The Hammer - Cor Series Book I

Chapter 14

Corvan pushed up the window screen and slipped over his windowsill onto the porch roof. Tiptoeing to one side, he grabbed the overhanging branch of the maple tree and was on the ground in seconds. Crouching low, he cut wide around the back porch and through the trees. The light in the porch went out and plunged the backyard into darkness. Glancing back through the kitchen window, he saw his mother turn toward her room.

Running full tilt past the outhouse path, he leapt onto the rock and stumbled as the stone beneath his feet shuddered and knocked him to his knees. Before he could get to his feet, an abrupt scream pierced the night air.

Corvan scrambled to the top and was bolting into the circle just as the two stone slabs crashed together. Splinters of shattered rock exploded into the air and rained around him as he fell to his knees and pounded on the stone. "Kate. It's me, Corvan. Open the door!" He shouted at the ground.

He hammered on the stone slab with a loose stone, but the only answer was faint echoes from below. He reached for a larger rock and bashed on the door until it fell from his scraped and bleeding hands.

Sitting back, he noticed a piece of cloth caught in the top corner where the slabs met. Corvan tugged, and it came loose, neatly snipped off. It was the edge of Kate's flannel blanket.

Kate was gone. And without the hammer to open the doors, there was no way he could get her back. He sank to his knees. Tears of frustration shrouded the cloth in his hand.

The clouds shifted. Moonlight poured into the circle of rocks to reveal footprints in the long piles of dirt pushed up by the opening doors. Some were from Kate's borrowed runners; the rest were made by the lizard. Corvan traced the progression of the tracks. The lizard must have been hiding behind the large rock because he could see deeper prints where it had jumped out when the door opened. After that, the prints left in a hasty retreat toward the north side of the hill. That must mean the lizard was still out there, and it might know a different way to get inside. Slowly making his way to the bottom, Corvan searched the soil around the base of the rock until he located tracks heading toward the loose pile of dead tree limbs and firewood behind the outhouse.

A bank of clouds enveloped the moon, and the tracks vanished in the dark. Corvan looked up. There were only a few small breaks in the sky overhead. It was going to be a long, black night.

A singular patch of moonlight slipped toward the woodpile and moved over the jumbled logs. He caught his breath as the silhouette of the lizard appeared briefly at the very top of the pile.

Easing himself lower among the stalks of wheat, Corvan crouched onto the soft, warm soil. He needed a weapon to defend himself. The lizard was too quick and vicious.

He crawled through the wheat until he reached the outhouse path. As soon as he was hidden from the log pile, Corvan scurried up the path to the house. Creeping up and into his room, he left the light off and retrieved his slingshot and pouch of marbles from inside the chest. The Wham-O slingshot had been a tenth birthday present from his dad, and it was a beauty with a solid ash handle. As its name implied it made a great sound when it hit its mark. Corvan could hit the knot on the outhouse door from his bedroom window, but his mother was not as impressed when it turned out she was inside.

From his bedroom, Corvan studied the deep shadows of the back yard. If he stayed downwind and came in from the front side of the outhouse, he should be able to catch the lizard unaware. If he pulled back on the slingshot only halfway, the marble should stun the creature long enough for him to capture it.

Using his maple tree escape route again, Corvan dropped to the ground and searched around the base of the tree for a forked stick. He needed one like those he used for catching snakes, but there was nothing large enough. He was making his way toward the cellar to find something there when he saw his mother's garden scarecrow standing like a mute watchman with a broken pitchfork in its hand. That would work perfectly as it only had the two outer tines remaining.