The Secrets of Ordinary Farm

Chapter 34

Colin Needle climbed the ladder from the cavern up into the silo. There were footprints on the dusty floor that he didn’t remember having been there before, and for a moment he froze in fear, but he hadn’t seen anyone in the Fault Line cavern and the silo itself was obviously empty, so he decided he just hadn’t noticed the tracks on his way in.

Besides, why would anyone be messing around near the Fault Line on a night like this, anyway? The Jenkins kids were gone, Gideon’s sick, and Mr. Walkwell had plenty of work to keep him busy.

Colin closed and locked the hatch behind him, then slid out of his backpack and set the Continuascope down on top of it to keep the brass he had so carefully buffed and polished from getting scratched again. He reached into the pocket of the jacket he had chosen to wear for his experiment-a far, far heavier garment than what anyone else would be wearing even on a stormy night like this-and took the handkerchief out of his pocket before unwrapping his souvenir.

There it sat, the symbol of his triumph, glistening in the beam of his flashlight like a Christmas ornament, but it was both far more plain and far more wonderful than any mere decorated glass ball.

A twenty thousand year old snowball, he thought to himself. But what made the snowball really special was not just it came from the Ice Age, but from at least a day before Tyler Jenkins had entered that snowy world. Colin knew that because he had set the Continuascope carefully, and this time when stepped out of the Fault Line in the same place he had visited in his first experiment, there were no footprints-not his, not Tyler Jenkins’s.

I made the Continuascope work! Colin wanted to laugh and dance in triumph. I set it and it took me right where and when I wanted it to go! Even old Octavio himself would have had to admit that Colin Needle deserved to be the Continuascope’s new owner!

But as he stared at the tightly-packed white sphere he saw that the handkerchief darkening around it: the snowball was starting to melt, and that would never do. He meant to keep it in the freezer as a symbol of his conquest of the Continuascope-his first step toward taking his rightful place as the master of Ordinary Farm.

He wrapped the snowball in his handkerchief once more and placed it carefully back in the pocket of his jacket, then headed up the stairs.

The rain was pelting down as he left the silo, making his hood bounce above his eyes as he headed back to the house, but beneath his jacket Colin was already sweating-the coat had been good for the Ice Age, but was way too warm for even a rainy summer evening in Standard Valley. Still, he barely noticed. He was already trying to decide where he would go next-or when, more likely, since he had a better grasp on how to set the time coordinates than those that seemed to control location. Would he have to compensate for how the earth changed position over time? That might mean he’d have to create or find some complicated computer program. Of course, if it meant he could travel back to ancient Egypt to see the pyramids built, or to the walls of Troy to watch Achilles fight Hector, it would be worth it.

He was just wondering whether he could take a video camera with him to the past, and if there was a way to make money from that-a feature-length movie of real dinosaurs, maybe, which he could claim he animated-when he realized that something was wrong. The worst of the lightning and thunder had passed, although he could see flashes and thunderheads beyond the western hills and headed toward them, but the expanse of ground between the silo and the driveway was empty but for a tractor deserted when the storm got bad. As he stared he noticed a rather curiously large amount of crawling shapes were scuttling across the mud as though the rain had flooded all the small animals out of their tunnels. It was a strange, lonely scene, but it didn’t explain why he had the distinct and disturbing feeling that something was watching him.

He stopped, squinting at the distant house, but although he could see lights in the window and what might even have been shapes moving behind the curtains in a couple of the rooms, he couldn’t imagine anyone being able to see him out here in the dark. He took a few more steps, then the wind changed, and suddenly a new scent swept over him, sharp and sour as vinegar.

Startled, Colin turned and looked back toward the silo. Something was coming around the tall old structure, walking toward him on all fours with slow, measured steps. An animal. A really big animal. Its head lifted even as Colin stood staring, as though it had not noticed him until now, and the lights from the distant house reflected orange in the lamps of its eyes, as if they were windows and some terrible flame burned inside the low, slanted skull.

One of the manticores was loose.

Colin whimpered in terror, then turned, taking a few running steps toward the house, but he was overbalanced by his backpack and the clumsy coat. He skidded in the mud and tumbled to his knees, then could not get up for a moment as he thrashed helplessly in the muck. He looked back, certain he would see that pale, horribly humanoid face right on top of him but the manticore had not increased its pace, as though it knew he could not outrun it. And the monster was right-it was a hundred yards to the house at least and Colin knew he couldn’t possibly outrun the thing. He whimpered again. The creature kept coming, but now he could see something wasn’t right about it. Its head trembled a bit from side to side, like Gideon’s after he took Colin’s mother’s medication, and its steps seemed awkward, as if it had hurt itself. Despite this, though, it continued toward him, slowly but relentlessly. He scrambled to his feet and began to run again but he stepped on something that burst wetly beneath his foot, and he fell again. His backpack with the precious Continuascope slid down around his arms and he had to shrug it off, still making little noises of terror. When he had finally freed himself the monster was only yards away. Colin tried to get up but knew it was no use. Even if he ran now, the thing would be on him in a second. The house waited, but far out of reach, an impossible distance away.

Lightning flashed, and the manticore’s eyes flashed too. “Help!” Colin screamed. “Help! Mr. Walkwell! Mother!” But the thunder drowned his cries. He scooped up a handful of mud and threw it at the beast but it only spattered harmlessly against its already mud-smeared legs. As it drew nearer he could see the foul yellow teeth in its drooling mouth, the weirdly apelike nostrils flaring as it inhaled his scent.

“Go away!” he shrieked. “Leave me alone!” His hand settled on the wrapped snowball and he threw it, handkerchief and all; it struck the manticore square on the snout and burst in a puff of white. The thing’s head and neck continued to shake and tremble, but otherwise it showed no sign of having noticed. The handkerchief caught for a moment on the creature’s bristly cheek, then slid off and fluttered away in the rising wind.

Jaws grinning, eyes glowing like a jack-o-lantern’s, the beast slouched toward him.