Wood Sprites

Brian and Helen Johnson and their three young children were traveling to Monroeville. They had a nice bland name and came with three chaos generators. As Team Mischief neared the West Thirty-Fourth Street entrance, Louise could hear one of the generators screaming over the roar of the crowd.

The Johnsons were gathered beside a minivan taxi, trying to juggle three children, a car seat, and a heavily loaded luggage mule. The screamer was three-year-old Jayne on a harness and leash. He was stretched to the end of his tether and shrieking.

Helen had the leash in her right hand and was holding onto five-year-old Malcolm, who was attempting to lie down, with her left. She had the infant Alleyne in a sling on her chest.

Neither parent noticed Team Mischief staring, but Alleyne did. The baby raised her hand and waved. Louise twiddled her fingers in a covert reply. This was what the babies would be like if the twins could find some way to have them be born. Nearly hairless, toothless, and grinning happily at dangerous strangers. Louise felt guilty. They’d chosen the Johnsons because it was the second most common surname in the United States. There were two other passengers and a crewmember with the same last name. Even if someone discovered Team Mischief had traveled to Monroeville under the name, it was unlikely they would connect the four to Brian and Helen. Still, Yves and his people were ruthless and relentless.

“The meter is still running on the taxi.” Helen pointed a key fob at the car seat and it unfolded into a stroller.

“I know!” Brian snapped. “I think the doorman did something to the luggage mule when he put it in. I can’t get it to move.”

“Did you flip the thingy?” Helen mimed flipping something with one finger while still holding onto Jayne’s leash.

Brian glanced at her, eyebrow cocked. “What thingy?”

“The thingy! The thingy! Oh, Jayne, please!” This was with a slight tug on the leash of the screaming three-year-old. “The thingy that locks the wheels!”

The luggage mule whined and stepped out of the taxi hatch and lowered its wheels. Brian trotted to the front and thumbed the release pad that had been flashing red. All the doors thumped shut and the taxi rolled away.

Claiming Alleyne, Brian put the infant into the stroller. As the family hurried away, Alleyne leaned out to watch Team Mischief follow slowly.

The Johnsons weren’t frequent travelers; they needed to stop at the check-in kiosk to pick up tap cards. Afterwards they took the escalators down to the tracks where the train waited. The engines were idling with a deep, throbbing growl.

“Look! Look! It’s a train!” Brian cried for the boys’ sake.

The family ground to a halt in a spasm of train love. Team Mischief veered out of the path of people coming down the escalator, and the twins’ party killed time consulting Jillian’s tablet about things that arguably were more interesting to tweens than the big engine at the head of the line of cars.

“No, no, Malcolm, don’t put that into your mouth. It was on the ground.” Helen pinned Jayne’s leash to the ground so she could use both hands to keep the five-year-old from eating his discovery.

“Nine hours,” Brian murmured with mild reproach.

“I’m not flying to an area that has a city popping in and out of existence,” Helen sang in the manner adults used when not wanting to frighten children overhearing them. “I want to keep my feet on the ground. Besides, the boys will love the chance to ride on a real train!”

The last sentence was addressed more directly to the boys, who leapt up and down and cried, “Yay, trains!”

After a few minutes, Helen steered the boys to the steps with, “Let’s go see what’s inside the coaches!”

There was a conductor waiting with a reader. Brian fumbled through the cards, accidently feeding one through twice before getting the four tapped correctly into the reader. (The baby apparently rode for free.) They did a small circus act to get the three children and the stroller up the steps. As a closing act, the luggage mule picked up two dropped toys and then negotiated the steep stairs with surprising grace. While everyone was suitably distracted, Team Mischief slid into position. Normally the twins would use a phone app instead of tap cards, but they wanted to match themselves to the Johnsons.

The conductor noticed them standing waiting with tap cards in hand. He glanced past the children, obviously looking for accompanying adults. “Where’s your parents?”

“They just got on.” Louise pointed up the steps where the Johnson family had just vanished out of sight.

“Mom and Dad said we could do our own cards and luggage since they had the babies to take care of.” Jillian turned slightly to show that she had a full backpack as well as a large rolling carry-on. It worked as an excuse as to why “their parents” weren’t expecting “the older kids” to help juggle babies and luggage.

“We take the N train every day to school.” Louise made a show of shifting her backpack as if it was nearly too heavy for her to carry.