Tiger by the Tail
Authors: Eric Walters
To Mary, Walter and Russ:
three people who not only have tigers by the tail but also in their hearts.
— E.W.
“Nick, do you have
any idea
where you’re going?” I asked.
“Of course I do, Sarah. I’m going
this
way,” he answered as he ducked down and disappeared under the fence.
The fence was high, way above my head, solid wood, peeling paint, topped off with a few strands of rusty barbed wire. I bent down, turned sideways and eased my head and shoulders under the fence. My brother was walking away.
“Nicholas, come back here! We can’t just walk through somebody’s property!”
He turned to face me. “Look around. Do you think anybody cares if we walk through here?”
He did have a point. He was standing in what looked like an abandoned field. Instead of crops there were scattered weeds poking out of the rutted and sun-baked soil. Nobody had farmed this land for a while.
“Still, we shouldn’t be cutting across somebody else’s property. Let’s just go back and go home along the road,” I suggested.
“Sarah, you’re my older sister … not my mother. Our house is
that
way,” he said pointing in the direction he had been walking. “And if we don’t take this shortcut,
that storm is going to get to us before we get to our house.”
Storm clouds were racing in from the east. Winds were picking up. The air was suddenly cooler and we could see lightning and hear thunder in the distance.
I didn’t want to follow him, but I didn’t want to get soaked in the storm. “I guess we have to go your way.”
“Good, maybe we can get home before we get wet.”
“Wet isn’t what I’m worried about, Nicholas.”
“It’s July, Sarah, so I don’t think it’s going to snow,” Nick said in his snarkiest voice. He had a smart-aleck answer for everything.
“I’m worried about … tornadoes,” I practically whispered.
“Tornadoes!”
“Be quiet!” I said
“Be quiet? Why, do you think if you say it too loud, one will show up?” Nick laughed.
“Yes … I mean, no. I mean … just be quiet. You know this is tornado country.”
“Since when?”
“Two weeks ago a tornado touched down just a few kilometres from here.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Of course I am. It damaged some crops and overturned a hay wagon. I read it in the paper.”
While we’d been talking the sky had darkened and
the wind had picked up. I anxiously scanned the horizon for funnel clouds.
“Get going and I’ll follow,” I said.
Nick started off and I trailed behind him.
“Do you really know where you’re going?” I questioned.
“Of course. I’m walking through an abandoned field.”
“But …”
“Don’t worry, sis, it’s all under control.”
The wind was now so strong it was pushing us along. Little pieces of dried-up stalks and leaves and dirt hurled through the air as we moved. It was getting darker. There was a flash of lightning, so bright that it lit up the sky, followed almost instantly by a clap of thunder.
I remembered from science class that if a burst of lightning and the sound of the thunder are that close together, a storm is almost on top of you. Another jagged strip of lightning flashed, and in that second I caught sight of Nick’s face. He looked as scared as I felt. I braced for another explosion of thunder, then the first few drops of rain began to fall.
“We’re not going to make it,” Nick said. He couldn’t even pretend to be brave now. So maybe I had to be for both of us.
“Let’s move it.”
Nick started sprinting and then stopped suddenly, turning to face me. “Sarah, I can’t remember, is it better to have on rubber-soled shoes or not?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“The lightning, the lightning! I remember reading that it won’t hit you if you have rubber on the bottom of your shoes … or was it that if you had rubber on the bottom of your shoes you
would
get hit? I can’t remember!”
“I don’t know,” I answered, trying to remain calm in the face of his panic.
More flashes of lightning, immediately followed by the crashes of thunder.
“Maybe we should …” My mind raced ahead for an answer, “… maybe we should take off
one
of our shoes. Then at least we’ll be safe half the time.” As I said this I realized it was a ridiculous suggestion, but Nick was so scared he didn’t even question me. He bent down and took off his left running shoe. I did the same with my left sandal.
“We’re not going to make it home,” I said. “Maybe we can find some shelter. Come on!”
Nick fell in behind me. We raced across the bumps and ridges of the open field. The crusty ground was becoming damp and soft and I knew that once the rain really got going this whole field would be mud. At that instant the rain started to come down in earnest. We ran even harder, but within steps I was soaked and my clothes clung to my body. A flash of lightning seared the sky above us.
“Look!” Nick screamed. “Up ahead!”
Through the heavy rain and the darkness I could make out the outline of what looked like a barn. We headed straight for it. Soon we were stumbling out of the field and onto a gravel driveway. It led straight up to the building. It was good not to be running in the mud anymore but the stones hurt my one bare foot.
“Don’t slow down!” Nick screamed as he raced past me, then stopped right in front of the old barn. It towered over us; two storeys high, weathered old grey boards, vines growing up the sides and a large door, closed.
“Let’s get inside!” he hollered over the noise of the rain pounding against the barn’s tin roof.
“We can’t just go inside. It doesn’t belong to us!”
“Give me a break! I’m going inside. You can stand out here until you get hit by lightning for all I care!” he screamed.
I stood there watching. Nick pushed against the door. It wouldn’t open. He moved first to one side and then the other. He found a smaller door and disappeared from view.
“Nicholas!” I ran after him to discover him calmly sitting inside the barn on a bale of hay.
“We shouldn’t be here without permission,” I reminded him, trying my best to imitate Mom.
“Yeah, Sarah, right. Who do you think we’re going to get permission from? A ghost? Besides, I’ve got a bigger problem.”
“What?” I asked with concern.
“My sock. Somewhere out there the mud sucked it off my foot.” He held up his bare, muddy size seven.
“
That’s
your problem?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yeah. Mom said that the next time I lost anything she’d make me pay. I’ve got better things to do with my allowance than buy socks.”
I sat down on another bale of hay and put my sandal back on. The other sandal was unrecognizable beneath a layer of mud.
“I hope this storm stops soon. We don’t want anybody to come along and find us,” I said.
“Find us? Look around. There hasn’t been anybody in here for a long time.”
I let my eyes scan the building. There were so many missing boards that the gaps in the walls let the light in from the outside. But those same gaps let in more than just light. I could also feel a steady spray from the rain. It was drier, but not dry.
Over in one corner there was some broken-down, old machinery. Three old, rusty bikes hung up on one wall. Right beside us was a pile of old tires and a worn-out couch, partially covered in plastic. Beams criss-crossed the roof, and all sorts of ropes hung down.
The floor was covered with a thin layer of dirty straw and there were a few bales of hay off to one side. The
noise of the rain hitting the tin roof was punctuated by the sound of boards, only partially attached, clapping in the wind.
I stood up. “Nick, what do you think …” As I turned around I realized he wasn’t where he’d been sitting. He’d wandered off while I was busy peering around the barn.
“Nick …” I called out hesitantly. There was no answer. “Nick …” I called again, this time louder.
There was no reply, only the steady drumming of the rain, which seemed to be getting louder. I stood up and took a few steps, but stopped as my muddy sandal thickened with a layer of straw and mud on its sole.
“Oh, great,” I muttered. I tried to wipe it off against the floor. Instead, more straw became attached. It looked like a welcome mat that was stuck to the bottom of my foot. I leaned against a beam, rubbing the bottom of my sandal until most of the mud and straw plopped to the floor.
I felt the floor sag underneath my feet. I pressed my foot down hard and the floor gave way slightly. I bent down and brushed back the straw. There was wood beneath, but it was soft and wet and I was able to dig into it with my finger.
“Nicholas, where are you?” I yelled.
“Down here!” he answered.
“Where?”
“Over here.”
I caught sight of movement. It was Nick’s head poking out from what appeared to be a passage to a lower level.
“Over here, there are stairs leading below. The rain isn’t coming in down here.”
I moved until I stood right above him and fixed him with my best angry glare, the one Mom uses. I swear it can peel paint off a wall.
“Nicholas Fraser, you get right back up here this instant!”
He looked at me and cocked his head slightly to one side. “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“No … as in the opposite of yes. Come on, Sarah, there’s nothing wrong with exploring a little. Besides, it’s dry down here and safe. Don’t you remember? When there’s a tornado it’s best to go into a basement.”
“Tornado? What tornado?” I questioned. “You said there wasn’t any tornado.”
“Me? What do I know about tornadoes? I’m just a ten-year-old kid, remember? All I know is I’ve never seen lightning or heard rain like this before in my life.”
I looked around. It was now almost as black as night outside and the sound of the rain against the roof was deafening.
“Come on, Sarah. It’s only partially underground. There are windows that let in some light, but be careful on the steps,” Nick said as he started down again.
The stairs were steep, crooked and old. They were covered with loose straw. I held onto the thin, old railing and carefully descended the steps. With each step I moved down, a shiver ran up my spine. I reached the bottom and looked around. It was much darker than up above. While there were a few windows, they were caked over with dirt and grime, and only a little light leaked in. My eyes hadn’t time to adjust to the darkness and I could hardly see anything except shadows.
What I did notice was the difference in the air. Upstairs, wind blew through the cracks and gaps but here it seemed trapped. The air was stale and still. It was also warmer. It was good to get away from the din of the rain. The noise still made its way down the rickety old stairs, but it was almost quiet here.
Soon my eyes were able to pick up more than just shadows. I could make out lines and edges and shades of grey. The walls were lined with empty stalls, bars embedded in a low concrete wall. The bars were rusty and chipped but I could see flecks of their once silver paint. Pieces of straw were suspended in the hundreds of cobwebs strung between the bars.
“Look at all the bales of hay in this basement,” my brother said.
I looked over at him. “This isn’t a basement, Nick. It’s called a stable.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
He hated me correcting him — almost as much as I
loved
doing it.
Nick waded into a thick pile of hay that was almost waist deep. Behind him were bales, carefully piled to the ceiling. I walked over until I was standing at the edge of the scattered pile.
“Here, CATCH!” Nick screamed as he threw a handful of straw up into the air, but missed my face. He shrieked and threw himself backwards into the pile, wriggling down into it until he disappeared from view.
I could make out a wave of movement through the straw as he burrowed under it, toward me. I backed up. I wasn’t going to let him sneak up on me. When he broke through, I’d give him a little tap on the top of his head with my foot. He kept moving closer. I could see the straw parting, but still couldn’t see him underneath it. The bump moved closer and closer. I drew back my foot. I was going to give him a good one. I raised my foot and the straw parted and … I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. I watched in horror as a snake — a large, brown snake as thick as my arm — came out of the straw … curving and undulating … right under my raised foot … and as the head passed under me, more and more snake kept coming and coming and coming until the tail appeared and then disappeared. My whole body shuddered and I spun around, still standing on one foot as the snake disappeared into the darkness.
“Nick,” I said, his name pushing feebly free. I lowered my foot and took a small step backwards.
“Nick,” I called out, this time a little louder. I took another small step backwards, my eyes still fixed on the spot where the snake had vanished into the gloom. Why hadn’t my brother answered? Was he all right?
“NIICCHHOLLAASS!” I screamed so loud that I felt it in my ears, and then, like peddling a bike, I raced backwards across the barn until I thumped against a cattle stall, my feet going out from under me so that I slid down the bars until I sat on the straw-littered floor.
Nick popped his head up out of the straw. “What’s wrong now, Sarah,” he asked with disdain. “Are you going to tell me I have to clean up the place’cause I made such a mess?”
I raised my hand to point to where the snake had gone. “A s-s-s-snake,” I stammered.
“A snake? You yelled like that because of a snake?”
“Big … snake,” I said in broken English.
“Big? Where did it go?” he asked as he stood up and started to wade out of the pile. “Maybe I can catch it. How big was it?”
As I opened my mouth to answer I felt something on the back of my neck. A burst of hot air … and then another … and then another. I wanted to turn around, to look, but my head wouldn’t listen and my eyes remained fixed. Another burst of air … like a breath, and then a
sound, like puffing. Something — soft and gentle but definitely
something
— touched my shoulder.
“Where did it go, Sarah?”
Nick’s words broke my trance. Slowly, ever so slowly, I started to move. My back remained against the bars and I turned my head. There, just centimetres away, on the other side of the bars, were two large, golden glowing eyes.
