Sarah Sparrow - A Guide for Murdered Children

1.

Three new landlords sat on folding chairs, primly waiting, when the Porter walked in with Willow in tow.

All had been on the train, of course, but Annie never got the chance to visit their cabins—another detail belonging to the “haywire” file, for in the past such a transgression would have been inconceivable. It grieved her because she so prized those precious first encounters with the frightened, fidgety children, when she dispensed treats and soothed them as best she could. It was the time she felt most like a mother. And how dreadful that they would leave empty-handed tonight, without her having had the chance to prepare their Guide s! It was simply unheard of. She always knew who was on the way, taking great pleasure and care to inscribe their names on the pamphlets’ covers. The Subalterns were forced to step in for her, personally delivering the address of the Cross of Glory Lutheran Church to each. And there was another strange thing: once the children left the train, it usually took anywhere from a few days to a full week for their landlords to appear at the Meeting—but these three arrived on the very same day they had become tenants.

When it came to characterizing the shock and gravity of recent events, the word haywire fell woefully short.

Annie shook it off and struggled to focus on the task at hand. She was passing the baton to a new Porter, just as her mentor had done with her, and was determined not to let the children or Willow down. No, that simply wasn’t an option. But there was something Annie couldn’t shake, evoking what her head called “the black panic”—with a vertiginous shudder, she realized that Dabba Doo and Violet weren’t in the room. (Troy and Maya were merely late, which had happened twice before and raised no red flags.) As she linked their absence to the information the sheriff had provided about “Winston,” it was suddenly all of a theme and her worst fears were confirmed.

Last night, during feverish sleep, she caught a glimpse of tiny Violet on the train—running from her, not toward her. But how? It wasn’t possible! The children weren’t allowed to board again until they’d had their moment of balance . Violet shared at the Meeting that she felt her moment was nearing (“You better get my birthday cake ready, Porter!”), but it hadn’t yet happened… though could it have? Could it be that “haywire” made the Porter miss it? As the passenger compartments rounded a bend, she saw the pajama’d little girl wrench herself from the Subalterns’ restraining arms and then leap into an abyss with a bone-rattling yowl. Her dark braids, weirdly lit by moonlight, gave only the briefest hint of how far she was falling. Like a somnambulist—or the heroine of a horror film—Annie perilously began to make her way toward the window that Violet had jumped from. As her pace quickened, the Porter dashed past the cabins of the frightened children who so desperately waited for her to come to them—the very ones in this room tonight—but there wasn’t time… And why were all of the windows of the corridor wide-open? They gaped like the throats of dead birds. The Subalterns were gone now and the light in the corridor sickeningly flickered. As she ran, Annie stepped on a trail of sticky things, a bumpy carpet leading all the way to where Violet had vanished.

When she took off her shoes, she saw them in the cold, stroboscopic light, stuck like cleats to her soles—crushed green gummy bears.

Annie’s presence was of course an enormous comfort, anchoring Willow as he floated in the half dream, half nightmare of the Meeting. (He was startled to see everyone wrapped in a blue haze.) She introduced him as a “special friend.” He didn’t catch anyone’s name; he could hardly remember his own. She knew he was in distress and occasionally reached over to pat his knee, as if to say, You’re doing just fine. She apologized to the newbies for not having brought their Guide s (a “snafu,” she said) and promised to hand them out at the next Meeting. The room was dark, save the glimmering candles that Annie asked Bumble to light, in her wish to soothe the Guide less freshmen.

After ten minutes passed, Lydia and Daniel slipped in, nodding cursory apologies to the Porter for their tardiness. They took their seats and scanned the candlelit room, registering surprise at so many new bodies (including the one sitting next to Annie). The half-light blurred the faces, but they were still able to make note of the absence of old colleagues:

Violet, Dabba Doo and Winston.

As the Meeting came to a close, Lydia wondered if Annie had done as promised, before they’d arrived—if she had told the group she was dying. She decided that the Porter probably hadn’t; there were too many new ones and it would have frightened them. All stood and held hands, while the first-timers nervously took their cues from Annie, Lydia and Daniel. As he joined in the recitation, Willow noted with irony that it was the first time the Lord’s Prayer had given him succor. When it was done, Annie smiled and said, “More shall be revealed,” before adding, “And all will be most very well!”

When the sentry turned the lights on, Willow, Daniel and Lydia locked eyes. Lydia gasped, “No!” and fainted; Daniel propped her up so she wouldn’t fall. Willow, dumbfounded, muttered, “How? How?” Annie watched it unfold and then shooed the others from the room.

“You can’t be!” said Lydia, as she roused, clambering from dream to dream. She turned to Annie, pleading, “He can’t be dead!”

Daniel, still possessing the cool nerves of a combat veteran, shook Willow’s trembling hand. “Welcome! What’s your name?”

“Willow Wylde,” he said by rote, in a complete state of shock.

“Not your landlord name,” said Daniel. “Your child name.”

“He doesn’t have one,” said Annie, in slow realization that the three somehow knew one another outside the Meeting.

“I don’t understand,” said Daniel, confounded.

“He’s going to be your new teacher.”

“But what do you mean ?” said Lydia.

“Willow is the new Porter. He’ll be taking my place.”

Daniel screwed his eyes at the detective for a good, long look. “ Now I know who you are,” he stuttered. “Now I remember… I knew that I knew you!” He took a deep breath and declared, “You were a friend of our father’s.” He turned to Lydia and said, “He’s Pace Wylde’s dad.”

“Pace?” said Lydia. She looked like she might faint again.

“Pace! Our babysitter…”

Willow could hear Daniel’s words but nothing made sense; like a corrupted hard drive, his brain had frozen. Lydia dropped to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably as she clung to his legs. Willow turned to Annie, in helpless supplication. “I don’t understand! Please! Help me—”

“Well,” she said calmly. “They seem to know your name—but you don’t know theirs.” She helped Lydia to her feet. “It is my honor to introduce you,” said the Porter, not fully cognizant of the havoc that her words were about to cause, “to Troy and Maya Rummer.”

It was Willow’s turn to collapse.

The siblings came together, helping him to a chair. Daniel brought a cup of lemonade while Lydia knelt beside him. As his consciousness flagged and rallied, he weakly smiled.

Then Daniel knelt too, and brother and sister each took one of his hands in a crowded pietà.

2.

Willow told them to meet him at the Early World Diner.

They got there first. After half an hour, Daniel began to think their boss might not show—that the shock of the revelation was likely too much and he had probably jumped ship. He understatedly added that if the detective didn’t come on board, “it’s going to open a fairly serious can of worms.”