned full force and he ran up the steps to the front door.
The handle rattled when he gripped it, but didn’t turn. Locked. He glanced at his watch where he could barely see it was just past eleven o’clock. Tick stepped back, looking for the first time at all the windows on the bottom floor. He should’ve noticed before—everything was dark, not a single light was on in the house. Yes, it was late, but his dad was supposed to be telling a very long story to his mom, so surely his parents were still up. They would stay up and watch for him, wouldn’t they?
Tick knew his dad kept a spare key to the house hidden in a fake rock placed behind the bushes. He walked back down the porch steps and searched for it, even getting down on his knees to feel around with his hands. But they came up empty, even after scouring the usual area several times.
He couldn’t find the key anywhere.
Tick sat back on his heels. What in the world?
Frustrated, Tick gave up and walked back to the front door, where he reluctantly pushed the doorbell.
A long moment passed. No one answered. Not a sound came from within the house. Tick, getting more worried by the second, pushed the doorbell again.
Still no response.
Finally, in a panic, he pushed the bell over and over again, hearing the loud ring through the wood of the door. He stopped when he heard a booming shout; it sounded like it came from one of the upstairs bedrooms. The shout was followed by a quick series of loud thumps—someone running down the stairs. Then the door jerked open, revealing a man Tick had never seen before in his life.