The Figure In the Shadows (10 page)

With a little cry of terror, Lewis let go of the paper. It refused to go, however. Like a friendly cat, the paper wrapped itself around his feet. Frantically, Lewis kicked at the thing. He wanted it to go away. But then he stopped kicking. He turned and looked toward the dark archway. A figure stepped forward from it.

Lewis opened and closed his mouth, but nothing came out. He wanted to say, “Oh, hi there, Joe!” to reassure himself, but he couldn’t. Rooted to the spot, Lewis watched the figure come. A breath of cold ashes swept toward him.

Now the figure was standing before Lewis on the snowy walk. It raised a shadowy hand and motioned for him to come. And Lewis felt himself suddenly jolted forward. It was as if there was a dog collar around his neck and the figure was tugging at the leash. He couldn’t resist. He had to go. Lewis stumbled forward, following the beckoning shape. The snow closed in and hid them both from sight.

Rose Rita glanced up at the clock in the waiting room of Dr. Wessel’s office. It was the third time she had looked at it in the last five minutes.

The clock said five-fifteen. Lewis had left the office at three-thirty or thereabouts. It was hard to believe that it had taken him nearly two hours to buy a can of tobacco, go home, and then come back. Except, of course, that he hadn’t come back. No phone calls, no nothing. Rose Rita’s session with Dr. Wessel hadn’t taken too long. She had been sitting out in the waiting room stewing for more than an hour now, and she was just about fed up.

Rose Rita stormed out into the front hall and started
throwing on her outdoor clothes. Coat, scarf, boots, gloves. Boy, was she mad! She kept running through in her mind all the things she was going to say to Lewis when she saw him again. She reached up and snatched down her beanie. As she always did, she stuck her hand inside to see if the key was there. It was gone.

Rose Rita stood there staring at the safety pin that had held the little key. So
that
was what he was up to! Why, the dirty, sneaky, crooked, no-good . . . She felt more anger welling up inside her, making her even crabbier than she had been before. But then she stopped. Lewis had told her all about the amulet, about the figure waiting for him under the lamp and the ghostly messages that had come floating in out of nowhere. He had gone to get the amulet, and he had not come back.

Rose Rita opened the front door of Dr. Wessel’s office and looked out. It was dark and it was snowing. She fought down her rising panic and said to herself, through clenched teeth, “I’ve got to get help. I’ve got to get help.” Still saying this over and over, she hurried down the steps and started kicking her way through the snow.

Lewis’s Uncle Jonathan was winding the mantel clock in the dining room when he heard a terrific hammering on the front door. When he got there, he found Rose Rita, red-faced, panting, and covered with snow.

“Mr. Barnavelt . . . Mr. Barnavelt . . . it’s . . . we’ve got to . . . too late . . . took him . . . go find him . . .” Cold wet bubbles were rising from Rose Rita’s throat and bursting in her mouth. She couldn’t talk any more.

Jonathan put his arm around her and tried to make her calm down. He told her that she’d better get out of that heavy wet coat. But when he tried to help her unbutton her parka, she shoved him away angrily. Rose Rita stood there trying to catch her breath. It took her some time. When she finally got her voice back, she stared straight at Jonathan and spoke as calmly as she could.

“Mr. Barnavelt . . . there’s . . . there’s something awful’s happened to Lewis. You know that old coin you gave him . . . out of your grampa’s trunk?”

Jonathan gave Rose Rita a strange look. “Yes, I remember. What about it?”

“Well, it’s magic, and he took it away from me and now it’s got him and we’ve got to . . .” Rose Rita broke down. She put her hands to her face and cried. Her whole body shook.

Several minutes later, Rose Rita and Jonathan and Mrs. Zimmermann were sitting around the kitchen table in Mrs. Zimmermann’s house. Mrs. Zimmermann was holding Rose Rita’s hand and comforting her. Rose Rita had just finished telling them both the whole story, as far as she knew it.

“Don’t worry, Rose Rita,” Mrs. Zimmermann said softly. “Everything’ll be all right. We’ll find him.”

Rose Rita stopped crying and looked her straight in the eye. “Oh yeah? Well, how’re we gonna do it?”

Mrs. Zimmermann stared at the table. “I don’t know yet,” she said in a low voice.

It was hard for Rose Rita to fight down despair. She wanted them all to jump into the car right away and zoom off in search of Lewis. But they didn’t even know which way they ought to go. The kitchen clock fizzed, and Mrs. Zimmermann rapped the large purple stone of her ring on the white enamel of the tabletop. She was trying to think.

Suddenly Mrs. Zimmermann shoved her chair back and jumped up. “Of course! Come on, everybody. Get your things on. I know where we’re going now.”

Rose Rita and Jonathan were utterly mystified, but they followed Mrs. Zimmermann out to the front hall and started getting dressed. Jonathan put on his big fur coat and the hat that looked like a small black haystack. Mrs. Zimmermann put on her heavy purple cape and rooted in the hall closet until she found her umbrella. It was a small black umbrella with rust streaks running down it and a crystal knob for a handle. Rose Rita wondered why she wanted it.

As soon as everyone was ready, they went next door, and Jonathan got his car out of the garage. Now Rose Rita was squeezed into the front seat between Jonathan and Mrs. Zimmermann. As the car reached the corner
of Mansion and High, Jonathan put on the brakes and turned to Rose Rita.

“Okay, Rosie,” he said, “I think I’d better take you home now. It’s getting late and your folks’ll be wondering where you are. And I wouldn’t think of taking you along on a dangerous journey like this one.”

Rose Rita set her jaw and stared back at Jonathan defiantly. “Mr. Barnavelt, if you want to get rid of me you’ll have to tie me up and dump me on my front porch.”

Jonathan looked at Rose Rita for a second. Then he shrugged and drove on.

The big black car crawled down Main Street and rounded the traffic circle. The snow was coming down hard. It piled up on the figures of Mary and Joseph inside the columns of the fountain. Rose Rita saw that they were headed out of town now. The
CITY LIMITS
sign passed. So did the Athletic Field and the Bowl-Mor Bowling Alley. Jonathan had had a hurried consultation with Mrs. Zimmermann just before they left the house, and he seemed to know where they were going. Normally, Rose Rita would have been irritated about not being let in on their little secret. But she was so worried about Lewis that she didn’t care where they went, as long as they were going somewhere to save him.

Now they were out in the country. The tire chains chinked steadily, and white dots came rushing out of the
blackness. Rose Rita stared at them, hypnotized. She imagined that she was in a space ship plowing through the Asteroid Belt. The dots were meteorites.
Chink-chink
went the chains.
Swish-swish
went the windshield wipers as they slowly cleared the snow away. The white dots kept flying at the car. Rose Rita felt the warm breath of the heater on her legs. Although it was still early in the evening, she felt exhausted. Running through the snow from the doctor’s office to Lewis’s house had really tired her out. Her head began to fall forward . . .

“It’s no use. We can’t go any farther.”

Rose Rita shook her head and wiped her eyes. “Huh?”

It was Jonathan who had spoken. He put the car into reverse and backed up a bit. Then he put it in first and pressed steadily down on the accelerator. The car rolled forward a little way, but then it stopped. The tires squealed and whined. Jonathan backed up and tried again. And again. And again. Finally, he turned the ignition off. He heaved a deep sigh, ground his teeth, and banged with his fists on the useless steering wheel. Before them on the road stretched a rippled desert of snow. It was too deep for them to drive through.

The car dripped and ticked into silence. White flakes began piling up on the windshield wipers. The three of them sat watching for what seemed like a long time, though it was really less than a minute. Then Mrs. Zimmermann cleared her throat. The sudden sound made
Jonathan and Rose Rita jump. They turned toward her, wondering what she was going to say. Now she thrust her arms through the armholes in her cape and picked her umbrella up off the floor of the car. “All right, everybody out. Buckle up your galoshes and button up your coats. We’ll have to walk.”

Jonathan stared at her. “
Walk?
Florence, are you crazy? It’s still . . . well, how many miles would you say it was?”

“Not as many as you would claim, Weird Beard,” said Mrs. Zimmermann, smiling grimly. “But in any case we’re wasting time. We’ve
got
to walk. That’s all there is to it.” She opened the car door and slid out. Rose Rita followed her. Jonathan shut off the headlights and took the flashlight out of the glove compartment. Soon he was charging off after the other two.

Walking through deep snow is hard work. You have to keep lifting your feet up and down, up and down, out of one hole and into another, until your legs feel like they’re going to fall off. It didn’t take long for Jonathan, Mrs. Zimmermann, and Rose Rita to get tired out.

“Oh, this is useless!” Jonathan gasped. He tore off his hat and threw it down into the snow. “We’ll never get there at this rate!”

“We have to,” panted Mrs. Zimmermann. “Rest a minute and we’ll go on. At least it’s stopped snowing.”

It was true. Rose Rita looked up, and she could see
stars. The moon was out too, a big full moon. By its light they could see their car in the distance, just around a bend of the road. They had not yet gotten out of sight of it.

“I have never seen such lazy people as the people in the Capharnaum County Highway Department,” Jonathan grumbled. “They should be out here right now with their trucks!”

“Save your breath for walking,” said Mrs. Zimmermann.

They started out again. Up and down, up and down, through the glimmering white stuff. Rose Rita began to cry. Her tears felt cold on her cheeks. “We’ll never see Lewis again, will we? Will we?” she sobbed. “Not ever again!”

Mrs. Zimmermann didn’t answer. Neither did Jonathan. They just kept slogging.

They had walked for what seemed like hours when Jonathan stopped and put his hand to his left side. “Can’t . . . go . . . farther . . . hurts . . .” he gasped. “Shouldn’t . . . eat . . . so much . . .”

Rose Rita looked at Mrs. Zimmermann. She seemed ready to collapse. Now Mrs. Zimmermann turned away and put her hands over her face. Rose Rita knew she must be crying.

“This is the end,” Rose Rita thought. “This is the end of everything.” But just then she heard a noise in the distance. A growling, scraping, grinding noise. She turned
and looked back down the road. Yellow lights were flashing in the distance. A snow plow was coming.

Rose Rita could hardly believe her eyes. Tired as she was, she started jumping up and down and cheering. Mrs. Zimmermann took her hands away from her face and just stood watching. Jonathan picked up his hat, dusted it off, and jammed it back on his head. He blew his nose and wiped his eyes several times. “Well, it’s about time!” he said in a hoarse voice.

Now the plow was getting closer. Rose Rita thought she had never seen anything so beautiful in her life. It was a festival of flashing lights and wonderful noises. Sparks flew from the big curved blade. The motor whined and rumbled. They could read the words on the door of the big yellow truck:
CAPHARNAUM COUNTY PUBLIC WORKS DEPARTMENT
.

Jonathan turned on the flashlight and yelled and waved. With a long grating roar the truck pulled to a stop next to the three travelers. Snow from the plow blade spattered them, but they didn’t mind.

A window in the cab was rolled down. “Hey, are you the people that left your car in the middle of the road?”

“Yes we are, and what’s it to you, Jute Feasel?” Jonathan roared. “I never was so glad to see anyone in my life! Can you give us a ride?”

“Where to?”

“Halfway up the Homer Road to the old Moss Farm.”

“What the hell you want to go out there for?”

“Watch your language, Jute,” Mrs. Zimmermann called. “We’ve got a young lady with us.” Rose Rita giggled. It was well known in New Zebedee that Jute Feasel had the foulest mouth in town.

Jute agreed to drive the three of them where they wanted to go. He said he didn’t understand it, and Jonathan said he didn’t have to, and they left it at that. The cab of the truck was a bit crowded with four people in it, but somehow they all managed to squeeze in. Mrs. Zimmermann sat in the middle, and Rose Rita sat on Jonathan’s lap. It was too hot in the cab, and the air was thick with the smell of the King Edward cigars that Jute always smoked. But they were on their way again.

The truck ground up and down hills and around curves, shooting snow in either direction. Jonathan sang “Drill Ye Tarriers” to keep everyone’s spirits up. Jute sang the song about the three little fishies in the itty-bitty pool, which was the only song he knew that was fit for children to listen to. Snow-covered trees stared at them from the darkness on both sides of the road.