Tad Williams - The Dragons of Ordinary Farm

“I’m not even leaving for that until tomorrow morning, as it happens,” said Mom. “I’m just worried about you getting on your train.” She grabbed one of Tyler’s backpack straps to get him to move faster, but Tyler yanked it away again.

“It’s the only one for days that stops in Standard Valley-I don’t think it’s a very big town. Oh, good, there it is. Come on, children! Give me a kiss. Don’t forget to write and tell me all about it. I’ll find out the address of the retreat and have Mrs. Fleener next door forward your mail to me.”

“Which means that when we write to tell you we’re prisoners of a satanic cult and they’re about to sacrifice us, you’ll find out, what, two or three weeks later?” Lucinda asked, only half joking. It was like they were Hansel and Gretel abandoned in the woods or something.

“You kids, you’re so funny.” Mom shook her head. “You know, if you stopped complaining you just might enjoy yourselves. Now, give me that kiss.”

Lucinda kissed her mother on the cheek even though she was angry, just in case it was the last time they ever saw each other. She didn’t really think they were going to get chewed up by a haymower or something, but she couldn’t help feeling frightened and sad, and the fact that she was tall enough now that Mom didn’t have to bend over to be kissed just made her feel even more of both.

“Hurry, kids. Oh, and here’s something that came in the mail for you from your uncle Gideon-I almost forgot!” Mom handed the parcel wrapped in brown paper to Tyler, since he was nearest, then blew them both a kiss and stood smiling brightly as they climbed onto the train. When they got into the compartment Lucinda went to the window. Mom waved to her as the train began to pull away. Lucinda waved back, but it made her feel like a dumb kid, like standing in line for Santa at the mall when you were too old.

We don’t even have any bread crumbs to leave a trail, she thought sadly as the station disappeared behind them. And no one’s coming to look for us, anyway.

The train was old, with paint chipped off the walls of the coaches and the seats sunken and wrinkled by what had to be a hundred years of other people’s bottoms. It made Lucinda want to stand up all the way, but Mom had said it would take them at least five hours to get to Standard Valley so she led her brother to the least gross-looking of the available seats. The compartment was fairly full, mostly with people in clothes that didn’t quite fit or who looked like English was their second or even third language. Many of them looked pretty miserable. Or maybe that was because that was how she felt.

Sometimes Lucinda really wished she knew how to stop being sad and angry.

They were a long way into their journey before either of them remembered the package Mom had given them. Tyler had been plugged into his GameBoss Portable-he loved the thing and could play it for hours at a stretch, deaf and blind to the outside world. Lucinda, eyes closed, had been thinking mournfully about the summers her friends were going to have-Caitlin and her family going to Tyner Lake to water-ski and swim and hike, and Trina and Delia, who, even though they were staying home, were still going to the city and taking guitar lessons. The two of them would probably learn to be musicians and wind up on television someday, hanging around with all the other famous people and appearing on commercials while Lucinda spent the rest of her life shearing sheep.

“This is pretty weird,” Tyler said. He had found and unwrapped the package.

“What?”

“There’s a note in it. It says, ‘Lucinda and Tyler, please read this and pay close attention. It could save your lives.’ What does that mean?”

“A note in what?”

“This book Uncle What’s-his-name sent.”

“Gideon.”

“Huh?” Tyler was turning the pages of the book now.

“Never mind.” She looked over, almost interested, but it didn’t look like a real book. It had a kind of paper cover, for one thing, like someone had made it at a copier place.

Lucinda watched the tail end of a town going past the train windows. Everything looks gross from a train window, she thought. You could see into everybody’s backyard and they always had their laundry hanging out and some pathetic, rusty old swing set for the kids.

Something flicked past the window so quickly that Lucinda jumped, startled. She thought it had actually brushed the glass-a bird, probably.

“Do cows have fire breath?” Tyler asked.

It took a second for her to understand what he’d said.

“What are you talking about?” she said finally.

“Just answer the question.”

“In real life?” She frowned, thinking. She didn’t actually know much about cows. Milk. Gross-looking things hanging down underneath them that the milk came out of. Saying “Moo.” Standing around in fields. Eating grass. None of those things had anything to do with fire. “No,” she said. “Of course they don’t.”

“Man, this is a really weird book.” Lucinda tried to take it from him to look at it, but he pulled it away from her.

“Back off. I had it first.”

She was too depressed to argue. There would be plenty of time for arguing later, anyway-all summer long, in fact. She put her feet on top of her suitcase and picked up the brown paper wrapping that he had discarded. The neat handwriting was different from the cramped scrawl in the original letter, which both she and Tyler had read several times, trying to decide if this farm visit was actually going to be as bad as they thought, or maybe even worse. The package was addressed to “ Master Tyler Jenkins and Miss Lucinda Jenkins,” which was so silly it almost made her laugh. Along the bottom, in big letters, it said, “ DO NOT OPEN UNTIL YOU ARE ON THE TRAIN TO STANDARD VALLEY. ” The back had the same “ OF ” stamp as had been on the letter.

Different handwriting. What did that mean? That their surprise great-uncle wasn’t the only crazy person they were going to have to deal with?

“Hey, listen,” Tyler said. “This is so bizarre. ‘It should never be forgotten, even in the most routine tasks of care and feeding, that these animals are large and dangerous. Even a belch from a contented

… cow… can throw out a six-foot flame. Many… cow… keepers have remembered this only after being badly burned. Flame-retardant suits and other special equipment are recommended for all tasks…’ ” He turned to her. “That means they can burp fire!”

“What are you talking about? Does the book really say that-that they are flaming cows?” Now she was beginning to feel seriously nervous. “This guy is crazy. We need to get off this train.”

“What’s asbestos? Because you’re supposed to wear some kind of gloves made of it when you feed the cows.”

Lucinda shook her head. “I don’t know. Let me see that.”

“Forget it.”

“Give it to me or you won’t get any of the money Mom gave me for lunch.”

“That’s not your money!”

“That’s not just your book, either. It’s addressed to both of us.” He only glared back at her. “Come on, Tyler. Let me look at it. This is scaring me.”

He stared for a moment longer, then handed it over. It was floppy and heavy and up close it really did look like someone had gone to Kinko’s or somewhere like that to make it themselves. The cover, which was on even cheaper paper than the rest of it, said “Care and Feeding of Cows by Gideon Goldring.” She opened it up. The very first page said:

Some may wonder why I would write this book when so few people will ever have so much as the glimpse of a cow, let alone take care of one. But the sort of information contained herein is hard-won and should not be lost. I am no longer a young man and it could be that I will not be around to share all my knowledge with whoever shall follow me. Therefore, I commit it to writing, in hopes that those who are to come will see their cows not only survive but thrive and fly high.