Puddlejumpers (29 page)

Ernie watched from the squad car's darkened backseat. He hoped it wasn't Buck and Cully inside the cage, but he had a gut feeling it was.

Dashin flicked off his light. “You got a license for that, Harv?” he joked.

“Yes, sir, I believe I do,” said Holsapple as he returned to the Caddy. “If memory serves me right, I picked it up the same day I paid for your election.”

The sheriff tried to laugh it off. “Sure enough, Harvey. You all have a good night now.”

The Caddy backed onto the highway, then disappeared into the dark.

The humiliated sheriff settled behind the wheel and glared at Ernie in the rearview mirror. “If anything turns up wrong with that little girl, you're gonna wish you never got born.”

Spitting gravel, the sedan accelerated onto the highway and sped toward town. The sheriff flicked the toggle on his radio mic. “Wooden Nickel, this is One Thin Dime. Come in, over.”

Ernie turned toward a light tapping on the window. Root was clinging to the roof of the cruiser with a frightened look on his face. Up ahead, an eighteen-wheeler was fast approaching. Hoping the noise would distract the sheriff, Ernie waited until the big rig went roaring past to twist like a pretzel and open the window with his foot. Relieved, Root slipped inside and disappeared under the front seat. Dashin reached back to give Ernie a good swat. “I thought I told you to keep that window shut. Oh, you're gonna get it good.”

A voice crackled from the radio. “This is Wooden Nickel.”

Dashin clicked his mic. “I found Joey Woodruff. The orphan kid had her all along.”

The radio squawked. “Yabba-dabba-doo!”

Root peeked up between Dashin's legs and spied the keys dangling from the ignition.

“Ditto, Wooden Nickel,” said Dashin. “Get the cell ready. We'll book him for kidnapping, at least for starters. This kid's going away for a very long time.”

Suddenly the sheriff hit the brakes hard. The car skidded to a stop in front of a big tree lying across the road. “What the hell?” he grumbled. Ernie watched as he eased his big rear end out of the car and went to investigate. At the side of the road, Dashin stared in disbelief at the trunk of the fallen tree. It looked like a slew of beavers had gnawed right through it. He cursed.

A mysterious
hoot
answered from the pitch black. He swallowed, unnerved, staring into the eerie darkness. Four loud
pops
broke the quiet, followed by the sound of hissing air. The sheriff hurried back to his car and shined the flashlight. There was a porcupine quill stuck in each of his brand-new Goodyears. He watched helplessly as his car sank slowly to the pavement.

In the backseat, Root found the right key to unlock the cuffs. With a grateful nod, Ernie banged open the door and bolted into the field.

“Get back here, you orphan brat!” shouted the sheriff as he fumbled for the revolver on his belt. He chased a few yards before firing a shot into the air. “Get back here!”

Dashin's stomach flipped upside down when his squad car roared to life with siren blaring and strobe lights flashing. Hustling back, he found the doors locked with the keys still in the ignition. He kicked one of the flattened tires, then winced in pain. “Damn you, Ernie Banks!”

Ernie raced blindly across the dark field, stumbling over the furrows until he fell flat on his face. Spitting dirt, he looked up to see Runnel, Pav, Chop, two beavers, and a porcupine. The animals bristled at the human and scurried off. Motioning for him to follow, the Puddlejumpers scampered through the wheat under a harsh beam of light panning back and forth across the field from the squad car. Every time Dashin's spotlight passed, Ernie dove to the ground, then was up again at full speed. He was a fast runner, but could barely keep up with the Jumpers.

In the next field, they made the rendezvous with Root. Pav went her own way, returning to the Deep Down to tend to MotherEarth. The others continued on as the sheriff's angry rant receded into the distance.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Matuba Ka-lo-lo

E
RNIE
, R
OOT
, R
UNNEL
, and Chop crept to the edge of Black Rock and looked out over the bleak landscape. In the moonlight, the distant derrick pump stations looked like an army of mechanical praying mantises, incessantly thumping and grinding as they sucked the life out of the earth. Below them, the Caddy was parked in the courtyard, and there was a light on in an upstairs room of the manse.

Runnel took the Crystal Acorn from her pouch. She pried off the cap, revealing the muddy potion that Ernie had refused to drink in the Deep Down. She gave it to him. This time no one uttered a word. Ernie held the Acorn in both hands. He was afraid to drink it and even more afraid of the Holsapple monsters. But he remembered what MotherEarth had told him:

“
This is the way home.
”

If he wanted Russ to believe him, he needed to go back inside the house. He needed to go to the Most Dark.
But what is the Most Dark? And how will I make it rain?
His head ached with questions. He looked at Runnel and Root and Chop, all waiting with expectant eyes, then pressed the Acorn to his lips and bravely drank to the last drop. He shuddered.

Then something miraculous happened.

He felt a tingling in his toes, as if thousands of pine needles were softly pricking him. The sensation traveled up his legs, then across his chest and down his arms to his fingertips. His ears got warm and he felt like his body was falling through space as he began to shrink and shrink and shrink…until he was only eleven inches tall!

Ernie had become one of them. Ernie had become a Puddlejumper. Climbing out from under his pile of clothes, he rubbed his tiny hands and hopped a few times on his tiny feet. Except for the webbing between his fingers and toes, he was a miniature version of himself. The best thing of all was the feeling of electricity surging through him, as if he could hit a ball out of Wrigley and run to his roof in time to catch it. At the same time, it was unsettling to be so small, and he wondered if Russ would accept a son who was only eleven inches tall.

He put that thought out of his mind because the Puddlejumpers were handing him clothes made from duckweed and ferns, and leggings of yellow foxtail. He dressed quickly, then slipped into mukluks made from water lilies to protect his feet from the fires of the Most Dark. Runnel had even made a Cubs cap from arrowhead leaves and stitched the C with red bog lily. It fit snugly on his head.

Root sprinkled him with fox dander, camouflaging his scent, then strapped a Puddlejumper belt around his waist. Chop double-checked the tools and pouches containing balms, powders, and pods. Runnel gave him a birch-bark quiver holding a cattail plunger filled with water. Ernie slung the weapon onto his back. It reminded him of the Super Soaker water guns he'd seen kids play with back in Chicago. He listened to Runnel's urgent instructions—amazed that he could now understand every single strange word—as she put the Crystal Acorn back around his neck. Now that Ernie was small, it felt almost like a baseball in his hand.

Suddenly he remembered something. Digging into the pile of clothes, he found his pocket watch in his jeans. The Puddlejumpers strapped it to his chest, using the brass chain. The watch was heavy, but it would serve as a shield of golden armor.

Root knotted one end of a long wheat braid to the end of a stone sickle and asked Ernie to throw it to the Holsapple roof. It was a long way off, but Ernie knew he had a good arm and was willing to try. Gripping the braid in one hand, he bounded to the edge of the cliff and hurled the sickle with a strong overhand throw. It spun through the air until it struck the roof, then clattered down the shingles and locked in the rain gutter. Root and Chop yanked the braid taut, then knotted it around a pine tree. The tightrope of braided wheat now spanned the chasm between cliff and manse.

Root, then Runnel, started across, but Ernie hesitated. He'd been afraid jumping the rooftops in Chicago, and that was nothing compared to this. This was like walking a wire across the Grand Canyon. He tested the rope's give with his foot and felt it wobble. He looked back to Chop, who offered encouragement. With a deep breath, Ernie eased out onto the braid, arms extended for balance. He pretended that he was walking a train track, just inches off the ground, until he looked past his feet at the deep chasm below.

“Koka lo!”
warned Chop.

Ernie jerked his head up and continued toward the rooftop. He could feel the braid dip when Chop followed behind. Silhouetted by the full moon, the four tiny figures teetered across the braided rope. As their shadows crossed over the manse portico below, the stone Chimeras stirred restlessly.

Ernie again glanced down and froze midstep. The sentries were glaring up at him like two mutant lions sighting helpless prey. They flexed their monstrous wings, which triggered a violent gust of wind. The high wire vibrated from the sudden gale and the Puddlejumpers dashed pellmell for the roof. Root, Runnel, and Ernie made it across, but another gust blew Chop off the rope. He lunged for the rain gutter and missed, but Ernie caught his hand and pulled him to safety.

They raced up the steep incline past gabled windows to the crest of the slate roof. In the next instant, the Chimeras, now airborne and breathing fire, rose up above the roofline like a deadly storm. The panicked Jumpers sprinted to the base of the chimney, where they scaled the column of bricks to the summit. Runnel took a cocoon from her pouch and tore it open. A big furry spider emerged and disappeared down the dark chimney.

Root squealed a warning.

The twin Chimeras dove at wicked speed with wings pinned and talons outstretched, knocking them from their perch. One snatched Chop in its claws. Screeching, they swooped around for the next charge. The Jumpers scrambled back, hearing Chop's pained hoots as the Chimeras dove again. Runnel pushed Ernie down the chimney, then jumped right behind. Root dodged the fiery blast from the first attacker, but the second engulfed him in a violent blur.

In the chimney, Ernie and Runnel spun head over heels down the black shaft. They landed in a web spun inches off the stone floor, bouncing on the sticky trampoline. Making room for Root's landing, they peered up the shaft and waited. But he never arrived. Runnel blinked back tears, her wail echoing up the chimney. Ernie put a hand on her shoulder and gently whispered,
“Mataki, mataki lo.”
Runnel nodded bravely, then turned to the spider and gratefully scratched its torso. Locking her feet in the web, she swung upside down so she could peek out from the dark fireplace.

The library was quiet. They dropped to the floor and started across the room, but the sound of running dogs drove them back to the hearth. They jumped up the chimney as the wolfhounds bounded into the room, slipping and sliding across the polished floor. Ernie thought they were trapped, until Runnel unexpectedly dropped to the floor. The wolfhounds snapped viciously, but she stood her ground. Ernie watched amazed from the web as Runnel barked and whined and cooed until they let her stroke their big, wet noses with her tiny hand. The dogs whimpered as she whispered in their ears. At her signal, Ernie joined them on the floor. It was scary standing next to a dog as big as an elephant. Ernie scratched behind their ears, which they appreciated after years of abuse. Runnel gripped the studded collar on one of the dogs and climbed onto his neck. Ernie mounted the other dog, then they rode the reformed wolfhounds from the library like two jockeys trotting toward the starting gate.

Suddenly two Troggs came bellowing down the hallway. Ernie and Runnel swung beneath the dogs and hid in the fur of their underbellies. Upside down, they watched the Troggs stomp into the library. Ernie thought he could see the twins' features buried in their hideous faces. He heard muffled cries of alarm emanating from their fleshy stomach pouches, and knew it was Root and Chop.

The beasts extended their tails high into the chimney, but the only thing they caught was a nostril full of sticky web and soot. Braying angrily, they overturned every piece of furniture and ripped the drapes from the windows. Finding nothing, they stormed away. The dogs, bearing their secret passengers, followed them into the kitchen and down the cellar stairs.

Dicky Cobb, a deep wound from the bear trap scarring his gnarly leg, waited by the open “potato bin.” His tail slithered inside one twin's pouch, then the other, checking the new prisoners, wetting them with mucus. Runnel whispered to her wolfhound and the dogs nosed closer to the bin. Despite the fox dander, Cobb caught a whiff of another Jumper. He whipped around and snarled at the dogs. They retreated, whimpering, but Cobb stalked Ernie's wolfhound into the corner. His tail frisked up and down the terrified animal, snorting grotesquely. Ernie felt the nostril sucking on his back like a hairy vacuum.

In a desperate effort to protect her Rainmaker, Runnel scurried into the open, hooting fiercely. Cobb pounced. The twins attacked, too, but Runnel dodged their lunges and wicked tail swipes.

Knowing it was now or never, Ernie dropped off his dog and slipped down the iron ladder.

When the Troggs finally cornered Runnel, Cobb snatched her in a claw, ripped off her Puddlejumper belt, and licked her with a thorny tongue. The twins convulsed with laughter as he stuffed her into his hideous pouch.

Cobb punished the wolfhounds with a tail-whipping before the Troggs pounded down the ladder into the oval chamber. Cully and Buck, scratched and bruised but still alert, watched from a thorny cage as Cobb flipped toggle switches at a control panel that triggered a low hum and flashing red lights. Axel unbuckled latches at the base of the ladder and Angus released a six-foot lever. The ladder retracted into the ceiling.

If Troggs paid attention to detail, they would have noticed that one of the portholes encircling the chamber was ajar. Oblivious, Cobb fired the engines. The Puddlejumpers covered their ears to muffle the deafening roar.