Meadowlarks by Thomas Holladay (novels to improve english TXT) 📗

“What’s wrong now?”

Nason let go, crunched all the way into the stuff and rolled over. He stood, brushed himself off, reached back into the truck and pointed. “Shut up and give me that.”

“How long before you’re back?” Embry climbed over to the driver’s side and handed Nason the rolled rug.

“Hand me that flashlight.”

Embry opened the center consol and handed him the flashlight. “How long?”

Nason didn’t want to say he didn’t know. “The moon’ll be up soon. Get this thing turned around.” The moon glowed from behind the mountain rim to the east.

Embry rolled the window halfway up. “You know what you can bite.”

“Don’t get into a bog.”

“My bony butt.” Embry rolled the window all the way up.

Nason wedged the rug under his left arm, turned on his flashlight and plowed toward the waterfall as quickly as his tired legs allowed, lifting his knees to break the crust. Circling the pool and falls was treacherous, ice everywhere he stepped.

Fall in there, it's over.

He followed a small trail uphill and the moon broke over the ridge behind him, easier to see. Maybe the trees under the Perch were tall enough to block the light. Maybe that thing needed to see it; a slender thread of hope.

He followed cut stone steps uphill through evergreen trees, winding his way onto a dome of granite near the giant rock called the Perch. Out here in the open, the snow was deep and the crust was hard. The icy pain felt like his knees were bleeding.

One thing about cop flashlights.

He turned off his forged steel flashlight and used it like a club, breaking hardened snow as he went.

The moon had risen above the trees to light the way.

The solid slab of snow covered granite rose steadily uphill toward the Perch, a giant, upright boulder had a split down the center. He'd never seen it before but he could see it now, getting close.

A stair built into the split boulder led up to the stone, timber and glass house of Willis Donner; organic, beautiful.

Christ Jesus!

Up in one of the many windows, a shadow of someone or something grew steadily larger.

“Ah!” The rolled carpet under his arm moved with power.

Alive!

He unfurled the rug and let the hand fall onto the bottom step.

“Oh, Christ!”

The hand changed under the glow of the full moon, growing fur and long, blade like claws, getting larger. It moved again, trying to grab Nason’s leg.

MOM HAD BEEN MADDER than Jason had ever seen her, not at Jason or Barnabas but at the sheriff and Mr. Embry. She still remembered to give Jason his pumpkin pie before sending him and Barnabas upstairs for the night.

He’d told her they were studying the Declaration of Independence in school and she told him to look it up on Wikipedia and to write a report. He couldn’t do that right now. Too much else was going on. He’d find time to finish his report tomorrow. Right now, he needed to get out there and take care of things. Then mom would feel better.

Barnabas had followed him from the library into his bedroom and Jason stopped at the door to pet him goodbye. “You need to stay here and you can’t bark. Okay?”

Barnabas licked Jason’s nose. He understood. He'd be quiet.

Jason stepped into the upstairs hallway and closed his bedroom door. He hurried to the top of the stair and listened.

Good.

Mom was talking on the phone.

Quiet as he could, he hurried downstairs and listened again.

Still on the phone.

“How was the Bright Spot this year?” She must be talking to Grandma. Grandma always had Thanksgiving at the Bright Spot on Sunset. She never liked cooking, especially not big dinners. If he stayed to the right, with her at her desk, she couldn’t see him leave.

Good.

The heavy bar leaned in the corner. He’d never be able to lift it down alone, not without her hearing. He crossed the entry and grabbed his sheepskin coat, put it on and quietly opened the door a crack, waiting to see if she heard. She was still talking to Grandma.

Jason stepped out, closed the door quietly, broken latch anyway. He hurried down the steps and around the corner of the garage. It felt really cold out so he buttoned his coat all the way to the top and thrust his hands into his pockets.

The full moon made it easy to follow the trail up the slope, even through the trees. He followed the path from yesterday and watched something way up by the waterfall.

Headlights in the snow moved back and forth, maybe someone turning around, probably the sheriff and Mr. Embry. Why'd those guys go way up there?

Finding the flat rock was easy. He could see the steam from a hundred feet away.  The full moon made it easy.

The headlights came straight toward him now, snow piled high on both sides. Sheriff Nason’s truck alright. He couldn't let them see him. He reached the rock and knelt behind the calf. He couldn’t see the headlights from here so they couldn’t see him, blocked by a big pile of snow. He untied the calf, happy as anything to see Jason, and the birds took off, flying up toward the full moon. Maybe the noise from the truck moving past scared them.

The tail lights from the sheriff's truck moved downhill toward River Road. The sheriff and Mr. Embry were yelling at each other.

Chapter Fourteen

Back in the early days, Mary Lou and Jethro Potter had set up a community fund in case of emergencies like fires, flooding, damaging winter storms and so forth. Kind of like a private insurance company, everybody who could afford to do so paid into it. They’d set up a committee to inform the community on the status of the fund and to arbitrate any disputes that might arise. When their monthly meetings had been held in Olen’s store, most of the local folks attended.

Helfred's cookies and coffee.

Ten years ago, after that awful night, Helfred had insisted