Pike reached an arm out. The captain yanked her into the already overflowing cart and they started to move again just as there was a spark and the cart seemed to flicker. The captain glanced back at the Hudsons once more. His dark eyes rested on Matt for a brief moment and then there was a flash. The Vermillion disappeared, leaving behind only a thin vapor of smoke and the faint aroma of peanut butter.
They all ran to the spot where the cart had disappeared. Mrs. Hudson leaned over, resting her hands on her knees. She was breathing very hard, but then she looked up at her family. Her eyes rested on Ruby, Corey, and finally Matt. Her chest caved in, and she fell down to her knees before them.
“Are you all right?” she cried, looking at each of her children. “Did he hurt you? Oh, Mateo, you’re bleeding.” She took the sleeve of her T-shirt, already splattered with the blood of her own injuries, and pressed gently on Matt’s bloody lip. The action seemed to release something inside of him, all the bravery and bravado he’d felt in the heat of the battle seemed to vanish, and he suddenly felt very small and weak.
“Mom?” said Matt.
“What is it, mon chéri?”
Hot tears burned in Matt’s eyes. He tried to sniff them back, but they spilled over anyway. “I’m so sorry, Mom,” he said, pushing down the lump in his throat. “We didn’t mean to . . . We shouldn’t have . . .” Mrs. Hudson wiped the tears spilling down his cheeks. She brushed her fingers through his hair and pulled him in to her.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re okay. That’s all that matters.” She pulled Corey and Ruby in as well and wrapped her arms around all three of her children.
The sound of sirens suddenly blared. Fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars were speeding down Fifth Avenue, screeching to a stop in front of the museum. Matt felt Mrs. Hudson stiffen against him. She turned around and thrust her arms out, blocking her entire family, as though another threat were imminent.
“It’s all right, Belamie,” said Mr. Hudson, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “They’re here to help.”
When the NYPD and NYFD and FBI and all sorts of special agents arrived on the scene, Matt realized that his mother was quite a skilled liar when the situation called for it, and a fine actress to boot. She mixed fact with fiction with ease, weaving a tale about a crazy man who’d been stalking her for ages and just that morning he’d attempted to kidnap her children. Her children, being intelligent and resourceful, called her on the cell phone they always carry and said they were in a bus very near the museum, so she and her husband raced down here just as the bus crashed into the front of the museum.
“Must have been drunk,” said the officer. “And how would you describe the man, ma’am?”
“Like the devil,” said Mrs. Hudson, and when she offered no further description and didn’t appear to be joking, the flummoxed officer turned to Mr. Hudson.
“Tall,” said Mr. Hudson. “Black hair, short beard, about my age and build. He was wearing all black.”
“Except the shoes,” said Ruby. “He wears red Converse.”
“He also has a pet rat that lives inside his jacket,” said Corey. “A white rat with red eyes.”
The officer looked dubious but wrote down the description.
“And your injuries, ma’am?” said the first officer’s partner. “You’re bleeding pretty heavily. How did you sustain them?”
“I got into a sword fight with the maniac.”
The first officer lowered his pen. “A sword fight?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Hudson, as though this were a natural thing.
“She’s an expert swordswoman,” Ruby said.
“Well, we’d better get a medic to look at that.”
“It’s nothing serious,” said Mrs. Hudson. “It’s more important that you find the crazy man who did this before he hurts someone else.”
“We’ve barricaded all exits to the park and set police at every exit to the city. We’ll find him,” said the officer.
Mrs. Hudson said nothing to this. She would allow them to believe what they would.
It was well over two hours before the Hudsons were all released to go home. The police wanted to interview each of the children separately, but Mrs. Hudson would not allow them to be separated, so they had to be interviewed all together. News trucks flooded the scene, and reporters and camera operators tried to get their way to the Hudsons, but the police thankfully had barricaded the scene and would not permit the family to be interviewed by the media at all.
The medics inspected everyone. Mr. Hudson, Corey, and Ruby had just a few cuts and bruises. Matt’s left ribs did appear to be cracked, he had a bloody lip, cuts all over from the glass, and his ankle was badly sprained. Now that they were out of danger and he had started to breathe normally again, sharp pain settled into all parts of his body and he felt completely drained. The medics wrapped an ice pack around his side and ankle, cleaned up his lip, and gave him some pain pills. Mrs. Hudson’s arm needed stitches, but she absolutely refused to go to the hospital, so one of the medics cleaned the wound, stitched her up on the scene, and wrapped her arm in gauze. Finally the police drove the Hudsons home. Matt was almost surprised his mom didn’t ask to see the police officer’s badge, driver’s license, and registration, but when Mr. Hudson opened the door, she simply guided the children in and sat down next to them without a word.
As the police arrived at the Hudsons’ apartment building, the officer gave them strict instructions that they should not leave town for a while, in case they had more questions.
“We’ve no plans to travel, Officer. Thank you,” said Mr. Hudson.
The policeman nodded and drove away.
The exhausted, bewildered family stood in front of their building, huddled together in a sort of awe-filled silence. Mr. Hudson kept his arms protectively around his wife, while Mrs. Hudson wrapped her arms about her three children, pressing them to her as tightly as she could.
“Ruby, what on earth?” She rubbed Ruby’s buttery hair and finally noticed that she was greasy all over. “Did you bathe in a tub of lard?”
“No, butter,” said Corey. “It’s her new beauty regimen.”
“Mom?” Ruby asked, her voice small.
“Yes, chérie?”
“Who are you?”
Mrs. Hudson looked down at Ruby with wide eyes, clearly taken off guard by the question. She gaped, then looked to Mr. Hudson, as though unsure what she should say. He nodded. “It’s time, Belamie.”
Mrs. Hudson knelt down before all of her children. She took each of their hands in her own, grasping them tightly. Matt felt her trembling slightly. “My name is Belamie Rubi Bonnaire. I was born in 1757 in Asilah, Morocco.”
“And so . . . you’re Captain Bonnaire,” said Matt.
Mrs. Hudson nodded. “Was. That was a long time ago.”
“But . . . you were a time pirate,” said Matt. “And you used to be with . . . with Captain Vincent.”
Mrs. Hudson winced. “I was a very different person then, and I did things that I now regret very much, but I can’t go back and change them.”
“And Dad?” Corey asked. “Were you a time pirate, too?”
“Me?” said Mr. Hudson, clearly taken aback. “Don’t I wish! But I’m afraid I’m just as normal and boring as you always believed me to be. Your mother’s the exciting one.”
“You mean you’ve never time-traveled?” Matt asked. “Not once?”
“No, and it’s a real shame. I begged your mother to take me to someplace exotic on our honeymoon, like the Battle of Salamis, but she said no.”
“But the letter . . .” Matt pulled the letter out of his pocket, now severely torn and faded, and unfolded it. “You wrote this letter to Captain Vincent.”
Mr. and Mrs. Hudson bent down and squinted at the letter.
“Huh,” said Mr. Hudson. “That’s odd.”
“The ink is too blurred for me to be certain,” said Mrs. Hudson, “but I’m not entirely sure that’s your handwr
iting.”
“No,” said Mr. Hudson. “Not quite as messy as mine, is it? Though I do have some very interesting maps that tell me where and when the Vermillion will strike in certain places.”
“It’s the map over the dining room table, isn’t it?” said Matt. “Where did you get it?”
“At a flea market in London. It wasn’t until after I bought it that I started to notice the strange markings appear. When I saw one in Manhattan I decided to investigate. It’s how I met your mother, in fact. It’s a very romantic story.”
“Romantic?” said Ruby. “You told us you met Mom at a convenience store.”
“I did,” said Mr. Hudson, beaming. “She was robbing it.”
“Whaaaaaat?” said Corey. Matt blurted out a laugh, which really hurt his ribs. He winced and clutched at his side.
“All right, that’s enough revelations for one day,” said Mrs. Hudson, standing up. “Let’s get home already.”
“But seriously, I don’t get it,” said Corey. “Why’d you stop being a time pirate? Seems to me like it was a pretty good life.”
“I’ll admit, it was exciting,” said Mrs. Hudson, “and there are some things about it that I miss.”
“Then why did you give it all up?” asked Matt.
Mrs. Hudson smiled gently down at him, brushing a hand through his hair. “I gave it all up for you, of course.”
“Me?”
“Yes, and Corey and Ruby, and a little bit your father.”
“Only a little?” said Mr. Hudson, pouting.
“Just a little.” Mrs. Hudson winked at her husband.
“But you didn’t know we’d be your kids then,” said Ruby. “I mean you never saw us before, when you were time-traveling, did you?”
“No,” said Mrs. Hudson, “but I had this hole in my heart, you see.” She pressed her hand to her chest and her eyes grew watery. “I knew something was missing in my life and I searched and searched for the thing that would fill it. I traveled all over time and to the ends of the earth, but it wasn’t until you three came along—”
“Four,” Mr. Hudson coughed into his fist.
“It wasn’t until you four came along,” said Mrs. Hudson, “that I was finally whole. You are my family, and no matter my past, you are my present and future, and I love you more than anything in the entire world.”
“Even more than the Obsidian Compass?” said Matt.
Mrs. Hudson wrapped her arms around her three children and pressed them to her. She rested her head on top of Mateo’s and whispered, “An infinity times more.”
The city was fully awake now, cars, buses, and taxis driving up and down the street, pedestrians with coffee and pastries, walking dogs or hustling to the subway or bus stop. A flock of pigeons pecked at a pile of crumbs around a garbage can. Just a normal morning in New York City. A man walked by with his dog and waved at them. “Morning,” he said. He was wearing a Mets hat.
“Hey, Dad, one more question,” said Corey. “How come you never told us you were at Game Six?”
Mr. Hudson looked confused at first. “Game Six . . . ,” he muttered, and then his eyes widened.
“You . . . ,” he said, putting his hand to his mouth. He looked at each of his children as though seeing them in a new light.
“Yeah, remember us?” said Matt. “You told us about that game over and over, and you never once mentioned that you were there.”
“You had a sweet mullet!” said Corey.
Mr. Hudson’s face burned scarlet, and Mrs. Hudson laughed. “Perhaps just one more reveal then. Go on, Matthew,” she said, in a slightly goading voice. “It’s time.”
Mr. Hudson rubbed the back of his head and looked anywhere but at his children. “Well, uh, you see, I didn’t exactly have tickets to that particular game . . .”
Ruby gasped, but Corey just laughed. “You snuck in, didn’t you? I thought so.”
“You could have at least told us you were there!” said Matt.
“Your mother forbade me, actually, in case I slipped up somehow.”
“Well, it wasn’t the best example for our children,” said Mrs. Hudson.
“Well, I think their pirate mother makes up for all my shortcomings,” said Mr. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson punched him playfully in the arm.
“Yes, speaking of that,” said Ruby. “I have a request. For Mom.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Hudson looked to her daughter.
“Will you give me sword lessons? Please?”
Mrs. Hudson opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“It’s inevitable, Belamie,” said Mr. Hudson. “Sooner or later our children turn into us. We might as well show them the way.”
Mrs. Hudson smiled at her daughter and squeezed her hand. “We’ll start right away. No time like the present.”
“Hey, Mom,” said Corey. “Did you know, on the Vermillion, we ate tons of junk food and it actually made us feel good?”
“Ah, the time-sickness remedy,” said Mrs. Hudson. “I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted. Back to couscous and vegetables, mon chéri.”
Corey groaned.
“Do you get time sickness here?” Ruby asked. “Is that why you never eat any junk food?”
“Partly,” said Mrs. Hudson. “I also don’t eat it because it’s gross. How Americans stand all that junk . . .”
“With great pleasure,” said Mr. Hudson, patting his stomach. “Come on, let’s go home.”
Yes. Home. Matt couldn’t believe how much he missed it, how much he missed his parents, his whole family being together. He decided he would never take for granted the time they had together. He would never again wish to be away from them.
Still clinging to each other, limping and tripping over one another’s feet, all five of the Hudsons walked into their apartment building and headed home.
23
Full Circle
When the Hudsons reached their floor, they found their apartment door was unlocked and slightly ajar.
“You locked it, didn’t you?” said Mr. Hudson.
“I think so,” said Mrs. Hudson. “I certainly closed it all the way.”
Mr. Hudson frowned. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Hello?” he called.
No one answered. Then there was a rustling sound, a thump, and a shriek. “Wake up! We’re going to be late!”
“Who—” Mrs. Hudson began until Ruby hushed her.
“It’s me . . . ,” Ruby whispered.
“Why didn’t Mom wake us?” said the Ruby in the bedroom. “I’m supposed to give my presentation in first period!”
“Probably slept in themselves,” said another voice, a sleepy one that was weirdly familiar to Matt. He looked to Ruby and Corey, then his parents. “We’re still here!” he mouthed, pointing to the rooms. They’d come home before their past selves left!
Mrs. Hudson paled. They all knew it would be a disaster if they saw themselves. They couldn’t see their parents either because, well, they hadn’t seen them before, so if they did in this scenario it might cause a ripple, or worse, they’d get trapped in the space-time continuum.
“Quick! Get into the closet!” whispered Mrs. Hudson. She opened their coat closet by the front door and they all piled in, except Ruby, who was squinting toward the kitchen.
“Ruby!” their mom whispered.
“Hang on.” Ruby sprinted silently to the kitchen counter and grabbed something.
“Oh, I give up! You wake him!” came past-Ruby’s voice from the bedroom. Now-Ruby made a mad dash for the closet and slipped in just as her past self walked out of the bedroom and trudged to the kitchen.
“What were you doing?” hissed Mrs. Hudson.
“Getting Corey’s lunch!” Ruby shoved a lunch bag in front of Corey. “Corey forgot his lunch this morning. If he gets it this time, we could be stuck in this closet forever!”
Understanding dawned on Matt. Corey’s hunger was one of the main reasons they’d boarded the Vermillion in the first place. If he wasn’t despera
tely hungry and their past selves didn’t end up getting on the train, who knows what future they would create, if it would stop Captain Vincent from kidnapping them, or if they’d ever reunite with their parents.
“Good thinking,” said Mrs. Hudson.
“But . . . ,” said Corey, thoroughly perplexed. “Whatever. If pre-me is going to starve, now-me is going to eat.” He opened his lunch and started eating as they listened to themselves argue about breakfast and being late. Finally the past–Hudson children all rushed to the door. They opened the closet and reached for their backpacks. The Hudsons inside the closet all squeezed together as much as they could, trying to hide themselves behind the long coats, but the past–Hudson children weren’t looking. They opened the door and were about to close it when past-Ruby said, “Wait! I need a jacket.” An arm reached inside the closet again and fumbled around. “Where is my gray jacket? This closet is a disaster.” She started tearing bags and coats out of the closet. Matt turned his head, pressing it into his dad’s shoulder. If she kept going, she was going to knock right into them. Now-Ruby suddenly tugged on Matt’s sleeve. “Your sweater!” she whispered in his ear, and Matt understood. He was wearing the hoodie that Ruby had taken that morning. He quickly pulled it off and chucked it to the front of the closet.
“Oh fine, whatever.” Ruby took the hoodie and went out the door.
“Hey, that’s mine,” Matt heard himself say.
“Well, I’m borrowing it. Ew, it smells. When’s the last time you washed this thing?”
“I don’t know. Never?”
“Gross.”
The door slammed, and the deadbolt clicked. They heard themselves run down the stairs. Then silence.
“That was seriously weird,” Corey said. Ruby slowly pushed open the door and crawled out of the closet. Matt followed her, and then Corey and then Mr. Hudson. There was an audible gasp behind him.
“Belamie?” Mr. Hudson asked. Mrs. Hudson turned on her phone flashlight and shifted the contents of the closet, revealing the safe in the wall. It was open. And it was empty.