The Secret of Rover (21 page)

Either they were getting closer, or they were now so hungry and tired that they were hallucinating. In a confused way Katie realized this was possible. She had never before known such hunger. She felt as if an iron fist were balled up in her stomach, and she knew the pain and weakness it caused were playing strange tricks on her mind. She began to feel as if her parents could see and hear her. And then she found herself staring at her mother's face. Worse yet, she didn't mind. She could not stop gazing at it: dark and oval-shaped, with the deep black eyes beneath the black hair, the warm, slow smile. It presented itself to Katie's exhausted mind as vividly as if her mom were right there, and it helped.

Katie's stomach twisted in agony. Without even thinking she stripped a fistful of leaves off a passing branch, shoved it into her mouth, and bit down. The bitter taste made her gag and spit, shattering the vision of her mother's face.

She could have been poisoned!

“Katie!”

As David's voice broke through her thoughts, she heard the water once again. This time there was no question that it had grown louder.

“I think this is it! I think we're just about there!”

The bushes around them were now ferns—Katie could feel their long fronds—and the sound of the water was very near. She suddenly realized that she was desperately
thirsty. David was plunging down a slope; she could hear him beneath her. Then she heard a new sound in the water. She heard splashing. He was there.

The water was fabulous. It filled their empty stomachs, even if only briefly, and refreshed their weary faces.

Left at the creek: Those had been their instructions. Left at the creek and then you're there. With barely a pause they set out in the direction of their uncle's home and forged onward, driven now by their desperate need for food.

Her mom was back. Again Katie saw her face. This time she knew it was a hallucination, and she guessed that meant she was going crazy, but she didn't even mind. The face seemed to hover in the air above the creek, or sometimes to watch her from the other bank. It helped Katie feel that they were not alone.

There were no trees above the water and the moonlight that had barely penetrated the forest shone full upon them through the now open air. Katie could see David's gaze roaming everywhere through the new brightness as he trudged forward, searching for a sign, any sign, of their uncle Alex.

“You follow the water and you're there.” That was how their parents had always said you did it, and in the end that was how it was. Katie and David did not know what they were looking for—a hut? A cave? What did hermits live in, after all? But they both saw it at the same time
and they recognized it at once. It was on the other side of the creek and it was a house: a small, neat house made of wood. A well-tended garden enclosed by a fence lay beside it. Curtains were drawn across its two windows, but light shone from behind them. Light poured, too, from the front door, which stood wide open.

And in the doorway—looking right at them—was a man as familiar to their eyes as an echo is to the ears. He was not a stranger. He seemed to be someone they had seen before and loved for a long, long time. He was of medium height and slim, but in that first moment neither Katie nor David noticed any of that. They saw nothing but the dark oval of his face and the deep eyes that gazed at them in wonderment from beneath his black hair.

It was as if their mother's face, which Katie had seen with her mind's eye, had suddenly turned real. She was not afraid anymore. A path of flat stones ran straight across the creek to the little house. Wordlessly she stepped across them toward the man in the doorway. David was right behind her, and then they were in his arms.

But the shock of recognition was not over. Another still more dazzling one was to follow, the instant their blinking eyes adjusted to the warm light within their uncle's home. All around them on every wall were photographs—dozens and dozens of photographs—of them. There were David and Katie, moments after their births. There they were as toddlers, and there was a picture of them just a few
months ago in the new house. Their parents were there too. They were there as a young couple just married, and then holding their twin babies, and smiling with their children, and with their arms around Alex.

But the real Uncle Alex was right there before them, and he was busy. From a small cupboard on the wall he was lifting down plates and mugs and a loaf of bread. Their stomachs twisted yet again as he cut the bread into thick slices and spread it with butter.

Nothing had ever been as vivid as those pictures and that bread. Neither Katie nor David had ever seen anything so striking or tasted anything so intensely. So absorbed were they in these sensations that neither of them noticed how Alex somehow fixed their beds. But all at once, the beds were there. Then they fell into them and fell asleep, as entirely and suddenly as if they had fallen off a cliff.

It was nearly evening of the next day when they awoke. But that was hardly surprising, as they had not arrived at their uncle's house until almost dawn.

So when at last they opened their eyes, it was to the aroma of dinner, bubbling in a pot over an open fire in Alex's front yard. Not wanting to wake them, he had cooked outside. But they could not sleep through that smell: the smell of the first hot food that had been fixed for them since the pizza they had eaten the night before their mom and dad had left for Katkajan, a lifetime ago.

The savory odor cut through David's stomach like a knife, causing him to sit up sharply on his mat on the floor. His blinking eyes met his uncle's smile, which was framed in the window.

“I thought it'd wake you if I cranked this up,” Alex said, gesturing at the window, which he had just propped open with a stick. He was outside minding the meal, but he bent over to rest his elbows on the sill. “Based on how hungry you were last night.”

Katie was awake too. “What is it?” she asked urgently. “That smell, I mean.” She had been given the bed, and now without further ceremony she swung her feet to the floor.

“A little something from the garden,” said their uncle. “And there's a fish roasting too. I caught it just about an hour ago. Healthful and delicious, like everything here,” he added proudly. “It's from the good, clean mountain earth.”

But then concern furrowed Alex's brow and his smile faded. “I did hate to wake you when you're so tired,” he said. “But I have a feeling that my very welcome guests have a story to tell me, and I think it's time I heard what it was.”

Of course he let them eat first. They were ravenous, and neither of them had ever tasted anything like the flaky white fish that steamed beneath its slightly charred skin, or the thick, flavorful soup. Sighing, Katie and David mopped up the last drops with more of their uncle's rich, chewy bread.

They ate at his small table, with the doors and windows
open and the cool, early-evening air floating through. The mountaintop smelled amazing, and there were no sounds at all but birdsong and the trickling of the creek. After their long days and nights on the road, amid the dust and grit and stink of truck stops and highways, David found he was as hungry for the clean and peaceful setting as he was for the food. Maybe Alex wasn't weird after all, living in a place like this.

Certainly their uncle didn't seem weird. Katie tried not to stare at all his things, but she couldn't help noticing how nice his tiny house was. It was so neat and clever. Everything he needed was there, and it all fit in so ingeniously.

And it was great to be clean. Alex had given them clothes of his own to sleep in and while they had slept, he had washed their shorts and T-shirts. Then hungry as they were, he had insisted that they bathe before sitting down to eat in them. They loved the shower he had rigged up behind his house. Sweet water from his well was pumped into a tank that rested high up on tall stilts. The water was warmed by a flame, and when it flowed down over her Katie thought she had never felt anything so lovely. She couldn't stop sniffing her arms, just to marvel at their fresh smell.

Their uncle waited patiently while they ate. But when they had finished, over mugs of sweet, minty tea they told him their story. They didn't tell it very smoothly. They interrupted each other and left out a lot of parts, and
everything seemed to get said in fits and starts. But even so it was a huge relief to spill it out. And in a way, they only truly grasped what had happened to them when they saw the horror on Alex's face.

They stumbled a little at the end, when they told him how they had climbed the mountain to his house. “We stopped walking for a while,” David said, suddenly not knowing how much to share. “It was hard without the lights and we were afraid—we weren't sure—well, we didn't know if you'd be glad to see us,” he finished lamely.

He had barely caught himself. He'd almost said “We were afraid of what you'd be like.”

Their uncle reddened and swallowed. Apparently David had not caught himself in time. Alex seemed to have figured out what he had really meant.

“We're not worried anymore,” added Katie hastily.

Their uncle nodded seriously. “It was perfectly reasonable for you to wonder,” he said a little stiffly. “You'd been through a lot and you didn't know me at all. And most people don't live by themselves, the way I do. You were probably afraid I was some kind of freak.”

Katie was mortified. “No, we weren't!” she cried.

Unexpectedly, though, David grinned and looked his uncle straight in the eye. “Yep,” he said, “we were. Uncle Alex, we were afraid you were
dangerous
.”

“
David!
”

But David's candor seemed to relax their uncle, who
now grinned back. Katie, who found all this frankness irritating, glared at her brother and pressed forward.

“What we were really worried about,” she said, “was that maybe we'd just been dumb. I mean, we started to worry that even if you
were
nice—and of course, you
are
”—again she glared at David—“you might not be able to help. Even though you know about Rover and everything, we thought maybe there wouldn't be anything you could do to save Mom and Dad and Theo.”

Alex rose to his feet and began striding back and forth across the small room. Katie and David watched him in silence. He seemed lost in thought.

Then he abruptly stopped his restless pacing. He hitched over a stool and sat down between them, planting his elbows on the tabletop and his chin in his hands. “Kids,” he said, frowning, “what you've been through is horrible—beyond words. For children to have to endure this—at your age—I don't know how you made it through. And I really, really want to give it a happy ending, where you get back everything you've lost. But I know you want the truth, so I'm going to tell you right now that it might not be possible.”

Remorse flooded his face as he saw their dismay. “That doesn't mean I'm not going to try,” he corrected hastily. “There is one thing I can do.”

The blood had drained from their limbs and now it began, tentatively, to return.

“I can't say whether it will work,” continued their uncle. “But I can give it a shot, and I will. And you definitely did the right thing coming here,” he added. “If this doesn't do it—what I'm going to try—then probably nothing could.” He paused. “We're going to have to take a trip.”

“Where?” asked Katie.

“
You?
” asked David, incredulous.

This time Katie blushed to the roots of her hair at her brother's rudeness. But once again, Alex didn't seem to take offense. He grinned another crooked grin.

“Of course,” he said. “Travelin' man.”

“Not,” said David. Alex just looked blankly at him, so he amplified. “You're not. Not a travelin' man.”

“
David!
”

Their uncle grew very grave. “It's OK, Katie. It's true that I'm not usually a traveler. I travel to Melville for supplies, but apart from that I haven't left this mountain in almost fifteen years. But try to remember: Your mom and dad and Theo are my family too.”