WET AND exhausted, Johnny and Autumn returned from the cave and found their father waiting on the steps of the front porch for them.
“This can’t be good,” Johnny whispered to Autumn as they neared the barn. The cool October night sent shivers down their arms and legs. The two siblings were reluctant to move out of the shadows, sure they were about to be punished for coming home so late after dark.
“We might as well face it head-on and get it over with,” Autumn said. She took a deep breath and tucked the book under her arm. They crossed the yard and moved into the porch light, then up the steps.
“Hey, Dad,” Johnny offered up with a smile. “How’s it going?”
Mr. Briarman was not enthusiastic. Johnny and Autumn expected the worst. Grounded. But for how long?
“Have a seat, kids,” Mr. Briarman said.
Johnny and Autumn gulped and walked over to the porch swing. The old wood creaked as they sat down.
“I’m not sure how to put this, but . . .”
Autumn noticed tears in his eyes. What was wrong?
“. . . Uncle George has passed away.”
Mom’s brother. The news was not at all what the kids expected, but it wasn’t too much of a shock, either. Uncle George had been sick for more than a year, battling cancer. The kids loved their mother’s jovial older brother and felt terrible. Every visit from Uncle George came with presents and really cool stories. But more than that, Autumn and Johnny felt for their mother. For, like the two of them, their mother and Uncle George had always been best friends.
“Your mother and I are leaving in the morning for Denver.”
“Us, too, right?” Autumn asked, wiping tears from her cheeks.
“No, sweetie. I’m afraid you have to stay here.”
“We what?” replied Johnny.
“Dad, we have to come!”
“I’m sorry, children. But you have to stay here. We just don’t have enough money to buy—”
“I’m coming with you,” Autumn declared, her lips pursing together and her brow furrowed.
“Now, Autumn—”
“He would want me at the funeral,” she added.
“Autumn, we all know he would. But there’s just no way we can afford to buy you a ticket on the flight.”
“Then we’ll drive.”
“Then we’d all miss the funeral, Autumn,” Johnny said, wiping away his own tears. “Be real.”
“You’re going to stay here with Aunt Norma,” said Mr. Briarman firmly.
“Aunt Norma?” Autumn whined. “But she’s so old!”
“She’s my sister,” Mr. Briarman contested, put off only slightly by the inference.
“She’s the same age as Uncle George is,” Johnny told her. Then realizing his mistake he quietly added, “was.”
“In either case, Aunt Norma is going to take care of you while we’re gone. We’ll be back in four days. You can handle that.”
Johnny and Autumn both looked down at the wood planking on the floor and listened to the bugs crash into the porch light above their heads. “I still think I’m supposed to come with you,” Autumn said.
Mr. Briarman pushed her over a little to make a place for himself on the swing. The wooden seat protested. The chains stretched. “I know, sweetheart,” he said, hoisting Autumn up into his lap.
She suddenly started crying as if a dam had broken in her heart.
“There, there . . .”
She buried her face in his neck and wept, betraying every air of strength she normally carried. Johnny sat hunched over until he felt his dad’s arm wrap around his shoulders and give him a squeeze.
When Autumn’s tears eventually subsided, Mr. Briarman held her back and looked between the two of them. “Now, you know who really needs your comfort and your prayers right now?”
“Mom?” said Autumn.
“Right. Inside, both of you. She’s upstairs, and I’m sure she’d be very grateful if you were by her side.”
Johnny and Autumn woke to find their parents long gone and Aunt Norma cooking bacon and eggs.
At least she is a good cook, Autumn thought.
In spite of Aunt Norma’s promptings the kids didn’t speak much at the breakfast table.
That night, they ate dinner in near silence and decided to watch a made-for-TV movie to get their minds off Uncle George’s passing. But the production of the film was poor, and Johnny was annoyed with all the commercials, wishing they had just watched a DVD instead.
When bedtime finally came, Aunt Norma tucked them in, not knowing any of their family’s normal evening traditions, which made Johnny and Autumn feel even more uneasy. She said a quick prayer and then flicked off the light in each of their rooms.
It took both children a long time to fall asleep. Everything felt so strange. And it all started when they visited that bookstore yesterday.
Life was normal up until that visit. Meeting Nelly, a book for a gift, the changing title, the trip to the cave, and whatever weird thing happened in there. Then Uncle George dying. It felt almost like a dream. A bad dream. Even Sam was out on one of his adventures, which made the house even quieter without his tip-tapping nails and frequent barks. Johnny and Autumn closed their eyes. They each hoped for a peaceful night’s sleep and that when they woke up in the morning, everything would be back to normal.
“Johnny!” Autumn whispered urgently as she entered her brother’s room. “Johnny, wake up!” She shook her brother’s shoulder.
Johnny opened his eyes and propped himself up on an elbow. “What is it, Autumn? I’m sleeping here!”
“Shh! Don’t make any noise! Something’s wrong!”
Johnny rubbed his eyes. “Autumn, seriously. You’re just having a bad dream.”
Then they both heard something crash downstairs.
Johnny jumped up. “What was that?”
“I told you!”
Two more crashes, each from different parts of the house. One was the sound of something wooden cracking in the den. The other sounded like an entire drawer of silverware had been thrown to the kitchen floor.
“The phone is downstairs. What are we going to do?” Autumn asked.
“Get under my bed,” Johnny ordered. He pressed her head down and forced her beneath, then noticed she was visibly shaking. “It’s going to be okay, Autumn. I promise. I’ll protect you.”
She looked at him, fear and question in her eyes. He strode to his closet and pulled out an aluminum baseball bat.
“What are you going to do?” Autumn asked from underneath the bed.
“I’m going to get these thieves out of our house, that’s what.” Johnny said.
“Johnny!” she whispered urgently. “What if they have guns?”
“I’ll be smart, okay?”
“Please, please be careful.” She pleaded.
Johnny walked to the door and cautiously turned the knob. Autumn covered her eyes and scooted farther under the bed. Johnny slipped through the crack and closed the door behind him.
Holding his bat, Johnny tried to keep his nerves under control. His dad had taught him many things on hunting trips in the deep woods, but the one thing that came to mind was how dangerous adrenaline could be. Shaky, unsteady hands were the hunter’s nightmare. Johnny couldn’t afford a slipup now.
He crept down the stairs avoiding the creaky spots in the floor with each step, and listening. Seconds later, another crash came from the kitchen, followed closely with what sounded like a bookcase falling over in the living room. At least two intruders for sure. Then someone screamed.
“No, get out of our house! Stop now!”
Aunt Norma! Johnny jumped down the last two steps, turned around the banister, and charged down the hallway into the kitchen.
“STOP!” he blurted out, brandishing the bat at . . . at what?
There, holding Aunt Norma to the refrigerator door with one hand, stood a large man in a trench coat. He wore a fedora hat and . . . sunglasses. Sunglasses in the middle of the night?
The man turned his head to face Johnny. The view Johnny got of the man’s surrounding face left him feeling like he was looking at an old man . . . pale, shriveled skin, and wispy white hair. Yet he held Aunt Norma against the fridge—off her feet—with one hand?
“Put her down, NOW! . . . Or I’ll crack you with this!”
The voice that spoke back was hoarse and gravelly. It reminded Johnny of Uncle George’s cancer-ravaged voice the last time he called. But the voice of this intruder had no trace of kindness. “Are you Albriand, son of Elroth and Tisa?”
Johnny winced at the otherworldly voice. “You got the wrong guy, m-mister.” He reared back with the bat. “Now, for the last time, put my aunt down.”
Aunt Norma fainted, her body hanging limp against the fridge. The man released his grip, letting her crumple in a heap on the floor, and then started toward Johnny.
“I’m warning you!” Johnny tightened his grip on the bat.
The man cocked his head sideways, glaring at Johnny through the sunglasses. Just then another figure, dressed the same as the first, stepped into the kitchen from the living room. Johnny’s eyes shifted between the two, a million questions racing through his head. Now the two men started moving toward him from different directions. They were hemming him in.
“Don’t come any closer!”
The first one was now skirting the cutting board island and coming toward him.
Johnny wavered a moment. He’d been in scrapes and fights at school before. But he’d never hit anyone with the intent to kill. He felt like the contents of his stomach had curdled. Sweat rolled down the back of his neck. Everything in his world slowed down. He saw Aunt Norma on the floor. He could imagine Autumn shaking with fear under the bed. And it was then that he made his decision.