IT WAS NINE DAYS AFTER THE RIFT’S REPAIR. WHEN AMY didn’t find Archer at his home, she knew just where to look.
“Shame I can’t fly, though,” she muttered as she ran in the direction of Scoville Manor. That wasn’t the only thing that she missed. The enormous castle Kaylie and Rigby had erected was gone now. It was just a big, old regular mansion. Amy rang the doorbell.
Archer and Kaylie answered the door a few moments later. “Amy!” Kaylie cried, leaping to embrace her friend.
Archer grinned. “It’s good to see you, Amy. How’s your mom holding up?”
Amy pulled away from Kaylie. “She’s doing well. Just like most folks, there are a lot of strange memories to tease out. At least the nausea’s gone at last.”
“C’mon,” Kaylie said, taking Amy’s hand. “Come see the animals.”
As the three took to the basement stairs, Amy asked, “So are you and Kaylie just moving in here now?”
Archer laughed. “No, no,” he said. “My dad won’t let us, but I’ve asked Nick and his little brother, Oliver, if they would consider it. It’s a long way from Australia, but it would be kind of convenient to have all three Dreamtreaders in the same general area. I’m hoping they’ll make the move. Someone’s got to take care of all these critters.”
The three of them set about feeding, watering, and cleaning up after the zoo’s residents. Archer did his circuit with Dr. Who perched on his shoulder just like old times. No one spoke much during the work, but when they reached the bottom of the basement stairs, they paused.
“I kinda wish Uncle Scovy was still here,” Kaylie said.
“You mean Doctor Scoville, don’t you?” Amy asked.
“That’s probably best,” Kaylie agreed, staring at the door at the bottom of the stairs. “But he turned good in the end, didn’t he? I mean, he gave his life to help get the Rift turned around.”
“That’s right,” Archer said, starting slowly up the stairs. “He did good . . . in the end.”
“What about Rigby?” Amy whispered. “Anything yet?”
Archer shook his head. “Kara searched everywhere in the Dream Inc. building before the FBI took her away. She told me there was a pretty serious bloodstain but no body. Odd thing though: Kara said piles of ash were down there. Piles and piles of ash, spread all over but most numerous around the bloodstain. If the Scath took Rigby out, I’m thinking he took a bunch of them with him.”
Back upstairs, the trio collapsed into chairs at Rigby’s kitchen table. “I’m tired,” Kaylie said, the words spoken through her yawn. “I don’t know how I’m going to Dreamtread tonight.”
“You’ll be asleep, silly,” Amy said.
“Right, right,” Kaylie said. “Good thing.”
“Is it bad . . . in the Dream, I mean?” Amy asked.
“We’ve seen worse,” Archer replied with a dry chuckle. “But, yeah, repairing the Rift left the Dream in kind of a semi-shredded state. We’ve been fixing breaches and weaving up support threads constantly.”
“Kind of like here,” Amy replied. “I can’t even watch the news anymore. Too much sadness. There was so much destruction, Archer. So many people’s lives just ruined.”
“What did the FBI do with Kara?” Kaylie asked.
“I don’t know,” Archer replied. “She’s admitted to everything, but I hear they’re calling it some kind of terrorist attack . . . like Dream Inc. just gassed everyone into some kind of mass delusion.”
Kaylie raised her eyebrows. “In the world?”
“Well,” Archer said, “is it any more farfetched than Lucid Dreaming? The Rift? Any of it?”
Amy shook her head. “We’ve all got a lot of healing to do,” she said. “Yep.”
When Archer and Kaylie came home, Mr. Keaton and Buster had just finished setting the table. They’d eaten a marvelous lasagna dinner in silence, but, as always over the last week and a half, they had exchanged many smiles.
Archer thought his father was doing well, considering the circumstances. The end of the Rift meant the end of his time with his wife. It were almost as if she had died all over again. But he’d gone back to his workshop and started making the wells again. He was even teaching Buster how to do some things in the wood shop. Of course, Buster wanted to make a surf board first, but he’d have to learn the basics before he got into that.
Archer asked to be excused before dessert was served. As he was leaving the kitchen, he heard his father’s voice. “Hey, son, you know those new statues, you know, the new ones near the Jesus statue in Rio?”
“Yeah,” Archer said. “What about them?”
“Well, one of them,” Mr. Keaton said, “and I know this is going to sound crazy, but they were doing a show on them, and . . . well . . . I could swear one of the statues looked like your friend Rigby’s uncle.”
“That’s not crazy, Dad,” Archer said. “I see the resemblance too.”
“Funny thing,” Mr. Keaton said, “someone’s been leaving big bunches of flowers at the foot of that statue. Not as many flowers as the Jesus statue gets, but still. Funny, huh?”
Archer shrugged and headed for the carport door. The winter air was back in full force, and it was going to be a cold night. Archer didn’t mind it so much. He went through the backyard gate and tromped down to the wishing well.
He knelt on the frozen ground and put his head against the stone of the well. “Mom, I miss you,” he said. “But in a way, I’m grateful I got to see you again . . . even if it wasn’t real.” Then his words trailed off, and the rest of the conversation took place in his mind in a prayer. God,he thought, please take care of my mother . . . and all those who died during the Rift. And please help us never to lose our anchors . . . ever again.