I wanted to go to the swamp after breakfast. I had things to do there, but Dad was already prickly about the gun and because I'd left the sprinklers on in the garden, so I helped pick peas and pull onions. When I pushed the garden cart up to the washing station I heard the bluebirds twittering around the bird house. That could only mean one thing. I ran to the shed and got a burlap sack. A big black snake, longer than I was tall, was under the bird house, starting to crawl up the pole. I got him behind the head and put him in the sack, tail first, then tied it shut. I wished I could take him down the creek road on my bike, far enough away that he wouldn't be back, but Dad would notice if I went missing that long, so I hauled the sack to the front field and dumped the snake out, hoping it would give the baby birds a few more days before he came back. Maybe they'd fly by then.
I saw the Watchers again on my way back, five of them, squatting around the old sink hole at the top of the field next to the woods. The sink hole was a creepy place. There were old pieces of rusted metal in it that someone had thrown out long ago, and slimy mosses clinging to the sides that smelled really rank. One time I saw a frog with five legs jump out of it.
Maybe the Watchers lived in the sink hole. I didn't look at them directly, but threw glances their way. All I could see was dark shapes. The sun never seemed to shine on them - they were like black ink blobs that absorbed all the light and turned it into something vile. I wasn't sure if they knew I could see them or not. I figured it was better to pretend I couldn't. It might help me learn what they were up to. I ran down to the pasture gate, the hairs on my neck prickling because I was sure they were watching me. Out of breath, I stopped at the big oak tree just beside the gate. I felt safe there.
The little brown man was sitting under the tree in his usual place. I'd seen him there many times as far back as I could remember. He always wore a grey vest with fringes on it and a pair of short pants made of small pieces of cloth stitched together like a quilt. His hair was long and tangled, his face wrinkled like an old dried apple. He was pretty ugly, but I thought he looked wise, and there was a peacefulness about him. I often saw him sewing bits of cloth together with a wooden needle and coarse thread. Sometimes I left rags under the tree for him. We'd never spoken, but if our eyes happened to meet, he would turn his head and squint sideways at me in a way that seemed friendly. Today he was winding a ball of thread onto a spindle, carefully working the knots out with his fingers. As I started to pass, he raised a finger and I stopped.
"It's because of what was put into the ground there. That's why you see them." His voice was gravelly, like he hadn't spoken in a long time.
He went back to winding the thread, and I stood there, thinking. Was he talking about the Watchers?
"Are they bad?" I asked.
He was silent a long time, and I thought he wasn't going to speak again. But finally he said, "Their element was disturbed. Now they're out of place."
That didn't sound too good. I wanted to ask more, but I had to help Dad dig potatoes, and when I went back after lunch, the little brown man was gone.
I decided to work on the Peoples' Agricultural Project, PAP. I found two buckets and a plastic scoop that was part of a ball-tossing game I'd gotten on my last birthday, and headed out to the tunnel through the hedge. It stretched along the fence line between the garden and the pasture, down the hill to the swamp. I used it when I didn't want Dad to see me and give me more chores to do. Plus now I had the Watchers to worry about.
The Hedge Queen met me at the entrance, wearing her filthy old dress with the raveling hem. She had belted it up with some twists of honeysuckle, but it still hung like a sack.
"Rent", she said, thrusting her hand in my face and rubbing her knobby thumb and fingers together.
I pulled two of Glen's teething biscuits from my pocket and handed them over. The Queen eyed them suspiciously. They'd gotten a bit damp and the corners were mushy.
"Who's been chewing on them?"
"No one", I said.
She pursed her lips. "What about the striped sticks? I want more of those."
She meant the candy canes. I'd found them stashed in the attic with the Christmas decorations.
"Tomorrow", I promised. I could see her face taking on that sourpuss look and added, "I could probably bring some chocolate, too. And a mirror."
"Well", she said, poking at her snarled hair. A flea jumped out. "Don't forget. It's a real inconvenience having you traipse through here all the time. It disturbs my subjects no end." She put the biscuits in her pocket and gave a shrill whistle to let the hedge people know I was coming, otherwise I'd be all scratched up and bloody, with burrs in my hair and spider webs stuck to my clothes by the time I reached the end of the tunnel. I crouched down and humped along through the dim shadows in a half-crawl, half-duck walk. The buckets and scoop slowed me down, but I wan't in a hurry. I could hear the hedge people tapping and whistling in the honeysuckle. I didn't disturb them. I wanted to stay on their good side in case I ever needed a favor.
At the swamp there were hundreds of tadpoles wiggling in the shrinking puddles, trying to stay wet. We hadn't had rain for quite awhile. Last spring I had dug out a small area to make a deeper trough that would hole water longer. I worked as fast as I could, scooping tads and transferring them to the deeper water, putting some into my buckets. But I knew I couldn't save them all. I felt sad for all those frogs and toads that would never have a change to grow up and hop around. If only we'd get a giant rain. But then the potatoes and onions would rot, and the tomato plants would get diseased, and Dad would be in a bad mood. I scooped up some algae for the tads to eat, then went up the hill with my filled buckets.
I had three flying saucer sleds set up around the garden, plus two more holes I'd dug and lined with plastic. I emptied my buckets of tadpoles into the mini ponds. The frogs would hop down to the creek when they grew legs, but the toads would stay and eat bugs in the garden.
Mom called me up to the house. She had Glen on her hip.
"I have to run to the store," she said. "Will you watch Glenny for me? I won't be gone more than an hour. Dad's in the barn if you need him."
"Okay", I said. It would hamper my work, but I could manage. After Mom left I heaved Glen into his stroller and strapped him in. He was a very fat baby and weighed about a ton. We started out the drive and the Old Man came with us. When we got to the cane patch along the creek road I parked Glen in the shade and gave him a cookie. I figured I had maybe five minutes before he started to fuss.
The Old Man dug up a mole and started running in circles around it, growling and snorting. Good, that would keep Glen entertained.
I got to work cutting cane. I wanted to make teepees over the mini ponds so the water wouldn't get too hot in the sun. My knife wasn't very sharp. I only got three pieces cut before Glen started hollering.
"Just two more, Glen," I said. I ran the stroller around in circles a few times, getting him to laugh, then went back to work. I spotted an extra large stalk of cane and went over to it, hacking at the base. It took awhile, but I finally got it sawed through. I reached for another stalk but stopped. It was suddenly very quiet. I looked up. Some of the cane dwellers had gathered to watch. They were small, shorter than me, with greenish skin and big ears. They wore cane leaves in their hair and around their waists. Usually they darted through the cane so fast you could hardly see them, but today they stood still, their eyes on something behind me. Goosebumps raised on my arms and I whirled around. I couldn't see the stroller. How had I gotten so far from Glen? I went crashing through the cane and stopped dead in my tracks. Two of the Watchers were bending over Glen. He had fallen asleep. They were going to take him!
"Hey! Hey!" I called out, my voice cracking like an old donkey's. The Watchers stood up. Their faces were blurry and indistinct, their bodies like thick black smoke. I rushed at them, slashing the air with my knife, yelling at the top of my lungs. The Old man came bounding up, growling and snapping at their heels. They back off and melted into the cane. Glen started screaming. I took off running, the stroller bouncing along in front of me, the Old Man loping beside us. By the time we got home Glen had stopped crying. I put him in his highchair and gave him a drink. My arms and legs were like rubber. I was shaking all over. The weight of this terrible danger pressed down on me. I wished I could tell Mom and Dad about it, but I knew I couldn't. They don't see the things I do. They would think I was making up stories and try to send me to summer camp. I would just have to deal with it on my own.
Coming on Saturday - Part 3...
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