g story short, Esben: We need you to come with us. We can get you back to South Wood. The Governess is long gone; we were there when she—” He hesitated before saying that she’d died—it hadn’t exactly been the case. “Disappeared,” was the word he decided on.
Still, the bear was silent.
“Why won’t you talk to us?” asked Prue, feeling increasingly desperate. Some of the crates and cages behind them were being loaded onto awaiting flatbed trucks; a train could be heard in the distance, idling its engine. “We know you can talk. We know you’re from the Wood.”
Curtis tried flattery. “Nice work in there, by the way. Really impressive stuff. I think you’ve made the most of your, you know …” Again he paused, searching for the right word. “Disability.”
The glowing eyes shifted to stare at Curtis; he thought he could read a growing anger in them. The bear’s breathing had become more rapid. Curtis looked over at Prue to see that she was shooting him a disapproving look.
She cleared her throat. “We need you to come with us. We need you to come back to South Wood.”
The bear let out a low growl. It seemed to issue from some deep part of his gut. His refusal to talk was disturbing to Curtis; for a moment he considered the possibility that they had the wrong guy, that the two hooks were only a coincidence. Maybe they were really just talking to a normal bear.
Prue continued, “Listen. We know that you were treated terribly. Believe us, we know what a horrible woman the Governess was. But she was crazy. She thought that what she was doing was best for the country. And maybe she was right. I’m from the Outside, but I’m half-blood. The Council Tree of North Wood has spoken to me; it’s told me that in order to save the Wood, I need to find you and the other maker. We need your help. Desperately.”
“You need to reanimate Alexei, the mechanical boy prince,” interjected Curtis. He spoke with an urgency pushed along by the milling crew members, who would, no doubt, discover them momentarily.
With an explosive ferocity, the bear erupted into motion, throwing himself against the bars of the cage. He let out an enormous roar that flattened the hair on Curtis’s head and caused Prue to let out a scream. They both fell back into the mud, their faces wet with the bear’s spittle. A commotion arose from the workers behind them; they were alerted to the bear’s anger and began running in the direction of the cage.
Curtis, at a loss for words, did something impulsive. As he watched the bear retreat back into the shadows, the air echoing with the shouts of the circus crew, he reached for the medal at his chest. It was the one that he’d been given by the moles, the one with the man giving the thumbs-up. The one that said ZEKE on the bottom. Pulling it from his chest, he stood up and set it between the bars of the cage and slid it toward the bear. Just as he’d done so, the men from the circus were upon them.
“What’re you kids doin’ back here?” one shouted.
“Who let you in?” yelled another.
The voice of the security guard, the one who’d been a victim of Septimus’s gambit, rose above the rest. “Those are them kids! They musta snuck back!”
Within seconds, the rough hands of the workers were on their shoulders, and the two of them, Prue and Curtis, were being marched toward the gate. Prue gave a quick look over her shoulder and watched as Esben’s cage receded into the distance. Before she and Curtis were rudely thrown through the gate of the fence and her line of vision was cut off completely, she saw a crew of men begin pushing the cage toward an awaiting freight car.
The sound of scurrying alerted them to Septimus’s arrival. He leapt onto Curtis’ shoulder, and once he was sure there were no Outsiders in earshot, he whispered to the two children, “What happened? Where’s Esben?”
“He won’t come,” said Curtis.
“What?”
“That’s it,” said Prue. “He won’t even speak to us.”
“After all that?” hissed the rat. “I had to brave that guy’s hairy back for nothing? Ungrateful bear.”
The train gave a somber whistle; the three of them—the boy, the girl and the rat—made their way despondently back toward the heap of rubbish.
CHAPTER 23
Out of the Periphery; Unthank’s Unwanted Visitors
If you’d been there to see it, you might not have believed your eyes. The placid line of trees, the lingering snow, the half-light of the coming evening. And then you might’ve seen a kid, no older than fourteen, with long, straight black hair and wearing both a uniform coverall and a focused expression, break through the trees. Her hand would be extended back, as if holding on to something from within the tree line. In a short time you would see that her hand was in fact holding on to another hand, this one of a young boy who gaped at the dim sunlight beyond the trees’ veil like an animal emerging from its burrow.
Soon, more followed; a succession of children appeared from the woods. In the midst of the chain was an old, hobbled man who relied on the guidance of the children to show the way. After what might seem like an eternity, the last child emerged, this one only holding the leash of a small black pug. The girl’s name was Elsie, and she’d returned to the Outside after what seemed like an eternity.
They all stood silently, blinking at the panorama before them: the weaving clusters of piping and conduit, the towering smokestacks, the clattering thrum of the Industrial Wastes. The twin spires of the railroad bridge could be seen some distance down the river’s gorge. On the other side, they reckoned, was freedom. But first, they would have to cross the Wastes. With renewed energy, they began moving in that direction.
They traversed the margin between the chemical-tank-strewn flats and the wild, hilly green of the woods. This margin, a small patch of dirty grass, was wide enough to accommodate them in a line. They said nothing as they walked; Carol wore a wide, beaming smile the whole way. The bridge hove closer in their vision.
No sooner had they crossed over into the Wastes, the Railroad Bridge within reach, some of them still holding the hands of their neighbors, when a single figure appeared from behind a low, broken smokestack. He wore an argyle sweater and a goatee. He positioned himself between them and the tracks of the bridge.
“Hello there,” said Unthank. “Welcome back.”
The huddle of kids froze and gave a collective gasp of surprise.