A Quill Ladder (29 page)

Abbey
’
s phone vibrated. A text from Caleb flashed on the screen.

< come now can
’
t stall much longer >

“
I have to go, Mrs. Forrester. We
’
ll try to come back soon!
”

Mrs. Forrester ripped two pieces of paper out of the notebook and thrust them at Abbey, who grabbed them without looking as she ran out of the room and down the stairs as fast as she could go.

Her brother
…
with red hair? Had the woman meant Abbey
’
s dad? Old people often thought middle-aged people were young. Or was it someone else?

In the stairwell, Abbey risked a quick look at the first drawing. The short parallel lines formed a ring, to which Mrs. Forrester had added a nose, eyes, feet and a tail
—
a porcupine? And next to it was what appeared to be a ladder. A porcupine and a ladder?

She reached the door that swung out into the hall next to the lobby, folded the drawings, and stuffed them in her pocket.

*****

Mark sat on the couch next to Simon while Ms. Beckham scurried around in the kitchen fixing Simon some soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. Things had calmed down considerably since he had first arrived back at the house and rung the doorbell. He didn
’
t know why he had done this
—
normally he just walked in
—
but perhaps he had thought that ringing the doorbell would somehow alert Ms. Beckham and Mr. Sinclair to the gravity of the situation. An extremely agitated phone call had been underway between Ms. Beckham and, Mark guessed, his sister Sandy as to the location of Abbey, Caleb, and Mark, but when Mark arrived, the phone had been immediately hung up, and Mark had been grilled instead. Of course Ms. Beckham had asked him about the whereabouts of Abbey and Caleb, to which he could only answer that he didn
’
t know, which caused even more agitation. Mark had been forced to sink to his knees and cover his ears until Mr. Sinclair told his wife to calm down and just call Abbey and Caleb. But then Abbey had called herself and announced that they were at the hospital.

Mark had then been escorted to the couch and told to stay put while Mr. Sinclair went to get Abbey and Caleb. So here he was, sitting next to a quiet Simon, who was playing a game on his phone, while pots and pans and plates banged around in the kitchen.

He wondered if Dr. Ford was still waiting down the road, if Mr. Sinclair had seen him, and how much trouble he would be in if he didn
’
t show up with the maps, which were still stuffed in his shirt.

He really ought to go downstairs and continue examining them. But he was afraid to move.

He excused himself to use the bathroom. Simon just squinted at him with a raised eyebrow. Mark was very careful to shut the bathroom door loudly so Ms. Beckham would know that was where he was. Then he cranked open the bathroom window and stared out.

Dr. Ford remained parked on the side street where he had dropped Mark, but the funny man with the beret who had called off the dog now leaned in Dr. Ford
’
s window. A few seconds later, the engine on the Sidekick fired up, and Dr. Ford sped away.

Mark tried a few deep, cleansing breaths. He was home. But now Dr. Ford would be angry with him. And he no doubt still wanted the maps.

Mark closed the window, flushed the toilet, and removed the maps carefully from his shirt, flattening them on the counter. He focused on the third map this time. The map he had previously not been able to see anything special on. He ran the water and examined the map until his eyes hurt and he was sure Ms. Beckham would come looking for him. Then he exited the bathroom, still clutching the maps, and returned to his spot across from Simon. The Sinclairs were all used to seeing him holding maps.

Farley drifted by slobbering and panting. Mark lifted the maps in the air in alarm, holding them well out of reach of Farley. He put the first two maps down on the end table beside him and continued to hold the third map up in the air. He still saw absolutely nothing of interest on it. It was exactly the same as the other maps, but with no unusual markings.

Mark bowed his head to think.

“
You know there
’
s a watermark on that map, right?
”

Simon
’
s voice startled Mark. He jumped and very nearly crumpled the map again. Then he stared at it.

“
Maybe you can only see it from this side,
”
Simon said.
“
The light
’
s shining through it.
”

Mark stood and flipped the map around, holding it up to the window. Sure enough, there on the back of the map was an oddly shaped letter M. He flipped the map around, and now that he knew where it was, he could make the letter out. It had been disguised by the hachures and other texturing the mapmaker had used to show relief.

M
…
Mark racked his brain for the name of the mapmaker that the map librarian had given him when they were on the other side. But as with emotions, he had a hard time with names, as they attached a more unique identity to people than he was readily capable of. Which was why he knew them as the bad man (Sylvain), the very bad man (Dr. Ford), and the very, very bad men (those men in black with dogs). He had the names Abbey, Caleb, and Simon down now. And he was working on Ms. Beckham and Mr. Sinclair. But the unknown mapmaker? He had nothing, except a strange feeling that his name started with the letter M.

Then the van pulled into the driveway and Abbey and Caleb spilled out, and Ms. Beckham went to greet them and there were some words exchanged in a tone that did not make Mark altogether comfortable, but then everyone hugged everyone and it all seemed okay, except nobody was smiling. So Mark continued to sit on the couch until everyone disappeared into the kitchen and he felt okay about slipping down to his room at last.

*****

Abbey pushed her chicken around on her plate. Despite Simon
’
s return home, dinner wasn
’
t proving to be a festive affair. Simon
’
s arraignment hearing was scheduled for the following week, and Gretchen Leer had been appointed as interim mayor, which neither of her parents were happy about. And even though Simon had given Abbey
’
s fingers a squeeze when she
’
d hugged him earlier, he
’
d lapsed into a stony dark silence by dinnertime. The adults in the house paraded about the kitchen wearing stern and grieving expressions.

Caleb decided to spend the evening watching a movie with Simon, which left Abbey to her own devices. As soon as she was excused, she retreated to her room, grateful to be away from the gloom in the kitchen.

They had told their parents little about what had happened at the college that afternoon
—
just that they had gone to get the map, Sanome had gotten hurt, Mark had opted to go home, and they had gotten on the wrong bus. Basically a whole bunch of outright lies. Yet after all the day
’
s other events
—
Mom resigning as mayor; Simon
’
s subsequent release; the shock of coming home to find their children missing
—
their parents seemed too stressed to handle anything more. Abbey knew her parents were keeping secrets, and of course she, Caleb, and Simon were keeping secrets. They were one big secretive family, and it made Abbey
’
s stomach hurt.

The pieces of paper that Mrs. Forrester had given her lay on her desk. The first sheet showed the porcupine next to the ladder. Mrs. Forrester
’
s rendering seemed almost cute. Except Abbey was sure that it wasn
’
t some sort of warning to watch for adorable porcupines in the woods. The second sheet contained even less information. Just five short parallel lines.

She opened up Facebook and checked Sam
’
s status. Today, instead of a quote, Sam had done a drawing of two stick men embracing: one was labeled
“
Sam
”
and the other was labeled
“
antimatter Sam,
”
and the subsequent drawing showed the complete annihilation of everything. Sam was known for his diagrams depicting famous physics problems, and Abbey almost laughed. He was obviously illustrating the quote about time travel from Paul Gott in his book
Time Travel in Einstein
’
s Universe
.

“
Sam can help
”
the text had said. But what would she ask him:
How do you get to a parallel universe? What does phi mean to you? How about a porcupine and a ladder?
She had to start with something.

She wrote six drafts of her message before she finally decided on:
“
Hope you are doing well. Loved your antimatter Sam. I
’
m doing a paper on parallel universes, any suggestions regarding articles? Like don
’
t go researching anything. Just if you know any off the top of your head.
”
Off the top of your brilliant head, Abbey thought, but then she spent a little more time thinking about Sam
’
s sky blue eyes than she should. She pressed enter before she could chicken out.

The next morning, well before the darkness of the November sky had lifted, Abbey heard the faint clatter of the front door opening and closing. Farley remained silent, which meant it had to be someone from within the household. She shifted out of bed in silence and tweaked open one of the slats of her bedroom blinds. In the pool of streetlight, Abbey could just make out her mother ascending Coventry Hill. Farley bounded ahead of her gleefully, his otter tail aloft.

So. Her mother was still using the stones. For what? For medical treatment? Or something else?

It took Abbey a long time to fall back to sleep.

Abbey awoke for the second time to hear her mother speaking in harsh tones in the office. She leapt out of bed in alarm, but realized that it was almost nine o
’
clock and that her mother was fine. She was calling for Abbey
’
s father to come and look at something.

“
I can
’
t believe she
’
d do this,
”
her mother said in a loud voice.

Abbey emerged from her room to see her parents huddled around the computer in the office, staring at a document on the screen.

“
What
’
s going on?
”
Abbey said, rubbing her eyes.

Her father turned around.
“
I
’
m afraid our new mayor has added an item to the agenda for the council meeting tonight that your mother
’
s not too happy about.
”

“
What?
”

“
Allowing for development sites on Coventry Hill.
”

“
Oh.
”

Her parents exchanged more grim looks that implied that there was a lot that Abbey didn
’
t know, and would unlikely be told.

“
It still has to go to second and third reading, Marian. Then they have to post a rezoning notice, and approve it, and then someone actually has to buy it. Nothing is going to happen any time soon,
”
her father said.

“
We
’
ll see,
”
her mother said, slamming the computer closed.

Abbey was pouring granola into her bowl when the real screaming started. Caleb dropped his toast and ran to the top of the stairs.
“
That
’
s Mark!
”

Their parents appeared around the corner of the living room holding their coffee mugs, and they all descended the stairs together, with the exception of Simon, who was probably in his room with his headphones on.

Mark stood outside his room, clutching his own chest with one arm and pulling at his hair with the other.

“
They
’
re gone. Gone!
”

“
What
’
s gone, Mark?
”
Abbey
’
s mother asked, pulling the ties on her green silk housecoat tighter.

“
My maps. My special maps. They were mine, and they
’
re gone. They
’
re very important maps.
”

Abbey
’
s mother peered into Mark
’
s room.
“
Are you sure you haven
’
t just misplaced them?
”
Seeing the utter tidiness and order of the room, she added,
“
Like maybe in a file or something.
”