Chapter Four
Anxiously Lachy climbed down from the buggy, and he took in everything around him with interest. He’d never been on this side of the gate, come to think of it, he’d never seen an outsider on this side of the gate. His eyes met with Mulish Schmidt, and he scuffed his boot nervously in the dust. “No?”
“Nein.” Mulish Schmidt confirmed in his German Dialect, and directly turned on one heel following the buggy toward the barn.
“What do you mean no? I can’t stay here, what about my father?” Lachy cringed when he heard his voice crack, he didn’t want Mulish to think he was afraid, because he wasn’t scared, he was frustrated. He plowed on grimly behind Mulish, stuck in his mind was the shocking image of the creature, and the Warlock’s eyes. Lachy couldn’t imagine eyes more terrifying, they were so filled with hate, and bitterness. The main fear Lachy felt now, was about getting home, safely without running into the creature, or the man who called himself a Warlock, again.
“Horace Wulf will be goodly pleased, that thou liveth.” Mulish Schmidt called back. Lachy was astounded when he said it, and his heart skipped a beat, he nearly forgot he’d asked the question. One thing Lachy was learning about Mulish, he took his time answering questions, he must think it through before he puts the words out there. He debated, if it was the Amish way, or just the Mulish way. Maybe they didn’t call him Mulish, for nothing, he was even stubborn about speaking.
“You know who they are don’t you. What that creature is?” Lachy asked, in the same tone, his entire body began to tremble. Mulish Schmidt again didn’t reply straight away, nor did he react when Lachy spoke. He did turn and stand by the barn doors, patiently waiting, with a grave expression. Lachy shrugged and went to stand beside Mulish, feeling uncomfortable being there, hoping Mulish was waiting for his brothers, so he could get Lachy’s bike out of the back of the buggy. Then he froze a few feet away from the door, and his cheeks blanched. “What do you want from me?”
“The matter at hand Horace’s Lachy, is what thou needeth from me.” Mulish Schmidt replied, his voice softened, along with the hard lines around his eyes.
“I do need my bike?” Lachy replied, with a dull voice, somehow he didn’t think that was going to happen. Not tonight.
“Trust him! Draculoc, you must obey.” Came the voice inside his head, it was huge, intense and alien, and it frightened Lachy now that he could picture the dark sinister creature who had the power to speak inside his mind.
“Why should I? I haven’t decided if I trust you!” Lachy replied, taking a risk that he had insulted the creature, watching the skies for shadows, to see if it came back.
“If Draculoc wishes to live, he will trust.”
“No. I want to go home.”
“If Draculoc wishes for Horace Wulf to live, you will trust.” The voice said urgently, it was so clear that Lachy could hear the panting breaths of the creature, as if it was standing next to him.
Lachy had a new type of panic wash over him, at the mention of his father. It was amazing how the creature knew his name, and Lachy dreaded that the creature not only could speak in his mind, maybe he had the power to read it, too. “What does this have to do with my father?”
“Everything.” The voice in his head, replied.
“Is that Warlock after my father?” Lachy whispered inside his mind, as terror was belting him at the thought of losing his dad. His father wouldn’t see what was coming, he wouldn’t understand any of this until it was too late.
“No.”
Lachy realized that he must look like a babbling idiot, and his cheeks flushed hotly, as he noticed Mulish Schmidt was still patiently waiting with one hand on the door, watching him with the patience of a Saint. “What’s in there?” Lachy asked, because it was too dark to figure that out on his own. He was overcome with anxiety, and was apprehensive about the words of the creature who seemed to want the same thing as Mulish, for Lachy to trust them both.
“Protection,” Mulish Schmidt answered in a calming voice. “Thou art safe here for this night.”
A loud burst of lightening streaked across the sky with a rumble of thunder, and Lachy instinctively ducked his head, the horror of being struck by lightening paid a visit to his thoughts, and he was getting nervous about finding shelter, and fast. “My father will worry,” Lachy said, taking slow easy steps backward, not especially eager to step inside the dark barn. It was larger then life, up close and personal, no wonder Lachy could see it so clearly from the road. It smelled of hay and animal sweat, the ordinary smells of a barn that Lachy expected to encounter. There was movement inside, shuffling of hooves, and he suspected it was where Mulish and his brothers kept the live stalk. It wasn’t where they parked the buggy, and Lachy wanted to go where the buggy was, that was where his bike was put, and he wanted his bike. He wanted to race down Orchard Ave toward home. The thunder rumbled again. Lachy thought it over, maybe he could speed down Orchard Ave, after the storm. He heard people who were struck by lightening had a good chance of it happening again, in the stories he read, some of the victims were hit sporadically over a lifespan, as if their body became a rod, a channel for the electricity, it was drawn to them like bees to honey. Lachy wasn’t eager to test out that theory, not wanting to take the chance, that next time he might not live to talk about it.
“He will be at peace to know Draculoc lives, come morning light.” The voice in his head replied, there were short stuttering breaths when the voice said it, as if he was labouring to talk. Lachy could feel the tension behind the tone of the creature’s voice, and figured he must be still battling with the Warlock, it was amazing how he could battle and still eaves drop in on Lachy, at the same time.
“Walketh Horace’s Lachy, the lamb’s blood will protect thou.” Mulish Schmidt said, with a hint of urgency as he pointed toward the red star on the barn. He didn’t sound as annoyed as Lachy would be, if someone made him wait so long for them to decide. Mulish had a thick smooth voice, his eyes were kind, and even though he spoke of lamb’s blood as if that was a normal part of life, Lachy didn’t fear him, deep down he knew Mulish didn’t mean him harm.
“So that’s ah, not paint?” Lachy looked up at the tiny shutter window on the barn, and his upper lip curled. “That’s lamb’s blood.”
“Ye shall not disturb the horses,” he ordered, with a hand out. “Make haste Horace’s Lachy.”
“Attend with the plane male young Draculoc, it is the only way.” The voice in his head calmly spoke up, he was a help and a hindrance all at the same time. Lachy did need the extra encouragement, even though the threatening storm was also making him fretful about choosing to leave the Amish farm. Soon Mulish and the others would be off to bed, and the gate would be locked until morning. It was far too high to climb, Lachy had to choose now, what he was going to do. He looked in the direction of home, and noted there were no lights on, and the truck was parked in the drive. He considered that his father might have fallen asleep, and didn’t know he wasn’t in the house.
“Young Draculoc! He returns.” Lachy immediately looked to the sky when the heard those shuddering words, and felt his breath slowly vacuum from his lungs.
Lachy was standing straight, his limbs rigid like a robot. A hostile feeling caged his heart, he felt eyes on them, it was intense, as if they were being watched in secret. With terror belting him in the stomach, he spied the road, straining to see beyond the shadows, the darkness was pretty much settled and everything looked bleak. If nothing moved, he’d never know it was there. His view dropped to the locked gate, it was wide and tall, and made of steel. Easy enough to see through, but too closely knitted to for anyone to crawl between the bars.
Lachy’s heart was pounding so hard that he thought he was going to propel into the air, and take flight. He saw a long leather overcoat, with glowing green eyes glaring in his direction. He was pressed face first against the gate, his leather gloved hands were perched on the rods, with his arms stretched out wide. It was the Warlock. The creature was
right.
“M.. Mu.. Mulish Schmidt?” Lachy said feeling his cheeks pail as he pointed toward the gate. “He is here.”
“Make haste,” Mulish Schmidt repeated, without delay. His brothers had already returned to their farm houses, and when Lachy gazed up, he noticed Mulish’s Lomey had been watching them from the front porch with a strained expression. “I’m sorry to put your family in danger.” Lachy said, with sad eyes as he took a step toward the kind Amish man.
“Leviticus 19:18; Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the young of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself: I am the Lord.” A smile formed on Mulish Schmidt’s bearded chin. “He doeth not wish us harm.”
“Then what does he want?” Lachy asked, folding his arms around his middle as he peeked through the large doors. He knew once he stepped inside, there was no going back, it looked safe and warm and far better than standing out in the open, when they only had seconds left, before the Warlock lifted into the air, and charged.
“Horace’s Lachy,” was Mulish Schmidt’s reply, as he escorted Lachy into the barn.
--
The large barn doors made an echoing, eerie creek when they closed with a booming echo. Lachy stood by the door on the inside of the barn, with his around hugging around his waist. Hs teeth were chattering uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the darkness of the large space, and he sighed with a bit of relief when Mulish Schmidt lit a lantern. Mulish’s long frame in dark plain clothes in day light had made him seem, more of a humble farmer, but standing in the shadow of a glowing lantern, reminded Lachy of seeing a real life Wizard of old days past. Come to think of it, the dark clothes and long flowing gowns on the ladies, made them all, look a little bewitched. But that was impossible, Lachy knew they were peaceful, God loving people. Lachy watched with interest as Mulish hung the lantern off the wall, and turned to face Lachy. “Thy barn is marked as Sacred Ground, thou shalt be safe from thy creatures this night.”
“What does that mean?” Lachy asked with wide eyes as he pulled on a stool, he sat on it, with his a severe fixation on the barn doors. His teeth were still rattling, and he was chilled to the bone. It was warm inside the barn, cosy actually, and yet Lachy was shivering as though it were midwinter.
“Proverbs 5; Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. It is what it says to be, Sacred.”
Lachy turned his full attention onto Mulish Schmidt, lifting his eyes trying to determine Mulish’s mood, and came up blank. Mulish wasn’t an easy man to read, it might have been the bearded chin, it masked his expressions, and his large dark hat concealed his eyes. “What do you know about them?”
Mulish Schmidt pulled a stool up close to the barn doors, and took a seat, with a stiff posture his small round eyes fell on to Lachy. “Horace’s Lachy, one knowest not the stranger’s intentions against thou. One does however, knowest of his nature, he is Warlock, an evil creature of great power. Witchcraft is spoken of in the Bible, you must see, a Warlock is not a Witch. Warlocks doeth not partake in the practice Witchcraft, some say, they use dragon magic.”
Lachy swallowed hard. He recalled the stranger telling him, that he was a Warlock, at the time, deep inside his heart, he didn’t believe it. “I don’t mean to sound mean Mulish Schmidt, but in the real world, like out there.” He pointed toward the barn doors. “Warlocks aren’t real. They are made up stuff, like on tv.”
Mulish Schmidt shook his head. “Yes one has heard of this tv, there is one that plays in down town Lancaster, in the glass of a storefront when we go to Lititz Market.”
“Yes, that’s right, tv. It has actors, they play out roles, nothing they do is real, it’s all.. fake.”
“Thine lack of faith one fears may be the death of thou, alas, as will it also come to Horace Wulf.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Lachy jumped to his feet, his arms were raised in utter bewilderment, fear and irritation. “What does this have to do with my father?”
“It is his burden to remedy with thou.”
Lachy stared at him for a long moment, thinking about the changes inside of him, since the night of the thunderstorm. “I was hit by lightening.” He said, changing the subject, watching for Mulish Schmidt’s reaction.
Mulish’s firm expression was unchanged. Lachy couldn’t figure out if Mulish was expecting him to say it, or if he was just a hard man to shock. “It is an omen to be sure, to attract lightening.”
“An omen? Is that why you painted the markings on the barn windows?”
Mulish shook his head. “It was the Omen. It clearly indicated that he is coming.”
Lachy eyed him, suspiciously. “Do you talk inside people’s heads?”
Mulish seemed confused by the question, he sat quietly, deep in thought, and offered no response.
‘No, I don’t suppose you do.’ Lachy thought, feeling a little silly for asking.
“Only those touched by the beast, has the power to invade the mind.” Mulish tried his best to respond in a way that Lachy would understand. He shifted his eyes over to the horses, who were scuffling around their stalls, probably wondering why the lights were on, when it was time for bed. The horses worked hard on the farm, and were no doubt in a strict routine.
Lachy knew Mulish must be getting anxious to head inside his house, even if he appeared calm, and patient on the outside. He spread out his questions inside him mind like a deck of cards, trying to pick the most significant ones, before Mulish left him, alone, in this sanctified outsized barn. He thought about the strange behavior of Mulish and his brothers, painting weird markings on the barn, the unfriendly faces he saw when he passed them by. He guessed that Mulish Schmidt knew more than he was sharing, Lachy assumed he just wasn’t asking the right questions.
“Come morning light was the death of a lamb. The grass below it had charred. To repel the Omen, the David Star must be painted with the lamb’s blood. In protection from the beasts.”
Lachy thought long and hard before he spoke again. “Can you tell me anything about the Creature and the Warlock? What would make them come after me?”
Mulish Schmidt sat for long pauses of moments and stared at his hands. “The better question, Horace’s Lachy, mayhap be, what is in thine possession that he seeks?”
“I’m 13 years old, I don’t own anything but a couple of comic books and some video games.”
The kindly Amish man shook his head. “I must retire.”
“Please don’t go yet?”
“Proverbs 6; In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” Mulish Schmidt quoted from the Old testament. He nodded with a calm expression and in the same even tone, he said. “We expected thou to come, Mulish’s Lomey has procured thine a quilt and pillow. Mulish’s Lomey’s Jakob set it in the crows nest. Block thine ears to the howl of the beast, do not leave Sacred Ground, or thou will perish.” With that, Mulish Schmidt stood to his feet, and walked to the barn doors. Without even a blink of an eye, he stepped out into the yard and closed the doors behind him.
Lachy waited to hear a lock click, but there wasn’t another sound. That meant he wasn’t trapped, he was free to leave, if he wished. He sat perfectly still, mulling over all that Mulish Schmidt had said, and considered bolting out the door, and racing toward home. A quickening of emotions ripped through him, as he thought of the frightening lime-green eyes, the powerful plasma balls, and the flying creature as large as a glider, plane.
He determined it was best to stay in Mulish Schmidt’s Sacred Barn, and deal with his father in the morning. He no doubt be would miffed at Lachy for not coming home, and there was no easy or believable way to explain why he couldn’t come home. That it was safer to stay over at the Schmidt’s then risk his life, or theirs for that matter, trying to make it back to the house.
Lachy climbed up the narrow ladder to the top hayloft, carrying the lantern in one hand. The dimly lit top level of the barn, was sturdy and clean. Off to the corner, an
d below the window was a small framed bed, covered with a hand-sewn quilt with bright colors stretched across it, just as Mulish said, there was a pillow.
Lachy hooked the lantern, and it dangled off a wooden hook, with the room taking on an amber hue, he hesitated, looking around. There wasn’t anything but a small wooden cot, it looked soft, cushiony and very inviting. He glanced at his watch, and clicked on the side button, the orange night light glowed and he read 7:52, it probably felt like midnight in the Amish world.
He supposed it was getting late enough for bed, and he figured some sleep would do him good. He stretched out on the feather mattress and sighed as he sunk in the middle. Mulish’s Lomey’s quilt was thick, heavy and comforting, it smelled of lavender and fresh cedar, and he eagerly snuggled into it, imagining that his mother would have made him a quilt, if she had survived the terrible accident that claimed her life. He considered how strange it was to see the Amish up and about during the night hours, and thought how tired Mulish would be come the morning light, he would probably feel like he pulled an all nighter, and be in trouble with his wife, for being a cranky sleepy headed grump. Lachy smiled at the thought of it, Mulish’s Lomey with her hands planted on her aproned hips, scowling at Mulish for not keeping up with his scheduled chores. He closed his eyes and began to drift to sleep, hoping that his father wasn’t going to wake up, and worry about where he went. He vowed to try to wake up early enough to run home, slip into his bed, and his father would be none the wiser.
There was a knock.
He sat upright, panting in the threatening darkness, when he heard it. His eyes searching for any sign of movement on the flat upper deck of the barn, it certainly got the attention of the horses, even the chickens squabbled for a moment, then they soon settled. After a few grueling moments passed, he suspected the horses might have kicked against the barn wall, he heard that many times over the years, and placed a hand over his pounding chest, and took long stressful breaths. Thinking it was his imagination, he relaxed back on the pillow.
There was a bang!
A sharp echoing bang. “Who’s there?” Lachy called out, this time he was standing flat on his feet. He waited, listening. He tossed his hands up, as he heard a creaking sound, coming from the beams above his head.
‘Block thine ears to the howl of the beast. Do not leave Sacred Ground, or thou whilst perish,’ he recalled Mulish say. He wasn’t exactly sure what perish meant, but he wasn’t exactly keen to find out. He sat down on the side of the bed, with all sorts of wild thoughts running through his mind. Was it the flying creature, or was it the Warlock? And worst yet, which one was friend, and which one meant him harm?
Lachy leaned his back against the pillow and propped his feet up on the bed, he wasn’t about to fall asleep now, his mind was flooded with wicked images of all he’d seen early in the evening. The big bird had warned him of the Warlock coming, and he considered that the big bird could have killed him, if it wanted to the first night they met, in his backyard, by the treehouse. Where Lachy fell, and mysteriously awoke in his room. Shock chills were itching over his arms, just how did he get back to his room, without his father hearing or waking to the commotion it would have taken, if the creature had taken him there, himself. He couldn’t have. It would be impossible. The large bird wouldn’t even fit through the door.
Lachy’s mind retreated to the Warlock. He wasn’t one bit friendly, with those bone-chilling eyes of fury, and lethal fireballs. He was still scorned by the fact that the Warlock did threaten to hit Lachy with his stick. What if he thought Lachy was with the big bird, and saw him as an enemy, too? Lachy sighed out loud and decided that he wanted nothing to do with either of them, it made his head hurt too much to think about it, he had nothing to go on, to decide who he wanted to trust. There was no reason to believe they were real. In the real world Lachy was growing up in, those things didn’t exist, people would think you weren’t right in the head, if you said so. His thoughts were interrupted by a stream of knocks that grew louder and more aggressive with every punch, until it became an incisive hammering.
He sprung upright, as he heard a screech. Terror, horror, and panic ripped through his veins, and he pulled his hands up and covered his ears, with wild painting breathes. The screeching was followed by scratching, clawing, and horrible guttural grunts. The horses neighed below him, bucking and kicking against the barn walls, it was terrifyingly alarming, the chickens went into a frenzy of clucking, the rooster broke into a stream of cock-a-doodle-doos, even the cows down in the field broke into a song of excited mooing.
“Stop it! Stop it!” Lachy screamed, with two palms pressed against his ears. “I will not come out.”
Then it all went silent.
Lachy had a sneaky suspicion that the creature, or Warlock, which ever it was, couldn’t come in. He was suddenly very thankful for Mulish Schmidt, and his razor-sharp instincts to create a Sacred Barn, just when Lachy needed one. As the moments drudged on, the animals started to settle, and he was grateful for that, too. The fearsome noises were difficult to distinguish with his ears deafened by terrified livestock. He sat alone in the dim lit barn and worried about the Amish. Was the creature knocking on their house, too? He hoped it was leaving them alone, wishing with everything he had inside of him, that it would give up, and vanish. The silence had lasted a good fifteen consecutive minutes, and Lachy finally caught his breath. He rested back on the bed, and was far from relaxing, he couldn’t see any way clear to closing his eyes, to trusting that the creature wouldn’t find a loophole and break inside. He rolled over to the sound of a soft knock, and immediately assumed, it was the creature, trying a softer, trickier approach. “Go away!” Lachy screamed out.
It knocked again.
“I said, GO AWAY!”
“Draculoc, I am here.”
“Is that you making all the racket?” Lachy replied, sharply.
“The Warlock is on the barn roof.” The voice replied, with a heavy breath.
Lachy’s eyes opened wide. All along he was rooting for it to be the creature. At least he understood it wouldn’t harm him, and the Warlock, well the jury was still out on that subject. “Can you see him?”
“Yes.”
“What does he want?”
“Draculoc.”
“Why?”
“That is for Horace Wulf to explain.”
“You sound just like Mulish Schmidt, and just about as stubborn as he is, too.” There was a subtle laughter in his mind. “Is he gonna get me?”
“The David Star protects young Draculoc.”
Lachy released his caged breath. “Does it protect me from you?” There was laughter again and Lachy crunched up his nose, bewildered. “Why is that funny?”
“It is I, who requires protection from you,” the voice said, and it didn’t sound as though there was a hint of humor behind it.
“Now who’s being funny?” Lachy replied, with a giggle. “You’re bigger than a plane. I’m just a kid.”
“Do not underestimate yourself, Draculoc.”
“Why do you call me that?”
Silence.
“Come back?” Lachy said. “I don’t want to be alone.”
“I am busy.”
“Doing?”
“Watching over you.”
“What is the Warlock doing now?”
“He climbs the wall, in search of a weak point.”
“Is there a weak point?”
“No.”
“He has cool moves, are you sure about that?” Lachy asked, remembering the Warlock’s impressive flip on the street.
“Do you still think him Superior?” The voice asked.
This time it was Lachy who offered the silence.
“Young Draculoc? Answer.”
“No.” Lachy said. “Not until you tell me who you are?”
“I did. From behind your treehouse.”
“Well. Tell me again. I forget.”
“Ferus Atra, a Thunderbird of Amphithere Ser
pent Deity.”
“Are you a Serpent?”
“Of the Serpent Deity. I am Thunderbird.”
Lachy’s face went blank. “When I went to the Andes one summer with my father, he was looking for dinosaur bones.” Lachy said, looking down at his arm and his voice trailed. Strangely it was still glowing, he thought it was brighter than before, but then again, the barn was really dark and probably made it look that way. “My dad says dinosaurs could fly, and they were just about as big as you. Are you a dinosaur?”
“Do not ask, what I cannot answer,” the voice said. “Would you like a riddle?”
“Sure! Why not!” Lachy replied looking around the dim lit loft where he sat, having Ferus Atra on the outside, watching over him, warmed over Lachy, if he was going to pick a bodyguard, he couldn’t think of a better choice, than a member of the Serpent Deity, especially one that looked like a dinosaur.
“A mighty beast that can breathe, yet it has no lungs, it can eat, yet it has no mouth, no tongue. It does not live, yet it can grow, and seethe, and when the food’s gone, it leaves. It will die if you give it a drink, yet it can cause mighty ships to sink. What ‘am I?”
Lachy closed one eye, and concentrated on the words.. “A really big shark.”
“No.”
“A big killer whale?”
“NO.”
“A tree?”
“Young Draculoc, you surely cannot be serious?”
“What is it then?” Lachy asked, shaking his head.
“When you guess I will show you, who I am.”
“Heard that one before. Lameo!” Lachy laughed, guessing the voice didn’t get the joke, he was thinking of the story of Rumpelstiltskin, asking the girl in the story to guess his name.
“Would you like another?”
“Sure go ahead.” Lachy said, feeling his skin start to crawl, there were small hammering sounds against the shutter. There was a fear inside that loft with Lachy, a lonely desolate fear, it was a like an unwanted guest, who was bigger than you, than everything, and you couldn’t make it leave, no matter how hard you tried.
“Riddle me this? What is that you cannot see, but watch it so bend a tree. It plays tricks on you and steals your hat, it has enormous strength, and yet at times, be as gentle as a cat?”
“Oh that’s easy, it’s the wind.” Lachy laughed, in spite of the tension gnawing at his gut.
“Indeed. Very good Draculoc.”
“The Warlock’s gone quiet. Did he leave?”
“No.”
Lachy thought of the two of them flying over his head, toward the mountaintop and it suddenly occurred to him, that Ferus could have been killed. “Did the Warlock hurt you?”
“No.” There was a strange sort of laughter purring in the back of Lachy’s mind. “One measly little Warlock, such easy prey.”
“Is your battle with him over?”
“That is unknown, as we’ve feuded for over three hundred years.”
“Man! You are old.” Lachy said, and grinned when he heard the chuckle.
“Hay can you pop on over and check on my dad? I don’t want him to worry.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It is forbidden.”
“By who? Just who gets to tell a million pound flying dinosaur what he can and can’t do?”
“There are rules, young Draculoc.”
“Since you named me, I think I’m going to name you.”
“Very well.”
“Your name is Ferus.” He said. “What does it mean?”
“In Latin, it means Fierce.”
Lachy smiled. “Yeah. They named you well, didn’t they?”
“I suppose they did, yes.”
“Ferus? Will the Warlock be gone by morning?” Lachy asked, with his eyes drawing heavy.
“But of course.”
“How do you know?”
“I will remove him.”
“I’m so tired.”
“Rest now young Draculoc, I will watch over you, for all the days of your life.” With that Lachy blinked a final blink, as warm safe feeling had risen up inside him, and sleep finally took him.
--
Morning came with the sounds of barn doors opening and the slosh of water, being poured. Lachy’s eyes blinked open and he gazed around, at first unsure of where he was, regrettably it all came charging back to him and he rolled over with a dreadful moan.
“Pleasant morning.” A voice called up.
“Pleasant morning. Is that you Jakob?”
“Yes.” He replied. “Mother has prepared the breakfast.”
When he didn’t hear anything further, Lachy decided he’d better get up. He had not once in his entire life, beaten an Amish out of bed, and expected it must be about 5 am. He took a quick look at his watch, and grinned, right on the dot. He suspected they would consider it rude if he missed breakfast, and he eagerly hopped up, giving the quilt a smooth over the bed, and fluffed the pillow before he headed toward the stairs. He was a little excited to see what Mulish’s Lomey made for breakfast, as he eagerly climbed down the ladder, and immediately went to help Jakob refill the bucket from the well.
“He’s a fine young man.” Mulish’s Lomey said to her husband, with her arms wrapped around her waist watching the boys as they returned from the well. “Go to, go to, whilst the foods hot.”
The Amish home, smelled like a piece of heaven as Lachy removed his shoes at the door, and inhaled with delight. Lachy’s biggest breakfast that he could remember was on his birthday day one year, when his dad took him to a truck stop, they called it brunch, all you could eat pancakes, eggs, bacon, home fries and steak. This smelled so much more, wholesome. Lachy had no idea where he was going, so he simply followed Jakob’s lead as he obeyed his mother’s order to wash up for breakfast. After they dried up their hands and faces, they headed into the dinning room and took a seat at the long wooden table. The entire house felt like a scene from an old movie, rustic furniture, that was well crafted, sturdy and made with real, solid wood. Mulish’s Lomey had fresh cut flowers in every room, and everything was perfectly straight, neat and tidy. There wasn’t anything that was modern, but put all together, Lachy thought everything looked, cosy, and charming. They sat at the table and watched with interest as they folded their hands. When he heard Mulish Schmidt grunt his way, he hid a smile, and folded hands, closing his eyes.
Lachy could hardly contain himself, the look of the spread made his mouth water, and the aromas were making his stomach grumble, all through the prayers of grace. There were fried eggs, and raisin oatmeal in large round bowls. Mulish Schmidt had heaped his plate with applesauce, and Lachy noticed that Jerry had heaped his cornmeal mush with ketchup.
“Would you like a slice of shoofly pie?” Mulish’s Lomey’s asked in her German dialect. Lachy shook his head yes, along with Jakob, and she sliced the boys a piece and gingerly slipped it on their plates.
Lachy dug in eagerly, and the first bite, his eyes opened wide, and said, “Mmmmmm.. this is so delicious.”
Mulish’s Lomey’s bonnet ducked down and she nodded her head, with a smile. “Such a healthy boy, with a good appetite,” she said. “Blessed be that you are here.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Lachy said, taking a drink of milk, it went down smooth and had a rich taste, it was fresh from the cow, and the cream was thick on the top. Lachy giggled when he realized it gave him a white moustache, and he wiped it with the back of his hand.
“I will maketh thou a sweet sac for thine to take home,” she said, with a warm smile.
“Thank you Mulish’s Lomey, I would love that.” He said, grinning, wishing she was the one who made his lunches for school, but he didn’t say it, he had nearly forgotten that Jakob and Jerry had never seen the inside of a school. He hoped in his heart that one day, he would have a family like this one, with a mom that can cook. He helped clear the table along with the boys, and Mulish’s Lomey had passed him a sac that smelled, dare Lach
y think, even better than the shoofly pie, he had for breakfast, and he headed into the yard.
“I really should get home, Mulish Schmidt, my father will be awake soon.” Mulish nodded to Jakob who was granted permission Lachy assumed, to let him through the gate. “Thank you for rescuing me.. I mean. Saving me. I mean.”
“Go with God’s blessings my son. The Lamb’s blood will remain until the danger has passed.” He said, eyeing him from under his hat.
Lachy thought he understood his meaning, and nodded his head. He and Jakob passed a few lame jokes on their way to the gate, as Lachy walked his bike down the long narrow drive. He stopped and turned facing the farm house, and waved a good-bye to Mulish’s Lomey, who had waved to him every step they walked.
Lachy startled Jacob when he jumped up with surprise, there was a rider coming their way. “Jake! Jake! Over here!” Lachy hollered out.
Jake slammed on the brakes. “Hay Jakob, how’s it going?”
“Pleasant days,” Jakob said, with a smile.
“Jakob doesn’t ride a bicycle, but he’s got a wicked scooter.” Lachy said, and grinned when Jakob’s chest stuck out a little.
“Cool stuff.” Jake said, “I have a scooter too, it’s at home.”
“They are very fine.” Jakob said, and he hesitated, glancing backward.
Lachy knew what that meant, they were allowed to have swift greetings, but nothing more. “We’ll see you later Jakob,” Lachy said with a wave. Jakob had already locked the gate and was walking along the straight drive to the barns.
“What were you doing there?” Jake asked, glancing over his shoulder. “I thought they didn’t welcome outsiders.”
Sleeping beneath the Star of David, Lachy thought to himself, but he didn’t say it. “Who won the game?” Lachy asked, he nearly had forgotten about the finals, it had seemed a life time ago.
“We won, 33 to 14. They disqualified most of the Daniels after you left. Their dad, I mean, their Coach insisted they could beat us with a hand tied behind their backs and Coach Franklin accepted his challenge, but we whooped their butts.”
Lachy smiled, then he frowned worriedly. “Did they get revenge on you?”
“They didn’t have time. Duke Daniels had to go the Lancaster Emergency Clinic. Congrats Lachy, you made the world record, you broke two Daniel’s boys arms, all in one day.”
Lachy shook his head. But he kept his comments to himself.
“What is that smell. It’s making my tummy rumble.”
“Sweet cooking from Mulish’s Lomey’s oven.”
“Oh man, you so gotta share.”
“Come over to my place, I have a lot to tell you.” Lachy said, as he started to peddle faster. He could have sworn he heard a branch crack in the nearby forest, and this time he wasn’t taking any chances. “Hurry it up Jake, the woods aren’t safe, anymore.” As Lachy peddled he had a strange sensation, of quiet. His mind felt empty, like something had been plucked out of it, and then he realized what was wrong. The voice. The dinosaur’s voice, it was gone. The presence inside his head, had given him such comfort, security, and now that they were riding along Orchard Ave, without Ferus, fear chilled out all over him, inside and out. The dead calm inside his mind was disturbing him, deeply, and he wondered where the dinosaur had gone, trying to avoid fearing the worst. The worst he could think of, was that he was unsuccessful, and fell at the hand of the Warlock. The boys stopped dead in their tracks, things in his yard looked, different.
Lachy was staring at the yard, feeling the life drain out of his face, his entire body, worse yet, his entire being. His dad’s truck was gone, and things were a mess. Jake ran across the yard, his eyes were wide with shock, along with Lachy. Then Lachy stepped on something squishy and soft, it was a dark chocolate color, and was about a foot and a half wide.
“What the? Is that real?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know.” Lachy replied, trying to figure out which end to pick up. It was the biggest feather Lachy had ever seen, it was so huge that it took him some time to work out what it was, and after that riddle was solved, he didn’t need to guess where it came from. The sight of it made his heart sink to his feet, and he bit back tears, panic-stricken with worry, fearing how Ferus had lost it.
“Wow that’s wicked. It looks about six feet long.” Jake said, running his fingers along the rim of it. Then his eyes shifted to the furthest reach of the backyard. “What happened to the treehouse?”
“I don’t know.” Lachy said, his mind going blank. The old oak was literally ripped out of the ground, and the treehouse was smashed into pieces.
“Why are there burn marks all over the grass in the front yard?”
Jake was perceptive, Lachy would give him that. He gazed around his yard, as if a natural disaster had shell-shocked him into a nightmare of reality, one you never recover from. He worried about his father, Ferus, and then a thought occurred to him, and his fear of the Warlock made him all the more tense, nervous. He must have found Lachy’s father, maybe that’s why there was a mess, and his father was gone. “I said, I don’t know.” Lachy snapped at Jake, sounding nasty, he didn’t meant to sound nasty, and he softened his tone. “Come on. We better get inside. It’s not safe out here.”
“Stop kidding around.” Jake started to laugh, and then he frowned worriedly. “Hay Lachy, you.. you don’t look good.”
“I don’t feel good.” He replied, with a hand over his forehead.
“Come on let’s get inside.” Jake said, dragging the feather along behind him. “What do you want to do?”
“Go on the internet, we have some research to do.”
Jake was nodding. “About what?”
“Where this came from.” Lachy said, looking at the feather. He turned away form Jake, reaching into his pocket, and felt a hard smooth object. He pulled it out and looked at it inquisitively, in all that happened last night, he’d forgotten about the emerald stone on a chain that he found.
“What is that?” Jake asked, tilting his head.
“I found it on the road,” Lachy replied. “We need to research it, too.”
Lachy hesitated with his hand on the doorhandle before he dared take a step inside, and his arms prickled all over. “Be really quiet.” He whispered to Jake, and noticed Jake’s mood had turned cooler. He was a breath away from Lachy’s back, and the horror of the night replayed inside his mind. This time he intended to tell Jake everything, he would share with him, all the terror, and dreadful things he saw, starting with the red eyes that glowed the first night. That voice who spoke to him, inside his mind. He only hoped that Jake would believe him, that he wouldn’t laugh it off, as ridiculous, or impossible. It was possible. It happened. It was real.
Stepping inside the house gave Lachy a cool uneasy feeling, the outside was such a horrid mess, but inside, it pretty much looked the same, however, it didn’t feel the same. He crept toward the kitchen first, before they headed upstairs. Anxiety coiled inside him, like a twisted snake, there was no note from his dad, everything was just how they left it, yesterday. A spark of worry gnawed at him, as he knew his dad wasn’t normally up at this hour, not out and on the road. It could mean that his dad left, late last night, and hadn’t come back yet. That was completely out of character for his father, he’d never left Lachy home alone, for more than a few hours, and never once at night.
He tilted his head toward the patio doors, as a rustling breeze recklessly turned into a windstorm of dirty, ugly weather. It shook the entire house, everything on the shelves were rattling, and there were eerie cracks, and strange scraping sounds against the back of the house. He ran toward the bottom of the stairs, calling Jake to hurry. The sun, and sky were covered over by dark clouds, and there was a sudden unholy rumble of thunder, booming in the distance. Lachy stopped short on the first step, he heard a sound he least likely dreamt he’d hear again, a sound so familiar it was as though he were being greeted by an old friend. He was so entranced he didn’t even realize that Jake
bumped into his backside.
“Did anyone ever tell you, that you sound just like James Earl Jones?” Lachy asked, because it suddenly occurred to him that it was true. The voice offered no comment to that statement, but all in all, it was such a comfort that it had returned. The emptiness inside his mind bubbled over with joy, until he realized what it had said. “He will return.”