Mr. Echo's Arc

Chapter 8 of 25

Past the marked door, the trail opened into a small hollow ringed by thin pines. The two Bunnymen guides stopped at the far edge of the salt line and would not cross. Their ears lay flat. One tapped the ground twice, then stared at Mr. Echo. He understood. They had crossed one hidden door. They would not walk into a second without proof the way ahead was clean. Above the pines, the moon still wore a woman's face. Standing still made them a target. Moving blind killed them. Mr. Echo knelt and set the box in the needles. Kate crouched beside him. "They want a sign," he said. "Something living that goes ahead and comes back." Kate looked up the trail. "Send a scout." "I have no scout." She pulled a folded scrap from her coat. A paper cutout of a swallow, cut for a child's window long ago. "Will kept this," she said, and put it in his palm. Nothing more. He did not need the paper. He needed what it meant. He turned to the little ghost girl at his knee. She was small and light and could not fall through a closed door the way a living body could. But she was alone, and he would not send her alone. He tapped the lid of the box, three light and one heavy. He waited. From the trees on the uphill side, two shapes stepped out. A tall rabbit man and a rabbit woman, both dead, both scarred with pale lines that glowed under the moon. The dead of the warren. They had heard their own kind inside his box for two chapters of walking. They had come to look. Mr. Echo held out the paper swallow to the little girl. "Carry this up the trail," he said. "Stop at anything that eats sound. Come back." He looked at the ghost rabbits. "Go with her. If a door opens under her, pull her out." The rabbit woman nodded once. The rabbit man tapped his own chest, three light, one heavy. The guides at the salt line lifted their ears. The three dead moved up the trail together. The little girl held the paper bird in front of her. The ghost rabbits walked on either side, heads low. They passed a leaning trunk. They passed a stand of young cherry, its blossoms pink even under the cold moon. They stopped once. The rabbit man crouched, sniffed the ground, and steered the girl a step left. They went on. They reached the ridge and turned, and the little girl raised the paper swallow over her head. Mr. Echo looked at the guides. He tapped the box. Three light. One heavy. The lead guide crossed the salt line. The second followed. Kate came after, then Mr. Echo, the loaded box against his chest. Somewhere above the pines, the moon's face turned to watch the ridge. She had seen the paper bird lifted. She knew now that Mr. Echo was moving his party forward, and she knew which ridge to come down.