Farewell Summer (6 page)

It was the middle of the night and Tom still couldn't sleep.

Doug knew this because several times he heard Tom's bedclothes fall to the floor, as if he were tossing and turning, and each time he heard the sound of the sheets and coverlet being reassembled.

At about two in the morning Doug went down to the icebox and brought a dish of ice cream up to Tom, which, he figured, might cause Tom to speak more freely.

Tom sat up in bed and hardly touched the ice cream. He sat there staring at it as it melted and then said, ‘Doug, an awful thing has happened.'

‘Yeah, Tom,' said Doug.

‘We thought if we stopped the big courthouse clock we might stop the old people from holding on to – stealing – our time. But nothing's been stopped, has it?'

‘No, sir,' said Doug.

‘I mean,' said Tom, ‘Time's still moving. Nothing's changed. Running home, I looked at all the lights around
us and none of them had gone out. I saw some policemen in the distance, down the street, and they hadn't been stopped. I kept waiting for all the lights to go out or something to happen to show that we'd really
done
something. But instead it looks as if someone might have been hurt. I mean, when you think about Will and Bo and the others, kinda limping home from the courthouse. I've got a feeling nobody's gonna sleep tonight and maybe when they do get to sleep, they'll sleep late, my gosh, they're gonna lie around, doing nothin', staying in bed, keeping quiet, and here I am for the first time in years, wide awake. I can't even shut my eyes. What are we going to do about it, Doug? I mean, you kept saying we had to kill the clock, but how do we make it live again, if we have to?'

‘The clock wasn't alive,' said Doug softly.

‘But you said,' said Tom. ‘Well,
I
said. I guess I started it. We all kept saying that we had to do it in, so we did, but what now? It looks like we'll all be in trouble now,' Tom finished.

‘Only me,' said Doug. ‘Grandpa will give me a talking–to.'

‘But we went along, Doug. It was swell. We liked it. We had
fun
. But now, if the clock was never alive, how do we bring it back from the dead? We can't have it both ways, but something's got to be done. What's next?'

‘Maybe I've got to go down to the courthouse and sign some sort of paper,' said Doug. ‘I could tell 'em I'll
give them my allowance for eight or ten years, so they can fix that clock.'

‘Ohmigosh, Doug!'

‘That's about the size of it,' said Doug, ‘when you want to revive a big thing like that. Eight or ten years. But what the heck, I guess I deserve it. So maybe tomorrow I'll go down and turn myself in.'

‘I'll go with you, Doug.'

‘No, sir,' said Doug.

‘Yes, I will. You're not going anywhere without old Tom.'

‘Tom,' said Doug. ‘I got only one thing to say to you.'

‘What?'

‘I'm glad I've got you for a younger brother.'

Doug turned, his face flushed, and started to walk out of the room.

‘I think I can make you gladder,' said Tom.

Doug halted.

‘When you think about the money,' said Tom. ‘What if the whole gang of us, the whole mob, went up in the clock tower and cleaned it up, if we did the whole machine over somehow? We couldn't repair the whole darned thing, no, but we could spend a couple hours and make it look right and maybe run right, maybe we could save all the expenses and save
you
from being a slave for the rest of your life.'

‘I don't know,' said Doug.

‘We could give it a try,' said Tom. ‘Ask Grandpa. He'll
ask the courthouse people if they'll let us up there again, this time with lots of polish and oil and sweat, and maybe we could bring the darn dead machine back to life. It's gotta work. It's
gonna
work, Doug. Let's do it.'

Doug turned and walked back to Tom's bed and sat on the edge. ‘Dibs on some of that ice cream,' he said.

‘Sure,' said Tom. ‘You get the first bite.'

The next day, at noon, Douglas walked home from school to have lunch. When he got there, his mother sent him straight next door to his grandparents' house. Grandpa was waiting, sitting in his favorite chair in a pool of light from his favorite lamp, in the library, where all was stillness and all the books on the shelves were standing alert and ready to be read.

Hearing the front door open, Grandpa, without looking up from his book, said, ‘Douglas?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Come in, boy, and sit down.'

It wasn't often that Grandpa offered you a chance to sit down, which meant there was very serious business ahead.

Douglas entered quietly and sat on the sofa across from Grandpa and waited.

Finally Grandpa put aside his book, which was also a sign of the serious nature of things, and took off his gold–rimmed specs, which was even more serious, and
looked at Douglas with what could only be called a piercing stare.

‘Now, Doug,' he said, ‘I've been reading one of my favorite authors, Mr Conan Doyle, and one of my favorite characters in all the books by Conan Doyle is Mr Sherlock Holmes. He has honed my spirit and sharpened my aspects. So on a day like today, I woke up feeling very much like that detective on Baker Street in London a long time ago.'

‘Yes, sir,' said Douglas, quietly.

‘I've been putting together bits and pieces of information and it seems to me that right now the town is afflicted by lots of boys who are suddenly staying home from school, sick, they say, or something or other. Number one is this: I heard tell from Grandma this morning a full report from your house next door. It seems that your brother Tom is doing poorly.'

‘I wouldn't say that exactly,' said Doug.

‘Well, if you won't, I will,' said Grandpa. ‘He feels poorly enough to stay home from school. It's not often Tom feels poorly. He's usually so full of pep and energy, I rarely see him when he isn't running. You have any idea about his affliction, Doug?'

‘No, sir,' said Doug.

‘I would hate to contradict you, boy, but I think you do know. But wait for me to add up all the other clues. I got a list here of the boys in your group, the ones I regularly see running under the apple trees, or climbing
in them, or kicking the can down the street. They're usually the ones with firecrackers in one hand and a lit match in the other.'

At this Douglas shut his eyes and swallowed hard.

‘I made it my business,' said Grandpa, ‘to call the homes of all those boys and, strange to say, they're all in bed. That seems most peculiar, Doug. Can you give me any reason why? Those boys are usually like squirrels on the sidewalk, you can't see 'em they move so fast. But they're all feeling sick, sleeping late. How about you, Doug?'

‘I'm fine.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘You don't look so fine to me. In fact, you look a little bit under the weather. Taking that together with the boys missing school and Tom feeling poorly and here you are, looking kind of pale around the gills, I figure there must have been some great commotion somewhere last night.'

Grandpa stopped and picked up a piece of paper he'd been holding on his lap.

‘I got a phone call a little earlier from the courthouse clerk. It seems they found a whole lot of fire–cracker paper somewhere in the City Hall this morning. Now that is a most peculiar place to find burnt firecracker paper. The clerk told me they're going to have to do quite a lot of repairs in City Hall. They don't say quite
what it is they have to fix, but the bill is sizeable and I figure if we apportion it out to various homesteads in the town, it will come to about …' Here Grandpa put his glasses back on his fine big nose before continuing. ‘… $70.90 per homestead. Now, most of the people I know around here don't have that kind of money. In order to get it, the people in those homes will have to work quite a few days or maybe weeks or, who knows, months. Would you like to see the list of repairs that have to be done in City Hall, Doug? I've got it right here.'

‘I don't think so,' said Doug.

‘I think you'd better look and study, boy. Here goes.' He handed the piece of paper to Doug.

Doug stared at the list. His eyes were so fogged that he couldn't read it. The numbers were immense and they seemed to extend far into the future, not just weeks or months, but ohmigosh, years.

‘Doug, I want you to do me a favor,' said Grandpa. ‘I want you to take this list and play the part of doctor. I want you to make a series of house calls when school lets out for the day. First of all, go over to your house and see how Tom is doing. Tell him that Grandpa wants him to buy a couple of Eskimo Pies and come over and eat them on the front porch with me this afternoon. Say that to Tom, Doug, and see if his face doesn't brighten up.'

‘Yes, sir,' said Doug.

‘Then, later, I want you to go to all the other boys' houses and see how your friends are doing. Afterward, come back and give me a report, because all those boys who are lying low need something to make them sit up in bed. I'll be waiting for you. Does that seem fair to you?'

‘Yes, sir,' said Doug, and stood up. ‘Grandpa, can I say something?'

‘What's that, Doug?'

‘You're pretty great, Grandpa.'

Grandpa mused over that for a few moments before saying, ‘Not great, Doug, just perceptive. Have you ever looked that word up in Webster's Dictionary?'

‘No, sir.'

‘Well, before you leave, open Mr Webster and see what he has to say.'

It was getting late and they were still up in the clock tower, nine boys working and cleaning out the firecracker dust and bits of burnt paper. It made a neat little pile outside the door.

It was a hot evening and all the boys were perspiring and talking under their breath and wishing they were somewhere else, almost wishing they were in school, which would be better than this.

When Doug looked out the clock tower window, he could see Grandpa standing down below, looking up, very quietly.

When Grandpa saw Doug looking down, he nodded at him and gave him the merest wave with the stub of his cigar.

Finally the last twilight was gone and full darkness descended and the janitor came in. There was lubricant to be put on the big cog and wheels of the clock. The boys watched with a mixture of fascination and fear. Here was their nemesis, which they thought they'd
defeated, being brought back to life. And, they'd helped. In the weak light from a naked ceiling bulb they watched as the janitor wound up the great spring and stood back. There was a rasping shudder from deep within the great clock's innards, and as if afflicted, the boys moved away, shivering.

The big clock began to tick and the boys knew it wouldn't be long till the hour would strike, so they backed off and fled out the door, down the stairs, with Doug following and Tom leading the way.

The mob met Grandpa in the middle of the courthouse lawn and he gave each of them a pat on the head or the shoulder. Then the other boys ran to their homes, leaving Tom and Doug and Grandpa to walk a block to the corner where the United Cigar Store still stood open because it was Saturday night.

The last of the Saturday night strollers were starting to drift home and Grandpa picked out the finest cigar he could find, cut it, and lit it from the eternal flame that stood on the cigar store counter. He puffed contentedly and looked with quiet satisfaction upon his two grandsons.

‘Well done, boys,' he said. ‘Well done.'

Then the sound that they didn't want to hear came.

The great clock was clearing its throat in the tower and struck its first note.

Bong!

One by one the town lights began to go out.

Bong!

Grandpa turned and nodded, and gestured with his cigar for the boys to follow him home.

They crossed the street and walked up the block as the great clock struck another note, and another, which shivered the air and trembled their blood.

The boys grew pale.

Grandpa looked down and pretended not to notice.

All the town's lights were now out and they had to find their way in the dark, with only the merest sliver of moon in the sky to lead the way.

They walked away from the clock and its terrible sound, which echoed in their blood and compelled all the people in the town toward their destinies.

They went down past the ravine where, maybe, a new Lonely One was hiding and might come up at any moment and grab hold.

Doug looked out and saw the black silhouette of the haunted house, perched on the edge of the ravine, and wondered.

Then, at last, in the total dark, as the last peal of the great clock faded away, they ambled up the sidewalk and Grandpa said, ‘Sleep well, boys. God bless.'

The boys ran home to their beds. They could feel, though they did not hear, the great clock ticking and the future rushing upon them in the black night.

In the dark Doug heard Tom say from his room across the hall, ‘Doug?'

‘What?'

‘That wasn't so hard after all.'

‘No,' said Doug. ‘Not so hard.'

‘We did it. At least we put things back the way they should be.'

‘I don't know about that,' said Doug.

‘But I know,' said Tom, ‘because that darned clock is going to make the sun rise. I can hardly wait.'

Then Tom was asleep and Doug soon followed.

Bong!

Calvin C. Quartermain stirred in his sleep and slowly rose to an upright position.

Bong!

The great clock, striking midnight.

He felt himself, half–crippled, making it to the window and opening it wide to the sound of the great clock.

Bong!

‘It can't be,' he murmured to himself. ‘Not dead.
Not
dead. They fixed the damned thing. Call the others first thing in the morning. Maybe it's over. Maybe it's done. Anyway, the town's running again the way it's supposed to, and tomorrow I have to figure out what to do next.'

He reached up and found an odd thing on his mouth. A smile. He put his hand up to catch it, and, if possible, examine it.

Could be the weather
, he thought.
Could be the wind, it's just right. Or maybe I had some sort of twisted dream – what was I dreaming? – and now that the clock is alive again   … I've
got to figure it out. The war is almost over. But how do I finish it? And how do I win?

Quartermain leaned out the window and gazed at the moon, a silver sliver in the midnight sky. The moon, the clock, his creaking bones. Quartermain recalled numberless nights spent looking out the window at the sleeping town, although in years past his back was not stooped, his joints not stiff; in years past, looking out this very window, he was young, fit as a fiddle, full of piss and vinegar, just like those boys …

Wait a minute! Whose birthday's next? he wondered, trying to call up school record sheets in his mind. One of the monsters? What a chance that would be. I'll kill them with kindness, change my spots, dress in a dog suit, hide the mean cat inside!

They won't know what hit them.