The Secret (3 page)

Outside, Ezra ordered, “Go back to the wagon and sit with your mother and sisters. I will be there soon. Just stay put and wait for me.”

“Yes, Papa,” said Jonathan, grateful to be out in the fresh air. He walked slowly back to the wagon, breathing deeply, trying to slow his racing heart.

He didn't want to scare his mother. But he knew she would ask him what he had seen. And there was no way to describe it without frightening her. No way to say it that wouldn't be horrible to hear.

No one lived in the town of Wickham, Jonathan realized as a wave of terror swept over him.

Every single human had died.

Wickham was dead, a town of rotting corpses.

“What have you found?” his mother asked eagerly as Jonathan stepped up to the wagon. “Where is your father?”

“Papa will be back soon,” said Jonathan. “He is exploring the village.”

“Did you talk to the innkeeper?” Jane demanded. “Why was that carriage left on the road? Did he say anything?”

“No, Mama,” said Jonathan softly. “There was no innkeeper. There is … no one.”

Jane leaned forward, her eyes burning into his. She chewed her lower lip. “Jonathan, what do you mean?”

“Everyone is dead,” said Jonathan. “Everyone. There is no one left alive in the whole town.”

Jane gasped. She started to say something, but Ezra
returned. He climbed up beside Jonathan on the box and, without saying a word, cracked the reins. The wagon lurched forward with a jolt.

“Ezra?” cried Jane. “What is it? Where is everyone? What did you find out?”

“Plague,” Ezra answered flatly, narrowing his eyes and staring straight ahead. “No survivors.”

“And the Goodes?”

“We shall soon see,” Ezra said.

Ezra drove the wagon out of town, the wooden wheels bouncing over the rutted dirt road. He said nothing. His expression remained set, hard and thoughtful.

He didn't slow the horses until they came to a farmhouse. It was a wooden saltbox house, smaller than the magistrate's, but still two stories tall with a small attic. A brick chimney ran through the middle of the house. A shed connected the kitchen to a big barn.

Ezra pulled the wagon up to the door of the house and stopped the horse.

Is this the Goodes' house? Jonathan wondered. Will they be dead, too? Will they be alive?

Ezra lowered himself to the ground and made his way to the door. He knocked. Three solid knocks.

And waited.

No answer.

Jonathan watched his father open the door and step inside. “Jonathan,” Jane whispered, giving him a shove. “Go with him.”

Jonathan climbed down from the wagon. Abigail slipped out, too, before her mother could stop her. They followed Ezra into the farmhouse.

Stepping into the front parlor, Jonathan's eyes
explored the room. He was somewhat surprised to find it neat and tidy. He saw no sign of anyone, dead or alive. It felt as if the people who lived there had left.

“Hello?” he called. But he was not surprised when he received no answer.

“They must be here!” Ezra exclaimed with emotion. “They
must!
I will not rest until I see their rotting corpses with my own eyes.”

Ezra ran up the stairs. Standing in the parlor with his sister, Jonathan could hear his father's frantic footsteps above him.

Ezra ran from room to room. Jonathan then heard Ezra climb up to the attic. When Ezra returned, he ran past the children as if not seeing them. Jonathan heard him as he explored the large common room, the shed, and the barn.

A few minutes later Ezra returned to the parlor, his face purple with rage.

“Papa, what
is
it?” Jonathan cried.

“T
hey are gone!” Ezra screamed. “A plague has killed everyone in Wickham—
but the Goodes have escaped!”

Jane Fier ran into the house with Rachel in her arms. “Please, Ezra,” she pleaded, tugging at her husband's sleeve. “We must leave this horrible place. The Goodes are not here. We must leave!”

Ezra shook her off. “No,” he replied firmly. “We will stay here, Jane. The Goodes lived here not long ago. Somewhere in this house there will be a clue to tell us where they have gone.”

He made his way to a desk in the corner and started digging through the drawers.

Jane followed him, weeping. “Ezra, we cannot stay here! We cannot! We cannot stay here all alone with only corpses for neighbors!”

“Wife—” Ezra started.

“Think of your children!” Jane cried, holding the baby against her chest.

“Silence!” Ezra screamed, pushing her away. He glared furiously at her. Jonathan trembled when he saw that mad gleam in his father's eyes.

“I have heard enough from you, Jane!” Ezra cried sternly. “No more pleading and no more questions! From now on I expect obedience from all of you—obedience and nothing else!”

No one moved. Abigail whimpered softly. Ezra's harsh expression didn't soften.

“I am going to find the Goodes,” he said slowly through gritted teeth. “They cannot escape me. I am going to find them.
And nothing will stop me!”

Jonathan's mother ran from the room, crying. Abigail clung to Jonathan's side, and he put an arm around her tiny shoulders.

Ezra said, “Jonathan, start unpacking the wagon. This house will be our new home.”

Jonathan gasped. We are going to live
here,
in someone else's house? he wondered, horrified by the idea. We are going to live here, so near the frightening village of corpses?

“Jonathan—do as you are told!” ordered his father, his voice booming through the house.

“Yes, Papa,” Jonathan said.

With a sinking heart, Jonathan hurried outside. His hands trembling, he unhitched the horse and led him into the barn.

We are going to live in their house, he thought. The Goodes' own house, with all their things in it. What if they are not dead? What if they come back—and find us here?

He found a bucket in the barn and carried it outside. There was a pump in the yard. He pumped water into the bucket and took it to the horse.

At least we will have a place to sleep tonight, he told himself. With a featherbed. And a hearth to cook by.

Jonathan sighed. Maybe it will not be so bad here, he thought. He gazed around at the green fields, the apple orchard in the distance, and the cozy house. Smoke was already rising from the chimney. His mother must have started a fire.

Maybe we will be happy here, he thought. If only the Goodes do not come back….

The Fiers found everything they needed in the Goodes' house. Jonathan discovered preserves, smoked meat, and cornmeal in the shed. Abigail found a bolt of linen in the attic. Soon she and Jonathan had fresh new clothes made from the linen.

Their mother kept busy cooking, cleaning, spinning, and sewing. Abigail helped her mother and took care of Rachel. Jonathan did the heavy chores: chopping wood, drawing water, caring for the horse. When his mother was very busy, he also looked after the girls for her.

As they all settled in to their new life, Jonathan's only concern was for his father. Ezra Fier had only one thing on his mind—where had the Goodes gone?

Jonathan watched his father rummage through storage bins and drawers reading every scrap of paper he could find, studying anything that might give him a clue to their whereabouts.

He thinks of nothing but revenge, Jonathan thought angrily, watching his father read ledgers one day. He wouldn't even eat if Mama didn't put a plate of food in front of him every evening. Nothing distracts him from the Goodes.

Then Abigail ran into the room, shouting, “Papa! Look at me!”

Ezra glanced up from the ledger, and Jonathan saw his father's scowl melt into a smile. “Where did you get that pretty dress?” Ezra asked. “Turn around for me.”

Abigail tossed a lock of red hair off her forehead and turned slowly, showing off her new blue dress.

“Mama found it in the back of an old wardrobe upstairs,” she explained, her blue eyes twinkling. “It fits me perfectly!”

Ezra held his arms out, and Abigail ran to him for a hug. Releasing her, he said, “Run along now and help your mama. I have work to do here.”

“Yes, Papa,” Abigail said. She skipped out of the room.

Papa looks almost happy, Jonathan thought as he watched his father. Abigail is the only one who can do that. She is the only one who can still make Papa smile.

Quickly Ezra's smile faded, and he turned to Jonathan and demanded, “What are you looking at, boy? You have chores to do, have you not?”

“Yes, Papa,” said Jonathan. He hurried out of the room.

About three weeks after they had moved into the house, Ezra called Jonathan to him. “Hitch up the
wagon,” Ezra said. “We are going to call on our neighbors.”

There were a couple of farmhouses a few miles down the road. Jonathan knew that people were living in them because he could see smoke rising from that direction every morning.

The Fiers' wagon stopped in front of a large, prosperous-looking farmhouse with red chickens pecking around the yard. Jonathan saw a young woman working in the garden, bending low to pull out weeds. She stood up when she saw Jonathan and Ezra approach.

Ezra took off his hat. “Good day, miss,” he said. “Is the master of the house at home?”

The young woman curtsied and hurried excitedly into the house, calling, “Papa! We have visitors!”

A gray-haired man with a big belly topping toothpick legs came out of the front door and introduced himself in a friendly way. Ezra removed his hat to introduce himself and Jonathan.

“We have just moved into the area, Master Martin,” Ezra explained. “We are looking for a family named Goode.”

At the mention of the name Goode, the older man blinked hard. His face turned pale.

“We thought the Goodes were living down the road, but they are gone,” Ezra continued. “Would you happen to know what has become of them?”

The man's friendly expression faded, replaced by a scowl. “I do not know the Goodes,” he said gruffly. “I am sorry. I cannot help you. Good day, Master Fier.”

Abruptly the man hurried back into his house, shutting the door behind him and his daughter. Jonathan
saw the girl's face at the window. The old man pulled her away.

Ezra began to shake with rage. “What can this mean?” he cried. “Why does he refuse to speak to us?”

“Perhaps they know something at the next farm, Papa,” Jonathan said softly, trying to calm his father.

They continued on to the next farm, three miles away. This one appeared poorer, a smaller house with rocky fields behind it. A thin old man tilled the field with a single hoe.

“Good day, sir,” called Ezra, tipping his hat as he approached. “May I have a word with you?”

The man stopped but made no move toward them. He stared at Jonathan and Ezra suspiciously.

“What is it, then?” he asked in a surly voice.

“My name is Ezra Fier,” Ezra told him. “This is my son, Jonathan. We are looking for a family in the region and wondered if you knew what had become of them.”

“What family is that?” asked the old man, leaning on the hoe now.

Ezra cleared his throat. “The family of George Goode,” he said.

The man's scowl deepened. He remained still for a moment, leaning on the hoe, his eyes studying Ezra. Then he raised himself, turned, and strode quickly toward his barn.

Ezra nodded at Jonathan. “He is going to tell us something,” he whispered. They followed the old man across the rocky ground to his barn.

The old man disappeared inside. Jonathan and Ezra waited several yards from the door.

In a moment the man came running out, holding a long knife.

Ezra smiled uncertainly. Then Jonathan saw the confusion on his face.

Before Ezra could move, the man had pressed the knife to Ezra's neck. “I am going to cut your throat,” he snarled.