“It’s the, you know, where they live and people feed them, only this one has that twirly-twisty thing upon it.”
With no clue as to what she was talking about, Lucy’s four mates looked around until they saw it. Indeed, there was a twirly-twisty-birdy-boxy thing. In English, it would be called a barn, with a tall wrought iron weathervane with a large hummingbird on the tip.
“Ah, but of course,” said Noah in his best French accent. “Eet ees the traditional twirly-twisty-birdy-boxy thing. What fools we be, n’est-ce pas?”
“And what, pray tell, does it mean now that we see the twirly-twisty-birdy-boxy thing, Lucy?” asked Faye.
“It means we’ll be at the farm in about five minutes.” True to Lucy’s word, the beehives at the edge of the apple orchard were soon in view.
Not knowing what they might find, the children decided not to patrol the property once they arrived. Instead, they climbed down from their bicycles and walked them over to the drainage ditch. There, they lay their bicycles down behind the beehives, leaving them out of view of the road and out of view of the farmhouse.
The apples from the nearby orchard were still quite small and hard as a rock. Luckily, the leaves on the trees were plentiful, and that helped to hide the children as they sat on a branch and searched for any movement in the schoolhouse.
“I can’t see a thing,” said Jasper, looking through Lucy’s spyglass. “We’ve just got to get over there and get inside.”
“Get inside?” Noah asked.
“Yes,” Jasper said. “We’ll have to figure out a way to do it carefully.”
“What should we say?” asked Lucy.
“We should act normal,” said Wallace.
“Normal?” Noah said. “Normal? You mean we should come in wearing black rubber flippers and black wooly mittens on our noses? Or perhaps a black sombrero and a pair of black stilts?”
“I mean like we’ve just come back after a weekend at home,” said Wallace, not finding this funny.
“I don’t know,” said Jasper. “I think we should be quiet and sneak inside.”
“We don’t want to appear to know anything is wrong in there,” said Wallace. “We don’t want Reginald Roderick Kattaning to do anything.”
“I think you’re both right,” said Lucy. “We should come in quietly, but if someone sees us, act as if we’re coming back as always.”
Approaching the schoolhouse, they couldn’t help but notice how quiet it was. Usually, they could hear Miss Brett humming, or they could smell whatever she was cooking for supper. This time, even the birds and the clouds and the trees seemed to be silent, except for one bird nearby making a strange, eerie cooing sound.
Jasper took some time to reattach the hanging, twisted wires so the telephone would work. He had to untangle the wires before he could reconnect them.
Walking around to the front, the children found the door slightly ajar. Lucy peeked through the crack and put her hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp.
The whole classroom had been ripped apart. The desks seemed to have been systematically shredded into tinder. The test tubes and beakers were crushed. The drawings and sketches were crumpled and torn to bits. Miss Brett’s desk was overturned and broken nearly in half. All her desk drawers, now mostly broken, were pulled out and strewn about the room. It was as if some giant fiend had trampled everything. Even the blackboard was torn from the wall and the slate smashed.
Wallace quietly stepped into the room before anyone could stop him. He lifted a bottle that still contained a clear liquid. He tilted it. There was a crack, but it seemed otherwise to be fine. He placed the bottle on the table. He then bent down and picked up something from the rubble—a small glass vial. This, too, was cracked, except the bottom was broken clean off. Wallace panicked for a moment, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a vial of his own—intact, corked, and sealed. The vial contained a gold, viscous liquid.
It had remained in his pocket since the day Miss Brett helped him clean the blackboard. Wallace now returned it to his pocket, where the vial seemed to fill the emptiness left by his lucky coin.
It would have taken years to recreate his experiment had he lost this vial and the catalyst he had created to combine with it.
Amidst the strewn pieces of the destroyed classroom, it was impossible to tell if anything was missing. There was, however, one lone and blatant exception.
Miss Brett was definitely not in the classroom. She was not among the wreckage. And the door to the kitchen was closed.
Not daring to enter through the kitchen door, the children ran around to the side of the building and hid.
“Why are we hiding?” whispered Lucy.
“Because he might still be in there,” Jasper whispered back.
“He broke our everything,” whimpered Lucy.
“What did he think?” Faye grumbled, pointedly but quietly, her anger simmering. “That we were hiding the aeroplane in our pencil boxes?”
“He was probably looking for the plans,” said Noah, picking up a beaker from the grass. It must have been thrown from the window. He set it on the window ledge. Faye grabbed his hand and pulled it back down.
“I’m going to look and see if the birdwatcher’s truck is there,” said Faye. “Then we’ll know.”
“No, I’ll go,” Jasper said, unconsciously rubbing his legs, sore from the long hard ride.
“You won’t!” cried Lucy, grabbing his hand.
“He is the fastest,” Wallace said, matter-of-factly.
Jasper looked over at Faye. She nodded.
Stealthily, Jasper edged along the wall and disappeared around the corner.
“What do we do now?” Lucy said softly, chewing on her nails and leaning against Faye.
“If we just barge in there,” Wallace said, “we may cause a whole lot more trouble for everyone.”
“Sometimes we have to barge,” said Lucy, who had no other point to argue. New tears burned her cheeks.
Two very long minutes passed.
“I feel like barging,” Lucy said, trying to put a brave smile on her face. Jasper was still not back and she was beginning to fear he had been caught. Lucy’s fingers were bleeding as she continued to gnaw on them.
Wallace placed a hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “We have to think,” he said.
“And think fast,” said Noah. “And think quietly. We can’t be heard.”
“And we can’t be seen,” said Jasper, reappearing suddenly, out of breath from running. “It’s there. The truck. I saw it from the other side. And I could hear him in the schoolhouse. I think Miss Brett is in there with him. We have to stay hidden. We’re no good to Miss Brett if he catches us.”
“We have to get her out of there,” said Faye.
Most of all, they had to find out if Miss Brett was in the clutches of Reginald Roderick Kattaning. Inching along the side of the building, they reached the first window. Lucy peeked in, her nose resting on the window ledge. Nothing. Only the devastated classroom.
Ducking even lower, they crept along to the next window, the one above the kitchen sink. Jasper knelt so that Lucy could climb up on his knee. Faye reached for her pendant but grabbed only its chain. Wallace twirled the vial in his pocket. With Lucy’s head barely above eye-level at the bottom of the window, she could see.
Miss Brett was sitting in a chair facing away from the window.
“I see her,” said Lucy.
“Shhhhh,” hissed Jasper. “If Reginald Roderick Kattaning is in there, he’ll hear you.”
Jasper lowered Lucy back down.
“What do we do?” Lucy said. “Oh, please, let’s do something.”
Deciding it was best to get Miss Brett’s attention so she would know they were there, the children went slinking off to the other side of the building like some ten-footed, five-headed, slithering ferret. When they almost reached the kitchen window on the opposite side, Noah nearly knocked over the bushels of apples piled next to the window. Before he could let out
a yelp, Faye covered his mouth.
They found the kitchen window already open, so they slowly raised their heads and peeked into the room.
They did indeed catch Miss Brett’s attention. But Miss Brett was in no position to do anything. She was not merely sitting in the chair—she was tied to it, wrapped with rope from her shoulders to her ankles. Her hair was a mess and her face... well, her eyes were red and one seemed swollen. She saw them, but frantically shook her head at the children, motioning over her shoulder.
That’s where they found Reginald Roderick Kattaning, rubbing his pointed little beard, looking up toward the ceiling.
In one quick movement, the children ducked, staying below the edge of the windowsill.
“He’s got her captured!” said Lucy in a quiet whisper.
“We’ve got to save her,” Wallace said in a whispered blurt, his voice cracking.
“Oh,” Lucy said, biting her fingers as if Miss Brett’s life depended on it, “I hope she isn’t terribly, terribly hurt. I hope that horrid, horrid man hasn’t terribly, terribly hurt our Miss Brett.” Though she tried not to, Lucy was crying.
“She seems to be all right, Lucy,” said Noah, not believing it himself. “She’s a bit mussed, but she’s all right.”
“Oh, that bad man,” Lucy said. “I want Miss Brett to be all right. I want—”
“We’re all worried, Lucy, not just you,” Jasper said, turning to his sister. “You have got to be quiet. Do you hear me?”
“Jasper—”
“No, Faye, she’s always—” But Jasper caught himself. He didn’t even know what he was going to say. As Lucy’s big brown eyes gazed up at him, pleading, the feeling turned into something else. “I’m sorry, Lucy, I... I just... I suppose—”
“It’s all right, Jasper. You’re scared, too.” Lucy tried to stifle her sobs. She touched the tear that had come to rest at the tip of Jasper’s nose. Jasper took his sister in his arms, this time as much for his own comfort as hers.
“But what do we do?” Lucy chewed on her fingers to fight her tears.
“Shh. We don’t want to make it worse for Miss Brett,” Faye said. “If he thinks someone’s out here, he might make a move.”
They heard a sickening thud. A collective gulp and a collective peek through the window was followed by a collective sigh. Reginald Roderick Kattaning had not hurt Miss Brett but thrown a chair across the room. The chair hit the pile of firewood, knocking over the pan Miss Brett used to make her pancakes. Lucy remembered that first morning.
“We need a secret ingredient,” Lucy said with conviction.
“Like cannonballs,” Noah said, “or an army.”
“Or something to make him stop—freeze, so he can’t do more harm,” said Jasper.
Yes, thought Wallace. They did need a secret ingredient. A secret ingredient would make all the difference. Wallace suddenly stood up, out of the window’s view.
“What are you doing?!” Faye whispered loudly.
“I’ll be right back,” Wallace said. Faye grabbed his arm. “Give me twenty-seven seconds,” he said.
She let go with a knowing nod. “I believe in you, Wallace,” she said.
As Wallace left, Faye looked at Lucy. “He’s got the secret ingredient,” she said with a reassuring smile.
Then came a sound that made all four remaining children jump. It was followed by a moan from Miss Brett.
“He’s hurting her!” cried Lucy.
Faye peeked in. Miss Brett’s chair was on the floor. As Faye watched, Reginald Roderick Kattaning kicked the chair, and his foot connected with Miss Brett’s hand.
“She’s... she’s all right,” Faye told Lucy, but her eyes did not deceive Noah and Jasper.
As Lucy popped her head up to see for herself, Reginald Roderick Kattaning pulled the chair back up.
“Come on, Wallace,” Noah said to himself.
Wallace, hands shaking but moving as fast as he could, found the burette and the clear liquid, still in the basket Miss Brett had insisted remain outside the classroom. Both sat, untouched, on the window’s ledge.
Back in the kitchen, Reginald Roderick Kattaning’s voice rose yet again. He seemed to be getting more dangerously abusive as he shouted at Miss Brett. The four children cautiously slid their noses up the outside wall to peek in the window.
Facing the other way, Reginald Roderick Kattaning leaned all too close to Miss Brett. “For the seventy-ninth time, Miss Brett,” he growled, “you had better tell me where the thing is. Do you hear me? We have the children locked away and we will not release them until we have it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Miss Brett defiantly. She looked over at the window, where four foreheads and eight eyes peered in at her.
“YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT!!!” roared Reginald Roderick Kattaning, pounding his fists on the table.
Menacingly, he leaned right into Miss Brett, his face mere inches from hers. He grabbed the arms of her chair and shook it violently.
“No, he’ll hurt her!” Lucy cried softly.
Reginald Roderick Kattaning kicked the leg of Miss Brett’s chair, arms flailing, feet stomping like an angry spoiled child. “I WANT THE THING, MISS BRETT!!!” he shouted. “I WANT THE THING AND I WANT IT NOW!!!” He stood up straight and stomped one more time. “YOU WILL REGRET THIS! YOU WILL FEEL PAIN, MISS BRETT!” And he raised his fist.
“No!” shouted Lucy, and before anyone could stop her, the littlest among them grabbed an apple from the bushel and threw it at Reginald Roderick Kattaning.
Instantly, Reginald Roderick Kattaning looked around, distracted, wondering where the apple had come from. Then, new fury in his eyes, he turned back to Miss Brett.
Suddenly, a spray of tiny rock-hard apples came raining in through the window and onto Reginald Roderick Kattaning. Stumbling, he fell onto Miss Brett, but then he stood with a “GRRRRRROAAAAARRRRR” and turned around.
As he searched for the source of the attack, Reginald Roderick Kattaning growled like an angry tiger, swatting at the continuous apple spray. He crushed apple after apple beneath his feet, batting others out of the way as he looked toward the window, but the children ducked in time.
Then, Lucy grabbed a very small apple that had remained on the window ledge. She peeked up just as Reginald Roderick Kattaning turned in her direction. She pulled back her arm and threw it as hard as she could. It hit Reginald Roderick Kattaning right between the eyes.
His eyes crossed and moved around as though searching for that little unripe piece of fruit that hit him, believing it still lodged right in the middle of his forehead. He staggered, haltingly, as if trying to remember a dance he once knew.
Then, without as much as a tweet, a bird flew over and perched on the window ledge.
“You’ve come back!” whispered Lucy, much to the confusion of the others. “It’s Samson!” The bird turned to Lucy and seemed to purr at the sight of her.
Samson, the little bird that had flown into the carriage window, who Lucy had nursed back to health, turned back to face the room and hopped from foot to foot, agitated, making quick sharp chirps.
Faye, without being seen, tried to shoo the bird away. “Get that thing out of—”
But suddenly, Reginald Roderick Kattaning lunged for the bird, as if it was the feathered creature which had been throwing the apples at him. The bird flew out from his grasp, into the room. It circled overhead in short, angry circles. Then, as it swooped by and gave out an angry “caw!,” the bird clipped Reginald Roderick Kattaning hard on the left ear.
Lucy reached up as if to give the bird safe purchase on her arm. But it was Reginald Roderick Kattaning who found the arm first, grabbing it and yanking Lucy away from the now empty bushel beneath the window.
“No!” yelled Jasper, but Reginald Roderick Kattaning swatted him down before he could reach his sister.
“I’ll give you whatever you want!” cried Miss Brett, but Reginald Roderick Kattaning just kicke
d her chair over, knocking her to the floor again.
Samson dive-bombed Reginald Roderick Kattaning again and again, circling and cawing and leaving little bird droppings on Reginald Roderick Kattaning’s head and shoulders, but still the man clung to Lucy, who screamed trying to break free. Neither the terrified children nor Miss Brett knew what to do.
Then Wallace appeared, running toward them, the vial in his hand. Wallace had spent a year creating this chemical. He’d made a promise to his mother. None of that mattered now.
The moment he saw Lucy in peril, Wallace wound up and threw the vial hard onto the floor. It crashed, splashing all over the floor and upon Reginald Roderick Kattaning’s feet.
Reginald Roderick Kattaning took a step, then another, but then he could not gain purchase from the wide glassy patch on which he had stepped. His legs seemed suddenly stiff, as if his trouser legs had turned from linen into glass. As he slipped, he released Lucy, who ran quickly to Miss Brett, moving her teacher’s head from off the hard floor and into her lap.
“He’s getting away!” cried Faye, sure that if Reginald Roderick Kattaning stepped onto the regular floor, he would take off like the wind. But Reginald Roderick Kattaning was not getting away. He was trapped, flailing his arms and spinning his feet on a friction-free section of the floor that happened to be made of a totally different molecular structure. His skinny legs now looked like a blur. Wallace stood frozen, his arm still raised in the throwing position. The children all held their breath.
Like an utterly graceless ballerina, Reginald Roderick Kattaning did a glissade and then a pirouette and then fell, face first, onto the floor at Miss Brett’s feet.
In the few seconds they stood there staring at the sight of their fallen enemy, covered in bird poo, Wallace knew, for the first time, that they could not have done this without him.
Noah took Wallace’s hand and shook it. “Never a dull moment,” Noah said.
THE BACK OF KOMAR ROMAK
OR
THE MAN WHO WASN’T THERE
The children climbed into the kitchen and ran to Miss Brett.
“That was marvelous, children. You’re all so brave,” Miss Brett said as they untied her from her chair.
The Atomic Weight of Secrets or The Arrival of the Mysterious Men in Black Page 25
