A Boy Named Alice

Chapter Nine

I woke to more drizzling rain.

Toady was leaned forward, knees under his chin, hands clasp before his legs, his tattered clothing soaking up mud. Twigs and torn leave stuck to the frayed edges.

"Hey," I said, sitting up and stretching.

"Hello, Little Friend. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, thanks." I shrugged the backpack on, settling it in place. "Which way to the Archive?"

"Live Ones always in such a hurry." He reached into his pocket and held out a bag.

"I thought the point was to get out of the woods."

"It is." He shook it gently. "But AJ needs to eat so ya' can keep your energy up."

"Fine." My stomach growled as I took the bag. Embarrassment heated my cheeks and I opened it. More vegetables filled the bottom.

"AJ can eat while we walk." Toady smiled and stood straightened his clothes, and shaking loose bits of mud and leaves. He slung a bag over his thin, bony shoulders and looked around.

"The Archive is this way," he said pointing. "Toady's house is that way."

"Okay," I said, eating a piece of broccoli as I walked. The food brushed off the last bit of sleep, and my thoughts cleared.

Trees blurred together forming a uniform lump of tangled branches and decayed moss. My eyes watered, and feet hurt. Toady kept pace, hand still loosely resting on my shoulder. A yawn tumbled out as a root tugged my foot. Toady's grip kept me standing, and I leaned against his side.

"How about we let AJ take a break?" Toady patted my shoulder. "It's a long walk even when you know the Dead Woods' secrets."

I found a spot to sit and rest, leaning my back against the trunk of a gnarled old tree. The fabric of my jacket snagged against the rough bumps and canals, and bits of bark flaked off, fluttering to the muddy ground.

I settled my backpack in my lap. Damp coarse canvas smeared caked on mud across my jeans. Moss and ripped leaves clung to the fabric, obscuring my name. Mom had scrawled it across the back after I'd lost the first one.

I picked off bits of moss, the gray strands breaking into smaller pieces and leaving a broken trail of mossy victims behind. It stuck to my fingers, and I wiped it on my jeans.

Thirsty, I tugged on the zipper. It caught, stuck on the dirt snagged between the zipper's teeth. Using my pocketknife, I dug the worst out, and the zipper stuttered open.

An old canteen, outer fabric brittle and frayed, lay atop several small burlap bags.

"What are these?" I asked, giving one bag a soft shake.

"Open them and see."

I upended it, and a fist size beet tumbled into my hand.

"Thanks." It tasted like dirt.

Toady nodded. "AJ needed more food and Ol'Toady could provide that."

"What's the Archive like?" I asked between bites.

Toady shrugged and trailed his fingers over the leaves. A small mound gathered in his wake, a leafy dam holding back mud.

"It was a place of great knowledge," he said. "Those who gathered there collected information and artifacts."

"Why?" I finished off the last of the beet, purple juice staining my fingers.

"Because they could, I guess," he said. "They never told us residences anything, and Ol' Toady wasn't allowed in the main buildings, just the courtyards."