D. MacHale - The Quillan Games

“Come to the flume,” Mark said. Click. He hung up. End of message.

Courtney stared at the phone. Had she heard right? “Did you get him?” Mr. Chetwynde asked. Courtney whipped around to see both her parents arriving at her door.

“Uhhh…” was all Courtney managed to squeak out. Her brain had maxed out. She couldn’t process the information fast enough.

“Did you get Mark?” Mrs. Chetwynde asked. “Are his parents okay?”

Courtney knew she had to get a grip. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and said to herself, One thing at a time. She exhaled and said softly, “He left a message. His parents were on the plane.”

“Oh, no!” Mrs. Chetwynde cried.

Mr. Chetwynde hugged his wife. Courtney joined them. Her father put his arm around his little girl, and the three stood there, giving one another support and comfort in this sad and shocking moment. It was the kind of support and comfort Courtney knew Mark would never have again with his own family. Courtney stayed in her parents’ arms, not wanting the moment to end, because she knew what she had to do next. She feared there was more to this than a tragic accident. For whatever reason, Mark had gone to the flume. She didn’t dare speculate as to why. All she could do was hope he was okay. Anything beyond that was too frightening to think about.

(CONTINUED)

Courtney skipped school. The day before, going to school was one of the most important things in her life. It symbolized her return to being normal and healthy. Now, after what happened, school dropped off the list of important things to do. She didn’t want to hear the kids talking about the accident. She didn’t want to answer questions about whether or not she had talked to Mark. She didn’t want to put on a stoic face and pretend there wasn’t more going on than anyone knew. Because there was. Courtney had to go to the flume.

She grabbed her backpack and left at the regular time to catch the bus. Her parents wanted her to stay home, but she said she’d rather go. She didn’t say where. After hugging her parents good-bye, maybe a little tighter than normal, she left for the bus stop… and walked right past it.

The Sherwood house wasn’t a far walk through Courtney’s suburban neighborhood in Stony Brook. She had been there several times. It was a giant abandoned mansion that had once belonged to a guy who made his fortune raising poultry. He died years ago, and it had been empty ever since while his heirs argued over what to do with the land. Courtney’s dad said it would be in court for years because nobody was giving in. The property was too valuable. Courtney had no idea what the issues were. She didn’t care. The kids told stories about how the Sherwood house was haunted by the ghost of the chicken guy, who could be heard clucking at midnight. Courtney had told that story herself more than once. But now, she knew the truth about the house, and it was far more amazing than the appearance of a clucking ghost.

In its basement was a flume to the territories. When she and Mark became Bobby’s acolytes, they saw it being created. In this basement they jumped into the flume and traveled to Cloral and then Eelong. It was where the Traveler named Seegen died. It was where they saw Saint Dane for the first time, when his long gray hair exploded in flames, leaving him bald and scarred. It was where the demon dropped off the dirty bag that held Gunny’s hand, to lure Bobby to Eelong. Now there was going to be another chapter added to the story of the Sherwood house. Mark had gone there after hearing of the death of his parents. Courtney needed to know why.

The estate was surrounded by a high stone wall. The front gates were locked tight with a padlock. That never stopped Mark and Courtney. Along the side of the property a tree grew close enough to the wall that a quick climb got you on top. Courtney went right for the tree, glanced around to make sure nobody was watching, then climbed like a squirrel. Though Courtney was still stiff and sore, climbing wasn’t a problem. Getting down on the other side was. There was no tree there. She had to jump. She knew that was going to hurt. Worse, she wasn’t sure how her damaged leg would hold up in a jarring fall. Once on top of the wall, she couldn’t waste time. If somebody saw her up there, they’d call the police for sure. Courtney quickly threw her legs over the side, and while putting all her weight on her arms, lowered herself down until she was stretched out to her full body length, with only her fingertips holding on to the top of the wall. It was still a four-foot drop to the ground.

Her newly healed left arm felt like it was on fire. Still, she didn’t drop right away. What if the impact was too hard? Her left leg would shatter. She made the snap decision that she had to land on her right leg. But landing on one foot from that high wasn’t so smart either. If she landed wrong, she could do just as much damage. She might even blow out her knee. In those few seconds Courtney wished she had thought this part through a little better. It was too late, she was losing her grip. She took a breath and slipped off. She dropped the few feet and landed on her right foot, bending her knee and trying to absorb as much of the impact as possible. She hit and fell, landing on her right side. Courtney had heard the term “bone jarring” but it never meant much to her, until then. Her bones had been jarred. She lay there on the patchy grass, breathing hard, doing a mental checklist of body parts. Though the painful burn was intense, nothing seemed to be damaged. Everything moved. She waited for the agony to pass, and after a minute she was able to sit up. As much as the fall hurt, the only real damage was to her lower lip. She had bitten it. She’d live. And walk.

Courtney pulled herself to her feet and took a few tentative steps. So far, so good. The hard part was still to come. Courtney knew the Sherwood house very well. She had been in almost every room. It wasn’t as if she had been exploring, though. She and Mark had taken a very quick tour of the house, on the run, while being chased by a vicious pair of rampaging quig-dogs. The quigs hadn’t shown themselves since then, but Courtney wasn’t taking any chances. She was armed with two canisters of pepper spray, one in each pocket of her jacket, like a gun-slinger with a six-shooter on each hip. She knew there was no way she could outrun one of those beasties in her condition. If they were going to attack, she would stand her ground and unload on them with the burning spray.

With one hand on each canister, Courtney walked tentatively to the house. It was a spooky old mansion, even in daylight. Since it was late fall, the yard was gray and bleak, with dead leaves blowing everywhere. It was easy to see why the place had a reputation for being haunted. She climbed the stairs up to the porch and went right for the front door. It was never locked. She figured the people who took care of the place thought the lock on the front gate was enough to keep out intruders. Fools.

Courtney’s heart raced. She feared that a quig-dog might attack, but she was also anxious about what she would find at the flume. She hoped it would be Mark. She pushed the door open and peered into the big, empty foyer.

“Here, doggie doggie doggie,” she called.

All she heard back was the lonely echo of her own voice. Her confidence rose. Quigs weren’t subtle. If they were around and wanted to attack, they would have by now. Still, she kept her hands on the pepper spray just in case.

She closed the door and went right for the stairs that led down to the basement. Now that she was getting close, her anxiety rose. She wanted to know what she would find down there. She picked up the pace as she climbed down the stairs and walked across the vast empty basement to the wooden door that led to the root cellar, and the flume. She stopped outside the door and looked at the star symbol that marked it as a gate. She remembered back to when she and Mark saw it magically burned into the wood by some unseen force. As she stood there, staring at the symbol, she shook her head in wonder. Life was turning out to be a whole lot different than she’d expected.