Crystal Beach (Crow Hill Book 1)

by Tom Larcombe

  Michael sat and watched the garden. He saw butterflies and hummingbirds visiting the plants, but none of abnormal size like Liz had described. He shook his head in puzzlement.

  I'll figure it out sooner or later, I just hate not knowing. It sounds like something out of the old stories I've heard, but they were really old. I haven't heard of any of them taking place since around World War II.

  There was something else odd that he couldn't quite place. He sat there trying to determine what it was. He could feel it, but he couldn't identify it. It took nearly an hour before he stumbled on the answer.

  Someone on this edge of town started their car. The engine noise came echoing off the cliff, faintly, and Michael had his answer.

  It's too quiet. Normally I can hear engine noise, the occasional car horn, sounds of life from the town. The only thing I heard before that car started up was the wildlife.

  “Hey Calvin,” Michael said, “I'm going to go put some music on, want to come inside?”

  The crow hopped over to the pet door and let himself in the house, Michael stood and followed him in. He went to his stereo and started searching through his CD's.

  “What do you think Calvin, this one?”

  Michael held a CD up for Calvin to see. If a crow could roll its eyes, Calvin did. Michael sighed.

  “You're right. I've got a better idea. How about we fit the music to the mood?”

  He replaced the first CD in the rack and pulled a different one out.

  “This better?”

  Calvin hopped up into the air, flapped his wings once, and landed on the back of the chair. He gave a single “Caw!” that Michael took for approval.

  “Okay, Def Leppard – Hysteria it is,” Michael said.

  He slid the CD into the stereo then sat back in the chair with Calvin.

  * * *

  Michael woke with a stiff neck. He'd fallen asleep in the middle of the third album, after turning off the lights. The nap was unintentional. He'd turned the lights out at sunset since the rest of the town was mostly dark with only the orange light of candles or oil lamps showing through a limited number of windows. He had the idea that being conspicuous about still having power would garner him more visitors than he cared to deal with.

  Calvin was nowhere to be seen. The crow had gotten edgy when it started getting dark and Michael thought he'd probably left right after he fell asleep.

  Crap, I left the door open so Calvin could get in and out. I hope I don't have another raccoon visiting through the open pet door. The last one made a hell of a mess.

  Michael cautiously walked into the dark kitchen. There was enough light for him to make out general outlines and the room looked empty. He walked to the back door, intending to close it, but a flash of light outside caught his attention.

  What's that?

  “Hey,” a voice said softly, “stop flashing your light.”

  “What do you mean?” a different voice replied. “That's your light, not mine.”

  The voices were coming from inside his garden. Michael reached up and pulled down his Mini-14, his hand brushing against his mother's ring on the way up. He checked to make sure the magazine was seated and then flipped on the backyard light. He chambered a round while the intruders were temporarily blinded.

  “Get out of here. I've got a gun and I'll use it if I have to,” Michael called.

  The two men in the garden, one large and the other average sized, were holding their hands over their eyes, trying to shield them from the light. One of the larger man's hands dipped to his waist and came up holding a pistol. Michael fired hurriedly and the noise of the shot echoed off the cliff. The pistol fired and Michael realized that he wasn't the target, yet. The bullet hit the house right near the light fixture.

  Michael fired again, aiming this time, and the larger man dropped his gun. His hands went to his leg and he started running, limping heavily, but trying to get out of the light. The other man grabbed the pistol. He turned to Michael and took a moment to aim. Michael ducked around the corner into the kitchen just before the man fired. The bullet hit just above the door frame sending splinters of wood flying. Michael stepped back out, rifle leveled, and found the two men were both out of sight.

  He turned off the light and waited, listening. He could hear the men moving out in the field. It sounded like they were going down the hill towards the house that was broken into already.

  I'm not chasing them out into the dark. I hit one of them so I'll wait a bit then go get some of his blood. I can set a nice little trap with it in case he comes back.

  He heard a car start down the hill and he looked outside, hoping they'd turn on their headlights. He saw it creeping along, its path illuminated by only the running lights. He could tell that it was a sedan, but nothing else in the dim lights.

  When the lights were out of sight, he pulled a small crystal off a rack near the back door. With a slight effort of will, he activated the crystal and a pool of sunlight spilled from it to illuminate a five foot circle. He walked out into the garden to where the men had been. There was a puddle of blood slowly soaking into the soil. A bandanna sufficed to capture a small amount of it. He went back out of the garden and sat down on the ground.

  Michael closed his eyes and split off a portion of his consciousness. He pressed the blood on the bandanna to the soil beneath him and constructed his spell.

  With the blood as an identifier, he set a trap. Should the man the blood came from step foot onto any of the land Michael considered 'his', the ground beneath him would react. Small tunnels and potholes would form beneath the man's feet, as though he were trying to walk across a field riddled with prairie dog tunnels.

  That should keep him from coming back. If he tries, he'll end up with a broken ankle.

  Michael opened his eyes and was blinded by the lights flashing around him. He blinked for a moment to clear his eyes and when he opened them again, the lights were gone.

  I thought I saw... No, it can't be. The little Fae haven't been reported this close to a town in decades. They've left for the few wild places remaining. But that's the only thing that fits with everything I've seen so far.

  Michael shook his head and stood. He caught sight of something glimmering on his shirt and brushed it off.

  “Well, if you are the little Fae, you're welcome here. If not and you bear no ill-will towards me and mine, you're still welcome.”

  He watched for a moment, hoping for some sort of answer, but all he saw was darkness. Michael turned and went into his house. He made sure that the doors were locked and all the windows on the ground floor were closed, then went to bed. He leaned the Mini-14 against his nightstand after removing the round in the chamber. Sleep was a long time coming. When the adrenaline finally left his system, he collapsed into an exhausted sleep.

  * * *

  Michael woke early the next morning. He sat up and swung his legs off the bed. The sight of his rifle leaning on the nightstand called forth the memories of what had happened last night.

  I should've called the police last night. I guess I wasn't thinking clearly though. I'll do that as soon as I have breakfast.

  He racked the rifle over the backdoor and let Calvin in. Then he told the crow all about the previous night's excitement.

  “So, I guess we've got a night shift for guard duty now. As soon as I could see out back, they flashed to let me know someone was out there. You don't mind, do you? Having someone else around?”

  “Caw!” Calvin cried, then went to his breakfast and started eating.

  “Good, I think they may be the little Fae. The Fae are odd birds, they can be pleasant and helpful, unless someone messes with them. That's the only thing I can think of that fits what we've seen. I'm just surprised they're this close to a town.”

  Calvin continued eating.

  “Yeah, I know. Far fetched isn't it? We'll find out eventually, I hope.”

  Michael put his dishes in the sink and went to the phone.

  “I
need to report that whole mess to the police so we might have a deputy up here again today,” Michael said.

  Calvin let out a series of loud cries.

  “What?” Michael asked.

  Calvin stalked out the pet door, breakfast only half eaten.

  Michael picked up the phone, but there was no dial tone.

  “Great, just what I needed. I'm not about to ride my bike down there to report it and I want to save the gas in the Jeep.”

  Michael went out back and found Calvin brooding on the porch rail.

  “Well, don't worry. The phone's out so I can't call the cops.”

  Calvin let out a “Caw!” and hopped down from the rail. He went through the pet door and when Michael looked in, the crow was finishing his breakfast.

  Guess he didn't like Deputy Jacobs or something. I don't see why not, the man was a little brusque, but I imagine his job's been a bit harder than normal lately.

  Michael set up for another day of trying to expand his garden. He started digging while waiting for Jeff, who showed up much later than he normally would.

  “Aren't you going to be late for school?” Michael asked.

  “No school, they canceled it. Matter of fact they said they might just start summer vacation a week early.”

  “Where's Liz then?”

  “No work for mom either. With no power, she can't watch the monitors. The store's closed. The only people they have working there right now are the armed guards. Mom saw them this morning and told me about it when she got home.”

  “Armed guards when the store is closed? Did she say why?”

  “Yeah, the store got broken into last night. They didn't get much because there was a night watchmen and he heard it, but they're nervous.”

  “I don't blame them. Someone came by last night and tried to raid the garden.”

  Jeff grinned.

  “They did? What'd you do, set them to digging?”

  “No, I didn't think they'd be interested. The big tip-off on that was when they shot at me.”

  Jeff stopped and leaned against his shovel. He looked at Michael's face.

  “You're kidding me, right?”

  “Nope, look next to the light and over the door. You can see where the bullets hit. I shot back and hit one of them in the leg. I wasn't willing to chase them out into the dark though.”

  Jeff went over to the house. He looked at the areas Michael mentioned, then came back.

  “You report it?”

  “I tried to, but the phone's out.”

  “You think they'll be back?”

  “The one I shot will regret it if he comes back. I'm ready for him this time.”

  Jeff raised an eyebrow and dipped his chin to one side.

  “Yes, I set a magical trap for him.”

  Jeff grinned.

  “Well then, maybe we should hope he does come back.”

  “I'd rather they just left me alone, but I won't count on it,” Michael said.

  When Jeff finished digging the last of his bed, they took a lunch break. Michael went out into the garden to harvest food for them to eat. He whistled in amazement, Jeff heard him and came over.

  “I can't believe this, there's more here than there was yesterday even,” Michael said.

  “You said you were going to figure out what was going on, did you?” Jeff asked.

  “I have a theory. It seems a little out there, but I can't think of anything else.”

  “Gonna share it with me?”

  “Well, it leans towards the magic type of thing,” Michael said.

  “No, really? I never would have guessed,” Jeff said, gesturing around the garden with his arm.

  “Okay, well hang with me. Up until the end of World War II there were stories about the little Fae. They'd sometimes decide to favor someone's farm or something like that. All of the sudden gardens would flourish, chickens would lay twice as many eggs, cows would give twice as much milk, that type of thing.”

  “The little Fae?” Jeff asked.

  “Faeries. Magical creatures that can easily influence plants, animals, even humans. Like people, they can be nasty or they can be helpful. Not many of them are neutral though. What I've seen fits the theory. Liz said a big butterfly helped her pick the petals. The little Fae like to appear as butterflies, hummingbirds, or bees if I remember the stories right.”

  Jeff smirked.

  “Like Peter Pan?” he asked.

  “No, not like Peter Pan. These are real creatures I'm talking about. They haven't been seen much since just after World War II though so I wonder if I'm right.”

  “I don't know that I believe it, but I don't have a better idea. Actually, I've got no ideas at all, so I guess we'll go with yours. What else do you know about them?”

  “Not a whole lot. I wasn't born yet the last time there was a verified sighting of the Fae in the US. I just learned a little bit about them in school.”

  “So what do we do about it?” Jeff asked.

  “Do about it? Nothing, I told them they were welcome here. I'm not about to complain that my garden is doing better then ever. Even if it does feel a bit like cheating.”

  Jeff nodded.

  “Well, I have to leave right after lunch. Miriam did have some work for me yesterday. More than I could finish then, so I told her I'd come back today and finish up. I was going to go over after school, but I thought I'd try to take care of it earlier since I've got the day off.”

  “Great, I'm glad you can help her out, she can use it. She told me her own kids were pretty useless in that regard. Plus you get something other than vegetables to eat,” Michael said.

  “Tell you what, you were right about the eggs tasting better. I had a couple of them for breakfast this morning.”

  “Tell Miriam I said hi, would you?”

  “I'll do that. So, what do you want to pick for lunch?”

  * * *

  Michael looked at the garden and started picking into the bags he'd brought out with him. His bike and trailer waited behind the house and as he filled each bag he placed it in the trailer.

  I don't know how to explain this to Father Anderson, but I can't let it go to waste. I certainly don't want people to know where it's all coming from either, so it has to go to him to distribute.

  Once again he took his bike and trailer down to the church. Michael tried to avoid any awkward explanations by taking the produce straight to the kitchen, but his plans were foiled. When he started carrying the bags into the kitchen, Father Anderson was there himself, helping prepare a meal.

  “Michael, it's very good to see you again. Your vegetables were well received last night. Most of what we get is canned and processed goods. Several of our people were commenting on the food last night though, saying how much better it was than normal.”

  “Well, I've got some more for you today.”

  “How large a garden do you have young man?”

  “It started the season at half an acre but I'm increasing the size. It's just being incredibly productive this year. I have some theories about why, I'm just unwilling to share them as of yet.”

  “No matter what the specific reason, perhaps it's simply Someone recognizing our need here and coming to our aid.”

  “That's one way to look at it Father. Excuse me, I have several more bags to bring in for you.”

  As Michael piled bag after bag of produce on the counter, Father Anderson's eyes grew wider.

  “Perhaps you can share that reason with me if you determine exactly what it is. I have a small garden patch behind my house, but in the past two days you've given us as much as I would normally be able to grow in an entire season, if not two.”

  “Father, if I find out for sure, I'll see what I can do,” Michael answered. “I need to go now though, I've some tasks to take care of for the mine.”

  “Bless you son, this food may not have all the calories we need here, but it certainly helps with the nutrition end of things. The processed foods we normally serve just
aren't as good in that respect.”

  “Thank you Father. One other thing, someone tried to raid my garden last night so if you could not mention where the food is coming from, I'd appreciate that. I'd rather not have people showing up there and asking for it, or worse still, just coming and trying to take it.”

  Father Anderson pinched his thumb and forefinger together and drew them across his mouth.

  “I'll keep my lips sealed,” he said.

  Michael returned to the house. This time he made it part-way up the hill before having to push the bike the rest of the way. When he got back the bike and trailer went in the garage which he locked. Then he went to the mine buildings. There were twenty crystals for him to drain this time.

  An hour later he left the building. The crystals from last week were never picked up, so now he had forty-five of them sitting there.

  I'll have to figure out what to do with those if they don't get picked up. No reason to leave them just lying there. I bet I could find a use for the smaller ones too.

  As Michael walked down to the house, Calvin came flying down and landed on the garden fence.

  “Caw!” Calvin called.

  “What's up Calvin?”

  The crow took up and flew back towards the mine buildings. Michael thought about ignoring him for a second then gave in and followed. Calvin landed at the edge of the strawberry patch and looked back. When he got closer, Michael saw that the patch was now a profusion of glittering white blossoms. He looked closer and saw that underneath the blossoms were hundreds of berries. The smallest of them was the size of the larger ones Liz had picked a few days earlier.

  How am I going to keep up with all of this? I wonder... If Jeff really is out of school for the summer now, maybe he'd be interested in working up here some more. Keeping up with this harvest is eating up a lot of my time. I should've had the new section of garden done by now, not that I really need it if the garden keeps producing like it is. I'll ask him if he's interested when he comes by for work today.

  Michael went down and grabbed his hat and shovel out of the shed. He set to work on his new garden addition, determined to finish another one of the beds today. He dug until Jeff showed up.

  “Here for work?” Michael called.