The Last Scarecrow

34 | PennyBombs

Erin's tears fell. They came in shuddering waves, her body bent double, a twisting pain gnawing at her ribs. How could Twelve do this? How could she abandon them to this fate?

Forcing her eyes open, Erin looked out to sea. There had to be more to Twelve's plan than simply demanding The Patchwork Woman— Number Eight— to let them go. She blinked, her eyes refocusing on the graves that stood beside the greenhouse.

"Ma," she said to herself. "What do I do now?"

A boney foot crashed into the ground, the accompanying body blocking her view. "Crying, are we? How pathetic." Eight reached down and hauled Erin to her feet. "Tears are for children, the weak, and the broken-hearted." The scarecrow laughed. "Looks like you qualify on all counts!"

Without another word, she dragged Erin through the barn doors and dumped her by the entrance to the haybale fortress.

"I want more scarecrows," she said. "I don't care what you make them out of. Dry your eyes and get started!"

Erin rolled away.

She wanted the universe to open its mouth and swallow her up. She wanted to fall through the cracks of reality and begin again in a galaxy far, far away.

"Twelve," she whimpered, hugging her knees to her chest. "Why?"

Erin lay quietly as wickermen stomped back and forth outside.

Eight barked her orders at the Redkite scarecrows— who were still adjusting to the fact that they were even alive— as the huge bonfire burned fiercely in the centre of the courtyard.

The bonfire!

Erin rolled onto her side and looked at the enormous pyre.

On top, Marshall was still sat in the bath wearing the sackcloth over his head. A sickly grey vapour bubbled over the edges, mixing with thick columns of smoke.

Marshall seemed oblivious to all of this. Surely he could tell that the water was getting hotter, even if he couldn't see the rising steam.

Scrabbling to her feet, Erin tiptoed to the barn door.

Hank and Shun stood either side, their ruby eyes glittered in the firelight.

She dropped to her knees and crawled behind Hank's enormous legs.

Peering out, she watched Eight drape the dark patchwork cloak over her skeletal shoulders and disappear into the farmhouse, screaming and yelling and barking commands.

To her right, Jack was helping Tomas climb into the lookout tower on the northern tip of Coldharbour Farm. They seemed to be arguing, arms gesticulating in all directions. Eventually, Jack stormed up the hill with Tomas shouting something after him.

Erin couldn't tell what he'd said, but it made Jack miss a step, his hand reaching for a long, curved blade at his hip.

She withdrew behind Hank's legs again.

When she risked a second glance, Jack had gone.

Marshall was almost hidden in the torrent of vapour that was now billowing like a chimney over the lip of the roll-top-bath. She crawled forward, looking both ways. Redkites were stationed at the foot of the cobbled path, behind the stables and the greenhouse. Other than the golems, the courtyard appeared empty.

Now was her chance.

Run.

Climb.

And be fast about it.