Paper Dolls (3 page)

“How long?”

“It’s September, Cassie. You’ve been gone over two months. The longest months of my life.”

Nodding softly, I tapped my wrist.

Mom checked her watch. “It’s twenty to seven.”

My back chilled. I’d slept for two and a half hours. Two and a half hours while the dolls were still down there in the dollhouse.

I pulled myself to my feet. Someone had put clothes on me—dark blue pants and shirt—which had to be a spare set of clothing of one of the paramedics.

Rescuers had pulled the entire front of the shed down. And they’d ripped the rainwater tank clean out of the ground—it lay discarded to the side of the shed. I hadn’t been there to tell them how to open it. The dogs were barricaded into a small makeshift pen, barking and whimpering. Every light was on in the Fiveash house—police moving through it. Three helicopters landed on the grounds near the house.

Detective Kalassi stepped up to me—a plumpish woman beside him. “Cassie, this is Detective Sarah Bryant."

I nodded a hello.

"It seems there's a problem below—a metal wall," he said.

“I wanted to tell you before,” I told them. “But that medicine put me to sleep.”

“Is there another way?” He moved close to hear me.

“No. You must get through the wall. And to get to the others, you must get through a carousel.”

“A carousel? Down there?”

“Yes. It has another metal wall. Please hurry!”

He listened carefully. “But how did you get out?”

“I crawled through the mountains.”

“You mean from here all the way down to where you were found?”

They stared at me incredulously, horrified.

I nodded.

He cursed under his breath. “Okay, with all the injuries you sustained, that way is out. Don’t worry—we‘ve got specialist equipment being flown in. We’ll get those kids out of there.”

I stared up at the house. “Henry Fiveash. Did you get him?”

Detective Kalassi twisted his mouth to one side. “He was gone. Gone by a week or more most likely.”

The detectives left.

A paramedic came to check me again. She handed me another of the milk drinks. I took it gratefully.

Time moved in small sluggish steps, like a slow motion movie.

More helicopters came—but these didn’t land. I guessed they didn’t have clearance—they were news helicopters, the logos of their various stations emblazoned on their sides. Reporters crashed through the bushes into the clearing—with cameras and lights. They busily set up. A female reporter had her hair tidied before she spoke dramatically into the camera in front of her.

Men and women in heavy, armored uniform carried equipment from one of the police helicopters down to the shed.

Above the noise came the high screeches of drills.

Please be quick
.

I willed the last vestiges of daylight to stay. I wanted the children of the underground to come out into daylight—not the night. But darkness pulled in—falling into every space.

A police officer strode up to us. “It’s time,” he said to my mother.

Mom squeezed my hand. “Cassie, as a child psych, I've been asked to be the person who orients the children as they are brought out. If...."

Wetness welled in my eyes. I knew what she was going to say—
if any of them are still alive
.

If
was so small a word that it was barely a word, but it held hostage lives and hopes and dreams. It held everything.

She slung an arm around me, to help me walk with her.

“It’s okay mom, I can do it myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” My legs were stronger and the fuzziness had left me.

We followed the officer over to the helicopters.

Everything went quiet, hushed in anticipation.

A rescue officer burst from the shed, carrying a small body in a blanket. Reporters went into a frenzy.

The officer rushed her to mom. Mom cradled her as paramedics began setting up an IV line—whispering to her that she was okay now.

A doctor injected a liquid into her thigh. She woke with a sharp intake of breath. She let out a high-pitched scream. “Monsters!”

I knelt beside her. “It’s me, Philly. Calliope. There’s no monsters here. No monsters. These are good people.” A tear slid down my cheek. “You’re safe. You’re safe, baby. Tomorrow, you’ll see sun and flowers.”

Her eyes wide, she clung to my arm. My mother stared at me.

Detective Kalassi stood with Detective Bryant, thumbing his chin. “Her name is Philly? This one isn’t Frances?”

I touched a finger to my mouth. “She’s been Philly—Philomena—for the past year. It’s what she knows. But yes, you have her name correct.”

Nodding at me gratefully, he turned to speak into his phone. “Amy, Martin Kalassi here. We have Frances Allanzi. Yes, alive.” His booming voice was jubilant. “Please inform the family and have them escorted and waiting at the Sydney Children’s Hospital. Oh and Amy, tell them she answers to the name Philomena.”

I brushed damp hair from her face. “Your family—everyone Missouri drew in the pictures for you—you’ll see them very soon.”

She shook her head. “They’re all gone. Where’s Missy? Where’s my Missy?”

I looked over my shoulder—Missouri was being brought out—her head lying limply against the officer’s shoulder.

“No, they were never gone," I told her."You’ll see them, Philly. Your brother and sister, mummy and daddy. I promise. You’ll see Missy later.”

I hugged her and nodded at the paramedics to take her. I didn’t want her seeing Missouri now. Philly’s stretcher was placed inside a waiting helicopter, my mother holding her hand all the way.

I rushed to Missouri. Her face was alabaster, like a monument on a grave.

Gazing at the officer, I could barely form the words, “Is she... alive?”

He stared back with grim eyes, his face rigid.

“No,” I breathed. My knees found the dirt.

Rescue hadn’t come quick enough.

Paramedics spirited her away—the chopper taking off almost instantly. A reporter scrambled to stand in front of the helicopter as it was taking off, yelling to the news camera that one of the abductees was dead.

A large hand touched my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

I looked upwards at Detective Kalassi.

“Can you tell me her name?” he said gently.

“Molly,” I said. “Her name is Molly Parkes.”

“That name I know,” he said. “She went missing here years back. We never found her.” He gazed regretfully at the helicopter as it disappeared into the night sky.

He turned his head. My mother ran alongside paramedics as they carried a girl to a waiting helicopter. Mom held her hand as the IV was inserted.

Kalassi and I went to her, Detective Bryant was already waiting at the helicopter.

Sophronia lolled on the stretcher as they gave her oxygen and intravenous fluids. A paramedic injected her with the same stuff they'd injected Philly with.

Her dark eyes fluttered open, but just barely, heavy with confusion. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She fixed her gaze on me. “I see it in your eyes,” she rasped. “You saw her—the other side of the shadow.”

I bowed my head. Sophronia saw things no one else could. “Now
we’re
on the other side,” I whispered.

Mom tugged the blanket up under Sophronia’s chin. “You’re safe. You’re safe now. You’ll be reunited with your family very soon.”

“What’s your name, honey?” Detective Kalassi asked her.

Her gaze moved from me to the detective.

“It is Sophronia.”

“I don’t know this one,” he remarked to Detective Bryant. She shook her head in reply.

I wanted to tell Sophronia to give her real name to the police—so they could find her family. But I suspected she didn’t want to. She was smart enough to know what she wanted. Her eyes drifted shut as they took her away.

Behind us, rescuers carried a limp body from the shed. Aisha.

Mom held my hand, squeezing it, as we rushed across to her. Aisha's sleeping face was bloodless, her lips purplish.

Please let her wake.

Two paramedics unwrapped the bloody bandage from Aisha's leg while another yelled out,
Where's the chopper for this one?

They're flying in another four
, came a reply from somewhere amongst the police and rescuers.

Bags of blood were readied and hung as they prepared a transfusion.
Run in two units
, someone called. Starlight washed over Aisha's smooth features.

Mom held her hand, speaking in a low voice close to her ear about her parents, about Raif—reassuring her she was back in the world she’d known. No one knew if she could even hear Mom's words. I wanted to speak to her, but the words stuck deep within my chest.

Noise rose as photographers and journalists ran to the shed. A figure limped from the underground with the aid of a rescuer, a hoarse cough hacking its way from his lungs.

Ethan refused checks by the paramedics—instead winding through the throng to Aisha's side. Crouching beside her, he rested his head on her arm.

He lifted his gaze then and found me, his eyes staring deep into mine.

Mom bent to extend an arm around his shoulders. “Your grandfather is just fine. Worried as anything about you of course, but otherwise fine. I’ve been checking on him, and organizing his meals.”

Ethan closed his eyes while hearing about his grandfather. He didn’t deserve it—didn’t deserve any sympathy. I had to admit he looked awful though. Underground, I hadn't realized just how bad we all looked.

A news crew moved in close with their microphones. My mother held out a hand, using what I called her big voice to tell the reporters to get lost—in no polite kind of way.

Ethan managed a grin. “She’s still the same,” he said to me.

I gazed at him coldly.

His expression faded.

Paramedics brought a stretcher and equipment over. Ethan sat heavily on the stretcher, leaning over onto his knees. A paramedic checked his lungs and clipped some kind of sensor on his finger. An oxygen mask was pulled over his face. Ethan collapsed back on the stretcher.

Breathing heavily, a policeman dressed in heavy gray armor ran up to me. “Are you Cassandra?”

I nodded.

“Is there anyone else down there?”

“Not... alive. You’ll find a skeleton in the tunnel. Jessamine. I don't know if you'll find... the others.” I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. Would they ever find the bodies of Lacey and Prudence, and
The First One
?

He gave a curt nod and gave a shout to others near the entry to the shed as he ran back in there. Police reporters got the all-clear to film and photograph the underground rooms, and they moved in with their cameras.

A stretcher was brought beside Aisha's, and I was made to sit on it. I sank down, knees trembling.

Aisha's eyes moved under her eyelids, jumping as though she were having a nightmare. She mouthed the word,
no
. And woke with a single, clear scream.

Paramedics held her body and arms down as she struggled to rise. Her breaths came in short, rapid stutters.

“Aish,” I called desperately. I moved to place a hand on her arm. “It's okay. You're out of there. We all got out. You're with rescuers now.”

Her head shook from side to side.

“Just wake... please...."

Mom and Detective Kalassi hastened over, Kalassi with a phone to his ear.

Aisha's breathing slowed gradually and she stopped wrestling with the paramedics. Her pastel-green eyes opened to the stars above. She stayed like that for a moment, confusion tightening the curves and planes of her face.

“Yeah, Amy, Aisha Dumaj just woke. Let the family know...." Kalassi held the phone away from himself. “The father's in hospital having an op," he told my mom in a hushed tone. "Had a massive stroke this morning—the whole family's there with him.”

Mom nodded, and knelt by Aisha's side. “It's over. You're going home. Home to your parents and Raif. Cassie's here. This is Cassie's mom. You're all safe.”

Aisha shifted her gaze in the direction of mom's voice. A tear squeezed from her eye. She reached for my hand.

“How?” she whispered.

I bent my head down to hers. “The Dark Way goes all the way through the mountains...."

She frowned deeply. “The serpent …?”

I shook my head slightly, not wanting to tell her what I’d seen, not now.

“Why did you drink the tea?” I cried in a hushed tone.

“Jessamine... told us the serpent had taken you, taken Ethan, told us it was coming for us next...." She startled at the sight of the inserted tube, then stared around at the crowd surrounding her. “Ethan? The others? Did anyone else get out alive?”

“Yes, everyone.”
No, no more lies and secrets.
“Except Missouri.”

Pain drew her eyebrows down. She began calling for Ethan, and found him on the stretcher near hers. He slept with the oxygen mask still attached to his face.

Detective Kalassi moved closer to us, his mouth in a tight smile. “Is there anything you girls want filmed in particular—anything you want the world to know?”

My eyes watered. “Please film Missouri and Prudence’s drawings—and their writings—if you can find them. One of the cells has Prudence’s stuff. They deserve to be heard.”

Aisha nodded softly. “Yes.”

He stomped away to inform a police cameraman.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I followed after Detective Kalassi. “There’s something else I want you to film, from the underground.”

He examined my face. “Just give the word.”

“Look in Ethan McAllister’s pockets. That will tell you a story—a story of someone who already knew of the existence of the underground and what was down there.”

Thumbing his chin, he waved two police officers over. “When the boy's stable, carry out a search of his clothing. Be quick, and don’t disturb the paramedics or his treatment.”

My mother was summoned by the police to discuss Ethan. I guessed that as a child psych, they thought it best they confer with her.

I stepped back over to Aisha, guilty as I sat beside her. But I couldn’t allow Ethan to get away with what he’d done. He’d already known about the underground, before we’d ever gone down there, and the knowledge of that sat like a stone in my stomach.