the coal mine through a different exit. One he had never seen before. One that was hidden on the real side. What he saw terrified him.
It was a lovely little garden.
A perfect little garden with flowers and grass and evergreens. The trees were so thick that the snow couldn’t find its way to the ground. But the light could. The daylight was beautiful. The weather was unseasonably warm. A perfect spring day mixed with a crisp, balmy autumn. Christopher had never felt such perfection.
The procession stopped.
The hissing lady stood in front of a tall tree. Christopher looked up and saw something—beautiful and white—perched on the tree’s thick branches ten feet off the ground. He saw a ladder descending below it like baby teeth. And a bright, red door.
It was David Olson’s tree house.
“David!” the hissing lady called out. “Come out!”
The door to the tree house opened. David Olson stood in the doorway. He crawled down the tree like a serpent and slithered over to the hissing lady. She patted his head as if to say, “Good boy.” She turned to the crowd and raised her hand. The drums sounded. The mailbox people dragged the nice man up the ladder. The hissing lady followed.
The last to go into the tree house was David. As he stood in the doorway, he looked back out into the woods. Maybe he knew Christopher was there. Maybe he thought his message didn’t make it to Christopher in time. Whatever it was, he had the saddest eyes Christopher had ever seen.
“David! Now!” the hissing lady barked.
David followed her into the tree house like a dutiful little dog and closed the door.
Christopher looked at the red sky through the branches.
He had thirty seconds of daylight left.
There were still dozens of deer and mailbox people around the tree. Standing guard. Preparing for battle. Worshipping. Christopher had no time to lose.
He ran to the tree house.
“What is that sound?” the voices hissed.
Christopher didn’t stop. He ran faster and faster to the tree house. He had to get into it before sundown. It was the only element of surprise he had left. He ran around the mailbox people. Jumped over the deer.
“Is he here? Where is he?” the voices yelled.
Christopher raced to the foot of the tree. He grabbed the ladder and began to climb the little baby teeth. The daylight was fading.
Christopher reached the tree house.
The little glass window was fogged from the cold. Christopher couldn’t see in. He had no idea what was in there. He listened to the door. There was no sound.
Christopher turned the knob. He slowly opened the door. His heart raced. He looked into the tree house. There was no one in it. Just an old picture of Ambrose hanging on the wall. The only other decorations were scratches from fingernails. David trying to get out? Something trying to get in? The mailbox people and hissing lady were long gone. There was no trace of David Olson. No sign of the nice man. What was this tree house? A portal? A door to another level? A mousetrap?
He stepped into David’s tree house.
Christopher turned back to the horizon. He saw the last sliver of sun touching the top of the earth. The clouds floated like an audience of faces. He could feel the whole town. Thousands of frogs trying to fight their way out of boiling water.
Christopher walked into the tree house. He had no idea what would happen when he closed that door and walked into the place where nightmares are so scary, we can’t remember them when we wake up.
The world went quiet. Christopher thought that he might be walking to his own death. But he had no choice.
Christopher closed the door just as night fell.
Chapter 83
beEp.
Christopher’s mother was so focused on David Olson’s diary that she didn’t hear the machine at first.
beEp.
She read the last entry again. There had to be something they’d missed. Some clue to help Christopher. David went to his tree house that night. David went into the woods. He was never seen again. What happened to David Olson in the woods? How did he die that night?
beEp. beEp.
“What is that sound?” Ambrose asked.
Christopher’s mother looked at Ambrose. Even with the bandages covering his eyes, she could read the fear on his face. A horrible weight pressed on her chest. The room sounded like she was lying in a bathtub. The world under water.
beEp. beEp. beEp.
The third sound was unmistakable. Something had changed. She turned to the life-support machine,