children.”
Dad eyed him, uncertain. Finally he offered a faint smile. “Shakespeare said, ‘A scar nobly got is honorable.’ ” He shrugged. “Something like that.”
Xander rubbed his head. “I say, a scar nobly got hurts .”
CHAPTER
eleven
THURSDAY, 6:58 P.M.
Keal kept pummeling the same square stone. Little chips in the shape of tiny smiles eventually became a fist-sized indent. Finally a crack appeared, running from the hammer’s damage to a corner.
Keal leaned in. He ran a palm over his eyes, brow, and head, squeegeeing away beads of sweat.
“It’s giving up,” he said. He had begun to think of the wall as an opponent. It was strong and stubborn, but so was he. He looked back at Toria with a winning grin. “First a crack, then a stone, then the whole wall, right?”
“It cracked, Dae!” she yelled.
His muffled voice came back: “Yah!”
Keal hefted the hammer, reared back, and slammed it into the stone. He did it again and again, without pause. His breathing fell in sync with his efforts: a sharp inhale as he pulled back, a loud grunt on the forward swing. Sweat flew off his head, sparkling in the flashlight’s beam.
The stone crumbled, dust and chunks spilling to the floor.
Toria rushed in to light the gap. Eight inches in, another stone showed its flat, resilient face. The wall was at least two blocks thick. She moaned.
“No, no,” Keal said. “It’ll be easy now. Once you get one block out of a wall like this, the others have room to shift. They’ll start falling away in no time. You’ll see.”
He was right: the block above its crumbled neighbor chipped, broke, and fell away after only four strikes. When the first layer’s opening was four blocks wide and four blocks tall—a square about the size of a television screen—Keal started pounding on the second layer.
“Dust!” David said, no longer sounding like he was talking into a pillow. “And that was loud, really loud.”
“Cover up,” Keal yelled back, taking aim. “For real this time.”
Three more hits and a block pushed in, three inches from the surface of the blocks on either side of it.
“I felt it!” David screamed. “It moved.”
“Back away, David!”
The next strike sent it sailing into the darkness behind it.
“Ow!” David said. Then: “Let there be light!”
Toria charged up to the wall. The flashlight beam wavered around the square hole and slipped into the blackness beyond.
David’s face appeared, smiling, squinting against the brightness. He laughed.
“Dae!” Toria chimed.
“Where are we?” David said.
Keal and Toria looked at each other. Keal said, “You’re home, son. In the house.”
“The basement,” Toria added.
David closed his eyes. “I should have known.” His lids flipped opened and looked past Toria at the walls and exposed trusses. “I thought I was back in time somewhere—but how could that happen from Taksidian’s house? It’s just that I found the other side first. Like if we’d discovered the locker-linen closet portal from the locker side. It’s still not the locker doing it, it’s the house. It’s always the house.”
“What are you talking about?” Toria said. “How’d you get in there?”
“I’ll explain later,” he said. His eyes found Keal. “Just get me out . . . please .”
“What’s in there?” Keal asked.
“Nothing. Bones .”
“Bones?” Toria said.
“Human bones,” David continued. “Skeletons. But most of them are broken up, ground down to nothing. Gravel.”
“Eeeew!”
“I thought for sure,” David said, “that my bones would wind up in here too, lying on top until someone else got trapped and tromped me into dust.”
Toria touched her fingers to his cheek. He reached his hand out, and she took it.
“Okay,” Keal said. “Back off. We’ll have your bones out of there in a flash.” He lifted the hammer.
The kids released their hands, and David’s disappeared into the
Dad eyed him, uncertain. Finally he offered a faint smile. “Shakespeare said, ‘A scar nobly got is honorable.’ ” He shrugged. “Something like that.”
Xander rubbed his head. “I say, a scar nobly got hurts .”
CHAPTER
eleven
THURSDAY, 6:58 P.M.
Keal kept pummeling the same square stone. Little chips in the shape of tiny smiles eventually became a fist-sized indent. Finally a crack appeared, running from the hammer’s damage to a corner.
Keal leaned in. He ran a palm over his eyes, brow, and head, squeegeeing away beads of sweat.
“It’s giving up,” he said. He had begun to think of the wall as an opponent. It was strong and stubborn, but so was he. He looked back at Toria with a winning grin. “First a crack, then a stone, then the whole wall, right?”
“It cracked, Dae!” she yelled.
His muffled voice came back: “Yah!”
Keal hefted the hammer, reared back, and slammed it into the stone. He did it again and again, without pause. His breathing fell in sync with his efforts: a sharp inhale as he pulled back, a loud grunt on the forward swing. Sweat flew off his head, sparkling in the flashlight’s beam.
The stone crumbled, dust and chunks spilling to the floor.
Toria rushed in to light the gap. Eight inches in, another stone showed its flat, resilient face. The wall was at least two blocks thick. She moaned.
“No, no,” Keal said. “It’ll be easy now. Once you get one block out of a wall like this, the others have room to shift. They’ll start falling away in no time. You’ll see.”
He was right: the block above its crumbled neighbor chipped, broke, and fell away after only four strikes. When the first layer’s opening was four blocks wide and four blocks tall—a square about the size of a television screen—Keal started pounding on the second layer.
“Dust!” David said, no longer sounding like he was talking into a pillow. “And that was loud, really loud.”
“Cover up,” Keal yelled back, taking aim. “For real this time.”
Three more hits and a block pushed in, three inches from the surface of the blocks on either side of it.
“I felt it!” David screamed. “It moved.”
“Back away, David!”
The next strike sent it sailing into the darkness behind it.
“Ow!” David said. Then: “Let there be light!”
Toria charged up to the wall. The flashlight beam wavered around the square hole and slipped into the blackness beyond.
David’s face appeared, smiling, squinting against the brightness. He laughed.
“Dae!” Toria chimed.
“Where are we?” David said.
Keal and Toria looked at each other. Keal said, “You’re home, son. In the house.”
“The basement,” Toria added.
David closed his eyes. “I should have known.” His lids flipped opened and looked past Toria at the walls and exposed trusses. “I thought I was back in time somewhere—but how could that happen from Taksidian’s house? It’s just that I found the other side first. Like if we’d discovered the locker-linen closet portal from the locker side. It’s still not the locker doing it, it’s the house. It’s always the house.”
“What are you talking about?” Toria said. “How’d you get in there?”
“I’ll explain later,” he said. His eyes found Keal. “Just get me out . . . please .”
“What’s in there?” Keal asked.
“Nothing. Bones .”
“Bones?” Toria said.
“Human bones,” David continued. “Skeletons. But most of them are broken up, ground down to nothing. Gravel.”
“Eeeew!”
“I thought for sure,” David said, “that my bones would wind up in here too, lying on top until someone else got trapped and tromped me into dust.”
Toria touched her fingers to his cheek. He reached his hand out, and she took it.
“Okay,” Keal said. “Back off. We’ll have your bones out of there in a flash.” He lifted the hammer.
The kids released their hands, and David’s disappeared into the
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