The Trap Door Page 7

  “Ooh, I get it,” Sera said. “This is an easy one. The Drinking Gourd is the Big Dipper.”

  “And the Big Dipper points the way to . . . ?”

  “The North Star,” Dak said.

  “Your clue said to wait,” Gamaliel said. “Probably until the stars come out.”

  “And then we follow the Drinking Gourd . . . but where?” Sera said. She didn’t like dealing with such vague instructions.

  “Sera,” Dak said in a very serious voice, “Dr. Bailey said abolitionists are missing from here to Philadelphia. We saw for ourselves that the SQ is responsible. So we need to go north. We’ll follow the Freedom Trail, flush out the phony abolitionists, and find the real abolitionists so that they can continue to help runaways and work toward freedom and equality.”

  Gamaliel stood, hat in hand. “As it stands now, the plantation owners are winning against us abolitionists. They’re using more and more violent means to stop us. My newspaper has been threatened, and so has my life. I will fight to the end to keep my paper going, but I’m afraid if they get rid of me, no one else will dare to step in. It’s very dangerous.” He turned to Dak. “Your mention of something I’ll publish in the new year gives me great hope that I’ll survive at least a bit longer. But who knows what will happen after that?” And then he paused and frowned. “Well, I guess you do.”

  “A war,” Sera whispered. “That’s what happens. And it lasts forever.”

  Gamaliel looked as though he didn’t dare ask if forever was an exaggeration.

  Dak sucked in a breath and blew it out. Things were getting intense. “Well, if we don’t have to stay here to wait for the drunk dude,” he said, laughing a little, because now it sounded really ridiculous, “somebody should go find Riq.”

  “I’ll do it,” Sera said. “You stay here in case he comes after all. He had the clue, too, remember? He figured it out, so I bet if he’s not captured again, he’ll know that we’ve all got to follow the Drinking Gourd.” She looked around the church for a clock, with no luck. “Don’t go anywhere,” she said. “I’ll be back a little after dark whether I’ve found him or not. And then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

  With that, she was gone. A moment later, Dak and Gamaliel saw her bonneted head bobbing up and down as she ran down the street, clutching the shawl around her neck in one hand and holding Riq’s coat in the other.

  “She’s a spunky girl,” the man said.

  “All the girls are like that in our time.” Dak grimaced.

  Gamaliel smiled warmly. “Good. There’s hope, then, for all. That gives me more joy than you know.”

  When Sera had disappeared from sight, Dak turned back to the Hystorian. “How do we follow the Drinking Gourd, exactly? The sky is so vast. Are there trails, or do you just sort of . . . go north?”

  “The way to freedom here along the coast,” Gamaliel said, “is to go to the water, but there are no set trails. Most runaways have to make it out on their wits alone, or with a bit of help from other slaves or freedmen, and the occasional pale-skinned abolitionist who has no qualms about breaking the law. But we’re lucky here — the Choptank River is just a few blocks away. It feeds into the Chesapeake Bay. Until about a week ago or so, runaway slaves were sometimes able to escape with a sympathetic sailor and get as far as Baltimore, at least.”

  “But not now?”

  “Not now. Not safely, anyway. With all of the SQ posing as kind, good-hearted abolitionists, luring runaways into their homes and ships to capture and sell them again, there’s no way to know whom to trust. It’s chaos. We desperately need to get our Hystorians back and restore the system, or else no one will ever hear of the Underground Railroad.” His face was solemn.

  Dak didn’t have the heart to tell him that in their time, no one but the geekiest historians had ever heard of it, and they knew it as a failure.

  SERA RAN from one end of town to the other, which took almost no time at all in a town that didn’t even have a post office. She poked her head inside a tavern, wrinkled up her nose, and backed out again. Riq wouldn’t be in there. She slipped into Bradshaw’s Hotel, where a group of men stood in a circle talking about buying and selling slaves and how much money they were making these days thanks to the Fugitive Slave Act, which they called the Bloodhound Law.

  She wandered past them and stood nearby with her back to them, pretending to wait for someone, and they took no notice of her at all. She saw the fake Mrs. Beeson slip into the hotel, and that was enough to make Sera circle the group and exit in a hurry. She didn’t see Riq anywhere, so reluctantly she left and turned toward the Choptank River wharf.

  Since it was December, she was surprised to see so much activity by the water. The air was brisk. Sera pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and scanned the various boats as daylight disappeared. She was getting anxious. She decided that Riq wouldn’t be milling around on the road after what had happened earlier, so she took a very long walk in a roundabout way along the river behind the village shops, following a small stream into the edge of the woods on her way back toward the church. And that’s where she spied a young man sitting with his back against a tree.

  She moved closer. “Riq?”

  He scrambled to his feet and whirled around. “Sera,” he said. “Wow. You scared me. I’m so glad to see you.”

  She ran up to him. “Why didn’t you come to the church? Didn’t you hear Dak?”

  “I heard him. But I couldn’t. I can’t. There are slave traders everywhere. I couldn’t risk crossing the street after what happened earlier — everybody knows what I look like.”

  “Well, it’s getting dark now. Can you come with me? We’ll sneak across.”

  He sighed deeply. “It’s not just the risk,” he admitted. “It’s . . . well, I’m supposed to meet Kessiah here. See, I found out a bunch of stuff. She’s related to me, and . . .”

  Sera stared. “She’s what?”

  “She’s my great-great-something-grandmother. I know it’s crazy, but I’m telling you, being up on that platform was like déjà vu — I’d heard the story of that auction so many times from my grandma Phoebe. . . . I didn’t even realize. It was just so strange and awful, but somehow it was amazing because she’s, you know, my family.”

  Sera gazed up at him, wishing she really did understand. “Does she know that?”

  “No. But I know something’s weird, and I know from my grandma that something bad happens, and I think it all has to do with the Break. I need to stay with Kessiah. I need to make sure she stays safe. It —” He hesitated, then said in a very quiet voice, “It has something to do with my Remnants, Sera.” He left it at that, and Sera knew better than to press him for more details. “We’re bound for Baltimore. And that’s the same way you guys have to go, too, according to the clue — you got the Drinking Gourd reference, right?”

  “Um,” Sera said in a breezy manner, “oh yeah, sure, right away. Easy one. Yep.”

  He grinned. “I knew you’d get it eventually. Did you find the Hystorian? The real one, I mean?”

  “We found a Hystorian, yes. He’s very nice.”

  “Good.” He dug the toe of his boot in the mud, thinking. “Okay, then. Here’s my plan. I’m going with Kissy and John tonight — she’s a runaway, and he’s a fugitive for taking them, so we’re all on the run — and I’m going to keep them safe until we meet Aunt Minty in Baltimore. She’s supposed to take them farther north, but something goes wrong along the way. Something I may be able to help with. So,” he said, “I will meet you guys in Baltimore, and we’ll figure out a plan from there.” He waited, not breathing, for her response.

  Her face wrinkled up. “But, Riq,” she said, “no. Just . . . no. We need you, and I hate when we’re all split up. It makes me really nervous. How far is Baltimore from here?”

  “It’s north, up the Chesapeake Bay, like seventy-five miles. You guys can take land, and I’ll take the water where it’s safer. Okay? Please?” He jiggled his foot with nervous en
ergy.

  She looked skeptical.

  Riq sighed. “Remember when we were in the 885 Break and Dak was desperate to experience a Viking ship because he’s so in love with history and it was the chance of a lifetime, and so we said fine, go ahead? This is like that. This is my Viking ship.” He grabbed her hand and looked into her eyes. “Please, Sera.”

  She flushed in the dark and looked down. “Yeah, okay, I get that, but look at the trouble Dak made because of his once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He could have died. Or one of us, trying to rescue him.”

  “Yes, but there’s no war here!” He bit his lip, knowing he was too loud, and lowered his voice. “There’s no war, no projectile missiles or boiling oil raining down. It’s just a simple overnight ride up the bay.” His eyes begged her as the stars began to pop in the night sky.

  “Why can’t you wait for me to get Dak and the Hystorian so we can all go together?”

  “We’re too big a group. The only way this will work is if we can avoid drawing attention. And besides, you two need to focus on the mission. Keeping Kissy safe is just one part of that.”

  “Grrr,” Sera said. It was getting late. She had to get back to the church.

  They heard a noise and tensed, on their guard, but it was Kessiah and John and the children. James, in his father’s arms, clutched a blanket.

  “Riq,” Kessiah whispered. “It’s time. We have to go.” She nodded to Sera. “Thank you for causing that distraction,” she said. “We’ll always be grateful.” Her eyes traveled downward to Riq’s and Sera’s hands clasped together, and her mouth opened, then closed again. But then she controlled her expression and turned back to Riq. In a more sympathetic voice, she said, “I’m sorry. We need to make it to Federal Hill by late morning. If we’re not there in time . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence, but everyone knew what she meant.

  Riq turned back to Sera. “Please.”

  Sera looked from Kessiah to John to Riq, closed her eyes, leaned back against the tree, and sighed. Kessiah and John both nodded their good-byes to Sera and turned to go.

  Sera pulled her hand from Riq’s and picked up the Quaker jacket, holding it out to him. “Here,” she said. “Go. Stay safe, all of you. I don’t know how long it’ll take us to get there. . . .” She trailed off, hoping Gamaliel would know.

  Riq took the jacket and surprised Sera by grabbing her in a tight bear hug, and whispered, “Thanks,” in her ear. Then he added, “Federal Hill in Baltimore. I’ll see you there tomorrow.” He turned, taking a few steps to follow John and Kessiah. Then he paused and ran back to Sera, gripped her forearms, and looked wildly around. “If something happens and we don’t make it, or I don’t make it, you know what you have to do. Promise me?”

  Sera’s lip quivered. “Nothing will happen to you.” She stared at him, his gaze unwavering, waiting.

  “If it does,” he said urgently.

  Finally, she nodded. “I promise,” she whispered.

  He turned and was gone into the night.

  KESSIAH, CARRYING baby Araminta; John, walking with young James; and Riq picked their way in the dark along the small stream until it met the impressive Choptank River. John led them through the dark behind an oyster-shucking house, through a maze of giant piles of oyster shells, sneaking around them rather than taking the more populated walk along the wharf. Riq could smell the salty brine. There was a brisk breeze, but the stars were bright and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky that he could see.

  “We can watch from here,” John said, crouching down. He glanced at Riq, sizing him up. “We’re waiting for an oyster boat. It’s small, but I pray we all fit.”

  Riq knew who’d be left out if they didn’t.

  “With this wind,” Kessiah said, “we’ll make good time, won’t we?”

  “If it lasts.” John, who worked as a ship’s carpenter, held a finger to his lips as three hulking men came into view across the wharf. They wandered through the piles of shells as if they were looking for something.

  A moment later, as a small oyster boat under sail glided toward the dock, the three men split up and began to circle the area twenty yards away.

  John signaled to the crew in the boat, and one of them signaled back. Riq watched, waiting for his cue. He smiled at James, who somehow understood the seriousness of all of this and was quiet. But the baby . . .

  Kessiah cradled the baby to her, but she began to fuss and cry. John’s eyes widened in alarm. He turned his head toward the three men getting closer, and then he looked at Riq and Kessiah. They had to go — it was now or never. They’d have to risk being seen. “Be quick,” he said. “You and the baby, then James and I will follow. Riq, you come after me.”

  Riq and Kessiah nodded. She gripped a small bag and the baby, and ran to the boat. The men in the boat helped her in, and then John began to run with young James, and that’s when one of the three enormous men saw the movement.

  “Stop!” the man hollered. “Who are you?” He came running, the other two on his heels.

  “Go!” Riq yelled. He got up, ready to run but waiting, knowing he couldn’t go until James and John were settled to make sure the boat didn’t capsize.

  The wind gusted, taking James’s blanket with it.

  “Hey!” James yelled. He turned to get it, pulling from his father’s grasp just as they were about to step into the vessel. John, thrown off balance, nearly fell into the icy water, and instead twisted and fell hard on his back on the edge of the boat, managing to roll into it rather than into the water. He cried out, clutching his back, and writhed in pain. He was completely unable to go after James.

  The slave hunters thundered toward the boat and the boy.

  “James!” Riq cried, his stomach lurching. He tore after him, scooped up the blanket and James in one smooth move, and then whirled around, three angry men bearing down on him.

  Kessiah screamed, baby Araminta wailed, John gasped and groaned, the stranger piloting the boat whipped his head around and yelled “Go!” and Riq — carrying James — tried desperately to dodge the men and make it into the boat, whispering, “Hang on to me!” into James’s neck. But despite Kessiah’s screams, the captain of the vessel pulled away for his own escape, and there was nowhere for Riq and James to go but into the frigid river, or back into the woods.

  “THE GOOD news,” Gamaliel said as he, Dak, and Sera made their way toward the river, “is that I have transportation awaiting to cross me back over to the other side of the Chesapeake, for I traveled to Annapolis by buggy, then here by boat. And there is room enough on the cutter for all of us.”

  “What’s the bad news?” Sera asked, a hint of worry creeping into her voice, partly because she could hear a woman screaming in the distance, which seemed odd for such a small town. She couldn’t help being on edge. Dak had been surprised that Sera had let Riq out of her sight once she’d found him, but he’d been quick to declare that she’d made the right decision. Dak figured that Riq knew what he was doing. Sera herself was less sure.

  “The bad news is that we must go by way of Annapolis. But we’ll get that far tonight and take the buggy the rest of the way. We’ll reach Baltimore in the morning.”

  “That’s not so bad,” Sera said.

  “There’s even worse news, though,” Dak said, turning and glancing over his shoulder. “I just saw our non-Friend, Mrs. Beeson, in front of the hotel, and I’m guessing she saw us, too, because now we’re being followed. Gammy, do you know those two guys?”

  Gamaliel looked over his shoulder, and then began to walk faster. “Not by name,” he said in a grim voice. “Time Wardens working as slave traders. They’re not fond of me, or my newspaper. I thought I’d managed to lose them on this trip.” He waved to catch the attention of someone by the river.

  The three hurried to the wharf, Gamaliel directing Dak and Sera to a pilot cutter. “No time to waste now,” Gamaliel said under his breath. He held out his hand to Sera, who didn’t really need help climbing aboard but thought i
t would be impolite to say so, and then Dak, who ignored the hand and jumped in on his own. They were getting to be decent sailors themselves by now.

  Gamaliel climbed aboard after them. “Go below and stay out of sight,” he said to Dak and Sera. “I think we lost them, but best we take precautions.” He strode across the deck to speak to the captain.

  From their hiding place in the little cabin that led below, Dak and Sera could hear various scuffles and shouting from around the wharf, which seemed to be quite natural as far as wharves go at night, but they still strained to scan the area for the Time Wardens. It was too dark to see much. The only lights were those of oil lamps on the boats and the stars above.

  “I wish it was light out,” Dak said. He watched the sailors go to work and started explaining to Sera everything he knew about piloting vessels and how their job was to help guide the bigger ships into port. A pilot cutter was kind of like a tugboat, but about a trillion times cooler because it had a mast and could go superfast. Sera nodded now and then, not all that interested. She got up and stood in the doorway of the little cabin as the cutter headed down the river toward the Chesapeake Bay.

  “There it is,” she said. “The Big Dipper, pointing out the North Star. We’re following it. Well, sort of, now that we’re turning north.” She felt the sharp cut of the wind whipping around her bonnet and slapping her in the face with spray. A Remnant blew through her as well, making her long for her parents. It was crazy, really. She didn’t remember them at all, yet she felt such love for them, such intense desire to be with them as if she knew them well.

  “I bet you miss your parents,” she said to Dak.

  He got up and stood behind her, looking out over her shoulder. “Yeah, I do. A lot. I know I make a lot of stupid jokes, but the truth is, I can’t stop worrying about them.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’ve been on this very same body of water before with them,” he said. “We stayed here on vacation once when we went to Washington, DC, to see the War of 1812 Memorial. We went sailing. It was the best time —” He stopped abruptly and didn’t continue. He slipped his hand into his pocket and fingered the iron key his mother had slipped to him when he’d seen his parents for a moment in 911.