The Museum of Extraordinary Things
Page 118

To Coralie, being alive seemed a wondrous trick of fate, or perhaps it was a true miracle at last. She felt the least she could do was act on behalf of the creatures that had depended upon her. She thanked Mr. Morris for his kindness and his care, and told him to hurry and find Maureen, then began toward the exhibition hall. Eddie followed, Mitts at his heels, as he urged Coralie to come away. But she had already begun unclasping the doors of the birdcages, letting loose hummingbirds and cockatiels, along with a stray blackbird the Professor touted as Poe’s pet raven when it was nothing more than a fledging that had fallen from its nest. When Coralie threw open the windows, smoke drifted inside, but the birds were able to make their escape. She turned then to glass containers of monarch butterflies, spotted beetles, and blue dragonflies, releasing them all in a swirl of color. At last she went to the tortoise’s pen, and sat there weeping. This being that looked so monstrous to some had been a dear friend to her, defined by its patience and silence.
Eddie came to crouch beside her, concerned. “We can’t save him.”
“I can’t leave him behind.”
Eddie realized it simply was not in her nature to abandon even the lowliest creature. He felt overtaken by his love for her. Love like this wasn’t what he’d planned or wanted or expected, surely it was indeed a trap, for even when you tried to run away, it followed you through the grass and lay down beside you, it overtook common sense and willpower. Though the fire was approaching, Eddie did as Coralie wished. He quickly struck down the low wooden wall of the flimsy pen with a few well-aimed kicks, then collected one of the velvet curtains at the doorway so they could push the tortoise onto it. He dragged the tortoise into the kitchen, with Coralie then making sure to hold the old beast steady as Eddie hauled it onto the porch, then hurriedly down the stairs. Already, the hedges were burning, the leaves turning to soot. The tortoise’s shell clattered on the wood, the thud resounding so loudly Coralie feared they might mortally damage the very creature they intended to save. There was a last loud thump and the tortoise was free. It had been a hundred years since this had been so, and the poor thing seemed stunned, pulling in its limbs and head instinctively.
By now the air was billowing with smoke. Mr. Morris had searched the avenue for Maureen and had returned, having failed to discover her. He was beside himself with worry. “She should have been here hours ago. She’s never late or thoughtless, especially when it comes to Cora.”
It was then they spied her on the roof. The vision seemed like a dream, as all the night had been. In fact, Maureen had arrived too early, for she abhorred lateness, and the Professor had discovered her in the garden before Mr. Morris’s rented carriage arrived. He’d grabbed her so that he might berate her, pulling her into the house to question her, demanding to know if she’d stolen the keys to his workshop and assisted the liveryman in his thievery. When flames broke out, he insisted she help him douse the roof with water. He did this every summer when lightning crossed the sky. Then and now his main concern was to ensure that all of his treasures would escape the fire. He was on the roof, at work with a hose that had been connected to the old well, shouting at Maureen, who’d been forced to fill buckets and pour them out inches away from the flames.
“He’s going to finish the job,” Mr. Morris said. “He’ll have her burn to death.”
Morris dashed inside, maddened, making his way upstairs so that he might gain access to the roof. He stepped out the window, as he had on the day he left his home, only on that occasion there was pouring rain and now the sky was pouring fire. Maureen went to him as soon as she saw him, forgetting that she was afraid of heights, and of fire, and of the Professor. She followed him through the window and then, at the last moment, thought to close and latch it.
In the kitchen, Maureen and Coralie embraced.
“I do not wish to leave you,” Maureen told her charge, though Mr. Morris insisted they must do so immediately. She was streaked with soot, and her clothes were drenched. She clung to Coralie before stepping away. “But what we wish we cannot always have.”
Coralie watched her dear friends go. They disappeared into the garden, then onto the avenue, where they would most likely seem like ordinary people, compared to what now roamed the streets. It was three in the morning, and there was a sudden shooting blaze above Dreamland. The tower that had burned for half an hour was now completely in flames. It crashed and hung on cables just above the animal arena. The keepers had no choice but to shoot as the animals attacked each other or leapt over the fences. In the yard Coralie and Eddie could hear screaming on the wind, and the horrible death song of Little Hip, whose keeper had returned to see his elephant burning alive. Dreamland was no longer an entertainment, and Brooklyn was no longer Kings County, but a wild country where the beasts ran down Surf Avenue.