Watch Hollow

by Gregory Funaro

  Lucy tromped through the water to the bank opposite the Shadow Woods and began moving against the gentle current, keeping to the shadows as best she could. After a short distance, the insides of her toes began to hurt and Lucy took off her flip-flops. Fennish held them in his teeth as Lucy hopped from stone to stone, using the poker as a walking stick. Often, she would stop and listen, her eyes, her ears ever vigilant for any sign of Tempus Crow or the Garr. She could hear all sorts of night noises in the woods to her right; but to her left, on the far side of the narrow river, the Shadow Woods loomed lifeless and silent in a seamless wall of black.

  They traveled in silence for about fifteen minutes, and then Fennish told Lucy to stop. Lucy slipped on her flip-flops again and looked around. In the Shadow Woods to her left, she could see a murky opening in the trees like the tunnel of branches behind the house. Lucy had broken a sweat hurrying along the riverbank, but all at once it seemed her body heat—and her courage—began to evaporate.

  Lucy shivered. She could hardly believe she was here. Three days ago, her biggest fear had been missing out on a summer back home with her friends. And now here she was, the caretaker of a magical house on a mission with a magical rat to save a bunch of magical animals from a magical tree monster who lived in some magical woods.

  A sob rose in Lucy’s throat; and suddenly, more than anything, she missed her mother. The missing always came on her like that—powerfully and when she least expected it—but tonight, Lucy wondered if her mother could see her. Was she mad at her for what she was doing? Was she proud? And then there was Oliver and Pop. Had they awakened to find her missing? And what would become of them if she didn’t come back? Was this whole trip a fool’s errand?

  “Are you all right, Miss Lucy?” Fennish asked, and Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. She would come back—so would the animals—and when Lucy looked again at the Shadow Woods, a strange calm came over her. Just like her mother had been her caretaker until she got sick, Lucy was now the caretaker for the animals. And that meant she was right where she needed to be.

  “I’m fine,” Lucy said, gripping the poker tightly, and she glanced at Oliver’s watch—1:32. Meridian had suggested they wait at least twenty minutes before turning on the lantern. “Do you think it’s been long enough now?”

  “We can only hope,” Fennish said. “But be ready to run at any moment.”

  Lucy nodded, and with a deep breath, she tromped across the river and carried Fennish up the bank into the Shadow Woods.

  The darkness consumed them at once, and after a few yards, Lucy could no longer hear the river at all—only the soft crunch of her footsteps along the forest bed. The calm she had felt only seconds before was replaced with a heart-hammering dread. The hairs on her neck bristled. Behind her was a jagged patch of moonlight, and up ahead a curtain of unbroken gloom. Lucy turned on Oliver’s watch-light.

  “You’ll give us away!” Fennish hissed, and Lucy quickened her pace.

  “I need to see where I’m going!” she hissed back, aiming the light on the path, but still, much of it spilled over into the woods around her. The trees looked almost alive in the passing shadows, their branches poised like tentacles ready to snatch them at any moment into the darkness.

  Lucy moaned in fright and broke into a run, holding the poker out in front of her like a hunter, and after fifty yards or so, Fennish cried, “There!”

  The rat leaped from her arms, and Lucy shone her light after him.

  “I’ll release the others from their cages,” Fennish said—he was now standing in the opening of a tall wigwam-like dwelling that disappeared up into the trees. “You keep watch out here. Any sign of Tempus Crow or the Garr, you make a run for the river, you understand?”

  Lucy nodded, and as Fennish slipped inside the wigwam, Lucy trained her light up along the side of it. Branches arched down from the forest canopy in such a way that it was hard to tell where the wigwam began and the trees ended—and not only that, the structure appeared to be at the intersection of three tunnels. One was the tunnel down which they had just traveled; another, Lucy figured, must lead back toward the house; and the last— Well, Lucy had no desire to find out where that tunnel led.

  “Go, go, get to the river!” Fennish cried, emerging from the wigwam. The missing animals poured out a second later and hurried past Lucy down the path. Lucy recognized all of them from their holes in the clock as they passed: the beaver, the squirrel, the raccoon, the skunk, the fawn, the duck, and finally the turtle, which Lucy remembered went in the five hole.

  But where was Torsten Six?

  Lucy froze, and as if on cue, the little dog cried for help from somewhere deep within the woods. A heavy rumbling and the crack of snapping branches followed, and then a thunderous voice bellowed: “I WANT YOUR FEAR, TORSTEN SIX!”

  The earth shook with a quickening boom, boom, boom! The Garr’s footsteps, Lucy understood with dawning horror. And they were getting closer!

  “Oh no,” Fennish cried, coming back. “He’s chasing him like he chased me!”

  “The Garr’s been frightening us senseless ever since you escaped,” said the turtle, who had made it only a few steps down the path.

  “HELP! HELP!” the little dog screamed, and the Garr howled with laughter.

  “We’ve got to save him!” Lucy cried, and Fennish snarled.

  “You get Frederick Five here and the others across the river,” the rat said, nudging Lucy toward the turtle. “I’ll distract the Garr.”

  “But Fennish,” Lucy protested, “you’re still weak!”

  “Aye, but now I’m angry, too,” the rat growled. “Now go!”

  Lucy picked up the turtle and raced down the path after the other animals. She caught up with them at the edge of the woods, and together everyone slid down the embankment and splashed across the river as the Garr bellowed and boomed behind them.

  “Oh, thank you, thank you!” the animals cried, and then Torsten screamed: “HELP ME, PLEASE!”

  He was closer now, Lucy realized as the boom, boom, booms grew louder. A moment later, the little dog’s dim shape appeared at the edge of the woods.

  “Hurry, Torsten, run!” Lucy cried, splashing back out into the river, and before she realized what was happening, Tempus Crow appeared from nowhere and dove straight for her.

  “Look out!” one of the animals cried, and everything next happened in a blur. Lucy dropped the turtle and swung the poker, knocking Tempus Crow out of sight into the shadows. At the same time, Torsten leaped from the riverbank and knocked Lucy backward into the water. The fire poker went flying, and Torsten splashed up into Lucy’s lap. He was shaking, and his eyes were wide with terror.

  “It’s the Garr, the Garr! He’s coming after us!” Torsten cried. More booming and snapping of branches, and then Fennish leaped out of the woods and tumbled down the riverbank. At the same time, a monstrous, hand-shaped branch exploded out of the woods, nearly snatching him; and Fennish splashed head over tail into the water. Lucy scrambled after him, scooped up the rat into her arms along with Torsten, and quickly joined the other animals on the opposite riverbank.

  “The Garr,” Frederick Five whispered, his head retracting back into his shell, and Lucy found a pair of glowing red eyes the size of footballs glaring back at her from across the river. The clock animals shuddered and moaned, and then the Garr’s giant, egg-shaped head and massive shoulders emerged from the woods. Even in the moonlight, Lucy could see the monster’s skin was made of bark.

  The Garr tentatively reached for the river, his fingers barely touching the water, and then hisssssssssss! The Garr shrieked, snatching back his hand as if he’d touched a hot stove. He zeroed his red eyes on Lucy and growled—low and creaking like tree limbs in the wind.

  “GIVE ME BACK MY ANIMALS,” the Garr croaked, and his lips parted to reveal dozens of jagged black teeth against a wide, fiery crescent of a mouth.

  Lucy, her throat tight with terror, clutched Fennish and Torsten tightly to her chest and shook
her head.

  The Garr gave a deafening roar and then, without warning, grabbed a nearby tree trunk and snapped it in half.

  “RUN!” Fennish cried, leaping from Lucy’s arms. Torsten dove after him, Lucy grabbed Frederick, and everyone scrambled up the riverbank into the woods. A moment later, the ground shook with the thundering slam of the shadow wood tree behind them. Bright-orange light flooded everything, and Lucy felt a blast of heat on her back.

  Lucy whirled—the shadow wood tree had burst into flames—but then, just as quickly, the flames burned out, the tree crumbled, and its ashes were swept away into the river. The Garr howled in frustration.

  “The sunstone,” Fennish said, breathless, and he collapsed at Lucy’s feet. Lucy set down Frederick, picked up Fennish, and with sudden rage, shouted across the river: “You stay away from our house!”

  The Garr roared at Lucy hatefully, then shrank back into the Shadow Woods. Branches snapped, the monster’s red eyes blinked out, and in the next moment, there was only the babbling of the river and the pounding of Lucy’s heart.

  “Fennish,” said Torsten, panting with fright, “he distracted the Garr so I could make it to the river—but I fear the monster wounded him again.”

  “Poor old Fennish,” said Frederick, peeking out from his shell. “Is he—?”

  The turtle couldn’t bring himself to say “dead,” and the other animals gazed up at Lucy anxiously, their eyes little more than smudges in the shadows at the edge of the woods. Lucy pressed her ear against Fennish’s side. His breathing was shallow, but his heartbeat was steady.

  “He’ll be okay,” Lucy said, stroking the rat’s head. “We’re going home now. All of us. We’re going home.”

  Twelve

  Teddy’s Revenge

  Oliver awoke that morning to the blinding glare of sunlight in his eyes. It had to be after eight o’clock, but he couldn’t tell for sure because his watch was missing and Lucy was still asleep in her bed. Oliver slipped on his glasses—wait, Lucy was not asleep in her bed. It was just the lump of her pillow between the sheets.

  Oliver quickly got dressed and, slipping across the hallway into the bathroom, checked his face in the mirror. It was as he feared. There were two new pimples on his forehead, and his chin looked worse. Oliver sighed.

  “Idiot,” he muttered. Next time Teddy gave him an acorn, he would use the same amount of dust that he’d used when he rubbed it on his face by accident. No more, no less. And no sunstone cream either, no matter how badly it itched. That had to be the reason why the pimples were coming back. The jar’s label said sunstone cream counteracted the effects of shadow wood.

  Oliver washed his face and padded out into the kitchen, where he found his father fixing a cup of coffee.

  “Looks like we all slept in,” he said, and Oliver asked where Lucy was. “She’s still curled up in the library, dead to the world.”

  “The library?” Oliver asked, pushing up his glasses.

  “I found her in there this morning when I went looking for my coffeepot and burner.” Mr. Tinker tapped the metal rack with his spoon. “How much you want to bet your snoring kept her awake last night? Or maybe it was mine. I have been known to saw some wood in my time.”

  Mr. Tinker chuckled, but Oliver frowned. He’d been the last one to use the burner in the kitchen when he’d heated up some water to wash his face the night before. That meant Lucy must have taken the burner and the coffeepot into the library when she went in there to sleep. But why?

  “Well, let her sleep a little longer,” said Mr. Tinker, pouring his coffee into his travel mug. “I was going to drag you guys on some more errands, but let me head out now, okay? Lucy was miserable yesterday and—well, would you mind holding down the fort here while I’m gone? I won’t be long, and I’ll pick up a pizza for lunch.”

  As Mr. Tinker consulted a list he’d set on the counter, Oliver quietly made his way to the library and cracked open the doors. One of the big leather chairs had been moved so it faced the hearth, and there was Lucy, fast asleep under a blanket with that stupid dog statue again under her arm. Oliver sniffed at the air. The library smelled of that stinky sunstone cream and something else—was it tuna fish?—and there were empty bowls on the floor in front of the fireplace. What the heck had Lucy been up to last night?

  “Psst!” Oliver turned to find his father glaring angrily at him from the foyer. He jerked his thumb for Oliver to get out of there, and Oliver gently closed the doors. A minute later, he was on the front porch, waving goodbye as his father’s truck sputtered out of sight into the Shadow Woods at the end of the driveway.

  The Shadow Woods.

  Oliver thought they looked closer but couldn’t tell for sure—not the way he could when he looked at the carriage house—and so he bounded off the porch and around back to check. Oliver sighed. The carriage house looked much the same—maybe a few more saplings here and there—but nothing major, he thought.

  “Why didn’t you use the acorn?”

  Oliver whirled. It was Teddy, calling to him from the edge of the Shadow Woods. But as Oliver drew closer, he noticed that Teddy’s fists were clenched, and his eyes were hard with anger.

  “When someone gives you a gift, it’s an insult not to use it,” Teddy said, and Oliver stopped a couple of yards away from him. There was an edge in Teddy’s voice that made him nervous. “Your face is a mess. Why didn’t you use the acorn?”

  “I did use it,” Oliver said, his voice cracking. “I used too much, in fact, and had to apply some cream to stop the itching.”

  Teddy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What kind of cream?”

  An image of the acorn sizzling on the path flashed through Oliver’s mind, and for some reason, he thought it best not to tell Teddy about the sunstone cream.

  “Calamine lotion,” Oliver said instead. Teddy scowled and dropped his eyes as if he was trying to think fast on his feet.

  “Where’s your sister?” he asked finally.

  “She’s still sleeping.”

  “Oh, I’ll wager she is,” Teddy said, smiling bitterly. “Busy, busy, busy. Did she tell you what she did last night?”

  “What do you mean?” Oliver asked, his stomach twisting with dread, and Teddy’s demeanor changed instantly. He looked almost guilty.

  “Well, I don’t want to get her into trouble . . .”

  “Get her into trouble for what?” Oliver asked, his voice cracking.

  “It’s better if I show you.”

  Teddy stepped aside and gestured for Oliver to enter past him into the woods. Oliver pushed up his glasses. His heart was pounding now, and the back of his neck prickled with the premonition that something very bad was about to happen.

  “I—er—I can’t,” Oliver stammered. “I have to keep an eye on Lucy while our father is at the store. What did she do?”

  “She stole something very important to me,” Teddy said, his eyes again growing angry, and Oliver’s head was suddenly swimming.

  “What are you talking about? Lucy’s never stolen anything in her life.”

  “The Shadow Woods have a strange effect on people. You should know that better than anyone, Oliver Tinker.” Teddy gestured again for Oliver to enter the woods. “Come, let me show you what she did.”

  Oliver’s feet remained rooted to the spot. “Just tell me what she stole.”

  “She broke into my house and stole my statues,” Teddy said deliberately, as if spelling it out for a child. “But she didn’t steal all of them. There is still one statue left. The cuckoo bird.”

  “Wait—you mean the clock animals?” Teddy nodded. “But why do you have—”

  “Because they’re a nuisance!” Teddy spat. “Just like your sister. She thinks she’s so smart, but without the cuckoo bird, you Tinkers will never get that clock ticking again—not the way you want. Now how about you march that pimply face of yours back into the house and bring me what’s rightfully mine?”

  Oliver was so shocked he couldn’t speak an
d just shook his head, “No.” Teddy smiled.

  “I see, then,” he said quietly. “You’ve known all along that the animals power the clock, haven’t you? But they power much more than that, and now that they’re back in the house, I’m afraid I need to change my plans before your father learns the truth.”

  Teddy produced an acorn from his pocket and held it between his thumb and forefinger as if he were saying “Okay?”—but Oliver suddenly knew that things were not okay. Every fiber in his body screamed at him to run, but before Oliver could move his legs, the world dimmed, and something crunched and crackled behind him.

  Oliver spun around, and his heart seized in terror. Whereas only moments before he had been standing at the edge of the Shadow Woods, Oliver was now standing inside them, a whole ten yards or so down the path. And there, silhouetted against the mouth of the tunnel of branches, was Teddy, blocking his way back toward the house.

  Oliver’s eyes bulged in disbelief.

  “You Tinkers are tinkering with things you do not understand,” Teddy said, stepping closer, and a large crow swooped down from the trees and lighted on his shoulder. Oliver could not see the bird clearly in the shadows, but for some reason, he felt sure it was the same crow that had pooped all over Theo and Betty Bigsby.

  But that’s impossible, Oliver told himself, backing away—all of this was impossible—and then the crow spread its wings and lurched toward him.

  “Boo!”

  Oliver shrieked and took off down the path, fully aware that he was running into the Shadow Woods. And yet Oliver kept running; his only thought was that he needed to get away. An image of his mother in the graveyard flashed before his eyes—yes, the crow had been there in his nightmare, too, he now remembered. But this was no nightmare; this was real.

  Oliver was so terrified that he could hardly breathe, and what little air entered his nostrils smelled of rotting leaves and garbage. The trees dissolved into a wall of murk rushing past, and soon, he could barely see ten feet ahead.

  Oliver slowed down and glanced behind him. Teddy and the crow were gone, but before Oliver had time to process what had happened, he came to a wide, cylindrical structure made of branches. Oliver dimly registered that it resembled a nuclear reactor—except at the top, where the branches blended in with the forest canopy.