Puddlejumpers

by Mark Jean, Christopher Carlson

  The stars glittered above like ethereal jewels as Ernie hustled up the backside of Black Rock. Sassy was still tied to the pine. He nuzzled the pony’s nose and fed her some sugar cubes from his pocket, then crawled to the edge of the cliff.

  There were lights on downstairs, and he thought he saw Holsapple draw the curtains in an upstairs room. He’d wait until everyone was asleep, then sneak back into the manse and rescue Joey. He checked his new watch. It was a quarter after one. His eyelids were heavy and he was glad to be able to rest, even for a few minutes.

  In the eerie light just before dawn, Ernie woke cold and shivering and mad at himself for falling asleep. Knowing he couldn’t break into the house in broad daylight, he backed away from the cliff. He clambered onto Sassy and retreated back down Black Rock, overwhelmed with a feeling that something bad had happened. He whispered encouragement to Sassy, thankful that she knew the way and could negotiate the precarious trail.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Who’s Who

  IN THE CHICKEN COOP, a hen stared hypnotized at the pocket watch oscillating on its chain. Ernie gently snatched beneath her fanny, then added the egg to his basket, then dangled the timepiece before the next hen. Collecting eggs was much easier with his new watch. In fact, it would’ve been fun if it weren’t for Joey. What am I going to do? If he told Russ, he was sure to get blamed for breaking into the Holsapples’ and they’d ship him back to Chicago, probably before lunch. But the longer he waited, the worse it might get for her. Whatever it was, he had to do something, and soon.

  He entered the barn in a rush, set the basket of eggs in the hay, then grabbed a milking stool and bucket off wall pegs. He was anxious about finishing his chores so he could get back to his room and feed his little creature. He squatted on the stool beneath the big black-and-white cow and tried to remember Russ’ instructions. As hard as he worked, he couldn’t coax even a squirt of milk from the cow’s udder.

  “Look, Beulah,” he said. “This isn’t just for me, you know.”

  The cow turned her head and looked at Ernie.

  “It’s for this little person,” he said while holding his hand eleven inches off the ground. “About so big, and milk is the only thing she wants in the whole world.”

  Beulah mooed and Ernie milked several squirts into his pail. He rubbed the cow’s flank. “That a way, girlie,” he said gratefully.

  Ernie was hustling across the yard with milk and eggs when Russ, standing over a hole near the side of the house, waved him over. “Want to see what I’m doing?”

  Ernie reluctantly joined him and looked down a narrow shaft.

  “This is how we measure the water in a well.” He hoisted a line of insulated wire hand over hand until a depth gauge came to the surface. He looked at the dripping meter. Ernie could see the worry on his face, but Russ’ voice remained cheerful. “Know any rain dances?”

  “Not really.”

  “Me neither, but I’m ready to learn. I’d try just about anything to get us some rain.”

  “You know, Russ, I should probably put this stuff in the fridge.”

  “Sure, you go ahead.”

  Forcing a smile, Ernie hurried into the house. He put away the milk and eggs, then picked up the kitchen phone and dialed Joey’s number while prepping a breakfast tray. Please be home, please. When Betty answered, he hung up. His stomach churned as he grabbed the tray and hurried down the hall.

  He closed the crib room door with his foot, then set the tray on the bureau and opened the top drawer. His creature stirred awake in the shoebox. They shared a smile. Ernie gave her a shot glass brimming with frothy milk. She drank it. Smiling proudly, he gave her a strawberry. “They’re pretty sweet. I had some on my cereal.”

  While she munched the berry, Ernie ripped off his sneaker and sock, then balanced on one foot so that he could show his spiral birthmark. “It’s like yours,” he said.

  She nodded knowingly as Ernie hopped about on one foot. “Why? What is it?” he asked.

  She spoke in a language Ernie couldn’t understand, except he did hear the word root two times. “Oh, oh, I get it,” he said excitedly. He unhooked the mobile from the crib and pointed to the carving that looked like her. “This is you. Is your name Root?”

  She shook her head, then pointed to herself. “Runnel,” she said in a voice that sounded almost musical, then pointed to a different carving. “Root.”

  “Oh, okay—that’s Root. And you’re Runnel?”

  She nodded.

  “Great! I mean, it’s fantastic!” gushed Ernie. There’s more of them. He returned the mobile to the crib, then twirled it so the figures spun in a circle like a carnival ride. He pointed to himself. “My name is Ernie Banks. Er-nie Banks.”

  Runnel shook her head. In the kitchen, the telephone rang.

  Ernie laughed. “Yes! Er-nie Banks!” He picked his Ernie Banks card off the nightstand and pointed to the boldfaced print. “See? Er…nie…Banks.”

  Runnel jabbered insistently. This time he heard the name Shawn several times.

  “No, that’s him,” Ernie explained, pointing to the wall photo above the crib. “That’s Shawn. I’m Ernie.”

  Adamantly shaking her head, Runnel pointed to the photo and then to Ernie and said “Shawn” both times.

  “Me? No, you don’t understand. Shawn used to live here. I’m just visiting.”

  Runnel reached out and touched the Acorn hidden beneath his shirt. “Shawn Frazier.”

  “Shawn Frazier?” muttered Ernie in astonishment.

  There was a quick knock at the door. Ernie slid the drawer closed a second before Russ entered the room.

  “Ernie?”

  “Yeah?”

  Russ stood on the threshold, visibly upset. Ernie stared as if seeing him for the first time, wondering if this man could possibly, by some miracle, be his father.

  “Betty’s on the phone. She says Sassy came in by herself this morning. She called her folks and Gram said you two weren’t over there at all yesterday. Just what is going on? Where’s Joey?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  A Reckoning

  THE SHERIFF’S CRUISER led the Frazier pickup down Highway 99 at a fast clip. In the cab, Ernie rode wedged between a grim-faced Russ and a distraught Betty Woodruff. She was so mad she wouldn’t even look at him. Before leaving the house, Ernie had tried to explain what happened. He told Russ how he and Joey went into the Holsapples’ looking for clues about Shawn Frazier, and how they got separated, and why he thought the Holsapples were up to no good, and why he was sure Joey was still somewhere inside that creepy house. He left out the part about the little creature he’d rescued and what she’d told him.

  As the cars turned up the Holsapple driveway, Ernie could feel Russ’ eyes on him, but he stared straight ahead. In the courtyard, they parked beside the sheriff’s cruiser. Ernie stepped tentatively from the pickup. Holsapple’s oil riggers were loitering by the garage, staring with crossed arms and mean faces.

  “Morning, boys,” greeted the sheriff. “You all workin’ hard or hardly workin’?”

  Nobody answered. One Eye, jangling the ring of keys on his belt, spit a big wad of tobacco. Ernie, feeling like the whole gang was staring at him, stood rooted to the ground. Russ took his arm and nudged him along.

  The adults escorted Ernie under the thorny vines of the walkway’s canopy, then between the winged Chimeras at the end of the portico. Sheriff Dashin rapped the front door’s iron knocker. They waited in silence for what seemed like forever. Russ squeezed his shoulder. “It’s all right, Ernie. Just tell the truth.”

  Finally the door opened and Dicky Cobb greeted them with a phony smile. “Good morning, sheriff, Russ, Betty.”

  “And a good morning to you, Dicky,” answered the sheriff cheerfully. “Lordy, what happened to that leg?”

  Ernie’s gaze fixed on the foreman’s right leg encased in a plaster cast.

  “Got her jammed out in the rigs,” Cobb said with a smile. “Ain’t
hardly scratched.”

  “Not to worry, time is the healer, yes, sir,” said the sheriff.

  “Come on in,” he said. “Mr. Holsapple will be right down.”

  The visitors shuffled inside the vestibule. Ernie was the only one to see Cobb’s welcoming smile change to a threatening leer. The foreman ushered them into the main hallway, where a swooping staircase led to the second floor. Harvey Holsapple was coming down the stairs with an obedient black wolfhound on either side. “Good morning, all,” he said with a good-natured smile.

  “Morning, Harv,” said Dashin as he proudly presented Holsapple’s keys in their gold-embossed leather case. “Got the keys. Kid stole ’em out of your glove box the other day.”

  The old man accepted the keys and slipped them into his pocket. “What a shame we should have to meet under such difficult circumstances. Can I get anyone anything?”

  “No, thanks,” said the sheriff. “We don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

  “Angus just put on a fresh pot,” offered Harvey.

  “Appreciate it, cream and sugar then. I like it sweet.”

  “Anyone else?”

  Russ and Betty muttered “No, thanks” as the group moved down the hall. Ernie noted the rooms still looked strange, though they weren’t nearly as scary in the light of day. There was no sign of the hog carcass or the black slime, and the blood trail had been washed away.

  In the kitchen, all eyes were on Ernie as he studied four closed doors. He recognized the one to the cellar and the one to the garage. Of the two remaining, he wasn’t positive but he had a feeling it was the door on the right. He remembered the sound of Joey’s voice as they were calling back and forth. Harvey Holsapple waited impassively, the wolfhounds well behaved at his heel. Dicky Cobb and the twins hovered like flies on a wall. Finally Ernie pointed. “That one.”

  “You sure? You sure Joey went through that door right there?” asked the skeptical sheriff.

  Ernie nodded.

  When Holsapple grunted, Cobb limped over to open the door. Dashin waddled behind to scan the well-ordered pantry. The jars of snakes, centipedes, and eyeballs had been taken away. Even the smell had been scrubbed clean.

  Dashin smirked. “And exactly where were you at this point?”

  Ernie pointed to the other side of the kitchen. “Behind that door.”

  “I thought you said you could see her. If you’re behind that door, you must have X-ray vision.”

  Ernie smoldered. He knew it didn’t look good and the sheriff was making it worse.

  “I know where she was, I heard her.”

  “Oh really,” said Dashin, rolling his eyes. “Okay, then what?”

  “I went down to the cellar,” Ernie said, then with a look to Holsapple, “all the way down.”

  The sheriff smugly crossed his arms. “Then in fact, she could have departed the house at that time and left you to your own devices, isn’t that possible?”

  Ernie stared unblinking. “No.”

  “So you say,” Dashin chided. “Mr. Holsapple—you got time to finish the nickel tour?”

  Holsapple chuckled. “Sorry, Tom, the cellar’s going to cost you a quarter.”

  The sheriff clapped a hand on Ernie’s shoulder. “All right, kid, lead the way.”

  Holsapple opened the cellar door and allowed everyone to pass—everyone except Angus and Axel. He whispered something and they hurried away.

  The search party descended the well-lit stairway. The tribal masks were still on the walls but, like the rest of the house, didn’t seem half as scary as the night before.

  In the cellar, all eyes were again on Ernie. Crouching by the storage bin, he noticed that the skull lock had been replaced with a simple latch. He glanced at Holsapple as if the old crooked man might stop him, almost wishing he would.

  “Well, what is it, boy?” demanded the sheriff. “What happened then?”

  “I opened this,” Ernie said, then opened the lid. He couldn’t believe it. The iron ladder down to the oval chamber was gone. It was just a bin full of potatoes. He looked up at the adults pressing around him. They’d tricked him. He could see it in Holsapple’s mocking eyes and Dicky Cobb’s crooked smile.

  Desperate, Ernie burrowed into the bin, tossing potatoes every which way, digging to uncover the ladder. Russ hauled him to his feet, restraining him.

  “Oh my God,” moaned Betty, overwhelmed.

  “No,” cried Ernie. “It’s underneath! They hid it! It was like a spaceship or something. It’s down there. It was…”

  “That’s enough, Ernie,” cautioned Russ.

  “But, Russ…”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” he said, and he meant it.

  Ernie glared at Holsapple. “If you hurt her, I swear I’ll…”

  Dicky Cobb stepped forward to grab him, but Russ stepped between them, standing nose to nose with the foreman. “We’re sorry, Harvey,” said Russ. “We won’t be taking any more of your time.”

  “You got that right,” sneered Cobb.

  Holsapple stooped down to latch the bin closed. “Tall fences do good neighbors make.”

  “How true, how true,” chimed the sheriff.

  To Ernie, it seemed like the stone Chimeras were sneering at him as the adults conferred by the massive front door.

  “I’m sure these folks appreciate you not pressing charges,” said Sheriff Dashin. “Breaking and entering is a very serious crime.”

  Holsapple shrugged graciously. “I’ll have my boys check out the fields. It’s possible she got into one of the old mine shafts.”

  “Real good, and I’ll keep you posted on any developments on our side,” said the sheriff.

  “Please do. We’ll all sleep a little better when Joey’s back home,” reassured Holsapple.

  Putting an arm around Betty, Russ ushered Ernie along the portico. The sheriff caught up with them by the pickup. “This kid really owes Mr. Holsapple an apology. And no offense, Russ, if he was mine, I’d have tanned his rear good, two or three times by now.”

  “Well, he’s not yours,” snapped Russ.

  Betty, her temper flaring, added sharply, “And my little girl is still missing, so why don’t you just do your job for once in your life.”

  “Slow down, Betty, just slow down,” said the sheriff. “We’ll find Joey. I got no doubt.”

  “No you won’t!” fired Ernie.

  The sheriff grabbed the boy’s arm. “I swear, if you don’t shut your mouth pronto, I’m going to do it for you.”

  “I don’t think so, Tom,” warned Russ.

  Ernie yanked his arm away and looked the sheriff in the eye. “Those people are lying—Joey’s a prisoner somewhere inside that house!”

  “Ernie Banks!”

  Everyone turned to see Holsapple standing in the portico waving the Cubs cap. “You forgot your cap!”

  Unnerved, Ernie looked to Russ.

  “Go ahead, get it.”

  As Ernie reluctantly retraced his steps, Sheriff Dashin settled his wide girth behind the wheel of his cruiser. “Listen, folks—if you ever get the truth out of that kid, you know where to find me.”

  A somber Russ and Betty watched him motor down the driveway.

  Harvey Holsapple waited between the granite Chimeras as Ernie slowly approached along the portico. He stopped just short of the old crooked man. He was out of Russ’ sight and didn’t want to get any closer. Dicky Cobb leered from the threshold.

  “Come here, son,” Holsapple said, motioning with his hand. “You don’t need to be afraid. I got your cap right here.”

  Ernie inched forward. In a flash, Holsapple hooked him by the neck with his cane, yanked him close, and snapped the cap home, forcing it snug on Ernie’s head. “We know who you are,” he hissed.

  Coming to life, the stone Chimeras snorted and flapped their wings, blasting air that would have knocked him down but for Holsapple’s iron grip. The old man blew his terrible breath on Ernie’s face and snarled, “Welcome home…
Shawn Frazier.”

  Ernie trembled as Holsapple unbuttoned his shirt, only to find scabbed claw marks on a bare chest. The Crystal Acorn was missing. When the old man saw that he was no longer wearing the Acorn, he smacked Ernie’s chest and snarled angrily as thorns sprouted from his tongue, warts bubbled on his forehead, and his eyes boiled. But only for an instant. The gnarled old man spun him on his heels and whispered into his ear, “Joey tasted good.”

  The Chimeras snapped their dragon tails against his back, knocking him off his feet. He sprawled in the gravel, scraping his hands. His back throbbed, and the skin on one leg felt hot. He looked down and saw a patch of black slime on his jeans. Trying to ignore the burn, he jumped up and sprinted under the portico to the courtyard. Where did that come from? Holsapple?

  Russ was waiting with an open door, but Ernie hopped instead into the bed of the pickup.

  “Come on, Ernie. Sit with us,” offered Russ.

  Afraid his voice would break if he tried to speak, Ernie waved off the invitation.

  “Let him be,” snapped Betty.

  Ernie wanted to tell Russ that Holsapple was some kind of terrible monster, but he knew he wouldn’t believe him. Nobody would. If he tried to tell what happened, they’d think he was crazy. Poor Joey. He’d doubted everything she’d said about the Holsapples, but it turned out she was right. Dead right

  The pickup departed down the Holsapple driveway. Ernie stood on the flatbed, gripping the cab roof. He wiped away tears that leaked from the corners of his eyes, then reached into his sock and pulled out the Crystal Acorn. At least he’d managed to hide it and keep it out of Holsapple’s hands. But why does that wicked old man, or whatever he is, want it?

  Ernie could feel the manse watching him from behind as he slipped the Acorn back around his neck and stuffed it under his shirt. He refused to turn around. He didn’t want to see that evil house ever again.