Only after he left the city did Chris learn that a road would not always go as he had imagined. There were many shallow wheel tracks across the waste ground. Some led east, others west. He took out the parchment to read it, then looked up for the little light. The mist had thinned, but the light was harder to make out.
Shouts came from behind him. Two neighbors had followed him beyond the city gate. One was called Obstinate, the other Pliable. Obstinate hardly even turned his neck when he walked. Pliable kept looking at flowers beside the road and birds in the distance. They had come to persuade Chris to go home.
“You’re only eleven,” Obstinate said. “What makes you think you understand more than all the grown-ups in the city?”
Chris’s face grew hot. He did not think he understood very much. Quite the opposite: there was so much he did not know. “I saw the cracks,” he said. “I want to find someone who can help.”
“Then patch the cracks. Isn’t that what your father already told you?”
But Pliable asked about the distant city. Chris read him the words in the old book. He told him that gold coins did not decide who could enter, and that nobody was turned away for wearing torn clothes. “I’ll come too,” Pliable said. “Perhaps I can bring something nice home.” Obstinate shook his head and turned back toward the city.
Having a companion made Chris feel a little lighter. Pliable walked quickly, asking how large the Celestial City was, whether its flowers always bloomed, and urging him to read more. Chris looked down to find the right page. Neither of them noticed that the grass underfoot had become wet and soft.
Pliable slipped first. Chris reached out to help him, and both of them fell into the mud. This place was called the Slough of Despond. Muddy water reached their knees, and deeper ground lay ahead. The bundle on Chris’s back soaked up water and weighed him down until he could hardly stand.
“You said it was a good road!” Pliable cried.
“We haven’t got there yet. I didn’t know there was mud here—”
“You don’t know anything!” Pliable shook off his hand and crawled toward the bank nearest the City of Destruction. He caught hold of the grass roots and finally scrambled out, leaving even his lost shoe in the mud. “I’m going home. Go on by yourself!”
Chris tried to follow, but the bundle dragged him the other way. He struggled to pull his feet free, leaving one shoe behind in the mud. The more he panicked, the deeper he sank. Perhaps Obstinate was right. Perhaps Dad was right. If he could not even cross a patch of grass, how could he save his family?
The muddy water reached his chin. He tried hard to lift his head and shouted, “Help me!”
Someone stopped on the bank. “My name is Help. Reach out to me.” The man crouched down and held out a sturdy branch. Chris caught it. The man slowly pulled him toward the shallows, then took his hand and helped him onto the bank.
Chris sat on the grass, breathing hard for a long time. Ashamed and miserable, he could not look the man in the face. But Help first emptied the mud out of his shoe, then found a cloth for him to wipe his eyes.
“There are stepping stones here.” Help pointed at the water. “But when people panic, they can’t see them. Catch your breath first, then look ahead again.”
Chris looked where he was pointing. Sure enough, several stones rose above the water. They led all the way to the bank farther from the City of Destruction. He thanked Help and stood up, holding the branch. His shoes were still wet and squelched with every step, but at last he had somewhere firm to put his feet.