Hammer 10: Wheat

Corvan searched frantically through the dirty clothes he’d kicked under his bed, but the hammer was not there. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he thought back to the previous day. The last time he held it was in his back pocket at Kate’s house and then up the back alley so it must have been in his pants when he changed clothes on the back porch. His mother was doing the wash when he fell asleep. If she put his pants through the wringer, the hammer would make a real mess of things. Two years ago, he’d left marbles in his pockets, and they had jammed the rollers and ruined the gears. His mother was not impressed. His only hope was that she had gone to bed without wringing out the wash. Crossing to the window, he found his pants swaying gently on the wash line, far out where the line ended on a post near the outhouse. “Oh great,” he muttered.

Making his way quickly downstairs, he forgot about the step just below the landing and put his foot in the middle, instead of off to one side. The stair let out its customary low groan. Holding his breath, he waited for his mother’s snoring to resume, then crept out to the back porch.

The wringer washer grinned at him from its corner. It always reminded him of a robot from a science-fiction story: its wringer head hanging over its squat body and twin rollers like yellowed teeth in an oversized mouth. He inspected the rollers and gears, but everything looked fine. Either his mother had found the hammer, or it was still down in the rinse water she always saved for watering her garden.

Rolling up his sleeve, Corvan plunged his hand into the cool water and felt around the groove at the bottom of the round tub. All he found was the scorched half dollar from the chest in his room. Dropping it into his pocket, he looked back through the screen door into the kitchen. If his mother had found the hammer, she might have put it in the secret hiding place where she kept the family cash.

Pushing down firmly on the screen door latch to avoid any squeaks from the hinges, he crossed to the pantry and pressed on a knot in the wall. A small door popped open to reveal a hidden alcove. Grandfather had built the hiding spot for his mother, but Corvan had found it one day while searching for chocolate chips. This time, it contained nothing: no chocolate, no cash, and no hammer. Corvan clicked the hidden door shut and retreated to the back porch. Maybe the hammer had slipped out of his pocket when he used the outhouse.

The dirt path was still warm on his bare feet, and the moonlight illuminated his footprints returning from the outhouse earlier that afternoon. The wooden latch on the toilet had been left open, which meant he was the last one to use it. Corvan pulled the rough plank door wide on its leather hinges, and the familiar rank odor wafted out. Crouching, he searched around the wooden platform and behind the stack of old newspapers and the remains of the Sears catalogue.

The hammer wasn’t there. He shut and latched the door, then headed in the direction of Kate’s back alley. Corvan glanced up the path that led to the steep side of the rock. A set of odd marks were outlined by the moonlight. He bent low to examine a set of animal tracks that had been partially wiped out, as if the animal had been dragging something along. Usually that would indicate a predator’s successful kill being taken away, but there was no blood on the ground.

Following the tracks led to the edge of the rock, Corvan heard pebbles rolling and clinking together overhead. Dropping in close to the rock, he climbed on all fours until he reached the crown of rocks, silhouetted against the star filled sky.

Crawling quietly forward, Corvan peered around one of the boulders. A shadowy figure was crouched near the solitary rock in the center. Dirt and pebbles sprayed out as the animal dug furiously at the base of the lone boulder. When the creature stopped digging, it stood up on its hind feet.

The lizard!

Corvan watched in fascination as the reptile picked up two strips of cloth from the ground, then wrapped them carefully around its front claws. It held them up to inspected them, and in the soft light, it looked like it was wearing mittens. Corvan stared, transfixed by the bizarre sight.The lizard stooped to drag something back to where it had been digging. The hole in the ground appeared to be too small for the large creature, but its body seemed to melt and flow inside until only its cloth-wrapped claws remained in view holding up a dark object. Corvan moved a bit closer. It was the hammer. The lizard had taken it from the outhouse.

The cloth-wrapped claws abruptly disappeared into the hole, leaving the hammer standing upright for a moment before it toppled to the ground.

Corvan rushed forward and was reaching for the hammer just as an explosion of dirt shot out of the hole into his face. Blinded, he sat back to stare down, shake his head and clear the grit from his eyes.

A guttural screech snapped his head up, and a dark blur hit him squarely in the chest and knocked him onto his back. The lizard jumped up on him, raking its cloth-bound claws across his face as it screeched in frustration. Corvan hollered and knocked it off, rolling onto his knees and wiping his eyes.

Corvan tensed for another attack, but the lizard was standing still and unwinding the cloth from its claws. Its keen eyes burned with hatred. Corvan frantically felt around the ground for a weapon, but there were no rocks or sticks within reach.

The lizard leapt toward him, landing with its front claws outstretched and its back legs straddling the hammer. It hissed, but it didn’t try to pick up the hammer. For some reason the creature couldn’t touch it with bare claws. If he could grab it first, he could use the hammer to keep the creature at bay and escape.

The lizard inched forward, staying between Corvan and the hammer, with its pointed front claws extended to drive him back. Its hind feet scraped across the muddy piece of tarp Corvan had ripped off the fort and Corvan glanced down. If he yanked the tarp out from under its feet, he’d have a chance to grab the hammer. Corvan inched his hand toward the loose end of the large canvas sheet.

The lizard pulled its thin lips back to expose its pointed teeth. Hate-filled eyes bore into his as it took another step toward him.

Corvan yanked as hard as he could and the lizard tumbled back past the hammer and slammed up against the central boulder. Corvan jumped forward, tossing the heavy canvas over the creature, then scooped up the hammer. He retreated to the outer ring of boulders as a flurry of claws tore the old tarp to shreds.

The lizard emerged with eyes blazing. It took two quick steps toward him, but when it saw the hammer in his hand, it stopped.

Glaring through narrow slits, it snarled at him in a low, hoarse voice. “You will never be the Cor-Van. You could not survive the wrath of my master.”

Corvan blinked. The lizard could talk?

“You are only a child,” the lizard rasped. “Return the hammer to me, and I will spare your life.”

Fear constricted Corvan’s throat and all he managed to croak out was, “Go away.”

The lizard fell back as if it had been kicked, and its eyes widened in fear. Corvan held the hammer higher and took a step forward. “I said to go away. Go back to where you came from.”

The creature retreated before him, it eyes flickering from one side to the other. With a frustrated hiss, it gave him one last angry glance, then melted down the dark hole it had dug.

Grabbing the largest rock he could lift from the firepit ring with one hand, Corvan dropped it over the hole and stomped it into place. Stuffing the hammer into his back pocket, he piled on more rocks until he couldn’t lift any more. His sides heaved. He fell to his knees and retched. Shaking uncontrollably, he crawled to the western side and collapsed against one of the outer rocks. Never in his life had he been so afraid. People like Billy Fry were mean, but this thing was so … evil.

Corvan shook his head. The lizard said it had a master. That must be why it wore a collar, but this couldn’t be happening. Animals didn’t talk. The hammer was messing with his mind just like when he said it had to go back. It was more powerful than he imagined.

Corvan pulled the hammer out of his back pocket and an overwhelming awareness of danger flowed through him but then he sensed something else. An even greater power was holding the immediate threat at bay. An unseen force was flowing around and through him and he breathed a sigh of relief.

A shadow flickered past his feet, and Corvan scrambled away through the western gap and stood by the drainage channel. An owl hunting for prey on silent wings swept just overhead. He let out a long breath as he watched it fly over the field, looking for a mouse or a gopher. He glanced back at the pile of rocks over the lizard’s hole. Gophers always had a second entrance to their holes so they could escape. The lizard likely did as well and was likely watching him even now, or maybe it had left to bring back more of its kind to attack him.

Cold sweat broke on his forehead as he scanned the circle of rocks. The shadows could easily conceal the vicious creature. He backed out of the rocks, bolted down the water channel, and headed for his house. As he ran, he imagined an entire pack of lizards bearing down on him. With a final burst of speed, he reached the safety of the porch and turned to look back. The owl hooted from the trees, but the backyard was still.

Since the lizard had retrieved the hammer from the outhouse, it obviously knew where he lived. If it came back with reinforcements, or even worse, its master, the only thing that could save his family would be the power of the hammer.

Corvan stared out the porch door at the shadowed outline of Castle Rock. The lizard was afraid to touch the hammer, so it had wrapped its claws in cloth. He put his other hand to his face. It felt a bit sore, but at least there were no bloody scratches. If its claws had been free, it would have scratched his eyes out.

Moving deeper into the shadows of the porch, Corvan sank into the moth-eaten armchair. Tonight, he would keep guard over his home and protect his mother from harm. With the hammer firmly in his right hand, he stretched his arm out on the armrest, like a king with his scepter on a royal throne. Holding it this way gave him a sense of authority, and he envisioned himself holding an entire legion of lizards at bay.

When the rooster crowed, Corvan shook off the sleep that had been dodging him all night long. The gentle light of dawn was spreading from the east. He had made it through the night and his home was safe but every muscle in his body ached, as he pushed himself out of the armchair. As far as he knew, the lizard stayed underground during the day. Creeping back up to his room, he slipped the hammer under his pillow.

As he undressed, the blackened half dollar fell out of his pocket and rolled under the bed. Too tired to chase it, Corvan crawled under the sheets and fell asleep.