A Salem Awakening

Chapter 18

It was almost one o'clock. Will was an hour late. Abi didn't know if she should be worried or angry, and, she admitted to herself, she felt both. She stood and started for his house to confront him. "Maybe he just lost track of time," she thought, trying to find some logical reason to forgive him. His house was a ten-minute walk from the village center. She left her blanket and food under the tree and headed off, assuming she would return with Will shortly for their belated lunch.

As she walked, she wondered whether she might run into him, scamping down the trail to meet her, hopping as he was putting his boots on along the way. Or maybe she would find him laying down on the ground. Perhaps he fell and hurt his ankle and could not get to her. Now she felt bad for being angry with him.

By the time she got to his house, she realized none of that would happen. She knocked at the door. There was no response. She knocked again. "Mr. Putnam, are you home? Will? Are you there?" Still no response. She wasn't sure what to do, and many thoughts flooded into her head. "Maybe he thought we were meeting at one o'clock and he's there now, wondering where I am. Or maybe he ran into a friend and didn't realize how late he was." In either case, she needed to get back to the sycamore tree as quickly as possible to meet him. She turned and ran as fast as she could.

She arrived back at the tree a few minutes later. The blanket and food were unmoved from when she left. He was not there and appeared never to have been there. Now she became worried.

She walked back to his house, this time taking a more circuitous route in case he traveled a different way. But when she arrived back at his door, there was still no sign of him. She knocked three times, paused, and then pounded her fist as hard as she could another three times, albeit at a slower tempo. "Will! Are you there?" She was now feeling a blend of anger, frustration, worry, and anguish. Even though it went against her better judgement, she entered his house to see if she could find any clues to his whereabouts.

She opened the door slowly and peered inside with the least amount of intrusion as possible. She was nervous someone might see her and wonder why a student was entering her teacher's home. But she was worried more about him than she was about being caught.

His house was a complete mess. It wasn't dirty, there were no clothes strewn out on the floor, but it was a mess, nevertheless. There were gizmos and gadgets and partially built contraptions all around. Nothing seemed complete – as if he had many ideas for starting things, but no plan to finish any of them.

"Will?" she begged. There was no response. She slowly and cautiously stepped into his house and tiptoed around, trying not to disturb any of the mess.

Around the corner of what seemed like a junk pile with school papers balancing on top, she saw the foot of his bed. She crept closer, uncertain what she was looking for. Then she saw him. He was sleeping? She was just pounding on the door. "How could he be asleep after the noise I made?" she wondered. "Will!" she vocally prodded. "Get up – you were supposed to meet me an hour and a half ago! Will!" She walked over to him and pulled the blanket down to his feet, hoping the sudden change in temperature would wake him. "He's still in his clothes from yesterday? What did he do last night?" Her anger was back, beating down the worry which was winning only a few moments earlier. "Will!" she demanded again while shaking him violently enough to jolt him from his sleep. But instead of waking, his arm fell limp to the floor. He was completely motionless. It was as if he were....

"Oh my God! Will! No!" She shook him hard now, still trying to wake him but also trying to verify if he was really dead. His body was completely limp – there was no response. "NO!" she screamed louder and with more emotion than she ever emitted before. She ran back to the front door and yelled as loud as she could. She could barely hold herself up between the door and its frame. "Help! Help me. He's dead!" She was hoping someone would hear her – anyone. She ran back to the village center as fast as she could. When she arrived, she was out of breath, but she frantically yelled again, "I need help! Mr. Putnam, he's dead! Please, help me!"

People looked out from the shops. Others who were walking through town stopped in their tracks and looked back at Abigail. Everyone ran to her aid immediately, asking what was happening, trying their best to help with what was quickly escalating into a major fracas. Tears were streaming down her face now that others were involved. Her emotion put itself on hold until she could find help, and now that she did, it was free to be released.

"It's Mr. Putnam," she relayed through loud sobbing. "We were going to review papers. He never came. I looked for him. He's dead in his house." She was virtually unintelligible and unconsolable. Once everyone comprehended what she was saying, the crowd, which was growing larger by the second, started off in a mad rush toward Mr. Putnam's house. Tobias heard the commotion and joined near the back of the group. He scurried behind them as they made their way down the path to Mr. Putnam's abode. When they arrived, Tobias was out of breath, but he forced himself to refrain from heavy breathing so he could hear every word, every sound, that was about to be made. He didn't want to miss any detail, no matter how small.

The crowd collectively gasped when they entered Will's house and saw his limp body, fully clothed, almost dangling off the bed because Abi unknowingly shook him so hard. Everyone gathered around him. The doctor arrived after being informed of the situation by others who first heard Abigail's pleas for help. He hurried to the bedside, the gathered crowd respectfully making way for him. He knelt down next to the bed and put his fingers on Will's neck, searching for any signs of life. The doctor sighed deeply, stood and, while still looking down, shook his head slowly back and forth. "He's gone. May God have mercy on his soul." Everyone removed their hats to show their respect. Many gasped, and some started crying.

Abigail backed herself into a corner and fell to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. It seemed as if her life ended. A deep void of nothingness overtook her. She always prided herself on her ability to control her emotions, becoming neither overly happy nor overly sad over any situation. But this was different. Her emotions were like a sudden severe flash flood overtaking its dam. There was nothing to prevent the rushing waters from overflowing and she could only hope the dam would hold and eventually contain the waters until the flood subsided.

Tobias, who was adept at pretending to be something he was not, portrayed himself to be distraught. But inside, he was relishing his good luck. "How unfortunate for him," he mused, "but how fortuitous for me." With a deeply somber, albeit insincere, tone, Tobias offered, "I'll inform the Minister and Albert Cooper we'll need to put together a funeral today."

As he left William's house, Tobias sensed something unusual. It wasn't a person or a thing. Rather, it was a feeling he hadn't felt for a long time. It was something from his family's past, a feeling he recalled from his childhood. He remembered the stories and the feelings. His grandmother spoke of it often. But this feeling now – even though it was but a distant memory to him, he knew what it was. "How could it be?" Nobody outside of Tobias' bloodline was even capable. Nobody except one person. "Rennik," he thought. "For him to do this, he must be desperate."