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Authors: Philippa Dowding

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BOOK: Jake and the Giant Hand
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Chapter 14

Giant Fly Tornado

A
fter
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 he 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

F
ifteen
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 friends 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.

So he scratched at it, and knocked on it, and tried his best to move it, but the white rock wouldn't budge. The blood rushed to his head, and he was feeling faint.

“Hey, pull me out! Pull me up now!”

Kate and Chris backed up and started pulling him out of the hole, just like Gus had a few days before. Jake's shirt rode up his back, and dirt and rocks scratched his skin as he travelled upward. When he reached the top, he rolled onto the grass, breathing fresh air in big gulps.

“I've never been so happy to see the sky,” Jake whispered.

Kate knelt down beside him. “Did you get the stone? What is it?”

“No, I couldn't dig it out. It's too big. It's really stuck down there.”

Kate and Chris both took a turn. They were lowered into the hole to see if they could dig out the white stone, but no one could budge the rock. Everyone got scratches on their arms and legs and backs.

They were all exhausted after that. It was almost five o'clock when they finally gave up. Jake didn't want his grandfather to wake up and find him out in the field playing in post holes again. With Chris and Kate's help, he refilled the hole with dirt. It was a lot faster and easier to refill a post hole with a shovel and dirt than it was to dig one with the auger.

The twins and Jake walked back to the farmhouse together.

“Should we try again?” Chris asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm beginning to think that nothing can budge that rock.”

“Maybe it's chalk or something? My dad says the fields around here are really chalky.” This was Chris talking, but even he didn't sound convinced.

“It's not chalk,” Jake said.

“Then what is it?” Kate asked.

“I don't know, but it reminds me of something,” Jake said vaguely.

The twins put on their helmets.

“Thanks anyway, guys.”

“Okay, see you, Jake. Let's go fishing tomorrow.”

It was the strangest thing, but as his friends drove away, Jake felt like something BIG was about to happen. Something strange and upsetting that he had somehow set in motion and he was now helpless to stop.

He was right.

BOOK: Jake and the Giant Hand
4.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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