IT WAS NIGHTTIME, or so Henry thought—quickly deciding it had been the sound of rain that had just nudged him awake.
He’d gotten used to the steady loud rumbling of the locomotive, the occasional screech of the steel train wheels, and the rhythmic tilt of the railcar from side to side—so it was definitely the tip-tap patter of rain that had pulled him out of his sleep.
Mmmkay. How many days now?
It was easy to lose track of time, which for Henry was both a huge and ironic understatement.
Every time he woke up—after ten hours of sleep the first night—the routine inside his head had been exactly the same. In the fogginess of fading slumber, he’d hear his mother knocking on his door, telling him Christmas breakfast was ready and, yes, that he’d need a heavier coat, and, no, he couldn’t go with Abigail Kentworth to Central Park.
He let out a sad and deep breath.
Mom.
That was the other thing he did every time he woke up: kick himself for the tone he’d used Christmas Eve when she was busy handing down the rules.
“Yes, Mom.”
“Got it, Mom.”
“Great. Perfect.”
He’d regretted it then. He regretted it even more now—being as there was nothing he could do to make things right.
She said she loved you. And the only thing you said was, “You too.” Kinda dropped the most important word there, buddy. “Love.”
A louder sheet of heavy rainfall convinced him he was awake for good. He pulled the ledger sheet from his pocket, holding it up to a crack in the boxcar—which was really more of a storage car, with forward and back doors—to steal some light.
They were all there. Every destination entry, including those now magically written in for each day of the rail trip out of New York.
July 10th, 1885,—Central Park, New York
July 10th, 1885—Telephone Exchange, Hell’s
Kitchen, New York
July 10th, 1885—Grand Central
Depot, New York
July 10th, 1885—The Vanderbilt
Mansion, New York
July 11th, 1885—The Jennings
Establishment, New York
July 12th, 1885—Pennsylvania Railroad,
In Transit
July 13th, 1885—Pennsylvania Railroad,
In Transit
July 14th, 1885—Pennsylvania Railroad,
In Transit
His eyes drifted to the upper right-hand corner. He’d picked up a pencil stub that Ernie had tossed away—privately writing down “Christmas Morning” along with the exact place he hoped Skavenger could help him find: “142 Central Park West, New York.”
“Chief’s and Gigi’s home,” Henry quietly whispered to himself.
He still had time, he knew, or at least he was still trying to convince himself; but he also knew he didn’t have forever until that last box would be filled.
That’s when it’ll turn into forever right here in good ol’ 1885. Why’d I even get up and go into Chief’s study that night?
Henry folded up the sheet and put it back, yawning and blinking his eyes. He’d slept next to a large storage box bearing the address of a Mrs. Mildred Parsons of St. Louis, Missouri. All of the address labels left were either from that city or somewhere nearby. Anyone with a trunk destined for a spot east of that had gotten off the train long ago.
“You hungry?” he heard Mattie ask. She was sitting on a box belonging to a Mr. Robert Jeremy, and she was holding up a plate of whatever she’d bought for breakfast.
Henry sat up. “Nope, not really,” he said as he stretched, not as stiff as the night before. “What time is it?” he asked.
“Still nighttime. Closer to morning, I think,” she answered. “I couldn’t sleep. Kind of a big day. I think we’re only an hour away.”
Mattie had slept through Pennsylvania, but she’d been awake through the short sliver of West Virginia, a good portion of Kentucky, and a fair share of Indiana. She nodded her head toward the pair of wooden trunks behind her, the train squeaking again as it leaned into a turn.
“Jack and Ern have been out for hours,” she said, quietly laughing. “We could run off the tracks and they’d sleep right through it.”
“Let’s not find out,” Henry said through a yawn that drew a smile out of her. “Like you said, big day ahead of us.”
He reached in his other pocket to make sure the money Vanderbilt had given them was still there—which it was—always a relief. Didn’t need to be losing a dollar of that. The last thing the rail tycoon had told them that night was that every hunter who walked through his gargantuan door had received the same amount, which meant their team had received a total of four shares.
The amount of cash Mr. The Second had given them also supported the first decision they’d made about the riddle—being as it was totally consistent with the cost of rail tickets to Missouri.
Jack, though, had tossed out the smart suggestion that they save money not just by buying cheap tickets, but by not buying any tickets at all. Better to sneak onto one of the storage cars and save almost all their money for something more important down the road.
Just in case they were wrong about the riddle.
All four had quickly agreed “gateway” meant St. Louis, giving Ernie the chance to regale them with his Central Park knowledge of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Mattie, being a big fan of Tom Sawyer, had figured out that “Natchez” was the name of a riverboat, so it was a good start on both of those fronts.
It was the last few words, however, that still had all of them stumped.
The part about the door and the key being two fathoms deep.
They all knew that “fathoms” meant water, specifically the depth of water, which, to be honest, didn’t sound too great to any of them. Was Skavenger’s next clue buried underwater? Underwater in the Mississippi River? Even worse, maybe “Natchez” wasn’t what Mattie thought it was, and instead was the town of Natchez, Mississippi.
Three long days of railroad travel to St. Louis, and they still weren’t sure.
The one stroke of good luck was that Mattie had befriended a rail porter named George, whose job was to manage not only the passenger cars in the middle of the train, but also to keep an eye on the half dozen storage cars at the back. This included the one they’d been hiding in the past few days. It was nice knowing there was someone, especially in an official capacity, who was watching out for them.
Mattie scooted a newspaper across the floor to him: the Vevay Reveille of Switzerland County, Indiana.
“Not much news about the hunt,” she said matter-of-factly, then added, “Course it is an Indiana newspaper.”
Mattie rarely sounded too overwhelmed—and certainly never worried—by where they were in the hunt. She was different from Henry in that regard.
“They did have a short article in the back about the groundskeepers at the Dakota being upset,” she chuckled. “I guess they’ve still got a few people digging around, thinking that’s where the first clue is.”
Henry pulled the paper closer.
He admired the fact that Mattie seemed unshakeable—even after he’d brought everyone up to speed about Clyde and Clifford Colton and their threatening words back at the bar. Henry had even delicately mentioned, without actually revealing Doubt’s name, the encounter behind the Vanderbilt Mansion, all with the intent of keeping the four of them on guard.
Mattie had asked George to keep an eye out for twin brothers, or anyone else who looked like they might be trouble. She’d told him to let her know if he saw anyone suspicious, no matter what time of day or night it might be. Midnight, 3:00 a.m., 5:00 a.m. Didn’t matter.
That was the other thing bothering Henry.
How is it I go back more than a hundred years in one second, but once I get here everything feels the same? Days and nights feel like they’re exactly twenty-four hours. It’s crazy.
The forward door of the storage car opened and the clanking noise of the train, along with a fresh swirl of rain, accompanied George the porter as he moved inside. He shook off the mist still clinging to him—and there was plenty of him to cling to—before wandering over to his young stowaways.
George had told them the first hour they’d met, long after he’d decided not to kick them off, that he’d been born and raised in Pittsburgh. Now in his late twenties, he was carrying on the family railroad porter tradition started by his father, who right now was working on the same train way up ahead in the luxury cars. A couple of decades earlier, he’d actually served in the 6th US Colored Infantry Regiment of the Union Army, having seen battle in Virginia and North Carolina. George had beamed with pride telling that story.
“Mornin’, you two,” the young porter cheerfully said, holding some food wrapped in a small towel. “I found some cheese up in the Parlor Car. Don’t worry, they’ll never miss it.”
“Thanks, George,” both of them said.
He waved ’em off and said, “Aw, it’s just a special treat for you kids finally gettin’ to where you’re goin’ this morning. Less than an hour now. Hopefully the sun’ll be shining by then.”
He glanced around the car. “Other young gents still sleeping?”
“They’re over there,” Mattie nodded to the other side, her eyes sticking tight to what was inside the towel. “This looks delicious. I’ll give you some money for it.”
“Noooo, it’s my pleasure, little one,” he kindly assured her. “They would have thrown it away anyway. It’s not like anyone’s stealing it.”
“It is, though, George.” Her steady smile slipped a bit. “You’re a good man for helping us out so much.”
“Won’t be the last time.” The porter winked at her and smiled.
Henry knew that Mattie had captured a big part of George’s heart. It seemed to be that way with anyone who spent time with her. It was how he felt about her too, that’s for sure.
George meandered back toward the front door, which had somehow strayed back open. He closed it with a firm shove, tight as he could, and the collection of rolling and lumbering sounds faded as he shuffled back to the passenger car ahead of them.
“I do hate thinking that,” Mattie admitted to Henry. “That we’re kinda stealing something.”
Henry folded the newspaper and set it aside. “Come on, Mattie, it’s nothing. You heard what George said.”
“It isn’t nothing,” she shook her head. “It’s what my father did. That’s why he’s in prison right now.”
It was the first time Mattie had mentioned anything to Henry about why she was here and not somewhere else. Ernie’s parents had died, he knew that much, and Jack had mentioned losing his own father.
He knew nothing about Mattie’s family, though. Until now.
“There are nine of us,” Mattie revealed. “Nine kids. And I’m the youngest. I’m the one who forced him to steal, so he could provide for all of us.”
She looked down, ashamed.
“That’s not true, you can’t think that.”
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t think, Henry Babbitt,” she said with an edge in her voice. “Mother did what she could, but . . . I think she started getting tired of being around us all the time. My older brothers and sisters . . . most of them left too. It’s hard to blame anyone, ’cept for me.”
The two of them sat in silence, the wobbling and screeching steel not accompanied by any words for a good long while.
“I figure if we can win Skavenger’s prize,” she finally spoke up again, “maybe I’ll take my share and go back.” Her eyes drifted back to Henry. “And if that doesn’t make anything better, if it’s all still a mess like it is now? I’ll find someplace else to go.”
Mattie sighed with a tone that told Henry she’d said more than she wanted. She reached for the newspaper she’d already read.
“So,” she tried putting a spark back in her voice, “what’s your big secret? You gotta have some good reason you’re doing this.”
Well, Mattie McGillin. I’d say there’s a pretty good reason I do.
But he merely looked down and smiled.
“What?” She leaned forward, suddenly curious.
“Nothing. You . . . you wouldn’t believe me.”
“I already know about your father, Henry,” she said gently. “Tell me about the rest of your family.”
The train wobbled just enough to pop the door back open a couple of inches again—an annoyance more than anything.
“Henry?” Mattie asked once more.
Instead of answering, he pushed himself up to give the door a shove that might catch. Once. Twice. But the latch stubbornly refused to hold.
“Think maybe I’ll get some fresh air,” Henry said to her, wanting to skirt the topic. “Big day ahead of us, remember?”
Mattie gave him a small smile and nodded as he walked out to the narrow open-air landing that separated the cars. After that very first day on board, it had become his favorite place on the train. He could think out here. He could remember.
There was a thin metal bar that may or may not have been able to keep someone from falling off if they really leaned up hard against it. Henry, of course, didn’t push his luck, or even come close; he always kept a more-than-safe distance.
Instead of holding the metal bar, he clasped on to the stout hook that allowed him to lean out enough so his face could feel the wind and he could watch the night-darkened landscape whip by.
It wasn’t quite the same as flying—not in the way Henry imagined it felt for Superman—but it sure did feel good.
Really good.
The dark black of Missouri’s dying night was now resting on a rising line of light blue behind them. Sunrise was coming fast, he could tell. The heavy rain that had awakened him was also starting its retreat.
It was out here—over the last three days—that Henry allowed himself, in the spare few moments when he wasn’t thinking of his family, to think about the hunt.
And there was plenty to think about.
If only you could be here, Chief. All those riddles you and Dad looked for? I’ve been solvin’ ’em! Wait’ll you see that ledger sheet of yours.
He smiled as he leaned a bit farther out and looked back toward the horizon’s oncoming morning.
Also, I’m pretty sure I’ve been hanging with your grandfather. Jack. We went to Grand Central. Nope, not the station—Grand Central Depot! They had railroad tracks running right down the middle of Park Avenue!
Oh, and how ’bout this? I got to meet Cornelius Vanderbilt the Second—in his mansion! The one on 5th Avenue. How great is that?
Henry smiled and sighed.
Maybe someday I’ll get to tell you about it. About everything. If I actually make it back.
Henry looked off to his right to see the distant locomotive, dozens of cars ahead of him, crawling into view. Its tail of steam churned high and flat as the train curved into the last stretch before St. Louis.
Almost there.
Just a few more minut—
And that’s when he saw one of them.
Up ahead . . . impossibly . . . on the train . . . outside of it.
No. No, no, no, no, it can’t . . .
Henry blinked to make sure. Then blinked again. It took a few seconds as his eyes adjusted before he was totally convinced.
Oh no.
Standing between two of the passenger cars . . . far, far ahead of Henry, on the same type of landing on which he stood, loomed one of Hiram Doubt’s Dark Men.
The man, wearing his familiar top hat and longcoat, stood on the metal deck over the coupling. A surge of panic rushed into Henry’s head as he watched.
Watched the Dark Man—who was watching him.
No. They can’t be here, they can’t be.
Henry realized he wasn’t breathing and forced himself to inhale. That was followed by what seemed like a hundred more shallow breaths—all coming too close to each other.
The powerful locomotive rumbled forward, and with each churn of gray and white steam, another passenger car would slowly come into view as the lazy, long turn continued toward St. Louis.
Please let him be the only one. Don’t let the others be here. Please don’t let Doubt be here.
Henry couldn’t help but look and wait for the next railcar to appear, already knowing deep in the pit of his stomach that the one man might not be the only—
He saw the next one.
There.
No. No, no. He sees me too.
The second Dark Man was closer and just as ominous as he stood between another pair of the forward passenger railcars. Henry leaned back, but not enough to avoid seeing the third of Doubt’s men—and then, closest and worst of all, the fourth:
Grace.
The one who had drawn close to him, like a specter, at the Vanderbilt Estate.
The four men remained nothing more than dark silhouettes, but there was no doubt in Henry’s mind as to who they were and why they were on the train.
The only doubt he felt was Doubt himself, because the presence of the Dark Men meant . . .
Doubt’s probably here. Right here on the train.
A shudder trickled down Henry’s back. If Hiram Doubt knew that he was on the train as well, he also knew they were closing in on the next of Skavenger’s clues.
He’ll want to know what I know.
Henry remembered Doubt’s words as clearly as the night he’d heard them spoken:
When I ask you for the answer to that riddle?
You. Will. Tell. Me.
The top of the sun broke above the horizon far, far behind the train, and it was almost as if in that single second, the light itself grew much brighter—enough to illuminate the image that Henry knew would be visiting his nightmares.
One by one, with the most distant Dark Man making his move first, Doubt’s men disappeared back into the train, with what could be only one destination in mind.
They’re coming for me.
Henry leaned out to take another look, still holding the stout hook tightly. Three of Doubt’s men were already gone—out of sight, now on board the train.
But Grace still stood outside the railcar on the landing. Only a half dozen cars away from him.
And as sure as Henry was of anything he’d ever seen in his life, he watched as Doubt’s elegant henchman looked straight into his soul, silently mouthing that one single word:
“Soooooooooooon.”
Henry stumbled backward and then turned toward the door of the storage car, which was—
Still open! They’re gonna walk right in!
He dashed through the opening. Jack and Ernie were now awake as Henry tripped and crashed onto the floor right in front of them. He scrambled to his feet and quickly tried to close the sliding door.
Click clunk click clunk click clunk.
The door wouldn’t catch. Not a single time. Sliding back not just open—but wide open.
“Henry?” Mattie pushed herself off Mr. Jeremy’s wardrobe box. She took a step toward Henry, a worried look on her face.
“Holy smokes, Babbitt, what are ya tryin’ to do?” Jack laughed, until he saw the look of overwhelming terror that Henry knew had to be in his eyes.
The young hunter had been able to somewhat hide that expression after his first run-in with Doubt’s men, but he wasn’t able to conceal it now.
Door! Door!
“Cripes, pal,” Ernie said with growing concern. “You almost fall off the train?”
“No,” Henry answered with a wavering voice, anxiously looking all around. He spotted a nearby storage trunk.
“Help me push this. We gotta block the door, c’mon!” He whipped over to the padlocked wooden box and leaned into it hard.
“Why? What the heck for?” Jack held his hands out wide, looking more and more confused by the second.
“They’re coming!” Henry answered him, giving Jack a look that assured him this wasn’t a false alarm. “I said NOW!” he yelled for good measure.
“Come on, Ern!” a more-than-convinced Jack shouted to Ernie. The two of them rushed over to help, while Mattie stayed put, looking more and more unsettled by the second. All three boys leaned their shoulders against the trunk and gave it a strong push. It began to move, but only by a foot or two.
“How many hundreds of dresses are in this thing?” Jack wondered out loud.
Henry knew they had to be getting close to St. Louis—close enough there wouldn’t be any more passenger stops before they reached that final station. Very, very . . .
Soooooooooooooooon.
He closed his eyes, shoving with all his strength against the enormous trunk, the one he knew from that first day on the train held the wardrobe of a woman named Meredith Winningham.
The train’s steam engine started to throttle down; still loud, but not loud enough to muffle Mattie’s next words. Words of sickening realization that chilled Henry to his very core.
“It’s them, isn’t it?” she said.
The three boys turned as one. For the first time since Henry had met her, he could tell she was terrified.
“They’re on the train with us, aren’t they?” Mattie asked with a trembling voice. “All of them.”
Jack pushed himself away from the trunk. “Who’s on the train with us?”
“Hiram Doubt,” she answered, her eyes moving to the open and now banging door. “Doubt and the others. I saw ’em at the Vanderbilts’ before you got there that night.”
She looked back at Henry with fearful eyes. “That’s who you were warning us about, wasn’t it? The ones you said you saw.”
Jack spun around to Henry. “Hiram Doubt’s on this train?! Right now?!”
Henry swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. They all are.”
Now it was Ernie’s turn to panic. “Oh, no, no, no, no. You don’t think he knows what we’re doin’, do you? He couldn’t know that, could he?”
Henry wasn’t sure what he should say. He really didn’t need to say anything—his own silence more than answering Ernie’s question. The only sound they could hear at that moment was coming from the railcar door, which was still thumping open and shut.
Open . . . and shut. Open . . .
“We gotta get off this train.” Jack was already looking around for a way to do just that.
“We can’t get off this train, Jack!” Ernie somehow had the sense to know. “We’re going too fast!”
The locomotive’s breathing was beginning to slow, but its steel wheels were still sprinting. Ernie was right. They were going too fast. St. Louis was close, but the Dark Men would get to them before they got there.
“How many storage cars behind us?” Jack quickly asked anyone who might know.
“Eight,” Mattie answered him.
“How many cars ahead you think these goons are?” He looked at Henry now.
“Three, maybe four.”
Jack shook his head. “Okay,” he told them all. “Let’s head to the back of this thing.”
The most immediate problem they discovered with the storage car just behind them was that it no longer stored anything. It was empty. Dead and completely empty. The big trunks and various wooden shipping containers that had been there just a day before were now gone.
The only thing left was fifty-five feet of open and uninviting space without a single spot for the four of them to hide.
“Keep going! Keep going!” Mattie yelled out as she ran through the middle of empty nothingness, the rest of them running right alongside of her.
Except for Henry, who had just stopped and turned.
“Wait, hold on.” He rushed back to the sliding forward door to see if it might lock, unlike the broken one on the car they’d just abandoned.
Henry leaned into it.
Click. Click. Click.
No grab, no lock. He gave a quick glance through the stubborn door, still open, not wanting to see an approaching black hat. For the moment, there was nothing up there—just the familiar lazy motion of the broken door on that car opening and closing.
Which was better than the one Henry was currently struggling with. It was refusing to latch at all.
“Henry! COME ON!” Ernie yelled for him to leave it. Better to run. He turned and did just that, following them through the open door into the next storage car—finding that it too was empty.
The rhythmic sound of the steam engine now seemed to match the blistering pace of Henry’s heart.
Chikuh chikuh chikuh chikuh chikuh chikuh—
He stopped to give the door on the next car a quick try too. Jack doubled back to help, pulling on it from one side while Henry pushed.
Thump. Thump. Thump. The door hinted that it was almost ready to latch, almost ready to give them at least a small measure of protection. But—
Nothing. Whatta ya gotta do to close these things?
Mattie ran back to them, panicked urgency in her voice as she yelled, “Henry! Jack! HURRY! We gotta keep moving!”
Thump. Thump. The door still wouldn’t grab.
Chikuh chikuh chikuh chikuh.
Ernie ran back to the door, even though there wasn’t much he could do—nothing except steal a look through the opening.
“Henry . . .” he said with a shallow and failing voice.
The way he said it put an end to both Henry’s and Jack’s efforts to get the door, to get any door, to latch and to lock. Instead, they looked at Ernie as he nodded toward what he’d just seen.
“Look.”
All four of them did.
There, just beyond the first of the open doors two cars behind them, on the landing over the coupling, stood Grace. Though it was still lightly raining, a menacing smile began to grow on his spiteful face, made worse by his cold blue eyes and chilling black longcoat.
“Oh no,” Ernie said in a voice that could barely be heard. “No, no, no, no.”
With a smooth motion that gave credence to his name, Grace slowly eased the door open and began to walk toward them . . . right in the very same moment that the door the four of them had been pinning their hopes on finally closed and latched.
Click.
“YES! Let’s go! Let’s go!” Henry yelled, and the three boys spun around to run to the next car. Mattie, though, couldn’t take her eyes off the gloomy, threatening man now headed her way. Couldn’t move . . . until Henry hurried back for her.
“Mattie! Now!” He reached for her arm and pulled, enough to get her to turn and run again.
Chikuh chikuh chikuh chikuh.
The four of them raced into the next car, seeing right away that it was half-filled with wardrobe trunks and other boxes. Better, Henry knew, but not enough to hide all of them.
And what do we even do if there is enough?
The foursome of frantic hunters burst into yet another storage car, finally discovering dozens and dozens of massive trunks and upright boxes. All were positioned in a haphazard manner, which meant there should be nooks and pockets and lots of areas where they could hide.
But if the lock back there doesn’t hold, Grace is still gonna have all the time he needs to find us. George . . . c’mon . . . where are you? We could use some help down here.
“Wait!” Jack shouted before turning back, retreating to the car that was half-full of boxes.
“WHATTA YA DOIN’??!!” Ernie reached for him, but he was too late. Jack was already back in the car—the car closer to the Dark Man.
He had something in mind, Henry could tell. He even rushed back himself to find out. Without a second of hesitation, Jack hurried over to the large side door of the car, the one the porters and luggage crews used to offload the boxes at any given stop. He unlatched the door and pulled it open with ease.
Blurring landscape whipped by outside the train.
“Jack!!! NO!” Mattie yelled out.
“Don’t worry!” he called back as he wedged the door open with a stray piece of wood from the floor. “We’re gonna jump off without jumping off!”
And with that, at about four minutes after sunrise, Jack had just tossed in the opening bet on the only hand of cards they had left to play. Bluffed it, really. He turned and ran back into the railcar that offered them the nooks and pockets and the areas to hide with his three fellow hunters dashing in just behind him.
Chikuh chikuh chikuh chikuh chikuh chikuh chikuh . . .
Nine minutes after sunrise.
Chiikuuh chiikuh chiikuh chiikuh chiikuh . . .
Fourteen minutes after sunrise.
Chiiiikuuuuh chiiiikuuuuh chiiiikuuuuh chiiiikuuuuh . . .
Twenty minutes after sunrise, the train had clearly begun to slow. It felt like two hours had gone by, but the four of them knew it had been only minutes.
Twenty unbearably long and nerve-racking minutes.
Henry’s best guess, and it was only a guess, based strictly on the sluggish swaying of the train and the slowing steam belch from the locomotive, was that they were covering the final mile or two before their last stop on the east side of the Mississippi River.
East of St. Louis. Gateway to the West.
And in between the slowing chug of the coal-driven engine, and the whoosh of steam billowing into the air, the only other sound had been . . .
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
Which was more than unsettling in itself.
It had already been at least a few minutes since they’d found the perfect cavern deep within the haphazardly stacked boxes in the storage car. All four of them had quickly wriggled their way in, knowing they’d completely disappeared from view, trying their best to stay quiet.
Which wasn’t easy.
All they could do was look at each other with eyes trying to say what they were thinking. Henry and Mattie had already shared about a hundred glances.
It was the waiting, of course. The wondering where the Dark Men were and why they were even there.
“When’s George gonna get here?” Mattie finally asked with a faint voice lower than a whisper. “He has to know we’re not up there, doesn’t he?”
“You think George is gonna be able to do anything?” Ernie raised his eyebrows as he whispered back. The look she returned didn’t exactly scream confidence.
Jack stayed quiet, content just to shake his head and let out a deep breath. Just seeing him slightly uncertain was enough to concern Henry.
“What are we gonna do when the train stops?” Henry asked him. “They’re gonna be out there waiting for us.”
Jack still didn’t say anything, nor did anyone else. Silence, it seemed, was the only plan any of them had right now—though Henry knew they’d have to come up with a better one soon.
“Maybe they couldn’t get through the door?” Mattie asked hopefully. “You did get it locked.”
“Fat chance of that,” Jack finally whispered.
Chiiiiiiiikuuuuuuuuh . . . Chiiiiiiiikuuuuuuuuh . . .
The steel wheels were beginning to screech a bit more loudly, signaling that a full stop was fairly imminent.
“Jack?” Henry asked, but got nothing in return. “Jack, c’mon!” he tried whispering a little louder. “What do we do?”
“The four of you leave very soooooooooooooooon . . . that’sss what you do.”
A cold and icy voice answered Henry from the other side of the storage boxes behind which they were hiding. They all gasped in unison. None of them had heard a sound since they’d hidden in the small mountain of large boxes, yet here the man was, unseen but right there in the same car as them.
He’d known precisely where they were. Had gotten through the locked door, past Jack’s open-door diversion, without making even a hint of noise. From the closeness of his voice, Henry guessed, the Dark Man was no more than three feet away from him.
“Pleassse, please,” Grace’s scratchy voice continued. “None of you have anything to fear . . . at leassst not for now.”
Ernie and Mattie squeezed their eyes closed, much like Henry had tried to do so many times during the worst of his nightmares.
“You ssssssee,” Grace hissed almost softly, his face unseen. “Mr. Doubt right now is already ahead of you, on his way at this moment to ssseize Skavenger’s next clue.”
Henry hadn’t moved in minutes, but he was still breathing too quickly. He shared a quick glance with Jack, waiting for whatever they might hear next.
“And . . . in the extreme unlikelihood,” the voice continued, “that his guesssss turns out to be incorrect, the four of usssss will be following . . . the four of you. In case your assumption proves more accurate.”
Mattie’s eyes lifted toward Henry and she silently mouthed the words, “They’re all there? Right now?”
From the other side of their hiding spot, Grace answered her as if she’d stood up and shouted the question.
“Yessss, dear,” his words slid through the creases of the wardrobe trunks. “We are.”
A second later, they heard the sound of four quiet but very distinct taps on four boxes—enough distance separating them that they could only have come from four men.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.
Now it was Henry’s turn to close his eyes, not knowing if any of the rest of them were doing the same. Not caring. Just wanting Grace to finish whatever he needed to say—wanting to avoid the nightmare of seeing him.
“Ssssstill there?” Grace asked. “Because that’s what the four of us are about to be for the rest of your journey. Sssstill here. Not gone. Never gone.”
Henry opened his eyes just in time to see Jack look his way, shaking his head at the Dark Man’s words.
“Good luck, young hunters,” the scratching and hissing voice went on. “Don’t bother trying to look for ussss. Just be content to know that we will be watching you. Every minute of however many days you might have left.”
C h i i i i i i i i i i k u u u u u u u u u u h chiiiiiiiiii—whoooooooooooooosh—
WHUMP.
The train stopped, but not before Henry finally heard the sound of the quartet of Dark Men slowly walking away. Wanting to be heard, it seemed. Before they were gone, though, Grace offered them all one last message:
“Welcome to Ssssssaint Louisssss.”