The Weightys’ home on Apathy Road was a Rescuer Outpost. It was a centre of safety and calm in the midst of the Snares and other creatures and pitfalls of Err. The house was like the Weightys themselves: big and solid and sturdy and inviting. It was colourful too. Even as the evening darkness closed in and the mist once more descended the windows shone with a bright, welcoming light and the coloured fairy lights around the edges of the big house made it look a bit like Christmas. There were even twinkling lights around the tall turret at the very top of the house.
“That’s our prayer tower,” explained Mr Weighty. “It has a great view of the cross!”
Mr Weighty parked the Rescue Craft in his shed and ushered them all towards his home.
“I think I’ll fit a lock on my shed,” he said mischievously, “it might save others from the temptation of taking my Rescue Craft!”
Hugo and Henrietta looked ashamed all over again.
“Never mind,” said Mr Weighty. “I’m only pulling your leg!”
Mrs Weighty met them all at the door, and if they had thought that she might receive them as naughty children and not as treasured guests they were happily mistaken. She said nothing about Hugo and Henrietta raiding her kitchen for food for their trip. She didn’t mention them taking the Rescue Craft away so that Mr Weighty was even without his own transport for his mission to rescue Timmy. She didn’t even comment on the dishevelled state of their clothes. She gave them all a welcoming hug and took them into the lovely cosy dining room where a big fire was crackling cheerfully in the fireplace. A large table laden with food stood before the fire, and standing by the fire there was also a young man who looked pretty stern. It was Harold Wallop.
Henrietta and Hugo hung back, looking at each other and at their grim faced eldest sibling. Harold greeted the others warmly, and then he turned to the twins.
“I suppose you two realise the trouble you’ve caused,” he said.
“Yes,” said Henrietta. “I promise we do. So there’s probably no need to say lots about it.”
“I think that’s wishful thinking, Henry,” said Hugo.
“You could say that,” said Harold.
Mrs Weighty came to the rescue. “Tea’s ready!” she said.
It was a wonderful meal. There was cheese on toast and pizza and scrambled eggs and hot sausages and stacks of bread and butter and half a dozen types of jam and the most enormous sponge cake and cream.
“Wow!” said Hugo, cheering up despite Harold’s worrying expression. “And there are more of those chocolate muffins too, Henry!”
“Oh,” said Mrs Weighty with a twinkle in her eyes, “you liked those muffins, did you?”
Hugo immediately looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry we took them,” he said.
“That’s water under the bridge,” said Mrs Weighty. “I was only teasing.”
“You took food from Mrs Weighty too?” asked Harold incredulously.
“Bad timing, Hugo,” said Henrietta. “We could have talked about all that after tea.” She feared that she might lose out on the wonderful feast all ready to be consumed.
Harold looked like he might choke on his pizza. “You really are the limit!” he began.
“We do know that,” said Henrietta, “honestly we do…”
“I took food from the Wallops’ house too,” said Timmy, looking at Hezekiah.
Henrietta stared at Timmy. “I was going to punch you for that,” she said, “but I guess what we’ve done is even worse!”
“I’m glad you think so,” said Harold drily.
“We do,” said Henrietta earnestly.
Hugo kicked her under the table. “Don’t keep saying things,” he hissed at her.
“It was really all my fault anyway,” said Timmy. “I shouldn’t have gone away from Aletheia.”
They all looked at him. It still took some getting used to, the dramatic change in Timmy.
“It’s true,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”
“You can’t say fairer than that,” said Mr Weighty. “You’re a brave man to admit your failings and apologise, Timmy, very brave!”
“Lots of it was our fault too,” said Henrietta.
Hugo aimed another kick at her under the table but she had tucked her legs well out of the way and ignored him. Hugo sighed at his exasperating twin and applied himself to his food.
“You wouldn’t have come after me if I hadn’t run away,” said Timmy.
“That’s very good of you, Timmy,” said Harold, “but I can assure you that Hugo and Henry have their own way of landing in trouble without your encouragement!”
“But we know some things about rescuing people that we didn’t know before,” said Henrietta.
Hugo aimed yet another kick and managed to reach her. She glared at him.
“Mr Weighty explained some things to us,” said Hezekiah, sticking up for his sister.
“Not enough, however,” said Mr Weighty, “to launch another rescue mission of your own!”
“Oh no,” said Henrietta, “of course not!”
“With the right call for help, and the right armour, and the right weapon and the right prayer support, anything is possible,” said Mr Weighty. “You need training and experience in Christian life to know how to manage these things. You’ll understand more the more you study the Bible.”
“Would Bible verses have helped us against the Snares?” asked Henrietta.
“The Word of God is always helpful,” said Mr Weighty, “but you must learn to use it right. You must learn verses from the Bible and hide them in your heart to keep yourself right14 so that you know what to say. And you shouldn’t just pick a random verse or take a verse out of its proper context and expect it to have the full impact of the living and powerful Word of God15. You must learn to use it wisely.”
Henrietta sighed. It all made so much sense when Mr Weighty explained it to them, but they had so much more to learn.
It was dark when they left the Weightys’ cosy house and set off through the chilly mist up Apathy Road to Aletheia. Harold wasn’t being cross with the twins anymore. He saw how sorry they were and knew that they were in for a hard time when they reached home and faced their parents and then their school teachers at school the next day. “You’d better get it over with,” he sympathised. “It’s never quite as bad as you think it will be.”
“It probably is,” said Henrietta sadly.
She and Hugo were resigned to their fate. And at least they had the comfort that, whatever punishments they might face, they would face them together.
Mr Weighty offered to lend them his Rescue Craft for the final part of the return journey to Aletheia but Harold thought that they would all manage the long walk back up the hill despite their weariness. Henrietta would dearly have loved to travel in the Rescue Craft but she did not dare to say so. Jack would like to have driven it once more and Hugo wanted to have another look at the Mission Detector to see if he could detect anyone praying for help. They said these things quietly to each other as they strapped on their armour. Timmy put on the pieces of the armour that Mr Weighty provided for him. At last he could see the armour of God that the others had talked about and that he had scorned; and he put on his armour as if it was the greatest honour in the world.
That weary walk through the darkness of Err was nothing like the wandering of the night before. They were not lost or full of fear or doubts: because they could always see the cross before them and besides, they had Harold as their guide. They held their Bibles in their hands for light and only occasionally commented about the fact that they were no longer travelling in Mr Weighty’s wonderful Rescue Craft.
Timmy didn’t comment at all.
He walked with his eyes fixed on the cross.
Redemption Square was deserted when at last they reached the top of the long hill of the city of Aletheia and stood near the cross. A few of the windows of the shops and houses clustered around the square twinkled with light but everyone was indoors and most people had already gone to bed. Harold led them to the cross and they climbed the steps to the top, to the very foot of the cross, and looked out over the whole land of Err.
“It’s the best view in the land,” said Harold. “Best because you can see the most, and also because you can feel the most. Here you can feel the right amount of compassion and anxiety and even righteous anger about Err, because you’re close to the cross.”
It was dark and the air was cool and clear. Millions of stars twinkled above them and the moon was high in the sky. In the South, the way they had all gone to Wishy-Washy Fair and beyond, the air was hazy and the view grew dim. They could all remember the damp, chilling mist of night and how it obscured and confused everything around. But somewhere in that mist the Weightys’ sturdy, colourful home stood ready to reach the people around them with the message of the Truth of the Bible about how people could be set free from their sin. Even now, Mr and Mrs Weighty might be in their prayer tower, looking through their big window in the direction of the cross where the children stood with Harold.
In the other direction, in the North, the stars shone brightly but in the distance cruel storm clouds gathered and blackened the night sky. The dim shape of huge mountains could be seen and around and about them there seemed to be an ominous red glow, as if there was a huge fire somewhere there. One of the mountains even looked like a volcano.
“Are there really monsters in the North?” asked Jack.
Harold looked a bit grim. “There are awful things there,” he said.
“What is there?” asked Timmy.
“Things you’ll learn about when you’re ready to,” said Harold.
“I’d like to go and rescue people from there one day,” said Hugo.
“I think I must go sometime,” said Henrietta. “I wasted that precious prayer for the people near the Mountains of Destruction, remember?”
“Then you must all remember to pray,” said Harold.
They walked the remaining short distance through the dark, narrow streets of Aletheia and to the Wallops’ apartment at last. They were footsore and weary as they entered the Foundation-of-Faith Apartment block and Harold said that they could all take the elevator to the top floor. Timmy was surprised to find that there was a lift contraption after all.
It was an old fashioned elevator with doors you pulled shut and fastened, with cushioned seats around the walls, and with a thick carpet on the floor. How it was powered wasn’t clear, but there was an indicator on the wall outside of the elevator which showed how much power it currently had and how far it could take you. ‘All the way to the top’ was the current reading on the indicator.
“That’s good,” said Hezekiah wearily. “We won’t have to climb any stairs!”
“I think I’ll fall asleep on the way to the top,” admitted Henrietta. She stepped inside the elevator and sank down on one of the cushioned seats. “Come on, Zek,” she said, and patted the seat beside her.
Hugo followed Hezekiah into the contraption and Jack looked into the curiously comfortable interior. It was difficult to see how big, or how small, the elevator was but there was still plenty of room inside.
Harold followed his brothers and sister into the elevator and looked back at the two boys. “Coming?” he asked.
Timmy went next and then Jack.
And walking through that elevator door was perhaps the strangest feeling yet of their very strange adventure.