Jake and the Giant Hand Page 5

  The image of a twisted, bony hand made Jake shudder.

  A giant twisted hand in a farmer’s field!

  Jake handed the book back to Chris. “Thanks, I’m really not into mysteries.”

  Mr. Cuthbert drove slowly along the country lanes. Even though it was raining, Jake liked looking out the window at the late summer fields. The apples in the trees were ripe, the wheat in the fields was high, and almost everything was ready to go to market. Jake liked the clean smell of the air, too. Sometimes he thought it might not be so bad to live in the country, like Kate and Chris. Maybe he could get a mini-bike.…

  Then Mr. Cuthbert pulled the van up in front of the library. The steps were slippery with rain, and the three friends had to run carefully up to the big wooden door.

  Mr. Cuthbert yelled, “I’ll be back in an hour,” then he drove off.

  Jake opened the big, wide door with a creak, and the friends stepped into the quiet, dark library. Water streamed down the glass windows outside, but inside the library it was dark, and silent. Since it was Saturday morning and raining, nobody was there yet.

  Jake walked to the front desk. Another librarian was working today, not Mrs. Cody, which was probably a good thing considering what Jake was looking for.

  “Excuse me, I’m wondering where the 100 Years of Our History display went?” Jake pointed to the corner where the sign had been and where all the newspaper clippings were stuck to the board. “It was here a few days ago,” he added.

  The librarian looked up at Jake, and he got the distinct impression that she really didn’t want to be disturbed. She was much younger than Mrs. Cody, but she didn’t look nearly as friendly.

  “Oh, that was on loan from the city archives. We had to return it yesterday.”

  “Oh.” Jake stood there, not sure what to do next. Chris Cuthbert struggled up to the desk with two armloads of books.

  “Hi, Mrs. Strathroy,” Chris said in his most polite voice.

  Mrs. Strathroy smiled. “Hi, Chris! Good to see you. Returning all these today? Or are there any renewals?”

  “Nope, Mrs. Strathroy. I’m returning them all, thanks.” Then Chris and Mrs. Strathroy got into a five-minute conversation about which book Chris liked best. It was a Hardy Boys book, the one he had showed Jake: The Twisted Claw.

  Then Chris smiled at the librarian again. “We’re actually a bit disappointed that the 100 Years of Our History display is gone, Mrs. Strathroy. We were hoping to do a little research and start our local history projects for school this year.”

  Jake and Kate nodded solemnly behind Chris.

  Great thinking! Local history projects! Brilliant!

  “Oh! What a great idea.” Mrs. Strathroy beamed. “I can’t show you the original newspaper clippings since that’s all been boxed and moved to the archive museum in the city.” The three friends tried not to look too disappointed. Jake felt his heart sink.

  “But I can show you how to use the archive on the librarian’s computer. All the stories we used for the historical display are in there. It will show you scanned images of the original newspapers. Some of them are over one hundred years old, so you can imagine the quality isn’t perfect. Shall I sign you in and show you how to use it? It’s right over there.” She pointed at a sleek new machine behind a huge librarian’s desk in the far corner.

  “Mrs. Strathroy, that’s so nice of you! Thank you, we really appreciate it.” Chris smiled again at Mrs. Strathroy, and before they knew it the three friends were seated at the librarian’s computer, looking up historical articles from the display. Chris sat at the screen while Jake and Kate looked over his shoulder.

  Mrs. Strathroy found them the right folder, then left them to their “history projects.” Chris opened the folder with a click. The titles of hundreds of newspaper articles popped up. Kate leaned over her brother’s shoulder and whispered, “You are such a geek. Thank you for being such a geek, from the bottom of my heart.”

  “Yeah, Chris, thanks. Where would we be without you?” Jake suddenly realized that it might just pay to be charming and well-read.

  They started looking through the file names of each newspaper clipping. The entries were strange and, frankly, a little disturbing.

  “Giant hail stone kills McGready horse: 1912”

  “Frequent fog patches cause panic among local pigs: 1907”

  “Record-breaking pumpkin owner dies eating pumpkin pie: 1897”

  “Famous blueberry jam poisons dozens at fall fair: 1921”

  “Local honey producer drowns in honey vat: 1917”

  “Man, this town IS weird!” Kate said after Chris had scrolled down a few pages.

  Then Chris said, “Hey, look!” and pointed at a folder that said, “Lady goes missing in swamp: 1908.”

  “That must be the Edwina Fingles story. Maybe we’re getting close,” Jake said, excited. Chris kept scrolling.

  “Circles found in dust bowl crops: 1932”

  “Farmer claims four-ton boulder in his field mysteriously moved 300 feet overnight: 1930”

  “Family hears spectral train on long-abandoned track: 1918”

  “Fournette ghost walks highway looking for lost dog: 1912”

  “Mysterious maze and local girl vanish into thin air: 1913”

  Then Chris jabbed his finger at the screen. “Here!”

  The file read, “Giant hand-like structure found in farmer’s field: 1913”

  “That’s it! Click on it, Chris!” Jake could barely contain his excitement. Chris clicked on the file … and a message popped up: USER BLOCKED. The three friends groaned. Chris tried again, but the same message popped up. “User Blocked. Access Denied.”

  “Wait,” Chris said. “You can sort of see the newspaper clipping underneath the blocked message. It’s a little hard to see. But there … it’s one of the farmer’s feet, and looks like a view of the back door of the kitchen maybe.” Chris squinted and moved in closer to the screen. “Under the picture it says, ‘… father and son discovered this morni …’ That’s all you can see. Here. Look, Jake.”

  Jake switched places with Chris and leaned in close to the computer screen. He peered hard. The big “USER BLOCKED, ACCESS DENIED” banner covered most of the image and pretty much all of the article, but Chris was right. He could see a tiny bit of the picture and read a little of the caption. Jake looked. He could see feet, a bit of grass, a tiny bit of back door … then his heart started to race. He saw something.…

  He was about to tell Kate and Chris what he saw in the picture when a loud voice spoke behind them.

  “What are YOU doing on the librarian’s computer? This isn’t for you!” It was Mrs. Cody. “Mrs. Strathroy had no right to let you peek through our files. Shoo.” She reached over and snapped off the computer screen. She sent the three friends scurrying away, then she went to scold Mrs. Strathroy.

  Kate, Chris, and Jake gathered at the library door and waited for Mr. Cuthbert to pick them up. When they were away from the prying eyes and ears of Mrs. Cody, Jake whispered to his friends.

  “I saw something in the picture.”

  “What? What did you see?” Kate breathed. Chris leaned in to listen.

  “I saw a pump. A horse-head pump. There’s only one, and it’s on Grandpa’s farm. The picture had to be taken there!”

  The twins looked at Jake, and Kate let out a long, low whistle.

  “Looks like your grandpa might know more than you think,” Chris finally whispered.

  Jake nodded. “Yeah, he knows something alright.”

  But what?

  Chapter 14

  Giant Fly Tornado

  After swimming lessons the next day, Jake’s grandpa went shopping and left Jake alone with Gus for a few hours.

  Jake and Gus wandered around the barn. Gus chased barn cats and Jake stroked Maggie’s nose. He climbed in the hay and swung around the old rafters. It was fun for an hour. It gave him time to think about what to do next. It also kept his mind off what he’d seen, what h
e was sure he saw, in the library archives.

  A horse-head pump in the picture about the giant hand!

  He just wasn’t sure how to ask his grandpa about it.

  After a while, Jake noticed his bike parked beside the barn. He called Gus, then he rode his bike into the field. It was a warm, sunny, beautiful day. Gus ran beside him and barked into the wind. Halfway to the woods, Jake stopped pedalling and sat quietly, listening to the field sounds.

  There was a blackbird singing in the long grass and the sound of wind in the trees.

  There was the distant croak of a frog in the woods.

  There was a ... BUZZZZZZZZ.

  Jake shrieked and ducked just as a giant fly buzzed over the top of his head. Two more flies came right at him. Gus started barking. Jake jumped on his bike and pedalled as fast as he could back to the house. He didn’t even park the bike back in the barn, he just left it beside the back door. Then boy and dog ran into the farmhouse and Jake slammed the door.

  Jake sat in the kitchen, too scared to look outside or do anything, until he heard the sound of the pickup truck. When his grandpa walked into the kitchen with the groceries, Jake breathed a sigh of relief. Gus barked.

  “Are we glad to see you!” Jake called. His grandpa put two paper bags full of groceries on the kitchen table. They started unpacking everything.

  “Anything exciting happen here while I was gone?” his grandpa asked. Jake was thinking about how to answer when his grandpa looked out the kitchen window and frowned.

  “What the heck? Jake, please put the rest of these groceries away.”

  His grandpa walked out the back door. Jake stood with a jar of pickles in his hand and watched his grandpa stride across the back field.

  There was a black cloud swirling over the grass. It was like a tiny tornado, taller than a man, swirling and moving quickly toward the farmhouse. It was too far away for Jake to see very clearly, but it was moving fast. Jake saw his grandpa reach the swirling cloud … and DISAPPEAR!

  Then Jake heard him shriek.

  Jake dropped the jar of pickles and ran into the field. He ran fast across the bumpy grass, right into a dark, buzzing cloud of … giant flies!

  Monster flies smacked into Jake’s head. They buzzed into his eyes and nose and ears. They were so loud, he couldn’t think.

  This is so GROSS!

  Huge, buzzing flies covered his whole body. Sticky bug feet stuck to his skin. Hairy bug faces flew into his face. Huge bug wings brushed against his lips and eyes.

  He wanted to scream, but he was too scared to open his mouth. He could hear Gus barking and barking nearby. The old dog was too wise to jump into the bug whirlwind, though, Jake noticed.

  If I EAT one of these things, I will die of disgust! Jake pushed further into the bug tornado, trying to find his grandpa. He was in there somewhere; Jake could hear him yelling. Jake dug deep into the bravest place he could find inside himself and groped through the swirling mass of creepy, monstrous bugs. He went further into the bug cloud, reaching and grabbing until he caught his grandpa’s arm.

  His grandpa started yelling at the top of his lungs. He didn’t seem to care if the flies flew into his mouth.

  “Leave me alone! Just go away!” he screamed. Jake wasn’t sure if his grandpa was yelling at him or the flies.

  Jake tugged on his grandpa’s hand. It was dark and loud in the bug swarm, and … everything was crawling. Jake clamped his mouth shut tighter and tucked his chin to his neck. He squinted his eyes almost shut. The wings and feet and bodies of the giant flies were almost blinding; it was like struggling through a snowstorm … a bugstorm. Buzzing wings brushed his skin, huge bug eyes flew at him, bugs crawled all over every inch of him.

  Walking into the bug tornado was the single grossest thing he’d ever done.

  Jake tugged and tugged, but his grandpa seemed stuck in the buzzing cloud. It was almost like the flies were keeping him there. His grandpa yelled and waved his free hand at the bugs. Jake pulled and pulled, until slowly his grandpa started to move toward the house and out of the swirling mass. Step by step, Jake dragged and pulled his grandpa until they crossed the field and stepped back into the house. Gus barked and barked and jumped everywhere, snapping at flies.

  Finally, they stood in the kitchen, gasping. Jake made his grandpa sit down, then handed him a cup of water from the full dispenser.

  “Grandpa? Grandpa, what was that? Where did those giant flies come from?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it! No more ghost story questions! No more crazy made-up gibberish about a giant hand. I’m going to bed, Jake. I need a nap.” Jake couldn’t believe his ears. He looked at his grandfather in horror. He felt his voice rise.

  “WHAT? How can you not want to talk about what just happened?” Jake had never yelled at his grandpa before, but he couldn’t help it.

  But it was like his grandpa didn’t hear him. Instead, he took Gus, went into his bedroom, and shut the door. Jake knocked on his door, then banged on it.

  “Grandpa! What’s going on! What was that … bug cloud?” he yelled, but his grandpa ignored him. Jake didn’t know what to do. He stood helplessly outside his grandpa’s shut door. He placed his forehead against the wall.

  Why doesn’t Grandpa want to talk about the bugs? Why was he yelling at the flies to leave him alone? If he WAS yelling at the flies, not at me?

  Jake slumped to the floor outside his grandpa’s room and thought about flies.

  A few minutes later a voice said through the door, “Your turn to make whatever you want for dinner, Jake. Run and play, I’m tired. No more. No more questions.” Jake didn’t want to upset his grandpa any more, and the old man sounded tired. So tired. He made a decision.

  “Okay, Grandpa. I’ll … I’ll go and watch TV.”

  He slowly left his grandfather’s door.

  Things were getting very, very weird around there.

  He cautiously looked out the back window, but the fly cloud had disappeared. The field was green, the sky was blue, and it was like nothing had happened.

  Jake listened closely, but his grandpa and Gus were asleep. He checked the time. It was ten minutes after three. His grandpa sometimes slept until dinnertime, and tonight was Jake’s turn to cook, so he might not get up until after five o’clock. Jake made a quick decision. He wrote a note to his grandpa and left it on the kitchen table. He screwed up all his courage and peeked into the back field, again.

  No flies. He ran out the back door and grabbed his bike.

  Jake wanted answers. And if he wanted answers, he’d have to dig. And to dig, he needed help.

  He needed Chris and Kate.

  Chapter 15

  Back Down the Hole

  Fifteen minutes later, Jake was standing in the back field. Chris and Kate were standing beside him, both with their hands on their hips. Jake’s bike and the twins’ mini-bike were behind them.

  The three of them looked at the auger.

  “Looks sharp,” Kate said.

  “Heavy, too,” Chris added, scratching his head.

  “Yeah, but the three of us should be able to use it,” Jake said. “My grandpa and I used it a few days ago. I know how.”

  He showed Chris and Kate how to hold the handles, and they dragged the heavy old-fashioned machine over to the refilled post hole.

  “This looks like fresh dirt,” Kate said.

  “Yeah, it is. This is the post hole I fell into. This is where I saw the white stone at the bottom.”

  “Okay, let’s do it!” Kate said, and they hoisted the heavy auger into place. Chris took one handle, Jake and Kate took the other.

  “One, two, THREE!” Chris yelled. They pushed and pulled on three. The auger bit into the fresh dirt.

  “One, two, THREE!” Chris yelled again. It took twenty minutes of hard, back-breaking turning. It definitely took longer with three kids than it had with Jake and his grandpa. But the auger slowly dug a fresh hole, until Jake thought his arms would break. All three fr
iends were in a sweat when the auger finally hit the bottom of the hole.

  The machine made a grinding sound. They pulled the auger out of the hole and laid it on the grass. All three were panting, harder than Gus ever did.

  Jake peered down the hole.

  Dark.

  Chris brought a flashlight and rope from the mini-bike storage box under the seat. He shone the light into the bottom of the hole, and there it was. A glint of white!

  “See! It’s white down there!” Jake shouted.

  “Yeah, I see it too,” Kate said.

  “Yeah. Weird. You were right, Jake,” Chris added, scratching his head.

  “Okay, so you two tie the rope to my feet. I’m going down there,” Jake said. He peeled off his sweatshirt and tied the rope around his ankles.

  He lowered himself on his stomach and wriggled toward the hole, head first. Chris and Kate slowly lowered the rope. Jake shone the flashlight ahead of him.

  “Okay, lower me down. More! A little more! More. Okay, stop! I’m at the bottom.” His voice sounded really far away to Kate and Chris.

  Jake was deep into the hole. It was scary down there, with dirt closing in on him on all sides. He tried hard not to think of graves and coffins. It was a little damp too, and smelled like leaves and ...

  … swamp!

  He could smell wet earth and rotting worms. His face was a few inches from the bottom. Dirt fell into his mouth, his ears, his eyes. His heart beat harder. It was creepy, quiet, and dark down at the bottom of the hole. He started to feel a little faint. He’d have to work fast.

  He felt a million miles away from the surface. His grandpa was right — someone could really die down there.

  He didn’t have time to be scared. He had to concentrate. He used his left hand to hold the flashlight, and with his right hand he dug at the dirt. He scratched and clawed, and dug until …

  … there it was, a beautiful white stone. It was dazzling in the gloom at the bottom of the hole. He dug at it with his right hand, trying to get his fingers around it. But it was too big — there were no sides.