Where This Mystery Takes Us: Final Chapter
Hedda moves ahead with her plan, forcing everyone to make a decision.
This is it. The last chapter of my first-ever serialized story, and the first story I’ve completely published on My Favorite Suspects. It’s been a bit experimental. I hope you’ve enjoyed it so far and that you enjoy the ending.
For the first part, see Part 1.
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"What do we do now?" Erland asked Hedda.
"Now we see where this mystery takes us."
The Conductor's voice crackled from speakers recessed in the ceiling. "Bridge ahead. Five minutes to the bridge."
Hedda and Erland looked at each other, unsure of what that meant.
The door to the next car slid open. The Conductor stepped inside and approached the Fox family.
"This train doesn't stop," she said in a hushed voice, "but it does slow down. There's a tight curve before the last bridge, and we have to slow the train to a crawl to manage it. I'll let you off there, Erland, and whoever else wants to leave."
"Buddy and I will go," Erland said, his voice breaking.
Hedda didn't respond. She curled herself around Pip and focused on her, as though there were nothing else in the world. Her expression softened, as if dreaming, and she smiled, as she used to do in the days soon after Pip was born, when they would all sit together in the honey-amber light of morning, watch Buddy chase cicadas in the meadow by their house, and look ahead to what the day would bring.
Pip coughed weakly and her eyes stayed closed. Erland struggled to recall a time when her eyes were open. He leaned over and nuzzled her ear.
True to the Conductor's word, the train slowed as they approached the curve. From the door of the passenger car, the Conductor lowered Erland, along with Buddy, to the ground. Erland tread carefully on the slick stone ballast that bordered the tracks.
He put Buddy down and tried to see Hedda through the frost-rimmed windows of the passenger car.
"I hate trains," Buddy said.
"I'm with you on that," Erland said.
Inside, in the dim lighting of the car, the Conductor approached Hedda. "And you, young lady?"
"I guess I've gone as far as I can go."
"You can go farther if you wish. You have a token."The Conductor crouched beside her. "Why'd you get on my train, Hedda?"
"I hoped we all could make it to the City. I wanted our life to be like it is in the Book. I couldn't make it happen." Hedda looked out the window, straining to see into the darkness, and whispered, "Buddy?"
"Boys get to a certain age, they want to be with their fathers."
"But they still need their mothers."
"Can't argue with that." The Conductor raised her eyebrows apologetically. "Last chance to leave."
Hedda looked around at the other passengers. She noted how so many appeared ill or infirm. Remarkably, there were Foxes side by side with Sheep and Beavers and other Folk. She wondered why she hadn't noticed before.
"Is the story true?" Hedda said.
"What do you mean?"
"Will Pip be... will she be taken care of?"
"I'll see to Pip's care personally."
"Will she be alone?"
"Never. There are many others like her."
"Can I visit her?"
"I can't say. This train doesn't run often. It's a special."
Hedda's voice faltered. "Will she remember me?"
"Now, don't you start making me cry, Hedda. All I can tell you, as one mother to another, is that little Pip will be all right. She will have a family."
Hedda carefully handed Pip over to the Conductor, who cradled the kit in her thick paws and pulled her into the warm, dense fur of her chest.
Then Hedda smoothed Pip's downy hair and sniffed her scent one last time.
#
Outside the creaking train, in the gloom along the tracks, Erland darted back and forth, scanning the windows.
"Mama!" Buddy said.
Erland saw Hedda limping toward them, along the track, crying openly. He hardly recognized her; her red fur appeared grayish-white in the light from the passenger car windows. She held one foreleg braced against her belly where Pip had been swaddled.
"Where's Pip?" Buddy said, sniffing the air.
Without answering, Hedda walked up to Erland and slapped him.
Erland yelped and held his nose.
Hedda turned, slipped on the gravel, and fell. Erland eased himself down beside her. He held her closely, with his too-big coat wrapped around her, protecting her from the wind. Hedda didn't resist, but she didn't welcome him, either.
Buddy said, "This isn't how the story’s supposed to end."
Erland pulled Buddy under his coat. "I'll explain later."
“You always say that and you never explain anything,” Buddy said.
The train rumbled past them and around the curve, picking up speed, until it dropped out of sight behind a thick stand of pines.
The three of them—Hedda, Erland, and Buddy—watched the point where they last saw the train. They heard only the rush of wind through the branches.
Then, from a distance much farther than even Erland thought possible, came the low, sad tone of the locomotive's horn.
After that, silence.
Not even the rustle of trees.
They all sat for some time. There were no landmarks, nothing except rails leading back the way they came. Under the starless sky, surrounded by forest, Erland could barely see the tip of his own tail.
Buddy tugged at Erland's sleeve. "Look!"
"The train's gone. There's nothing more to see."
"But, I see lights."
"Buddy… just… We're all tired."
"Lights, Papa. The City. Please look."
Erland studied the point where he last saw the train. To his surprise, there seemed to be a faint yellow-white glow, slightly above the level of the farthest hills, a glow reminiscent of the distant halo of street lights and the lights of buildings. If he looked at it directly, the glow faded into the black of the night sky. If he looked slightly away, using his peripheral vision, the glow returned.
"I think," Erland said, intrigued, "I see something."
"Mama?" Buddy said.
Hedda rested her head on Erland's shoulder. She was looking in another direction, straight up into the black, featureless sky. She watched as a few pinpoints of different colors gradually appeared, then more, and more, until there were lights the likes of which she’d never seen, thousands upon thousands. And when the wind blew again, she gasped as a single streak of light arced upward, toward the center of it all.
"Yes," Hedda whispered in astonishment. "I can see it, now."
#
The family made their way back to town.
Over the next several months, the floods receded, the rumors died down, and all Foxes came out of hiding to return to their normal lives, though still keeping a low profile, of course.
Erland and Hedda held the memory of Pip close to their hearts for the rest of their years. Erland thought often about the lights he'd seen that night, and though he never spoke about it with Hedda, he never raised a fuss when she told others about her vision of the City or about the mysteries of the Book. As for Hedda, she channeled her anguish into a relentless effort to educate Buddy, and helped him develop the cleverness that all Foxes need to survive.
One day, on a far-off evening in November, an evening with the kind of dampness that settles into your bones, the train returned.
This time, Buddy had a plan.
Dedicated to all parents. If you know, you know.
Check out the Behind the Story post for some background on this series.
I enjoyed this story, Todd, and am looking forward to reading the next. I had no idea what to expect from one episode to the next. Great twist on the train, and love the ending.