The Secrets of Ordinary Farm

Chapter 26

In the evenings after dinner Lucinda liked to lie on her air mattress in Carmen’s room and listen to the warblers and bluebirds flitting through the trees that shaded the Carrillos’ back yard. Their chiming songs soothed her and reminded her that although she might not be where she wanted to be, on Ordinary Farm, she was still in a very nice place, surrounded by friends like Carmen and Alma and the rest of their family. But today the birds were silent, as if the distant thunder that had begun half an hour or so ago had frightened them away.

“What, another storm?” Carmen looked up from the laptop she had to share with her brother and sister, the subject of much power-struggling among three Carrillo kids. “This has been the wettest summer in, like, forever.”

“It never rains very hard,” said Alma. Carmen’s little sister was stretched on the floor, drawing with pastels. “And it smells so good afterward. Like growing.”

“As long as I don’t have to go out in it.” Carmen frowned. “Speaking of annoying things, where did Steve and your brother go, Lucinda? They ran off after dinner while they were still chewing.”

Lucinda made a face. “I think they’re doing something in the garage. Last time I went past I heard a lot of banging and clattering.”

“Building a spaceship out of old soft drink cans, probably,” Carmen said.

“No,” Alma corrected her, “I think Steve said they were getting stuff together to… ” She paused and looked up as the door of her room opened.

Silvia Carrillo leaned in.

“Carmen, m’hija, your father and I promised we’d go have some dessert with the Sotos. We’ll be back about nine-thirty, but if we’re not I want you getting ready for bed then and you can read ‘til we get here, okay? Grandma Paz is in her room watching television if you need her.” She shut the door and a moment later they heard her go out the front door.

Lucinda had been trying to read but she was feeling distracted. Maybe it was the smell and feel of the coming storm, but she hadn’t been having much luck with “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” anyway. Those kids were in a magical place, too, but everything seemed to come pretty easy to them, and when things got bad the wonderful “Jesus lion” (as Carmen called him) always showed up and fixed things.

I wish we had a magic Jesus lion, she thought. I’m tired of trying to figure out all the answers by ourselves.

Mr. Walkwell wasn’t Aslan, of course, but he was the closest thing they were going to get-after all, he was practically a Greek god! Lucinda thought that was true, anyway. From what she’d learned on the internet and in books he seemed to be a faun, a kind of Greek forest spirit, but every time she had worked up the courage to ask him more about his background, one look at his weathered face and his dark, watchful eyes made the words clog in her throat like lumpy oatmeal. There was so much she would have liked to ask him-were the gods real? Had there really been a Hercules? And a Jason and the Argonauts, like that funny old movie Tyler loved so much? But this afternoon, as she had stood with Ragnar at the fence between Cresta Sol and Ordinary Farm, she didn’t even consider asking him. There were far too many other things to think about-serious things. Life and death things.

“You should not risk coming back, Ragnar,” Mr. Walkwell said. Here at the edge of the property and in broad daylight, he was wearing boots to hide his hoofed feet, and it was plainly uncomfortable: he shifted from one leg to the other as they spoke, the stuffing that made the shoes fit crinkling and crackling. “At the moment things are no worse with either Gideon or the witch. We should try to keep them that way… ”

Ragnar shook his head. “No, Simos. Look at you-you are exhausted. You did the work of ten men even when I was there…!”

Mr. Walkwell snorted. “So now I do the work of ten and a half. I will manage.”

Ragnar smiled at the joke, but Lucinda knew he didn’t approve of Mr. Walkwell taking on so much. “I have never seen him this way,” the Norseman had told her that morning. “He almost seems old.” Which was a strange thing to say, considering Mr. Walkwell must have been around for at least a couple of thousand years, but now looking at the old Greek’s bony face and dark-ringed eyes she understood Ragnar’s concern.

“It is not me who needs your pity,” Mr. Walkwell told them. “Every time the witch brings out Gideon to have him give orders he seems slower, weaker, and more stupid, like a tree that does not get enough water. I fear for him.”

The idea of her great-uncle growing sicker and sicker at Mrs. Needle’s hands made Lucinda’s heart race with fear. “It’s the greenhouse! I know there’s something in there! I can give you the letter I found if you want to see it-there’s something really bad in there and I’m sure it’s what Mrs. Needle is using to control Uncle Gideon!”

Mr. Walkwell only looked at her, not as though he didn’t believe her, but as if it didn’t matter. Ragnar shook his head sadly.

“If I could simply break the witch’s neck, I would,” the Norseman said. “But the gods only know whether we would ever get Gideon back afterward. The same if we simply took him away from her. As long as he is in her power she knows we dare not do anything.”

“Ragnar speaks the truth, child,” Mr. Walkwell told her.

“But what about the thing that got Gideon-and me?”

“I will not let anyone go near the greenhouse, that you need not fear.” Mr. Walkwell turned to look over his shoulder, back toward Ordinary Farm. The wind was changing-even Lucinda could feel that. “Another storm coming,” he sighed. “By Olympus, what next?”

“That settles it,” Ragnar said. “I am coming with you. The sick animals will have to be penned. You cannot get it done in time on your own.” The big man vaulted the fence with the ease of someone a quarter his age. “I know it is hard for you to wait, Lucinda, but I will come back this evening and tell you everything I have seen. Go back to the house, now. This storm may bring lightning.”

“ Will bring lightning,” said Mr. Walkwell darkly. “And only the Moirae -only the Fates themselves-can say what else will come with it.”

Carrot Girl!

She could hear it as clearly as if someone spoke it into her ear-the name (or more precisely the idea) that the young dragon Desta used as Lucinda’s name. The sound that was not a sound came again: Carrot Girl-help!

Lucinda had fallen asleep on the air mattress in Carmen’s room-in fact, she realized, she was still at least half-asleep, but she didn’t dare open her eyes for fear of losing touch with the frightened dragon. She had never dreamed the creature’s thoughts could reach her this far from the farm. I’m here, Desta. What’s wrong?

Too much wrong! All wrong! Frightened!

And it wasn’t just herself the young dragon was worried about. Meseret -Lucinda felt it as an image, not a name, the huge, warm shadow-thought that represented Desta’s mother- she hungry too! Other animals-escape! Growling! Scaring Desta! Others running and shouting!

And even as these ideas fluttered and whirled through her mind like panicky bats Lucinda could feel something else as well-Desta was trying to fly. Lucinda could sense the young dragon straining at her harness, struggling to let her wings pull her up into the air.

She’s ready! Even in the midst of so much confusion and fright, Lucinda felt a swelling of excitement. She’s ready to fly!

Tell me what’s going on, Desta. What’s happening?

Everything bad. Bad-smell animals out hunting. For a moment Lucinda could almost see what Desta saw-a slouching four-legged shadow, a pale, orange-eyed face peering into the Reptile Barn-and a cold shiver ran down Lucinda’s spine, even miles away.

One of the manticores was out.

Lucinda sat up. Carmen’s room was empty and dim, the light of the dying evening turning the long window into a glowing violet rectangle. She could dimly hear the television in Grandma Paz’s room down the hall. Outside the trees thrashed in a strong wind and a few raindrops were already splattering against the window.

The dragon’s thoughts suddenly vanished from her head.

Concentrate, Lucinda told herself. Desta? Desta, can you still hear me? The moment of contact now felt slippery as a piece of soap at the bottom of a bath or a watermelon seed squirting across a plate each time she tried to close her fingers on it. Concentrate. And there it was, but only for a moment, the last, dwindling perceptions that came from the terrified dragon…

Running things. The ideas flitted across Lucinda’s mind like shadows on a window shade. Wind and growing darkness. Warm rain making all the smells strange. And the hunting things still lurking outside the reptile barn but working up their courage to come in-there was more than one of them now, and they were barking to each other, excited chuffing noises like an ax biting into wood…

Lucinda’s skin went cold. Was all that really happening? Could it possibly be just some kind of dragon-nightmare? But in her heart she knew it was all too real. Since the first moment she had seen Gideon’s new watchdogs, the manticores had terrified her. But how had they gotten out? And more importantly, if it had taken Alamu to kill just one of them, how on earth would anybody at the farm be able to get all the rest back into their cage…?

Tears of worry running down both her cheeks, Lucinda leaped up and sprinted down the hallway.

“Tyler!” she shouted as she burst out the back door and headed for the garage. She saw that the boys had set their tent up inside it-the canvas was lit from within but she couldn’t hear them. “Tyler, it’s the farm! Something’s really wrong on the farm!”

No reply. No movement.

“Tyler, don’t play games!” She yanked back the flap and leaned in. “I just… Desta just… ” She stopped when she realized it was pointless. The tent was empty but for a clutter of comic books and video game magazines. Tyler and Steve weren’t there.

With Carmen and Alma-and, when she finally understood what had happened, with Grandma Paz as well-Lucinda turned the Carrillos’ house upside down but found no sign of the boys anywhere.

“Where could they be?” cried Paz. “Are they playing a trick with us?”

Carmen came out of the kitchen. “No, they’re really gone. They took food with them. Baloney sandwiches. And of course they didn’t put anything away-not even the mayonnaise!”

“At eight o’clock at night?” Grandma Paz was irritated at the mere thought. “What for? They both ate like pigs at dinner… ”

“Because they’re not coming back right away,” Lucinda said, suddenly feeling queasy. “They’re… ”

Alma back into the house, hair dripping, carrying a piece of paper in her hand. “I found a note in the tent.”

Paz grabbed it from her. Lucinda and the girls leaned over her shoulder to read.

Were out doing important things and well be back soon. Don’t worry about us were fine.

“My brother is allergic to apostrophes,” Alma said, but she looked really frightened. “Where do you think they went?”

“Why would they go out somewhere?” demanded Grandma Paz. “Those pinches! And in a storm!”

“Oh. Oh, no.” Lucinda suddenly remembered Tyler’s excitement over what Paz had told him. “It’s Tyler. I bet he and Steve are going to try to get back into Ordinary Farm.”

Carmen looked shocked. “How can they do that? There’s an electrical fence! Even my brother isn’t that stupid.”

Lucinda slumped down onto the living room couch. “I don’t think that’s the way they’re going.” She turned to Grandma Paz. “Tyler said you told him there was a tunnel or something that might connect this property to Gideon’s… some underground way.”

The old woman’s eyes opened very wide. “Oh, goodness, they wouldn’t go there, would they? To the old mine? That’s a terrible place!”

“Which is exactly the kind of place my brother would go.” Lucinda wanted to be angry at him but she was terrified. What would she tell Mom? “He loves stuff like that… Oh, Tyler, you idiot! All because he’s so worked up about Colin Needle and the Contin… ” She suddenly realized Paz was still standing there. “Never mind. What do we do? Where is it? How do we get them before they get themselves killed?”

“I’ll get my car,” said Paz. “I know where they’re going and if they haven’t been gone too long we can beat them there. You girls get your jackets and get shoes on and get in the car. Dios mio, those two! I am going to tan their little backsides…!”

As Carmen and Alma ran off, Lucinda told Paz, “I’m not going. Someone has to stay here to tell Ragnar what’s happening-he’s coming back soon. If they beat you to that mine or whatever it is, then Ragnar will have to be the one to go and get them.” And if he doesn’t already know about the manticores being out, she thought, well, that’s something else that has to be dealt with. She wanted to cry but couldn’t afford to waste any more strength on tears. This was shaping up to be a horrible, horrible night.

Grandma Paz threw her hands up in surrender. “What am I thinking? I have to call Sylvia and Hector, too, tell them what those little idiotas have done. They’ll come right back when they hear, so you won’t be on your own long.”

A scant three minutes later Lucinda stood in the driveway watching Grandma Paz’s big old car bump down the gravel driveway on its painfully slow way toward the Cresta Sol front gate. The drizzle had stopped but the sky was cloudy and the moist, warm breeze tugged at her hair.

“Hurry up!” Lucinda called to them, but all that came back to her was the sound of the rising wind.