The Mysterious Benedict Society

“But you won’t stand a chance! You’re injured, and they’ll be ready for you! Mr. Curtain will —”

The distraught girl was interrupted by the boat’s rushing up onto sandy shore. Before she could continue, Number Two had carried her off to the waiting station wagon. The others quickly followed, and soon Rhonda Kazembe was cranking the ignition and pulling the car onto the road. Milligan sat near an open window with his tranquilizer gun at the ready. “Just drop me near the bridge guardhouse,” he directed Rhonda, “then take the children away.”

“But Milligan,” asked Sticky, “how will you escape? For that matter, how did you ever escape in the first place? I remember that Waiting Room — there was no way out!”

“No way but down,” Milligan replied. “I eventually realized that where there’s mud, there’s water, so an underground stream must run somewhere below the room.”

“But . . . but how?”

“No great matter,” Milligan said. “I had only to hold my breath a few minutes to dig down through the mud into the stream, drag myself upstream, then dig through more mud and, oh, about a foot of clay. After that it was only a question of tearing out a few stones, prying apart a few boards, chiseling out some mortar, bending the bars of a metal grate enough to squeeze through (that’s how I broke my arm), then incapacitating the guards and using their keys to unlock my shackles. Really, it’s quite simple once you know the trick.”

The children blinked.

“More remarkable,” Milligan went on, in a voice so happy he almost sang, “more remarkable by far was what happened while I was doing it. Down there in the mud, holding my breath and digging away, I realized that the feeling I had — that I must get back to you children, that I must reach you no matter what the cost — was exactly the same feeling I’d had when I first awoke out of blackness years ago with the name ‘Milligan’ ringing in my mind. Thinking of this, I realized for the first time that it was a child’s voice that had been saying my name. And just as this realization struck me, so too did the cold waters of the underground stream, and into my mind flashed an image of a mill pond, a lovely place perfect for swimming. I could picture a girl swimming in that pond — so young it was hard to believe she could swim at all, much less splash and dive about like an otter — and in my mind’s eye I drew her near to me, heard her laughing, and, as I took her hand to lead her home, heard her ask me, ‘Daddy, may we come to the mill again?’ To which I replied, ‘Of course, Katie-Cat. Of course we’ll come to the mill again.’

“Mill again — Milligan. Do you see? It wasn’t my name at all. It was my last, unkept promise to my daughter. I had only to realize this, and all of my other memories came flooding back. The best moment of my life,” he finished, with an affectionate look at Kate beside him.

Kate was trying to fight back tears and failing miserably. The station wagon was approaching the island bridge now. She’d been so thrilled to get her father back. Was she really expected to give him up again to another dangerous mission? Not just dangerous — hopeless. No, she wouldn’t have it, and with a ferocity that surprised even her she declared, “You can’t go, Milligan! I won’t let you! How can you possibly leave me again?”

Milligan flinched as if he’d been stung, his own eyes suddenly brimming with tears. “Oh, Katie, it’s the last thing I want to do, but how can I possibly leave Mr. Benedict? Without him we’d never have been reunited!”

“Then I’m going with you!”

“No, no, that would never do!”

“It will have to do!” Kate retorted fiercely as Number Two stopped the car near the guardhouse.

“Hush, both of you!” cried Reynie, surprising everyone. He was pointing at the bridge, upon which now Mr. Curtain could be seen in his wheelchair racing toward them. An entire troop of Recruiters ran alongside him, shaking their cuffs, their shock-watches glinting in the sunlight. The rocketing wheelchair zigzagged recklessly, forcing the Recruiters to jump this way and that to avoid being knocked aside, and the two Recruiters in the guardhouse (who must have radioed the island the moment they spotted the station wagon) had come out to stare first at Mr. Curtain, then at the car, uncertain what was expected of them.

“Kate, I love you, but you must leave with the others!” Milligan commanded. He reached for the door handle. “Rhonda, see that she does. I’ll lure them off by heading back for the boat. Perhaps I can cut behind them. Number Two, drive like a fiend and never look back!”

“No!” Reynie shouted, just as forcefully, and Milligan checked himself with a start. “Stay put, Milligan! Number Two, don’t drive away. Just trust me. Please trust me. We have to wait and see!”

It was a tense moment. And a curious one, too — for every person in the car, adult and child alike, realized just then that they trusted this eleven-year-old boy quite without reservation. If Reynie Muldoon asked them to do something, if he promised them something, they would do what he asked and believe every word.

Number Two looked at Milligan, who looked back at her.

He nodded. She nodded. They waited.

At the near end of the bridge Mr. Curtain came to a sudden screeching stop in his wheelchair — so sudden that he almost flew out of it, despite the straps — pointed at the station wagon, and cried, “It’s a trick! Those are decoys! The others must still be on the island!”

The Recruiters were scratching their heads. “But, sir,” one of them protested mildly, “they look just like the ones we’re after!”

“Fool!” Mr. Curtain shouted in his most terrible voice. “Do you really believe they would escape the island only to come right back to the bridge? These people are meant to distract us. Back to the island at once! That’s an order!”

The Recruiters flinched and spun on their heels.

“You, too!” he snarled at the Recruiters in the guardhouse. “Forget the decoys! We need all hands on the island!”

The Recruiters saluted uncertainly and left their posts, hurrying to catch up with the others. For a moment Mr. Curtain watched them go. Then, quickly unstrapping himself, he rose from the chair and trotted toward the station wagon.

“What’s he doing?” Rhonda said.