Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 3 of 150

The back path from Anita's shop dropped through pine and let Ben out on a wagon road by noon. He walked with the sealed box against his ribs. The copper bands were cool. The mask was quiet. But Anita's warning stuck in his ear: the repair would hold to the border and no farther. If he wanted the next relic, he needed another box. A wooden box with a sad face carved into it. He had found the first one by luck in the dairy shrine. He had no idea who made them, or why a carved face could silence a hum that split leather. He needed someone who knew. By late afternoon the road bent toward a tall wooden building set alone in a clearing. Metal pipes stuck out of its roof. Signs hung off every window: MUSIC, OPEN, NOISY HALL. Even from the trees Ben could hear drums through the walls. He almost walked past. Then he thought: a place this loud might know something about sound. About silencing it. He pushed the front door open. The noise hit him like water. A boy sat on a crate by the stage, headphones clamped over his ears, one eye shut against the racket, tapping a drumstick on his knee in perfect time with a song only he could hear. He looked up when Ben's shadow crossed him. He pulled one ear free. "You're bleeding sound," the boy said. "Something under your arm. I can feel it in the floor." Ben's stomach dropped. He pressed the box tighter. "You can hear this?" "Not hear. Feel. There's a hum under the drums." The boy stood. He was small, all elbows and chain and black hair. "Name's Justin. I sell quiet." "You sell what?" "Boxes. Faces on the front. My grandmother carved them. I've got three left." He said it like he was selling apples. Ben kept his voice flat. "Show me." Justin led him behind a curtain into a back room stacked with crates. He pulled a cloth off a low shelf. Three wooden boxes sat there. Each had a mouth carved down-turned, eyes closed. Ben's hand went out before he could stop it. "Why do they work?" Ben asked. Justin shrugged. "Grandmother said sad wood eats sad sound. That's all she'd tell me." He watched Ben's face. "You've got one already. That's why you knew to ask." "How much?" "Not coin." Justin picked up the smallest box and turned it in his hands. "I want to come with you. Whatever you're carrying, I want to see the next one you find. I've never heard anything like what's under your arm." Ben thought of the blue-scaled thing crossing the stream behind him. Of Anita saying she would come find him. Now this boy, wanting in. He took the box. "Pack fast. Something's tracking me, and it runs." Justin grinned and reached for his jacket.