Flotsam Page 11

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Twins

  Brier, Amy, and Tristan sat at the bottom of the grave, staring at each other through the glow of the lantern. They could hear the rumble of thunder echoing through the mountains loud enough to wake the dead. Amy shivered as the rain drenched them, and filled the open, treasure-filled coffin with water and mud.

  Everything felt so dreary and wet that Amy wouldn’t have been surprised if the walls of the grave fell in around them and buried them completely.

  “So, you’re my brother, huh?” Amy asked, staring at Tristan and frowning.

  Tristan shrugged. “I guess. Mom said I was the boy in the picture from your wallet. Your twin.”

  “Twin?” Amy wondered. “Wow. Darn. I’d always hoped that the other kid in that picture was somebody, well, nicer.”

  Tristan scowled, and turned away from Amy’s hard stare. “Sorry to disappoint you. You’re not exactly the kind of sister I would have wanted either.”

  “What kind of sister would you want? Somebody who would sit by, like a quiet little lamb, and watch you make a fool out of yourself taking other people’s money, stealing for an old fart like Locksley.”

  “I didn’t steal for him.”

  “Really. Then who did you steal for? Yourself?”

  Tristan pressed his temples, and shook his head. “At first I might have stolen because it felt good belonging to a group---felt like I finally belonged somewhere. But then, I did it for her.”

  “Her?”

  “My…our mom.”

  “You stole for a woman who doesn’t even care about you?”

  “I thought she did, okay? Just cool it. I’ll bet you would do the same thing too, if she asked you to.”

  “Not if she told me I was a loser,” Amy retorted.

  Tristan glared at Amy with dark eyes. “She told me that it was better to be a loser than to be a seeker like you. Said that’s why she got rid of us in the first place. Because she hated seekers, like our dad, like you. Said they caused trouble everywhere they went. When I asked her if she wanted to see you, she just looked at me, turned around, and started walking away.”

  “That’s a lie,” Brier cut in, seeing the hurt look on Amy’s face. “No mother would ever do that.”

  Tristan laughed. “She did. She walked away. She said she never wanted to see you again.”

  Amy was suddenly at a loss for words. She averted her gaze from Tristan, feeling angry and ashamed.

  Tristan felt a stab of guilt when he saw a stray tear fall down Amy’s cheek. He hadn’t meant to be so heartless. “Hey…” he said, “Amy… I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  “To what?” she snapped. “Make me feel worthless? Well you did. Now go ahead and congratulate yourself. I always knew there was something wrong with me. If it hadn’t been for me, maybe you would still be with her. Maybe you would have had a normal life.”

  Tristan let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe it’s a good thing that I’m not with her.”

  “How could that be good?”

  “Because she’s…she’s…mean, and nasty.”

  “If you ask me…” Brier said, “you two are pretty lucky. I mean, a Loser, and a Seeker sitting side by side. What more could you two ask for in a family, anyway. I think you guys complement each other quite well.”

  “You think what?” Amy snapped, staring at Brier.

  Brier threw up his hands, exasperated. “Never mind what I think. Why don’t you let bygones be bygones and ask your brother to boost you out of here so we can get out?”

  “Oh,” Amy murmured. “That’s a good idea. Tristan, will you boost me up?”

  Tristan nodded. “Sure, whatever.” He knelt down, and waited for Amy to step onto his shoulders.

  Amy sniffed indifferently and got on, pulling his hair, and steadying herself by his ears, just because he deserved to feel a little extra pain for all the hurt he had caused her.

  “Gosh. Ouch! That hurt. Watch it!” Tristan cried.

  Amy smiled, and pressed her foot as hard as she could on his shoulder. “Sorry.”

  “Sure you are.”

  “Come on, you guys,” Brier interjected. “This is serious.”

  “Fine,” Amy said, struggling to reach the muddy opening. “I’m almost there. Tristan, a little further…”

  Tristan stood on his tiptoes. “Is that any better?”

  “Yeah,” Amy panted, digging her fingers into the mud and pulling herself up. “I’m almost out.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The Collapse

  Amy’s excitement on almost reaching the opening was short lived. She could feel herself slipping as the rain from above poured over her, turning the upturned earth into the consistency of melted chocolate.

  “I’m slipping!” she cried.

  “You can do it, Amy,” Brier encouraged. “Just grab something.”

  “What, Brier? There’s nothing but mud.”

  “I don’t know, something.”

  Amy let out a loud cry of dismay, feeling herself slip down. In desperation she reached out, and a strong hand came out of nowhere, pulling her up.

  “Gotcha now, you overgrown pumpkin vine,” Locksley exclaimed, yanking her violently to him. Lightning flashed, and thunder rolled through the mountains, causing Locksley to seem ten times more frightening than he already was.

  “What in toxic plastic wrap, were you doing?” Locksley asked, slapping Amy. “Try to escape once more and I’ll use your deer for arrow practice.” He shook her hard. “Stupid, stupid girl. You’re mine now!”

  “I’m not yours. I’m not anyone’s.”

  “Oh yes you are,” Locksley said, shaking Amy more fiercely. “You are mine. And I’ll do whatever I like with you.”

  “No you won’t,” Amy said, struggling to get free.

  “Yes, I will. You, dwarf-piglet-hobbit-little-bit-crumb-sized girly-girl.” He grabbed her, and held her tight. “Tell me, girl, where are the keys to my truck? I lost them, and came back to get you so you can tell me where they are.”

  Amy smiled slightly, feeling suddenly powerful. She knew something he didn’t. “Oh, you lost your keys? Maybe Tristan was right. Maybe you are a loser.”

  “Pixie-girl, don’t get smart with me. Just tell me where the keys are, and then you’re going to go back into the hole with the others.”

  Amy shook her head. “Nope. Not telling”

  “What?” He shook her harder. “Tell me where the keys are or so help me, I’ll, I’ll….”

  “Show me where Flotsam is, and then I’ll tell you where they are.”

  “He’s safe. You don’t need to know where he is.”

  “Nope. That isn’t good enough. You have to show me.”

  Locksley frowned at Amy, and huffed. “You are a very difficult girl. Fine. I’ll show you.” He peered at Brier and Tristan. “Just think about to getting out of that hole, you two, and I won’t think twice before using my bow and arrow on you. Got that? And I don’t miss. Ever. Tristan knows all too well.”

  Locksley grabbed Amy by the arm, and yanked her along with him, over to the front of the burnt-out church house.

  “Your Flotsam,” Locksley said, “or whatever you call him, is tied up in there.”

  Amy folded her arms in protest. “I have to see him before I tell you where the keys are.”

  “Fine, go in and see him. I’ll be waiting for you right here.”

  Amy sighed, and slowly walked up the rickety steps of the old church house and into the chapel.

  The room was dark. She could barely see the dark outline of Flotsam tied to a row of old pews, looking forlorn and frightened.

  “It’s okay,” she said, running a soothing hand along the back of the fawn’s neck. “Everything is going to be okay. I’ll

  be right…” She paused, picking up Locksley’s keys that he must have dropped while tying Flotsam up, and put them in her pocket. Then she quickly untied Flotsam’s rope. “Go, Flotsam,” she whispere
d. “Get out of here. Run!”

  “The keys!” Locksley shouted, peering through the chapel doors. “Where in the blast are they?” He stopped short, gazing from Flotsam to Amy.

  “You untied him.”

  “Yeah. I did.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Locksley growled, bolting for Flotsam. Frightened, the deer bounded through the door past Locksley, and out of sight.

  “I’ll kill him!” Locksley ranted, watching the deer race away.

  Amy glowered at Locksley, and made a move to sprint past him. Locksley caught her arm, yanking her back.

  “I’ve got you, now,” he yelled, slapping her, and throwing her to the floor. “You’re mine. And the sooner you realize that, the better off we’ll all be. Now I’ll ask you one more time. WHERE ARE THE KEYS?”

  She stared at Mr. Locksley, for one long minute, reached into her pocket, and held up the keys for Locksley to see. “Here are your stupid keys. You must have dropped them while you were tying Flotsam up.”

  “Hand ‘em over,” Locksley commanded, holding out his hand.

  “Here,” Amy said, tossing him the keys. “Happy now?”

  “Yes,” Locksley said, picking them up, and holding the keys triumphantly over his head. “The keys! At last I can go home…”

  That selfsame second, lightning streaked across the sky and struck the keys in Locksley’s outstretched hand. The bolt sent Locksley reeling backwards down the church steps, and onto the ground.

  Shocked, Amy took a step toward the door, but a terrible wind came up, causing the old timbers in the church to groan, and tip. She let out a scream just as the entire frame of the church house collapsed on top of her.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Wolves

  Something about listening to wolves howl on a stormy night, or any night for that matter, is frightening. Their sound is the sound of melancholy nightmares, full of yearning that can never be filled. It is as if they are calling to the dead, waking up ghosts with their mournful cries, while disturbing those yet living.

  Brier and Tristan were sitting opposite each other in the grave, listening to howling grow nearer and nearer, until two wolves appeared above them, snarling and nipping. They heard voices talking in low tones. “Mr. Burnham,” a voice said, “I tink I’ve vound someting.”

  “Is it the girl? Mr. Burnham came up behind Mr. Heckler, shining a light into the dark grave.

  Mr. Heckler let out a whistle. “Boy, oh boy, would you look at all zat treasure! Brier, Tristan, what in za vorld are you two doing down zere?”

  “Long story,” Brier said. “But you had better watch out, Locksley is still out there with Amy.”

  Mr. Heckler’s face grew dark. “Locksley has Amy?”

  “Yeah,” Tristan cut in, “and Locksley’s got his bow. If you’re not careful, he will shoot you. I know.”

  “Nobody’s going to get shot,” Mr. Heckler said, giving the boys a hand, up and out of the grave. “Just stay close behind me, and Mr. Burnham here, and everything will be okay.”

  Mr. Heckler bent down and let his wolves sniff Amy’s old shirt, once again. “Go find her, boys, bring her home.”

  The wolves let out another stream of woeful howls, and took off down the side of the mountain. The group followed the wolves down through the swampy graveyard, and over to the burned church house, where they paused before a body that lay in a crumpled heap before the now-collapsed building.

  “Whose body?” Brier asked, standing a safe ways off. “It’s not Amy is it?”

  “No,” Mr. Heckler said, turning the body over. “It’s Locksley. Looks like he’s been burnt or zometing. Apparently za Locksleys are magnets to lightning.”

  “Is he alive?” Tristan wondered.

  Mr. Heckler checked for a pulse, and nodded. “Yes. Chust barely. Mr. Burnham, go get zome help. Za rest of you boys stay vith me, and help me look for Amy. It looks like Amy could be trapped under zis collapsed building.

  While Mr. Burnham went to get help, Mr. Heckler’s wolves combed over the broken boards of the church house, seeking Amy’s scent.

  “I know she’s under there,” Brier said, staring at the collapsed building, in shock. “It must have fallen in just after that big flash of lightning. She and her deer must have been in there when it went down. She’s dead. I know she is.”

  Tristan frowned, and tossed a broken board at Brier’s feet. “Quit sniveling, and help me. If she is under all this rubble, we need to find her, fast. ”

  Brier nodded, and helped Tristan heft a board off the pile. He went to lift another board, but stopped, and pointed. “Look, the wolves have found something.”

  Dropping the board and nearly knocking Tristan down, Brier scurried over the debris where the wolves who were standing in a circle howling at Flotsam.

  “It’s the fawn,” Brier cried, pushing bravely past the wolves, to the deer. “Tristan, Mr. Heckler! It’s Flotsam. He’s alive.”

  Tristan and Mr. Heckler gazed at the deer, wonderingly. “You know,” Mr. Heckler said. “I have a premonition zat dis deer knows vhere Amy is. See, it’s a law, zat vhenever zomeone does a good deed to another, it’s up to za receiver to pay back zat deed. Even if it’s an animal, it’s obligated to fulfill it. Amy vas za first to find Flotsam vhen he was stuck in zat ditch all by himself. Now Flotsam has led us to Amy. She’s probably zomevhere very near here. Boys, careful vhere you stand. Dis broken building is very tangerous.”

  Tristan and Brier moved cautiously over the boards while Mr. Heckler lifted up a particularly heavy piece of wall, and tossed it aside. Beneath the piece of wall there was a crawl space big enough for a man to fit through.

  “I’m going in, boys. Holler if you zee anyting starting to fall. Okay?”

  “Be careful,” Brier called, watching as Mr. Heckler disappeared beneath the rubble.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The Meaning Of Flotsam

  Mr. Heckler pushed through the crawlspace, shining his flashlight around carefully, seeing only broken boards, and decaying plaster.

  “Amy?” he called, crawling further in. “Amy?”

  There was no answer, only the low drip, drip, from the drizzle of rain that made its way through the piles of debris.

  “God in heaven,” Mr. Heckler cried. “Show me vhere she is! Show me, and I won’t ask for another miracle ever again.”

  He waited for an answer, but none came. Just his own accusing thoughts. He grunted angrily, and pushed further in, over and under boards, looking in every crack, and dark hole. He reached out, through a very narrow crawl space, until his hands came in contact with something hard and metallic. He wrapped his hands around it and pulled, coming up with an old, metal cross that must have fallen off the wall of the church.

  He ran his hands along its edges, staring at it for a long time. “I am the way, the truth, the light,” he murmured, remembering a passage of scripture. “I’m the way,” he repeated again. His heart filled with hope. He reached further down the narrow opening, his hands grasping something warm.

  “Amy?” he asked, his hands trembling.

  He heard a low groan, as Amy reached out, and grasped tightly onto his hand. “You found me,” she whispered.

  “No,” Mr. Heckler corrected. “Flotsam, and za big man upstairs, found you.”

  Amy let out a tired sigh. “It’s nice to be found.”

  “Yes it is,” Mr. Heckler said, shining the light down the crack to see how badly Amy was pinned. A very large piece of wall had settled itself across Amy’s chest, trapping one of her arms and the rest of her lower body. Her forehead had a nasty gash in it. Blood trickled down the side of her face.

  “I found her!” Mr. Heckler hollered behind him so that Brier, and Tristan could hear. “She’s alive. Get help, quick!”

  He turned back to Amy and struggled to lift the boards that held her captive. Sweat poured down his face and he groaned as he tried to lift them. “I’ve almost got it,” he said, heaving the timbers an
inch off her chest.

  A rumble sounded from above, the boards shifted, and the added weight caused Mr. Heckler to release his hold on the timbers so that Amy’s broken body was trapped even more. Amy cried out in pain. “It’s no use. I’m trapped here for good. Guess, this is God’s way of punishing me for never going to church. Now, I’ll be trapped inside one forever.”

  “No! We’ll get you out of here somehow,” Mr. Heckler said, struggling in vain to lift the fallen timbers. “It’s not punishment for anything. Besides you vent to church vith Nate.”

  “That was the first time I’ve ever been in one,” Amy mourned. “Now this is my second.”

  “Vell,” Mr. Heckler said, trying to soothe Amy. “If dis is vhat happens vhen you go inside a church. I recommend zat you stay avay from zem.”

  Amy smiled, and tried to laugh, but the board on her chest caused her to flinch in pain. “Guess. I have a good excuse now.”

  “Yeah, guess you do.” Mr. Heckler said, squeezing her hand.

  Amy closed her eyes, gasping in shallow breaths. “You know. Mr. Heckler. I found everything on the list. Like you wanted me to.”

  Mr. Heckler looked surprised. “Everyting? Including ze find-a-family member part?”

  “Yeah, I did, today. I found out that Tristan is my twin brother. Not only that, I also realized that I might not see you again, and that made me sad. You, Flotsam, Brier, Tristan, and Nate are all my family. I used to think that you had to be blood relatives to be family. Now I know that family is more than just that. Thank you, Mr. Heckle. Thank you for writing that list. It’s helped me to find out how much I already had.”

  Mr. Heckler squeezed her hand, and tried to smile. “If it vasn’t for zat dang list maybe none of zis vould have happened.”

  “If it wasn’t for the list, I would still feel lost. You know, Mr. Heckler, although I’m trapped down here, for the first time in my life I don’t feel lost.”

  “Me neither.”

  “You’ve felt lost, too?”

  “Much more zan you tink.”

  “So are you going to tell me your big secret? If you don’t tell it to me now, I may never be able to find whatever it is you lost.”