Puddlejumpers (23 page)

The moment the twin disappeared down the ladder, Ernie shot up the cellar stairs, cracked the door, and squinted into the harsh glare of the brightly lit kitchen. “Joey…Joey!” he whispered. A door slammed somewhere in the manse. When he heard Axel's angry curse from below, he dashed across the kitchen and slipped out a corner door.

Ernie found himself in a dark garage. He nestled the tiny creature inside his jacket. She was barely conscious. He crept along the wall, his heart almost beating out of his chest. Shouts of alarm and barking sounded from inside the house, and he hoped Joey had gotten away. He heard the whir of a motor. The garage door began to rise. He took cover behind a pile of raccoon and beaver pelts as the Cadillac pulled inside. When the door started back down, he scuttled along the floor and tumbled outside just before it closed.

With two lives in the balance, Ernie sprinted across the courtyard, then tore out across the barren oil fields. The moon was struggling to break through thick clouds, which meant he couldn't see much, but it also meant no one could see him. The wolfhounds' howl faded behind as he raced past the shadowy derricks that stood like angry iron sentinels. Finally he slowed down, for the sake of the creature.

When Ernie looked back, he thought he saw the silhouette of something humongous loping across the field toward him. He started to run. When he looked again, the monstrous shape was only two derricks behind. Cupping his hand against his jacket to protect the creature, he ran as fast as he'd ever run.

He raced along the Frazier boundary fence, looking frantically for the post marked with the carved
X
. In the dark, he couldn't tell one post from another, and he could hear a horrid growl gaining against his every stride. Just when he was sure he wouldn't make it, there it was. He hurdled the fence as the beast crashed through the rails right behind. He felt its rancid breath on his neck just before the bear trap slammed shut with a vicious
thwack!

Losing his cap, Ernie tumbled head over heels through the dirt but bounced to his feet and never lost stride, running to the accompaniment of a jangling cowbell and a bitter howl.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

A Familiar Stranger

E
RNIE RIPPED DOWN
the slope through the dark, never once looking back until he reached the Frazier porch. Struggling for breath, he hovered by the screen door. He could see inside, where Russ was surrounded by bills at the kitchen table. He heard him sigh. Ernie checked inside his jacket. The wounded creature was barely breathing. He needed to do something right away. He repositioned her, then slipped inside.

Russ looked up in surprise when Ernie entered with a studied nonchalance. “Well, Mr. Banks, this is a surprise. What are you doing home?”

“Hey, Russ,” said Ernie casually.

“I thought you two were staying at Gram and Gramp's tonight.”

“Well…uh,” he sputtered, forgetting momentarily where he was supposed to be. “We were, but then Joey had something to do, so we left.”

“Don't be too disappointed. I've learned over the years that girls can be somewhat unpredictable. How'd you get home?”

“Ran, I mean, walked.” Not wanting to answer more questions, he continued into the hall.

“Ernie?”

“Yeah?”

“Come here a sec.”

Folding his arms to cover the bulge in his jacket, Ernie stepped back into the kitchen. His face was flushed, and his tousled hair visible for the first time without his customary Cubs cab.

“You and Joey getting along?”

Ernie shifted uneasily as the creature stirred inside his jacket. “Good enough.”

“She's not giving you a hard time, is she?”

“Nothin'I can't handle.”

“Well, that's good. What you got in your jacket?”

“Um, just a big old toad.”

Russ smiled. “How 'bout a look-see?”

“Could we do it later? He's, uh, sleeping right now.”

“Come here, Ernie.”

Fearing the worst, Ernie walked slowly across the room, but Russ only emptied a shoebox of its receipts and offered it to him. “Just don't let it loose in the house,” he cautioned.

Ernie took the box and escaped down the hall. He rushed into the bathroom and locked the door. He spread a bath towel in the tub, then gently laid the injured creature on top of it. Runnel's once-robust brown skin was pale and sickly, her hair tangled and matted, and her eyes sealed shut. Awed, Ernie knelt over her and whispered, “Can you hear me?”

She didn't move, didn't make a sound. He gently laid a finger in the palm of her tiny hand. “If you can hear me, just squeeze my finger.”

Her eyes fluttered open. They were bright turquoise, but glassy and unfocused.

“Oh, man!” His whole body shook with excitement. Bursting into action, he ran hot water and scoured the medicine cabinet with the hope of re-creating Russ' concoction. “Just hold on. You're safe now—I'm going to help you,” he promised. As he mixed the dark red brew, thoughts of his blood brother tightened his stomach into a knot.
Did she find a way out?
Or
did the Hohapples catch her?

Ernie turned to the creature with his medicine. “Brace yourself,” he warned. “Here comes Mr. Smarts.” He gripped her delicate foot and began to dab a nasty wound in the webbing between her toes. “This stuff is supposed to burn some, you…”

His mouth dropped open and he nearly fell into the tub. Tattooed into the ball of her foot was a spiral, a marking identical to his. It shook him to the core.
What could this little creature have to do with me?

Reeling with the mystery, Ernie finished his doctoring, then prepped the shoebox with a soft hand towel and placed the creature inside. He found an eyedropper in the cabinet, wedged the box under his arm, and peeked out the door. Russ had gone into his bedroom and turned on the radio. It sounded like some kind of weather channel. They were saying it was the tenth straight year of decreasing rain. Ernie hurried to his room, closing the door behind.

He deliberated on a hiding place before putting the shoebox in the crib beneath the red quilt. “Don't worry, I'll be right back,” he reassured, tucking a T-shirt around her. When he looked up, the seven carved figures dangling from the mobile were staring him in the face. One of them looked like the creature in the shoebox. He took another look.
Exactly like her!
Even the clothes were the same. His head spinning, he closed the lid and hurried from the room.

Ernie tiptoed to the kitchen and scanned a list of telephone numbers posted next to the wall phone. Her number was the first one on the list. He dialed, then, with the phone cradled at his ear, got a glass and poured himself some milk. When Betty answered, Ernie took care to disguise his voice. He wished he had Nate's talent for impersonation.

“Hello, is Joey there?” he asked hoarsely.

“Who's calling?”

“Ah, it's…“ he stumbled, surprised by the question. Finally he said, “It's Shawn.”

“Shawn?” she asked suspiciously. “Shawn who?”

Ernie didn't answer. Approaching footsteps forced him to hang up. Trying to look busy, he gulped some milk.

“Did Gramp Atwater show you his old tractors?” asked Russ as he went to the sink to pour himself a glass of water.

“Nope.”

“Well, that's a first,” he said. “So what did you guys do?”

Ernie shrugged. “Just looked around.” He desperately needed to change the subject. “Hey, Russ—you know what time it is?

“Right behind you.” Russ chuckled.

Ernie turned to see a large wall clock. It read 10:05. He turned back to Russ and smiled sheepishly. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Is it okay if I get something to eat?”

“'Course it is. You want me to whip something up? I make a mean grilled cheese.”

“No, thanks.”

“Okay, get a plate, then, help yourself.”

For once, Ernie did as he was told. Rummaging through the fridge, he wondered what his little creature would like to eat. Russ watched, amused, as Ernie grabbed an armful of disparate items: bologna, celery, crackers, sugar cubes, olives, peanut butter, pickles, and cheese.

“Didn't Gram feed you two?”

“Not really,” said Ernie as he grabbed his glass of milk off the counter.

“That's funny, she usually puts out a spread and a half.”

Ernie changed the subject. “Hey, Russ—where'd you get that mobile? The one on the crib.”

“It was a gift.”

“From who?”

“Well, to be honest, I never found out. It's a mystery. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, just wondering.” Ernie shut the fridge with his foot, then slipped into the hall. “Well, good night,” he called over his shoulder.

“Good night,” called Russ as he watched him shuffle down the hall burdened with his late-night feast. He picked a cookie jar off a high shelf. Inside was a felt pouch containing an antique gold pocket watch on a brass chain. Russ clicked the crown to open the lid. He gave the watch a quick wind, and was glad to see that it still worked.

Ernie closed the crib room door with his foot and dumped the food items on the rug. He retrieved the shoebox, then sat cross-legged on the floor next to his bed and took off the lid. The creature was covered with a mishmash of bandages, and Ernie felt a surge of pride over his first-aid work. He tried to feed her a cracker, but she barely looked at it. He tried cheese and peanut butter, bologna and pickles, even the sugar cubes, all to no avail. Finally he filled the eyedropper with milk from his glass and squirted a couple drops into her mouth. She drank it gratefully.

“Oh yes, oh boy, you like it! Yes!”

“Ko, baa,”
she murmured.

Thrilled, he jumped up and flopped back on the bed. The posts gave way and the bed crashed to the floor, nearly crushing the shoebox. Footsteps, a preemptive knock, and Russ was in the room.

“You okay?” he asked with concern.

“I think so,” said Ernie, sitting up. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the creature peeking out of the shoe-box, just inches from Russ' work boot.

“What in the world happened here?”

“I had the toad over on the windowsill,” said Ernie quickly as he eased himself to the edge of the collapsed bed. Waving the eyedropper, he deftly directed Russ' attention to his hand while using a foot to slide the box under the nightstand. “That was after I fed him, of course,” said Ernie in his most innocent voice. “And I was on the bed, showing him how to hop, 'cause he was kind of injured and all, and then the bed just caved in on me, and he hopped away gone and here I am. Sorry about that.”

“Well, don't worry about it. That old frame was bound to go someday,” said Russ, while putting a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Ernie—you sure everything's okay?”

“Oh yeah, and don't worry about that toad. He jumped right out the window. He's probably halfway home by now.”

Russ laughed. “Well, okay, we'll fix the bed up tomorrow. Tonight you get to camp out on the floor. Good night.”

“Night,” said Ernie.

Russ paused on the threshold. He took the gold watch from the pocket of his flannel shirt. “I was thinking…this might help you get to supper on time.” He handed him the watch. Ernie could hardly believe it. Apart from his Cubs cap, it was the first gift he'd ever gotten from somebody he actually knew. At Lakeside, gifts came from people you didn't know, like the Salvation Army. Genuinely touched, he turned the watch over in his hand, unsure what to say.

“It looks really old.”

Russ laughed. “Take good care of it. My dad gave it to me.”

“I will. Thanks, Russ.”

“Sure enough. I hope you put it to good use.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other.

Finally Russ said, “Okay, then, get some sleep,” and started out of the room. “I'll be waking you early. I know you can't wait to meet up with those chickens.”

When the door closed, Ernie made a beeline for the shoebox. The creature opened her eyes and smiled weakly. He smiled back, then fed her a few more squirts of milk. Each drop seemed to give her more strength.

When she finally closed her eyes, Ernie covered her with the T-shirt and whispered, “Sleep tight, pleasant dreams.” He set the lid askew for air, then put the box in the top drawer of the bureau. He checked the time on his new watch and breathed on its face and polished it on his shirt. He admired it one last time before closing the lid. He attached the brass chain to a belt loop on his jeans and tucked the watch in his pocket.

Then he turned out the light and slipped out the window into the night.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Midnight Run

I
T WAS ALMOST
midnight when Ernie found the mailbox painted like a starry night.
Just like Joey said.
He ran up the dirt driveway past a corral and a Jeep parked in front of the modest ranch house. Keeping low to the ground, he crept along the face of the house and peered in a front window. Betty was sitting in front of an easel, painting a picture of a barn.