The trees at the far edge of the clearing didn’t part—they shattered. The troll swept them aside with a renewed fury. It entered the clearing so quickly, it seemed to be flying. As it moved, it lowered its head, its jaws expanding, teeth plowing through the dirt and snow, inhaling all of it, just to get that sheep’s head. It clamped its teeth down, and in a moment there was a metallic clank that made even Apollo’s mouth clench. The troll threw its head back, bringing one hand to its mouth in shock, spitting out what it couldn’t swallow. The lid, cracked and bent, hit a tree trunk and the clang echoed.
Now the troll thrashed in the clearing. It fell into frenzy. It threw out its arms, digging its nails into tree trunks and pulling them right up out of the earth, torn roots dangling down like veins. It tossed those trees into the air, then tore up more. The troll lost itself in its ferocity, mindless, thoughtless. Apollo watched it from his perch in the tree. He couldn’t shout taunts at it, couldn’t make jokes or jabs, because he felt small and terrified. The troll created such chaos that it flung one tree right up into the air, and it tumbled right back down on its head. The beast fell on its back pinned beneath a large hickory tree. It heaved there, on its back, panting and undone. The sky had gone from black to purple. The troll kicked its legs to try and escape, but it had nearly no fight left.
“Apollo! Apollo!”
He leaped down from his hiding place. It was Emma’s voice. Quite close.
She came into the clearing through the gap in the trees the troll had caused. Her hands were in the air, waving back and forth.
“Where’s Brian?” Apollo shouted.
Emma didn’t hesitate—she clambered onto the troll’s belly. “He ate him! All this time I’ve been trying to catch up. He ate Brian.”
She stomped on its heaving gut. It opened its mouth but could only throw its head back. Was it defeated or was it gloating? The threat of sunlight lingered near the horizon.
Apollo ran to Emma. In his coat pocket was the knife he’d pulled from Jorgen’s throat. He brought it out now and plunged it into the troll’s flesh, up near the top of the belly. He sank it in until even the handle disappeared. The creature thrashed now, and the tree on its chest buckled. Apollo pulled the blade downward, splitting the creature’s skin apart.
He pulled down until his shoulders burned. He cut, and the belly opened wider before them. A dark green liquid the consistency of mud pooled out. A smell of sewer water filled their nostrils, and neither noticed or cared.
The troll’s legs kicked more frantically. The pitch of its foghorn bellow went higher, and its arms slapped at the tree trunk until the hickory went up at an angle, like a seesaw, and flipped over.
Apollo found the belly sack but didn’t dare plunge a knife inside for fear of hitting their son. He dug in with his hands, and Emma did, too. They tore at the sack, the texture of a hot water balloon.
The stomach split open, and a thinner yellowing liquid sprayed out and soaked their faces, their clothes. It meant nothing to them. They hardly noticed.
And inside they found their son, tucked into a ball and still wriggling. Swallowed whole and thus still alive. They pulled him out into the world.
Brian Kagwa, the only child ever born twice.
They fell away from the troll’s body, crawling as quickly as their weary bodies could manage. The sun rose, and daylight—true daylight—found them all. The troll trembled, and its body stiffened, and its sickly greenish color drained. It made one last sound, a whimper that almost sounded like relief, and darkened as it turned to stone. A moment later the large shape broke apart. Now it looked like a mound of boulders, nothing more. To any passerby, it would look like a small hill there in the Northern Forest.
Emma didn’t wait. She rose on her unsteady legs, cradling Brian close to her chest, and started for the woods, the path they’d taken a night ago.
Apollo lingered. He approached the stones, skirting around until he found the largest one, what had been the troll’s head. He could still make out the soft depression of those great blind eyes. He brushed each one with a finger. He leaned close to the stone and pressed his forehead to it. He felt as if he was finally burying what had been haunting him since he was a child. A funeral not for his father but his fatherlessness. Let that monster rest.
APOLLO FOUND HIS way to the path where he saw a set of footprints. Emma’s tread, but deeper than when he’d trailed her before, the extra weight of their child in her arms. He followed and found them, Emma hunched over and moving slowly. She had her coat unzipped and the boy tucked inside, his body against hers. This was the parka they’d taken from Jorgen’s house; it was so big it had plenty of room for both of them. She’d done her best to clean off his face, but his hair remained matted a muddy green. Apollo and Emma looked even worse.
Brian Kagwa, ten months old, squinted at the sky, at the canopy of bare tree limbs. He didn’t look frightened or wounded, not even shocked. Instead, it seemed as if he was thawing in the daylight. Neither Apollo nor Emma spoke to him or to each other. Brian didn’t move his head much, but his eyes scrolled left to right from one tree to the next. When a bird on a tree chirped or cawed, Brian stared at it and pursed his lips as if to answer back.
Finally they left the woods and reached the paved parts of the park. They passed the Carousel and the George Seuffert, Sr., Bandshell. Strange to see these places again. Apollo hadn’t expected he’d be back this way, he hadn’t truly believed he’d come out of this alive. Soon they reached the bathroom where he’d spent the night. The door to the ladies’ room hadn’t been fixed, only pulled shut; a few strips of emergency tape were easily pulled down.
The sinks worked, and they washed Brian’s hair out, cleaned his face. They each did a little dabbing, at least to clear out their ears and eyebrows, swish their mouths. Apollo realized the red string had come off his finger. Who could say when? Maybe when his hands were inside the troll’s belly, pulling Brian free. Maybe it lay in the center of a stone in the Northern Forest. That seemed improbable enough to be true.
“We have to get Brian to a hospital,” Apollo finally said as they left the bathroom. They still looked rough, a feral family, but at least they didn’t have bits of troll guts stuck between their teeth.
Emma didn’t answer. She hadn’t looked away from Brian yet.
“I wanted to call Kim in,” she said tentatively. “She’s still his doctor. And it’s going to be pretty remarkable if we just show up at a hospital. Kim would be discreet.”
Apollo watched her as they made a few steps but finally laughed quietly. “Well, I know she can keep a secret.”
Apollo couldn’t be aware of this yet, but Kim had never cashed that check he gave her. Instead she’d slipped it under his apartment door days ago, two words written on the face: I’M SORRY.
“Maybe someone will pick us up,” she said, gesturing ahead to Woodhaven Boulevard.