The Motion of Puppets(69)
“The man in the glass jar.” Puck clapped his hand to his mouth, suddenly aware that he had let out a secret.
Intrigued by the prospect, Kay pestered the Devil, pulling on his tail to get his attention. “Will you take us there? To the upper floor.”
In the din, he pretended not to hear her question. The Russians were singing about vodka, the bunraku witch played a surfing song on the koto, and Puck ran amok, spreading mischief. Even the Good Fairy had joined the party, branches thrown into the air, allowing the children from the shoe to have a good climb.
“I want to see more,” Kay said.
The Devil took her hand. “All in good time. We should be getting back. We can’t leave No? swinging from a rope all night long.”
“How did you know about what we were doing in the stalls?”
“This barn is at least a century old and is filled with cracks and chinks and holes through which one might easily spy. You don’t think I would just up and abandon my old friends without keeping an eye on you. We’ve covered the whole perimeter of the bottom floor and are nearly back where we started. Take a look.…”
Through a sliver in the wall, Kay could see the stalls and the trough, the backside of the Queen obscuring most of the view, but she glimpsed No? on the beam, the noose around her neck, continuing her filibuster.
“Before we go any farther, we should rescue our old comrades. Let them know that this is everyone’s barn and that they have nothing to fear from these so-called others. There are no others, only us, all the same. One big happy family.”
“And then you’ll take us all to the loft?” Kay asked. “To see the Original?”
“If you hadn’t come to investigate the noises at the door, I would have come back to you in any case. There’s a great celebration to be held tonight in our honor, for the puppets of the Quatre Mains. All we need do is convince old Firkin and the Queen to let our people go. Now, go fetch our bosky friend. We have an entrance to make. Not every day one comes back from the dead.”
“Good-bye, good-bye,” the fairies cried in their twinkling voices.
“Hurry back,” the samurai said. “Don’t miss the shindig.” A Russian dissident blew a kiss and winked as they passed. They wound their way back through the maze, astonished a second time at the new worlds just around each corner.
*
They were lost. Driving around rural Vermont in the dark looking for a place to eat, they were not only hopelessly off course but shaken by the events back at the farm. That dog had been all teeth, and those two children of the corn had given them the creeps. At one point, Mitchell suggested that they head back toward Bennington for the night or better yet to forget the whole thing and go home to New York, but with the help of the GPS, they found an inn still serving supper.
Over onion rings and ales, they hatched a new plot. On the back page of the menu, Theo drew a crude map of the property, the position of the farmhouse, the bus, and the barn. He penciled in the meadow and the stream and the small wood. With his friends’ assistance, he added the road that curved past the property.
“We’ll go back when they are asleep. Dr. Mitchell, you will let us out here on the road behind the barn and then circle round past the farmhouse and park just out of sight. We will hike through the woods, across the stream, over the fence, and up the hill. Egon, are you certain there will be an entrance at the back?”
Raising his tipsy head, Egon wobbled. “Mon ami, one is never certain of a theory until confronted by proof, and even then I am not sure about anything having to do with these puppets and the crazies back at that place. Before I met you, life was a simple thing: a warm bed, a cold beer, now and then a hot woman. But let us leave that all aside. We are here now and must see it through. What was your question?”
“Another way into the barn?”
“Yes, that’s where the sheeps and the goats would go in and out. A cote. Why would they lock the back door? Perhaps there is no door at all, merely a hole in the wall.”
Theo stared at his friend, trying to judge his sobriety. “Good, then we sneak in, look for this puppet—”
“How will you see in the dark?” Mitchell asked.
“Flashlights.” Egon rubbed his hands together. “I never travel without them. And I know what to do if we meet up with that hound from hell.” Glancing around to make sure none of the waitstaff was watching, he wrapped a piece of steak in a napkin and crammed it into his jacket pocket.
“This is more complicated than I thought,” Mitchell said. “And more dangerous.”
Theo offered him a way out. “Let us take your car, then. You could spend the night at the inn, and we’ll be back in the morning.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. All of my life I have been reading about gods and monsters, the great quests, and I have gotten no further than a book in the armchair. Count me in, Harper. I am honored to be one of the Argonauts.”
Flush with drink and food, the route well mapped, they set out and arrived at the farm just after midnight. A light appeared in one upstairs window, but no new vehicles were parked in the drive. The girl would be reading in her room, the boy would be asleep, hopefully next to the dog. Mitchell continued on as planned and drove around the bend to the spot on the road at the edge of the woods.
“How long should I wait?” Mitchell asked. “Before I get worried?”