The Tiny Mansion

by Keir Graff

  “That’s mine!” said Lyndon excitedly. “Now I know exactly where we are.”

  “That could have been any one of us instead of a stupid stick,” I yelled. “What is wrong with you?”

  Lyndon shrugged. “This is my land, my part of the forest.”

  “Well, I hope you’re happy about all the time you wasted fighting over it,” I snarled as we started moving again, more quickly now that Lyndon had figured out where he was going.

  Depending on the terrain, we moved at a fast walk or a slow run. Everyone understood the danger, and nobody needed to be told to go faster, although Reynold and Anjali were struggling a little, and I wondered if it was because they were used to traveling by jet and private car and not by good old-fashioned foot power.

  Alpha and Beta were barking and pulling on their leashes, frenzied with excitement, but Russell was obediently sticking close to Penelope. All the animals seemed to know something was wrong. I almost wondered if they would have a better chance of surviving if we let them go—but I didn’t want to risk it. What if we turned the dogs loose and they ran right back into the flames because they wanted to go home?

  Lyndon was moving faster and faster, crashing through the brush, sometimes getting just far enough ahead that he became a blurry silhouette.

  “Slow down, Lyndon,” called Reynold, panting as he tried to keep up.

  And then, just like that, Lyndon disappeared.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The Final Traps

  Lyndon had disappeared, and Blake was standing stock-still while his barking dogs jumped and pulled on their leashes. After a few more steps, I caught up and saw what Blake was staring at.

  His uncle had fallen into a deep hole with smooth sides, one that had until a moment ago been covered by a blanket and dirt and leaves and been made to look like part of the forest floor. In other words, he’d been caught in a trap he’d made himself.

  Lyndon was sitting on the floor of the pit, his legs out in front of him, massaging his kneecap.

  “I hurt my knee,” he groaned, looking up at us.

  Soon everyone was crowded around.

  “That’s the same pit I fell into,” muttered Blake.

  “It serves you right!” cackled Reynold. “You’ve fallen prey to your own paranoid tendencies!”

  “Now isn’t the time,” murmured Anjali.

  “Even I have to admit he’s right, Lyndon,” said Penelope, shaking her head sadly and scratching Farrell’s tiny chin.

  “WILL YOU ALL STOP IT?” I yelled, exasperated. “We have to get him out NOW.”

  “Can you stand on knee?” asked Vladimir, crouching down.

  Nodding, Lyndon climbed slowly to his feet, white-faced with pain. But it was still another six feet from the top of his outstretched fingers to the top of the pit—none of us had arms long enough to reach him.

  “Actually, he’s probably safe enough down there,” said Reynold. “My bet is the fire will go right over him.”

  “You can’t know that,” said Summery, looking aghast while she clutched Carl.

  “But if we stay here, we’ll all fry with him.”

  “You know what?” said the Bertholds’ cook. “You’re a horrible person, Reynold. I quit. I’m no longer working for you, effective immediately.”

  “You can’t quit; you’re fired!”

  “I did quit, and everybody heard me. You can’t fire someone who’s already quit, you big jerk.”

  Blake stepped up to his dad and shoved him. “Dad, we can’t leave Uncle Lyndon down there. That would be like murder or something.”

  “He dug the pit, not me,” said Reynold, folding his arms.

  Penelope looked down anxiously at her brother. “Are you sure you can’t climb out?”

  Lyndon just shook his head.

  The fire was now so close it felt like we were standing in front of a thousand open pizza ovens. The air shimmered and rippled in the heat. My clothes, which had been sopping wet when we left Blake’s house, were now barely damp, and the bandana covering the lower part of my face had almost completely dried out.

  We had maybe a couple minutes before the fire swept over all of us.

  “The dog leeches,” said Vladimir, quickly unhooking Alpha and Beta’s leashes and knotting them. Together they were maybe twelve feet—long enough to reach Lyndon, but not long enough for him to wrap it around himself or for all of us to pull on.

  Then I had an idea. “Summery, if you’re carrying Carl, he doesn’t need his leash, does he?”

  “I guess not,” she said.

  I was already untying the piece of rope we’d fastened around his neck. Added to the leashes, we had just enough.

  “Tie it around yourself,” I called to Lyndon as I tossed one end down.

  He figured that out fast, looping the line around his waist and then under his thighs so it would support his weight.

  Vladimir stationed himself on the edge and set his feet, while behind him, the rest of us grabbed as much rope as we could.

  “Counting three,” said Vladimir. “One—”

  “Forget that, pull now!” I yelled, and we all heaved as hard as we could.

  Lyndon’s weight on the other end felt like a box of bricks, but when we all took a small step backward, I knew it was working. Step by step, we struggled and strained and raised him from the hole.

  I think he basically walked up the side of it while we pulled, because he came out standing up. Seeing him balanced on the edge, Reynold said, “Finally! Now let’s get moving”—and let go of the rope.

  I saw panic on Lyndon’s face as he started to fall backward. I grabbed the rope as tightly as I could, but other people, hearing Reynold, had let go, too, and my sneakers started to slide toward the edge.

  Calmly, Vladimir shot out a hand and grabbed Lyndon by the front of his checked shirt, gathered a big fistful of fabric, and pulled him to safety.

  Then the chiseled man-mountain give his boss a disgusted look. “I quit also.”

  Reynold’s self-righteous anger finally started to leave him.

  “Really?” he squeaked.

  Poor Blake looked so embarrassed I wondered if he was next. But kids can’t really quit their families. Only adults like Kristen get to do that.

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  AFTER THAT WE just ran as fast as we could, totally disorganized, with the fire behind and above and beside us—I didn’t want to think about what would happen if it closed in ahead of us. I could tell Lyndon’s knee was hurting, but he kept hobbling and didn’t complain once. We didn’t have time to untie the dogs’ leashes, so fortunately they stayed close to the pack. In fact, sometimes they were a little too close. I almost tripped over Russell more than once when he practically ran under my feet.

  Then I heard a familiar bowling-alley rumble and looked off to my left.

  “You have GOT to be kidding me,” I said, before yelling, “EVERYBODY, LOOK OUT!”

  One of us had blundered into the mother of all log traps, and now a dozen massive trunks were crashing down the hill toward us, blazing with bright orange flames.

  “Behind the biggest tree!” shouted Lyndon, which was confusing at first because there were huge trees everywhere, and some of them were on fire.

  But there was a monster trunk a short sprint ahead. Waving at everyone to follow, I made it there and flattened myself against it on the side opposite the tumbling, flaming logs.

  We huddled there as the logs crashed into it, making the tree tremble and throwing off sparks on either side. I was afraid the force would be strong enough to topple even this towering redwood, but the tree held firm. Once the immediate danger had passed, we started jogging again.

  “You know what?” said Penelope. “I quit, too. Lyndon and Reynold, you guys are going to have to work out your issues
without me. You’re both one hundred percent bananas.”

  “He’s bananas, not me,” rasped Reynold, stumbling forward.

  “Maybe a little bit bananas,” Anjali muttered.

  “You’re ALL bananas,” I said. “But can we please just escape now and settle it later?”

  “I’m not the one who digs holes and falls into them,” grumbled Reynold.

  “At least I don’t take credit for other people’s ideas,” growled Lyndon. “You got all that stuff about the interconnectedness of the natural world from me.”

  “STOP ARGUING!” yelled Santi, which surprised everyone so much it actually worked.

  We kept going. Unless we had gotten turned around in the smoke, we had to be close to the fence. But where was it?

  I heard something over the roar of the fire. It was kind of an animal sound, like whales, but not whales—after all, Penelope’s stereo had to have been incinerated by now. From the way their ears perked up, the dogs heard it, too.

  It was low and weird, almost like moaning wind. What was it?

  Then, just barely, I heard human voices, too.

  “Dagmar . . . Santi . . .”

  “Trent and Leya are calling for us!” I told Santi. “We’re almost there!”

  “MOM! DAD!” bellowed Santi, his stocky little legs suddenly moving faster than they ever had before.

  “Santi!” called Leya, followed by a string of the Spanish she only uses when she’s really happy or upset.

  “Run, Dagmar, run!” I heard Trent yell.

  The smoke cleared, and we saw them silhouetted against the fence. It felt like some weird dream as we ran the final yards, then tried and failed to hug them through the fence—basically, our hands hugged, because the rest of us wouldn’t fit through.

  Their eyes widened when they saw all the people and animals with us, so I just said, “Blake’s family. I’ll tell you the rest later.”

  “The gate’s over here!” called Blake, running to it and keying in the code.

  When it didn’t unlock, he tried again. And again.

  But the gate wouldn’t open.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The Last Roundup

  The power’s still out!” I said, once again amazed at how nothing the Bertholds owned worked without electricity. “We’ll have to go over or under.”

  Vladimir was shaking and kicking the gate, trying to break it open, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Reynold eyed the top of the fence and shook his head. “Don’t expect me to climb that thing.”

  “There’s no time to dig under it,” said Penelope in a panic. “And we can’t get the dogs over. Dogs can’t climb fences!”

  Santi was trying to crawl under it like he’d done before. But the fence was tighter here, and he couldn’t even get an arm through. On the other side, Leya started digging with her hands.

  The fire’s crackling sound made me think of a demon ripping and devouring the wood. Was this as far as we would make it? Were we doomed to get grilled against the fence?

  Trent was the only one not panicking. After all, he’d broken into hundreds of abandoned places. While we were all acting like headless chickens, he studied the gate. Then, with a quick shake of his head, he pulled his multi-tool out of the sheath on his belt, unfolded it, and calmly started snipping wires on the part of the fence next to the gate.

  When he saw what Trent was doing, Reynold started shoving his way through. Trent tried to stop him with a simple “Wait!” but when that didn’t work, Vladimir grabbed the billionaire and held him back until Trent was finished.

  “Kids first,” said Trent, peeling back a section of fence big enough for Santi to walk through upright.

  Santi went through, followed by me and then Blake.

  “Then the women, just to be polite,” said Trent, and Summery, Penelope, and Anjali doubled over and scrambled through, trying not to snag themselves on the cut ends of the fence.

  I’m pretty sure Trent would have said, And now the dogs, except Alpha, Beta, and Russell had already snaked through, leaving only Reynold, Lyndon, and Vladimir.

  When Vladimir released his hold, Reynold charged for the hole in the fence at the exact same moment as Lyndon, and they both got stuck in the opening with Vladimir behind them.

  “Ow! Ow! Ow!” yelped Reynold as the poky parts of the fence jabbed him.

  “You moron!” snarled Lyndon.

  The more they struggled, the more it hurt, and the longer Vladimir was trapped on the other side.

  Over the noise they were making, I heard it again—that weird moaning sound. It was a lot louder now.

  Looking completely exasperated, Vladimir put a big foot on Reynold’s butt and pushed hard, sending both of the men through the fence to the other side, scratched and howling.

  “YOWWWWWW!” they cried.

  Dropping to all fours, the big Exurbistanian worked his way through the gap while Trent and I pulled back on the fence to try to make more room. I think Vladimir was as big as Trent and Leya and Santi and me all put together.

  We stumbled into the pasture, feeling relieved to be out of the forest. The air was still hazy but a little bit clearer there.

  Leya hugged and kissed Santi, then hugged and kissed me, too. “I was worried to death!” she said, over and over.

  Trent ran his fingers through my hair, then frowned and pulled out a piece of smoking bark. “You gave us a real scare, but I knew you’d come through,” he said before announcing, “Introductions later. Everyone, follow me!”

  As we headed for the muddy creek, I heard the sound again. We all did. And just as I realized what it was, the herd of brown-and-white cows came mooing and lowing toward us, a lot more nervous than they’d been that morning.

  “Look out!” yelped Reynold.

  “For what?” asked Trent, looking around.

  “Those . . . things!” said Reynold, pointing.

  “They’re just cows,” said Leya. “Herefords, to be precise.”

  “Come on, everybody, let’s go,” urged Blake.

  Then there was a whistle so loud we all stopped and covered our ears.

  “Wait a minute!” said Penelope, taking her fingers out of her mouth.

  “What is it now?” asked Blake.

  “These beautiful cows,” said Penelope. “We can’t just leave them here.”

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  “YOU HAVE GOT to be kidding,” said Blake, staring at the herd of almost two dozen cattle, which were looking back at us with round, worried eyes.

  I’d always assumed cows were dumb animals—heck, the word bovine is used to describe the characteristic of placidity or dullness. But if I could have read the thoughts of these ruminants, I’m guessing they would have been thinking something like, If these humans don’t take us along, we’ll trample them. Which got me wondering whether it would be better to be burned up in a forest fire or run over by a herd of cattle, and I really didn’t have time to think about that.

  I had no idea how we could possibly rescue a bunch of cows, but it did seem awful to leave them there to become roast beef. I mean, if they became roast beef eventually, I would probably be willing to have a sandwich, but there was no chance of that happening here.

  “The woman with the bird and the squirrel is right,” said Leya. “We have to take them with us.”

  When Trent looked at Leya, the expression on his face was similar to the one he wore when she unveiled a new art project, which made me wonder if he really liked her art. But he obviously loved her, because he always said he liked it. Which got me thinking more about how maybe you didn’t always have to like the people you loved, or even think their ideas were any good—if they were family, you just had to back them up.

  “I don’t suppose there are any wranglers among us?” asked Summery, who seemed t
o be counting the cows in her head.

  “My grandfather and grandmother had a ranch, and I used to spend summers there as a little girl,” said Leya.

  “Well, I’d say you’re in charge of this roundup,” said Trent.

  Leya frowned. “But they also had horses.”

  “We don’t have time for this!” insisted Reynold.

  Lyndon looked at his brother, shook his head, and cleared his throat. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Reynold.”

  On the far side of the pasture, the forest was blazing right up to the fence. A huge gust of wind shook the treetops and fanned the flames to heights we hadn’t seen before. Flaming pine cones, needles, and branches sailed into the pasture.

  The cows mooed uneasily. It looked to me like they might stampede at any moment.

  “Spread out, all of you!” ordered Leya. “Make a half circle behind the cows. We’ll walk forward together.”

  As people reluctantly obeyed, Santi pulled so hard on Leya’s hand I thought she might fall over. “What if they bite us? What if they attack?”

  “Cows do not attack,” she said simply.

  I sneaked up behind him and whispered in his ear. “Usually.”

  Leya’s plan worked. We fanned out, and with loud whistles from Penelope and Blake, who were best at that, we all started moving forward with the cows leading the way, followed by us and our odd menagerie. Alpha and Beta suddenly got the idea and ran along either side of the herd, barking at any cows who started to stray. Russell wanted in, too, but he wasn’t quite as good at it, and Penelope had to call him back.

  Gaining speed as we went, we crossed the rest of the pasture, splatted through the muddy creek, and reached the compound. The clumsy cows trampled our lawn chairs, my sleeping area, and even Leya’s art installation before we could stop them, but no one got mad because we obviously had bigger problems to deal with.

  “Herd them toward the wall!” shouted Leya.