Most students got as close to the floor as they could, with their arms and backpacks over their heads. Trees and rocks continued to fall from above. I looked up at Steven. He still had his hands on the wheel and was staring forward, mumbling something incoherent.
I was wondering how much longer it would be until the roof of the bus was broken and we all died, when the large hits and thumps finally began to slow.
“It’s stopping!” someone yelled.
I didn’t know if that was true, so I kept cowering on the bus steps. I couldn’t hear anything but the sound of students crying and whimpering. I figured there were no more trees above us that could fall or push stones.
Steven reached down, and I took his hand. I stood up and looked back at the rest of the bus. I saw Kate close to where she had been at the beginning. Her eyes locked with mine. She not only looked upset, but she looked out for blood—my blood.
The roof of the bus was beat down so low I could barely stand up. There wasn’t a single window still intact, and three trees had worked themselves completely into the space. The bus was blanketed with trees that were hanging off the roof and covering many of the windows. Nobody was seriously hurt, but I could tell most of the kids would be emotionally scarred for years.
We all waited in the bus for help. It came pretty quickly as cars coming up the highway had been stopped by trees on the road and the people had spotted the bus in the rocky field.
We were all looked over and checked by EMTs. Those kids who were scraped or bruised got bandages and ointments, while people like me just got ignored.
I tried to get to Kate to talk to her, but she was being cared for by some tall, good-looking paramedic wearing a bandana.
Nobody besides me and Kate had any real explanation for what had happened. A landslide seemed like the most logical explanation—not real logical, but the most. The landscape was littered with pine trees. They were all over the road and had covered the bus like a woody Snuggie.
It took a while to clear enough trees off the pavement so that cars could move up and down the road, but eventually students began to be transported to their houses or places of safety. I was wondering how I would get back to the manor when a strong hand from behind patted me on the shoulder.
I turned around to find Sheriff Pax.
“Beck,” he said sternly.
“Sheriff,” I replied.
Sheriff Pax looked around at all the trees and destruction. “What a scene,” he said. “So peculiar.”
“Yeah,” I said lamely.
“Guess who gets to drive you home?” he asked.
I moaned.
“What’s the matter?” Sheriff Pax asked. “It’ll give us some time to talk about this.”
I moaned again.
“Oh, and we’ll be taking the Figgins’s girl as well,” he added. “I have a few questions for her also.”
I moaned for the third time as Sheriff Pax led me to his car. Kate was already in the backseat waiting. She didn’t even look up as I slid in next to her.
Something in my life needed to change.
Chapter 22
The Fool on the Hill
Riding in cars with adults can be painful and uncomfortable. I should know because I have been on a lot of uncomfortable car rides before. The one with Sheriff Pax and Kate, however, ranks among the top most uncomfortable moments of my whole life. Kate wasn’t talking, but I could tell she was very close to just blurting out everything about me—dragons and all—and how horrible I was. I give credit to her, however; she didn’t say a word about it no matter how much Sheriff Pax questioned her. Since Kate wasn’t going to spill anything, he went after me, hoping that I might say something that would motivate Kate to speak up.
Adding to the overall feeling of worry was the fact that we were now driving back up the same road we had just been attacked on. I kept looking out the window, praying the forest was done with the ambush.
“Now, you two are close,” the sheriff said, sounding like an adult being forced to speak about an awkward subject.
“Not anymore,” I said. “Kate’s going to the prom with Wyatt.”
I could see the sheriff’s face in the rearview mirror. He looked like a man that wanted to talk about almost anything else.
“Well, you were close,” he clarified.
“Were,” Kate emphasized.
“What do you think just happened?” the sheriff asked. “Did those trees just fall from the sky?”
I stayed silent so that Kate could answer. Even in moments of trial I was quite the gentleman.
“Beck?” Sheriff Pax asked.
“No,” I said. “Trees don’t just fall from the sky. It was a landslide.”
“Landslides involve sliding mud and soil.”
“Not all landslides are created equal,” I pointed out.
“This was not a landslide,” Sheriff Pax said, bothered by my insolence. “People could have died. Another bus was ruined.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” I argued.
“I’m not so sure,” he said.
“Kate, what do you think of all this?”
“I think we’re lucky to be alive,” she said solemnly.
“She’s always really positive,” I added.
“I’m trying to do my job, Beck,” Sheriff Pax begged. “I can’t decide if I should arrest you.”
“For what?” I said. “For helping Steven stop that bus?”
“Kate,” he pleaded. “Do you remember the time the dragons attacked?”
“Yes,” Kate said. “Everyone does.”
“That’s not true,” Sheriff Pax insisted. “I barely remember it and, according to Beck, I helped you all escape. Nobody seems to remember any solid details. Not only are there no details in Kingsplot, but it seems as though those outsiders who reported on it now believe it never happened. There were videos that are gone, pictures that have faded, and nobody seems to care.”
“You do,” Kate said quietly.
“I do,” Sheriff Pax said passionately. “But I have to write things down just to be able to remember them the next day. It’s taken me months of daily reminders to convince myself that if something happens that involves plants, Beck might be to blame.”
“Well, that’s rude,” I said.
“I want to help this town,” Sheriff Pax said. “Help me help you.”
I laughed, thinking his last words sounded really cheesy.
“Why do the plants attack?” he asked.
“I don’t know, they just do,” I said. “I can’t explain it.”
“Are there more dragons?”
“Dragons aren’t real,” I told him.
“Is something about to happen?”
“Yes,” I replied. “You’re about to drop us off at our houses.”
“Did you know that not many months ago a woman on the other side of the mountains was practicing the organ in a church when the roof was ripped off and the entire place was set on fire?”
I kept silent, knowing all too well about the incident he was referring to and wondering if he had forgotten he was involved.
“I was the one covering that case,” he continued. “I have a file on it that shows pictures of the burnt church, and there’s a statement from the woman that says she saw a dragon rip the roof off.”
“Wow,” I replied. I was really commenting on how well his mind had done at forgetting.
“I don’t remember that at all,” he said. “In fact, while reading the file, I thought it was a joke or a prank. But then on the bottom of the file on a Post-it note was the word Beck.”
“There’s a musician by that name,” I told him. “Maybe you were referring to him.”
“I don’t think so.”
We reached the gate to the Pillage manor, and Sheriff Pax passed it up.
“I think I’ll drop Miss Figgins off first if you don’t mind, Beck.”
“Not at all,” I said.
When we reached Kate’s house, she got out, t
hanked the sheriff for the ride, and then walked briskly to her house. We watched her open the front door and disappear inside.
Sheriff Pax turned the car around and drove back toward the manor.
“Beck, I need your help,” he said.
“You’ve mentioned that,” I replied. “But I’m not sure what you want. I’m just a kid. You’re the sheriff.”
“Is something bad about to happen?”
“Yes,” I said again. “Millie and Thomas are going to be mad that I’m home again.”
“Always a joke,” the sheriff complained.
“I see you remember that,” I pointed out.
“Your father isn’t doing well,” he said seriously, changing the subject.
“How do you know?”
“I went to visit him yesterday,” he said. “They have him in solitary confinement. He seemed out of sorts and hostile.”
“He probably just hates policemen,” I said. “A lot of people do. You should probably leave him alone.”
“I don’t plan to leave anyone alone until I figure out what is happening here,” the sheriff said. “Do you understand?”
“I know I’m just a kid,” I said, “but I understand. You need to understand this, though; my father isn’t well, and you’ve no right to bother him.”
“He said you had betrayed him,” Sheriff Pax said. He threw that bit of information out as if it were a secret he had been holding for the right moment.
“He did not,” I argued.
“He did,” the sheriff said. “He said he had you come to get him out and then you turned on him and told them he was crazy.”
“I never did that!”
“He said you stole something from him.”
I kept quiet, wondering just how much my father had told him.
“But when I pressed him, he said you took his rock,” the sheriff said, disjointed. “He’s not in the best frame of mind.”
“Well, there you have it,” I said. “My father’s not well.”
Sheriff Pax pulled past the gate and drove up the drive.
“It really is quite a place you live in,” the sheriff said in awe. “I bet there’s no other manor in the world as amazing as this.”
“That’s probably true,” I said, feeling proud.
“Funny, I’ve never seen it mentioned in any articles or seen any pictures of it on the Internet.”
“Why would there be?” I asked, wanting him to just hurry and pull up to the manor so I could get out.
“The world loves architecture,” the sheriff explained. “It just seems as though there would be a number of people interested in this place.”
“We’re kinda off the beaten path,” I pointed out.
“That’s true,” Sheriff Pax said. “But combined with the rumors of dragons, this should be like Area 51.”
“People used to come around,” I said defensively, feeling as if he were ripping on the manor. “They used to try and get to the back gardens and look at the conservatory.”
“Why?” Sheriff Pax asked.
“You really need to take some sort of pill that helps you with your memory,” I said. “That’s where the dragons were raised, of course.”
Sheriff Pax stopped the car in the courtyard and put it in park. He didn’t get out to open my door for me. Instead he picked up a notebook from the passenger seat and scribbled something in it.
“I need to tell you something,” he said seriously. “I’m going to request that you not attend school the rest of the year.”
“What?” I asked, both angry and relieved.
“I can’t be sure that you didn’t have something to do with what happened today,” he explained. “A lot of people could have been seriously hurt.”
“So I won’t graduate?” I asked with concern.
“I’ll get Principal Wales to gather all your work,” he said, as if that would comfort me. “You’ll graduate, but you won’t be attending.”
“What happens if tomorrow the bus is attacked when I’m not on it?”
“I’d be surprised,” he said. “You and I both know that what happened today had everything to do with you. Now the challenge for me is to make sure I don’t forget it.”
“When people get older, like you, it gets hard to remember.” I wasn’t trying to be mean, it was just some useless thought I didn’t have the willpower to keep to myself.
“Thanks,” Sheriff Pax said sternly.
“You’re welcome.”
Sheriff Pax closed his notebook and set it back down in the passenger seat. He stared out the front window at the manor for a few seconds before speaking.
“Do you mind if I look around?” he asked. “It’s been a while since I’ve wandered your grounds.”
“I guess not,” I replied, shrugging. “Knock yourself out.”
Sheriff Pax looked at me strangely, and then got out of the car and opened my door. I stepped out and thanked him.
“I’d tip you,” I said, “but Thomas stopped my allowance because of what happened at the museum.”
Sheriff Pax put his right hand on my left shoulder.
“Beck, I’m going to figure this out,” he said honestly. “Kingsplot means too much to me to let it go.”
“Good luck,” I said nicely. “I’m rooting for you to come to your senses.”
“You could make it easier,” he told me.
“Yeah,” I replied kindly. “But that’s not really my style.”
Sheriff Pax smiled.
“Something about you impresses me,” he said. “But something bigger concerns me.”
“You’re a complicated man,” I pointed out.
Sheriff Pax walked over toward the garage as I walked into the back service door to try and explain to Millie why I was home early.
Chapter 23
You Can’t Do That
Believe it or not, I was very happy to be forcedly homeschooled. There were only a few weeks left of school, and I was more than willing to do all my learning right in the manor. I spent an hour the next morning doing homework in the kitchen with Millie and Wane. I needed their help with geometry, but they had more questions about what had happened yesterday than math assistance.
“The trees just fell from the sky?” Wane asked.
“No,” I replied, wondering why everyone liked to ask that. “They fell from the cliffs.”
“Don’t be smart,” Millie said.
“What should I be, then?”
“Beck, we’re concerned,” Millie said, ignoring me. “Your father’s not available to even talk to. I know that if he were, he’d have instructions regarding what to do with you because of what happened.”
“Can’t we just act like we did when I first moved here?” I begged. “Remember how we never talked about anything?”
“We want you to be safe,” Wane said compassionately.
“I don’t know what happened yesterday, but I know that I seem to have no problems while I’m here in the manor,” I pointed out. “And since I’m probably never going to get to go anywhere else, I should be fine.”
“You’ll be extra careful and watchful?” Millie asked.
“Of course,” I promised.
“That’s a good boy,” Millie said, handing me a plateful of cookies.
Wane put her curiosity aside and helped me with my homework for another hour. I then told them I had reading homework to do and headed back up to the fifth floor. I grabbed a flashlight, opened the closet, hopped into the elevator, and pushed the button.
All three dragons were waiting for me as I got off the elevator. Jude was strong and so cool-looking. His jet black skin and orange eyes made me wish I could show him off somewhere or enter him into a contest. Paul and Malcolm were cool but in a different way. They were so similar looking. The only real difference was their coloring. They were also more mischievous and unbridled. They screamed and tussled with each other constantly. Jude would always just look as if he were above all that.
Jude was
roughly the size of a small horse now. In the last couple of days he had begun to open and exercise his wings. They too were jet black with orange at the tips, and when he flapped them, it felt like he could grasp the dirt and lift the entire earth out of orbit. I knew that now was the time to move them; by tomorrow it might be too late.