teeth, washing away his mane of splinters, and shaking his limbs apart at the joints. Reduced to a living litter of flotsam and jetsam, he was drawn into the white waters at the whirlpool’s heart, and shrieking with rage, went where all evil must go at last: into nothingness.
On the shore Harvey put his arms around Lulu, laughing and sobbing at the same time.
“We did it…” he said.
“Did what?” said a voice at their backs, and they looked around to see Wendell wandering toward them, blithe as ever. Every article of clothing he’d found in the rubble was either too large or too small.
“What’s been going on?” he wanted to know. “What are you laughing at? What are you crying for?” He looked beyond Harvey and Lulu, in time to see the last fragments of Hood’s body disappear with a fading howl. “And what was that?” he demanded.
Harvey wiped the tears from his cheeks, and got to his feet. At last, he had a purpose for Wendell’s perpetual reply.
“Who cares?” he said.
XXVI. Living Proof
The wall of mist still hovered at the edge of Hood’s domain, and it was there that the survivors gathered to say their farewells. None quite knew what adventures lay on the other side of the mist, of course. Each of the children had come into the House from a different year. Would they all find that age—give or take a month or two —awaiting them on the other side?
“Even if we don’t get the stolen years back,” Lulu said as they prepared to step into the mist, “we’re free because of you, Harvey.”
There were murmurs of thanks from the little crowd, and a few grateful tears.
“Say something,” Wendell hissed to Harvey.
“Why?”
“Because you’re a hero.”
“I don’t feel like one.”
“So tell them that.”
Harvey raised his hands to hush the murmurs. “I just want to say…we’ll probably all forget about being here in a little while…” A few of the children said: no me won’t; or, we’ll always remember you. But Harvey insisted: “We will,” he said. “We’ll grow up and we’ll forget. Unless…”
“Unless what?” asked Lulu.
“Unless we remind ourselves every morning. Or make a story of it, and tell everyone we meet.”
“They won’t believe us,” said one of the children.
“That doesn’t matter,” said Harvey. “We’ll know it’s true, and that’s what counts.”
This met with approval from all sides.
“Now let’s go home,” said Harvey. “We’ve wasted too much time here already.”
Wendell nudged him in the ribs as the group dispersed. “What about telling them you’re not a hero?” he said.
“Oh, yeah,” said Harvey with a mischievous smile. “I forgot about that.”
The first of the children were already braving the wall of mist, eager to put the horrors of Hood’s prison behind them as soon as possible. Harvey watched them fading with every step they took, and wished he’d had a moment to talk to them; to find out who they were and why they’d wandered into Hood’s grip. Had they been orphans, with no other place to call home; or runaways, like Wendell and Lulu; or simply bored with their lives, the way he’d been bored, and seduced by illusions?
He would never know. They were disappearing one by one, until there was only Lulu, Wendell and himself left on the inside of the wall.
“Well,” Wendell said to Harvey, “if time really is set to rights out there, then I’m going back a few more years than you.”
“That’s true.”
“If we meet again, I’m going to be a lot older. You may not even know me.”
“I’ll know you,” Harvey said.
“Promise?” said Wendell.
“I promise.”
With that they shook hands, and Wendell made his departure into the mist. He was gone in three strides.
Lulu sighed heavily. “Have you ever wanted two things at the same time,” she asked Harvey, “but you knew you couldn’t have both of them?”
“Once or twice,” said Harvey. “Why?”
“Because I’d like to grow up with you, and be your friend,” she replied, “but I also want to go home. And I think in the year that’s waiting for me on the other side of that wall, you haven’t even been born.”
Harvey nodded sadly, glancing back toward the ruins. “I guess we do have one thing to thank Hood for.”
“What’s that?”
“We were children together,” he said, taking hold of her hand. “At least for a little while.”
Lulu tried to smile, but her eyes were full of tears.
“Let’s go together as far as we can,” Harvey said.
“Yes, I’d like that,” Lulu replied, and hand in hand they walked toward the wall. At the last moment before the mist eclipsed them they looked around at each other, and Harvey said: “Home…”
Then they stepped into the wall. For the first stride he felt Lulu’s hand in his, but by the second stride it had grown faint, and by the third—when he stepped out into the street it and she had gone completely, delivered back into the time from which she’d stepped, all those seasons ago.
Harvey looked up at the sky. The sun had set, but its pinkish light still found the ribs of cloud laid high above him. The wind was gusty, and chilled the sweat of fear and exertion on his face and spine.
Teeth chattering, he started home through the darkening streets, uncertain what awaited him.
It was strange that after so many victories the simple business of walking home should defeat him, but defeat him it did. After an hour of wandering, his wits and strength which had preserved him from every terror Hood could conjure—failed him. His head began to spin, his legs buckled beneath him, and he fell down on the sidewalk, exhausted.
Luckily two passersby took pity on him, and gently asked him where he lived. It was dangerous, he vaguely recalled, to trust his life to total strangers, but he had no choice. All he could do was give himself over to their care, and hope that the world he’d returned to still had a little kindness in it.
He woke in darkness, and for one heartstopping moment he thought the black lake had claimed him after all, and he was down in its depths, a prisoner.
Crying out in terror he sat up, and to his infinite relief saw the window at the bottom of his bed, the curtains slightly parted, and heard the light patter of rain upon the sill. He was home.
He swung his legs out of bed and stood up. His whole body ached as though he’d gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer, but he was strong enough to hobble to the door and open it.
The sound of two familiar voices drifted up from the bottom of the stairs.
“I’m just happy he’s home,” he heard his mom say.
“So am I,” said his dad. “But we need some explanations.”
“We’ll get them,” his mom went on. “But we shouldn’t push him too hard.”
Clinging to the banisters as he went, Harvey started down the stairs, while his mom and dad continued to talk.
“We need to find out the truth quickly,” his father said. “I mean, suppose he was involved with something
