“Well,” Allie said, with a grin, “I do know a twelve-step program.” Then she grabbed Mikey’s hand, climbed on the horse with him, and they rode off together toward all things unknown.
Nick had to win this race, even if the odds were against him, and so when the ghost train dropped him off at old Penn Station, he wasted no time. It was dusk now. The train had been fast, but an airship didn’t have to worry about tracks.
His only hope was that Mary’s learning curve when it came to flying the thing had slowed her down. When she had first taken to the air, the airship was erratic, turning this way and that, unable to set a course. With any luck, she was still zigzagging across New Jersey, trying to get the hang of it.
He ran at full speed from the station all the way down to the plaza at the base of the towers. The same kids were there playing kickball, jumping rope and playing tag.
“Is Mary here?” he called out. He expected them to rush him and capture him.
What was Mary’s version of chiming? Nick had a suspicion that he was about to find out.
But they didn’t rush him. Instead, one of the kickball kids playing the outfield turned to him and said, “Meadow says she went away for a while, but shell be back real soon.”
Good, thought Nick, he had beaten her here—and now, when he looked west, he could see that he hadn’t beaten her by much. Between the buildings to the west, Nick could see the zeppelin in the sky across the Hudson River, still high, but dropping toward them. It couldn’t be any more than five miles away. Nick knew he didn’t have much time.
“Go get Meadow,” he told the kickball kid. “Tell her to gather everyone at the fountain.” Then the kickball kid ran off, confounding the daily pattern of his game.
Nick went over to the fountain himself, and stood on its lip, calling out to all the kids in the plaza.
“Everyone! Everyone listen to me! I have a message from Mary!”
That got their attention. Jump ropes stopped spinning, balls stopped bouncing.
Kids began to converge on the fountain.
Nick looked to the west again: The airship was there, halfway across the river.
It was still too high, but that didn’t matter—as soon as the kids saw it, the game would be over. He would lose their attention. He had to keep everyone focused on him.
Meadow began to arrive with kids from the higher floors. “Mary wants me to tell you that you no longer have to fear the McGill. She’s cut him down to size! “
A cheer from the kids.
“And,” said Nick, “I have something very exciting to tell you!” Okay, thought Nick. Here it goes…. “How many of you threw your wishes into the fountain?”
Every hand went up.
“And how many of your wishes came true?”
One by one the hands went down, until not a single one of them was left.
“Well,” said Nick, “it’s time for all your wishes to come true.” And with that he jumped into the fountain, reached into the water, and started pulling up coins. “C’mon,” he said. “Everyone gets their coin back!”
At first they were reluctant… until the first girl came forward, all pigtails and big eyes. She stepped into the fountain, and Nick took a coin, pressing it into her palm. The entire crowd watched and saw with their own eyes what happened next.
The girl got where she was going.
There was a long moment of silence as it hit home for these kids exactly what this meant for each of them…and then they all began climbing into the fountain themselves, lining up, and accepting the coins from Nick. In less than a minute their excitement reached critical mass, all sense of order broke down, and it became a wild rush of kids leaping, splashing, grabbing coins and disappearing in rainbow sprays of light. Nick left the fountain, and stood back to watch.
To the west, the zeppelin was growing larger as it neared, eclipsing the setting sun, but if the kids crowding the fountain noticed, they didn’t care. By the time Mary arrived, she would be too late; they’d be gone. Perhaps not every single one of them, but most of them. All the ones who were ready. As it should be.
Nick looked up to the peaks of the Twin Towers, converging as they scraped the sky. He marveled at their majesty the way tourists had during the Towers’ twenty-nine years of life. It was a comfort to know that they would never be gone completely because they were here, a timeless part of Everlost. They were great monuments of memory, and although Mary had, for a time, turned them into her own personal orphanage, that was over now. They had a greater place in the scheme of things.
By now more than half the children were gone, and the rest were well on the way.
Meadow came up to Nick, and together they watched the joyful vanishings.
“Mary’s going to have a fit when she sees this,” Meadow said. “It’ll totally trip her out.” Then she smiled. “Good thing I won’t be here to see it.”