Wychetts and the Farm of Fear

by William Holley

Stuck inside the tipping trailer, Edwin slid ever closer to the Threshing Machine. More black smoke rose from the funnel shaped chimney, spreading across the sky in snaking, root-like tendrils. It was almost dawn, but Edwin wondered if the planet would ever see daylight again; in any case, it was highly likely he wouldn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” he clucked at Stubby. “I got you into this mess.”

  “You certainly did,” agreed the mouse, who was just as stuck as Edwin. “Both literally and metaphorically. Which is pretty good going, as you probably don’t know what either word means.”

  “And Mum,” continued Edwin. “And Bill. And Bryony. Poor Bryony, doomed to a life as a pig because of me. I shouldn’t have tried making her use the Key. I wish I knew why she’s so scared of the magic.”

  “I regret that is something we’ll never find out,” said Stubby.

  Edwin glanced at the sky again. “The black smoke’s spreading.”

  “Don’t look at it,” advised Stubby. “It will only make things worse.”

  Edwin saw vague shapes forming in the sky, eerie twisting forms that squirmed like snakes. Guessing Stubby was right, he switched his attention back to the Threshing Machine.

  “What will happen to us in there?”

  Stubby shrugged. “It should be reasonably painless. First we’ll be tickled by toothbrushes, then buffeted by fluffy pillows and tossed gently into a tank of warm marshmallow.”

  “You think so?” That didn’t sound too bad to Edwin.

  “Or,” continued Stubby, “we’ll be beaten to a pulp by wooden paddles, then flattened through iron rollers and sliced to bits by vicious rotating blades.”

  Edwin clucked uneasily. “Which one do you think it will be?”

  “I’m no expert on such matters,” confessed Stubby. “But I don’t think fluffy pillows make that grinding noise.”

  “Perhaps we should surrender,” suggested Edwin. “If I cried out, they’d spot us and pull us out of here before we ended up in the Thrashing Machine. I mean, we’d be contaminating the harvest, right?”

  “Wrong on two accounts,” replied Stubby. “Firstly, the harvest is already contaminated. It’s raw fear, and nothing can make it any more corrupt than it already is. And secondly, the correct term is Thresh-ing Machine, with an ‘e’. But let’s not split hairs on that. One wrong letter isn’t going to make it hurt any less.”

  They slid ever closer to the chute. Timing their progress to himself, Edwin reckoned they had less than a minute before they’d be guzzled by the machine. He had to act now, or it would be too late. So despite Stubby’s advice, Edwin tilted back his head in readiness to squawk the loudest squawk ever…

  But as he did so, he glimpsed a pair of bright amber eyes staring at him from the side of the trailer.

  “Captain Rathbone!”

  “Shhh,” said the Captain. “They don’t know we’re here. We must maintain silence until you are rescued.”

  “When will that be?” asked Stubby. “It may have escaped your notice, but we don’t exactly have time for a haircut, a coffee, and a conversation about our choice of holiday destinations this year.”

  “There’s a lever somewhere,” said Edwin. “Pull it and the trailer will tilt back.”

  “I know about the lever,” said Captain Rathbone. “I have my right paw resting on it as we speak. However, if I act now we are sure to be discovered. But don’t worry, we have prepared a diversionary ruse, which will be executed any second.”

  “We?” clucked Edwin. “You’ve found Bryony?”

  “She’s alive and well,” revealed the Captain. “And poised to recover the Key.”

  Across the other side of the yard, Bryony had taken her position behind the pile of old oil drums. Boglehob stood about ten feet away with his back to her, a long scythe in one hand, his sack face tilted up to watch the black smoke spreading across the sky. Ma and Jed were encouraging the scarecrow workforce with a mixture of shouts and kicks. Katya and Dawes stood next to the Threshing Machine. Like Boglehob they stared at the sky, and Bryony wondered what they were seeing in the smoke. Perhaps, as members of the evil Shadow Clan, they didn’t have any fears. By the looks on their faces it seemed as though they were enjoying the spectacle.

  Looking across the yard, Bryony saw the Captain had climbed the ramp, and was standing next to the trailer. She could see Edwin’s little chicken head sliding ever nearer to the chute, but like the Captain said, Bryony knew she had to focus on her own task and retrieve the Key from Boglehob.

  It wouldn’t be easy, especially as he was armed with that scythe. But Bryony had a plan. It had come to her only moments ago, and she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it earlier.

  She had knocked off Boglehob’s head before, so she could do it again. Without his head the scarecrow would be helpless, and she could nab the Key before anyone knew what had happened.

  As long as Zach did his bit.

  Bryony wouldn’t openly admit it, but she had doubts about Zach. Despite his brave words, he was still petrified of Ma and Jed, not to mention Boglehob and the other scarecrows. She didn’t blame him for that, but doubted if he had the courage to carry out his role in this operation.

  The Captain had given Zach three minutes. Surely his time was up by now?

  Suddenly she heard a scream.

  All heads turned to the farmhouse. The door burst open, and Zach came haring out, pursued by a cloud of grey smoke.

  “Fire!” he screeched, waving his arms around. “The kitchen’s on fire!”

  “What have you done?” Ma recovered from her shock to grab Zach’s ear as he rushed up to her. “Tell me, boy!”

  “The oven caught fire,” whined Zach, grimacing as Ma’s fleshy fingers scrunched his ear lobe. “I made it hot like you said, but it got too hot, and now the kitchen’s ablaze!”

  “Don’t exaggerate,” said Ma. “You’ve always been one for telling tales, like claiming you can speak to dumb animals. Why, I bet…” Ma’s voice trailed off, and her ferrety eyes widened as she glimpsed yellow flames snaking from the farmhouse door.

  “You flutter-fingered sliphuck!” Ma twisted Zach’s ear even harder. “I told you to cook the piggy, not the whole kitchen. Jed, fetch some water!”

  “But Ma,” groaned Jed. “I’m supervising the scarecrows. Can’t Zach put out the fire?”

  “He’s too feeble.” Ma shoved Zach away with a dismissive snarl, and pointed a chubby finger at Jed. “Get some water, before the whole house goes up in flames!”

  A grumbling Jed slouched off across the farmyard. Zach winked at Bryony as he met her anxious gaze. Then he mouthed a single word: Now.

  Bryony hesitated. Boglehob still had his back to her. Everyone else, including Dawes and Katya, were now looking at the burning farmhouse.

  She looked across the yard to where the Captain stood beside the trailer. He nodded at her, and flicked his bushy tail.

  Bryony took a deep breath. It was now or never.

  She broke from cover and charged at Boglehob. If she built up enough speed, she reckoned she could knock the lopsided scarecrow off his feet with no trouble at all.

  But Bryony didn’t get time to build up enough speed…

  “Look out!” cried a voice. “Behind you, master!”

  Bryony skittered to a halt as Boglehob swung round, the edge of the scythe blade coming to a rest against the tip of her snout.

  “What’s this!” screeched Ma, glaring at Bryony and then at Zach. “You told me you were cooking the piggy, so what’s she doing out ‘ere?”

  “You have been deceived!” The turnip laughed as it bounced across the yard. “They tricked you, the pair of them. And there’s another at the trailer, the half-fox Captain Rathbone!”

  The Captain’s paw was poised on the lever, but froze at the sound of his name.

  “Step back from there,” ordered Dawes, pointing at the Captain. “Step back, or we’ll turn your Guardian friend into sausages!”

  Boglehob seized Bryony, an
d bound her legs together with twine from his pocket.

  “Not again,” she grunted, wondering how many more times she was going to be trussed up.

  Once Bryony was secured, Boglehob rolled her onto her back, and held the scythe blade to her throat.

  “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted that turnip,” growled Zach. “He was just a plant.”

  “How dare you,” said the turnip. “I am not a plant. I am a root vegetable, and proud of it. Still, I’m glad I managed to surprise you. Bit of a turnip for the books, eh? Turnip. Turn up. See what I did there?”

  Trussed up with twine and with a scythe blade at her throat, Bryony was in no mood for vegetable puns. Their plan to rescue Edwin and retrieve the Wychetts Key had failed.

  “I said step back from the trailer,” Dawes told the Captain again. “Mr Boglehob is very efficient with the scythe.”

  “Do as he says,” Edwin clucked at the Captain. “You can’t let them hurt Bryony. I’m finished anyhow, but Bryony is the only hope.”

  The Captain hesitated, and then leaped from the ramp. By the time he landed he had transformed into human shape.

  “Captain Rathbone, how nice to make your acquaintance again.” Katya smiled at the Captain. “We knew it was only a matter of time before you made an appearance. But your efforts are in vain. You cannot stop us this time.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” said the Captain. “You might have one Guardian held captive, but you forget there is another.”

  “The other Guardian is in the trailer,” said the turnip, as Dawes and Katya swapped puzzled glances. “The little ginger chicken is stuck in the harvest.”

  “No need to worry about the boy,” said Katya, her smile returning. “The Threshing Machine will make short work of him. And we all know the pig girl is useless without the Wychetts Key.”

  As Katya spoke, Boglehob drew the Key out of his waistcoat pocket.

  “You see,” purred Katya, her emerald eyes glinting as she regarded the Captain. “Thanks to Mr Boglehob and his turnip spy, it seems we were one step ahead of the game all along.”

  “And the game is over,” croaked Dawes. “For you, and all life on this miserable planet. Once the Barrenrake’s shroud of fear has smothered the globe, civilisation will crumble and we shall rule the world.”

  “Never mind about ruling the world,” snarled Ma. “My house is on fire!”

  The flames had spread rapidly, and now the thatched farmhouse roof was ablaze.

  “Jed!” screeched Ma, looking round for her son. “Where have you got to?”

  “I’m ‘ere, Ma!” Jed came hurrying across the yard with a bucket of water, but stumbled before he reached the house, and ended up on the ground with the bucket on his head.

  “Useless sliphuck!” Ma aimed a kick at her son’s backside. Then she pointed at Dawes. “Order those scarecrows to help.”

  “The scarecrows are processing the harvest,” said Dawes.

  “Poo to your harvest!” shrieked Ma. “My house is more important.” Then she turned her attention back to Jed. “Son, order them scarecrows to help us!”

  Jed scrambled to his feet, and shouted orders at the scarecrows. Unfortunately all anyone heard was a muffled whimper.

  Ma sighed and rolled her eyes. “First take that bucket off your head, clod-brain.”

  Jed took the bucket off his head, and shouted again at the scarecrows. But the scarecrows ignored him, and continued turning the wheel of the Threshing Machine.

  “They will not obey you,” sneered Dawes. “We are their true masters. And to us, you and your half-witted son are no better than those sack faced slaves.”

  “But we’ve helped you,” protested Ma. “We’ve put ourselves and our farm at your disposal. You owe us.”

  “Indeed we do,” agreed Katya. “And perhaps it’s time we paid our debts.”

  Dawes nodded at Boglehob. The scarecrow left Bryony trussed up on the ground, and shuffled towards Ma with his scythe raised.

  “So you’ll help put out the fire?” Ma smiled at the advancing Boglehob, as though she didn’t have the slightest inkling of what might follow.

  But Bryony knew the Shadow Clan better than Ma, and realised exactly what the scarecrow had in mind.

  She shouted a warning, but to Ma it just sounded like a piggy squeal.

  It was only when Boglehob stood right over her, with his scythe poised to strike, that Ma finally got the idea.

  “You can’t,” she gasped, her ferrety eyes widening. “Not after all we’ve done for you. You said you’d repay me. You said the Ministry of Agriculture would see me right!”

  “Indeed we did,” said Dawes. “But we are not the Ministry of Agriculture. We are the Shadow Clan.”

  “So…” Ma shook her head with disbelief. “You lied?”

  Katya nodded. “It’s what we do.”

  Boglehob raised the scythe higher, the curved blade hovering above Ma’s flabby neck.

  “Jed!” screeched Ma, frozen with terror. “Save me!”

  But Jed stood trembling, unable to offer any response except a terrified mewling.

  Bryony squealed again, and struggled to free her legs from the twine. Despite all she had suffered at Ma’s podgy hands, she couldn’t let that sack faced monster go through with his orders.

  But Bryony couldn’t move, and could only watch as Boglehob raised his scythe to strike the killer blow…

  Chapter 17- As Gentlemen Should