Chapter Three

  The kids were lined up and ready to assemble inside the courts when Lachy and his dad pulled into the parking lot. Horace hopped out of the truck, hurrying to pull Lachy’s bike out of the back and Lachy detected straight away that the sides of his dad’s mouth were lowering. He accepted the bike from his dad, with regret winding knots inside his gut, he knew what was coming next and he didn’t want his dad to see his disappointment. Without looking back, he wheeled the bike away from the truck, toward the bike racks that were next to the back door of the courts.

  “Sorry, I have business in Lancaster. You understand, right son?”

  Lachy didn’t turn around, he waved a hand up instead and answered over his shoulder. “Naw, it’s only a game dad. You go ahead, I’ll see you when I get home.”

  “That’s my boy,” Horace said catching up to Lachy, and he messed up his hair, leaning down by his ear. “Pizza. I’ll get pizza tonight to celebrate, how’s that sound?”

  Lachy faked a smile, with a quick nod to his head. “Thanks for letting me come tonight.”

  “Young Draculoc, why do you give blessings when it saddens you so?”

  Lachy’s eyes popped when he heard it. The words had stabbed at his heart, and he clenched his fists. “Mind your business,” he thought harshly.

  “It is forbidden to fake, did they not teach you?”

  “Maybe you should learn not to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Lachy retaliated. He heard a forced breath, inside his mind, then silence. He brightened when Jake came into view, and gave his dad a quick wave and ran over to meet up with his team. He didn’t bother to look back when Horace tooted to the boys.

  “Where’s he going?” Jake asked, watching as the tailgates made a final blink from the brake lights as the truck pulled away.

  Lachy shrugged. “I got suspended for three days. I’m just happy he let me come.”

  “Good point,” Jake said. “We need you tonight, if we are gonna beat them.” He lifted his hand, and his face paled when he pointed toward the Panthers, who were in the opposing line.

  “I’m gonna crack your skull, Wulf.”

  “He challenges you Draculoc. Such easy prey.” The voice chuckled softly in the back of his mind.

  Lachy rolled his eyes. “Easy for you to say, you’re my imagination. Or maybe my conscious. What are you?”

  Silence. Was the only reply Lachy had from the voice. With his back still to the Panthers, he fixed his eyes on Jake. “Kyle Daniels?” Lachy guessed, and when Jake shook his head yes, Lachy’s brave mouth switched into gear. “Get over yourself Kyle. I told you, we aren’t taking your..” Lachy’s words stopped dead when he turned, and a sinking feeling speared through him, from his head to his feet. “That looks like the entire Daniels clan.” Fell off Lachy’s lips, one slow and staggering word at a time.

  “Yep. How can the coach let them play? Isn’t his brother Duke, about 17?” Jake replied in a small voice, “We’re all thirteen, except for Mike Rankon who just turned fourteen.”

  “I think we’re dead.” Lachy gulped when he saw the oldest Daniels’ boy punching his fist into his palm, glowering down at Lachy. Lachy struggled with desperate panic, as he looked through the line and avoided the glares from the other four Daniel boys who were just as big and mean as Chris.

  “Is that the one who broke Chris’ hand?” Duke asked in a gruff voice.

  Kyle nodded. “I’m gonna get his friend, too.” Kyle grinned when his big brother cracked his knuckles.

  “What are we going to do?” Jake asked, his voice was weak, as he stepped back a step eyeing the Daniels boys.

  When he heard what they said, he no longer cared. As if something inside him acted like an iron rod of strength, and bravery. Lachy thought of all the changes that happened to him since he was struck by lightening, and a faint smile formed on his lips. “Play basketball,” he replied.

  --

  “Never fear,” The voice inside his head whispered.

  Lachy ignored the little voice and went to the bench where Coach Franklin was waiting. “Now I know this team isn’t matched up fair to you boys, there’s a 17 year old that can plow straight through you on it. I can’t do anything about it, his father is the coach.”

  “Why are we here?” Came inside Lachy’s mind. He looked around and lowered his head, trying to focus on Coach Franklin.

  “This 17 year old, he seems tough, right. This means he’s going to get a lot of fouls, if he gets fouled out, we might have a chance at winning this.”

  “What is the purpose of this exercise?” Lachy rolled his eyes when he heard it in his head.

  “Basketball. It’s a game, shush, I’m trying to hear my coach.”

  Coach Franklin pointed to Jake and said, “You are the fastest boy I have. I want you to be a chaser, no one guards the 17 year old.”

  “Will there be blood-shed? Are you facing your enemies?”

  “No, it’s a game of points.”

  “What is the purpose of this?”

  “Stop asking me questions.”

  “Lachy, are you with us? Heard you got hit by lightening.” His coach asked, his hand rested on Lachy’s back.

  Lachy felt his face flush with embarrassment. “Sorry Coach Franklin. Yes I did get hit by lightening, but it couldn’t have been very hard, I can still play.”

  “Fair enough,” Coach Franklin said. “Everyone put your hands in.”

  Lachy joined in and they all piled one hand on top of the other and screamed out, “Go, Go, 3 POINT O’s.” And they broke.

  Lachy ran to block number eight on the Panther’s team and winced when he noticed Duke Daniels, the dreaded 17 year old, who towered over everyone else on the court. Even the tallest player, Mike Rankon on Lachy’s team only just reached Duke’s shoulder. He held in a breath and braced himself when Duke came toward him, he had the ball, dribbling it hard and fast, and he charged at Lachy, who closed his eyes and waited. There wasn’t anywhere he could run to get away from him, he was about to be plowed down, and he braced his legs, ready for it. Then he felt it, a little tiny tap. Duke had good momentum, Lachy knew he fully intended to run him down, but he hardly felt the bump from Duke’s arm at all. He received an elbow jab, he was sure of it, then Lachy’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of puffing air, he could sworn it was coming from Duke, it was as if he were in pain.

  “Where are your weapons?”

  “Leave me alone, I’m trying to play.”

  “Play? Is that what you call this? How interesting.”

  Lachy lost his chance at blocking number eight, and he stopped as he was half way up the court. “I don’t know who you are, but I want you to leave me alone.”

  “But I am curious, I must learn more.”

  “Stop! I’m not talking to you anymore.” Lachy shouted inside his head.

  “There is no need to be rude, young Draculoc.”

  Lachy managed to steal the ball, and with relief the nagging little voice inside his mind, had gone quiet. “Jake, heads up.” Lachy yelled out as he passed the ball. Lachy was racing behind Jake who was dribbling the ball, and that’s when Lachy saw him, Duke Daniels, standing in position, with a closed fist. Lachy ignored him, trying to race past, and he didn’t miss a step when he was blasted by a fist to his stomach. He casually slowed to a stop and looked at Duke with a blank expression, Duke was stooped over, favoring his hand and his face had turned fire red. “You tricked me!”

  “Yeah, heard that one before,” Lachy said, with a half grin.

  Lachy’s grin faded when he felt an arm hook around his throat. “No body picks on our family.” He knew the voice before he saw him.

  “Kyle, let go of me, let’s get back to the game.”

  “No, Woffie Woofer, I’m gonna finish you now.”

  “I’m not feeling right today, I don’t think you should try.” Lachy warned him, not wanting to get a foul. He felt a tap against his lower back and turned in shock, w
hen a bunch of rude words came from Kyle’s direction.

  “What are you wearing under that, a suit of armor?”

  “Sometimes it feels like that.” Lachy said, honestly, and meant it, literally. He could feel his skin tightening under his shirt, just like the small patch of his cheek, where Duke had struck him. He smirked at Kyle, widely and said. “Maybe you’re just a big baby.” In the blink of an eye, he was facing the ceiling and was mystified, he didn’t feel the wind knock out of him, like the last time he was knocked out flat by a Daniels’ boy. He relaxed back, watching shoes stomp on his stomach, his arms, and his head, but he felt nothing.

  “It is forbidden. Do not allow them sanction over you.”

  “Do you think I got a choice?” Lachy thought harshly. “Did you see how big that guy is?”

  Panic struck him like a jolt to the stomach, Jake was running in his direction. “Coach! Coach Franklin help him!” Jake was screaming.

  “No Jake! Stay back.” Lachy yelled out, through the trees of legs that were surrounding him. Lachy heard Jake scream out as Kyle swung his fist and knocked Jake down. Lachy squirmed up his face as he heard the crack, and his heart sunk knowing Jake was in for pain. Lachy’s breath stopped short when he saw Duke bending his knees preparing to pounce on Jake’s stomach.

  “Leave him alone!” Lachy said in a voice so rough, that it didn’t sound like himself, and he resisted the urge to look around to see if anyone thought the same thing. “STOP IT!” Lachy screamed, and without warning, Duke was flung across the court. Duke flew over the heads of the players and slammed into the net on the opposite side of the court. Lachy couldn’t see much over the crowd that was gathering at that end, but it looked as though Duke’s leg was hooked inside the basket, and he was dangling upside down.

  Lachy rose to his feet. His heart was pounding like wild horses against his chest. He felt that familiar heat start up in his toes, it burned in his legs, it was a firestorm of emotions rising up inside of him, and it was starting to take him over. Panic-stricken, he looked down at his hands, as he felt it rising from his fingers up to the top of his head. Lachy felt the mark on his arm, it was irritating him, itching and he feared it may be glowing. He saw a glimpse of Jake’s expression, he had a fixed stare at Lachy, and a look of horror had claimed his face. Lachy’s felt the heat exploding inside him, it was threatening to come out in a torrid furry.

  “Wow, that’s amazing!” Jake whispered, as he got to his feet and raced to Lachy. The others were running toward Duke, who had landed on the court flat on his face. Lachy’s ears were blazing hot, and he understood in an instant that he had to calm himself down. The fire was coming, just as it did when the textbooks broke into flames.

  “Run Draculoc! Ward off the fire.” The voice said gruffly. “Water! You need water.” With Jake on his heels, Lachy raced toward the locker room, and slammed through the doors. He collapsed to his knees and the heat from his toes and fingers were as stronger than before. His skin wasn’t scorching with pain, but it was about to melt down, into an inferno mess, if he didn’t do something, and fast.

  “Your eyes, it’s like there’s a flicker of lights in them.” Jake said, running inside, as he knelt beside his friend. “Like fire flames.”

  “Water. I need water now.” Lachy said, laced with drops of sweat streaming down his neck, he was breathing ragged, unable to explain any further. Jake helped Lachy stand and they staggered over to the shower. He turned on the tap and Lachy leaned a hand against the tiles and felt the cool water as it rushed over his hair and his face.

  “What’s going on in here?” Coach Franklin’s stern voice made them both jump, he was out of breath and looked from Jake to Lachy.

  “The lightening bolt Coach, it’s making him sick.”

  “Maybe you should have skipped the game son. Do you want me to call your father?”

  Lachy’s throat closed, as he felt the heat start to ease from his hands and feet. He walked out of the shower and Jake was quick to step in and turn off the taps. “No thanks coach, I have my bike. I could use a little fresh air, anyway.” He said, and accepted the towel from Coach Franklin.

  Coach Franklin frowned at him for a moment, pressing a finger against his temple. “Why don’t you wait in here, and I’ll give you a ride home when the game’s over?” Lachy thought it over and finally shook his head yes.

  After Coach Franklin left him and Jake in the locker room, Jake came and sat beside him on the bench. “What’s happened to you? Your scar glows, flames glow in your eyes, you made that fire start in school. I saw it.”

  “I don’t know.” Lachy said, shaking his head, lowly.

  “Does your dad know?”

  Lachy shook his head no. “Please don’t tell anyone. I don’t want them to take me away from my dad.. Please, I already lost my mom.”

  Jake looked at him with trusting eyes. “I will never tell.”

  “Young Draculoc! Deflect your person from this court. NOW!”

  “Deflect? What is that supposed to mean?” Lachy replied to the voice.

  “He is here.”

  Lachy jumped to his feet when he heard it inside his mind, his eyes searching around frantically. “I gotta go.”

  “No you can’t. You promised Coach Franklin.”

  “I can’t explain, but I have to go now. Tell them I was fine.. I wanted to ride home myself.” Lachy said, in a rush, and quickly added. “What ever you do, stay away from the Daniel’s boys.”

  “Wait Lachy! Come back!” Lachy heard Jake call.

  Lachy didn’t hear what else Jake had to say. He took off. As if in flight. Feeling like he was floating as he ran with all his might toward the bike rack. With trembling hands he unlocked the chain on his bike, he didn’t have any reason to believe the voice in his head, but it sounded desperate enough not to take any chances. He hopped on his bike and sped out of the drive of the courts, and warded off any onlookers that noticed him tearing off.

  He rode toward the long straight road of Orchard Avenue, and glanced back, the lights from the courts were becoming distant, and the sun had begun to set. The shadows were stretched long from the Orchards, twisted and knarred claws, shadowed on the road that lie ahead. He thought about how the Coach had offered to call his dad, and he was starting to regret that he didn’t agree. He realized he was going to soon pass the forest where something had been stalking him for the past few days, and he felt that familiar creepy feeling, as he knew, by the time he reached the wooded area, it would be dark.

  He tried to push his fears away from his mind, and hoped that his team mates scored a few points, and that they’d beat the Panthers. He was maddened with worry about Jake, and how he was handling the Daniel’s boys, alone. He didn’t feel right leaving Jake at the mercy of them, they would be really ticked that the biggest of them had an accident. A sweeping feeling of victory washed over him, and he dismissed that thought, thinking about the look on Kyle’s face when his big brother took a flying leap. Maybe those bullies finally got a taste of what it’s like, he hoped perhaps their days of bugging him and Jake, were through.

  A surge of rough weather picked up and he had to close his eyes, and hung onto the handlebars with all his strength, to keep the bike from tipping over. Hastily, he bit his teeth down hard, he’d forgotten that his shoes were soaked from the shower and his foot slipped off the pedal. He lost his balance, and his bike nearly toppled over, as he came to a full stop.

  Movement drew his attention overhead. When he looked up he saw the profile of a shadow by the moonlight, it looked like an incredibly big bird. Lachy was blinking in disbelief, and hardly noticed a soft flapping sound. Above his head, he detected something blowing in the wind, it looked like a dark piece of cloth, and it was lowering, right in front of the bike.

  A spine-tingling sensation overcome him, and he yelped with eyes wide. In the gloomy light was the image of a man was standing in his path, he faced Lachy with his arm stretched out, and a flat palm, it reminded Lachy o
f Mrs. McDonald during gym class, when she was yelling, stop. The man’s hair was streaked back from his forehead, he was dressed in black leather from his head to his toes, he had a chiselled face, and thick eyebrows hooded his eyes. With all the strange things that’s happened since Lachy was hit by lightening, he didn’t think much else could shock him silly. This man’s sudden appearance swiftly changed his mind about that, if he didn’t know better, he would have thought the man simply dropped from the sky.

  “Excuse me young Sir, I seemed to have lost my way.” He said, a cordial smile appeared on his strong chin, but behind it, Lachy detected he didn’t mean it as nicely as he said it. Lachy noticed his knuckles had turned a chalky color from his death grip on the handlebars, and he glanced back, wishing he had stayed at the courts.

  “My apology young lad, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He said, and took one-step toward Lachy, the sinister smile remained on his face, and his jaw tightly weaved from side to side.

  “You didn’t.” Lachy said, levelling his shoulders, he swallowed hard as he bit back the panic that was about to pounce out of his skin.

  “Very well then, you can help me. I am looking for the plain people, do you know of them?”

  “The Amish?” Lachy asked, his eye brows sprung up. The look on Mulish Schmidt’s face when he painted the blood red stars came to Lachy. He thought about how they shunned outsiders, and if they were expecting a visitor, it would be for a barn raising, and they didn’t seem to need a new barn. And this man wasn’t wearing suspenders, Amish people wore suspenders, with dark coats. Come to think of it, an Amish man wouldn’t be wandering around past sunset, it was too late for them to be out of bed.

  “Why don’t you go to town and ask a grownup,” Lachy said. “I’m not allowed to talk to strangers.” Lachy mounted his bike and pushed off, but the front wheel didn’t move.

  “Evade his leer! Do not turn your back on him.” The voice came so abruptly inside Lachy’s mind, that he jumped with a fright. The advice was a little confusing. Lachy was about to ask how a person can not look someone in the eye and not turn their back on them at the same time. He bit his lower lip, thinking that it was probably was another riddle, and he wasn’t in the mood for a riddle. Lachy’s breath stopped short as the stranger reached out and grabbed hold of Lachy’s arm, and twisted it examining the marking with interest. “Where did you get that, lad?”

  Lachy yanked his arm back, and he managed to get out of the strangers grip easier than he thought. “It’s a birthmark.” Lachy replied, trying to keep the fear from showing in his voice. “Sorry Mr., but I gotta get home. Um.. Town is that way.” He said with a shaky finger, pointing toward Lancaster, which was in the direction away from where he was heading.

  “What’s your name, boy?” The stranger asked, with his stick still wedged against the front tire of Lachy’s bike.

  “I told you I don’t talk to strangers.” Lachy said, his hands were turning to palms of sweat. He wished that the fear would go away. It appeared to him that when he was angry, the fire came, at that moment, he wished for the fire.

  “Who are you?” Lachy asked, afraid of the eyes that looked upon him. He was facing the stranger, and there seemed a very real chance that he was dangerous.

  “I am Warlock, boy. Do you know what a Warlock is?” His eyes squinted and he lowered his head, to meet Lachy dead on.

  Lachy covered his mouth, holding in a giggle. Suddenly this sinister stranger wasn’t so very scary at all. A little nuts maybe, but no so scary. “Yeah I watch movies.” He said with a big grin. “It’s not Halloween you know.”

  “You dare mock me!” The face that met with Lachy was unkind. Unyielding. His voice came down on him with a violent roar.

  “Everyone knows Warlocks aren’t real.” Lachy said, trying to hold in a riotous burst of laughter that was fighting to come out. “Wicked costume though.”

  “Why you insolent little fool.” The man screeched, and raised his stick.

  Lachy instantly lifted an arm up, to block the blow that he was about to receive from the darkly dressed man, and his mind filled with the voice.

  “Forestall!” It hissed, viciously.

  “For what?” Lachy repeated, thinking it as quickly as he could. With the Warlock’s arm raised, he looked skyward, and his mouth hung wide.

  “Turn aside.” It said. “I am here.”

  A whirlwind twisted around Lachy and the Warlock. The pressure from the g-force was earth shattering, for a moment Lachy thought a helicopter was about to land. He didn’t waste any time doing as he was told, he dropped his bike and threw himself flat out on the gravel. He covered his head and peeked through his fingers, and watched in horror as the Warlock flicked the sides of his leather overcoat, and a plasma ball shot from his hand. A whooshing sound came from overhead and large talons clawed before Lachy, aimed at the Warlock. He closed his eyes tightly as a bright flash of light streaked across the sky.

  “Wicked trick!” Fell off Lachy’s lips when he couldn’t resist, stealing a look. The Warlock spring in the air, and did an effortless leap over Lachy and his bike. Within the blink of an eye, the Warlock spun his head, with blinded rage etched on his face. Lachy felt the life drain from his cheeks, with his pulse thumping wildly, he crawled on his stomach, toward the tall grass in the nearby field, on the Amish Farm’s side of the road. Lachy crawled as fast as he could, sure his heart would explode at any moment.

  Thunder rumbled above.

  “I hate thunder. I hate thunder.” Lachy repeated, hoping with all his heart that his father would come along. That he would sense Lachy’s fear, or at least hear the thunder and come looking for him. His dad knew how Lachy feared thunder.

  Lachy’s was frozen in one spot. Blasts of lightening bolts blasted behind him, and he felt as though he was watching a horror movie, and he was the star.

  “Dodge the bolts. You must leave this place.”

  Sparks sprayed all around him. The words of wisdom were enough to wake up his senses and he remembered to breathe. In an instant he’d forgotten about the battle as puffs of smoke were rising up from his basketball jersey. He reached as best he could, patting his back, and when it didn’t work, he hopped to his feet, and was stomping around, yelling out. He was stricken with fear so deeply, that he didn’t realize that he couldn’t feel the flames. It didn’t hurt.

  “Block your eyes! Young Draculoc, do not see me.”

  “Deal,” Lachy replied. He was surrounded by an infernal ring of flames of white and blue streaks. Lachy was shocked and confused, as he tried to convince his stone pillars for legs to become mobile. His chest was pounding with fierce terror. He searched for somewhere to hide, but there wasn’t enough night, to conceal him, as the Amish kept the shrubs along the ditch clean cut.

  A sudden blast came dangerously close to Lachy’s head. It was frightening loud, deafening his ears, and without forethought, he sprung forward. His entire body sprung into action, he had no need to think about where to aim his feet, they were beating a direct line, straight for home.

  “Ferus Atra, do not interfere with me.” The Warlock screeched, ducking from a blast of light.

  “I will thwart you Warlock,” The voice rumbled. Out loud.

  Lachy couldn’t believe his ears. It was the same voice that had been haunting him inside his head. It was coming from that large dark shadow with the big talons. Lachy ducked his head, and leapt over a ball of fire, nearly catching the cuff of his pants on fire. The Warlock tumbled head over heels along the center of the road, and expertly recovered, rising to his feet, striking a defensive pose. At any other time, Lachy would want to stay and watch. “That guy has moves.” He thought to himself.

  “Do not insult me,” the voice responded, sounding, more than a little insulted.

  “Are you the voice who’s been haunting my head?” The beast in the sky let out a roar as the Warlock’s plasma ball struck him the stomach. Lachy hid a grin. “You can’t say he doesn’t have style.”
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  “I will and do.” The voice replied, harshly.

  “Well I think he’s wicked.”

  “Young Draculoc, you haven’t begun to see my power.” The voice replied, and a blinding blast of light illuminated the skies so brightly, that it was like midday.

  “Bragger,” Lachy said grinning. Lachy stopped running. He was far too absorbed in the lightshow to remember his fear, panic or reason for fleeing. It didn’t seem as though either of them were after him, anymore. Then he shouted, feeling a stabbing pain in the back of his leg.

  Lachy sat up alarmed, with grass sprouting out from his mouth. He angrily tossed the stick away, that had been sticking out of the ground, and tripped him, cutting into his leg. The pain he was feeling was quickly forgotten as he saw a glow that come from the Warlock’s eyes. They had turned a florescent lime-green, he gritted his teeth and held the stick he used to stop Lachy’s bike tire, high above his head, and he screeched a sting of words that Lachy couldn’t understand. For one thing, he was sure that it wasn’t English, and for another, it carried a powerful punch. A mist of sea green fog began to form on the ground around the Warlock’s leather boots, and when he raised his arms, the fog lifted and thickened in the air.

  Lachy didn’t feel a need to stick around to see anymore, he jumped into the bushes, and sprung to his feet, tearing off running. He was too terrified to look at the battle that raged behind him, as crashes and a flurry of wind swirled around him, it reminded Lachy of a tornado. It could have been, it was powerful enough, dark and dirty, swirling, vacuuming everything in it’s path. Lachy looked down the road, about a half a mile away, he could faintly see the lights from the basketball courts, from what he could tell, the game was still going on. Judging from the cheers of the crowd, he assumed someone scored.

  The bottle green mist had been waved away by the creature’s enormous wings and the road around him began to clear. Lachy jumped when he heard the Warlock screech out a mouth full of the creepy words. All the while Lachy hoped the Stranger had forgotten about him, and quickly discerned that if he was going to get away from the man, he’d better do it while he was busy.

  He ran until his lungs burned, and his body began to fall weak. He spun around and the skies lit above him. Larger than life itself, was a creature, of scales and feathered wings. Lachy stood awe struck, it looked the beast who haunted his dreams. Lachy tried to remember the name the creature told him, that night in his backyard by the treehouse, it was Ferus, something. His eyes lit wild. He recalled he used the word Serpent. He gulped hard. His mind filled with worry and question.

  ‘Just what exactly is a Serpent, and which one of them, was the bad guy?’ Lachy questioned, himself, troubled about which way to go, and worrying which one he should trust, and if either of them, were even trust worthy. “Hay you! The yapper in my head. What are you doing here? What does that man want?” Lachy was firing off the line of questions that had been bothering him, since the creature had first spoke inside his head.

  “I am a little busy,” it’s voice purred in Lachy’s head.

  Then silence.

  The Warlock was racing down the straight road, toward the Amish farms. Lachy heard no more words inside his mind, and was baffled. Was it a good, or a bad sign? The creature flapped it’s enormous wings and followed the Warlock, they soon became small shadows over the mountain top, lifting higher into the sky. Lachy fell to his knees, with his body fatigued, he lay on the grass feeling like he was at the fireworks on Independence Day. “Warlocks aren’t real. You’re not real,” Lachy said, to himself, covering his face. “None of this is real.”

  He went dead silent, when heard something completely unexpected. The sound of gravel crunching. With short puffs of breath, he peeked up from the long blades of grass and couldn’t believe what he saw. Mulish Schmidt had stopped his black buggy, and was picking his bike up from the side of the road.

  Lachy hopped to his feet and ran toward the buggy, and began to slow down. A shiny object on the road reflected into his eyes, he quickly reached down and picked it up, lifting it high, straining to see it in the dim of the night. It was a long silver chain with some type of stone dangling off it. He pressed the stone against the palm of his hand, it felt smooth and warm against his skin. Lachy picked up his pace, and called out. “Did you see it? Did you see them?”

  Mulish Schmidt fixed his large black hat and with a kind face, then he evenly opened the door to the buggy and waited. Lachy braved a breath, and eagerly accepted the ride. He climbed inside the buggy and glanced over at Mulish Schmidt, who rode up front. Hunched over with two hands on the reins, Mulish clicked a sound at the horses and they began the bumpy ride down Orchard Avenue. Lachy had never known an outsider to be invited inside an Amish buggy, and couldn’t help but feel perplexed, was he friend, or was he foe?

  “Are you taking me home?” Lachy asked, poking his head through the window, thinking it a bit strange to see Mulish out and about after supper hour. It wasn’t like the Amish to be up past sunset. It was nearly sunset.

  “Do not speak whilst I drive.” Mulish Schmidt replied, quiet sharply. He squared his shoulders, set his eyes ahead with his hands perched, holding the reins.

  Lachy looked ahead, and guessed the buggy was clocking about 1 mile an hour. He looked at Mulish Schmidt with a puzzled expression, and blinked when he heard another rumble of thunder. “Sorry Sir,” he said, urgently sitting back.

  The night was descending upon them with the last of the sun’s rays sinking behind the mountain sky, and Lachy blinked harshly as blasts of thunder and lightening were firing off in the distance. Lachy noticed it was above the forest territory, where the buggy had just begun to pass. Lachy sat back with a long drawn out sigh, trying to figure out where the creatures had gone and what was to become of him if they came back. Mulish Schmidt directed his buggy through the Amish gate, where his brothers were standing, and waiting.

  “Wait! I can walk the rest of the way.” Lachy said, with his nails digging into the seat on both sides of his legs.

  “Show self-discipline, whilst I’m driving.”

  “’Am I going home?”

  Lachy had to wait until Mulish Schmidt clicked the buggy up on the long straight driveway, past the grazing fields and toward his farm house. He sat back watching Mulish as he held the reins, sitting perfectly still in his seat, and wondered if Mulish heard his question. Lachy was pumping with too much anxiety and fear to dare ask again, he wasn’t in a hurry to get back on the road, again so soon, so he sat back and tried to settle down. He thought about the creature. It spoke inside his mind, and it had been warning him that he was coming. Then again, saying he was here. Lachy tried to piece together what it meant, and why the creature would feel a need to tell him about it. He had plenty of time to mull it over, as the Amish driveway was long, possible a quarter mile. The horses were trotting at a good speed, although it felt like a good twenty minutes had passed, it was probably more like five minutes, either way, travelling this way, was painstakingly slow.

  The buggy gradually slowed down, and came to a perfect stop. Lachy sat still, keeping an eye on Mulish as he parked the buggy and climbed down the steps, standing flat footed on the ground, holding the reins with his arm extended out. He appeared to be waiting for something, and at first Lachy assumed it was for him to climb out, too. Soon he figured out, that wasn’t the case. Mulish was looking past the buggy, toward the road, and Lachy turned to see what he was looking at. It was his brothers. They were locking the tall doors of the gate, and started walking up the drive. They took slow easy steps, and seemed to be a fair distance off, as their shadows still looked like tiny dots.

  Mulish was waiting for them, and Lachy sighed, with frustration. It was going to take forever for the brothers to make it the whole way up the drive, and he wished Mulish had offered them a ride, when they were at the gate. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, for the gatekeepers to lock up and walk home, Lachy had seen them do it many times before. Mulish was st
anding, in the exact spot he had been in for the past ten minutes, waiting and waiting for his brothers, and Lachy held his breath, knowing Mulish would correct him, if he asked again. He really wanted to know, if could go home, now.

  After what felt like an eternity, his brothers finally reached the buggy, and took over the reins. It was only then, that Mulish Schmidt opened the buggy door and poked in his head. “No,” he said. The eerie scowl Lachy had seen days before re-emerged as Mulish stood by the buggy, holding the door for Lachy and patiently waited.