The Seven Sequels bundle

by Orca Various

  Bump. Bump. It feels like the car is running over a bunch of holes. Bump bump bump.

  And then the world ends with a—

  BANG!

  Thats what it sounds like.

  BANG!

  Something is happening in front of me. Something loud—like firecrackers or bombs. The car starts to spin. 1 time around. 2 times. Are the bombs part of the Pee Yan Vee Yah plan? There is a down and an up as well as a round and round. I feel like I am on a ride at Wonderland only I cant see anything and I dont have a seat belt on. I keep bumping into parts of the trunk.

  BANG!

  Another loud something happens beside me and we start spinning the other way. Noises are coming from all over. Horns and brake squeals and yells. Loud yells. Weird ones that dont even sound human. Whatevers going on is big and bad and lasts a long time. If this was a TV show itd be in slow motion. And its all in the dark.

  I remember the word I was trying to think of befor. Telemarketer. Thats the word.

  Time keeps going by.

  The car stops spinning. Im pressed against the side of the trunk. The car is tilted with my side lower than the other. I wait. I have no idea what to expect. Its still noisy outside—like Im inside a thunderstorm. And then comes the loudest thunder clap of all—the one where the storm is rite over head and the thunder and the litening come together.

  CRACK!!

  It happens rite at my feet. I shoot forward and hit my sholder on something. The trunk pops wide open. Its cold. I take a breath and shake my head to clear it. Im looking up. I can see a moon and some street lites and the front of a station wagon that bumped into us from behind and popped the trunk.

  Do something.

  I have to do something.

  My brain is slow—I mean its always slow but it is even slower now. I hear a scream. And another. And then a lot of bellowing.

  Do something.

  Escape! Rite. This is my chance. I sit up and the world spins. I have to shake my head again. Come on Bunny.

  I start to crawl out. I have my hand on the edge of the trunk when I take a look around and realize how very strange the hole thing is.

  I KNOW SOME OF THE TRUTH RITE AWAY.

  I find some out later. And some of it I still dont know. Heres what I see from the trunk of Joes car.

  We are in a field of ice and snow. Not a farm field—a city kind. We are in Toronto. The white gates of the CNE are rite over there. I can see them. Theres a road on my left and then an other field with a baseball diamond and then Lake Ontario witch is big and dark and empty. On my rite is a street going up a hill and a big overpass. The grounds uneven and thats why we are tilted. The station wagon that popped the trunk is near by. It bounced back and there is a big white balloon in the front seat. All around me are cows.

  Yes thats what I said.

  The biggest thing in the field is a huge truck that carries cows. Used to I mean. You know the kind of truck—it has holes in the sides for the cows to breath. Or the pigs or whatever animal. This truck was carrying cows and now it is lying half on its side in the middle of the field with the back doors open. The cows are out. Some of them are rite there. I dont think Ive ever been this close to cows befor. You know what—they are big. These are anyway. They are black and white and as tall as the car. They have horns and round wet eyes. There breath comes out in clouds around there heads.

  Im surprised by the axident—the bangs and the spinning around—and Im surprised to find myself in a place I know like the CNE but I am even more surprised by the cows. I dont know what I expect when the trunk pops up but not this. I find out later that the cow truck hit a patch of ice and skidded across 2 lanes and into the icy field. Our car and the station wagon were beside the truck and it carried us along. Nobody was hurt in the crash itself—all the injuries happen now.

  Joe and Vi and Lubor are all ready out of the car. They see me. Lubor moves toward the trunk. He has a phone in his hand and a grim nasty look on his face.

  Wheres AT now? he says into the phone.

  Do something I think. I will have to be fast if I want to get away.

  Watch out! yells Joe. These cows are spooked.

  What do you mean? says Lubor. They are just cows.

  No no says Joe. I live in the country and I have seen—

  Lubor tries to push a cow out of the way. Something happens that I can not see and he goes down screaming. Vi drops to her nees to help him and the cow kicks her. I see this. Vi is beside the cow and the animal lifts its leg side ways and kicks Vi in the neck. Really—a side ways kick. Vi goes sprawly on the ice beside Lubor whose leg is bent in a way that makes me sick to look at. The cow lifts her head and bellows loud and long. Its a cow noise but it sounds like a truck going up hill. She starts to run. The other cows follow her—big and slippy sloppy and crazy mad.

  I watch Vi because I want to know if she is alive. She is. She moves her head and then puts it back down on the ice again.

  The cows slide around the field like birds flying this way and then that way.

  The driver of the station wagon is a man in a suit and tie and nice coat and gloves. He looks like hes just come from the bank. When he sees the cows he climbs back inside the car with the big white balloon in the front seat.

  Do something.

  I step down from the trunk onto the ice and take a wobbly stride on my skates—and theres Joe with his super strong hand on my arm. He’s got me again. I try to pull away but Joe hangs on.

  I am not letting you go he says.

  Why?

  He doesnt anser.

  Why? I say louder.

  Im not asking about letting go. I want to know why they are doing this. Why kid nap me and chase me around? What does it matter about where Grampa put the anthem? What does it matter if Spencer finds it? Whats it all about?

  Joe understands. He nods.

  I love my country he says.

  What? Canada?

  He shakes his head.

  Pee Yan Vee Yah is my real home country he says—and it is not free. I would do anything to free it. Lubor and Vi feel the same way. And Dusan. We live in North America now but we love Pee Yan Vee Yah.

  But you work for us—for Canada, I say. Your a kind of police man. You have to serve and protect like it says on the cars.

  Do you care about your country Bunny? he asks. What if Canada was in chains? Wuldnt you work to make it free?

  Chains? I say.

  Thats what the SPCA is about, he says.

  At the customs place he dint know about the SPCA but now he does. He tells me what the letters stand for—something about Saving Pee Yan Vee Yah and a counter army. I dont get it. I dont get any of this.

  No but—chains? I say.

  Wuldnt you want the world to know your story? he asks. Wuldnt you want Aiden Tween to sing your national anthem? That is happening at city hall. That is why you must speak to your brother he says.

  His face is long and his eyes are dark and hooded. It is totally weerd—he is walking me across a field of escaped cows talking about Aiden Tween and a counter army and chains around a place I never herd of until this week. Behind us Vi and Lubor are lying on the ice. Maybe they love Pee Yan Vee Yah as much as Joe does. Maybe Joe is hurt rite now. Maybe he was hit on the head and is a bit crazy.

  Cows eh? Didnt I say they were mean?

  The sky over the lake xplodes. Theres a ball of red and gold stars. Fireworks. It must be New Years. Joe is surprised enuff to look up and stumble and lose his balance. I take my chance and push. He stumbles some more. I push again and he falls to the ground.

  The field has lousy ice but skating is still faster than walking. I take off. The cows are ahead of me and I go around them. Joe scrambles to his feet and tries to cut me off but he skids into a cow and she kicks him in the side. He falls. The cows gallop away.

  A blu and green lite hangs in the sky and then a brite white comet type thing fizzles up and dies. I hear a clap of thunder. A shower of yellowy stars rains on us.
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  Joe is down. Vi and Lubor are still down. There is nobody moving around but me and the cows. They are clumped together by the big truck. I skate to the edge of the field near the CNE gates and hop onto the road. I know what to do now. I get out the phone and call a number from memory.

  HI THANKS FOR CALLING OTOOLE CENTRAL.

  At the sound of the tone leave a message for Deb Jerry Bunny or Spencer and well get back to you Scouts honor. And dont forget to wonder whats so crazy about peace love and understanding.

  Dads voice. I hang up and call the other number I know. Jade ansers rite away. It sounds like there is a party in the background. When I say who I am the party sounds go away and it is just Jades voice.

  Where are you Bunny? I dont know this phone number.

  I explain what is going on—some of it. And where I am and what I want. Jade promises to help.

  I know somebody who can get there in 10 minits. Look for a taxi.

  I dont have any money for a taxi I say.

  Dont worry about that—Herb will help anyone from the possy says Jade.

  The firework show is finishing up. Spears of gold shoot up to the sky. Balls of fire explode into blu and green and red and orange flower petals that float down and disappear while claps and barks echo and fade. In the distance I hear the first of the sirens. The police are coming.

  HERB DOESNT BELIEVE WHO I AM RITE AWAY

  but when I unzip my coat and pull up my shirt sleeve to show him my 15 Street tatoo he lets me into the cab.

  Man you dont look like you belong he says.

  I know.

  Jade says to come down to the Princes Gates and pick up 1 of the possy I am not looking for you he says.

  I know.

  Herb drives off without any more questions. He doesnt ask about the cows or the sirens or anything. If I am in the possy I am okay. For the first time in days I feel power full. The hole possy is behind me —Jade and Cobra and Scratch and Snocone and X-Ray and now Herb. His hair stands up like black fingers on his head. He wears driving gloves that fit tite. The cab smells spicy. We go along the lake and then up a hill into the city. When we meet the ambulances Herb pulls over to let them past. He pulls over again when we meet the police cars and the fire truck. I ask Herb how he is doing tonite and he says fine.

  Spencer is not at city hall. The concert is over and the big square is almost empty. Its late and outside and the middle of winter. There is a stage off to the side and posters of Aiden Tween are flapping in the wind. Even from a distance I can see the capital letters. AT. The clock in the tall tower across the street bongs the time. 1 bong—1 oclock.

  I dont know what to do so I go back to the cab witch is waiting by the curb. Herb reaches to the seat beside him and hands me a bag.

  This is for you he says. Jade told me youd need them.

  What? I say.

  There my brothers he says. He wore them last year but hes 2 big for them now.

  In the bag theres a pair of running shoes.

  Jade said to get you a pair of shoes and go pick you up says Herb.

  Wow I say.

  Thats all. Wow. I dont know what else to say. Its thank you and you didnt have to and holy crap all at once. Herb waves it away.

  My feet are recked. Wrecked. Ive been wearing rental skates all week. Now Im back where I rented them. I left my boots under a bench—theyll be long gone. I want to put on the runners—but not quite yet.

  Wait another minit I tell Herb. This rink is still open. Can you wait a minit?

  Your 15 he says. I do what you tell me. You want me to wait I wait. You want to drive to Vancoover I do that.

  What?

  Take a few days but I can do it.

  Hes serious.

  OK then give me a minit I say.

  I hop my way over to the rink and do a lap. Push. Glide. Push. The ice is pretty good but my skates are so dull I slip a lot. I feel like crying but I cant do it. My chest heaves in and out but what comes out is a laff. Maybe I am 2 tired to cry and when you cant cry you laff insted. Its been a long week.

  The Aiden Tween song playing on the sound system stops in the middle. Hey you dancing in the corner by yourself dont look so sad its not so—the lites go out 1 by 1. Now the rink is in darkness. An old guy comes out of the rental place. I go over and hand him my skates. He takes them and looks at them a long time.

  These he says. Number 13.

  Yeah.

  These been gone for days he says. Where you find them?

  On my feet.

  What?

  I turn away.

  Wait a minit he says. But I am already gone in my new runners witch fit ok. A little long maybe but way better than socks. And maybe I will grow into them.

  HERB IS LISTENING TO THE NEWS ON THE CAR RADIO

  and shaking his head.

  Crazy! he says.

  What is?

  What they say about the accident with all the cows he says.

  We head along Queen Street. I take out the phone I have been using—the 1 from the front porch—and once again it doesnt work. I wonder if it is frozen? I had it in my outside coat pocket again. Maybe that was the problem befor.

  I give Herb my address on Tecumseth. My home address. I can see it in my mind written out on an envelope cause I send a letter home every week. I dont know if anyone is there or not. Would Herb drive me to Creekside now if I asked? Would I ask?

  I recognize all the stores we pass. Traffic is lite.

  Whats that about the accident? I say.

  Herb says something I dont catch xept for the last word.

  Wolf? I say.

  What the truck driver told the police says Herb. Says he saw this wolf run up from the lake and cross the lakeshore road rite in front of him. He jammed on the brakes so he wuldnt run into it. The truck skidded and crashed and the cows got out. Drivers fine but the truck and 2 cars are a mess and 3 people are in hospital. And all because of a wolf.

  I cant help myself. I start laffing again. Is it as easy as that—is Grampa looking after me? Is that how I got home? Cause if its that easy why am I so tired? We turn down our street.

  Herb looks at me like—Whats so funny? But he doesnt ask any questions.

  Theres a lite in an upstares window at my place. I see a shadow for a second and then its gone.

  Herb holds up a box of kleenex he keeps on the dash. I take a few.

  Thanks I say. My voice cracks and I try again. Thanks.

  I wipe away the tears.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A book is a team effort—writer, muse, agent, editorial, sales and marketing, publicity, to say nothing of friends and family and so on. But the Seven series has been a team effort from the writing point of view as well. I am deeply grateful to all my co-authors, certainly Eric Walters for providing the initial spark, but also and especially to Ted Staunton for his great work on our goofy interwoven plots. A lot of the success of the series has been author driven. Guys and Norah, it has been a pleasure to hang out with you across Canada this past year, and I look forward to doing it again. And let’s not forget the Orca publishing team—Andrew, Sarah, Dayle and all the others who didn’t buy me dinner, who didn’t check my spelling eleven million times and whose shower I did not break. Thank you.

  RICHARD SCRIMGER is the award-winning author of twenty books for children and adults. His middle-school novel The Nose from Jupiter won the Mr. Christie’s Award, and his books have appeared on the Globe and Mail’s and ALA’s notable-books lists. His books have been translated into almost a dozen languages (actually, eleven). The father of four, Richard is used to being laughed at. The Wolf and Me is the sequel to Ink Me, Richard’s novel in Seven (the series).

  NORAH McCLINTOCK

  FROM

  THE DEAD

  O R C A B O O K P U B L I S H E R S

  To A.O. and B.R., for the gift of time.

  EXTRAS

  TO SEE ALL OF THE COUSIN’S TRAVELS CHECK OUT THIS ONLINE MAP.

  TOO SEE HOW ALL OF
THE COUSINS ARE CONNECTED, CHECK OUT THIS FAMILY TREE.

  ONE

  If anyone had told me I’d be standing, by choice, ankle-deep in snow and ice in a crummy neighborhood in Detroit four nights after Christmas, I would have said they were crazy. First of all, I don’t know a single person in Detroit. Second, who in their right mind would choose Detroit as a destination, especially in winter? Third, who would choose to land in a neighborhood that, as far as I can see—which isn’t far because there are no streetlights—is on the downward slope to oblivion? Finally, who in his right mind would choose to subject himself to cold, dreary, depressed Detroit because of something that happened half a century ago and that no one—well, almost no one—remembered or even cared about?

  But here I am, and it’s all my cousin Adam’s fault. I’ll get to that.

  Right now I’m standing across the street from the house—the one I have the address for, the one that may (or may not) be the key to this whole thing. An old man and a dog are shuffling around a corner out of sight. I’m shivering in my jacket and a marked-down red-and-white Santa-type tuque that ordinarily would make me feel as conspicuous as an alligator in a wading pool. But the house I’m looking at, two stories, paint peeling off its clapboard siding, porch sagging, wooden steps barely visible beneath snow and ice, is the only lit-up place on the whole block. That’s because it’s also the only non-abandoned, non-condemned place on the block. It’s weird. I’m in the heart of a city. If this was Vancouver or Toronto, there would be houses on either side of the one I’m looking at, and houses next to them too, all the way down the block and around the corner. Same thing across the street. That’s what you expect in an urban neighborhood. But where I am right now is what used to be an urban neighborhood. The sidewalks are still here, although I bet they’re all cracked and broken under the thick layer of hard-packed snow, which no one has bothered to clear. The lampposts are still standing, but, as I said, the lights aren’t on. Most of the fixtures don’t even have bulbs in them. Intact bulbs, I mean. There’s a fire hydrant halfway down the block. I see its top peeking out of a heap of snow. There’s also a big metal container that looks like a mailbox, but it’s lying on its side and has been kicked so many times that there’s hardly a flat surface left. The only way I can see any of this is because there’s a clear sky overhead, and without the usual ambient light of a big city, a zillion stars are visible, along with a wedge of moon.