The Hammer - Cor Series Book I

Chapter 10

Corvan searched frantically through the dirty clothes he had kicked under his bed, but the hammer was not there. The last time he held it was when it was in his back pocket at Kate's house and then up the back alley. It must have been in his pants when he changed clothes on the back porch.

His mother was doing the wash when he fell asleep. If she put his pants through the wringer, the hammer would make a real mess of things. Two years ago, he'd left some marbles in his pockets that had jammed the rollers and ruined the gears. His only hope was that she had gone to bed without wringing out the wash. Checking out the window, he saw his pants swaying gently on the line. "Oh great," he muttered.

Making his way quickly down the stairs, he forgot about the step just below the landing and put his foot in the middle. The stair let out its customary low groan. Holding his breath, he waited for his mother's snoring to resume. Then he crept out to the back porch.

The wringer washer grinned at him from its corner. It always reminded him of a robot from a science-fiction story, with its wringer head hanging over its squat body and rollers like two rows of yellowed teeth in an oversized mouth. He inspected the rollers. Everything looked fine. Either his mother had found the hammer, or it was still down in the rinse water she always saved for her garden.

After rolling up his sleeve, Corvan plunged his hand into the cool water and felt around the groove at the bottom of the round tub. All he found was the scorched half dollar from the chest, which he dropped into his pocket as he looked back through the screen door into the kitchen. If his mother had found the hammer, she might have put it in the secret hiding place where she kept the family cash.

He remembered to pushing down firmly on the screen door handle to avoid any squeaks from the hinges. He went to the pantry and pressed on a knot in the wall, from which a small door popped open to reveal a shallow alcove. Grandfather had built the hiding spot for his mother, but Corvan had found it one day while searching for the chocolate chips. This time, it contained nothing: no chocolate, no cash, and no hammer. Corvan clicked the hidden door shut. Maybe it had slipped out of his pocket when he used the outhouse.

The path was warm on his bare feet, and the moonlight illuminated his footprints from earlier that afternoon. The wooden latch on the outhouse had been left open, which meant he was the last one to use it. Corvan pulled the rough plank door wide on its leather hinges, and that familiar rank odor wafted out. He crouched to search around the wooden platform and behind the stack of old newspapers.

The hammer wasn't there, but then where could it possibly be? He shut and latched the door.

As he was retracing his steps, Corvan glanced up the path that led to the steep side of the rock. A set of marks were outlined by the moonlight. He bent low. These were animal tracks that had been partially wiped out, as if the animal had been dragging something along. Maybe a predator's successful kill? But there was no blood on the ground.

The tracks led out to the edge of the rock, and Corvan heard pebbles rolling and clinking together overhead. Hugging the rock, he climbed on all fours until he reached the crown of rocks silhouetted against the night sky.

Crawling quietly forward, Corvan peered around one of the boulders. A shadowy figure was crouched near the solitary rock in the center. Then dirt and pebbles sprayed out as the animal dug furiously at the base of the lone boulder. When the creature stopped digging, it stood up on its hind feet.

The lizard!

Corvan watched in fascination as the reptile picked up two strips of cloth from the ground and wrapped them carefully around its front claws. It held them up to inspected them, and in the soft light, it looked as if it were wearing mittens. Corvan stared, transfixed by the bizarre sight as it then stooped to drag something back to where it had been digging. The hole in the ground appeared to be too small for the large creature, but its body seemed to melt and flow down inside until only its cloth-wrapped claws remained in view holding up a black object.