back out of the Fault Line he’ll want me around to help.
Tyler almost opened his mouth to say something, but a chill ran over him and he turned to catch the barest moment of Mrs. Needle’s dark, cold eyes on him before she looked away.
Maybe for once he’d hold off for a little while, Tyler decided. Play it safe. Because he was beginning to understand that more was at stake here than just an old man collecting crazy animals out of a hole in time.
Tyler knew he really should get some sleep-even if tomorrow was their last day on the farm, they still had to get up at the same horribly early hour-but his mind would not rest. He sat in bed with the same questions going through his head over and over, like birds fluttering in a cage that was too small.
Was the spirit in the mirror really Grace, Gideon’s lost wife? How serious was the threat to Gideon and the farm from that Stillman guy that Ragnar had told them about? Could dragons really talk, and could his sister understand them? And, perhaps most puzzling of all, had he really fallen into a hole in time then found his own way out again? Could he do it again? Everyone said that only the Continuascope would allow someone to navigate the Fault Line. Was he, Tyler Jenkins, special or had he just been incredibly lucky?
Something flickered at the corner of his eye, drawing his attention. He looked up to see Zaza’s wide-eyed face at the window. Tyler got out of bed and threw open the window, but she only hopped around his window frame in agitation, then threw herself backward into the air before swooping up back up again to the window.
“What’s the matter, Zaza?” he asked quietly, in case the black squirrel had returned.
She climbed onto his shoulder and chattered at him, her tail lashing. The fur on it was all puffed out, like she was spooked or something. Tyler peered past her but saw only darkness. He was about to climb back into bed when something glinted below him. Tyler leaned forward and squinted into the night, but couldn’t see anything. Then a beam of light hit him in the eyes.
Zaza let out a chirp of fear and leaped off him and out the window. Tyler rubbed his eyes, dazzled. A trio of dark shapes stood on the ground below, swinging flashlights around. For a moment he thought they were Stillman’s spies and his heart raced. Then he realized that unless they had been recruited from Munchkinland, they were too small to be grown-ups. There were three of them, and he suddenly realized they seemed more than a bit familiar.
“Tyler?” the stockiest one called up to him. “That you, man? Oh, boy, this house goes on forever. We thought we were never going to find you.”
“Steve Carrillo!” Tyler said in a loud whisper. “What are you guys doing here? No, don’t answer. Just don’t move, stay quiet, and I’ll be down in a second. And turn off those flashlights!”
Tyler pulled his clothes on right over his pajamas, then hurried across the corridor and woke up Lucinda. She followed him on tiptoes down the stairs. Outside, they found all three Carrillos, Steven and his sisters, Carmen and Alma, wearing dark hooded sweatshirts and dark pants and carrying flashlights.
“You look like you’re going to the ninja convention or something,” Tyler whispered. He looked back at the house to see if anyone was obviously watching, but the only lights were at the far end, the kitchen and dining room. “Why are you here?”
“Dude, we only came to find out if you were dead or not!” said Steve.
“I told him we shouldn’t do this, but Steven thinks he’s a spy or something,” said Carmen. “He said we could find you guys’ rooms easy,” she added. “My brother, the genius.”
Steve said, “Actually, yeah, we were about to give up when we saw you hanging out the window. How come you two never called us back?”
“What do you mean, called you back?” asked Lucinda.
“We left, like, twenty messages,” Steven said. “She always said you were out somewhere, doing chores.”
“She?” asked Lucinda. “You mean Mrs. Needle?”
Tyler was getting nervous now. “Lucinda, we have get them out of here before someone hears us.”
“We didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” said Alma. “But Steven kept saying maybe they murdered you or something.”
“No, we’re fine, but we’ve got to get you away from the house or we’re all definitely in a lot of trouble.” Tyler couldn’t even guess what Uncle Gideon would do if he knew the Carrillo kids were on the property-go crazy, just for starters.
He was about to lead them around the back of the house toward the Sick Barn when he saw a movement at the corner of his eye, something slinking by above their heads. He looked up, and with a sinking heart saw a dark shape hunkering down along the roofline-the squirrel, that rotten, nasty squirrel.
And it’s probably not really happy with me, either, after last time, he thought. Wonder how long it was stuck in the fruit picker?
How did the thing communicate with Mrs. Needle? Could it be telling her right now that there were strangers on the property? Was it too late already-was she fetching Gideon?
It didn’t matter, Tyler realized. They had to assume she didn’t know. He leaned close to Lucinda. “Take ’em to the library-but give me about five minutes first.”
“I don’t want to go there, Tyler.”
“We have to. It’s the only place that’s far enough from the house that no one’s going to know they’re here.”
“We could just send them back the way they ca-”
“No! They must have been incredibly lucky to get here without Mr. Walkwell or Ragnar spotting them-they wouldn’t be that lucky twice.”
“Mr. Walkwell wouldn’t hurt us,” said Alma confidently. “He likes us.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Tyler told her. “Look, Luce, just do it. Give me five minutes. I’ll meet you there.” And without waiting for any more conversation, he took off at a trot in the opposite direction from the library, across the farm toward the pastures and animal barns.
Tyler had only put a few hundred feet between himself and the house when something ran up his leg from behind and bit him on the back between his shirt and pants. He let out a muffled shriek and tripped, crashing to the ground and rolling, the scratching, nipping thing still trapped against his body by his own clothing.
As he struggled to get away, it was all Tyler could manage not to scream at the top of his lungs, but he knew that if he did that there would be no turning back-the Carrillos would be found, Uncle Gideon would go thermonuclear, and he and Lucinda would be sent away never to return. He managed to pull his shirt up enough to get his hands around the scratching, struggling thing and throw it away from him. It hit the ground and rolled, and by the single dull light above the door of a nearby barn he saw the black squirrel spring back onto its feet, its tail held high behind its back, its yellow eyes almost glowing with malice. It was by far the biggest squirrel he’d ever seen, big as a large house cat. It took a few skittering steps toward him and hissed like a snake.
Tyler turned and ran.
At first he thought the squirrel would only follow him a little ways, then go back to the trees and rooftops where it felt comfortable, but when he looked back the thing was digging along the ground after him like a mad black rabbit. Tyler swore under his breath. He didn’t think the creature could actually kill him-could it?-but it could sure rip him up with those vicious claws and teeth, and it already had him bleeding in a half dozen places, wounds that were now beginning to sting with every step.
Tyler was headed toward the big stretch of open land where the unicorns lived, trying frantically to think of ways he could escape the creature but not coming up with any. He scrambled over a fence, but had gone only a few more steps before the squirrel caught up and leaped onto him again, scrabbling its way up his side and back and shoulder, straight onto his head.
Now Tyler did scream and threw up his arms, managing by pure luck to dislodge the creature before it got its claws sunk into his scalp. It hissed again as it fell, and when it hit the ground it turned and came after him. He could almost swear its chatter was a language, and the words were not friendly ones.
At the last moment he found a fallen branch from one of the live oaks, and just as the black squirrel took a bounding leap toward him again he swung and managed to smack it hard. The squirrel fell but got up, leaping up his arm so quickly that it was halfway through the twigs and dried leaves at the end of the stick before he could throw the branch away with the squirrel in it. This time he did not bother to look back but simply ran across the pasture as fast as he could.
I’m going to be murdered-by a squirrel! He was too frightened even to be embarrassed, but it was certainly
