back at the table. She lit a cigarette, the smoke curling upward while she sat deep in thought, her face screwed into a deep frown. She had pretty much decided the night before what she was going to do, but the way her husband acted cinched it for her. He was going to prove to the world those things ain’t weeds? Had he gone insane and actually believed what he was saying? It was possible he was simply putting on a show for her and Bert, but she was-n’t so sure anymore. She decided it didn’t matter, she was going to put an end to this nonsense. She stubbed out her cigarette and headed to the basement.
One night the previous winter she had forced an argument with her husband about the Caretaker’s contract which ended up sending that old fool scurrying down to the basement to prove her wrong. What he didn’t know was that earlier she had Bert hide down there. Using a flashlight, she found the two stones along the back wall that Bert had shown her. The stones were harder to pull out than she would’ve thought and for several minutes she doubted whether she had the right ones, but eventually they budged and, using all her muscle, she was able to work them out of the wall. In the hole behind them was the Book of Aukowies and a wooden box. Opening the box she found the Caretaker’s contract. She knew the contract was almost three hundred years old, but the book looked even older. Small pieces of the leather binding flaked off when she picked it up and the gold leaf pages inside were brittle and had aged to a light brown. She wondered briefly how much she could sell it for. While it wasn’t in great condition, something that old still had to be worth real money—especially since it was the only book of its kind. Maybe an antique store would be able to give her a price. She left the stones on the dirt floor and carried the book and the contract back upstairs, dumping both on the kitchen table.
She brought the phone over to the table and called Helen Vernon and spoke quickly to her friend. While she waited for Helen to drive over, she flipped through the pages of the Book of Aukowies. It was the first time she had ever seen it. The language inside was too archaic for her to make sense of, but the book contained illustrations of Aukowies at each stage of their development—from seedlings to full-sized monsters. Several illustrations showed mature Aukowies ravaging villages. Lydia’s eyes dulled as she studied the pictures.
“Nothing but a load of nonsense,” she muttered to herself.
Jack Durkin stopped to wipe his brow. Only a quarter to nine in the morning and his shirt was already damp with perspiration. He stood for a moment gazing at Lorne Field. Half of the field weeded, the other half filled with two-inch Aukowies. A breeze blew momentarily across the field and the Aukowies swayed a beat faster than the wind, trying to squeeze in the extra movement. He knew his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. He knew they were moving just that much faster than they should’ve been.
“Town thinks you damn things are nothing but weeds,” he muttered under his breath. “They’ll find out soon enough, won’t they?”
The Aukowies didn’t bother to answer back.
He placed his ripped baseball cap back on his head and yanked it down. A couple of safety pins held the torn fabric together enough so the cap still provided protection to his mostly bald scalp. Bending his knees and lifting, he swung the canvas sack over his shoulder and carried it to the stone pit where he dumped the Aukowie remains, then walked back to pick up his weeding where he had left off. That morning he had already come across three other Aukowies masquerading as daisies. As relentless as they were, they weren’t the brightest of critters. It took them three hundred years to come up with that daisy trick, and all he could figure was it would probably take them another three hundred years to come up with their next trick—at least as long as Lester
One night the previous winter she had forced an argument with her husband about the Caretaker’s contract which ended up sending that old fool scurrying down to the basement to prove her wrong. What he didn’t know was that earlier she had Bert hide down there. Using a flashlight, she found the two stones along the back wall that Bert had shown her. The stones were harder to pull out than she would’ve thought and for several minutes she doubted whether she had the right ones, but eventually they budged and, using all her muscle, she was able to work them out of the wall. In the hole behind them was the Book of Aukowies and a wooden box. Opening the box she found the Caretaker’s contract. She knew the contract was almost three hundred years old, but the book looked even older. Small pieces of the leather binding flaked off when she picked it up and the gold leaf pages inside were brittle and had aged to a light brown. She wondered briefly how much she could sell it for. While it wasn’t in great condition, something that old still had to be worth real money—especially since it was the only book of its kind. Maybe an antique store would be able to give her a price. She left the stones on the dirt floor and carried the book and the contract back upstairs, dumping both on the kitchen table.
She brought the phone over to the table and called Helen Vernon and spoke quickly to her friend. While she waited for Helen to drive over, she flipped through the pages of the Book of Aukowies. It was the first time she had ever seen it. The language inside was too archaic for her to make sense of, but the book contained illustrations of Aukowies at each stage of their development—from seedlings to full-sized monsters. Several illustrations showed mature Aukowies ravaging villages. Lydia’s eyes dulled as she studied the pictures.
“Nothing but a load of nonsense,” she muttered to herself.
Jack Durkin stopped to wipe his brow. Only a quarter to nine in the morning and his shirt was already damp with perspiration. He stood for a moment gazing at Lorne Field. Half of the field weeded, the other half filled with two-inch Aukowies. A breeze blew momentarily across the field and the Aukowies swayed a beat faster than the wind, trying to squeeze in the extra movement. He knew his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. He knew they were moving just that much faster than they should’ve been.
“Town thinks you damn things are nothing but weeds,” he muttered under his breath. “They’ll find out soon enough, won’t they?”
The Aukowies didn’t bother to answer back.
He placed his ripped baseball cap back on his head and yanked it down. A couple of safety pins held the torn fabric together enough so the cap still provided protection to his mostly bald scalp. Bending his knees and lifting, he swung the canvas sack over his shoulder and carried it to the stone pit where he dumped the Aukowie remains, then walked back to pick up his weeding where he had left off. That morning he had already come across three other Aukowies masquerading as daisies. As relentless as they were, they weren’t the brightest of critters. It took them three hundred years to come up with that daisy trick, and all he could figure was it would probably take them another three hundred years to come up with their next trick—at least as long as Lester
Similar Books
