“Bella, where’s Mikey?” Pete asks, sternly.
Bella ruffles her fringe with an exaggerated breath. “Don’t get your britches in a bunch. He’s fine. He’s right there.” She points to an overgrown field of tall grass dotted with white, yellow, and purple wild pansies.
“Can I come out now?” Mikey’s small voice says through the thicket of grass. “It’s itchy and there’s something with a long tail in here with me. I hope it isn’t a crocodile.”
I move toward the voice and brush aside the foliage. “Mikey?”
“Right here!” he says.
It takes a moment before I see his brown eyes staring at me. Mud, grass, and flowers cake his entire body. Had he not blinked, I would never have seen him.
“Mikey, what happened to you?” I ask, stifling a laugh. I help him from the dense brush and attempt to wipe dirt and blades of grass from his face, but my efforts are in vain.
“It was Bella’s idea. I couldn’t climb way up in the tree and didn’t have wings like her, so she camouflaged me. Did I fool you?” Bright white teeth grin at me, contrasting with his fragrant, earthy disguise.
“Yes, you did,” I say, chuckling. “But now you desperately could use a bath.”
Mikey scratches his head. “Aw, but I took a bath last week. Or was it two weeks ago?”
Again, the guilt of not being more diligent about his hygiene—or mine, in fact—rakes over my conscience.
“Good job looking after him, Bella,” Pete says, opening his arms. She leaps to him and wraps her tiny arms around his waist. He kisses her on the top of the head. “I knew he’d be in good hands.”
I’m surprised to see the softer side of them when they usually exude such ferocity. Their affection for each other is a bittersweet reminder of Joanna, her stubbornness, bravery, and warmth. When Pete notices me staring, he pulls away and straightens his coat, as if brushing away that single moment of vulnerability.
Mikey frowns and balls his fists. “Hey, what about me?”
Pete’s face brightens, appearing grateful to turn the attention away from his affection for Bella. “You? Well, you are the real hero. You protected her just like you said you would. I owe you my gratitude for that.” Pete gives a deep bow. “Well done, Lost Boy.”
My brother grins wide, cracking the mud packed on his chubby face into a dozen fissures.
“What happened to you guys?” I ask, plucking a white pansy from his dirty blond hair.
“Turns out stupid old Smeeth was waiting behind the corner of a house when you ran. When he saw us slip from the bushes, he chased us down. Fortunately, the fool could stand to lose some weight and apparently has a wheezing problem. You should have heard him. I wonder if he was a pug in another lifetime.”
“Very funny,” Pete says, patting Bella on the shoulder.
The screech of metal breaks the moment of calm. Pete stiffens and places a hand on Bella’s and Mikey’s backs, urging them forward. “Come on. We need to get out of the open.”
We run along remnants of track with Pete leading the way. Finally, we reach numerous boulders that block the entrance to the Underground. Pete slips his hand inside a large shrub. I can barely make out a copper switch beyond the brambles. As he flicks the lever, a rumble emanates from the pile of boulders. The stones shudder and move toward us. It is then I realize the boulders are only an illusion, camouflaging a steel door. A gap large enough for a person to step through opens.
“Everyone inside!” Pete hisses, his eyes darting behind us.
Hearing voices behind me, I turn my head. Farther up the track, there is movement in the tall brush. The warmth of panic blankets me as I push Mikey and Bella through the gap. I follow behind, taking in the large gears and chains above my head that appear to control the mechanized door. Pete follows behind, turning a rusty wheel attached to the chains along the wall. The steel door closes and Pete flips another lever. The machine clanks loudly and three sliding locks snap into place.
Inside, the air is stale and musty, humid against my skin. I can hardly see anything. The sounds of small, scampering feet surround me, but the echo within the narrow cavern makes it difficult to tell if the feet belong to one or multiple rodents.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask, turning back to Pete, unable to see him in the darkness. “You have been in here before, haven’t you?”
“Oh brother,” Bella says. I can almost hear her rolling her eyes. “Please tell me you’re not afraid of the dark.”
“No, I’m not afraid of the dark,” I say, annoyed by the insinuation.