The Bridge to Never Land by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson Page B
Authors: Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson
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hundreds on the sidewalk, with more streaming across the lobby and out the front entrance. But the doorman veered right, toward a side entrance. Sarah followed about twenty feet behind him with Aidan, reluctantly, on her heels.
The doorman started across a street, walking directly into the path of a taxi, which swerved to avoid him, its driver yelling something unpleasant. The doorman paid no attention, continuing across the street and into the park above which Sarah and Aidan had flown the night before. Sarah stopped on the sidewalk, watching.
“Where’s he going?” said Aidan.
“I don’t know,” said Sarah. “It’s like he didn’t even hear that taxi…”
The doorman walked toward a huge oak, its branches lush with leaves. When he reached it, he stopped. For thirty seconds he stood motionless.
Then a raven landed in the tree.
Then another.
Then a dozen more.
And still more, and more, and more. Hundreds more. The tree was black now, its branches bending under the weight of the huge black birds.
Aidan put his hand on Sarah’s arm.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
Sarah stayed where she was, her eyes fixed on the scene.
Suddenly, the tree came alive as the birds, moving as one fluid mass, rose from the upper canopy of the tree in a coil of black, like an enormous snake. With a roar of beating wings, the coil arched upward and then swiftly curved down, engulfing the doorman in a tornado of black feathers. The only sound was of beating wings. Then, as swiftly as they had descended, the mass of birds began to rise; the top of the mass again began to form a snakelike shape even as the bottom still covered the doorman.
The top arched and began to swivel, as if looking for something. And then it stopped.
It was pointing toward Sarah.
“Uh-oh,” said Aidan.
“Run!” shouted Sarah.
Dodging traffic, she and Aidan sprinted back across the street toward the hotel. Behind them they heard the all-too-familiar roar of beating wings. Sarah glanced back and saw the dark mass swooping toward them. Behind the mass she caught a glimpse of a figure crumpled on the ground—the doorman, or what was left of him.
“Hurry!” she shouted to Aidan, who needed no encouragement. Moments later they reached the hotel, where the crowd was flowing back into the lobby; the alarm had apparently been declared false.
Sarah and Aidan plunged into the mob, then looked anxiously back; to their relief, they saw that the black mass of birds had veered away and was breaking apart, the ravens now flying separately, like ordinary birds. They flew off in all directions; in seconds they were gone. A few members of the crowd had noticed their odd behavior and were pointing upward, but most people were focused on getting back into the hotel. In the distance, Sarah and Aidan saw figures in the park gathered around the fallen form of the doorman.
They entered the lobby and spotted their parents on the far side, anxiously scanning the crowd. A moment later their parents saw them and started working their way toward them, their expressions a mixture of relief and anger.
“Sarah,” said Aidan urgently, “we can’t keep the box.
You saw what happened to the doorman.”
“Yes,” said Sarah. “Ombra shadowized him. And then he…I don’t know what he did to him in the park. I guess he was angry at him because he failed.”
“Yes, but now he’ll just shadowize somebody else. He’s going to keep coming, Sarah. As long as we have the box, he’s going to keep coming. Do you see that? Do you see that ?”
Their parents had almost reached them. Sarah shifted the backpack, acutely aware of the heavy weight of the box. “Yes,” she said. “I see.”
CHAPTER 12
ONLY BIRDS
T HEY WERE SURROUNDED BY CROWDS all that day as their parents took them out on one last round of sightseeing before their return to the United States. Sarah kept a tight grip on the backpack, and they both spent more time nervously scanning the sky than
The doorman started across a street, walking directly into the path of a taxi, which swerved to avoid him, its driver yelling something unpleasant. The doorman paid no attention, continuing across the street and into the park above which Sarah and Aidan had flown the night before. Sarah stopped on the sidewalk, watching.
“Where’s he going?” said Aidan.
“I don’t know,” said Sarah. “It’s like he didn’t even hear that taxi…”
The doorman walked toward a huge oak, its branches lush with leaves. When he reached it, he stopped. For thirty seconds he stood motionless.
Then a raven landed in the tree.
Then another.
Then a dozen more.
And still more, and more, and more. Hundreds more. The tree was black now, its branches bending under the weight of the huge black birds.
Aidan put his hand on Sarah’s arm.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
Sarah stayed where she was, her eyes fixed on the scene.
Suddenly, the tree came alive as the birds, moving as one fluid mass, rose from the upper canopy of the tree in a coil of black, like an enormous snake. With a roar of beating wings, the coil arched upward and then swiftly curved down, engulfing the doorman in a tornado of black feathers. The only sound was of beating wings. Then, as swiftly as they had descended, the mass of birds began to rise; the top of the mass again began to form a snakelike shape even as the bottom still covered the doorman.
The top arched and began to swivel, as if looking for something. And then it stopped.
It was pointing toward Sarah.
“Uh-oh,” said Aidan.
“Run!” shouted Sarah.
Dodging traffic, she and Aidan sprinted back across the street toward the hotel. Behind them they heard the all-too-familiar roar of beating wings. Sarah glanced back and saw the dark mass swooping toward them. Behind the mass she caught a glimpse of a figure crumpled on the ground—the doorman, or what was left of him.
“Hurry!” she shouted to Aidan, who needed no encouragement. Moments later they reached the hotel, where the crowd was flowing back into the lobby; the alarm had apparently been declared false.
Sarah and Aidan plunged into the mob, then looked anxiously back; to their relief, they saw that the black mass of birds had veered away and was breaking apart, the ravens now flying separately, like ordinary birds. They flew off in all directions; in seconds they were gone. A few members of the crowd had noticed their odd behavior and were pointing upward, but most people were focused on getting back into the hotel. In the distance, Sarah and Aidan saw figures in the park gathered around the fallen form of the doorman.
They entered the lobby and spotted their parents on the far side, anxiously scanning the crowd. A moment later their parents saw them and started working their way toward them, their expressions a mixture of relief and anger.
“Sarah,” said Aidan urgently, “we can’t keep the box.
You saw what happened to the doorman.”
“Yes,” said Sarah. “Ombra shadowized him. And then he…I don’t know what he did to him in the park. I guess he was angry at him because he failed.”
“Yes, but now he’ll just shadowize somebody else. He’s going to keep coming, Sarah. As long as we have the box, he’s going to keep coming. Do you see that? Do you see that ?”
Their parents had almost reached them. Sarah shifted the backpack, acutely aware of the heavy weight of the box. “Yes,” she said. “I see.”
CHAPTER 12
ONLY BIRDS
T HEY WERE SURROUNDED BY CROWDS all that day as their parents took them out on one last round of sightseeing before their return to the United States. Sarah kept a tight grip on the backpack, and they both spent more time nervously scanning the sky than
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