“You think he wants us to see him, don’t you?” Kate said, raising her spyglass again. “He really is looking this way! Just standing there not moving. And here’s something weird I didn’t notice before — his hair is wet, but his clothes are dry. What do you think he’s up to?”
Reynie thought he knew. “Does he remind you of anybody, Kate?”
“Does he remind me . . . ? Of course! I can’t believe I didn’t see it!” She rapped her forehead with her knuckles. “It’s Milligan!”
“Milligan’s here?” Sticky cried, unable to contain his excitement.
Reynie grinned. “That’s what they meant by ‘Know Thine Enemy.’ And that’s why they didn’t respond to our second message — they had to make sure we looked for him. Sticky, let’s send a message that says, ‘Enemy Known.’”
Sticky sent the message.
No sooner had he done so than the light in the woods began flashing a message with extreme rapidity: Go at once. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.
The children leaped to their feat, their hearts racing. What in the world? Had they been found out? The boys threw on their shoes, Kate retrieved her rope from the ceiling, and Constance climbed onto her back. Sticky took one last glance out the window — “It’s still flashing ‘Hurry!’” — and the children flew from the room, down the darkened corridor, and out into the night.
They had stared out their window at night enough to know where the darkest shadows lay, and it was to the darkest shadows they kept. Avoiding the plaza, where they would be terribly exposed, they bolted quick as cats along the bottom of the hill by the dormitory, dashed across a stretch of crumbling shale, then made straight for the water. With a final scramble down a rocky incline, they came to the island shore. If they kept low they would not be easily seen; the incline would shield them from view of the Institute. Keeping low, then, and stepping carefully on the rocky shore, the children made their way toward the bridge.
It had stopped raining, but the night remained cold and windy. Before the children had gone half the distance to the bridge, the wind began to carry a strong, spicy scent to their noses. The odor of a familiar cologne. They stopped and looked around, seeing nothing. Then a shadow detached itself from the rocky incline and took on the general form — if not the exact appearance — of Milligan. He certainly smelled like a Recruiter, Reynie thought, but for some reason he seemed un-Recruiter-like. He was dressed in a fine suit; he wore watches on both wrists; and his hair, though quite wet as Kate had mentioned, was perfectly combed. So what was it?
It was the smile, Reynie realized, or rather the lack of one. He’d never been near a Recruiter who wasn’t smiling, and certainly not one who looked inconsolably sad.
“I’m sorry not to have fetched you myself,” Milligan said, “but this was the safer course. A Recruiter on the shore alone may or may not draw suspicion, but a Recruiter in the student dormitory most certainly would.”
“What’s going on, Milligan?” Kate asked.
“I’m to take you away,” Milligan said.
The children were stunned.
“Away?” Reynie repeated. “You mean off the island?”
Milligan produced four black cloaks — no one saw from where — and held them out. “Put these on and draw them tight. They’ll help conceal you. If we run into trouble, stay close and don’t worry. I’ll die before I let harm come to any of you.”
“Don’t worry?” Sticky said. “Don’t worry? You’re talking about dying and we’re not to worry? What’s happening, Milligan?”
“There’s little time for explanation, Sticky. I can get you to the mainland, but we must make our way to the other side of the island, and it will be slow going.”
“But why are we going?” Kate said.
“Your mission is completed.”
Reynie felt an enormous pressure lift from his shoulders. Completed! That meant he wouldn’t be tested anymore! No more worrying about failing everyone. He could leave the island without ever facing the Whisperer again. Yes, it was time to go: Just thinking of the Whisperer filled him with longing, even made him want to stay. . . .
“Completed?” Kate said. She seemed suspicious. “Does that mean Mr. Benedict has a plan now? He thinks he can stop Mr. Curtain?”
“You mustn’t worry about that, Kate,” said Milligan. “Please put the cloak on.”
Kate tossed the cloak onto the ground. “You didn’t answer my question. Does Mr. Benedict think he can stop Mr. Curtain or not?”
Milligan frowned. “It doesn’t concern you anymore, Kate. The Improvement is much too close. Mr. Benedict wants you away from here, where you can be safe.”
“I’m not budging until I get an answer,” Kate said firmly. “Can Mr. Benedict stop the Improvement or not? Tell us the truth!”
The other children were holding the cloaks in their hands, glancing back and forth from Kate to Milligan.
Milligan looked away over the water. He seemed extremely reluctant to answer. Finally he sighed. “No, children. We have no way to stop it. You’ll have to go into hiding — we all will. We’ll need to keep moving, keep ahead of the Recruiters . . . but Mr. Benedict believes he can keep you safe, and you have my word that I’ll do all I can to protect you. Please, try not to worry. Mr. Benedict will never give up. That much I can assure you. He will work tirelessly, and perhaps in time he can find a way to counteract Mr. Curtain’s messages — to clear all of our minds.”
Kate was having none of it. “What about Constance?” she demanded. “What happens to her when Mr. Curtain boosts the power all the way? She’s already hearing voices, you know!”
Milligan looked sadly at Constance. “I don’t know, child. Nobody does. I’m so sorry — you’re in danger no matter where you go.”
At this, Constance sat down on a rock and covered her face. She seemed smaller than ever now — so small the harbor breeze might catch her up like a scrap of paper and carry her away, carry her into nowhere.
It was then Reynie knew they couldn’t leave.
He shouldn’t have needed Kate to show him, he thought. His desire to save himself had kept him from seeing it at first, but at least he saw it now. He felt it in his bones, and it felt perfectly awful, but there it was: They couldn’t leave. Not just for poor Constance’s sake, but for Mr. Bloomburg, and Milligan, and the Helpers, and all the future people Mr. Curtain intended to brainsweep, not least of whom was dear Miss Perumal herself. Mr. Benedict would never ask it of him, but he must ask it of himself.
“Milligan, please tell Mr. Benedict thank you,” Reynie said. “But I’m staying.”
Kate threw her arms around him. “Oh, I hoped you would say that, Reynie! Because I’m staying, too. We have to, don’t we?”
Sticky seemed ready to cry. “You’re staying? But . . . but . . .” He turned and gazed longingly toward the mainland. He had known they would say this. And he knew they were right.
“Sticky?” said Kate.
“I suppose we don’t have much choice,” Sticky said. “We don’t have much chance, either. But we’re the only one Mr. Benedict has got.”
Milligan tried again, and then again, but the more he pressed the children, the more determined they became. Finally he gave up. “In that case, I’m to give you a message from Mr. Benedict.”
“A message?” Constance said. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”
“Mr. Benedict had a feeling you would choose to stay. ‘That is exactly the kind of children they are,’ he said. He hoped to discourage such a decision and carry you to safety. But if you adamantly refused — and only then — I was to give you the message.”