he thought, where are you?
“Nah, look, she moved; she ain’t dead.”
“Poke her again.”
Kate felt something jab her in the ribs. She stirred and tried to push it away.
“See? Told you she ain’t dead!”
“Too bad. We’d a’ gotten five dollars for her if she was dead.”
“How five dollars?”
“Rafe says you can sell dead bodies to the doctor college. They give you five dollars each one.”
“What they want dead bodies for?”
“So’s they can cut ’em open and look at their guts and all.”
“Five dollars, huh?”
“Yeah. Poke her again.”
The voices belonged to children, boys. Kate thought it best to speak up before they got any ideas.
“I’m … not dead.”
She forced her eyes open and pushed herself into a sitting position. Her head, indeed her whole body, was throbbing. She felt as if she’d run a marathon, gotten in a fight, and then been systematically pounded on for several hours. Even her teeth ached. She took in her surroundings. She was lying on a wooden floor, and the room about her was cold and small and the only light was what filtered through a pair of filthy windows. Two boys were leaning over her. She guessed they were about ten. Their faces and hands were streaked with dirt. Their clothes had been patched, torn, and then patched again. They both wore cloth caps. One of them held a stick.
“I’m not dead,” Kate repeated.
“Nah,” said the one, not bothering to hide his disappointment, “I guess you ain’t.”
“Where am I?”
“You’re on the floor.”
“No, I mean, where is this?”
“What’re you talking about? You’re in the Bowery.”
The whites of the boy’s eyes stood out against the dirtiness of his face.
“The Bowery.” The name was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Where is that?”
“She means what city,” said the boy with the stick.
“Come off it,” the other said, finally smiling, forgetting thefive dollars he’d have gotten for Kate’s corpse. “You don’t know what city? You’re in New York.”
“New York? But how—” And then she remembered.
She remembered being with Michael and Emma in Miss Crumley’s office, and the storm outside, and the Screecher breaking through the tower window and seizing her arm, and she remembered how she had called upon the Atlas for the first time in months, and her terror as the magic had swept through her.
She remembered opening her eyes and finding herself on a beach under a blazing sun as three wooden ships with tall white sails approached across a sea of brilliant, shimmering blue. She remembered the pain in her arm telling her that the Screecher had not let go. And Kate remembered how, without thinking, she had called upon the magic a second time, and a second time it had flowed through her, and a moment later, she and the creature were struggling atop a stone wall. It had been night; there’d been fire and smoke and shouting, a city in flames, and still the creature had gripped her arm. And Kate remembered how frantic she’d been, knowing that her plan wasn’t working, knowing that she was getting weaker. And she’d called on the magic a third time, thinking, Please, help me, and suddenly she’d been standing in a muddy field under a sky of gray. There had been more screaming, and another sound, like insects whizzing past her face, and still the creature held on. And Kate remembered the explosion and the feeling of being lifted into the air.…
And then she remembered nothing.
And then she remembered waking up in the mud, and men with guns running past, their mouths open and screaming,though all she could hear was the ringing in her ears, and she remembered seeing the Screecher sprawled ten yards away and the
Atlas
between them, and how the creature had begun crawling toward the book, and she remembered knowing that her life depended on getting there first, and knowing also that the creature was closer. And she remembered the second explosion, the one
“Nah, look, she moved; she ain’t dead.”
“Poke her again.”
Kate felt something jab her in the ribs. She stirred and tried to push it away.
“See? Told you she ain’t dead!”
“Too bad. We’d a’ gotten five dollars for her if she was dead.”
“How five dollars?”
“Rafe says you can sell dead bodies to the doctor college. They give you five dollars each one.”
“What they want dead bodies for?”
“So’s they can cut ’em open and look at their guts and all.”
“Five dollars, huh?”
“Yeah. Poke her again.”
The voices belonged to children, boys. Kate thought it best to speak up before they got any ideas.
“I’m … not dead.”
She forced her eyes open and pushed herself into a sitting position. Her head, indeed her whole body, was throbbing. She felt as if she’d run a marathon, gotten in a fight, and then been systematically pounded on for several hours. Even her teeth ached. She took in her surroundings. She was lying on a wooden floor, and the room about her was cold and small and the only light was what filtered through a pair of filthy windows. Two boys were leaning over her. She guessed they were about ten. Their faces and hands were streaked with dirt. Their clothes had been patched, torn, and then patched again. They both wore cloth caps. One of them held a stick.
“I’m not dead,” Kate repeated.
“Nah,” said the one, not bothering to hide his disappointment, “I guess you ain’t.”
“Where am I?”
“You’re on the floor.”
“No, I mean, where is this?”
“What’re you talking about? You’re in the Bowery.”
The whites of the boy’s eyes stood out against the dirtiness of his face.
“The Bowery.” The name was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Where is that?”
“She means what city,” said the boy with the stick.
“Come off it,” the other said, finally smiling, forgetting thefive dollars he’d have gotten for Kate’s corpse. “You don’t know what city? You’re in New York.”
“New York? But how—” And then she remembered.
She remembered being with Michael and Emma in Miss Crumley’s office, and the storm outside, and the Screecher breaking through the tower window and seizing her arm, and she remembered how she had called upon the Atlas for the first time in months, and her terror as the magic had swept through her.
She remembered opening her eyes and finding herself on a beach under a blazing sun as three wooden ships with tall white sails approached across a sea of brilliant, shimmering blue. She remembered the pain in her arm telling her that the Screecher had not let go. And Kate remembered how, without thinking, she had called upon the magic a second time, and a second time it had flowed through her, and a moment later, she and the creature were struggling atop a stone wall. It had been night; there’d been fire and smoke and shouting, a city in flames, and still the creature had gripped her arm. And Kate remembered how frantic she’d been, knowing that her plan wasn’t working, knowing that she was getting weaker. And she’d called on the magic a third time, thinking, Please, help me, and suddenly she’d been standing in a muddy field under a sky of gray. There had been more screaming, and another sound, like insects whizzing past her face, and still the creature held on. And Kate remembered the explosion and the feeling of being lifted into the air.…
And then she remembered nothing.
And then she remembered waking up in the mud, and men with guns running past, their mouths open and screaming,though all she could hear was the ringing in her ears, and she remembered seeing the Screecher sprawled ten yards away and the
Atlas
between them, and how the creature had begun crawling toward the book, and she remembered knowing that her life depended on getting there first, and knowing also that the creature was closer. And she remembered the second explosion, the one
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