Orin Wanderwood's Arc

Chapter 12 of 26

The rain slackened to a thin patter. Orin crouched by the door beside Marrow and watched a slice of the field through the crack. The pale woman stood in the wet grass, tall and stiff, head cocked. If they ran now, she would hear the smallest step and take Lily first. Orin's hand tightened on the last two firecrackers in his pocket. Two would not be enough to cover the run to the trees. Mr. Echo knelt by his pack and pulled out a pair of red shoes. The heels were scuffed. The bows were bright. "My sister's," he said quietly. "She danced in these. Loud. On boards." He set them on the floor. "Sound clings to a thing that was used hard. Not much. Enough to walk on its own for a minute, if I ask." He looked at Orin. "They'll go the other way. She'll follow the sound." A cold spot slid across the room. The little ghost girl who had first pointed Orin toward the butterfly stood by the wall. Beside her, a boy Orin had never seen: dark hair, pale as milk, hands in his pockets. He looked at Kate and Kate went still. "Will," she said. Her voice cracked on it. Will Bush nodded once. He did not speak. Ollie stepped up beside him. Three dead children in the shed, and only Ollie could still make words. "He can walk out there," Ollie said. "He's not living anymore. She can't take what he is now. He'll carry the shoes. We'll go with him. She'll chase the noise and the shapes both." Kate shook her head. Her knife shook in her hand. "No. I just got him back." Will looked at her. He lifted one hand and touched his chest, then pointed at Lily. He mouthed something. Kate closed her eyes. When she opened them she was crying, but she nodded. "Go," she said. "Go and come back." Mr. Echo whispered over the shoes and they twitched, then stood on their heels. Will picked them up. The little ghost girl took one of his hands. Ollie took the other. Orin eased the bolt back. Will stepped out into the field. He set the shoes down ten paces from the shed and let them go. The heels struck the mud in a fast, bright rhythm, tapping east through the grass. The pale woman's head snapped toward the sound. She took one step, then another, then broke into her long stride after the shoes and the three small shapes leading her away. Orin threw the door open. "Now." Marrow had Lily by the wrist. Kate ran last, watching the field until the last second. They crossed the wet grass and hit the tree line and did not stop until the shed was gone behind them. The way south lay open. Behind them, somewhere in the dark field, the tapping had stopped.