The Owl Keeper

by Christine Brodien-Jones

  He couldn't remember ever seeing such radiant colors--vivid yellows and reds and greens--all vibrating dizzily around him. Was this how the world appeared to other people every day? The sky rotated above, surprising him over and over with its blueness.

  Ahead, light bounced off the gray-blue stones of the ancient

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  bridge. He could see Rose standing at the distant end of it, looking off in the opposite direction: a slight, dark, dreamy figure with a black dog at her side.

  What was Rose doing with that savage animal? Did it have her cornered on the bridge? Was it ready to attack? Worried for her safety, Max raced on, pounding over the stone floor bridge.

  "Rose!" he yelled, his panic mounting. A brisk wind whipped against his face. "Rose, are you all right?"

  "Max!" shouted Rose, turning.

  Halfway across the bridge, Max skidded to a halt. He'd suddenly noticed that one side was missing a section of the stone rail. Someone--a maintenance worker probably--had casually leaned a two-by-four wooden plank across the empty space.

  Staring at the plank, he thought how easy it would be to fall. And falling was one of Max's worst fears. Without meaning to, he peered over the side, and froze when he saw the drop. The water was hundreds, maybe thousands, of feet below--so far that his mind couldn't work out the distance. He had never been up this high in his life. Far, far beneath he saw a vortex of black water spinning madly.

  His stomach lurched and he felt the cogs and wheels inside his head crunch to a halt. In an instant his joy evaporated. Panic overwhelmed him.

  "Max, they're coming!" Rose yelled. "Run!"

  Transfixed, he heard a sound drift over from the field--the smooth hum of a glider--and he felt a cold rush of dread and panic. The wind-borne vessel was landing!

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  Moments later Mrs. Crumlin's voice came calling out to him: "Stay put, Maxwell, don't you move!"

  "Run, Max!" shouted Rose.

  Fear and sadness subdued him as he stood there, shivering wildly, unable to escape. This was the effect extreme heights had on him: they paralyzed every inch of his body. He wanted more than anything to be brave and rescue Rose, but his feet were stuck fast. He realized he wasn't going anywhere.

  Moments later, he heard Mrs. Crumlin, huffing and puffing as she clumped her way across the bridge toward him. "Don't move or you'll fall!" she shrilled.

  Then her sausage fingers hooked onto his collar. Max slumped in anguish, helpless to fight back, and a dark curtain of despair fell over him.

  "I have the boy, doctor!" crowed Mrs. Crumlin triumphantly. "Frightened as a rabbit, he is!"

  Max could see Dr. Tredegar loping across the bridge in a yellow slicker and alligator shoes, carrying his red leather medical bag.

  "Nasty little beggar!" The doctor shook a fist at his shaggy black hound. "Where have you been, you ungrateful mongrel?"

  Max stared in bafflement at the scene. Instead of attacking Rose, the dog sat cowering next to her, looking frightened to death.

  "Leave Helios alone!" shouted Rose. Max watched, confused, as she threw her arms around the animal's neck, looking like they'd been friends all her life.

  "Correction, young lady!" shouted Dr. Tredegar, and Max saw

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  him flash his square teeth. "That flea-bitten beast has no name! It belongs to me!"

  "He's my dog now!" she yelled back. "He's Helios, the sun god!"

  Wasn't it just like Rose to name a dog after a Greek god? thought Max. Rose was a warrior girl, all right: she always stood her ground no matter who threatened her. She'd even won over that vicious hound.

  Then, from behind, Mrs. Crumlin's slablike arms closed around him, squeezing the breath out of his lungs.

  The doctor collected himself and turned his attention to Max. "Righty-o, son, we have some work to finish, don't we?" Twisting his mouth, he reached into his bag. "Long overdue, this injection." He gave the vial a quick shake.

  This was so unfair, thought Max drearily. He had finally realized he wasn't sick or allergic to anything, only to be captured by these two maniacs.

  "You poisoned me and lied about my allergy to sun particles!" he croaked. "Look, I'm alive! The sunlight didn't kill me!"

  "All part of the High Echelon's plan," replied Mrs. Crumlin tartly. "We kept you out of harm's way, didn't we? Our job was to distance you from the rest of the world."

  Max tuned her out. Instead, he admired the claw marks down the side of her face. Nice work, owl, he thought.

  "Sunlight was never an option," added Dr. Tredegar. "It weakens the retina. Skræk Masters need excellent night vision." He glowered at Mrs. Crumlin. "Why is this boy so much more trouble than the others? These endless questions and accusations, this incessant running away! I'm fed up chasing after this child."

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  Max stared at the doctor in surprise. There were other kids like him? Were they getting injections too? The thought sent an icy tingle down his spine. Then he remembered Dr. Tredegar talking to Mrs. Crumlin about the "chosen twelve."

  "You're doing this to other kids, aren't you? You're giving them injections like me!" he shouted. "The twelve, right? The Twelve Henchmen of Sengeneth?"

  "Clever boy," murmured Dr. Tredegar.

  "Yes, Maxwell, you will have twelve able-bodied apprentices, all the same age as you." Mrs. Crumlin pushed back Max's sleeve and wrenched out his arm. "Don't move a muscle."

  "After this injection not even your little runaway friend will recognize you." Dr. Tredegar gave Max a ghoulish smile. "Cold, clammy skin, paper-thin wings, pointed teeth. And, oh yes, a distinctive odor that gets more pungent with time."

  Max stared at him in wide-eyed horror. He felt faint, disgusted, dizzy with shock. "Get off me!" he yelled, flailing against Mrs. Crumlin, wild with terror. "You're not making me a Skræk Master, you're turning me into a skræk!" he screamed, punching, scratching, spitting and kicking.

  "You are mistaken, Maxwell." Mrs. Crumlin kept her arms locked firmly around him as he tried to claw his way out of her grasp. "A Skræk Master must instill fear in the enemy, his every command must be obeyed by the skræks. The High Echelon's grand scheme is to infuse your human features with those of a skræk. With your changed appearance and no-fear genes, you will be truly terrifying."

  "Keep the boy still!" growled Dr. Tredegar.

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  Gripping Max's shoulders, Mrs. Crumlin shook him so hard he thought the bones in his neck would snap. "Rick, rack, ruin--" sang the doctor.

  "Run, Max!" yelled Rose. He could see her on the far end of the bridge, waving her arms. "Run for your life!"

  He couldn't run, he was being held too tightly, but he realized there was one thing that he could do. Shaking off his mitten, Max slipped his free hand into his pocket.

  Dr. Tredegar slunk toward him, the InjectaPort winking in the sunlight.

  Mrs. Crumlin chimed in: "Over before you can say--" Max closed his fist over Gran's shell. "Crimson--"

  With fierce resolve Max tore away from his captor and slashed the shell across the back of the doctor's hand. Dr. Tredegar shrieked and the InjectaPort clattered to the ground.

  "You little fool!" snarled the doctor, holding up his hand. "Look what you've done!"

  Max noted with grim satisfaction the blood streaming from the man's fingers. "You come anywhere near me or Rose and I'll kill you!" he screamed.

  A snarl still on his lips, Dr. Tredegar took a step back, nursing his wounded hand. Max could see he was only inches away from the broken section of the bridge.

  Then, as if out of nowhere, the silver owl swooped down, hooting and flapping bravely, one wing a bit stiff. At the sight of her, Max's hopes soared. His owl was coming to rescue them!

  "A silver owl!" yelled Mrs. Crumlin. "Kill it!"

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  "Don't you touch her!" cried Max, enraged that anyone would harm his beautiful owl. He brandished the shell at Mrs. Crumlin, blood dripping from its edges.

  "How dare yo
u threaten me!" huffed Mrs. Crumlin as she started toward Max. But before she could take a step, the shaggy black hound sprang to its feet.

  "No!" shouted Max, terrified that the dog would tear his owl apart.

  "Attack!" ordered Dr. Tredegar. "Destroy the owl!"

  With a shrill cry, the owl landed on Helios's shoulder and the dog growled. Max's heart lurched. He's going to kill her! he thought, watching openmouthed as the owl clung to the dog's fur. But instead of going for the owl, Helios raced toward the doctor, the owl crouched on its back, blinking her eyes fiercely.

  Max was terrified. Why wasn't his owl flying to safety? Had she damaged her wing again? He felt faint and sick, thinking that his silver owl might die.

  "Rose, call off Helios!" he shouted.

  "Attack, you stupid beast!" ordered Dr. Tredegar.

  Max watched the dog jump up, its paws thumping against the doctor's chest. Arms flailing, Dr. Tredegar staggered back, his alligator shoes striking the plank, sending it flying off the bridge. The doctor's bloody hand reached for a railing that was no longer there.

  After that, everything seemed fast and wild and not quite real to Max. Eyes bulging, Dr. Tredegar clutched at the air, his tinted glasses sliding down his nose. Mrs. Crumlin barreled forward, pushing Max aside, and the doctor grasped her pudgy hand.

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  For one brief moment, Max saw their eyes lock in horror and disbelief.

  The doctor's gangly frame teetered backward and, with a shudder, he let go. For an instant he froze in midair--then he was gone. Stunned, Max looked over the bridge's edge and his heart leapt into his throat. This isn't happening, he thought, it can't be real.

  He watched Dr. Tredegar spinning down, down through the gorge, slicker flapping, mouth opened in a silent scream. Max imagined him as a bird with yellow wings, hurtling to the river in a downward spiral. He squeezed his eyes shut.

  Hearing a splash, Max sucked in his breath. Opening his eyes, he peered once again into the terrifying abyss. He could see, many hundreds of feet below, black water churning around the tiny shape of Dr. Tredegar. In disbelief, Max watched the waves close over the doctor's head, pulling him under.

  Shivering uncontrollably, Max stared into the raging maelstrom; then light flooded down from the sun, so unexpectedly dazzling that he could no longer see.

  Feeling his legs give way, Max sat down hard on the bridge. Next to him lay the doctor's tinted glasses, one lens smashed, and the InjectaPort bubbling with purple liquid.

  He couldn't stop his teeth from chattering. "Dr. Tredegar is gone," he said to himself, "sucked into a whirlpool." It had happened in less than a minute. He'd never seen anyone die before. When he touched the InjectaPort, the cold metal sent a shiver through him; without thinking he slipped it into his jacket pocket.

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  He looked up and saw Mrs. Crumlin stumping toward him. "I knew you and that urchin were nothing but trouble," she seethed. "What a despicable thing you've done, Maxwell, murdering Dr. Tredegar!"

  Max scuttled away from her. Why was it his fault? Did she mean that if he'd warned Tredegar about the missing rail, he'd still be alive? Or was she referring to his threat to kill the doctor?

  "Shut up, you old dingbat!" yelled Rose. Max watched Rose bury her face in the dog's fur. "Max didn't kill him, Helios did!" The silver owl darted back and forth, skimming over her head.

  "We have a problem, Maxwell." Mrs. Crumlin ignored Rose and stared at him with lusterless eyes. "A rather serious problem, I'm afraid. Never mind, we'll sort it out." She held out a muffin. "Here, eat this."

  Max stared at it, feeling queasy.

  "Don't touch that muffin, Max!" yelled Rose. "Run!"

  Max was suddenly ravenous. He reached for the muffin, then quickly pulled his hand away. Even in his tired and confused state, he knew better than to eat anything Mrs. Crumlin offered him.

  "Don't be a fool!" Mrs. Crumlin waved the muffin in front of his face. "You need this for strength and nourishment, Maxwell. Now, eat it," she ordered.

  "No--" Max started to say, but before he could utter another word, Mrs. Crumlin was cramming the muffin into his mouth.

  To his horror, he accidentally swallowed a chunk of it. The custard was rancid--he could taste the foulness of it right away-- and it seared his mouth and throat. In a panic he spit out the rest of the muffin.

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  At once his head felt strange and airy as if his skull had been hollowed out. He realized that this had been no ordinary muffin, but a megastrength one. Mrs. Crumlin had added some medicinal ingredient to the muffin mix, a toxic flavoring to dull his mind.

  "What did you put inside this?" he tried to say, but the words got jumbled inside his throat.

  Mrs. Crumlin, smelling of bleach and bitter chocolate, loomed over him. "It will be dreadful if they send you to Children's Prison. Imagine being locked inside a cell all day long. No windows, no trees, no Mrs. Crumlin to cheer you up with goodies and mugs of hot cocoa. Solitary confinement for life will not be a fun time. And that's what under-thirteens get for murder."

  Confused and angry, Max stared up at her, convinced she was trying to frighten him. Gran said the High Echelon had always used fear to control people--it was their most powerful weapon--and Mrs. Crumlin obviously took her cues from the High Echelon. She would do whatever it took, he realized, to carry out orders.

  "Run, Max!" hollered Rose.

  "I didn't kill the doctor, I just threatened him!" cried Max, shaking with rage. "The dog pushed him over and you know it."

  "Ah, but the authorities don't know, do they?" Grabbing his arm, Mrs. Crumlin pulled him roughly to his feet. "When I file my report, whom do you think the High Echelon will believe? An underage runaway--or me?"

  Max didn't answer. The gut-numbing vertigo was back and he could no longer think straight. Thoughts fell and scattered in his head like board game chips.

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  "Forty years I've worked for them, so I think we know the answer to that." Nudging him forward, Mrs. Crumlin steered him to the gap in the bridge. "It certainly is a long way to the bottom, isn't it? Takes one's breath away. Avert your eyes--I would."

  Max gazed into the black raging river and his head began to spin. Images of Dr. Tredegar came flooding back.

  "You're traumatized, Maxwell, you've had a severe shock," said Mrs. Crumlin in a condescending tone. "Come along now, time to go home."

  Traumatized. Shock. Max thought the words sounded scary and ugly. Home. That was a good word. It made Max think of food and warmth and eiderdown quilts, silent evening meals and rounds of Dome Delirium in the parlor. Mugs of hot cocoa, Mrs. Crumlin slamming around mixing bowls, songs on the radio--

  A voice cut through his thoughts. "She's lying, Max, she's deranged!" shouted Rose. "Remember the Owl Keeper!"

  "Block that voice out of your head," ordered Mrs. Crumlin. As she led him off the bridge, he felt the last of his willpower slip away.

  His thoughts reduced to sludge, Max stepped into the field. There was a bitter taste inside his mouth: that disgusting muffin. Never mind, he told himself, it was important to obey his guardian and he must never, ever talk back to her. She was the voice of authority.

  "The wind-borne vessel!" cried Mrs. Crumlin, pointing. "They've moved it to the other side of the field. Hmmph! Seems we have a walk ahead of us."

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  Max tried to speak, but his mind was mixed up like batter. He knew he should be excited to be returning home, but for some reason he wasn't.

  "The owls!" That voice again, as distant as the stars. Rose's voice. "We have to find the silver owls!"

  Totally blank on the inside, Max waded through the tall grass. Cold tendrils of fog moved shadowlike through his head. Who was Rose? And why was she shouting about silver owls if they were extinct?

  And if they weren't yet extinct, he told himself, it was going to be his job to make sure they were soon.

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  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  [Image: Mrs.
Crumlin.]

  Hunched against the wind, Max plodded across the field, his mind as blank as a sheet of paper. In the distance a high voice was shouting his name, but he no longer knew whose voice it was. His will to fight was gone.

  Dark clouds blotted out the sun and a heavy mist drifted down. The wind-borne vessel hovered wraithlike over the field. Max knew he should be brimming with excitement--he'd never ridden in a wind-borne vessel before--but he was too detached from everything around him to even care. Only one thing was real, and he saw it each time he closed his

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  eyes: a tiny human shape with yellow wings, spinning down and down in an endless spiral. The image terrified him.

  "Did you hear me, Maxwell?" asked Mrs. Crumlin in an icy voice. "I asked you to hand over the InjectaPort."

  Max threw her a quizzical look. The InjectaPort, he knew, was somehow important.

  "I saw you sneak it into your pocket." Her tone was sharp. "Dig it out. Now!"

  Automatically he reached into his jacket pocket, thinking how it must be true that Mrs. Crumlin had eyes in the back of her head. He pulled out a thin metal object and held it in his hand. When he shook the InjectaPort, he could see liquid sloshing inside. That sparkly stuff meant something, but he couldn't remember what. Fog thickened around him, shrouding the wind-borne vessel and blurring Mrs. Crumlin, giving the scene an air of unreality.

  "This way to the aircraft." Mrs. Crumlin steered him to the right. "The InjectaPort, Maxwell. Hand it over."

  Max held the InjectaPort at his side, unwilling to let go of it. He stole a glance at his guardian's big, billowing frame as she stomped through the grass in her quilted raincoat, its hem muddied and torn. Unlike his grandmother, who had loved the outdoors, Mrs. Crumlin seemed awkward and out of place.