He slowed, then stopped. No, he had to trust his memory, had to trust his earlier self. Panic would get him killed. It would drown him like the children in Penny’s story, the ones Penelope and Jack’s papa had warned them about to keep them out of the tunnels.
The water was at Reuben’s chest, the blackness unrelenting. He wished he had not thought of those drowned children. Gone now were all thoughts of slithering and creeping things, replaced by the far more horrible thought of those children drowning, and of himself drowning just like them. The wall, he thought desperately. Concentrate on the wall.
At the next corner he turned right again, and then it happened. The new stretch of tunnel was narrower, the water markedly higher; it was as if Reuben had stepped out of a sluggish backwater and into a lively brook. He felt the water suddenly at his chin, and in a rush of alarm he jerked his raised hand even higher, straightening his arm completely above his head, and banged his already bruised knuckles against the low tunnel ceiling. He almost dropped the watch, in fact probably would have dropped it had he not instinctively secured it with his other hand. But in doing so he lost contact with the all-important wall. Realizing this, Reuben felt himself panicking and lunged back to find it.
He missed.
He must have missed it only by inches, his searching fingers shooting past the corner into open water, but in such darkness inches were enough. He stumbled, his face went underwater, and he contorted wildly to keep the watch clear. When he regained his footing, Reuben had no idea which direction he was facing.
And now, finally, panic overtook him. He could no longer think clearly enough to tell himself to calm down. Indeed, he could hardly think at all. Like anyone in a true panic, Reuben lost his grip on reason. He found himself up against a wall, not knowing which one it was or where it would lead him, and he followed it a few paces before deciding it was the wrong one, the wrong way, and turned back. He could not have said why. Soon he was floundering left and right, back and forth, from one wall to another to still another… or they might all have been the same wall, he might have been stepping away and turning back again and again, for every time his hand lost contact with the stone, he felt as if he’d lost contact with all things and was caught up in a nightmare of water and darkness and screams.
For Reuben was certainly screaming now. He screamed for help, and he screamed in terror of drowning, and then he screamed because in his utter panicked confusion he imagined his own screams to be those of the drowned children—not of their ghosts but of the children themselves, as if they were still drowning and Reuben were down here in this blackness drowning right along with them.
Then the water began to choke him when he opened his mouth, and his screams gave way to violent coughing and spitting jets of cold salt water, until something in him took over and made him be silent. He pressed himself up against a wall, lifting his chin as high as he could to keep the water out, and though he already stood in total darkness, Reuben squeezed his eyes tightly closed, as if bracing for a deadly blow. He was no longer flailing about in panic, but he remained in a state of terrified confusion. He knew that he had stopped screaming, but he could still hear the screams of the other children. They were screaming the same thing, over and over and over.
Then, with a shock, Reuben realized that what they were screaming was his name. He opened his eyes and looked all around him, horrified, somehow expecting to see their own horrified faces come looming up at him out of the darkness like pale sea creatures rising from the bottom of the ocean.
Reuben! they shrieked. Reuben! Reuben!
Reuben, aghast, spotted one of them, or the ghost of one of them, a smudge of light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. He stared at it, paralyzed with fear, mesmerized by the sight of it. It wobbled and flickered—a life, he thought, about to be extinguished. It sought his company.
“Reuben!”
The truth shocked him even more than his nightmare vision had. Reuben listened and stared. His wildly scattered thoughts came galloping back, corralling themselves into a more rational place.
“Reuben!”
Not drowning children. Not a nightmare.
Penny.
Outside, the storm thrashed on, but inside the oil house, with the door closed, there was something almost like silence. At least it felt like silence to the two children who had just struggled through the torrents of rain and wind, with waves crashing around them as they picked their way over slippery submerged boulders—the water ankle-deep, then suddenly thigh-deep, then ankle-deep again, constantly shifting and sucking at their legs, repeatedly knocking them to their knees. Through it all, Penny had somehow managed to maintain a grip on her storm lantern, and Reuben on his precious watch, until at last they were stumbling across wet grass and, by unspoken agreement, headed for the oil house. Now they sat huddled in the soft light of the lantern, shivering from the cold seawater and, in Reuben’s case, from the not-yet-faded terror of drowning.
They picked their way over slippery submerged boulders—the water ankle-deep, then suddenly thigh-deep, then ankle-deep again, constantly shifting and sucking at their legs, repeatedly knocking them to their knees.
Penny’s mass of red hair was plastered against her head, her face, the collar of her raincoat. It looked like a strange variety of red seaweed. “‘Be back soon’?” she muttered at length.
Reuben was staring at the lantern, still feeling as if he dared not look away. But Penny’s words roused him from his trance. His eyes went to her face, her own eyes reflecting the lantern light. Her expression was serious, even angry.
“You saved my life,” Reuben said in a monotone. His brain felt dulled somehow; his words came out with great difficulty. “I dropped my flashlight. It was totally black down there, I was lost, and I thought I was going to drown. The water was up to here.” Slowly, as if he were still moving through water, he raised his hand up to his mouth. He let it drop into his lap.
Penny’s expression softened. In fact, she looked so concerned for him now that Reuben was reminded of his mom, and that did it—he began to cry. He covered his face. He felt Penny lay her hand on his arm. After a minute he stopped and wiped at his eyes. He took a few deep breaths and felt steadier.
“Sorry,” he said.
“No,” Penny said. “It must have been the most awful thing. I can’t imagine.”
Reuben nodded. “Well. Thanks.”
They fell silent once more. Their shivering was slowly beginning to subside. After a while Penny took her hand from his arm and wrapped her arms around her knees again. She rested her chin on one knee. “What did you find down there, Reuben?”
Reuben made himself answer. “A letter. From Penelope. It explains everything.”
“May I read it?”
“I left it down there so that you—all of you—could find it later. It’s in a dry place, or dry enough, anyway.”
Penny was looking intently at him. “And that’s all? Nothing else?”
Reuben shook his head.
“You’re telling the truth,” she said after a moment, but she didn’t seem any less troubled. “So that thing you had in your hand outside—that little metal compass thing you were trying not to get wet—you already had it with you. That’s what was in Penelope’s box, isn’t it? Where is it now, in your pocket?”
Reuben looked away. “I can’t tell you.”
“I saved your life!” Penny snapped. “You said so yourself! And it doesn’t even belong to you!”
Reuben, flinching at her tone, thought for some time before he replied. “Okay,” he said, looking back at her. “Okay, I’ll tell you, because you’re right, I do owe you. And it’s not just that—I actually really want to. Honestly, I do. But…” He screwed up his face, doubtful of what he wanted to say next.
“But what?”
“But you’re wrong about its not belonging to me,” Reuben said in a rush. “It belongs to me every bit as much as it belonged to Penelope.”
Penny’s mouth fell op
en. She closed it again very deliberately, her eyes narrowed, and her face suddenly expressed such indignant anger that the flames in her eyes seemed to come not from reflected lantern light but from the furious girl herself, as if she were a mad sorceress. Yet she said nothing, and as she and Reuben stared at each other with eyes locked (he forced himself not to avoid her terrible gaze), her expression slowly transformed from one of outrage to something more like irritated seriousness, until she seemed more like the Penny he thought he knew.
“You think you’re telling the truth,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’ll bet I can guess how you have it figured. You’re thinking it wasn’t really Penelope’s to begin with. You’re thinking it’s finders keepers with this thing.”
“Something like that,” Reuben said mildly.
“But then it did belong to her,” Penny insisted. “And she specifically wanted it to be returned to Jack—or at least to our family!”
“Not exactly,” Reuben countered, with an apologetic look. “She wanted Jack involved, yes, because she wanted him to help her complete her mission if she couldn’t do it herself. Or for some other Meyer to do it if Jack wasn’t still around. That much I agree with. And the box, obviously—Penelope had it custom-made, so obviously it should be returned to your family, and I brought it back, didn’t I? But the watch is different. You’ll see what I mean once you’ve read the letter. She wanted—”
“So it’s a watch,” Penny interrupted.
Reuben frowned. He hadn’t meant to reveal that. He hadn’t had a chance to decide what secrets to keep and what to share.
“May I see it?” Penny asked, though from her tone it was clear that this was less a request than a demand. “Surely I deserve to. I’ve done nothing but help you since you got here.”
The thought of showing someone else the watch made Reuben itchy all over. With the exception of Mrs. Genevieve, it had been his secret from the beginning, and his alone. But Penny was right. She did deserve to see it.
“First,” he said slowly, “you have to promise you won’t try to take it from me. And you have to promise you won’t run inside and tell anyone about it. They’re all going to find out about it soon enough.”
Penny regarded him warily. She hesitated long enough that Reuben began to worry that he’d just put an idea into her head.
“You have to promise,” he repeated, “or there’s no way you’re going to see it. I can’t risk it, Penny.”
Penny narrowed her eyes at him. But after another moment’s consideration, she promised.
Reuben withdrew the open clock watch from his raincoat pocket. For the flicker of an instant his mind played a trick on him, transforming it into the image of a screaming cartoon face, the winding key sticking out from the center like a petrified tongue. He blinked, and the disturbing vision was gone. He found himself shivering even more. Reading Penelope’s letter had done something to him, he realized. He was more aware than ever of the watch’s wicked potential.
But it was also a thing of beauty, a fact confirmed by Penny’s gasp of admiration. She bent over it, studying it. Reuben could tell she wanted to hold it but wouldn’t ask him, rightly guessing what his answer would be.
“It’s lovely,” she whispered. All traces of irritation were gone from her face now. She looked up at him with wide eyes. “But what’s its secret? Why is it so important?”
“I’ll show you,” Reuben said, surprising himself. Having gone this far, he realized he wanted to tell Penny everything. In fact, he was bursting to tell her. Rising quickly, he fetched a cloth from his backpack and wiped the surface of the watch until it was completely dry. With the key snugly inserted and no seams in the metal, he didn’t think water could have gotten inside; but its previous owners had clearly taken pains to protect the watch from the elements, and Reuben was following their lead.
Soon he was ready. He gave Penny a firm look. “Don’t scream. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise. I’m just going to disappear. But it can be upsetting to see it happen, so you need to brace yourself.”
“Wait!” Penny said, looking panicky. “You’re going to disappear?”
“Only for a minute,” Reuben said. “Can you handle it?”
Penny stared at him, then slowly nodded.
“Don’t scream,” he repeated, with another warning look. “I mean it. Now here goes.” He pulled out on the winding key. Everything vanished, and in the darkness he heard Penny’s strangled cry, followed by a smacking sound as she clapped her hands over her mouth. He reappeared. At the sight of her astonished face, he couldn’t help smiling.
“You disappeared!” Penny hissed, hands still over her mouth.
“I told you I was going to.”
“Yes, but—you disappeared! Reuben, you—”
“Disappeared,” Reuben said, grinning. “I know.”
When Penny had calmed down, Reuben vanished for her again, and then a third time. Then he wound the watch and slipped it back into his pocket. He grew serious. “Listen, Penny. There’s a man—a very bad man…” He hesitated, unsure now how much he should reveal.
Penny stiffened. “Who are you talking about?” Her features were suddenly strained with anxiety. “Do you mean someone like Bartholomew?”
“Maybe. Maybe not quite so bad. Maybe worse. I can tell you he’s very powerful, though.”
“What about him?” Penny whispered. “Is he following you?”
“Not here,” said Reuben. “But he’s definitely looking for me. Back home, where I come from. He wants the watch.”
“Oh, Reuben.” Penny sounded sick.
“Yeah.”
“And your mom?”
Reuben shook his head. “She doesn’t know. If she did, she’d tell me to give him the watch—to protect me—and I can’t do that.”
“No,” Penny agreed, after considering a moment. “No, not if he’s as bad as you say. But why didn’t you just destroy it? Then he could never get it!”
“I thought about it. But I don’t believe a man like him would just leave me and my mom alone after that. I was hoping to find another way.” Reuben took a deep breath, let it out, and looked at her soberly. “And thanks to Penelope, I’ve found one. I know what to do.”
Penny blinked. “I’m confused. Is this about the letter? Would you please tell me what’s going on?”
Reuben started to speak, then checked himself, remembering that if he revealed too much, he could lose the watch. He had to be careful. “If I tell you,” he said, “you can’t tell your family about any of this until I say it’s okay. No matter what. If you do, I’m going to disappear, and you’ll never see me again.”
“Reuben!” Penny gasped.
“Sorry, but that’s the only way I can tell you. Promise me that, and I promise you that when the time is right, you can tell them everything. That’s the deal, Penny. It has to be.”
Penny clearly saw that he meant what he said; she was also clearly torn. If she agreed to the deal, she had to keep a secret from her family. If she didn’t, her family would never learn what the secret even was. She covered her face with her hands.
“Okay,” she whispered after a long pause. She lowered her hands just enough to reveal her earnest green eyes. “Okay, I promise.”
And so Reuben told her everything. First he told her what Penelope’s letter said, and then about finding the watch, about the difficult circumstances he and his mom were in, about the horrible strange man on the pay phone and the train. And finally he explained to her about The Smoke.
“The whole city,” Reuben said. “He’s got the whole city under his thumb. He has the other watch. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Nobody’s ever seen him. He’s got someone called the Counselor who handles all his business for him. And these men, the Directions, they do all his dirty work because they’re scared. You wouldn’t believe the rumors about him—he’s a ghost, he’s a monster, he’s any bad thing you can think of. Nobody knows exactly what, but everybody’s afraid of him.
”
“Because he can turn invisible,” said Penny, with a look of revulsion, “because he can do terrible things and never be seen.”
Reuben nodded.
“That’s disgusting,” Penny said. “I hate this man!”
Reuben laughed, surprising himself. “Well, yeah, so do I. So does everybody. But guess what? I’m going to stop him. I think I’m the one to do it. Like Penelope, except—well, I’m a kid, right? So it’s even better. He won’t be expecting a kid to try anything like that.”
Penny stared at him, aghast. “Stop him? You? That’s your plan?”
Her response was not exactly encouraging, but Reuben held firm. “Why not? He’s only powerful because he has the other watch, and I can use my own watch to take it away! So that’s what I’m going to do.”
Penny shook her head. “But why would you risk—?” She cut herself off, looking at him with sudden understanding. “Your mom.”
“Right,” Reuben said. “If it were just me, no. I wouldn’t even go back there. But if I don’t stop the search as soon as possible, they’re going to figure out who I am, and that means her, too. As long as The Smoke is in power, she’s in danger.”
Penny looked ill. “I can’t believe this. I really can’t—it’s so terrible! You really think you can stop him?”
“I really do,” Reuben said, wishing he felt as certain as he sounded. “There’s no way the Counselor and the Directions will follow his orders anymore, not if they realize he’s just a man. Believe me, I’ve heard some of them complaining. If I steal the watch and expose him, the whole thing will fall apart.”
“I don’t know,” said Penny, nervously rubbing her hands together. “I don’t know, Reuben. Like you said, we’re just kids.”
Reuben hesitated—he hadn’t said anything about her being a kid—then pressed on, feeling a powerful need to defend his plan. For the sake of his own confidence, he desperately wanted Penny to agree with him. “Hey, it was Penelope who gave me the idea, remember? And isn’t this exactly what she wanted? It’s what she risked everything for, what she dedicated her life to doing. And I can do it, Penny. I can finish it!”