CHAPTER 18

Unlocking Dr. Harding’s Brain

“You can’t have him back,” said Lord Phineus, his voice creeping into the room with a familiar, maddening tone. “His mind is gone. It belongs to me now.”

Dr. Kincaid dropped to one knee and spoke to Isabel, Samuel, and Edgar as if they were younger than they really were.

“I must talk to him alone,” he said to them. “You may look around and touch the books, but don’t play with the things on the stone tables, and don’t wander off too far.”

Samuel went immediately to the columns of books, while Isabel and Edgar walked past the first of many tables to gaze at the tools and strange objects. They were lost in a world of someone else’s making. There were containers of dirt and rocks and seeds. There were models of Atherton at various stages carved from wood and clay and drawings on countless pieces of paper. Many of the drawings and models were of things that looked frightening: weird plants and trees, winged creatures, Cleaners. Soon Isabel and Edgar drifted apart, each compelled to look in different directions of the vast laboratory.

Dr. Kincaid advanced across the room and stood with Vincent and Sir William. “Leave me with him,” he said. “There are things he and I need to discuss.”

Sir William began to protest, but Vincent knew better. He guided Samuel’s father several steps away, far enough to give the two men of science some space, but near enough that they could pounce on Lord Phineus if necessary.

Dr. Kincaid had no fear of Lord Phineus and came very near to him. But Lord Phineus lurched back against the stone table as if he were trying to keep away from someone who could hurt him.

“Something has happened to the man who built this place,” said Dr. Kincaid. “Something that made him lock the yellow door so that he could not be found.”

“Stop talking to me,” said Lord Phineus. He clapped his hands over his ears. “You can’t have him back! Don’t you see? There are things he can’t know, things that will drive him mad!”

“What would make him lock the door?” repeated Dr. Kincaid, pulling as he often did on his drooping ear. “He burned all the journals and with them all the numbers. But he could not burn the numbers in this room, could he?”

Lord Phineus had been averting his eyes from the host of shadowy numbers that hovered like dark clouds above him. And yet he had not been able to avoid them. There were too many. The numbers, Mead’s Head come to life in the form of Dr. Kincaid, the bite from the Crat — all these things were starting to break Lord Phineus wide open, revealing another man.

“Why don’t you look at the ceiling, Dr. Harding?”

“Stop talking to me!” said Lord Phineus. “Atherton is mine and mine alone. You can’t have it back!”

“Oh, but I can, and I will,” vowed Dr. Kincaid. And then he began reading the numbers on the ceiling out loud, first in a whisper and then a dull voice, and finally, he was yelling the numbers with all his might.

“54329. 21395. 44350. 88604! 56123! 43986!”

“Dr. Kincaid, that’s enough!” cried Vincent, afraid of pushing too hard and destroying Dr. Harding, along with everything else on Atherton. “He’s not unbreakable. He’s still a man.”

Lord Phineus had sagged closer and closer to the floor as each number cut deeper through the black fog surrounding his mind. The fog had cleared little by little at the sound of every number, revealing trap door after trap door opening into knowledge he’d hidden away.

But Vincent was right, Dr. Kincaid had to stop, for some of those doors held dense pockets of information that even a brilliant mind could barely contain. Dr. Harding’s reentry into the world was happening much too fast, and it threatened to kill the already weakened man who lay slumped on the floor in front of Dr. Kincaid.

Vincent lifted Lord Phineus’s head, holding him steady. He appeared to be unconscious and he was pale as a ghost. “You’ve gone too far,” said Vincent, looking at Dr. Kincaid. “He’s no good to us if we drive him insane.”

But Dr. Kincaid was unmoved. He reached his hand back and slapped Lord Phineus hard on the face, then held him by the chin and said his true name with untold authority.

“You are Dr. Maximus Harding, and you will come out!”

Lord Phineus opened his bloodshot eyes and stared at the man before him. He coughed and touched his face where he’d been hit. And then he spoke.

“What have you done, Dr. Kincaid?”

“I’ve woken you up,” said Dr. Kincaid with a smile. “It’s so very good to see you.”

Dr. Harding shook his head and rubbed his eyes as though he’d been sleeping for a year, then he rose to his feet with great effort. Everything about him was changed. He was still sick — so very, very sick — but he was no longer Lord Phineus. His expression had always been cruel even in his kindest moments, but the cruelty had vanished, replaced by solemn regret, something that didn’t belong on the face of Lord Phineus.

“Why, Maximus? Why did you do this?” asked Dr. Kincaid.

“Because of you,” said Dr. Harding. He leaned heavily against the stone table at his back. “And the boy.”

Dr. Kincaid suddenly wished he could be alone with Dr. Harding. He didn’t want Vincent or anyone else to hear about this most delicate part of their complicated history.

Dr. Harding seemed to be getting a little of his strength back. He rubbed the sweat out of his eyes and his expression grew stern. “After everything I did for you,” he said. “For them!”

Them, Dr. Kincaid knew, were the rulers of the Dark Planet who had demanded so much. It was true. Dr. Harding had been terribly used, especially near the end.

“I didn’t intend for things to develop as they did,” admitted Dr. Kincaid.

“You were supposed to protect me,” said Dr. Harding, the words coming out like those of a young boy who’d been betrayed. He scratched fiercely at his leg, and when his hand came back out from beneath his robe, it was covered in blood.

Dr. Kincaid felt ashamed. The boy genius he had found so long ago was terribly injured in every way a man could be. Mind, body, and spirit were broken, and it was Dr. Kincaid’s fault.

“I didn’t know they would use you that way,” said Dr. Kincaid. “I told them not to push you so hard, to let you rest. But they wouldn’t listen. I told them even a brilliant mind can be broken if it’s not cared for. Especially a brilliant mind.”

“Why did you do it?” asked Dr. Harding. He was back at the topic of the boy, Dr. Kincaid could tell, and he tried to veer him off the subject.

“What’s going to happen to Atherton?”

“Where is the boy?” demanded Dr. Harding. He was unmoved in his resolve to discuss the matter.

“How do we overcome the Cleaners?” shouted Dr. Kincaid. “You must tell me, or everyone will perish!”

There was a drawn-out silence. Dr. Harding leaned against the stone table for support. He was growing weaker, though his mind was refreshed. He looked at the ceiling, rolling equations over in his mind and thinking of all that he had created. He was a gentle man, nothing like Lord Phineus, and he loved the feeling of his mind filling with knowledge.

“The Crat have bitten me, haven’t they?” asked Dr. Harding, coming to a number that opened his mind and showed him how he had created the Crat. Dr. Kincaid nodded silently, wishing it were not true.

“Well, then,” continued Dr. Harding. A quiet understanding had overtaken him. “It’s only a matter of time. You know that.”

Suddenly, there came the sound of shouting from Samuel and Isabel, who were running through the laboratory, darting back and forth between columns. The big room was full of echoes and it wasn’t until the two were very near that they could be understood.

“He’s been taken!” cried Isabel. She was in a high state of panic. “Edgar’s been taken!”

“What do you mean, taken?” said Vincent. It seemed impossible. He hadn’t watched carefully because the yellow door was shut tight and locked. No one else could come in, or so he’d thought.

“Taken!” repeated Isabel. “I tried to stop him, but he was too big.”

“Stop who? What do you mean, Isabel?”

“We shouldn’t have left him alone, but Samuel wanted to show me the books.” Isabel couldn’t bring herself to say what had happened. The mere thought of it frightened her beyond reason.

“Sir Emerik!” cried Samuel. “He came down and took Edgar.”

“Where have they gone?” asked Dr. Kincaid, certain of the answer.

“Back into Mead’s Hollow,” said Isabel. Her voice was shaky and quiet. “We followed to the ladder, but Sir Emerik told us he would hurt Edgar if we tried to stop him or cried out for you.”

“I should have killed that man when I had the chance,” said Vincent, feeling as if he’d failed in his duty. “I’ll kill him this time.” He was already starting for the orange corridor when the determined voice of Dr. Harding stopped him.

“No, you won’t.”

Dr. Harding was standing up straight again. He seemed to have gathered a new strength at the sound of Edgar’s name as he shared a bit of surprising information with everyone in the room.

“Mead’s Hollow will soon fill with water. After that, there’s no way out of the Highlands.”

“You might be surprised,” said Vincent, thinking of Edgar’s unmatched climbing skills.

Dr. Harding stared at Dr. Kincaid, who had once been like a father to him. He’d brought the full measure of Dr. Harding’s brilliance into use to save the Dark Planet. But ultimately Dr. Harding had failed everyone. He hadn’t left his life behind and become Lord Phineus because of the crushing weight of so much knowledge or the relentless pressure from those who needed him to succeed. These things played a role in his evolving insanity, but there was something else, something taken from him, that had finally broken him.

“I’m only going to live a few more hours,” said Dr. Harding. “I want to see my boy on Atherton.”

“He doesn’t belong to you!” cried Dr. Kincaid. “He’s not yours to save!”

“And neither does he belong to you,” said Dr. Harding. His voice was calm but direct.

Vincent moved between the two men, sensing a showdown about to erupt, and he spoke the truth of the matter.

“Edgar doesn’t belong to either one of you. He belongs to Atherton.”

Samuel and Isabel looked on, confused and frightened by everything they were hearing.

“As far as I’m concerned he belongs to the grove, and someone needs to get him back.” It was Isabel, and she was angry. “If one of you doesn’t go, I will. I won’t let Sir Emerik take him. I won’t!”

Isabel’s words echoed around the stone pillars and the room fell silent.

“Nine three four five two,” said Dr. Harding. “That one tells me a lot. It tells me how to escape the Cleaners.”

He pointed to a far corner of the room where the numbers could hardly be seen.

“Eight seven four nine one,” he said. “That one opens a very big door to a vast room in my mind. In there I see what I devised, how I built Atherton to move, why it moves, and when it will stop.”

“Stop talking about useless numbers!” cried Isabel. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing and wished they would simply leave in search of Edgar, but Dr. Kincaid was unmoved.

“Tell me these things,” said Dr. Kincaid, utterly focused on Dr. Harding. “I must know them!”

“I will tell you if you release me to get the boy,” said Dr. Harding. “But you must send me alone. You must all move on, away from here, before it’s too late.”

Dr. Kincaid felt like a man crushed under the full weight of all the misery in Atherton.

“I don’t trust him one bit,” said Isabel. “I can’t tell if he’s Lord Phineus or Dr. Harding. And what if he is Dr. Harding? What difference does that make? He could still hurt Edgar if we let him go.”

Samuel agreed. All of his life he’d known the man before him as the cruel Lord Phineus. No matter what anyone said, he was having a hard time believing he could be anyone else.

“We’ll go instead,” said Samuel, looking up at his father. It was a courageous notion, but one Sir William had no interest in pursuing.

“That’s a valiant idea,” said Sir William, “but I’m responsible for you and Isabel, and I can’t think of a more dangerous place than Mead’s Hollow. I can’t take you back in there and I won’t leave you behind. I’m afraid we can’t be the ones to help your friend.”

“Fine!” shouted Isabel. She couldn’t stand that Edgar was getting farther away while they stood arguing. “I’ll go alone, without any of you!”

Out of habit she pulled a black fig out of her pocket and set it in her sling. Her hands were shaking, though she couldn’t have said if it was anger or fear that caused it.

Dr. Harding knelt before her. “Isabel.” He had a powerful but gracious voice up close, and it seemed as if he knew her better than she’d expected. “Whoever goes out there won’t be coming back,” he went on. “But I made Atherton, and I know how to save him.”

There was something about his voice and the way he looked at her that made her tremble. She was at once awestruck and comforted by the close presence of Dr. Harding. Could it really be true? Could this man have made Atherton? She was determined not to believe it but found it impossible not to.

“It’s my final wish,” said Dr. Harding. “Please, just let me go and find Edgar.”

Isabel nodded, convinced that if Edgar was to be saved there was only one person who could save him.

“Bring him back,” she said. “Bring him back and I promise to take care of Atherton for you.”

Dr. Harding smiled for the first time, and he nodded at Isabel as he stood.

Dr. Kincaid tugged on his ear, surprised at the momentary despair he was feeling, and then he, too, nodded his approval.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Harding — I truly am. I thought you could save the world.” He laughed at the thought of it, seeing at once his own folly. “But it turns out no one man can do that. Atherton is irreparably turned to wreckage, like the mind of the man who made it. Even you can’t fix it.”

“Now, now, Doctor,” said Dr. Harding. “Don’t be too sure. It may not be as broken as you suppose.”

And then Dr. Maximus Harding told everyone quickly and with purpose what was going to happen to Atherton and how the Cleaners might be overcome. They all sat spellbound in disbelief at the boldness of Dr. Harding’s intellect. And when he was through, they truly believed there was yet a chance.

“I’m not going to live very much longer,” he finally said. “You must let me be on my way.”

They took him up the narrow corridor, and they told him how Edgar could climb if only he could get out of Mead’s Hollow.

“He’s an amazing boy,” said Dr. Kincaid as Dr. Harding made his way up the ladder. “I believe you can save him.”

Dr. Harding seemed to mentally check the time as he felt Atherton lightly shaking from where he stood at the top of the ladder. He dialed in the letters — m-u-l-c-i-b-e-r — and the round door opened with a wet, hissing sound. Water poured in around the edges like a little river and Dr. Harding cupped one hand, drinking his fill.

“When you feel Atherton move once more — I mean really move — you must be away from here. The next thing that happens will be more violent than all that has come before.”

Dr. Harding hobbled up and out of the opening, glancing back only once, and was gone with the slamming of the door. It wasn’t until then that Dr. Kincaid really broke down and cried. Vincent came alongside his old friend and put an arm around him.

“We’ll never see the likes of him again,” said Dr. Kincaid, for he knew Dr. Harding would be dead before night fell on Atherton.

CHAPTER 19

A Cleaner in the Grove

Gill had never raced a horse so fast in all his life. He had already passed into the trees, and it was hazardous going between the branches. He was hollering as he went for anyone who might be in the way, zigzagging down row after row of second-year trees until he reached the clearing where Mr. Ratikan’s house had once stood.

“HORACE!” he yelled. He wasn’t one for yelling very often, and it came out papery and weak even at his best effort. But Horace was sitting before a table with Maude and Wallace and knew Gill was coming before hearing the call. It was hard to miss the pounding of horse’s hooves through a grove of trees.

“I’m here, Gill,” said Horace. He and Wallace stood up and walked off the porch with Maude right behind. “What’s the matter?”

Gill pulled on the rope around the horse’s neck and came to a stop in the clearing. The animal was soaked with sweat and breathing heavily, its broad tongue searching the air for something wet.

“Cleaners,” said Gill as he dismounted and stood in front of them. “Cleaners are coming, big ones.”

“How many?” asked Wallace.

“And how big?” asked Maude.

“It looked like eight or nine, but I couldn’t be sure.” He looked at Maude. “You said they were six or seven feet long, but these looked larger than that.”

“How much larger?” asked Horace, concern rising in his voice.

“I don’t know. Bigger. Maybe ten feet, but I didn’t get that close.” Gill sniffed the air and caught a scent that shouldn’t have been there. “Who’s cooking rabbit?” he said. “That’s a bad idea.”

Nobody answered him.

“How long before they reach the grove?” asked Wallace.

Gill tried his best to guess, because he really couldn’t be sure. Cleaners moved faster than a man but quite a bit slower than a horse at full gallop.

“I’d guess half an hour, maybe a little less.”

Horace was quick to action in a military sort of way. He sent Maude and Wallace to different parts of the grove to maintain order. They would carefully hide the mothers and children up high in the biggest of the third-year trees, for though these were not especially good places to hide, they were the best places available to them. They would set up groups of men around the trees in ever-widening circles, and if there were women among them who wanted to fight, they would let them fight. Better to protect the children in the face of a coming fury that could bring an end to everything.

And finally, Wallace and Maude were to make absolutely sure that Horace’s wife and young boy were safe. Horace simply could not go to them now, not as the commander at so perilous a time.

“Wallace,” said Horace as his friend was about to depart deeper into the grove. “Your peaceful ways are needed now more than ever. The people will need to feel comforted.”

Wallace stepped closer and touched Horace on the shoulder. “I’m glad a person like me can be of some use at a time of war. It can feel as if there’s no place for me, but you help me find my way. I can ask no more of someone I would follow.”

He said these things to bring encouragement to a man thrust into leadership at a hazardous time.

“If you can make them feel as I do when you speak to me, you’ll have done well,” said Horace.

After Maude and Wallace parted, Horace turned to Gill. He waited until they were completely alone before speaking.

“Bring the fighting men to me, all who remain from the Highlands and the few we picked from the rest,” said Horace. He was suddenly a commander speaking to a soldier, full of authority. “All of the horses, the longest spears, those who have mastered the sling and the black fig — get them all here this instant.”

Gill mounted his horse and started off, but Horace stopped him before he was free of the clearing.

“Wait!” he said. “Bring as many live rabbits as can be carried.”

“Whatever for, sir?”

Horace waved him off and turned back to the porch of Mr. Ratikan’s broken-down house, mumbling to himself. Ten minutes passed and he began to feel uneasy, wondering if Gill had been right about the timing of the coming Cleaners. He heard the sound of many hooves in the grove, coming at a charge, and was stern-faced and solid as a rock when the group of men on horses burst into the clearing.

The horses looked tired just from the short gallop through the trees, and Horace knew that they needed water he could not provide. This would be one of maybe two good fights he could get out of them. After that, he wasn’t sure how he could even keep them alive.

Gill dismounted and pulled along with him two horses, his own and one he’d brought for Horace. They all waited, looking at Horace in the quiet peace of the clearing, as their leader listened to the sounds of the grove. At length, he spoke.

“It would be best if our enemy were turned back,” he began. “If they make it into the trees, it will be harder to contain them, and there is a chance they could get as far as the outer circle that guards the children. If even one Cleaner were to make it that far, it might get past other circles and find its way to a tree that holds a child.” He paused before stating the obvious. “That would be unacceptable.”

Everyone nodded their agreement, gazing back into the grove and thinking about the difficulty of containing a large, wild animal within the trees. But there was one from the grove who did not agree.

“What you say is true, to a point,” said the man. “But don’t forget we’ll have to be out in the open with them if we leave the grove. There is safety in these trees you shouldn’t overlook.”

Horace nodded. He had thought of this, thought of the risk and the possible reward of fighting from within the grove. In the end, he had abandoned the idea.

“We can’t risk having them loose through the trees. There are endless entry points, and they all lead eventually to those we must protect. We have to try, at all cost, to keep them from the grove.”

The man, though not entirely convinced, signaled his approval.

“Who among you have mastered the sling?” asked Horace.

Six hands went up quickly and decisively, another four rose halfheartedly and stopped at half-mast. Horace called the six forward, then turned to Gill.

“Where are the rabbits?”

“Here, sir!” cried a man from the back. He and two other men dismounted their horses and came forward with squirming sacks of rabbits.

“How many in each bag?” asked Horace.

“About fifteen, sir.”

“Back on your horses and keep the rabbits with you.”

Then Horace proceeded to lay out his plan in the two or three minutes he was willing to risk before leaving for the very edge of the grove. After that they set off, most of them unsure of what they were about to encounter.

“I’m not sure this is going to work,” said one of the men with a sling.

Horace had heard this several times already, and he would have none of it. “You will make it work.”

Together they were ten men alone in the open of Tabletop — the three men who carried the sacks of rabbits with the six men who had claimed to have mastered the use of a sling, along with Horace, who was the only one on a horse. Fifty yards behind the ten men were forty men on horses, standing at the ready, spears in hand. The edge of the grove sat another fifty yards beyond that. And then there was what lay in front of Horace and his nine men. The Cleaners had come into view.

They were close enough that Horace could hear the snapping of their jaws and the clanging of bony legs. And he saw on their approach that they were massive in size. He could tell by their movement that they saw him and his men not as an enemy but as a source of food, for they showed no sign of slowing to regard the situation before them. They charged on as a herd of wild animals that had spotted easy prey and wanted only to be the first to sink their teeth into it.

“Do it now,” said Horace. “Before they get much closer.”

There were two men with slings for each man with a sack of rabbits, the teams set apart by ten feet between them. Rabbits were quickly taken from the sacks and placed awkwardly into the slings in such a way that their bellies fit inside and their legs dangled loosely over the edges. The moment the rabbits were in place they were swung in a circle overhead, spinning faster and faster, and then they were released with a snap! snap! snap!

Three rabbits flew wildly through the air, legs searching for something to hold onto, until they bounced and rolled on the ground in the distance. Two of the three hobbled up, limping but alive, and began moving about. The third lay motionless.

“Again!” cried Horace, “but with a little less force this time.”

He wanted the rabbits as a diversion, not a meal, and they needed to be kept alive and darting in every direction if his plan was to work.

Three more rabbits were loaded and flung out into the open, and the result was the same: three more rabbits that were injured or killed in the effort. The Cleaners were gaining speed, a plume of dust building behind them, and Horace saw that another method would be needed.

“Give me the sacks!” he yelled, “and get back to your horses!”

The men hesitated only briefly, then handed the heavy sacks to Horace before dashing off in the direction of the grove. Horace could barely hold the sacks in one arm as he kicked his horse and sprang into action. The sacks dangled precariously at his side, threatening to catch in the horse’s legs as he drove headlong toward the pack of oncoming Cleaners.

When he was but twenty yards off he pulled up short, stunned by the absolute fury of the creatures coming toward him. He turned the bags over one at a time and let loose the fifty or more rabbits that remained. The moment they were out of the bags they spread out chaotically over the open expanse of the Flatlands.

Horace raced for the grove, looking over his shoulder as the Cleaners came upon the sea of dancing food. The creatures reared up and began trying in vain to capture the rabbits in their smashing teeth. Cleaners were fast, but rabbits were faster, and while a few were soon devoured, many more darted between and jumped over the Cleaners, sending the mad beasts into a furious rage of spinning and slashing.

“Now!” cried Horace. He reared his horse back toward the Cleaners as Gill came alongside him and handed him a long, sharp spear. All the other horsemen came up in three lines behind them as he had instructed, and Horace’s army made for the mayhem in the Flatlands. The Cleaners were so busy slashing and biting at the rabbits and at each other they scarcely saw the attack coming before the horses were right in their midst.

The battle did not go well for either party. Nearly all of the Cleaners felt the sting of a spear, but only two of the eight were killed immediately with a spear to the mouth. Five of the remaining six were injured but not killed, and the last, the biggest among them, was not harmed at all.

As the rabbits became a secondary concern and moved out of harm’s way, the men on horses and the stunned Cleaners went into a prolonged battle of cutting teeth and lunging spears. Gill was jabbing at a Cleaner before him when from behind an even larger Cleaner reared up into the air and opened its hideous mouth. It stood upright at shoulder level to Gill, dripping slime from its suction cups, and it lunged toward his back.

But Horace had seen what was happening and came galloping at a full head, and as the beast came forward, it met a spear down the throat and through the brain, tumbling down off the back of Gill’s horse.

The battle raged on in the open before the grove, but the largest of the Cleaners was also the smartest, and without anyone’s noticing, it moved off with surprising swiftness, away from the violence. It moved with purpose, toward the shelter of the trees where it could hide.

Finally, at great expense to man and horse, the remaining giant Cleaners were either killed or turned back. Four of the eight were dead or dying on the bloodied ground and three had been forced back with near mortal wounds. They hobbled off, barely alive, and the men who remained dismounted, trying to save those who had fallen.

“Back on your horses!” cried Horace. Of the fifty who had begun the fight, only twenty remained, and many of the horses had been felled or were running wild in the open with the rabbits.

“But we can’t leave them!” said one of the men. “Some are still alive!”

Horace turned to Gill, who had remained on his horse.

“There were eight. I counted them!” said Horace. “Only four lay dead and three have crawled away, but there were eight. I’m sure of it.”

Everyone turned at once and looked toward the line of trees. Nothing was there, nothing moved.

In the end Horace left two men with the fallen army to do what they could. He took the rest on horses and sped back toward the trees.

A Cleaner — the largest among them at twelve feet — had escaped into the grove unnoticed.

CHAPTER 20

A Motherless World

Edgar’s wrist was almost as sore as the place where his pinky was missing by the time Sir Emerik had dragged him all the way back to the opening of the main chamber in the House of Power. He had been biting the air with his teeth for the better part of two hours and his jaws were tight and sore. He felt as if he’d been chewing on a tough chunk of mutton served to the food line at Mr. Ratikan’s porch, one that simply would not go down his throat no matter how hard he tried.

They’d had no light at all for a while, but Sir Emerik seemed to have gotten his bearings about the place and he strode fast and with purpose until the dim light of the source of all water could be seen. They’d gone right to it, touched the wall with the blue line, and followed it all the way out of Mead’s Hollow. Edgar could tell when they’d arrived inside the House of Power because it was very steep there, rounding back and forth, until they arrived finally at the main chamber.

Sir Emerik threw Edgar onto the floor in front of him and climbed out of Mead’s Hollow. He was breathing hard, covered in grime and sweat, licking his lips in search of water.

“Never again!” he said. “I will never go down there again!”

He stepped away from the opening and searched the room for water. He seemed unaware or uninterested in the amount of light that crept into the room. Finding a flint on the table and a torch with a heavy stone bucket of fuel, Sir Emerik soon had light to aid him in his search. He found a similar stone container of water beneath the table, half filled, and he gulped and coughed. It struck Edgar as odd that both containers, the one for the fuel and the one for the water, were made of thick stone with heavy wooden lids that fit tightly. It was as if someone had known Atherton would quake uncontrollably and regular buckets would tip over and spill.

Night had yet to come to Atherton, though it was nearing as Edgar leaned out the window and saw the tube of dim light pouring in from far above. The Highlands were dreadfully far belowground, hidden almost entirely in a heavy blanket of shadow. It was a desolate place, and as he looked intently along the black walls that surrounded him, he was unsure if he could climb out if given the chance.

“Anyone out there?” cried Edgar.

Sir Emerik advanced to the window and pushed the boy aside. From below there came a voice filled with surprise.

“Sir Emerik? Is that you? I’m coming, sir!”

It was the one person who had stayed behind, and he was running through the courtyard in search of the voice. He advanced up the stairs and was soon knocking on the door to the main chamber.

“It is you!” cried Tyler when Sir Emerik opened the door. There was a big lump on his forehead, and Edgar was reminded of how he’d hit the poor man with a black fig.

Despite his hasty arrival, Tyler seemed unwilling to enter the room. “You don’t look so good, Sir Emerik,” he said with some unease. Sir Emerik didn’t smell right, he thought. Was the man in front of him rotting away?

Emerik strode directly to Tyler, his eye twitching ever so slightly, and bellowed into the man’s face, “Call me lord, you fool!”

Tyler stood shaking in the doorway. It had not been a good day, and the raving lunatic who stood before him was only making things worse.

“Yes,” said Tyler, bowing, “Lord Emerik.”

Sir Emerik proceeded to slam the door in Tyler’s face. Then he yelled with a force that could be heard all the way into the hall outside the room. “Bring me something to eat!”

Sir Emerik strode to the wall and took the torch he’d lit. “Oh, how I’ve waited for this moment.” The twitch returned to his eye as he waved the flame happily out in front of him. “You remember how you tied me up and burned my hair off ? You remember that, don’t you, Edgar?”

Edgar was breathing hard, backed up against the window. It was too far to jump, and he didn’t think he could slither out and climb down, though the thought crossed his mind as he glanced behind him through the opening.

“Get away from the window,” said Sir Emerik. He moved as fast as the Crat and poked the flame into Edgar’s face until the boy was against the thick ivy on the wall. “Now,” said Sir Emerik, glee building in his voice. “Now let’s burn your hair off and see how you like it!”

Sir Emerik lunged for the boy playfully, laughing and coughing up watery blood from some broken place inside, thinking only of how grand it was going to be to torture Edgar and then kill him with his bare hands.

Edgar was nothing if not quick like a rabbit, and he dodged the oncoming flame as it was thrust toward him. Sir Emerik cackled as he prodded with the torch, hitting the drying ivy on the walls and setting off little fires around Edgar’s head. Edgar lunged for the torch and nearly knocked it free from Sir Emerik’s hand. He followed with a punch to Sir Emerik’s stomach, and the self-proclaimed ruler of the Highlands doubled over for an instant as Edgar stepped back toward the wall.

Sir Emerik screamed, his eyes bulging wildly. He lunged forward hard and fast, almost falling headlong as Edgar darted quickly to one side. Edgar watched in stunned silence as Sir Emerik slid down the wall and crumpled into a heap on the floor, the butt of a knife sticking out of his back.

Behind him stood Dr. Harding.

“Why did you do that?” asked Edgar, as incredulous as he was surprised to see the man’s sudden arrival. His voice was shaking and unsteady. Edgar wasn’t sure if he was looking at a friend or a foe, and if the knife might be aimed at him next.

“Because I’m not who you think I am,” said Dr. Harding. He slowly sat down on the floor of the main chamber and it looked to Edgar as if he were an irreparably damaged man.

Edgar was quick to action, taking the butt of the knife in his hand and pulling it free from Sir Emerik’s back. He held it close to Dr. Harding’s face. Was this Lord Phineus, or maybe a mad scientist who only wanted to harm him? If he could escape the room he could make it to the wall. And if he could make it to the wall, there was a chance he could get out.

“You don’t want to use that,” said Dr. Harding. “Let’s just sit and talk a moment. I only want to help you.”

This could not be Lord Phineus. There was compassion in the voice of the man slumped on the ground in front of Edgar, something not possible for Lord Phineus. Edgar placed the knife out of Dr. Harding’s reach, then found the torch and came near the ailing man on the floor.

“Let me get you something to drink,” said Edgar. He was reminded that Tyler might return soon with food, but he pushed the thought aside as he went to the bucket and brought back a cup of cold water. Dr. Harding gulped heartily, coughing as Sir Emerik had, and it seemed to revitalize him.

He smiled at Edgar.

“Do you know who I am?” asked Dr. Harding. He squinted at the boy in a kindly way, not sure of what Edgar knew.

“You’re Dr. Harding,” said Edgar. “You made this place.”

“I made more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

Dr. Harding scratched at his leg and wiped his hand on his sleeve. There was a dreary pause before he spoke.

“I mean I made you, Edgar.”

Edgar was at once confused and excited by the idea. “You mean you’re my father? How can that be?”

A moment of regret rose in Dr. Harding’s eyes.

“He took you from me. I was doing all right until then, keeping my mind on the work, not reading things I shouldn’t read or adding more numbers, more rooms.”

“You’re scaring me,” said Edgar.

“Dr. Kincaid took you from me. That’s what drove me to burn the journals, to burn all the numbers and the rooms in my mind. I was filled with anger for what he’d done — what they all did. They used me! And they took the one thing I cared about. They took you.”

“Are you really my father?” asked Edgar. Something about the way Dr. Harding spoke made him uneasy. He didn’t feel like Dr. Harding’s son, and this bothered him a great deal.

“That depends on what you mean by father,” said Dr. Harding, looking down at the floor and scratching again at his leg.

“Are you my father or not? It’s a simple question.”

Dr. Harding gazed at the boy before him, full of emotion and longing. He wanted only to hold him and talk with him as he thought fathers and sons should do.

“I made you, Edgar, like I made Atherton.”

Edgar thought about this idea and didn’t like it one bit. “How did you make me?”

Dr. Harding turned away, unable to look Edgar in the eye. “Well, to be fair, Dr. Kincaid helped,” said Dr. Harding. “He’s a smart man. I told him I wanted a companion — a son, not a wife — and he agreed to help me. But then things began to unravel here, on Atherton. There was so much pressure to get it right, so much work to be done. He said I was neglecting you and that you might get hurt. Dr. Kincaid thought it was best to take you away, to hide you from me. He was wrong.”

Edgar suddenly had a hopeful thought, one that he imagined might make him feel better. “If you made me, then who is my mother?”

If there was a question Dr. Harding had hoped to never hear, it had just been asked. Every boy wants a mother, especially one who has been living like an orphan most of his life.

“You have no mother,” Dr. Harding said. “I make things, remember? I suppose that’s my curse.”

Edgar couldn’t believe what he was hearing. I’m made — like a house or a wooden bowl. Had he been made with strange tools and gadgets such as the ones he’d seen in the laboratory beneath the House of Power? It was a terrible thing to realize. Is this why I feel so lonely, why I feel happiest alone, climbing high on the cliffs of Atherton? At that moment it felt to Edgar as if all of Atherton was motherless. No wonder it was so broken, a motherless world driven by a man of science. How could it have been any other way?

Edgar wanted something, anything he could hold on to that would make him feel like a normal boy.

“Have I ever been to the Dark Planet? Did I live there once?” He had been so sure when he’d dangled his feet over the edge of Atherton and looked down at the world beneath him that it had once been his home. He’d wanted to go there.

“You were the firstborn of Atherton,” Dr. Harding almost sang the words as he recalled the idea of Edgar coming to life in the laboratory beneath Mead’s Hollow. “There’s no darkness in you, no mark of the Dark Planet, and that makes you very special. I made Atherton for you, Edgar, before you were created and then after. Atherton was always for you. And so you and Atherton are mysteriously linked. I’m not entirely sure the two of you can survive without each other.”

Edgar was too confused and tired to say anything in response.

“We have a little time,” continued Dr. Harding, trying to make amends. “The next really big change won’t start until after light tomorrow. You could get some rest.” Edgar listened as Dr. Harding’s voice became mystical, as if he’d passed into a room in his mind that he’d waited a very long time to open, and peeking inside had found the dawn of time hiding there. “The first day of creation has passed. The Highlands are safe until the second day comes.”

There was a quiet knock at the door, and Dr. Harding lunged across the floor for the knife.

“It’s food,” said Edgar, touching Dr. Harding gently on the arm. “You don’t need to worry.”

Edgar went to the door and opened it, took the stale loaves of bread that were offered, and asked Tyler to come back in the morning. At first Tyler was unsure, but then he saw Lord Phineus on the floor glaring at him and he nodded, running off down the stairs.

The two sat together against the ivy-covered wall, the boy and his maker, and they ate dinner. Dr. Harding told Edgar about himself and his life, the things he could remember. It was hard to keep his broken mind focused and at intervals he trailed off into things Edgar didn’t understand, but it was very much like the kind of conversation a boy and a father ought to have: a little laughing, some whispering of secret things, a hug. To sit with Dr. Harding in the quiet of the House of Power and not to feel afraid or alone, if only for a moment, was a great relief to Edgar.

“I understand you can climb out of here,” Dr. Harding remarked at one point when Edgar leaned over into Dr. Harding’s arms, so very tired. “That will be easier when there’s some light and after you’ve had some sleep.”

It was then that Dr. Harding told Edgar about how Atherton would continue to change and how to defeat the Cleaners, but the boy was quickly drifting off, and the words were heard as a dream that may or may not be remembered come morning.

Dr. Harding stayed awake long after Edgar was sound asleep, watching the boy and smiling at the wonder of what he’d made.

CHAPTER 21

The Cavern

It was Vincent who was clearly in charge from the very moment Dr. Harding closed the yellow door and locked everyone below Mead’s Hollow.

“We have to go quickly,” he began. “If what Dr. Harding said was true, there’s not much time for us to take what we can and be gone.”

Dr. Kincaid nodded, though he was still in something of a daze. Dr. Harding was gone, never to return, and he couldn’t be sure if anything the man had said was true. Dr. Harding had gone mad not once but twice, first after losing Edgar and becoming Lord Phineus, and then after being bitten by the Crat. Dr. Kincaid felt a terrible sorrow at the loss of such a great mind. Lost in these thoughts, he began to walk down the orange corridor in silence and Isabel fell in step beside him.

“Will he find Edgar?” she asked.

Dr. Kincaid didn’t know very much about children, but he was aware that sometimes they looked to adults for a glimmer of hope that would sustain them.

“Dr. Harding is the smartest man alive,” said Dr. Kincaid. “Rest assured, Sir Emerik hasn’t a chance.”

“If only he can get out of Mead’s Hollow, he’ll be able to climb to the top. He could tell my parents that I’m all right.”

She was worried for Edgar, but in the past few hours she’d become even more concerned about her own family. She wanted desperately for them to know she was okay, and that got her thinking about whether she actually was okay.

“Dr. Kincaid,” she said as they rounded the corner into the laboratory, “how are we going to get out of here?”

He glanced at her and patted her gently on the back.

“Wait and see,” he said, with the maddening air of secrecy she had come to expect.

When she entered the laboratory, Vincent was busy gathering things into a bag with straps that enabled him to carry it on his back. Pointing to a pile of such bags, he ordered everyone to pick one up and follow him. The bags were open at the top, but there were strings to tie them shut, and each person took one, following in a line behind Vincent. Most of what he placed in the bags were things Isabel and Samuel didn’t recognize, and they were left to imagine that he wanted to preserve relics from the laboratory that might be useful later: tools, drawings, artifacts, models.

He came to the end of the table farthest from the entry and there he opened a wooden panel. Inside was a row of spears of a kind no one had seen before. The ends were capped with a hard, clear substance, and removing one with a pop, Vincent revealed a sharp, metal tip that ran six or seven inches down in a jagged line.

“Take the cover off only when I tell you to. These are dangerous weapons I hope you won’t need.”

He put the cap back over the end of the spear and handed it to Dr. Kincaid, who seemed perfectly happy to let Vincent take control of the situation.

“Each of you put your pack on and keep hold of these,” he said, handing out the spears one by one. “What you carry on your back is all we have left of what Dr. Harding created. These notes and tools may well provide us with the clues we need to survive not only for a day but for a lifetime on Atherton. Care for them well.”

Everyone did as they were told, though they all held their spears awkwardly.

“We’re about to go someplace that will surprise most of you,” said Vincent. “There are dangers in this place of a kind you’ve never seen. Follow close behind me, and use the spears as walking sticks to help you along.”

He looked at each person slowly and steadily. Then he took a crossbow from where the spears had been stored, and he loaded it with an arrow from a container of a dozen arrows flung over his back. The loaded crossbow was a contraption Sir William, Samuel, and Isabel had never seen before. Isabel felt inside her front pocket — three black figs and her sling — and she wondered if she would need them wherever they were going.

“Won’t we need water and food?” asked Sir William.

Vincent turned to the group one last time before leaving. “There’s plenty of water where we’re going,” he said. “Food will have to wait. Just stay close and walk in a line as best you can.”

As they approached the far end of the laboratory, Samuel looked back at the columns of books that he wished he could have a chance to read. He couldn’t stand the idea that they might be lost forever. He and Isabel were positioned in the line behind Dr. Kincaid and in front of Sir William, who took up the rear.

Vincent knelt down and peered beneath the last of the stone tables, and then he crawled underneath.

“Where do you think we’re going?” asked Isabel, whispering to Samuel as she watched Vincent disappear into the darkness beneath the stone table.

“I wish I knew,” said Samuel, crouching down as his turn came.

“Stay close to me, will you?” asked Isabel, following behind.

“I promise I will,” said Samuel. “And I’m sorry for bringing you down here, Isabel.”

She was about to tell him it was all right, that she felt afraid but safe within the group, when she came to a hole under the table and watched Samuel disappear into it. Cold air drifted lazily out of the hole, air that smelled like mud. She breathed in deep and stepped inside, touching the cool walls to guide her way.

As the pathway led downward and turned sharply to the left and to the right, the faint light from the laboratory quickly disappeared and was replaced by a new supply of light from somewhere around an unknown number of curves on the path. The group of five twisted and turned as the light increased before them. Looking back, Sir William saw only black, and he realized then that they would never go back.

“This place is changed,” said Dr. Kincaid as they all stepped together into a wide, dimly lit cavern. Long shafts of stone shot down from a high rock ceiling and the stone walls dripped with water. Small pools lay here and there along the cavern, and crags of rock jutted out from the ground in every direction.

“I hope our way is not blocked,” Dr. Kincaid continued.

“It well could be,” said Vincent. “We should hurry before Atherton moves again.”

Sir William came up alongside the two men and left Samuel and Isabel to marvel at the strange underground world they’d come into. Samuel poked his spear at the rocks and found them to be as hard as any others he’d encountered, though they were of a red and orange color he hadn’t seen before.

“What is this place?” asked Sir William.

Vincent and Dr. Kincaid exchanged a knowing glance, and the two realized they’d need to tell.

“Make it quick,” said Vincent. “I’m going ahead to choose a safe passage.”

Vincent moved off and Dr. Kincaid stood before Sir William, Samuel, and Isabel.

“It used to be different,” said Dr. Kincaid. “It used to be wider and there was better light, fewer stones strewn about.”

He glanced at the walls of the cavern, trying to get his bearings. “Before, when the Highlands were up there”— he pointed toward the rock ceiling —“our way was very different. We could travel beneath the Flatlands and up through the inside of Tabletop, and then up through the inside of the Highlands. But the Highlands are below Tabletop now, so this cavern is new to me. It’s not the same as it once was.”

“So you’ve been to the laboratory before?” asked Samuel.

“Oh, yes, many times. I’ve even been to the Highlands, just not since the lock on the door was altered. The laboratory was ours, Dr. Harding’s and mine, not his alone.”

“This cavern leads home!” cried Isabel, realizing freedom might be possible after all. “It leads all the way to the Flatlands where we can find everyone!”

“If we’re very lucky, yes,” said Dr. Kincaid. “But our way is uncertain until we find the opening.”

“The opening?” said Samuel.

“If we can make it to the inside, we can make it home.”

“What do you mean, the inside?” asked Isabel.

“The laboratory, believe it or not, is located beneath Tabletop, so we’re already free of the Highlands. It’s disorienting, I realize, but the old passageways are changed or vanished. New ways are before us, but they still lead inside.”

Isabel still didn’t understand what he meant by inside, but her mind was turning over the idea that she was beneath her home, maybe beneath the grove itself. She looked up half expecting to see the roots of the trees shooting down from the ceiling.

“My mind can’t process where we are or how we got here,” said Sir William. “This shifting world makes no sense.”

Dr. Kincaid didn’t know what he should say, because there was a part of him that felt just as Sir William did.

“Sometimes,” he began, having struck on a way of explaining, “over the years as Dr. Harding and I worked beside each other, he would show me a page filled with calculations and drawings and he would say to me, Don’t you see? This is how we get from here to there, but it was like a language I couldn’t understand. His ways went beyond me, until I could no longer see where he was going. Atherton is like that. Our way is like that.”

“That’s not very helpful,” said Sir William, smiling as he liked to do to brighten the spirits of those around him. Dr. Kincaid laughed and his mood improved. He was about to go on when Vincent came back into view through the shadows and light of the cavern.

“We should go,” he said. “From what I can tell our way will be harder than before. It’s flat, so we won’t have to climb down as we used to, but much has caved in. I just hope there’s still a way inside.”

“How far?” said Sir William. He was aware that Samuel and Isabel hadn’t slept for a long time. Vincent glanced at them, then back at Sir William.

“If our way isn’t blocked, only an hour. We must get inside as fast as we can, then we can rest.”

“What is this ‘inside’ you keep speaking of ?” asked Sir William. “We don’t understand.”

“Please, just come along,” said Vincent. “It will be easier to show you than to tell you.”

Sir William knelt down in front of Samuel and Isabel, worried for them. “Can you do this?” he asked.

Isabel did not like being treated as a child. It was true she was afraid and unsure, but she didn’t want anyone else to know. She scowled in Sir William’s general direction, then marched right past him toward Vincent without a word.

“You found a tough one there,” said Sir William, looking at the frail boy before him. Samuel had never been one to have a lot of energy, and his father remembered him as a reader, not an adventurer.

“If she can do it, so can I,” said Samuel, and he, too, strode past his father in the direction Isabel had gone. In truth he was feeling tired and chilled, but he couldn’t bear the idea of disappointing his father. If Isabel could be so brave and determined, so could he.

The group moved as one snaking line through the cavern, and a snake it truly was, for where a clear path had once been there was now something more treacherous. Many of the long stones that had hung down from the ceiling had broken off like great teeth, shattering on the ground and leaving a path filled with boulders. And while it seemed that Atherton was not moving, the sound of crashing and splintering rock echoed everywhere through the cavern. The light remained elusive, a light that was at once everywhere and nowhere at all. It was a light of yellow and orange caught in black shadows, full of mystery and depth.

After a trek that lasted more than an hour but less than two, Vincent came to a place where he held back his hand as if to tell everyone to stop and be still. Before them lay a pile of stones that blocked their way. Through the stones shone shards of light from a source that seemed brighter than what they’d encountered before.

“We have come to the place where Tabletop and the Flatlands meet,” said Vincent, pointing to the pile of rocks pierced through with beams of light. “The inside is there.”

It was a treacherous climb up the side of the pile of rubble that lay in front of them, and Vincent insisted on taking the old man up to the top first, where an opening remained. As he started back down to help Sir William, Samuel, and Isabel, there came a sound of cracking from high over their heads.

“Run!” screamed Vincent from his perch. A long stone shaped like a spear had broken free above the group of three and it was falling through the air. Sir William dropped his weapon and grabbed both children around the waist, then dove toward Vincent. When the narrow stone hit the cavern floor it burst into pieces, chunks sparking loose in every direction.

Vincent scrambled down the rock face and found that the three were bruised and scraped but otherwise unharmed.

“Let’s get these two out of here,” said Sir William, hauling Samuel and Isabel to their feet. They dusted themselves off and examined scraped elbows and knees, then the group of four began the climb to the top of the mountain of stones. Up they went, using their spears to balance and pulling one another up by the hand over the larger rocks. When they came to the very top Vincent went into the light and beckoned the rest to come inside.

When Isabel, Samuel, and Sir William were safely through to the other side, they climbed down the rubble without speaking, for they were overcome with surprise.

The five of them were inside Atherton, and a breathtaking new world lay hauntingly before them.

CHAPTER 22

Inside Atherton

“We must rest awhile,” declared Vincent. “And this is a very good place to do it.”

They had moved away from the pile of rocks and stood at the outer edge of a large alcove that looked out over the inside of Atherton. There was a large pool to one side, fed by a trickling but steady flow of water, and the alcove danced with liquid shadows shot through with the color of flames. Everyone removed their packs and stood together staring into the open expanse.

“Where does the light come from?” asked Isabel. She was mesmerized by beams of light radiating brilliantly from behind what could only be described as a range of mountains. It was as if they’d come inside on the peak of one of those mountains and found themselves looking down on formations of sharp spires rising up from a valley floor cast in the deep colors of night. The space seemed to go on forever, with cracks of dazzling light from the ground shining into the air.

“The light comes from outside,” said Dr. Kincaid. He had looked forward to this moment as they’d made their way through the cavern. “The bottom of Atherton is shaped like half a circle. It’s huge and heavy, and the very middle is filled with water and something heavier, something I don’t claim to understand. But around the wide edge, where the Flatlands are above us, it’s an open world, the world you see before you now.”

“But how does the light get inside?” asked Samuel.

“The bottom of Atherton is not made entirely of stone. It’s made also from something clear, or almost clear, something that light can penetrate.”

Dr. Kincaid smiled and breathed deep the cool, wet air as if he had come to a place he remembered but had missed.

There came an unnerving sound inside Atherton that startled Dr. Kincaid out of his happy moment. Vincent whipped his crossbow into position quick as lightning, pointing the sharp arrow toward the sky.

“What was that?” asked Isabel. It had sounded like a scream, but an inhuman one. Through a beam of light far below, the shadowy figure of a flying beast moved across the cliffs. Isabel, Samuel, and Sir William had no memory of any such creature, a flying creature, and they were equal parts afraid and fascinated.

“Do you remember when Dr. Harding, or I should say Lord Phineus, called this place Pandemonium?” asked Vincent. The group nodded but didn’t take their eyes off the moving shadow below. “He called it that for a reason, for it is here that he put some of the creatures he made that had no place on Atherton.”

“Why did he put them here?” asked Samuel, feeling increasingly uneasy about this place despite its wild beauty.

“Because they were too dangerous to put anywhere else, and he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of them.”

“Now, Vincent,” Dr. Kincaid broke in, “not everything inside Atherton is dangerous. And besides, everything that resides here is needed to make Atherton work. The Inferno, for one. Without it Atherton couldn’t exist at all.”

“The Inferno isn’t what worries me right now,” said Vincent. “It’s the Nubian I’m concerned with.”

“Dr. Harding sure did make a lot of things that do more harm than good,” said Isabel, thinking of the Cleaners and the Crat and the Nubian, which she assumed was the thing flying around far below.

Dr. Kincaid didn’t say anything. There was a part of him that agreed with the girl’s assessment, though he had an unwavering love for everything Dr. Harding had created. He couldn’t help himself. Creation was a glorious thing, to his mind, whether the creations were successful or not.

“We must get a few hours’ rest,” said Vincent. “The Nubian won’t come this high up, and we’re clear of the Highlands and Tabletop. Let’s all get some water and lie down.”

They moved back into the alcove, quenching their thirst and gathering in a tight group to keep warm. Very soon everyone but Dr. Kincaid and Vincent were asleep. They moved off, out of the alcove, and spoke in whispers.

“Do you think we can get them all through?” asked Vincent.

“I don’t know. It’s not an easy way.”

“Let’s allow them to rest for at least a few hours. They’re going to need their energy.”

“What about you?” asked Dr. Kincaid. “You need rest as well.”

Vincent gazed over the inside of Atherton, shot through with rays of yellow light, and heard the distant screeching of the Nubian.

“You go on, lie down,” said Vincent, concern rising in his voice. “I’ll sleep after I get everyone out of here.”

CHAPTER 23

Night in the Grove

There was a time when darkness in the grove had brought a feeling of calm stillness, when the work of the day was complete and tired but talkative people sat around the soft glow of evening fires. This was a feeling that still lingered unnaturally, even though everyone knew it was untrue. What had been tranquil about the grove was in the past. The true emotion, the deeper one as night came on, was fear.

“How is it you stay so still at times like this?” asked Horace. He had come to rely on Wallace’s serene nature amid the calamity that surrounded them both. The two had been walking slowly and carefully through the largest of the third-year trees, searching for something they weren’t sure they wanted to find. But now they had stopped and sat down to rest, talking quietly. They carried no torch or light of any kind, but the grey hue of early night on Atherton softly covered the grove.

“There are two paths to peace,” said Wallace. He had a stick in his hand and began carving lines into the dirt. “At least there are two that I’m aware of. One is to study the ideas and the ways of peace, to discuss them endlessly, to observe them and dissect them. The other is quite different.”

The way Wallace had described the path sounded to Horace very much like the way any sane person would go about it. It seemed rather obvious that the study of a subject would naturally lead to understanding. That was certainly the way everyone approached things in the Highlands, where books were plentiful and study was common.

“The other path — the path I have taken — has nothing to do with any of that.”

“You make no sense,” said Horace. He was aware that he’d spoken a little louder than he wanted, and looking around he lowered his voice to a whisper. “You can’t just become something without learning what it is you’re trying to become.”

“Can’t you?” asked Wallace. There was an exasperating silence about him as he waited patiently for Horace’s answer.

After a long pause, Horace said, “I’m unable to see the other path.”

“That’s because you’re not on it.”

“Are you trying to confuse me?”

Wallace lifted the stick from the dirt and, without cleaning the end off, began scratching his head with it.

“What if, instead of studying the thing you wanted to learn, you simply started performing the actions? The problem with most people is that they want to study subjects, but they don’t want to get anywhere near the discipline of truly learning.”

Horace thought this was a pretty interesting idea, though it was difficult for him to grasp.

“Tell me what you do that makes you this way,” said Horace. He hadn’t told anyone, not even Wallace, but the pressure of leading the people of Atherton was grinding away at his spirit. He missed his family — had barely seen them in days — and he was beginning to feel that the job was bigger than he was. The thought of a Cleaner hiding in the grove also weighed heavily on his mind.

“I take long walks all alone in the morning and in the evening,” began Wallace. “I look at the world around me. I think of what I want for Atherton — harmony between our peoples, food and water, understanding, patience. I spend a lot of time standing alone in a field surrounded by animals that don’t speak and are apt to wander off and get lost. The solitude sharpens my mind.”

Wallace stopped, but Horace wished he wouldn’t. He found that if Wallace kept talking, it took his mind off troubles of his own. “What else do you do?”

Wallace raised an eyebrow, surprised that Horace really cared about such things. He reasoned that the man must be struggling to keep up the fight, so he went on.

“Sometimes I eat nothing for an entire day, which I admit sounds strange. But you’d be surprised what it does to a person to go without food even for a single day. Unexpected hungers rear their ugly head when basic needs are voluntarily given up. The things that are deep inside come looking for provisions — dark things that also want to be fed.”

“What dark things come out when you don’t eat?” asked Horace.

“Things like anger and deceit, fear and jealousy,” said Wallace. “Although, with the Highlands beneath me now, I’m quite a lot less jealous than I used to be. I didn’t see that coming.”

Horace laughed quietly at Wallace’s words and felt genuine surprise that this passive man before him was capable of feeling jealousy and anger.

“So you’re telling me if I take walks all alone, tend sheep all day, and starve myself, I’ll turn into a peaceful person?”

Wallace shrugged his shoulders. “My thoughts are often much darker than you might imagine when I’m starved for something to eat and standing alone on a hill for hours on end.”

He looked thoughtfully at Horace, and then he spoke the last of what he would teach the man that night.

“You must know your enemies to overcome them. That is the path of peace for every person, and it comes only by doing, not by study of those who are already doing.”

There was a rustling on the path behind them and they were both up in a flash, their backs to each other in the dim light of the grove. Everything was silent once more, and the two men turned and crept slowly toward the sound they’d heard, spears at the ready. All but a very few people had been ordered to huddle together behind ever-widening circular perimeters of men with weapons. At the heart of the inner circle were the children and mothers, the animals and the stores of water.

“This way,” whispered Horace in his quietest voice. He was aware that Gill was scouting the perimeter of the grove on horseback, and the two parties might have unintentionally come close to one another in the dark.

Horace and Wallace crept closer to where the noise had come from, ducking under branches as they went. When the two had gone about ten paces down a hard dirt path between the trees they heard the sound again, only this time they saw what it was. A rabbit darted out from behind a tree and across the path, disappearing on the other side.

The two men breathed a sigh of relief and glanced at each other, then back at the path where the rabbit had crossed. A second rabbit hopped out into the same path, but this one was limping badly and moved slower than the other. It stopped and stood on its two back legs, looking curiously at Horace and Wallace.

“Looks like that one is having a bad night,” said Horace. He leaned down and put a hand out toward the rabbit, and when he did, the Cleaner that lay hidden in the shadows leaped out with stunning force and speed. Its jaws slammed down over the injured rabbit, devouring it all at once.

Wallace remained perfectly still, several feet back from the monster, but Horace was unable to contain his voice in the shock of the moment and let out an almost inaudible bark that carried over Wallace’s head and reached the tiny ears of the Cleaner. It turned ferociously, still grinding its teeth on the rabbit, and both men saw the hunger and wrath in its eyes as it reared up on its many legs, crashing through the limbs of the trees overhead.

The suction cups on the Cleaner’s belly glowed and dripped slime in the grey night of Atherton. Its head came crashing down through the trees on top of Wallace. But Wallace was a smart man, good under pressure and aware of the importance of what he must do. He knelt down, as if in sacrifice, the bottom of his spear firm on the ground and its top well above his head. The Cleaner came down, mouth open and howling, and with incredible force it pounced on the spear and the man underneath it.

This was not an ordinary Cleaner, but the biggest of them all. Its mouth closed around the spear and it reared into the air, then it slammed back down toward the ground and crushed Wallace where he kneeled.

Horace stabbed at the creature’s head as it flailed wildly in every direction, uprooting trees and batting Wallace on the ground as it swung its awful head. Finally, the beast lay on its side, wheezing and chomping at the spear caught in its brain, and then it laid silent and dead. Air and liquid escaped from all twelve feet of it in the wreckage of the grove.

Horace poked at its head to be sure there was no last gasp of life left in it. Then he searched the ground for Wallace and found that he had been batted off the path and lay motionless ten feet away.

He knelt beside Wallace, hearing the sound of approaching hooves through the trees. “Wallace?” he said, still whispering for no reason at all.

Without warning Gill galloped up on his horse and dismounted, standing next to his commander and surveying the scene of destruction. Four trees had been uprooted by the swinging head of the massive Cleaner. Roots were exposed everywhere, and the hulking body of the dead Cleaner covered the ground at the center of it all. Looking back at Horace, he saw that Wallace was not moving.

“You killed it,” said Gill. “I didn’t think that was possible. It was so big.”

He walked closer still and gazed down at the two men, and Wallace opened his eyes.

“You’re alive!” cried Horace, cradling Wallace’s head. “You did it! You killed the beast.”

Wallace’s eyes were barely open. His neck was broken and his head had been dashed against a tree. There was almost no life left in him.

“You must follow your own path,” said Wallace, struggling to breathe and force out the words. “You know the way.”

“We’ll follow it together,” said Horace. He was crying, for he knew his friend was about to die.

Wallace smiled and gazed up into the limbs of the trees.

“Don’t let Maude push you around,” he said, and this made Horace smile.

Wallace’s eyes slowly shut, and as they did he turned his gaze on Horace, mumbling his last. “You must lead the way.”

And then the old shepherd was gone and the grove was bathed, if only for a moment, in the peaceful way of its past.

CHAPTER 24

The Keeper of Atherton

“Edgar!” cried Dr. Harding. “Wake up! We’ve slept too long!”

Edgar leaped to his feet as he’d often done in the grove when Mr. Ratikan woke him unexpectedly with a whack from his walking stick. He had the distinct feeling that all was not right, that a new danger had arrived in the night. Edgar darted to the window and saw that there was only a trace of light coming from above. The floor of the Highlands was covered mostly in shadow, but the dim light revealed a quality to the land before him that Edgar didn’t understand.

“The ground is moving,” said Edgar, glancing back at Dr. Harding, who was struggling to stand up.

“Bring me to the window, won’t you?”

Edgar returned to Dr. Harding’s side and helped him up as best he could. The two hobbled over to the window, where Dr. Harding leaned heavily on the stone sill draped in ivy. He looked down, breathing heavily and knowing his fate.

“We come to the second day, and the darkest hour of my existence.”

“Stop talking like that!” said Edgar. He was tired of feeling the chill of insanity all around him.

Dr. Harding continued to speak in the bizarre, prophetic voice of a creator. “But it’s true, Edgar. It’s true because you will leave and I can’t go with you. I didn’t plan for this parting on the second day, but it comes to pass all the same.” He was dying, there were no two ways about it, and Edgar knew it would be impossible to get him out of the Highlands.

“Why does the ground move?” asked Edgar.

Dr. Harding looked at the boy and then out the window, his breathing growing more steady.

“Water,” he said.

Edgar looked down again and then he understood. The whole floor of the Highlands was covered in gently sloshing waves. The courtyard was gone, hidden beneath the water. There were no jagged shadows from trees or walls or anything else, only a dark glass surface that washed ominously across the world.

Dr. Harding slumped down along the edge of the sill and sobbed into the ivy. Edgar didn’t know what to say and simply put his hand on Dr. Harding’s shoulder. Dr. Harding put his hand on Edgar’s and looked into his eyes.

“You have to leave this place before the water rises and covers the House of Power. When the tallest tower is no longer visible, Atherton will grow fiercer for a time.”

“But I can’t swim,” said Edgar. “I don’t know how.” He was aware of the fact that while he could climb his way out of many dangerous circumstances, water was something he had very little experience with.

He leaned out the window once more. The light of morning was creeping in with the passing of time. The water, it seemed, was rising calmly but fast. Now there were waves but no whitecaps, a rolling sea that looked to Edgar as though it would swallow him up and never let him go.

“The water is rising quickly,” said Edgar, coming back down to crouch next to Dr. Harding. “What should we do?”

With some effort, Dr. Harding pointed toward Mead’s Head. “Go stand over there and do as I say.”

Edgar did as he was told, and Dr. Harding instructed him to grasp the head and turn it one way and then another. It was different from the way it had been turned to open Mead’s Hollow, snapping as it turned twice to the left and three times to the right.

“Now, push the head onto the floor,” said Dr. Harding.

Edgar hesitated, feeling a certain unease about knocking the head off the pedestal.

“Push it off !” shouted Dr. Harding, and Edgar obeyed. Mead’s Head tumbled heavily through the air, crashing at Edgar’s feet and cracking into two halves. Out of the two halves there fell a silver key.

“Take the key,” said Dr. Harding. He coughed and wheezed, lifting his arm once more and pointing to the other side of the room where there sat a wardrobe. The wardrobe had walls of stone and a grave-looking wooden door that appeared as if it hadn’t been opened for a very long time. Now Edgar went to it, inserted the silver key into the lock, and opened the door.

There were only two things inside, neither of which Edgar had seen the likes of before. Or had he? His mind raced back to his second visit to the Highlands and the memory of a young boy pushing a toy between his hands as it had floated back and forth on the water. One of the things inside the wardrobe looked very much like a larger version of the toy Edgar had seen.

“It’s a boat,” said Dr. Harding. “You’d know that, if Dr. Kincaid hadn’t taken you away. You can get inside — it’s small, but it will hold you — and that long stick is a paddle. You can push yourself through the water with it.”

The wooden boat sat on its belly, ready to be boarded. It was indeed very small, unable to hold more than one person. Edgar glanced back and forth between the contents of the wardrobe and Dr. Harding.

“If you wait until the water comes through the window, you can make your escape in the boat. But you’ll need to be swift about it.”

Edgar placed the paddle in the boat and took the vessel by its pointed front end, dragging it out of the wardrobe until it sat in the middle of the room. It was dusty and dry, but very soon it would feel the power of water.

“We could both fit inside,” said Edgar, excited for a moment, but then realizing it would never work. Edgar kept his gaze on Dr. Harding and knew the truth. “You made this for me, didn’t you? You knew it would come to this.”

Dr. Harding smiled weakly. “If only we’d woken at dusk, you could have walked out in water up to your knees. Now you can only hope to paddle to the edge of the Highlands and climb out, for the waves will soon become violent.”

“How violent?” Edgar was suddenly scared of riding on the water, and he darted to the window, hoping to find a calm sea. The water was nearly at the window, only a few feet below. It was coming for him.

“Get in the boat, Edgar,” said Dr. Harding. With great effort he stood, gripping vines of ivy in one hand to stay up. “And don’t be afraid. Just row to the cliffs as fast as you can and get out. When you reach the cliffs, climb like you’ve never climbed before!”

Water spilled into the room, sloshing over the edge of the sill on a silent wave. Edgar ran to the boat and got inside, shaking with fear, and the water began to fill the room. It covered Dr. Harding’s feet and then rose up the lower part of his legs. As water poured through the window, Edgar could detect the boat begin to move under him. He unexpectedly felt a deep desire to embrace Dr. Harding, and he jumped from the boat and careered toward him.

“Edgar, no!” cried Dr. Harding. “Get back in the boat!”

But Edgar didn’t listen. He splashed through the water that came to his waist until he was right next to Dr. Harding, and then he threw his arms around the man. Dr. Harding took his hand from the ivy, and gathering all of his remaining strength, he picked Edgar up as one would carry a child from a raging fire or a coming flood. The two locked eyes, and Edgar’s fear was gone as Dr. Harding carried him back to the boat and set him gently inside.

“I have always loved you, Edgar,” said Dr. Harding. “Take care of this place I’ve made for you.”

Edgar nodded, feeling an odd sense of rightness at the command of his maker. He was transformed in that moment from an orphan of the grove into the keeper of Atherton, and he swelled with pride at the idea of protecting it, nurturing it, and making it whole once again.

The water was at Dr. Harding’s chest as he pushed the boat in front of him toward the window. Edgar took the oar in his hands and saw that it would be close. If the water rose much higher it would fill the window entirely and then he could not get out. He would be trapped in the House of Power, pinned against the ceiling by the oncoming water. As the boat came near the opening, Edgar ducked down low and felt a great push from behind as Dr. Harding gave away the very last energy he had and sent Edgar out into the open water of the Highlands.

Edgar looked back. Dr. Harding held on to the ivy, looking dreamily out toward all that he had made. The water was at his chest now, but he seemed utterly at peace with the coming of the end. No more words were spoken between the two. Edgar could not watch the water overtake Dr. Harding. He turned instead to the sea and began to paddle away.

“Goodbye, Edgar,” whispered Dr. Harding. He smiled and his mind was as clear as it had been before Dr. Kincaid had found him, when he himself was only a boy. The fresh wonder of childhood washed over him. There were no more rooms in his mind, no more numbers, no Atherton. There was only the boy on the horizon, drifting out to sea as the water rose past the window and over the House of Power.

CHAPTER 25

A Storm in the Highlands

Edgar found himself tossed on the waves of a swiftly rising sea that was growing more aggressive as he made his way toward the cliffs. How am I to get out of this boat without being dashed into the rocks? Edgar thought. He felt quite sure that he was paddling directly into a catastrophe that would take his life.

But he kept paddling, remembering the words Dr. Harding had said the night before. You must be free of the Highlands before the water reaches halfway to the top, or the power of the sea will destroy you. When you reach the cliffs, climb like you’ve never climbed before! The water was well below halfway up the side of the cliffs, and already the waves were capped with white, slamming into the rocks and bouncing back toward Edgar on the small boat. It was as if some giant creature were shaking Atherton in its hands.

It was hard work keeping the boat moving out toward the edge. Uprooted trees and debris floated all around Edgar and threatened to careen into the side of the wooden boat. He was rowing with his back to the cliffs, his wounded shoulder burning with every stroke, and he could see that everything that was not connected to the cliffs or the floor of the Highlands was being sucked into the middle, a great jumble of wreckage crashing on the waves. If he were pulled back in it would be the end, and so he rowed feverishly, his wiry arms and legs fueled by a rush of energy to get free of the Highlands. He had to get free!

“Heeeeeeelp!”

Edgar heard the distant voice of Tyler calling from somewhere far off in the waves. He caught sight of him stranded on what looked like the detached side of a wooden house. He was holding on for dear life, careening between objects in the middle of the Highlands. Purely on instinct Edgar turned his vessel and began paddling frantically toward the stranded man. He worked the oar furiously, but as he struggled against the waves two harsh realities began to occur to him: Tyler couldn’t climb out of the Highlands, and the boat was too small to hold them both. It was a futile effort that would end badly for both of them.

It was a terrible moment for a boy to endure — to leave a helpless man to die or try in vain to save him — but Edgar was mercifully spared the decision when the limbs of an uprooted tree crashed into Tyler and he disappeared from sight. The rising sea of Atherton had claimed him.

When Edgar came within a hundred feet of the cliffs he realized that the water was rising even faster than he could have imagined. It was nearing the halfway point, or so he thought by what he could see looking up at what remained of the stone walls surrounding him, and the waves were growing even fiercer. Edgar could feel that he was at the crest between waves that were pulling him inward and forcing him out to the very edge, and it scared him to think what would happen when he reached the rocks.

The waves crashed with a roar as he plunged the paddle into the water and rowed closer still. The waves began to take the little boat and move it quickly forward without warning. The hundred feet to the cliffs was cut to fifty and then ten as the boat was carried on the rising water with stunning speed.

Edgar stood on the boat, holding the edges with his hands as it swayed and spun in circles, and then he jumped into the air and hoped against all hope that he would find something to grab onto, that his head wouldn’t be bashed against the rocks. He hit the cliff hard and began to slide, reaching wildly for anything he could hold. The boat was dashed against the rocks, pulled back on the waves, then smashed into pieces at Edgar’s side.

He had found a slippery hold with one hand and without thinking of anything at all he had begun climbing. Like a spider he outpaced the rising water that slammed into the walls beneath him. He never looked down, only up, and he did just as Dr. Harding had told him. He climbed faster than he’d ever climbed before, losing and regaining his grip over and over again on the wet and muddy path upward. More than once his feet dangled free from slimy clumps of earth breaking off Atherton, but always he was able to regain control and keep moving higher.

Edgar had no idea how long he’d been climbing when his arms and legs and lungs started to burn so terribly from the effort that he had no choice but to slow down. It was then that he realized he’d overcome the storm in the Highlands. It was still raging beneath him, but it was not rising as it had been. It was, in fact, receding! The water had come to the halfway point and now it was moving down again, the waves every bit as violent as they had been before.

Edgar didn’t take this monumental bit of good luck lightly and was soon off again at full speed. He climbed higher and higher along the slippery cliffs, feeling a sense of deep exhilaration as he went. There was a part of him that believed it was the last time he would climb like this, and he made the most of it. He and Atherton were one, both made by the one man, and he felt mysteriously linked to Atherton as he never had before.

When, finally, he came within minutes of his escape to the very top, he heard the waves below increase in intensity and looked down for the second time. The water was rising again, faster and with more force, and the very walls he hung on to shook in his hands. Dr. Harding had been right. If Edgar had been in the water and faced waves like the ones he saw now, he would not have lived.

Edgar scrambled the rest of the way out and tumbled over the edge into Tabletop, where something occurred to him that he hadn’t thought of before. How far is that water going to rise?

Edgar leaned over the edge and had the harrowing thought that the waves might crest the Highlands and overtake Tabletop, the grove, everything. It would have been helpful if he’d stayed awake to hear what Dr. Harding had said about the water, but it was only a dreamy twinkle lodged deep in his mind and he could not get it out.

Edgar turned in the direction of the grove. He had come into Tabletop a good distance from his former home, and though he could see the trees it would take awhile to get there. He began walking, then running toward the grove, hoping to find people — rather than Cleaners — there.

In the distance he saw a horse and rider approaching, and soon the horse came near enough that Edgar could see the rider was someone he didn’t know.

“Where have you come from?” asked Gill, surprised to see the wet and weary boy out in the open.

“There,” said Edgar, pointing into the giant hole behind him that led into the Highlands. The sound of breaking waves far below could be heard. It was a haunting sound of echoes and booms, and Edgar could tell that Gill wondered what it was as he sniffed the air and looked toward the noise from the Highlands.

“You should go to the edge and look down. It won’t take long on that thing,” Edgar pointed to the horse.

“Who are you?” asked Gill, enormous curiosity in his voice.

“I’m Edgar.”

Gill was aware of the boy from the stories that permeated the grove, stories of a young boy who had climbed to every level of Atherton and then mysteriously disappeared.

“Everyone thinks you’re dead,” said Gill, excited at having found the missing boy. He reached his arm down and motioned for Edgar to take it, but Edgar was unsure.

“It’s easy, honestly,” said Gill, still holding out his hand. “We’ll go to the edge and have a look, then we can ride back to the grove.”

Edgar reached his arm up tentatively — the one with the missing pinky — and Gill snatched it, hauling the thin boy up into the air and onto the back of the horse.

“Hold on!” said Gill. He kicked the horse and they were off. Edgar was not prepared for the speed at which the horse could gallop and it took his breath away. He laughed out loud involuntarily despite all of the misery around him. He simply could not help himself. This, he thought in disbelief, is almost as exhilarating as climbing!

When they came to the edge the ground was shaking at their feet, and Gill gasped at the sight of crashing waves. The storm in the Highlands had the effect of drawing the blood from one’s face, so stunning was the sight of raging water on the rise.

“How high will it come?” asked Gill, as if he expected Edgar to know.

“I’m not sure, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon. It rises and falls, but mostly it seems to be rising.”

Gill took one last look at the gargantuan hole filled with waves and thought for a brief moment about the house he had lived in, now covered and smashed by the deluge below. Everything the Highlands had been was gone, churned into rubble by the power of water. Could it really be so?

He kicked the horse and the two were off, speeding across open land, heading for the grove with news of a flooding world.

CHAPTER 26

The Nubian

While Edgar and Gill raced toward the grove, a different group of weary travelers were quietly moving somewhere far beneath Tabletop. They had begun their journey at about the same time Edgar started his escape from the Highlands, working their way down the side of a rock mountain bathed in golden radiance. As they descended to the valley floor, yellow and orange beams of light cut through the darkness. The rising mountains twisted into unscalable precipices on every side.

The call of the Nubian pierced Samuel’s ears. He sensed the flying creatures were near, waiting to attack. It felt as if he were trapped in a place of desolation that could not be overcome.

“How far do you think we have to go?” whispered Samuel. He and Isabel were walking side by side between the adults, using their spears as walking sticks as they came very near the bottom.

“I think it will be a while,” Isabel answered. “How big do you think the Nubian are?”

Samuel held out his spear, examining it. He had read about the birds in books but had always assumed they were fantasy creatures invented by storytellers. “I wonder if their wings are wider than this spear.”

“That they are,” said Dr. Kincaid, bending down in order to whisper to the two children. “The Nubian is a marvelous creature, and highly necessary to the inner workings of Atherton. Without them — well, to be fair, without a lot of strange things down here — Atherton wouldn’t work at all.” He paused a moment, then added, “You know he hated birds and bugs.”

“Who did?” asked Isabel.

“Dr. Harding. I think he feared them more than he hated them, but he needed them, so he put them down here where they couldn’t get out. The Nubian move things around, sort of like when you move water through a grove of trees so that they can drink.”

“Could they kill a Cleaner?” Samuel imagined a giant winged animal descending on the beasts outside. Dr. Harding seemed not to know what to make of the question. He pulled on his ear and looked off toward the sound of the Nubian.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Dr. Kincaid. “They can never leave the inside. It would be the end of Atherton.”

“Why?” asked Isabel. “Why couldn’t we let them go?”

“Because they’d kill a lot more than just Cleaners,” said Vincent, who had stopped and heard Isabel’s question. They had reached the valley floor within the inside of Atherton. Rock formations of red and yellow towered all around them, layered back like endless, rolling mountains. As in the cavern, sharp spires of stone pointed angrily down from the black ceiling far above, and everywhere the shadows of the Nubian were crossing like dark water through beams of light.

“At least the Cleaners are stupid,” continued Vincent, who had turned to look at everyone. With his crossbow in hand and broken nose he had the appearance of a warrior long at battle, unsure when he would return home. “And they were contained. The Cleaners weren’t supposed to leave the Flatlands.”

“That’s not what Dr. Harding said.” Dr. Kincaid was forever trying to defend the mad scientist.

Vincent sighed and shook his head, then returned to the matter at hand.

“If the Nubian were to leave the inside of Atherton that would make them” — Vincent searched for the right word — “uncontained.” A vague sort of concern rose in his voice. “They could fly anywhere they chose, and eat whatever they found.”

“How big are they?” asked Isabel, hearing the screeching move even nearer.

Vincent glanced up into shafts of light and shadow. “You’re about to see for yourselves.”

He told everyone to move back against the rocks where there were crevices in which to hide. It was possible to squeeze into the larger cracks, and they all began working toward this end.

“All but you, Isabel,” said Vincent. She was startled to have been singled out at such a dangerous moment. “We need to show them they should stay away, and I understand you’re even better than Edgar with a sling.”

Isabel couldn’t help smiling as she felt in her pockets for the sling and the black figs.

“Save the figs and use the rocks,” said Vincent. “Aim for the first one you see. One shot, then come back into the rocks. Understood?”

Isabel nodded, searching the ground before her and finding a heavy stone the size of her fist. She set the stone in place and waited, watching the harrowing shadows of the Nubian above.

“How many are there?” asked Isabel. Everyone else had moved into the jagged rock openings.

“Only about fifty,” said Vincent. He could tell that she expected all fifty to descend on them at any moment. “But the inside of Atherton is big and they’re extremely territorial. They usually travel in pairs, so I suspect there will be two. You aim for the first, I’ll aim for the second. Remember, one shot, no more.”

It had been silent for a moment, but now the valley floor was alive with the sound of shrieking and the first of the Nubian dived for the ground. Isabel was instinctive with her sling in the same way that Edgar was when he climbed. She did not think. If she had, she would have run. Instead, the sling was spiraling around her head, fast and perfect, and then there was the familiar snap! The heavy rock was gone.

The Nubian came into full view, turning gracefully to the side as the stone flew past. The creature had gigantic, powerful wings with scaly feathers that intertwined in a pattern of murky blue and bloodred. It moved as nothing Isabel had ever seen, fluid and smooth. She’d hit a man on a horse, but this was something entirely different.

“Get back into the rocks!” screamed Vincent, but Isabel was glued to the ground, mesmerized by the Nubian’s shrieking descent. The flying beast, she saw, had a jet-black beak like a long spike that she could easily imagine ripping into her. Isabel’s brain went cold. She could think of nothing but to hide, and so she ran away as fast as her legs would carry her down the path that led through the valley floor.

“Isabel!” cried Samuel. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her stabbed and carried off by a giant flying creature with a monstrous black beak. Running into the open behind Vincent, he began waving his arms and yelling into the sky. “Leave her alone, you terrible beast!”

Samuel’s father leaped out from the crack in the rocks and grabbed Samuel by the arm, dragging him back to safety. Samuel struggled and yelled, but Sir William refused to let him go.

A second Nubian came in behind the first, and both creatures dived toward the group. The first swooped low and fast behind Isabel, lowering its great claws as if to snatch her from the ground. Vincent fired the crossbow when the Nubian passed over. The arrow jammed into a wing and the Nubian howled in pain, flapping up and away unsteadily from the valley floor.

The second of the two Nubian was not deterred. It closed its wings entirely and flew like an arrow for the ground while Vincent bent down on one knee, trying desperately to reload. His hands fumbled with the arrow as the Nubian spread its wings and turned sharply, aiming straight for Vincent with its pointed black beak. Vincent looked up and knew without a doubt that he was finished. He wouldn’t get the arrow loaded in time and the Nubian would overtake him.

But then he heard a sound he hadn’t expected. It was the snap! of Isabel’s sling, and this time she had used a fig as black as the Nubian’s pointed beak. Unlike the stone she’d thrown before, the black fig flew fast and true, so fast that the Nubian could not react in time. The beast glanced sideways and was struck firmly in the neck. Screeching with rage, it darted up along the rocks, through a giant crevice, and out of sight.

Sir William let Samuel go and the boy darted out into the open. He stood before Isabel with some embarrassment for having tried to rescue her, only to be dragged back to safety by his father.

“Thank you for trying that,” she said, surprised by how much it had meant to her.

Samuel nodded. “We need to find Edgar together, and we can’t do it if you’re dead.”

The two smiled as Dr. Kincaid emerged from the rocks, staring at the whole lot of them with admiration.

“We may overcome this strange world yet,” he said, smiling at the sound of the two Nubian trailing off. “The inside of Atherton is vast. Those two are the only ones we’re likely to see for a while, and I don’t think they’ll be back.”

Vincent nodded and winked at Isabel, and she winked right back at him.

“There’s really only one thing the Nubian won’t attack,” Dr. Kincaid went on, still smiling in a jovial sort of way. “They won’t even go near it.”

And then Dr. Kincaid’s cheerful moment came to an end, because he remembered they would all have to overcome the very thing of which he spoke. He’d done it before, but never with so many, and never with children.

“The Inferno,” said Vincent.

Dr. Kincaid nodded, then deflected all of the questioning eyes with a wave of his arm.

“Vincent will get us through,” he said. But there was a part of him that was sure they wouldn’t all make it past the Inferno, and there was no other way to escape the inside of Atherton.

CHAPTER 27

Across the Valley Floor

“Is it day or night on Atherton?”

Isabel had been quiet for a while as they trudged along the valley floor. The shafts of light had grown dimmer, and it made her wonder why the light had changed.

“If I had to guess,” said Dr. Kincaid, putting a hand on the young girl’s shoulder, “I’d have to say it was morning on Atherton. But then I haven’t been down here in a while, so I could be wrong. The way we’re going is a darker way, so I’m not entirely sure it matters what time it is upstairs.”

Despite all of their hardships, Isabel was amused by the thought of the outside as being upstairs.

“I wonder where my parents and Edgar are,” she thought out loud.

Dr. Kincaid was naturally given to the qualities of a grandfather, and he tried to comfort Isabel.

“Dr. Harding can be very determined when he wants to be. I’m sure he found Edgar and managed to rid the world of Sir Emerik. And I have no doubt our climbing boy is already free of the Highlands.”

Isabel laughed softly and Samuel slowed to join the two on the path. He was curious to know what they were talking about, but he was also looking for something to take his mind off the grim path they were traveling.

“And as for your parents,” continued Dr. Kincaid, “I wouldn’t worry too much about them. Changes are afoot! I believe you’ll see them again soon.”

Dr. Kincaid found that with Samuel on one side and Isabel on the other, guiding them through the shadows of the valley, he felt almost as if he were a grandfather to them both.

“I think the future of Atherton is in good hands,” he said. “You two will do just fine.”

Samuel seized the moment to ask Dr. Kincaid one of the many questions that had been brewing in his mind during the journey.

“Why did you take Edgar away from Dr. Harding?”

Dr. Kincaid looked straight ahead, and without much hesitation, he answered the boy so that everyone could hear. “He was more like Lord Phineus than Dr. Harding toward the end. Does that answer your question?”

Samuel nodded, feeling a little guilty for having asked at all. But then Isabel asked just as difficult a question, and it made him feel better.

“Why did you work Dr. Harding so awfully hard? You must have known he was sick.”

Dr. Kincaid looked at the children on either side of him with some surprise. “You two don’t give an old man much benefit of the doubt, do you?”

Samuel and Isabel weren’t even sure exactly what this meant, but they had a pretty good idea that Dr. Kincaid didn’t enjoy any questions about his past.

Dr. Kincaid sighed deeply. “Are we close?” he asked Vincent. The sound of the Nubian cut through the air from a long way off, and Vincent looked up into the rocks.

Vincent said, “Not far to go, but plenty enough for you to answer the girl’s question.”

Dr. Kincaid scowled at Vincent, then looked back at Isabel and saw that he hadn’t distracted her one bit. The girl wanted an answer, and he would have to provide one.

“If you must know, it was mostly out of my control. I told them time and time again not to push so hard. There is nothing so fragile as a brilliant young mind. It’s a delicate thing, easily traumatized by demands it cannot achieve. But then, I have to admit, even I was too demanding of him. Not at first — at first I was always the one to make them leave him alone — but after a while, well, as a man of science, I couldn’t help it. He knew so many things I didn’t, and I wanted desperately to understand.”

Silence fell over the group and the Nubian screeched again, closer but still far off.

“He wanted to please everyone,” said Dr. Kincaid. “But when it was all over, he pleased no one. There’s a lesson in that, don’t you think?”

Isabel and Samuel nodded, and then Samuel remarked, “The Dark Planet must be in terrible shape if Atherton was so important to them.”

“You have no idea,” said Dr. Kincaid. “And yet, they have always found a way to survive. It would not surprise me if they’ve already cooked up some other way of making do. It’s a dirty place and getting dirtier, but who are we to say they can’t solve their own problems? We’ve certainly got enough of our own.”

He was about to tell them other ideas that had been in the works to save the planet of his origin, but he was cut off by Vincent. They were now approaching the Inferno.

They had come to a place where tunnels led off in many directions and red stone reached into the sky all around them. They were trapped but for the tunnels as a way out, and all the tunnels were dark.

“You must each listen carefully,” started Vincent. “And know before we begin that this is a hard way that cannot be avoided.”

As he spoke, a small, fluorescent light that looked like a dancing blue dot in the air crept noiselessly out from between two rocks. It hovered silently behind Vincent in such a way that he could not see it, but the others could, even though it was no bigger than the tip of a spear.

The dot came around to the side of Vincent closest to Isabel, and she reached out toward it, drawn by the pulsing blue light. Vincent glanced behind and saw what Isabel was after.

“Don’t touch it!” he cried. She was the most curious among them, and he should have known to warn her sooner. But Isabel had already extended her arm and the blue dot moved toward her, as if it wanted to be caught.

The glowing light was a bug that was part of the Inferno, and Isabel could hear its microscopic wings beating ever so softly as she touched it. The result was not what she’d expected. Her hand felt a shock of electricity that then flowed down her arm all the way into her toes. It seemed to paralyze her momentarily, and she could not move her muscles to flick the glowing blue bug away from her skin. She was being electrocuted, though not enough to kill her.

Vincent carefully swished the bug away with his sleeve. It hung in the air once more, turning from blue to green to red. Then Vincent blew softly and the bug bounced on the air back into the dark opening from where it came.

“They turn red when they’re angry,” said Vincent.

“What was that thing?” howled Isabel. From her shoulder all the way to the tips of her fingers there was a painful tingling that made her itch frantically. She shook her hand but it was no use.

“Hold your hand over your head,” said Dr. Kincaid. “It will go away in a few seconds.”

Isabel held her arm up and tried not to scratch. She’d never felt anything so powerful. It was like her arm had fallen asleep and woken up all at once, little needles poking up and down her skin.

Sir William came over, held her arm up, and looked at Vincent. “Why did you bring us this way?” he asked with dismay. Things were getting more perilous by the moment — first the Nubian, and now this new threat. He truly wondered if he could trust the men in which he’d placed so much hope. How well did he really know them?

“Because it’s the only way out,” said Vincent. “If there were any other options, believe me, we wouldn’t be going in there.” He pointed into the Inferno.

“You should have told us it would be like this,” said Sir William. “It wasn’t fair to drag us down here without telling us how dangerous it would be.”

“Would you have come with us if we’d told you?” asked Dr. Kincaid.

Sir William didn’t answer and Dr. Kincaid went on.

“The Highlands were already filling with water, crashing into the middle of Atherton. This was the only way. If we’d said you’d have to do battle with flying beasts and tiny winged zappers, would you have come? Of course not!”

Sir William seemed, for the moment, to concede. “I have to get them back home,” said Sir William, glancing down at Isabel and Samuel. “Just be honest with us.”

Dr. Kincaid faltered a moment. Sensing there was no other option he decided it was, indeed, time for honesty in all matters. “Things are going to get worse before they get better,” he said.

“What do you mean, worse?” asked Samuel. “How could they get any worse?”

“The Inferno is . . . w-w-well, it’s complicated,” stammered Dr. Kincaid. “But I’ve done it many times before, and I’m old! If I can make it, so can you.”

“There are things in the Inferno that you’ll want to lay a hand on,” Vincent told them, thinking about the task ahead more carefully. The fire bugs were mesmerizing, he knew; they wanted to be touched. It was hard not to obey. “But all of them are dangerous, and most of them can kill you.”

Vincent looked at Dr. Kincaid as if to say, This is your department, don’t you think?

The sound of the Nubian grew nearer and angrier, and Samuel imagined the one injured by the arrow now looking for revenge.

“How’s your arm feeling, Isabel?” asked Dr. Kincaid. Sir William let go of her hand and she shook her arm hard, scratching at her elbow.

“It’s better,” she said. “It still itches, but the pain is gone.”

“Wonderful!” said Dr. Kincaid. “Now listen, all of you. Vincent is absolutely right. There’s no point in explaining every little thing to you, but nothing that’s in there is meant for humans to go near. Unfortunately, it’s also the only way out from beneath Tabletop. Where we’re about to go is under the Flatlands, and once we get past the Inferno, the rest of our way is easy.” Dr. Kincaid marveled in his own mind at the outrageous imagination of Dr. Harding. The way down from Tabletop had been erased by the changing world, and yet the way across — the way into the Flatlands — was still there.

“The Nubian are circling,” said Vincent. The group looked up and saw familiar, eerie shadows moving high on the red rocks above.

“There’s time for just a little instruction,” said Dr. Kincaid. “For one thing, we don’t have to be quiet. Nothing inside there can hear us so it won’t matter if you want to talk as we go. There will be a lot of fire bugs — more than you can imagine — but if you go slowly and blow on them, you’ll be able to avoid them. Don’t let them touch your skin. Your hair should be all right.”

He looked at everyone, and seeing that all but Vincent had a healthy head of thick hair, he nodded.

“Cover up as much as you can, but remain watchful. There is another creature inside that eats the fire bugs.”

“What sort of creature? How big is it?” asked Samuel. He had already wanted to turn back at the thought of being electrocuted by thousands of tiny glowing bugs. What could possibly want to eat them?

The shadows of the Nubian came lower on the wall and their screeching filled the air.

“Follow Vincent,” said Dr. Kincaid. “He’ll try to clear the way. We have to go!”

The Nubian were diving together, one after the other, as Vincent crept into the Inferno. Dr. Kincaid followed, then came the children, and finally Sir William. The moment the five of them were inside the dark opening, the Nubian turned back, shrieking with anger.

“We come now to the last of our difficult passage,” Dr. Kincaid mumbled. And then, wanting to make sure everyone understood the seriousness of the situation, he said one more thing. “I’m sorry to say we saved the most dangerous part for the end.”

CHAPTER 28

Flight from the Grove

While Edgar sat with Maude and Horace on the steps of Mr. Ratikan’s house, the ground rumbled oddly at their feet, accompanied by the eerie sound of water rising in a storm over the Highlands — a new threat they didn’t have the first idea how to manage.

Horace, Maude, and Isabel’s father, Charles, had welcomed Edgar, but there was precious little time and so the questions had begun almost immediately. As he sat on the steps he had once approached every day for food, Edgar hurriedly explained about Dr. Harding and Dr. Kincaid, about Vincent and Sir William, and of course, Samuel and Isabel.

“They’ve gone underground, into a secret place that’s safe from the rising water,” said Edgar. He couldn’t imagine how they’d ever escape Dr. Harding’s laboratory, but he also wanted to provide a little hope. “The two from the Flatlands — Dr. Kincaid and Vincent — they knew where they were going. There must be a passage out.”

“At least they’re safe from the Cleaners down there,” said Maude. Charles nodded earnestly, but in truth, though no one was willing to say it, survival inside the violent heart of Atherton seemed impossible.

As Charles hurried off toward the village to tell Isabel’s mother what he’d learned, Horace began questioning Edgar again. “How high will the water come?”

“Dr. Harding said it would rise all the way to the top.”

“Will it reach higher than the edge of the Highlands?” asked Maude, grave concern in her voice.

Edgar hesitated. It was a point that Dr. Harding had come to as Edgar lay half asleep, a fact he was embarrassed to reveal.

“He said everyone must leave for the Flatlands,” said Edgar, rubbing the pain out of his shoulder. “He wouldn’t tell me why. But you should know he was a little crazy. He’d been bitten by this terrible animal, and his mind wasn’t quite right to begin with. I’m not sure he could be trusted in the end.”

Edgar hated saying these things, but the truth was he really couldn’t be sure Dr. Harding had been altogether sane. Edgar remembered that they should go to the Flatlands, but why? There was nothing out there but Cleaners. No food, no water, just barren, open land where an exodus of humanity would make for easy prey.

“I have thought of the Flatlands as well,” said Horace. “I can’t say exactly why, but it has felt to me as if Atherton itself were calling us to go to there.”

Horace had a new resolve, his plans bolstered by the news from Edgar. Maude wasn’t so sure.

“It’s open space out there,” she said. “And there’s nothing. No water, no food. It’s desolate. At least here, in the grove, we have trees to protect us and we can set our backs against the cliffs leading down to the Highlands. The Cleaners can’t come up from behind us there. What possible reason could there be to venture out into the wide open nothingness of the Flatlands?”

She had made a great many indisputable points. And yet, Horace was unmoved. “If there is an ounce of truth in what this man has told Edgar, then we have no choice but to go. This man, Dr. Harding, made Atherton.”

“And then he lost his mind,” said Maude, anger rising in her voice. “Don’t forget we knew him as Lord Phineus, who would love nothing more than to send us to our death and laugh all the way to his grave.”

“We can’t stay here,” said Horace. “It was never the plan, you know that.”

Maude looked away toward the grove, aware that the situation was hopeless.

“Why can’t we stay?” asked Edgar. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe we could manage it.”

Horace didn’t feel he had the time or the patience to explain, but he felt he somehow owed it to Edgar. “The Cleaners are coming,” he began. “We have scouts on horses, and I tell you it’s only a matter of time. They went first to the two villages, but when they’ve finished destroying those places, it’s here they will come. From both sides they’ll attack the grove until nothing remains. The grove will draw them in, but we must be gone when they get here.”

“Why did you do this?” asked Edgar. “I don’t understand your plan and where it leads.”

“He had a hunch,” said Maude in a critical tone.

“A hunch that Wallace agreed with,” said Horace, hesitating before continuing. He wished that Maude would be more agreeable.

But then he heard the sound of hooves tearing through the grove. Gill rode up hard and fast through the trees. The horse nearly collapsed from lack of water and food as Gill dismounted and bolted for the steps to Mr. Ratikan’s house.

“They’re on the move,” said Gill. “All of them, from both sides. All of the Cleaners are coming!”

“How many?” asked Maude, standing as though she were ready to fight.

Gill looked at Edgar and wondered if he should answer with a young boy within earshot.

“I’ve eaten Cleaners for breakfast,” said Edgar, sensing the man’s concern. “There’s nothing you can say that will surprise me.”

Gill looked out into the grove and pointed in the direction of the Village of Rabbits. “Five hundred from there.” Then he pointed toward the Village of Sheep. “Five hundred more.”

A thousand Cleaners heading for the grove — one for every man, woman, and child of Atherton. It was an insurmountable number.

Horace looked in a different direction through the clearing, toward the barren path that led to the Flatlands. “Something awaits us there,” he said. “I feel it. And Wallace felt it, too.”

The mood in the grove was one of grumbling and dissent as Horace, Maude, and Edgar approached. There had been precious little food and water to give out and provisions were running lower by the hour. Soon there would be nothing, only the approaching Cleaners and an army too tired and hungry to fight. Many from the village had witnessed the water rising in the Highlands and had returned with something well past fear in their eyes. Everyone who stood before Horace looked dazed, as though finally the world had crushed their spirits entirely.

The time had come for Horace to set what remained of his plan into motion, and he stood before hundreds of people speaking in the loudest and most authoritative voice he could muster.

“We must leave this place,” he shouted. “Together, as one people, we have overcome a maddening world that threatens to destroy us.”

No one made an attempt to disagree. Horace found the eyes of his wife and child, huddling close together in the middle of the crowd, and his heart nearly broke. He wished this duty could fall to another, that he could go and comfort them. And yet his wife smiled up at him, nodded encouragement and understanding, and he was able to accept his circumstances for what they were. He alone could lead them.

“I have tried to show you the way at a time when no clear path revealed itself,” continued Horace, his words a solemn reminder of a lost friend. “The water comes to flood us from behind. The Cleaners come from the sides to devour us. There is but one path that remains, though it may seem the least agreeable of them all.”

Horace looked away from the group and toward the Flatlands, which no one could see. “We must leave for the Flatlands. No other hope remains.”

There was a ripple of shocked exclamations from the group as they realized they would have to leave the safety of the grove. The trees had felt so protective, shielding them from having to look outside at the failing world around them. It had almost seemed peaceful, as if it had all been a bad dream.

The voices of dissent began, but they were stopped by the sound of one boy, a boy who had spent most of his life in the grove.

“He’s right,” Edgar spoke up with confidence. The boy who’d climbed to every part of Atherton had taken on a sort of mythical status among the living. Everyone quieted.

“I’ve spoken to the one who made this place,” said Edgar, his voice booming louder than he thought possible. Everyone gasped at once, trying to grasp what this meant. “And he told me we would find peace in the Flatlands.”

A wave of mumbling came over the crowd and the children began to shout that Edgar was right. Soon the children’s voices were louder than the swell of skepticism behind them. They wanted to go, to follow the person who they deemed their commander.

The grove would have to be abandoned, along with everything else, and they would have to face whatever awaited them in the unknown world of the Flatlands.

CHAPTER 29

The Inferno

Sir William had been feeling a growing unease as he and the others made their way through the inside of Atherton. There was a part of him that wanted to take Samuel and Isabel and leave these two men he’d never met before. It seemed to him with each passing step that he and the two children were being led deeper into disaster.

He stood in the dark opening to the Inferno and looked back where the Nubian had been, listening as they trailed off. “Wait a minute,” he said, peering into the darkness where he could barely discern the outline of the two men. He held Samuel and Isabel on either side, one under each arm. “I’m responsible for these two, even if you aren’t.”

“There’s no place for you out there,” Vincent called, gesturing with his chin. “Only death awaits if you take them out of the Inferno. Even if you get past the Nubian on your own, then where will you go? This place was not meant for humans, and that way” — he pointed forcefully to the outside — “leads only to the laboratory. In case you’ve forgotten, the laboratory is in the Highlands, which is under water.”

Sir William took his hand off Isabel’s shoulder, scratching the beard that had grown fallow beneath his chin.

“It’s the only way,” said Samuel, looking up at his father. “I know you feel bad for leaving me — for leaving Mother — but there was nothing you could do. No one blames you, least of all me, and Vincent knows the way. We have to learn to trust him.”

At that moment Sir William realized just how deep his guilt for being trapped in Mead’s Hollow had weighed on him. Until then he hadn’t really seen the connection between his protectiveness of the children and his guilt for having left his own son fatherless for so long.

“You’re right, Samuel. I do feel terrible I haven’t been there to protect you. But you’re also right that there was nothing I could do about it.” He looked up at Vincent and Dr. Kincaid who stood impatiently waiting. “But I still don’t know how to trust either of you. This way you’re taking us better not be some sort of trap.”

Dr. Kincaid spoke before Vincent had the chance to. “Vincent has one duty, to protect the four of us at all cost. If anyone comes to great harm it will be him, of that you can be assured.”

Sir William remained unsure, but he resigned himself to the path he would have to take.

“Let’s not assume my demise already,” said Vincent. “I’ve made it through here with an old man in tow several times before. I believe we’ll be fine, if you’ll only listen and pay attention.”

There were tentative nods from everyone as Vincent turned and disappeared into the darkness. “It’s a small space, so use the walls to guide you and follow my voice,” he called out loudly and with great authority. “There’s only one way to go for a while. The first thing you’re going to see are more fire bugs. You’ll want to touch them because the way they drift and sway makes them look so drunk with happiness, so harmless. Don’t give in — don’t touch — but also, don’t turn away. If you take your eyes off them you’re likely to feel a shock you won’t like.”

Isabel breathed in shallow fits and starts because she knew what it would feel like if one of the fire bugs touched her. Though she wasn’t crying, by the sounds she was making in the dark it seemed to Samuel that she was nearly hysterical.

“Stay right next to me,” he said, holding her hand. She gripped his fingers so tightly it began to hurt, but he didn’t say anything. The two followed Vincent’s voice through the dark.

“Here’s one now,” he said, and sure enough, out of the dark came a tiny glowing blue light, swaying softly in the air. It seemed not to be aware of them as it came very near Vincent’s face. The small creature created enough light that everyone could see Vincent’s eyes and nose and lips. “You can be touched three times by a fire bug in an hour. Any more contact than that and your body will start to shut down.”

“How do you know that?” asked Isabel, realizing that this meant she could only be electrocuted twice more and she might have to be carried out of the Inferno — or maybe even die.

“Because I touched three of them on my first journey through here,” said Vincent. “And it took me an entire day to recover. I felt then as I do now that if I’d touched another, it might have killed me.”

Vincent blew softly into the air and the fire bug drifted off.

“You don’t have to blow very hard to make them change course,” said Vincent, moving again. “Just be careful you don’t blow one into someone standing next to you.”

“I wish I hadn’t touched one,” said Isabel. If Vincent could have seen her thick dark brows set low over her eyes he would have known just how upset she was with herself.

“You’re the curious type, but maybe that’s a mixed blessing. My guess is you’re going to be very careful, aren’t you, Isabel?”

Isabel had to admit to herself in the silence of her own fuming that Vincent was right. There was nothing that could make her voluntarily touch a fire bug ever again.

They walked on and soon blue fire bugs became more frequent, until somewhere along their journey they realized that they were no longer touching the walls for guidance. The light from the fire bugs was enough to illuminate the walls, the floor, the low ceiling. They were in what felt like an underground tube about the width of Vincent’s outstretched arms. The ceiling was taller than the tallest among them — that being Sir William, at six feet — and the space had an unfamiliar feeling of being warm in a place that seemed as if it should be cold.

“Why is it warm in here?” asked Samuel. Isabel had let go of his hand and was now blowing fire bugs to the side. They were everywhere, hundreds of them swinging slowly back and forth in the darkness.

“We’re getting closer,” said Vincent. “It will get even warmer.” He blew fire bugs to the left and to the right, clearing a path for the rest as best he could.

“Get used to moving the fire bugs aside,” he said. “Soon there will be thousands in the air all around you. It’s only your skin you need to worry about, so stay covered up but for your face.”

Isabel let her hair fall down in front of her eyes so that only her nose stuck out from her hair.

The bugs grew thicker and the way was bathed in fluorescent blue light. Samuel smiled at Isabel and she gasped at how white his teeth and eyes were. “You look weird,” she said.

“So do you,” said Samuel. If it weren’t for Isabel’s nose, he might have thought he was looking at the back of her head.

“You’re going to want to touch the Rivers of Fire,” said Vincent. “Don’t touch them.”

Samuel turned more quickly than he should have, and when he did there was a fire bug directly in his path. It landed on his cheek and the electricity shot through his face, down his neck, through his chest, and down his legs. He could not move and felt as if his insides were being torn apart until Isabel, cool-headed in the moment, took a section of her long hair and batted the fire bug away.

“Ohhhhhhh! That itches SO badly!” he howled. Isabel continued to blow a wide path of bugs away from Samuel as he jumped up and down, itching furiously. It looked like he might scratch right though his skin as Sir William held him steady and tried to calm him. A full minute passed before Samuel seemed to be able to continue on.

“Only four more fire bugs can land on the two of us,” said Isabel. Secretly, she felt a little better that she was no longer the only one who had been touched.

“Like I said,” said Vincent, seeing that the excitement had died down, “you’re going to want to touch the Rivers of Fire you’re about to see. Don’t.”

Everyone seemed to catch their breath at the same time as they rounded a jagged corner. Trails of an orange substance ran leisurely along the floor of the tunnel. They were the width of a child’s outstretched hand, and they moved like they were made of something a thousand times thicker than water.

“It’s something very much like molten glass,” said Dr. Kincaid. “If you touch it, it will set your finger on fire.”

He looked back at Sir William, who wore a robe dangling to the floor. Everyone else wore trousers and long shirts, but the robe would be a problem. “Do you have anything on under that?” asked Dr. Kincaid. “You’re going to drag it into the Rivers of Fire and set yourself aflame.”

Sir William was nervous about disrobing, not so much because he didn’t have very much on underneath but because it would expose him to the fire bugs. Still, he saw the folly of walking along a path cut through with streams of molten glass — whatever that was — and so he took the robe off. Beneath it he wore a shirt with no sleeves, boots, and something that looked like a towel wrapped around his waist. He was about to toss the robe behind him when Dr. Kincaid suggested otherwise.

“You’ll never make it past the bugs like that,” he said, and he was right. As they stood, dozens of fire bugs sat on everyone’s clothing or hair. Sir William would never make it without the robe.

“Hike up the bottom and hold on tight,” said Dr. Kincaid. “You must now watch the floor as well as the air. Don’t step in the Rivers of Fire.”

The three who had never been through the Inferno now became fully aware of an odd, new sound that repeated all around them: fffffzzzzzziiiip! fffffzzzzzziiiip! fffffzzzzzziiiip! Samuel and Isabel asked what it was.

“Watch the floor,” said Vincent. “And you’ll see.”

They watched as fire bugs dropped into the orange liquid and the fffffzzzzzziiiip! sound burst into the air. The Rivers of Fire were alive with electricity and heat, fed by the falling bugs.

“Follow my lead,” Vincent said. “The fire bugs will thin out some, but don’t take this as a sign that we should let down our guard. There are fewer fire bugs for a reason.” He didn’t know how else to prepare them for what would come next without scaring them. He walked on, knowing that at any moment it would happen. And so it did.

They had come upon a place where numerous holes — about as wide across as Samuel’s head — pierced the floor between the flowing streams of orange glass. In a flash, something long and skinny, about the width of a man’s leg, shot furiously out of the hole. With a hissing sound, it opened its mouth and flicked a glowing blue tongue into the open air. There was a pop as a fire bug touched the tongue and disappeared.

The beastly creature stood erect for a moment, then began slowly moving down again, turning its slick head from side to side. Despite its eerie blue eyes, there was no sign that it had noticed the people who had entered its domain.

“Cave eel,” mumbled Dr. Kincaid. He had never gotten used to seeing them and his voice was ghostly.

“What’s a cave eel?” asked Samuel.

“It eats fire bugs by the thousands,” said Vincent. “You only get to touch a cave eel once. It’s a quick death.”

“This place makes no sense,” said Sir William, flabbergasted by the bizarre and seemingly useless nature of his surroundings.

“Oh, but it does make sense!” said Dr. Kincaid. “Every living thing needs energy, especially in Atherton. The union of fire bugs and cave eels creates untold energy in the form of electricity and heat. This power made Atherton grow and evolve. The eels and the fire bugs are like a perpetual engine, don’t you see? Together they make the Rivers of Fire. And these molten rivers run through the inside of Atherton, just as blood runs through the inside of you.”

“Doctor!” cried Vincent. Dr. Kincaid could become talkative at the most inopportune moments. “This is no time for a scientific conversation.”

Another cave eel erupted into the open air, then another. They popped up about every ten seconds, then slowly crept back down again between the flowing orange liquid on the floor.

“You have to be kidding me,” said Sir William. As if the horrific sight of cave eels weren’t enough, Sir William was finally touched by a fire bug on an exposed ankle. Samuel brushed the robe along his legs and the bug was gone, but not until after Sir William let out a scream that nearly sounded like the Nubian. “I hate these bugs,” he grumbled after the initial shock, trying desperately to remain calm for the sake of Samuel and Isabel.

“I know it seems impassable,” said Vincent, trying to keep everyone’s attention even as they were being electrocuted. “But you’re wrong.”

Vincent stepped out among the cave eel holes and waited. At the moment one shot up into the air next to him, Vincent moved along its side, careful not to touch it. “As long as you stay away from the holes and don’t lose your nerve, everything will be fine.”

With fire bugs in the air, Rivers of Fire at his feet, and holes that contained monsters with glowing blue tongues, Samuel thought it looked near impossible. “Dr. Harding was mad,” he said. “Truly, truly mad.”

Dr. Kincaid had the urge to explain how brilliant the Inferno was — that it really wasn’t meant for people but that it had a marvelous purpose — but he held his tongue and followed Vincent’s steps carefully. Vincent would guide Dr. Kincaid through the cavern first, then come back for the others.

The cave eel bay, as it was called, was only a hundred feet long. It was very well lit from all the glowing tongues, fire bugs, and radiant glass running along the floor in channels. He followed Vincent across the bay and felt the swish of a cave eel only once, very near to his arm. Soon Dr. Kincaid was at the other side and Vincent came back through for the others.

“I think it would be best to carry them,” he said to Sir William. Isabel and Samuel exchanged a look that said this was a very bad idea.

“We’ll be fine,” said Samuel. “Isabel, you go with Vincent, and we’ll follow closely.”

Sir William felt this was probably the only way, so he nodded his agreement. Vincent took Isabel’s hand and they began moving across the bay. There were dozens of holes, and all around her the cave eels were shooting up in search of fire bugs. The heads were dark grey and formless, like balled-up fists with luminous eyes and gaping mouths. Isabel wondered what a cave eel would think if she stepped over the top of one of the black holes.

They had come very near the other side when one of the cave eels — one that had already darted out of its hole and slid halfway down — shot back up into the air. When it flicked out its tongue, it missed the fire bug it was aiming for. The bug zipped toward Isabel’s ear without her notice, and when it landed the shock went through her head, down into her arm, and into Vincent’s hand. The two were being electrocuted by one tiny bug, and neither of them could bat the bug away.

Samuel saw what was happening and sprang forward, over the top of a black hole, and slapped Isabel in the side of the head before falling to the ground.

“Samuel, no!” cried Sir William. The bug was dislodged from Isabel’s ear and danced off merrily as if nothing had happened. The cave eel from the hole that Samuel had just passed over shot up, barely missing him, but where Samuel lay on the floor of the tunnel left him in a very dangerous position. Samuel was snaked like an S around three of the holes, and his head was perilously close to one of the Rivers of Fire popping with electricity.

Dr. Kincaid hastened out into the bay and retrieved Isabel, carrying her to safety. But something about the way Samuel had moved over the hole had set off a reaction in the cave eel bay. All of the creatures came out at once, their tongues darting overhead madly and filling the space with what looked like a night sky full of blue candles, rising and falling in spasms of anger.

Vincent and Sir William carefully helped Samuel to his feet, blowing fire bugs to the side, and the three zigzagged their way the final few steps out of the cave eel bay.

“Is she all right?” asked Samuel. Sir William was on his knees hugging his boy mercilessly, telling him to please be more careful.

“I’m fine,” said Isabel, though she was scratching her ear almost comically hard, her hair dancing around over her head with static electricity. They stood as a group looking back over the frenetic lights of the Inferno, wondering how they’d ever made it across.

“We made it!” cried Dr. Kincaid. “We’re no longer under Tabletop. We’re under the Flatlands now. The rest of the way is quick and easy. Soon we’ll be outside once again!”

Everyone smiled, elated at the prospect of escaping the inside of Atherton. Even Sir William finally seemed convinced that these two men could be trusted.

Vincent had moved ahead of the rest to scout their way. And it was this fact that made what happened next possible, for Vincent would have been watching the group carefully.

While no one was paying much attention, a fire bug danced out of the bay all alone and landed softly on Isabel’s hand, and she felt something deep inside that made her think she was about to die. This time she did not convulse at the touch of the fire bug. She only went limp, barely breathing at the edge of the Inferno.

CHAPTER 30

A Thousand Cleaners

Within the throng of a thousand people living on Tabletop there were three who could not bring themselves to leave the grove. Nobody knew they had decided to stay, and with so much commotion it was easy to ignore the fact that these three were making preparations of their own.

Charles and Eliza, Isabel’s parents, were two of the three. The other was Samuel’s mother, Adele. The three of them had formed a tight bond over their common loss. None of the three had any interest in leaving the grove, because it was the only place where they felt Isabel and Samuel might return to, if they were to return at all.

It was Maude’s husband, Briney, who was first to discover their plans. He came upon them fortifying one of the abandoned houses in the village.

“Charles?” interrupted Briney. Briney had come to like all three of them very much in the preceding days, and he felt terrible for their loss. “What are you doing out here all alone? We’re about to leave.”

“We’re staying here,” said Charles, lashing some boards together with twine made from the thin bark of the trees. “For when Isabel and Samuel come back.”

Briney was fairly certain that neither of the children would return, that they’d been lost in the Highlands and could not have escaped the rising water. He felt he needed to speak the truth, but he didn’t want to further discourage them.

Eliza could tell Briney was struggling with what to say. “It’s all right, Briney,” she said. “We know Isabel and Samuel might not come back. But they’re all we have, and if there’s even the smallest chance, we have to stay.”

“But the Cleaners . . . ,” protested Briney, yet knowing they would never listen.

“We appreciate your concern,” said Charles. “But we’re staying.”

Briney couldn’t help embracing all three of them, wishing them well, and telling them he didn’t want to leave them behind.

“When they come back,” said Briney, trying with all his might to encourage them, “race as fast as you can to the Flatlands. I’ll be looking for you.”

Adele, the quietest of the group, spoke up. “Go take care of Maude. She’s going to need you.”

“Maude is the stronger of us two,” said Briney. “But you’re right, Adele. She does need me. I don’t think she can keep going if we’re not together to the end.”

As Briney made his way back into the swarm of people preparing to leave, he felt they were like an army readying for a march into battle. There was an electricity about their movements, not desperate but purposeful, brought on primarily by Horace’s leadership. It was true there was every reason to believe the day would hold death and destruction, but Horace led them straight and true and this made all the difference.

Before leaving, they lined the children and mothers up the very middle of the grove. In the paths between the trees next to the children, rows of men and women with supplies were positioned. After that came two long lines of men between the next row of trees, each with wooden spears. Through a final row of trees on both sides rode the remaining men from the Highlands on horses, ten on each side.

At the front of the procession were Horace, Maude, and Edgar, and at the back were a cap of twenty men prepared to fight off as many Cleaners as they could. Soon the party was moving, like a long arrow of humanity, steadfast on the outside, but delicate at its center.

Edgar was the first to sense something larger than a rumble from the Highlands and from the ground beneath their feet. “Something’s changed,” he said, walking alongside Horace and Maude. But then the feeling went away and he shrugged, though certain he’d felt a kind of swaying that he hadn’t before.

Briney came alongside the group of three and told of Charles, Eliza, and Adele’s decision to stay.

“I suppose we should have expected that,” said Maude. “There’s not much optimism for where we’re going. At least if they stay, there’s a chance Isabel and Samuel will come back.”

“They’re not coming back,” said Edgar. “They’re underneath the Highlands, just like the rest. None of them are coming back.”

Secretly, Edgar felt terrible for not staying in Tabletop himself. Losing Samuel and Isabel was devastating in a way he’d never experienced before, and he didn’t think he would ever make another friend. Even though something told him they weren’t dead yet, in his mind he could only envision them trapped in the laboratory, waiting for the water to find its way in. The waves had been so powerful that he couldn’t see any other outcome but that the water would crush them in the end, if it hadn’t already.

“Don’t be so glum,” said Horace. “You said they weren’t dead when you last saw them. Maybe they found some other way out. Best not to think terrible thoughts based on what you don’t know.”

Edgar didn’t respond. His mind was distracted as they came to the edge of the grove, for the soft swaying had returned under his feet. He put his arms out in order to keep his balance, while rows of men on horses stumbled back and forth and others began to scream. The ground was soon moving like an earthquake, uprooting the larger trees in the grove and sending people scattering in every direction.

And then there came the sound of crashing waves, so loud it made them all turn back. They couldn’t see anything through the trees, but if they could have, they’d have been aware that the water had suddenly risen the last hundred yards without warning. The waves had crested Tabletop, a thin film of water making its way into the grove.

The ground stopped moving, and with it the sound of crashing waves subsided. But in its place there came a new sound in the stillness of the air. It was the sound of breaking bones, coming from both sides of the grove, through the fallen trees that lay in tangled heaps along the ground. The thousand Cleaners had arrived.

“Go!” cried Horace. “We must run!”

It was harder going than it would have been before the trees were knocked down. About half of the grove was still standing, but the other half lay in disarray. Most people had to maneuver around countless obstacles, with the sound of breaking bones growing ever closer.

Gill was waiting on his horse as the people reached the edge of the grove and burst into the open. “Stay in formation!” he howled. “And follow those in front of you!”

The lines of people stayed together as best they could, following Gill’s orders as he moved back and forth along the line. When half of the people had emerged from the grove, the sounds of war welled up and overtook the world of Atherton.

The Cleaners had come in from both sides, crawling hideously over one another in a rampage to reach the fresh food that lay hidden in the grove. They attacked as one powerful wave over the first line of defense — the riders on horses — and the men of the Highlands stabbed with spears, holding the beasts back. The Cleaners were momentarily surprised and reared back on one another, slashing for position, their anger flaring up into a violent rage of swarming for the front of the line.

It was a chaotic battle in which horses and men alike were felled. But miraculously, the line held as everyone within the arrow of humanity exploded up through the middle toward the end of the grove, charging with all their might. Yet the walls grew ever weakened by the violence outside.

Soon the second line of defense — the row of horseless men with spears — began to engage among the many who fought the Cleaners. A group of men, Horace among them, fell into position at the very back of the line to help the twenty who were already positioned there. Meanwhile, Maude had been ordered to take Edgar and escape the grove.

Soon all but the tail end of the line was free of the grove, moving quickly toward the Flatlands. Only Horace and thirty or so men remained, trying desperately to hold back the relentless tide of Cleaners.

And then, without warning, the ground began to shake once more as it had only moments before. More trees toppled over, pinning man and beast, and the Cleaners were thrown into confusion. They attacked one another, clamped down on the trunks of trees, rolled uncontrollably along the shaking floor of the grove.

When the quake subsided, the sound of crashing waves returned, louder than before. Something about the sound sent the Cleaners scattering in every direction. No longer were they interested in fighting and destroying. It looked as if they seemed not to know where to go and could only clang their terrible legs and teeth together senselessly.

“What’s happening?” cried one of the men.

Horace didn’t respond. Instead he roused the men, yelling for them to charge with everything they had left in them and to leave the grove with the rest of the group. And so they did.

When they emerged from the fallen trees they looked back and saw that nearly all of the trees in the grove had fallen over. Within the knotted roots and trunks the Cleaners that remained could be seen returning to the felled animals and people. They were, for the moment, satisfied with the bounty before them, uninterested in the idea of chasing after more that would take work to destroy. One of the horses, free of a rider, came bounding out of the trees and galloped at full speed toward the Flatlands, the only one lucky enough to emerge unharmed.

Looking past the Cleaners, Horace could see that the water was like a great lake of blue, frothing with whitecaps and spilling over into the far end of the grove. He worried about Charles, Eliza, and Adele, then turned and fled with the remaining men toward the Flatlands. Gill drew up alongside them on his horse in a state of panic. He had the additional horse that had escaped the grove attached to a rope.

“Hurry! Our time may be running out!” cried Gill.

“What do you mean?” said Horace. He’d run out of the trees so fast that he could barely breathe.

“We’re sinking,” Gill explained frantically. “Tabletop is sinking!”

Horace couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d imagined it, but it came as a shock to find that it was actually true. He and Wallace had agreed — if the Highlands had fallen, why not Tabletop? “Are you sure?” he asked.

“I’ve ridden ahead and seen it with my own eyes!” said Gill. “It’s already come down five feet or more. If we get another quake like that last one I’m afraid it will be too late. We’ll be trapped.”

This was the sort of motivation Horace and the men needed. In an instant they were charging for the edge of the Flatlands, glancing back as they went. Some of the Cleaners had moved away from the carnage and began pursuit. They were fast, maybe fast enough to catch them before they could get out, and Horace could not help thinking he’d made a mistake staying in the grove so long.

CHAPTER 31

The Flood

While the people of Atherton raced for the edge of the Flatlands, chased by a growing number of Cleaners, another race was underway inside of Atherton. Isabel was barely breathing and Vincent had never felt so awful in all his life. He kept hearing a dreadful voice over and over in his head: If she dies, it will be your fault. You will have failed her.

He carried her as fast as possible, even running when he could catch his breath, along the path that led under the Flatlands. It was the most open and expansive part of the inside of Atherton, and very soon it would be the only place inside that could ever be reached again. As Tabletop sank, so went the way in which to find the Inferno, the Nubian, all of it. Those things would remain, but it was uncertain if humans would ever see them again.

The light remained, shooting up in fiery beams from the ground, and the mountains within Atherton rose all around them on every side. It was a stunning but desolate place, dry and lifeless, and yet it had an indescribable, haunted beauty.

Dr. Kincaid had tried to explain, to pass the time, that it was the Inferno that made light possible inside Atherton. The fire bugs, the cave eel, the flowing electric glass, all of it had something to do with how Atherton’s underbelly was formed, how the sun could find its way through. He didn’t claim to understand it, only that it was a delicate balance, and that all these things that were happening inside were important to what happened outside.

“How much farther?” interrupted Sir William. He and Samuel were keeping up better than Dr. Kincaid was, but Vincent was a remarkably fit leader. He had far more energy than all the rest, even while carrying a sixty-pound girl.

“If we go quickly and don’t stop, only an hour. We have to get back to the rocks where Dr. Kincaid can help her before it’s too late.”

Sir William had already asked what Dr. Kincaid could do there that he couldn’t do inside Atherton. He’d been told that there were certain medicines they should have brought along for just such an occasion, but that in their haste they’d left them behind. Dr. Kincaid had grave doubts, as did Vincent, that the medicine would do any good. Isabel was barely breathing and was cold to the touch. She might die at any moment.

When the first of the people from the grove arrived at the place where the Flatlands began, Horace knew the time had come to stop and face the oncoming massacre. He knew that if he didn’t stop and convince the men who were with him to do the same, many more would be lost.

He beckoned the thirty or so men around him to stop, and to his great surprise they made no effort to dispute his idea. They knew, as Horace did, that the only way to get everyone out was to stay and fight, to create a diversion.

“You have done a great service to the living in Atherton,” said Horace. “Generations will recall this moment. They will remember how you stood and fought a terrible enemy so that others could live!”

The men gathered around him and called out a great cheer. They had been chosen for reasons they did not know to stand between the forces of destruction and a peaceful people. They formed groups of four or five each, turned to the sound of breaking bones, and dived headlong into a sea of Cleaners, beating them back with ferocious resolve.

As fate would have it, Horace was one of the last to fall, and he was given the gift of seeing with his own eyes the children and sheep and rabbits being hoisted out of Tabletop and into the Flatlands, their little feet dangling in the air as they were yanked hard and fast into a new life he would never know. He knew as he passed that his family and the others would make it out of Tabletop.

Horace’s eyes closed and he was at peace, a leader among men, sleeping at last and searching on the other side for his good friend Wallace.

A small number of Cleaners bolted for the Flatlands, hearing the sounds of voices and seeing the immense quantity of food that lay in wait for them there. But they were greatly outnumbered and no match for the men and women who remained. The Cleaners were beaten back with flying rocks and spears by a great horde of humanity from above in the Flatlands. The few who remained in Tabletop were soon lifted out, and the whole race of men in Atherton pelted the Cleaners with weapons until they retreated out of reach.

A huge shout rang out as had never been heard in Atherton. It seemed that everyone who lived was shouting at once, raising their voices with anger at all that had been taken from them, and with joy at all they’d overcome.

And then, as if to show them who really was in charge, Atherton began to quake as it never had before. It rumbled so hard and fast that many next to the very edge almost fell back into Tabletop as it careened spectacularly downward beneath them. In moments, Tabletop went from being five feet below them to thirty.

With a falling Tabletop the water came over the edge of the Highlands. Like a monster it charged, washing over the grove and pushing all the trees and homes from the ground. The Cleaners could hear the water rushing for them, and they reacted by trampling over one another in search of the Flatlands. But finding the edge leading thirty feet up meant finding a wall they could not scale. They attacked one another and leaped into the air, snapping their teeth.

And the water kept rolling through, covering Tabletop in a thin layer that glistened in the sun.

When the quake quieted to a mere tremor, Maude searched through the throng of people, trying to find the one person who had been put in her charge. She had lost her grip on him at the edge of the grove and hoped he was near, in the swarm of children. But she was wasting her time. She was in a place that had once been the lowest place in Atherton but had been transformed into the highest. Looking down, she wondered where the boy had gone. And she was right to wonder, for Edgar had gone back to the grove.

The first wave came into the grove without warning, toppling over a few of the trees that were left standing and barreling through the doorways of the very few houses that hadn’t fallen over. This came as a surprise to Charles, Eliza, and Adele. They’d been spared the coming of the Cleaners, who were drawn into battle with the departing horde of people, but the wave was only the first of many that were about to overtake them. They had not prepared for the eventuality of a flooded grove.

And so it was a very good thing that Edgar had been the first to realize what was happening and to turn back. Something deep inside him had taken over when the ground shook so violently that second time. He was the firstborn of Atherton, and maybe this gave him certain powers of perception about the place of his birth. He began to remember his dream of the night before, of the words Dr. Harding had said in the House of Power. Suddenly, he was sure that Tabletop would sink, that the water would come, and that Samuel and Isabel’s parents would perish if he did not go back for them.

And there was another part of the dream that made him feel a peculiar certainty that Isabel and Samuel were in danger but still alive, that he would see them again. They, too, were children of Atherton. They were born here, and Edgar sensed them moving inside, as if trying to be reborn as Atherton was being reborn. He felt Atherton had brought him by this way for a purpose bigger than himself — to bring Samuel and Isabel’s parents to the safety of the Flatlands or to die trying.

Edgar now had a little experience on the water and had an idea of what might keep them afloat if the water reached as high as he thought it might. The space of Tabletop was an enormous area to fill, but the water was already flowing so fast over the edges of the Highlands, Edgar thought all of Tabletop would have a layer of water upon it within minutes. After that, it was just a matter of how fast and how high the water would rise.

He jumped down out of one of the only trees that remained standing and landed in a foot of water at his feet. He lapped up handful after handful. Even in the face of escalating danger he could not help but quench his thirst. The water was pushing hard against his legs and another wave was rising out of the Highlands, threatening to bowl him over.

“Charles! Where are you?” he screamed as he made his way into what little remained of the village.

“We’re here!” cried Charles, stepping out of a door and onto a porch just as a five-foot-high wave slammed into the house. The wave knocked Charles and Edgar off their feet. Edgar had taken hold of a fallen tree with roots that were still lodged in the ground and he was sucked under the hanging branches. When he emerged, gasping for air, chunks of tree and house were floating all around him, threatening to hammer him unconscious.

Charles had recovered from the blast of water and retrieved Eliza and Adele from inside the house. When they came out, Edgar had made his way to the porch, and the four stood together as the water receded. Another wave out of the Highlands was building as the four braced themselves.

“After this one comes through, we need to run for it!” said Edgar.

“I’m not leaving here,” said Eliza. “Not without Isabel.” The wave struck the porch and the four held on tightly.

“I was wrong!” said Edgar. “She’s still alive, and so is Samuel! I’m sure of it. But we must go to the Flatlands! There’s no other way out for them or for us.”

Eliza and Adele were struck by the courage of this boy — how he had come back to get them — and as the water receded once more, they relented.

“How do we get out?” asked Adele, looking at Edgar and Charles, her wet hair hanging in strands before her face. “We have to find them!”

Edgar moved to the door of the house where water was standing two or three feet high. “We need a rope. A long one,” he said.

“I have it!” hollered Charles. He had made a stash of provisions in the house and waded through the door looking for the rope he’d saved. “Here! Here it is!”

It was still wound tight and he threw it over his shoulder. When he came out the door he saw Edgar, Adele, and Eliza staring with horror at two Cleaners swimming through the water, their jaws chomping at the surface as they were propelled on flapping tails. They could swim surprisingly well. It appeared to come naturally to them.

The two Cleaners approached the porch, snapping their teeth as if laughing with glee.

“Hold on!” commanded Charles, and a moment later, the biggest wave yet smashed into the house and blew it over. The Cleaners were swept away, past Edgar and through the trees. Charles, Eliza, Adele, and Edgar screamed for one another as they were all pulled under and through the grove. None of them knew how to swim.

When the wave was gone, its power taken by the vast open space of Tabletop, three feet of water remained, a shifting lake that spread all through the trees. Edgar and Charles popped out of the water first, quite near each other, and to their left Eliza emerged drenched and coughing. Adele was nowhere to be found and they called out for her.

Edgar had quickly grown used to the feeling of water around him, as if he were made for water in the same way he was made for climbing. He dived under, searching the fallen trees for any sign of Adele. He came up for air, went back down, and this time he saw her, trapped within the tangled roots of a third-year fig tree. She was not moving.

“Here!” cried Edgar, calling for Charles. He followed Edgar to the tree and the two dived under, releasing Adele’s legs and hauling her to the surface. Her face had turned a shade of blue and she was cold all over. They didn’t know how to help her.

“Put her over your shoulder,” said Edgar. “We have to get out of this grove before it kills us.”

Charles hoisted Adele up and her chest slammed into his shoulder, shooting water out of her lungs and mouth. Adele was a small woman, and as Charles moved, she bounced up and down, her chest pumping with air and pushing out water. Then, miraculously, she began to cough.

Charles placed her down in water that came to the tops of her legs and he lifted up her back. Soon, she was able to stand on her own and the group of four was moving fast out of the grove. The waves had stopped and the farther they went the lower the water became until it was splashing at their ankles and they were able to run once more.

At the edge of the grove, where the water was shallow, they encountered a Cleaner, staring them down. Its jaws were snapping wildly, but it was unable to move.

“What’s happened to it?” asked Eliza.

“It must be the water,” said Edgar. It seemed right to him that Dr. Harding would plan it this way. Before them lay a Cleaner thrashing with rage and might, but its legs were gone and only the wild teeth and tail remained. The legs had retracted, leaving only small stumps that were too short to carry the Cleaner anywhere. It also appeared that the Cleaner was having some trouble breathing, as if being submerged in water had changed it into something entirely different. A sea monster lay before them, only it had been pushed out of the water and here it was, hopelessly stranded.

The group of four walked past the Cleaner as it snapped and tried to attack them, but it could not move to sink its awful teeth into a leg or an arm. It struggled to breathe as they made their way past, its middle heaving in and out.

“Can you keep running?” Edgar asked Adele.

“I think so,” she answered. They began moving faster toward the Flatlands, looking in every direction for Cleaners as they went. At a dead run it would take them twenty minutes or more to get across, but even from where Edgar was he could see in the distance that Tabletop had moved down. How far, he couldn’t say.

They saw no Cleaners as they went, but soon Edgar spotted them in a writhing pile at the edge of the Flatlands. He could make out the shapes of people above, hurling rocks down at hundreds of Cleaners. The Cleaners seemed intent on leaping and scratching at the wall, trying to get out, totally immersed in the effort of trying to exit Tabletop.

“They want out,” said Charles. The group had come to a stop out in the open.

“They must know the water will change them,” said Edgar. “Maybe the change hurts.”

Eliza thought the whole messy business of Cleaners was sickening, and she made a sour face at the thought of these monsters transforming.

“We need to change course, stay wide of them,” said Charles. He had been able to keep the tightly wound rope over his neck and shoulder, and Edgar wondered aloud how long it was.

“I don’t know, maybe fifty feet,” said Charles.

“That will be plenty,” said Edgar, though he secretly knew that if Atherton began moving again the Flatlands might well rise quickly out of reach of a fifty-foot rope.

They set off at a run once more, taking a diagonal path to the Flatlands that led away from the thrashing pile of Cleaners. When they were but a few minutes from reaching the rising, jagged cliffs leading to the Flatlands, the ground began to sway beneath them.

“Don’t stop!” yelled Edgar. All of them were out of breath, but Edgar the least. He was a boy who had spent his life climbing to heights no one could imagine. He had boundless energy, and raced ahead of the rest at full speed.

“I’ll start up,” he hollered back at Charles, who struggled to go on. “You’ll need to throw me the rope.”

Edgar charged on as Atherton shook with the pains of birth — a new world being formed and shaped just as Dr. Harding had planned — and the Flatlands rose higher. When Edgar reached the wall, he climbed without delay, the stones rumbling in his hands as he went. Looking back, he saw waves ten times higher than the ones he’d endured in the grove. It was enough water to cover all of Tabletop, and Edgar knew he and the others must hurry.

The Cleaners became aware of the coming wave as Edgar had, and they scattered in every direction, searching for a way out. Some of them spotted Charles, Eliza, and Adele as the three darted for the wall. Charles removed the rope, seeing that the wall had risen to forty feet above, and he threw it to Edgar who hung high on the shaking wall.

It took two more tries, but Edgar finally caught the rope and began moving up at an astounding pace. From behind came the giant wave, and from the side came the menacing Cleaners looking for one last meal to devour.

“Throw the rope!” cried a voice from above. It was Gill, and others were with him. Edgar had come within five feet of the top as Atherton began to settle into a gentle quake. Edgar was unwilling to take a chance that they might miss the catch, so instead he kept the rope gripped firmly between his teeth and scaled the last of the wall in a matter of seconds.

Gill took the rope from the boy’s mouth and hollered down. “All of you! Take hold!”

They had thought of going one at a time, but there was no way for that now. They would all have to take the rope at once and be hauled up. The wave was growing in speed and size as it came, cresting at twenty feet tall. The Cleaners were very nearly on top of them as Charles wrapped the end of the rope around himself, tying it tightly, then took one woman under each arm, holding fast and screaming into the air.

“Pull us up!”

Gill and ten other men were at the ready when Edgar gave the signal to pull on the rope. The boy couldn’t help joining in the effort, all eleven people moving farther and farther from the edge, bringing with them a growing length of the rope. When they had most of the rope pulled up, everyone who had stood at the edge backed away, for the wave was about to strike the wall.

Edgar watched as the powerful wave slammed into the wall and white water shot high and fierce into the air. Then he ran for the edge, hoping against all hope that Charles, Eliza, and Adele had been able to hold on.

CHAPTER 32

Edgar’s Departure

When Edgar arrived at the edge and looked down, he saw three battered and bruised people hanging soaked and gasping for air against the rocks. Charles had held on, but he was quickly losing his grip.

“I can’t hold them, Edgar!” he screamed.

And there was more trouble than that. A second wave was forming that threatened to suck them out to the quickly forming sea below, and worse, the Cleaners were leaping out of the water all around them, snapping their jaws very near Charles’s feet.

Edgar sprang into action, climbing down the side of the cliff without hesitation. When he arrived beside them, Adele put an arm around his shoulder and he winced in pain. But she was light, almost as light as he was, and he was able to take most of the weight from Charles.

“Gill! Pull us up!” cried Edgar. The rope began to move again, bringing the group of four within a few feet of the top, where they were grabbed and pulled into the Flatlands just before the second wave hit.

“Away from the edge!” said Gill. “This one’s going to come all the way over!”

Charles helped Eliza, and Edgar tried his best to run with Adele as the wave crashed, sending a wall of water over the edge where it pounded into the Flatlands with a roar.

The water receded, leaving behind a half-dozen Cleaners that had been tossed over the edge, their legs already beginning to shrink inside them so far that they could hardly move. As they flailed on the ground, men with spears finished them off without difficulty.

It was then that Atherton began what would be its last quake. It was the longest of them all, though not as violent, and when it was over, everyone who remained walked to the new edge of the world and looked over in wonder. Tabletop was far below them, two hundred feet or more, and it was filling rapidly with water. Cleaners were jumping along the edge, getting accustomed to the fact that they were no longer land animals, but instead creatures of a great lake.

“I think the transformation of Atherton is very nearly finished,” said Edgar. There was a ring of authority in his voice that even he didn’t expect, but he was beginning to recognize his intuition about such things and to understand that somehow, some way, Dr. Harding had inexplicably connected Edgar to Atherton. Edgar now knew that the water would rise, but only as far as the edge, and then Atherton would be the way it was meant to be from the start.

Maude and Briney came up alongside Gill, looking beaten and tired. Briney had a bunny sack over his shoulder, filled with the very last of the rabbits.

“He’s gone,” said Maude.

Her words reminded everyone within earshot of Horace, their fallen leader, and a deep silence ensued. There was much to be celebrated, but a terrible price had been paid and it was beginning to sink in.

Edgar had endured tremendous hardship and loss along with everyone else, but it was he who was the first to begin thinking of a calmer future. “When you get your inn going again and there are rabbits running everywhere, will you cook me one that’s crispy with fig dust?”

“I would if there were any figs to be had,” said Maude. “But I’m afraid the grove was lost, and in all the chaos, no one thought to bring a fresh fig along for the journey.”

Edgar dug down inside his shirt pocket and removed the chunk of Cleaner he’d been carrying around for the past two days. He unfolded wet leaves surrounding a clump of meaty green slime and, digging his fingers inside, he produced three soft but shiny figs. They were perfectly preserved as he’d known they would be. Dr. Harding had told him so in his dreams on that last night in the House of Power, and so it was.

“We can start a new grove,” said Edgar. Gill was very pleased at the sight of the round figs covered in slime, and he took them from Edgar. A worker from the grove was called over and came near, retrieving the figs. Edgar watched as the man disappeared into a crowd of ogling people, and then he glanced to his right where he heard sheep. He counted five, along with a shepherdess who watched over them. And there were the two horses, held by one of the few men who remained from the Highlands.

“A male and a female?” asked Edgar.

Gill nodded with a smile. “A good bit of luck, don’t you think?”

There was a group of men standing around one of the fallen Cleaners that had been thrown by the wave into the Flatlands. Edgar went to it and asked the people to step back.

“May I use your spear?” asked Edgar, gazing up at a man standing beside him. The man handed it over, and Edgar thrust it into the Cleaner’s side four or five times in a small circle, then he handed the spear back again.

“Thank you,” he said.

The man nodded and looked at Edgar as if he’d lost his mind, but Edgar knew what he was doing. He reached down and tore a chunk of the Cleaner free where he’d made the circle, and then he ate it. Everyone gasped in horror at the sight of the boy with green slime running down his chin.

“It tastes best if you cover the black with the green,” said Edgar, recalling how Dr. Kincaid had showed him the best way to enjoy the remains of a Cleaner. He wiped his mouth and went for another chunk, holding it out to Gill who stood near. Gill sniffed it warily for a long time, but his nose was the smartest part of him, and it was telling him that this revolting clump was something his nose wanted him to eat. And so he did, smiling at the sweet and salty taste in his mouth.

Edgar felt certain he’d made his point — that there was plenty of food to be had while they waited for more rabbits and sheep and figs — if only they could find a way to retrieve the Cleaners from the rising sea of freshwater. He surveyed everything before him, thinking of the long journey across the Flatlands that he was about to take.

“I think we’ve got all we need to start again,” said Edgar. “It will be nice to have so much water for a change.”

Charles, Eliza, and Adele were sitting down, sorely beaten by the events of the day, and in no shape to make a long trek across a deserted land.

“There’s someplace I need to go,” said Edgar. “I’ll be gone for at least a day, maybe longer, but I need to go alone. I’m not sure what I’ll find there.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Gill. He was not as accustomed to Edgar’s secret ways as some of the others had become, and he didn’t want to let the boy go wandering around without protection.

“You’re needed here,” said Edgar, reaching out for the spear that Gill held in his hand.

“What if you find Cleaners out there or some other terrible enemy?” said Gill, sniffing the air in search of something unexpected.

“All the Cleaners are gone,” said Edgar. “There’s nothing left to harm us except ourselves.”

Gill understood the meaning of what Edgar was saying. There were four groups of people together that would need to work together as one to survive, and without Horace to lead them it might not take long for them to begin fighting over supplies and territory. He handed Edgar the spear and started back toward the others to begin the hard work of making a new home. Only Maude and Briney remained.

“You sure about this, Edgar?” asked Briney.

“He’s sure,” said Maude. “Come on. Let’s go find a good spot to build an inn for you to run.” She looked off toward the shepherdess and said something to Briney she’d been thinking for a while. “I wonder if she would teach me how to tend sheep.”

“I bet she would if you showed her how to cook a rabbit,” said Briney. He was happy to see Maude’s interests leaning toward quieter things. The two moved off, and for a moment Edgar stood alone, trying to get his bearings. A much younger boy of five or six ran up and handed him a piece of Cleaner and a jug of water.

“This is good!” said the boy, stuffing another piece of the slimy meat into his mouth.

“I’m glad you like it,” said Edgar, taking the meat and the jug.

“The water is rising fast,” said the boy. He was afraid of being washed away or of being eaten by a Cleaner. “Are you sure it won’t come any higher than the edge?”

Edgar’s gaze shifted to the giant hole leading down into Tabletop. It was outrageous, the idea that the grove was under water and he would never see it again. His old home had vanished.

“I met the man who made this place,” said Edgar. “And he told me the water would never reach the Flatlands. You’re safe here.”

The child beamed and this made Edgar very happy. He watched the little boy run back into the sea of people, and then without any more hesitation he started on his way toward Dr. Kincaid’s home.

CHAPTER 33

Reunited

It was a long walk across the vast Flatlands, even longer than Edgar remembered, and the day was nearing its end when he arrived at the towering rocks that surrounded Dr. Kincaid’s home. He found his way to the pile of boulders that blocked the path, climbing over and down the other side. When he rounded the last turn of the old trail and came to the table where he’d first eaten black and green, he expected to see the old man sitting there. But the chairs were empty and the place had a desolate feeling of having been left behind.

Edgar crossed to the opening of the cave and peered inside. It was dark, but not pitch-black, and this made him think that maybe Dr. Kincaid’s home wasn’t entirely empty after all. He went inside, calling Dr. Kincaid’s name.

“Edgar?” It wasn’t Dr. Kincaid, but another voice that Edgar knew. It was a voice that made him dash into the cave to the familiar place where he had once laid with an injured shoulder and a severed finger. Around the very same bed stood Vincent, Sir William, Dr. Kincaid, and the boy who had spoken Edgar’s name. Samuel cried out Edgar’s name again and bolted from the group, embracing his friend.

There were hoots and hollers from both boys at the sight of each other. Vincent, Dr. Kincaid, and Sir William came over to the two excited boys and joined in the celebration, laughing and patting them on the back.

“Where’s Isabel?” asked Edgar. “I want to see her!”

The laughter died down faster than it had begun and Edgar knew something was wrong. He didn’t wait for the men to stand aside. Instead, he burst right through them toward the bed.

There, cold and unmoving, was Isabel. Her face was white and her eyes were closed.

“She’s not gone,” said Dr. Kincaid, coming up beside Edgar. “She’s still alive.”

“What’s happened to her?” he asked. “Will she wake up?”

Dr. Kincaid was worried she might not, but he wasn’t going to tell Edgar, at least not yet. “She’s been through an awful trauma, but there’s a chance she’ll recover.”

The men and boys stayed at Isabel’s side and talked in whispers of what had happened to them. Edgar had to tell them that Dr. Harding was dead, and Horace, too, but that he’d managed to save Samuel’s mother and Isabel’s parents. Sir William and Samuel explained how they’d been reunited, their excitement over hearing of Adele’s safety overshadowing the losses of the day.

“Did the water rise as he said it would?” asked Dr. Kincaid. He was very curious about the things Dr. Harding had told them in Edgar’s absence.

“Why, yes, it did,” said Edgar. “How did you know from way out here?”

“I have my ways,” said Dr. Kincaid, and then Vincent hit him in the arm.

“He’s an old fool,” said Vincent, then he asked Edgar a question of his own. “And the Cleaners? What happened to them?”

Edgar took great joy in telling them all that they would never have to worry about Cleaners again. They talked for a long while, and Edgar was able to hear about how they had escaped the Nubian and the Inferno, how they’d come all the way under the Flatlands and through a yellow door hidden in the cave. After a long while everyone but Vincent went out to the table for a moment of fresh air.

“How big are the mountains inside?” asked Edgar, thinking they might be the last place on Atherton where he might find good climbing.

“Very big,” said Dr. Kincaid. “But you’ll have to kill me to get the letters that will open the yellow door.” He was determined to keep Edgar safely away from the inside of Atherton.

A brief moment of silence was broken as a steady noise emerged from far away, faint at first, but growing louder until it was unmistakable. It was the sound of horses’ hooves, from more than one horse.

“Who could that be?” said Dr. Kincaid. The group ran down the path to the pile of rocks and Edgar quickly climbed to the top. On the other side, in the grey light of early evening, stood two horses. Gill was riding one, with Adele on the back. On the other were Charles and Eliza.

“Give a horse a little Cleaner meat and they perk right up,” said Gill, smiling broadly.

“How did you find me?” said Edgar.

Gill tapped his enormous nose on one side. “Never underestimate the power of my snout.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “We watched you leave. You were heading like an arrow in one direction, and it wasn’t hard to pick up your trail. Why did you come here?”

Before Edgar could open his mouth, Samuel and Sir William joined him on top of the pile of rocks. The resulting celebration was one that Edgar would never forget. After everyone briskly dismounted, Gill and Charles hoisted Adele up to the rocks where she threw her arms around Sir William and Samuel. Adele was so unexpectedly overcome by seeing Sir William again that she danced and cried and laughed all at once.

Soon enough, Charles, Eliza, and Gill had climbed up as well. They didn’t want to disturb the festive atmosphere, but they had come for another reason.

“Where’s Isabel?” asked Charles.

It was Dr. Kincaid, waiting below, who answered. “Let’s see if we can’t get everyone down from there and over to this side,” he said. “Edgar, you could be of some help, couldn’t you?”

After Edgar had shown everyone the easiest way down from on top of a big pile of rocks, Eliza asked again, “Have you seen my daughter? Do you know where she is?”

Dr. Kincaid came alongside the two parents and guided them around the path toward the table and chairs. He was pulling on his droopy earlobe, trying to figure out how to explain that Isabel was there but might not make it through the night. When he was just opening his mouth, the two parents bolted from his side and ran toward the table without warning. For sitting there, along with Vincent, was Isabel.

“You’re all very, very loud,” she said. “You woke me up.”

Everyone gathered around her — first her parents and then Edgar, Samuel, and the others. She was alive! And the color was already returning to her face.

The whole group talked about all that had happened, and after a while they laid under the stars, whispering to one another about the inside and the outside of Atherton, about Dr. Harding, about water and Cleaners. Until all at once they felt the end of a great adventure come upon them, and they were tired beyond words. Everyone fell asleep, and they slept well, knowing they’d made their peace with Atherton and its maker.

CHAPTER 34

One Year Later

Anyone who might have arrived a year after the brief but catastrophic period of changes on Atherton would have assumed it had always been this way. The idea of three towering lands, each one reaching higher in the air, would have been absurd.

There would come a time, much later, when the children of Atherton would debate whether or not any of it had ever happened.

Such is the way of civilization in any form, and Atherton’s small footprint in the universe would be no different. There would be talk of the Dark Planet and the strange shape of Atherton in the past, of great battles and heroes. But much of it would not be believed, and the daily movements of life would wash away all memory in the same way that places like the grove and the House of Power were lost forever.

But for now, everyone remembered. There were those who wrote things down in journals and drew pictures of lost places they could only visit in their minds. And yet so much of what had been lost had come back in almost exactly the same way. Thousands of fragments of uprooted fig trees had been pushed to the edge of the great lake in the middle, where they were harvested, dried out, and used to build anew.

There were three new villages, though they were much closer together now, within an easy walk of each other. There was a new inn at the Village of Rabbits, cobbled together from debris washed ashore. It was known not only for exceptional, fire-roasted “hoppers,” as Briney had come to call them, but also grilled Cleaner, a specialty that made for long lines in the evening hours. Maude walked every morning to the Village of Sheep nearby, and she tended the lambs. Horace had not been given the chance to take Wallace’s advice, but somehow, without hearing it firsthand, Maude had learned the shepherds’ ways by watching. All her anger and frustration was gone, and in its place a quiet and increasingly wise woman remained.

The Flatlands were fertile with the addition of water, and a large grove that had been planted with seeds from Edgar’s three figs was thriving. There were rows and rows of new saplings, and every day Edgar and Isabel tended to them with great care. The two were increasingly close to each other, and there were certain expectations on Atherton about them that neither Edgar nor Isabel minded very much. Samuel was their constant companion, learning about the grove and in turn teaching both of them to read and write.

Very few men of the Highlands survived the two exoduses, first from their home in the sinking Highlands and then from the coming of the Cleaners. In the end, it was they who saved everyone else, led by one of their own on horses only they knew how to control well enough to fight with. They had ruled over everyone for a long time, but in the end, Atherton had taken them.

Some would say Atherton had punished them for their earlier misdeeds; others would say this was an idea born out of a long-simmering jealousy of the luxuries those in the Highlands had enjoyed for so long. But the truth could not be denied — the biggest loss of life had come from those in the Highlands, and the survivors were safe because of what they’d done. There were few who could look at the wives and children of those men who were lost and not feel the weight of the price that had been paid.

The water had stopped rising at the edge of the Flatlands as Edgar said it would. At night it looked as if the lake was lit by a deep and hidden inferno blazing somewhere beneath the surface. And so it was that it came to be known as the Lake of Fire, a place of darkness fused with light. No one could look at the Lake of Fire and not think of what lay beneath, but only the diving Cleaners could see those things now — the House of Power, the grove, the other villages.

It was on just such a night that Vincent and Dr. Kincaid stood on a wide and sturdy pier built from parts of houses that had come ashore. They stood together, Vincent with a spear tied to a rope and Dr. Kincaid watching intently.

“Here comes one now,” said Dr. Kincaid. “Don’t miss this time.”

“Why don’t you go back home and read a book,” said Vincent. “You’re making me nervous.”

Dr. Kincaid laughed. He didn’t want to go read a book. He wanted to bother his closest friend while the man tried to catch a fish.

“You’re going to miss it,” said Dr. Kincaid.

“No, I’m not,” said Vincent.

The swimming Cleaners were not the smartest of creatures, and so they really weren’t that difficult to kill. A well-thrown spear attached to a rope was the easiest way to land one. After that all you had to do was haul it in and club it over the head a few times and you could feed a great many people for several days.

Vincent threw the spear fast and hard toward the shadow beneath the surface and the shadow moved off. He had missed.

“Told you,” said Dr. Kincaid.

Vincent sighed and reeled in the line, searching the water for another try.

“There was a time I thought Dr. Harding was mad to bring people here before it was finished,” said Dr. Kincaid, turning to deep thoughts as he often did when the two fished together at night. “But that time has passed. I think we were needed, just as the Inferno and the Nubian and everything else was needed. He knew. The birth of Atherton had to include people, or it wouldn’t have worked. I’m sure of that now.”

“Why do you say such ridiculous things?” said Vincent.

“Because that’s what men of science are best at,” said Dr. Kincaid. “It’s not ridiculous to me, only to people who lack the intellect to understand. I feel sorry for you.”

Vincent rolled his eyes. “All right, if you’re so smart, you catch a fish,” he said, holding the spear out to Dr. Kincaid. The old man looked at the weapon and then at the glowing blue water filled with shadows.

“If I were to catch one, it might do irreparable damage to your self-worth. I can’t risk that.”

Vincent laughed and went back to his work of watching for a shadow close enough to hit.

Gill and Sir William walked up behind them and onto the pier, where Gill sniffed the air and knew without looking that Vincent had yet to catch a Cleaner.

“Slow going tonight?” he asked.

Vincent scowled. “We only started a few moments ago. Give me a little more time.”

Sir William smiled, then turned to Dr. Kincaid. “Have you seen Edgar?” he asked. “He didn’t show up for his riding lesson today.”

Sir William had taken to watching over the boy in the absence of a father, and Dr. Kincaid had very much appreciated it. Dr. Kincaid fancied himself more the grandfatherly sort and liked having Sir William there to help with the boy.

“Come to think of it,” Sir William added, “have you seen Samuel or Isabel? All three of them have been mysteriously absent all day.”

“Vincent?” said Dr. Kincaid. “You don’t suppose . . .”

Vincent nodded knowingly, and then went back to his fishing.

“Those three have overcome the inside and the outside of Atherton. I think they’ll be fine.”

Dr. Kincaid pulled on his earlobe and gazed thoughtfully over the glowing water. Then he turned back to Sir William.

“You can trust Edgar,” he said. “He knows how to take care of them.”

Sir William nodded and felt reassured. He had finally come to trust the old man of Atherton.

Edgar was the first to go right up to the edge. He had done it once before and knew that gravity had a powerful effect this close to the rim of Atherton. Samuel and Isabel weren’t sure. It felt strange, the way Atherton pulled on their feet and almost dragged them to the very end. Edgar had crawled over, but now he swung around and dropped his legs over the side of the world, feeling them pull in as if his feet were tied to strings and someone was gently drawing them near the bottom of Atherton.

“Come on, you two,” said Edgar. “Just crawl over like I did. You won’t fall off.”

Isabel’s thick black brows moved lower over her eyes and Edgar thought, as he often did recently, that she was a pretty girl. He especially liked that her skin was darker than his and that her hair was pitch-black. And he liked her nervous smile when she was afraid but excited to try something new. She had just such a smile on her face as she began crawling toward Edgar with Samuel close behind.

When she arrived and hung her legs over the edge it took her breath away. The fear of sitting on the very edge of Atherton gripped her, but Edgar held one of her hands firmly and she felt better. It was exhilarating to lean slowly out and look at the stars and the Dark Planet below.

Samuel came up next to Isabel and let his legs dangle over. He was nervous and scared but also thrilled to have finally come to a place they’d spoken of often.

“I’ve thought of climbing down there,” said Edgar. “To see what it looks like.”

“That would be a terrible idea,” said Isabel, sure that it was only a matter of time before he tried.

“I know a place where the climbing is quite good,” said Samuel.

“I know it, too,” said Isabel.

“The inside,” said Edgar. “I know all about it. Why must you torture me?”

Dr. Kincaid and Vincent were the only ones who knew the eight letters that would open the yellow door into Atherton, and they were unwilling to let the secret out.

“One of these days he’ll tell us,” said Edgar. “He has to.”

For now it was good enough to sit at the edge of the world and look out with two friends. He thought back to a time before he’d come to know them, and there was a pang inside him as he remembered how truly lonely he had been.

“We should be getting back,” said Edgar.

“Just one more minute,” said Isabel, those piercing dark eyes locked on Edgar.

“All right, a little longer.”

The three friends sat close, laughing and talking quietly, their legs swinging happily over the edge of the world as they talked of all that had happened and all that was to come on the world of Atherton.

Edgar turned quiet and thought about how he’d been made, not born like his friends. He didn’t really understand this, but he thought of it often. Edgar and Atherton had both been made by the same creator. He felt more than ever that Atherton really was made for him alone, at least at the beginning, and that Dr. Harding had loved him enough to build a world for him, to shield him from life on the Dark Planet. He had made the place, then the boy, but in Dr. Harding’s mind Edgar had always been first and foremost.

Edgar’s thoughts turned to a place he didn’t often let himself go. Had the making of Atherton driven Dr. Harding mad, or was it something else, something more painful? It didn’t seem to Edgar that making a place could cause such trauma, but that making a person might. It was sad for a boy to think such thoughts, but Edgar couldn’t help it. He felt more and more certain that what had driven Dr. Harding crazy wasn’t losing Atherton but losing the son he’d made to inhabit Atherton.

“We’d better go,” said Samuel, stirring Edgar from his thoughts. “It’s a long walk.”

Isabel looked at Edgar and saw that he was feeling a little sad, so she did the kind of thing she always did, the kind of thing that made Edgar like her so much.

“I bet I can sling a fig farther out into space than you can.”

Edgar gazed out into the stars. “No, you can’t. I’m stronger than you.”

The two crawled away from the edge with Samuel, who was given the task of determining the winner. Slings were produced along with one black fig each, and the empty space of the Flatlands filled with a whirling sound made by two children of Atherton.

And then they let the figs go — snap! snap! — and they watched as the black figs flew straight and true. When the figs were a little way out over the edge, they turned down sharply, pulled toward the Dark Planet by the force of gravity.

“It’s a tie,” said Samuel. He began walking toward the villages, knowing his judgment would not stand.

“That was no tie,” said Isabel. “Mine went farther.”

“Mine’s on its way to the Dark Planet,” said Edgar. “It was definitely the faster of the two.”

The three children argued as they went, and Isabel was pleased that she’d turned Edgar’s mind away from the quiet thoughts he wouldn’t tell her about. She wondered if Edgar would ever share what had really happened to him during his time alone with Dr. Harding. Isabel could only say for sure that the spirit of the boy who held her hand was deeper than all the rest. She somehow felt, as all the other children born on Atherton did, that without Edgar, Atherton itself would grow lonely and die.

These were strange thoughts, but walking together with her friends and feeling the calm of Atherton all around her, Isabel was at peace. They walked on, staring up into a sky that used to hold their home and the homes of others, and the three of them were happy.