THE BOXCAR CHILDREN AND THE ZOMBIES, Ch. IV – Henry Has Two Surprises . . . (Lame Though They May Be)

Jessie whispered, “Keep still!”

The three children did not say a word. They sat quietly in the boxcar, looking at the bushes, waiting for more undead ghouls.

“I wonder if it’s a bear,” thought Benny. “It’d be great if it was just a regular bear. Not a zombie bear.”

Soon something came out. But it wasn’t a bear. It was a dog, which hopped along on three legs, crying softly and holding up a front paw.

“It’s all right,” said Jessie. “It’s only a dog, but I think he is hurt.”

The dog looked up and saw the children, and then he wagged his tail.

“Poor dog,” said Jessie. “Are you lost? Come over here and let me look at your paw.”

The dog hopped over to the boxcar, and the children got out.

Jessie looked at the paw and said, “Oh, dear! You poor dog! There is a big thorn in your foot! But at least nothing has bitten you to make you among the undead.”

The dog stopped crying and looked at Jessie.

“Good dog,” said Jessie. “I can help you, but maybe it will hurt.”

The dog looked up at Jessie and wagged his tail again.

“Violet,” ordered Jessie, “please wet my handkerchief in the brook.”

Jessie sat down on the bloody tree stump and took the dog in her lap. She patted him and gave him a little piece of bread. Then she began to pull out the thorn. It was a long thorn, but the dog did not make any noise. Jessie pulled and pulled, and at last the thorn came out.

Violet had a wet handkerchief ready. Jessie put it around the dog’s paw, and he looked up at her and wagged his tail a little.

“He wants to say ‘Thank you,’ Jessie!” cried violet. “He is a good dog not to cry.”

“Yes, he is,” agreed Jessie. “Now I had better hold him for awhile so that he will lie down and rest his leg.”

“We can surprise Henry,” remarked Benny. “Now we have a dog.”

“So we can,” said Jessie. “But that was not my surprise. I was going to get a lot of blueberries for supper.”

“Can’t we look for blueberries, while you hold the dog?” asked Violet.

“Yes, you can,” said Jessie. “Look over there by the big trees.”

Benny and Violet ran over to look.

“Oh, Jessie!” cried Benny. “Did you ever see so many blueberries? I guess five blueberries! No, I guess ten blueberries!”

Jessie laughed, “I guess there are more than five or ten, Benny,” she said. “Get a clean towel and pick them into it.”

For awhile Jessie watched Benny and Violet picking blueberries. Standing watch like this did not bother her.

“Most of Benny’s blueberries are going into his mouth,” she thought with a laugh. “But maybe that’s just as well. He won’t get so hungry waiting for Henry to come back with the milk.”

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She carried the dog over to the children and sat down beside them, the dog on her lap. With her help the towel was soon full of blueberries.

“I wish we had some dishes,” Jessie said. “The we could have blue berries and milk.”

“Never mind,” said Violet. “When Henry comes, we can eat some blueberries and then take a drink of milk.”

When Henry came, he had some heavy bundles. He had four bottles of milk in a bag, a loaf of brown bread, and also some fine yellow cheese.

He looked at the dog.

“Where did you get that fine dog?” he cried. Again, Henry . . . not so smart.

“He came to us,” said Benny, “he is a surprise for you.”

Henry went over to the dog, who wagged his tail. Henry patted him and said, “He ought to be a good watchdog. Why is the handkerchief on his foot?”

“He had a big thorn in his foot,” answered Violet, “and Jessie took it out and put on the handkerchief. It hurt him, but he did not cry or growl.”

“His name is Watch,” remarked Benny.

“Oh, is it?” asked Jessie, laughing. “Watch is a good name for a watchdog.”

“Did you bring some milk?” asked Benny, looking hungrily at the bottles.

“I should say I did!” replied Henry. “Four bottles!”

“Pool old Benny!” said Jessie “We’ll have dinner now. Or is it supper?”

“It must be supper,” said Henry, “for soon we’ll have to go to bed.”

“Tomorrow we’ll eat three times,” said Jessie.

Now Jessie liked to have things in order, and so she put the laundry bag on some pine needs for a tablecloth. Then she cut the loaf of brown bread into five big pieces. The cheese was cut into four.

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“Dogs don’t like cheese,” remarked Benny. The poor little boy was glad, too, for he was very hungry.

Violet put the four bottles of milk on the table and Jessie put some blueberries and cheese at each place.

“Blueberries,” cried Henry. “Jessie, you had two surprises for me!”

“I’m sorry we haven’t any cups,” Jessie said. “We’ll have to drink out of the bottles. Now all come and sit down.”

Supper began, “Look, Benny,” said Henry. “You take some blueberries, then eat some brown bread, then some cheese, then take a drink of milk.”

“It’s good,” said Benny. He began to put more blueberries into his mouth.

“The dog had supper, too. Jessie gave him bread as he lay on the ground beside her, and he drank milk out of her hand.

When supper was over, there was some milk left in each bottle.

“We’ll have the rest of the milk for breakfast,” said Jessie. “Tonight we are going to sleep on beds. “Let’s get some pine needles now.”

Soon the children had a big pile. Henry jumped into the boxcar, and Jessie gave him the pine needles. He made four beds in one end of the car.

“This side is the bedroom,” said Jessie.

“What will the other side be?” asked Benny.

“The other side?” asked Jessie. “Let me think. I guess that will be the sitting room, and maybe some of the time it will be the kitchen. And when we have to shut the door to keep the zombies out we will think of this as a fort. I still can’t believe there are many of them nearby.”

“I polished off those two, no waiting,” chirped Violet.

“Yes,” Jessie sad. “Yes, you did.”

The Jessie said, “Come, now. Come and get washed. She took the cake of soap and went down to the brook.

“That will be fun, Benny,” said Violet. “We’ll splash our ‘paws’ in the brook just as the Little Brown bear does.” She knew that Benny did not like to be washed.

The children were all very hot, and so they were glad to splash in the cold water. Benny put cold water and soap on his face with the others and dried his hands on a towel.

“We’ll have to have a line to dry the towels on,” said Jessie. “We could trip zombies with a rope, too.”

“So she took the string out of the laundry bag and tied one end of it to a tree. The other end of the strong she tied to the boxcar. This made a good clothesline. When she had washed one towel and Violet had washed the other one, they hung both towels on the clothesline.

“It looks like home,” said Henry. There’s had been a shabby home. “See the washing!” He laughed a not very bright laugh.

Jessie was thinking.

“We ought to get some water to drink before we go to bed,” she said. “But what shall we put it in?

“Let’s put all the milk into two bottles,” said Henry in a small flash of smarts. “Then we can fill the other two with water.”

“Good,” said Jessie. “You go alone to the fountain, Henry. You can hide if anyone or anything comes along.”

Henry went out very quietly, and soon came back with two bottles full of cold water. Benny drank a little, but he was almost asleep.

The other children helped him into the boxcar. Then they all climbed in, Jessie carrying the dog. He lay down at once beside her.

Soon they were fast asleep, dog and all. The moon came up, but they did not see it. This was the first time in four days that they could go to sleep at night, as living children should.

THE BOXCAR CHILDREN AND THE ZOMBIES, Ch. III — A New Home in the Woods . . . the Dark, Dark Woods

At last Jessie opened her eyes. It was morning, but the sun was covered by clouds. The color of the sky was like a giant bruise. She sat up and looked all around her. It seemed like night because it was so, so dark. Suddenly it began to thunder, and she saw that it was really going to rain.

“PSM V47 D661 Fracto nimbus advance clouds of a thunderstorm” by Unknown. Hover on photo for details.

“What shall we do? Where shall we go?” thought Jessie.

The wind was blowing more and more clouds across the sky, and the lightning was very near.

She walked a little way into the wood, looking for a place to go out of the rain.

“Where shall we go?” she thought again.

Then she saw something ahead of her in the woods. It was an old boxcar.

“What a good house that will be in the rain!” she thought.

She ran over to the boxcar. There was no engine, and the track was old and rusty. It was covered with grass and bushes because it had not been used for a long time.

“It is a boxcar,” Jessie said. “We can get into it and stay until it stops raining.”

She ran back as fast as she could to the other children. The sky was black, and the wind was blowing very hard.

“Hurry! Hurry!” cried Jessie. “I have found a good and safe place! Hurry as fast as you can!”

Henry took Benny’s hand, and they all ran through the woods after Jessie. Violet trailed the group to make sure nothing followed them.

“It’s beginning to rain!” cried Henry.

“We’ll soon be there,” Jessie shouted back. “It is not far. When we get there, you must help me open the door. It is heavy.”

The stump of a big tree stood under the door of the boxcar. There looked to be blood on it. It bothered the children none at all. They had seen more blood than that for free with their breakfast cereal. Jessie and Henry jumped up on the old stump and rolled back the heavy door of the car. Henry looked in. No one looked to be home.

“There is nothing in here,” he said. “Come, Benny. We’ll help you up.”

Violet popped in next, and, last of all, Jessie and Henry climbed in.

They were just in time. How the wind did blow! They rolled the door shut, and then it really began to rain. Oh, how it did rain! It just rained and rained.

Violet looked through the slats of the boxcar’s side. Her eyes grew wide.

“Look!” she said. “Look . . . the undead!”

Two zombies were stumbling toward the boxcar. One might have been a farmer at one time. He wore ragged overalls. The other might have been a businessman. He still wore a tie.

“What will we do? What will we do?” cried Jessie.

“We will stay quiet and stay in here and see what happens,” said Henry. They all crouched low.

At there very moment, a crack of lightning and thunder loudly burst over there heads. It made the children jump a bit and Benny shrieked until Violet popped a hand over his mouth.

The lightning made the zombies look straight up. And they continued to look straight up. They looked straight up into the pouring rain for five, then ten, then fifteen minutes. At seventeen minutes they both fell over. Even in the pounding rain, they could be heard gurgling.

“They are water logged!” Henry cried. “They can’t drown, but they are too heavy from drinking in the pouring rain! Stupid zombies!”

Before anyone could say more, Violet had pushed open the boxcar door and found a railroad spike in the mud. Thirty seconds later, the undead had been made completely dead by a 10-year-old girl. After her assault, Violet stood in the rain to wash the gore off her clothes.

The other children remained in the boxcar with their mouths open. Violet returned.

“What a good place this is!” Violet said. “This boxcar is just like a warm little house with one room.”

After awhile the rain and lightning and thunder stopped, and the wind did not blow so hard. Then Henry opened the door and looked out. Yep, the two zombies were now permanently out of commission, he thought. All the children looked out into woods. The sun was shining, but some water still fell from the trees. In front of the boxcar was a pretty little brook ran out the rocks, with a waterfall in it.

After Henry and Jessie dragged the now very dead farmer and businessman deeper into the woods to rot, the children all gathered near the boxcar.

“What a beautiful place!” said Violet. “And if they come in ones and twos at a time, I can take them!

“Henry,” cried Jessie. “Let’s live here!”

“Live here?” asked Henry. He was a pretty boy, but a little slow.

“Yes! Why not?” said Jessie. “This boxcar is a fine little house. It is dry and warm in the rain.”

“We could wash in the brook,” said Violet.

“Please, Henry,” said Jessie. “We could have the nicest little home here, and we could find some dishes, and make four beds and a table, and maybe chairs.”

“No,” said Benny. “I don’t want to live here, Jessie.”

“Oh, dear, why not, Benny?” asked Jessie.

“I’m afraid the engine will come and take us away,” answered Benny.

Henry and Jessie laughed. “Oh, no, Benny,” said Henry. “The engine will never take this car away. It is an old, old, car, and grass and bushes are growing all over the track.”

“Then doesn’t the engine use this track anymore?” asked Benny. “There must be a few train engineers left in the world.”

“They don’t use the track anymore. I don’t know about the engineers,” said Henry. He was beginning to want to live in the boxcar, too. “We’ll stay here today, anyway.”

“Then can I have my dinner here?” asked Benny.

“Yes, you shall have dinner now,” said Henry.

So Jessie took out the last loaf of bread and cut it into four pieces, but it was very dry. Benny ate the bread, but soon began to cry.

“I want some milk, too, Jessie,” he begged.

“He ought to have milk,” said Henry. “I’ll go to the next town and get some.”

But Henry did not want to start. He looked to see how much money he had. Then he stood thinking.

At last he said, “I don’t want to leave you girls alone.”

“Oh,” said Jessie, “We’ll be all right, Henry. We’ll have a surprise for you when you come back. You just wait and see!”

“Good-by, Henry,” said Benny.

So Henry walked off through the woods.

When he had gone, Jessie said, “Now, children, what do you think we are going to do? What do you think I saw over in the wood? I saw some blueberries!”

“Oh, oh!” cried Benny. “I know what blueberries are. Can we have blueberries and milk, Jessie?

“Yes,” Jessie was beginning. But she suddenly stopped, for she heard a noise. Crack, crack, crack! Something was in the woods.

THE BOXCAR CHILDREN AND THE ZOMBIES, Ch. II – Night Is Turned into Day . . . Thank Goodness

Soon the children left the town and came to a road. An, oh so quiet road. The big yellow moon was out, and, mercifully, they could see everything very well.

“We must walk fast,” said Henry. “I hope the baker and his wife don’t wake up and find us gone.”

“The Blue Moon” by Josué Cedeño – Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons – http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Blue_Moon.jpeg#mediaviewer/File:The_Blue_Moon.jpeg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As they had before, they walked down the road as fast, and as quietly, as they could.

“How far can you carry Benny?” asked Violet.

“Oh, I can carry him a long way,” replied Henry. He hid his fear well. He never wanted to be confronted with the choice of dropping his little brother for self-preservation versus being consumed. It haunted him when he slept. If he slept.

But Jessie said, “I think we could go faster if we woke him up now. We could take his hands and help him along.”

Henry stopped and put Benny down.

“Come, Benny,” he said. “You must wake up and walk now. And I mean walk. Not stumble or canter or amble like those who should be in the grave.”

“Go away!” said Benny.

“Let me try,” said Violet. “Now, Benny you can play that you are a little brown bear. Not an undead bear, but a real, live bear. And you are running away to find a nice warm bed. Henry and Jessie will help you, and we’ll find a bed.”

Benny like being a little, living brown bear, and so he woke up and opened his eyes. Henry and Jessie took his hands, and they went on again.

They passed some farmhouses. Hard to tell if they had been overrun or not. They were all dark and quiet. The children did not see anyone or anything. They walked for a long time. Then the red sun came up.

“We must find a safe place to sleep,” said Jessie. “I am so tired.”

Little Benny was asleep, and Henry was carrying him again. The other children began to look for a safe place.

At last Violet said, “Look over there.” She was pointing to a big haystack in a field near what looked to be an un-assaulted farmhouse.

“Romanian hay” by Paulnasca – Transferred from the English Wikipedia. Original file is/was here. (Original upload log available below.). Licensed under CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Romanian_hay.jpg#mediaviewer/File:Romanian_hay.jpg

“A fine place, Violet,” said Henry. “See what a big haystack it is!”

They ran across the field toward the farmhouse. They jumped over a brook, and then they came to the haystack. Henry was still carrying Benny.

Jessie began to make a nest in the haystack for Benny, and when they put him into it, he went to sleep again at once. The other children also made nests.

“Good night!” said Henry, laughing.

“It is ‘Good morning,’ I should think,” replied Jessie. “We sleep in the day, and we walk all night. Kind of like the undead! When it is night again, we’ll wake up and walk some more. I worry about what’s out there in the night, but oh, well!”

The children were so tired that they went right to sleep. They slept all day, and it was night again when they woke up.

Benny said at once, “Oh, Jessie, I’m hungry. I want something to eat.”

“Good old Benny,” said Henry. “We’ll have supper.”

Jessie took out a loaf of bread and cut it into four pieces. It was soon gone.

“I want some water,” begged Benny.

“Not now,” said Henry. “You may have some water when it gets dark. There is a pump near the farmhouse. But if we have the haystack now, someone – or some thing – will see us. Do you want to be gnawed on?”

When it was dark, the children came out of the haystack and went quietly toward the farmhouse, which was dark and still. Nearby was a pump, and Henry pumped water as quietly as he could. He did not even wake up the hens and chickens.

“I want a cup,” said Benny.

“No, Benny,” whispered Henry. “You will have to put your mouth right in the water. You can play you are a horse.”

This pleased Benny. Henry pumped and pumped, and at last Benny had all the water he wanted. The water was cold and sweet, and all the children drank.

Then they ran across the field toward the road.

“If we hear anyone, living or dead,” said Jessie, “we must hide behind the bushes.”

Just as she said this, the children heard a horse and cart coming up the road. It was driven by a zombie couple. The horse also looked dazed. He had a bleeding bite mark on his flank.

“Keep very still, Benny!” whispered Henry. “Don’t say a word. And we need to stay downwind.”

The children got behind the bushes as fast as they could, for they did not have much time to hide. It was good that the undead move slow, even when riding in a cart. The horse – neigh/moaning softly – came nearer and nearer and began to walk up the hill toward them. The children could hear a man talking. This was a new zombie. It was the baker! Or rather, the late baker!

“Children . . . gone. Hungry,” murmured the baker. “No far. Children no far . . . Seek them . . . find them . . . seek . . .”

“MMMmMmmm . . .,” answered his now zombified wife. “No like children . . . like brains. Seek . . . seek.”

The children watched until the horse and cart had gone down he road. Then they came out from behind the bushes and looked at each other.

“My, I am glad those people did not see us!” said Henry. “You were a good boy, Benny, to keep still.”

Violet thought silently that she could have saved them from becoming the undead if only she had slit the throats of the baker and his wife when she had the chance. Too late now, she thought. Now, she thought, I’ll need a shotgun.

“I wonder how far it is to the next town,” said Jessie. “I think that’s Silver City.”

The children were very happy as they walked along the road. They knew the zombie baker and his zombie wife were not going to find them. They walked until two o’clock in the morning, and then they came to some signs by the sides of the road.

The moon came out from behind the clouds, and Henry could read the signs.

“One says that Greenfield is this way,” he said. “The other signs points to Silver City. We don’t want to go to Greenfield. I think it’s been hit by the plague harder than most. Let’s take this other road to Silver City.”

They walked for a long time, but they did not see anyone.

“Not many people are left out here, I guess,” said Henry. “And once they’re gone, well, there’s nothing left to feed the zombies. But that is all the better.”

“Listen!” said Benny suddenly. “ I hear something.”

Violet dropped to the ground, felt it for vibrations and hissed “Listen!”

The children stood still and listened, and they could hear water running.

“I want a drink of water, Henry!” said Benny.

“Well, let’s go on,” said Henry, “and see where the water is. I’d like a drink, too.”

Soon the children saw a drinking fountain by the side of the road.

“Oh, what a fine fountain this is!” said Henry, running toward it. “See the place for people to drink up high, and a place in the middle for horses, and one for dogs down below.”

All the children drank some water. Jessie mentioned that this would not be a place where zombies come to. Zombies don’t need water.

“They don’t even need milk or multivitamins, either,” she added. “They’d be easy to get along with if they just didn’t eat people.”

“Now I want to go to bed,” said Benny.

Jessie laughed. “You can go to bed very soon.”

Henry was looking down a little side road, which had grass growing in the middle of it. It looked undisturbed.

“Come!” he cried. “This road goes into the wood. We can sleep in the woods as long as we keep on the lookout.”

“This is a good place,” said Jessie, as they walked along. “It is far away from anyone living or dead. You can tell that by the grass in the road.”

“And it will be near the drinking fountain,” said Violet, who was thinking strategically.

“That’s right!” cried Henry. “You think of everything, Violet.”

“It is almost morning,” remarked Jessie. “And how hot it is!”

“I’m glad it is hot,” said Henry, “for we must sleep on the ground. Let’s find some pine needles for beds.”

The children went into the woods and soon made four beds of pine needles.

“I hope it’s not going to rain,” said Jessie, as she lay down.

Then she looked up at the sky.

“It looks like rain, for the moon has gone behind the clouds.”

She shut her eyes and did not open them again for a long time. She was so, so tired of it all. So freaking tired of it all.

More clouds rolled across the sky, and the wind began to blow. There was lightning, also, and thunder, but the children did not hear it. They were all fast asleep.

The Boxcar Children and the Zombies, Ch. I—The Four Hungry Children . . . so hungry

One warm night four children stood in front of a bakery. No one knew them. No one, no thing, was yet pursuing them. No one knew where they had come from.

The baker’s wife saw them first, as they stood looking in at the window of her store. No one yet knew what was ahead. And all was quiet and unafraid. At least for now.

The little boy was looking at the cakes, the big boy was looking at the loaves of bread, and the two girls were looking at the cookies.

“Main Street #2” by Kevin Dooley is licensed under CC BY 2.0

Now the baker’s wife did not like the children. But at least she was among the living. She did not like the boys at all. So she came to the front of the bakery and listened, looking very cross.

“The cake is good, Jessie,” the little boy said. He was about five years old.

“Yes, Benny,” said the big girl, who was more than a little world weary. “But bread is better for you. It helps keep you fast. Isn’t that true, Henry?”

“Oh, yes,” said Henry. “Bread makes you strong and fast. We must have some bread, and cake is not good for Benny and Violet.”

“I like bread best, anyway,” said Violet. She was about ten years old, and she had pretty brown hair and brown eyes. She was stealthy.

“That is just like you, Violet,” said Henry, smiling at her. The smile was also tired, a little forced. So much was just a matter of moments before whatever would come next. Days seemed like weeks to Henry, but what was a living person to do . . . even at this age? “Let’s go into the bakery. Maybe they will let us stay here for the night.”

The baker’s wife looked at them as they came in. The children looked good and alive, even in the twilight.

“I want three loaves of bread, please,” said Jessie.

She smiled politely at the woman, but the woman did not smile. She looked at Henry as he put his hand in his pocket for the money. He had no pistol. She looked cross, but she sold him the bread. She had no firearm, either.

Jessie was looking around, too, and she saw a long red bench under each window of the bakery. The benches had flat red pillows on them.

“Will you let us stay here for the night?” Jessie asked. “We are not among the undead, and we could sleep on those benches, and tomorrow we would help you wash the dishes and do things for you.”

Now the woman liked this. She did not like to wash dishes almost as much as she disliked things that went bump in the night. She would like to have a big boy to help her with her work. And she could push one of them into the yard if necessary.

“Where are you father and mother?” she asked. She already knew the answer.

“They are dead . . . or undead,” said Henry.

“We have grandfather in Greenfield, but we don’t like him,” said Benny.

Jessie put her hand over the little boy’s mouth before he could say more.

“Oh, Benny, keep still!” she said.

“Why don’t you like your grandfather?” asked the woman.

“He is our father’s father, and he didn’t like out mother. And this was before the long plague,” said Henry. “So we don’t think he would like us. He doesn’t even know we are among the living. He may be among the undead, anyway. We are afraid, in any case that he would be mean to us.”

“Did you ever see him?” asked the woman. “He may still be among those that still breathe, the real.”

“No,” answered Henry. “And being alive doesn’t mean love. Or even liking someone.”

“You’re silly, child. Why do you think he would be mean to you?” asked the woman.

“Well, he never came to see us,” said Henry. “He doesn’t like us at all. And now . . . well, now . . . “

“Where did you live before you came here?” asked the woman.

But not one of the four children would tell her. And there was no sound in the distance. No shuffling, no moaning. Nothing.

“We’ll get along all right,” Jessie said. “We want to stay here for only one night.”

“You may stay here tonight,” said the woman at last. “And tomorrow we’ll see what we can do.”

Henry thanked her politely. He did not trust her. He trusted so very, very few.

“We are all pretty tired and hungry,” he said. “But hungry in the appropriate and living human way.”

The children sat down on the floor. Henry cut one of the loaves of bread into four pieces with his knife, and the children began to eat.

“Delicious!” said Henry.

“breakfast” by Ross Pollack is licensed under CC BY ShareAlike 2.0

“Well, I never!” said the woman.

She went into the next room and shut the door. The children heard her set one, two, three heavy locks.

“I’m glad she is gone,” remarked Benny, eating. “She doesn’t like us.”

“Sh, Benny!” said Jessie. “She is good to let us sleep here.”

After supper the children lay down on their red benches, and Violet and Benny soon went to sleep.

But Jessie and Henry, who always slept with an ear and eye open, could hear the woman talking to the baker.

She said, “I’ll keep the three older children. They can help me. But the little boy, that little piece of veal, he must go. He is too little I cannot take care of him.”

The baker answered, “Very well. Tomorrow I’ll take the little boy out into the woods. It won’t take long. We’ll keep the others for awhile, but we must make them tell us who their grandfather is.”

Jessie and Henry waited until the baker and his wife had gone to bed. Then the sat up in the dark.

“Oh, Henry!” whispered Jessie. “Let’s run away from here!”

“Yes, indeed,” said Henry. “We’ll never let Benny become a snack for the creatures in the woods. Never, never! We must be far away by morning, or these living people will find us. But we must not leave any of our things here.”

Jessie sat still, thinking. She contemplated the treachery of people. She would mark this, remember this. It would grow in her gut over time. Such rage in someone so young.

“Our clothes and a cake of soap and towels are in the big laundry bag,” she said. “Violet has her little workbag. And we have two loaves of bread left. Have you your knife and the money?”

“Yes,” said Henry. “I have almost four dollars.”

“You must carry Benny,” said Jessie. “He will cry if we wake him up. But I’ll wake Violet.”

“Sh, Violet! Come! We are going to run away again. If we don’t run away, the baker will take Benny out to . . . to . . .to . . . it’s too horrible to think about.”

The little girl woke at once, and she understood. She sat up and rolled off the bench. Like a ninja, she made no sound.

“What shall I do?” She whispered softly. “Is there someone, something that needs to be made silent?”

“Just carry this,” said Jessie. She gave her the workbag.

Jessie put the two loaves of bread into the laundry bad, and then she looked around the room.

“All right,” she said to Henry. “Take Benny now.”

Henry took Benny in his arms and carried him to the door of the bakery. Jessie took the laundry bag and opened the door very softly. She hoped nothing in the night could smell them. All the children went out quietly. They did not say a word. Jessie shut the door, and then they all listened. Everything was very quiet. So the four children went down the street.