Chapter 8: Swirling Clouds
Anthony stood at the wheel of a small ship. The boat rose high and smacked down to the water as the waves got bigger and bigger. Lightning ripped across the sky and Anthony's blonde hair whipped across his face. The veins on his hands stood out as he gripped the wheel tightly. Sheets of rain draped over the ship as Anthony fought the wind. The boat sped over the choppy ocean on its way to London one last time.
Tobias closed the shop early. He trudged down the rickety wooden steps of the cellar to work on the bodies. Once down the steps, he stopped. The door at the top blew shut in the wind and darkness enveloped him. He was falling, crying, screaming, running away…
Suddenly he was on the floor. He was breathing hard. What just happened? He sat up, feeling worn out but otherwise normal. For a second, he just felt out of control. Like a million things were happening at once.
"Where are you hiding?"
Tobias's heart raced and his emotions whirled out of control once more. "Mrs. Lovett!" he cried wildly as he raced up the old stairs. "I'm here I'm here, I'm coming Mrs. Lovett!" He shot out of the door and raced across the yard. He tripped and fell, he couldn't run very well. He laid there, face streaked with tears. "Don't leave me here!"
"Toby!"
Her voice echoed from all directions.
"Toby!"
Toby screamed, desperation choking his voice. "I'm here! Come to me mum, I don't know where you are!"
"Toby!"
Toby passed out in the grass of the bake house as thunder rumbled overhead and rain began to fall.
That morning rain continued to pour over Fleet Street. Few customers would brave the weather today anyway, so Tobias never opened up shop. He sat alone in the dark, watching the rectangle of light from the window as it streamed tears and lightning flared in it's melting plane of grey on a black floor. He looked at the razor lying on the harpsichord. The thought of death fascinated him. Suicide. The razor was the way Mr. Todd had intended to kill Toby.
The thought of Mr. Todd engulfed Toby with rage. No, he refused to die that way.
How had Mrs. Lovett died?
He looked up at the window and at the bake house. The bake oven stood, waterfalls of rain washing over it.
Fire.
Lightning flashed and Johanna's eyes shot open. She was breathing hard and shaking. She rubbed her eyes. "Oh Anthony, I had the most terrible dream --" she rolled over. "Anthony?"
Lightning flashed again, the window making criss-crossed patterns on the white sheets where Anthony should have been laying.
She got out of bed, pulling on a white lacy robe. He was probably in the kitchen making breakfast, or out on the balcony again. She went from room to room, speeding up with each empty room she found. She threw open the balcony doors.
"He's gone!" She cried, a sob beginning in her voice.
"Mommy?"
Johanna turned, tears sparkling in her pale blue eyes. Annalise stood there in a lacy pink night gown that was a bit too long for her, so it dragged along behind her. "I think I know where Daddy is."
"Where?" asked Johanna, running to her little daughter. Her eyes widened with fear of the answer, fear that she already knew where it was Anthony went.
Down on the Paris docks, a woman arrived with her daughter, both dressed in warm coats. The woman held the girl's hand tight as they stumbled through the rain. She called over the storm to a man leaning against a big crate. "I need a boat to London," she pulled out a handful of cash. "As soon as possible!"