“Going on seven hours,” the old man said, then gave a blunt silencing motion. After a second, Alex heard a crack from the forest interior. A heavy foot stepping on old wood.

“How did you do?” Alex’s grandfather whispered. “Feel anything?”

“Yes. I’m sure I did. But nothing happened.” He gave a defeated shrug. “I tried. I don’t know how.”

“Stay. Try again. Keep trying. There’s still time.” The old man sounded as though he was trying to convince himself. He spoke quickly, leaping from one thought to the next. “If it’s them, if they’ve tracked us down . . . I’ll lead them away. I’ll buy as much time as I can, then circle back and come get you.”

“But—”

“Alex. Please. Keep trying. Just a few minutes more.” With that, he was gone.

Alex stared after him, then bent over the old toy and strained to find focus again, but another noise off in the trees wrenched away his concentration. A sound like a cane striking metal. A violent crash came from another direction, farther away. Alex stood, brushing dirt from his clothes. He looked at the mound on the ground.

“Sorry, Harry.”

There was nothing he could do for Harry. But he could help his grandfather. The rain came on harder. Alex put the toy away, turned his back on the grave, and started running up the hill in the direction the old man had taken.

XVII.

ESCAPE FROM WITCHES’ MOUNTAIN

Alex crept through a labyrinth of trees in the failing light. The branches above made black scratches against a deepening midnight-blue sky. It was difficult to see very far. He listened hard, but all he could hear was his own too-loud footsteps and rain on leaves.

As he came within sight of the rock face they had climbed down, his grandfather suddenly appeared, off to his left, running out from the trees. Alex started toward him, but something about the old man’s hunted look told him to take cover. He crouched among scraggy growth at the foot of a tree.

His grandfather reached the cliff, stopped, and whipped around, peering back into the shadows. Alex followed his glance. Nothing.

The white rope hung beside the old man. He dropped his bag, hooked his cane’s handle over his coat collar, and began climbing as the bushes behind him burst apart. A life-sizer came stalking from the darkness.

Alex felt himself freeze. It was like watching something walking out from his nightmares. The huge metal man closed in on his grandfather and took a savage swipe, gouging a lump from the rock face just as the old man hoisted his heels beyond its reach. The machine grabbed the rope and gave a wrenching tug. Alex’s grandfather was shaken but clung on, hauling himself up, more than halfway to the top now.

“Go on, you’re going to make it,” Alex whispered.