“We can’t make a pass at all the volcanoes and explore them, though. We’d never get out of this damn valley, and I don’t know how much more of this sulfur I can inhale,” said Kavarine.
“No, no, we can’t,” said Eaglewing.
“I can stay.” All four adepts turned to the ancient blue creature.
“What?” Eaglewing blinked. “That’s insane!”
“Is it? I can stay here, find the volcano with the deepest roots, maybe find the right kind of crystals. If I find them, I can try to use them to create our own Red Stone. We need some advantage over Kronshar. As it stands now, we have the advantage of surprise, but none of us know if we can pass the sentinels without being discovered. We have to attempt something. We have two sets of jump cloths. I can take one and jump to you.”
“It’s a good plan,” said Naranthor.
Eaglewing shook his head. “The next thing you’re going to say is that you’ll need to keep a Stone so that you can—”
Niritan leveled his yellow gaze at Eaglewing.
“No, no, this is a terrible idea.”
Lightningbolt stepped toward them. “Niritan, we would be going into battle with Kronshar with only three Stones. We’re already shorthanded with four.”
“I will return before that moment. You must call to me when you need me, and I shall jump to you.”
“We need all the advantage we can muster before we arrive at Khazim. Niritan should go,” said Naranthor.
Eaglewing collapsed, sitting against the giant bolder. “I hate this idea.” He stared out into the deepening shadows at the bottom of the valley, watching the glow from the edges of the rifts and the baby volcanoes.
“Do you have any other ideas?”
“No. But, we lose a Stone, we lose one of our escape paths, and we lose the strongest wizard we have on the off-chance that you can find the right type of crystal, on the off-chance that you can then create something from it, if you happen to find it. How does that sound like a good idea? Niritan, this place has probably changed so much you could wander it for the rest of your long life, and you’d still never find your one volcano, with the right crystals and the right depth and the right whatever else it is that you need.”
The Edenkiri nodded. “True. True.”
Lightningbolt broke the intervening silence. “I also think he should go.”
Eaglewing stared at his brother, half turning his head. “You do?”
“Yes. This entire enterprise is one step away from failure. If he can craft something that could cancel the Red Stone’s power—”
“And if he can’t?”
“Then how are we worse off?”
“If he dies?”
The words hung on the poisoned air.
“It is a risk we all take,” Lightningbolt said at length.
Eaglewing sighed.
Naranthor said, “You can start tomorrow, Niritan.”
“Actually, if we can divide the supplies, I will leave tonight and get an early start. As you noted, I need all the time I can get.”
“Tonight?”
“I see better in the dark than all of you,” Niritan said.
Eaglewing shook his head and threw his saddlebag on the ground. He sat next to it and began silently sorting supplies in the acrid half-light of the distant volcanoes.
The days grew dangerously short. Jeremy ran to his room, threw his book bag to the floor, and changed into old jeans and shoes. He strapped the Rambo knife to his belt and sprinted back outside. The shadows were already long beneath the trees. In the lot across the street, Loren had organized a football game with himself as quarterback. He yelled, “One, Twenty-Two, Green, hut hut!”
Jeremy skirted the game, wanting to run to the Tree. The sounds of the football game faded as he ran deeper into the bike trails. In a moment, he was at the pond, enjoying the feeling of wind in his hair, his feet against the packed clay. A new ditch slashed across the trail from the pond to the Swamp Creek. Jeremy jumped it and skidded to a stop. He walked back to the little trench, hands balling into fists. He took his knife out of its scabbard and started using it to loosen the packed dirt on either side, working to fill it in, stabbing at the ground as though it were to blame. Who would do this? Why?
“Touchdown!” came a shout through the trees.
Jeremy looked toward the bike trails and the football game he could not see. He pulled the knife out of the ground, shoved it in the scabbard, and stormed down the trail. He stomped onto the empty lot as they finished a play. Before reason could kick in, he yelled, “Hey!”
Motion stopped. Six pairs of wide eyes stared at him.
Jeremy’s heart stalled, his stomach quaked, and his knees shook. What was he doing? He should run. But it was too late now. He yelled again. “Hey!” He took a few steps toward them. “Which one of you has been digging ditches to drain the pond?”
They looked from one to the other, to him, questions in their eyes. Finally, Loren said, “What are you talking about, little man?”
“Someone is digging trenches to drain the pond in Twin Hills. Which one of you is doing it? I don’t think you should do it. If that pond drains…” Travis’ bald head and weak smile flashed through his mind. Silence hung in the air like a fragile golden thread. They waited for him to finish. Finally, he blurted, “Then whatever is in that water that made Travis sick will spread.”
Fortunately, no one laughed.
Lee shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down.
Sy cocked his head sideways. “What are you talking about, Jeremy?”
“Show us.” Loren motioned toward Twin Hills.
Jeremy swallowed. Really? “All right, come on.”
He cut through the bike trails as they followed. His hands shook, but he tried to keep them from noticing it. They walked without noise. Jeremy worried they would turn back, but each time he glanced over his shoulder, they were still there, marching behind him in silence. At the pond, he stepped over the half-filled trench and pointed at it. “Look at this.” Jeremy then went a little further away and pointed at the dam he had built a week ago. “And look at this. This was the first one I found, and I dammed it up. Who’s doing this?”
Loren nudged the finished dam with his foot. “That’s a good dam.”
“Who’s doing this? You need to stop. You need to stop it right now.” The boys stood in a wide circle, hands shoved into the pockets of their jeans.
Everyone looked at the dirt where Jeremy had been stabbing it.
“He’s right.” Loren said. “Who is doing this? Come on, fess up.”
No one spoke. Loren started calling people out. “Lee?”
“No, man, I haven’t even been back here since… since Travis died. My mom won’t let me back here anymore.”
“Johnny?”
Johnny held up his freckled hands. “No way, man. Why would anyone do this?”
“Marcus?”
He shook his head.
“Sy?”
Sy fixed his brother a sideways stare. “‘Course not.”
“Roland?”
“No, man. I’d make a trail, but I wouldn’t do this. It’s too much work, and there’s no point,” Roland said.
Loren nodded toward the last boy, someone Jeremy had never seen before. “I know Cory’s not, ‘cause he’s my cousin and lives in Port Neches. So,” Loren fixed his eyes on Jeremy, “we aren’t doing it.”
Jeremy stared up at him, planting his feet wide apart, ready to fight. “Well, who else comes back here but us?”
Loren thought a moment, then his eyes shone. “I don’t know. But we’re gonna find out. Each of us will take a day after school. Watch who comes in and leaves from here.”
“That’s stupid. I told you my mom won’t let me come back here
anymore,” said Lee.
“You don’t have to come back here to watch who comes out, dumb-butt. Jeremy, you watch tomorrow, I’ll do Wednesday, Sy, you’re Thursday, Roland, you’re Friday.”
“We have a football game Friday, man.”
“Right.”
“I’ll watch Friday,” said Marcus.
“All right. We’ll all watch over the weekend and Lee, you’ll take Monday. Y’all come tell me if you see anyone you don’t know coming back here, okay?”
Nods went around the circle.
“Let’s fill this in and go finish our game.”
Seven pairs of hands descended on the trench with sticks. In no time, the trench had disappeared and the trail looked as intact as it had always been. As they walked back to the field, Loren clapped Jeremy on the shoulder blade. Jeremy jumped, flinching. “Good job, little man. Do you want to play some football with us?”
Loren asked him to play? Jeremy blinked, but kept the grin off his face. “Sure.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The tractor appeared Wednesday. Jeremy saw it from the bus and didn’t even go inside to drop off his bag. He ran out to Twin Hills, Sy following. The giant hunk of blue metal was parked near the entrance to the bike trails, just off the street. Attached to the end of the beast was a giant mower on wheels the size of a lowboy trailer. The thing sat there resolute and cold, like a statue that smelled of fresh grease.
“What is it for?”
Jeremy pointed at a wide swath of undergrowth between two trees that had been reduced to sawdust. “That.”
Sy blinked. “What?” He looked from the small clear cut to Jeremy and back. “Are they going to cut it all down?”
“I don’t know. Let’s go check on the pond.”
They sprinted through the mostly-intact bike trails. “Wait!” Jeremy’s arm shot out, catching Sy by the chest.
“Ugh,” Sy coughed. “What was that for?”
“Footprints!”
Large boot prints had stomped around their homemade dams on the half-filled-in trenches.
“There are two sets.” Simon pointed at them. “Look at the tread. It’s different.” Simon put his hands on his hips. “Well, I don’t see any new trenches.”
“No, but they certainly know that we’re on to them now.”
“Yeah, but they don’t know who we are.”
That was true, but not much consolation.
Returning to the bike trails, they passed the tractor again. “Let’s go tell Loren.“
Jeremy followed Simon to his house. It was about the same size as Jeremy’s, and the smell of roast beef hung in the air. Sy called to his mom, dropped his backpack, and went into the living room where Loren was in the middle of a game of Space Invaders. He glanced up at them. “Hey, Sy. Hey, Jeremy.”
“There’s a tractor in Twin Hills and it’s cutting down the trees near the bike trails,” Sy said.
Loren’s head jerked back to them. “What?” A Space Invader sizzled Loren’s ship. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
“Impossible. I didn’t see anything today.”
“Come look.”
Loren looked back at the game for a second, sighed, switched off the Atari, and went to find his shoes. When he had them, they led him out to the tractor. He cussed a little, then walked around it with his hands in his back pockets.
“Well,” he said at last, “I’m going to let it get a little darker before I take care of this.”
“What are you gonna do?” Jeremy whispered.
“What?”
“What are you gonna do?” Jeremy repeated, full volume.
Loren’s eyes narrowed, looking at Jeremy like he was an idiot. “I’m going to make damn sure that this piece of shit tractor doesn’t start tomorrow. That’s what I’m gonna do.”
“What if they catch you?”
“Ain’t nobody gonna catch me unless you tell them about it. You gonna tell somebody about it?”
“No.”
“Good. Did they dig any more trenches?”
“No,” said Sy.
A piercing shooo-wheet whistle cut through the cool air. “That’s my dad. I gotta go,” said Jeremy.
“K, don’t worry about this tractor. I’ll take care of it.”
Whatever Loren did to the tractor worked. The giant blue beast did not move from its spot until Friday, when it disappeared. Jeremy’s dreams were filled with the grim faces of the men that owned the tractor chasing him through Twin Hills, bent on catching him for what Loren had done. Saturday afternoon, Jeremy convinced Daniel to patrol through Twin Hills with him. A storm gathered its strength in the dark sky above them. The temperature dropped with each gust of wind, pushing the smell of burnt ozone before it.
Daniel followed Jeremy, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the wind. “Can we play now?”
Jeremy shivered through his coat. “First we have to make sure they didn’t start any new trenches. I’m glad they didn’t bring that tractor back.”
The pond was undisturbed. “There aren’t any trenches,” Daniel mumbled from inside his coat. The wind whistled through the trees. “Can we go now?”
“We need to check the back side of the pond. They may have dug a trench there because no one’s looking back there.”
“Jeremy! They’d have to dig through the tar pit. Come on, it’s cold.”
Big droplets of rain dappled the surface of the pond, disturbing the eternal competition of algae and rainbow oil slicks for space atop the black water. Jeremy looked up, letting the giant drops splash cold against his face. Water would help keep the pond full, and if it rained enough…
He smiled.
“It’s starting to rain. We should go.”
“It’s beautiful!” Jeremy extended his arms, spun about in place. The rain felt like icy needles.
“You’re crazy, and there aren’t any trenches. Let’s go back to your house.”
“You don’t understand. They won’t be able to bring the tractor back if it’s too muddy, it will get stuck. This is awesome!”
Daniel sighed, staring at Jeremy from the top of his eyes as the oversized drops exploded into the pond. Thunder exploded overhead, making both of them jump. Rain swept toward them in a gray curtain from the opposite side of the pond.
“Run!”
Chapter Twenty-Six
A week later, the blue tractor reappeared alongside a larger green one. Jeremy found Simon after school working with a shovel to fill in a trench three feet across and two feet deep. Water still leaked through the massive earthen bulwark that Sy was building. Jeremy went to the Trash Clearing and returned with a piece of a washing machine.
Jeremy tried hammering that into the ground behind the bulwark, and quickly succeeded in breaking his stick over the gnarled edge of the rusted metal panel.
“Here, let me help.” Simon hammered it in with the blade of his shovel. It stopped the flow of water.
“Thanks.” Jeremy pushed more dirt to strengthen the bulwark while Simon filled in the gaping maw of the trench.
“How do they make these things?”
“I don’t know.”
“It doesn’t look like those tractors have been back here. There aren’t any tire tracks in the dirt.”
“Yeah.” Sy leaned on his shovel, glanced up at the sun. “It’s getting dark. You should probably start on the other one.”
“Other one?” Jeremy sighed, shoulders hunching.
“Over there.”
It wasn’t as wide as the first one, but it was deeper. “Ugh. How many are there?”
“Just these two today.”
Jeremy attacked the dirt with his stick, collapsing the sides of the trench and working to fill it in. He i
magined that each bit of dirt he knocked free was one of the people doing this to Twin Hills; every single one of them. The stick cut into his hands, but he kept working. He heard his parents call. He heard Simon’s parents call. Simon joined him and they stabbed at the dirt, collapsing the ditch on itself and jumping on it to tamp it down. Long shadows covered the trail when they had finished. “I gotta go,” said Jeremy.
“Wait!”
“What?”
“We should set a trap for them.”
“Huh?”
“Here.” Sy threw Jeremy a roll of fifteen pound fishing line and went to tie the other end across the narrow opening where the bike trails joined the Twin Hills trail that circled the pond.
“This is just going to catch us, Sy.”
“No, we’ll tell everyone about it. We have to make these people realize they ain’t gonna mess up Twin Hills anymore.”
Jeremy shrugged and pulled his end taut, tying it about six inches off the ground to a young bush. Jeremy’s dad whistled again. “Hurry! I have to go!”
“Wait,” Sy breathed, tying his end.
Sy stashed his shovel behind Roland’s house, and together they bolted across the empty lot and into their respective yards. Jeremy’s dad stood in the driveway with his arms crossed. Sy safely disappeared into his own house while Jeremy withered under his father’s glare. He said, “Where you been? I done called you twice.”
“Sorry, I didn’t hear it.”
“Come on, supper’s cold.”
Through dinner, Simon’s phrase, “Just these two today,” rang in Jeremy’s head. They needed more people. If they had more people, they could set more traps, fill in the trenches faster, and maybe find some way to prevent them from making the trenches in the first place. Daniel was an obvious choice. Would Mira help? It was doubtful, but he could ask her. What of the other boys, the football players? Lee couldn’t be relied on. Marcus lived at the other end of the street, and Jeremy didn’t see him much. Loren and Roland spent most of their time at football practice. Jeremy sighed, pushing green beans around his plate.
“What’s wrong?”
He glanced up at his mom, who was already filling the dishwasher. “Somebody is destroying Twin Hills.”
The Last Stand of Daronwy Page 20
