Dark Shadows

  For Ken, Cathy, and Sean

  —D. C.

  For Noah

  —S. G.

  Introductions

  In my search-and-rescue days, road trips meant danger, hard work, and with any luck, a rescue. My partner, Barbara, and I would hop in the car, hit the open road, and go wherever duty called. We didn’t carry much more than a first-aid kit, some beef jerky, and a high-powered flashlight.

  Now when we hit the road, we pack jelly beans, a bag of chicken feed, and a birdcage full of trouble:

  Dirt: Short, yellow, fuzzy

  Real Name: Peep

  Specialty: Foreign languages, math, colors, computer codes

  Sugar: Short, yellow, fuzzy

  Real Name: Little Boo

  Specialty: Breaking and entering, interrupting

  Poppy: Short, yellow, fuzzy

  Real Name: Poppy

  Specialty: Watching the shoe (will explain later)

  Sweetie: Short, yellow, fuzzy

  Real Name: Sweet Coconut Louise

  Specialty: None that I can see

  Well, it’s been a long ride so far. I’m done sticking my head out the window. My neck hurts, and I have swallowed all the bugs I can handle in one day. Bugs are like doughnuts. One or two is just fine, but a dozen will give you a bad stomachache.

  Chapter 1

  The birdcage bounced around in the back of Barbara’s old green station wagon. Dirt, Sugar, Poppy, and Sweetie bounced along inside of it in the storage area behind the backseat. By the time Barbara pulled off the main highway, it was after 6:00 p.m.

  “Where are we going again?” asked Poppy.

  “To a farm,” answered J. J. from the backseat.

  “What is the point of this trip again?” asked Sugar.

  “To see things you’ve never seen before,” said J. J.

  “I’ve seen everything there is to see,” said Sugar.

  “You’ve barely been out of the backyard,” said J. J.

  “You have no idea where I’ve been, pal,” said Sugar.

  “Have you ever been to a farm, Mom?” asked Dirt.

  “I grew up on the farm, silly!” answered Moosh.

  “You grew up on a farm?” Sweetie gasped. “I had no idea!”

  “We all have our secrets, kid,” said Sugar. “Mom clearly has a dark past and doesn’t want to talk about it. Let it go.”

  “I think you’re all going to enjoy it,” Moosh continued. “There’s wide-open space to run around, and there’s even a pond! We can go fishing and swimming. . . .”

  “I don’t like to get wet,” announced Sugar. “I’ll just wait in the car.”

  “We can build a bonfire and sing songs,” offered Moosh.

  “I do have a beautiful singing voice,” said Sugar. “I’ll roll the window down a crack so you can hear me.”

  “We’ll tell stories,” added Moosh.

  “Well, okay, I like a good story,” said Sugar. “I’ll stay in the car, but I’ll roll down the window halfway so I can hear you.”

  “Can we toast marshmallows?” asked Dirt.

  “That’s a wonderful idea!” said Moosh.

  “Okay,” said Sugar. “I’ll roll the window down almost all the way, but you’ll need to bring me a really long stick so I can toast my marshmallow from the car.”

  “You can’t stay in the car for a week,” said J. J.

  “You have no idea what I can do, pal,” Sugar responded.

  “The best part,” continued Moosh, “is that you’re going to meet your whole family—cousins, aunts, uncles. It’s a family reunion!”

  “There’s more of us?” asked Dirt.

  “There’s more of them?” asked J. J.

  “Of course!” replied Moosh.

  “How many more?” asked J. J.

  “Look for yourselves!” answered Moosh.

  The car had turned off the road and was moving slowly down a long, muddy driveway toward a two-story yellow house. Gathered on the front porch and spilling over onto the steps and into the driveway were excited, gabbling chickens in every size, shape, and color.

  “I’ve never seen so many chickens!” exclaimed Poppy.

  “I’ll be in the car with Sugar,” growled J. J., covering his eyes with his paws.

  Chapter 2

  “We’re here!” announced Barbara. She walked around to the back of the car, popped open the hatch, and gently placed the birdcage on the ground. “Welcome to the farm!” She grabbed her backpack, opened the birdcage door, and headed toward the house. “Make yourselves at home.”

  J. J. jumped out of the hatch and bolted toward the wide, grassy field. Moosh sprung out right behind him and then made a beeline for the front porch to reunite with her sisters. Dirt, Poppy, and Sweetie hopped out of the open birdcage and waited for Sugar to join them.

  “Well?” prodded Dirt.

  “I have a weird feeling,” said Sugar. “I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Oh-kay,” Dirt said slowly. “What kind of weird feeling?”

  “It’s called instinct, kid,” answered Sugar.

  “Oh-kay,” Dirt said slowly again.

  “Do you feel it now?” asked Sugar.

  “Feel what?” asked Dirt.

  “The weird feeling?” Sugar insisted.

  “Yes,” replied Dirt. “A mob of awkwardly silent chicken cousins is staring at us now. And you’re right, that does feel really weird.” Dirt turned to the crowd and gave them a small wave. “Be right with you!”

  J. J. trotted back to the cage. “Well?”

  “Sugar feels weird,” explained Dirt.

  “Sugar is weird,” sighed J. J. He shrugged and ran back toward the open fields.

  “Are you afraid of new places too?” asked Sugar. “You can have my shoe: I always take it with me when I feel a little bit scared. It’s right here in the car.”

  “Who said anything about being scared?” asked Sugar. “I just—”

  “Come on, Sugar!” Moosh called, emerging from the family flock on the porch. “Come meet your cousins! They’re all so excited!!”

  “Coming, Mom!” Sugar reluctantly left the cage and trudged to the front porch with Poppy, Sweetie, and Dirt.

  Before the first cousin could open his mouth, a Moosh look-alike appeared next to Moosh and blew into a whistle hanging around her neck. “Line up! Single file! No talking! Take your places!”

  Dirt and Sugar exchanged glances. “Like we practiced!” said the Moosh look-alike. The chaotic mob of porch chickens was now an orderly single-file line that wrapped all the way around the house. They marched past the chicken squad and nodded hello, giving their names one at a time.

  “Bailey.”

  “Bassie.”

  “Beatrice.”

  “Belle.”

  “Bernadette.”

  “Bert.”

  Sugar, Dirt, Poppy, and Sweetie nodded politely at each chicken as they politely introduced themselves, with no end in sight. After the first few minutes, Moosh and the Moosh-look-alike whistling chicken climbed back to the porch to catch up with their sisters.

  “How are we ever going to remember all of their names?” cried Poppy. “I don’t want to be rude!”

  “They’re in alphabetical order,” answered Dirt. “And I’m writing them all down.”

  “They all have B names, kid,” said Sugar. “You can’t alphabetize words that start with the same letter.” The chicken squad continued to nod and smile as their cousins announced their names.

  “If the first letter is the same, you use the second letter to alphabetize,” explained Dirt. “And then the third, so on and so . . .”

  “Betsy.”

  “Bibi.”

  “Bichon.”

  “Biden.”

  “Biff.�
��

  “This B business is going to take all day!” moaned Sugar. “I'm going back to the car to get a snack.”

  “You can’t leave in the middle of introductions,” Poppy protested. “That’s so rude!”

  “You only have to have manners when Mom is watching. Don’t you know anything?” Sugar took a quick look around. “What I need is a decoy. Bring me a loofah sponge, a hot glue gun, and six yards of yellow chiffon. . . .”

  “We don’t have any of those things,” replied Dirt, still nodding and smiling as their cousins filed past them.

  “Fine,” said Sugar, “we’ll do it the easy way.” Sugar used her feet to gather the loose chicken feathers on the ground into a pile in front of her, until it was higher than she was tall.

  “That is never going to work,” said Dirt.

  Sugar took off her glasses and placed them on the pile.

  “Perfect!” she declared. Then she ducked behind it and headed back to the car.

  “Bladimir.”

  “Blaire.”

  “Blake.”

  “Bring back some jelly beans!” Dirt called after her.

  “Blanca.”

  “Blanche.”

  “Blane.”

  “B right back,” Sugar answered, cracking herself up as she hurried away.

  Chapter 3

  Sugar hopped up into the open car and rummaged around the back searching for the jelly beans. “Would be a lot easier with my glasses,” she mumbled as she tossed things out of her way and out of the car. “AHA!” She pulled the bag of jelly beans out from under the fishing gear and had just popped a red jelly bean into her mouth and plopped herself down next to Poppy’s shoe when she sensed someone behind her. She turned around, but no one was there.

  “Ha-hoo, ha-hoo, ha-hoo.” Sugar stopped chewing when she heard the sound of someone breathing. She swallowed her half-chewed jelly bean in one gulp. As she peered around the edge of the car, a long, dark shadow appeared at her feet. Her eyes went wide. Her heart raced. “Who’s there?” she demanded, spinning around for a second time. The shadow was gone.

  “Step away from the vehicle,” said a deep voice from behind her again. “Slowly, and with your hands up.” Sugar turned around, slowly, with her wings up, to find a large speckled chicken with a wide face, enormous eyes, and a long gray string hanging out of its mouth, standing in the spot where, not one second ago, there had been nobody.

  “Take it easy, pal,” Sugar replied. “Just grabbing my jelly beans.”

  “Those jelly beans do not belong to you,” answered the large chicken. “They belong to the visiting cousins. Now do as I say and step away from the vehicle.”

  “Ah, just a misunderstanding.” Sugar chuckled nervously, taking two giant steps backward. “I am one of the visiting cousins.”

  “No, you’re not,” boomed the large chicken. “I met them already. One’s got a pointy head; one’s got a notebook and a pencil; one has a big, round face; and the last one barely looks like a pile of feathers, she’s so tiny. Cute little thing with glasses.”

  “That’s me,” insisted Sugar. “I’m the cute one! Really, I just ducked away for a—”

  “There’s nothing cute about you,” declared the large chicken. “And besides, the cute one wore glasses.” He picked Sugar up with an incredibly sharp pinch of his toes and held her off the ground. “I just checked, and all four cousins are still up by the house. They’ll be making polite introductions for a good long while. There’s another eighty-five more chickens to go until they get to the end of the line.”

  “That’s exactly why you don’t recognize me,” said Sugar, quickly hatching a new plan.

  “I know family when I see it.” The large speckled chicken with the wide face, enormous eyes, and a long gray string hanging out of his mouth pulled Sugar in closer to get a better look. “And I do not know you.”

  “Well, like you said, it’s an awfully big family,” Sugar declared. “Although, I’ll admit, it kind of hurts my feelings that you don’t remember me. We played together once . . . down by the . . . pond.”

  “We did? What’s your name?” asked the large chicken, looking confused.

  Sugar thought of all the cousins she had met earlier. “My name is . . . Bugar.” She regretted saying it immediately.

  “Booger?” But the large speckled chicken with the wide face, enormous eyes, and the long gray string hanging out of his mouth didn’t laugh. “Who’s your mom, Booger?”

  “She’s the big one . . . with white feathers . . . and small black eyes. Looks just like her sisters. She might be upset if I told her you roughed me up. Might tell the other moms, too. I’d hate for that to happen. Wouldn’t you?”

  The large speckled chicken with the wide face, enormous eyes, and the long gray string hanging out of his mouth placed Sugar gently back down on the ground.

  Sugar brushed herself off. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

  “Frizzle,” answered the chicken.

  “Frizzle?” repeated Sugar suspiciously. “Why don’t you have a B name like everybody else?”

  “Did I say Frizzle? I meant Befrizzle,” said the large speckled chicken with the wide face, enormous eyes, and a long gray string hanging out of his mouth. “Frizzle is my . . . nickname.”

  “Befrizzle, huh?” repeated Sugar. “I don’t think I trust you, Befrizzle.” Sugar narrowed her eyes before turning on her heel to walk away.

  “I keep an eye on things around here, Booger. I watch things. I see things. I know things,” added Befrizzle. “And I know you don’t belong anywhere near that car.”

  “Nobody tells Bugar where she belongs, pal. Bugar can be anywhere. Under your seat, on your pillow, even right under your nose.” She regretted saying it immediately. “What I meant to say . . . Befrizzle?” she called. But Befrizzle was gone.

  And so were the jelly beans.

  Chapter 4

  Sugar crawled into the pile of decoy feathers. Her glasses fell into place and the feathers fell to the ground around her. She nodded as the last of the chickens made their introductions.

  “Buddy.”

  “Bunk.”

  “Buster.”

  “It’s about time!” Dirt cried. “Did you bring the jelly beans?

  “The jelly beans are gone,” Sugar answered.

  “You ate two bags of jelly beans?” Dirt cried.

  “There were two?” asked Sugar. “I only saw one!”

  “We always hide one from you,” said Sweetie.

  “I can’t believe you ate all the jelly beans!” complained Poppy.

  “I can’t believe you have a secret bag!” Sugar complained right back. “Anyway, I didn’t eat them! Cousin Befrizzle took them!”

  “Butter.”

  “Butterball.”

  “Cousin who?” asked Dirt.

  “Buzz.”

  “Buzzy.”

  “Befrizzle,” answered Sugar. “Some kind of chicken security guard or something. Followed me back to the car, accused me of stealing, and then disappeared with the jelly beans! Unbelievable!”

  “Um, Sugar,” said Dirt, checking her list of cousins. “There is no Cousin Befrizzle.”

  “What do you mean?” said Sugar.

  “If we had a cousin named Befrizzle,” said Dirt, “he would have been in line right here between Beatrice and Belle. See for yourself.”

  “Maybe he just got bored and skipped the introductions,” said Sugar.

  “That would be very rude,” said Poppy.

  “I did it,” replied Sugar.

  “Like I said,” answered Poppy, shooting his sister a look.

  “I am telling you guys,” said Sugar. “Befrizzle is our cousin, and he is a large speckled chicken with a wide face, enormous eyes, and a long gray string hanging out of his mouth.”

  “You do realize that description is pretty strange and that name sounds completely made up, right?” asked Dirt.

  “Believe it or not, you may be on to something, Dirt!” sa
id Sugar. “Granted, I didn’t have my glasses on, but there was definitely something off about Befrizzle. Something my street smarts and chicken instincts picked up on. I think he may have pretended to be something he’s not just to get to those jelly beans!”

  “Seems like a lot of work just to get some jelly beans,” remarked Sweetie. “Plus, that would be really rude.”

  “A big chicken with a dark heart will stop at nothing to get jelly beans!” declared Sugar.

  Dirt let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, Sugar. We’ll go back up to the car and see if anything else is out of place.” She turned to Poppy and Sweetie. “Come on, guys, let’s look around.”

  “For what?” asked Poppy.

  “I’m not sure,” whispered Dirt.

  “Evidence!” shouted Sugar.

  “What kind of evidence?” asked Dirt.

  “Hair, fibers, paint chips, glass fragments!” shouted Sugar. “The usual!”

  Dirt paused. “Okay, Sugar, let’s go see if Bedrazzle left any paint chips or fibers behind. Right, guys?” She winked at Poppy and Sweetie.

  “Befrizzle!” said Sugar, exasperated.

  “The more you say it, the more made up it sounds,” Dirt said, and they headed for the car.

  Chapter 5

  As Dirt, Sugar, Poppy, and Sweetie walked toward the car, their cousins lined up, single file, and followed behind. “What are we going to do about them?” asked Sweetie under her breath.

  Dirt stopped for a moment, considered the hundred or so chicken cousins standing behind them, and then felt her stomach gurgle. “I think we will be saved by the bell.”

  “Cousin Belle?” asked Poppy.

  “Wait for it,” replied Dirt.

  Sure enough, the dinner bell rang, and the line of chickens reversed direction and sped to the barnyard. Sugar, Poppy, Dirt, and Sweetie continued up the driveway.

  “That’s a very long dinner line,” observed Dirt. “It will be at least an hour before anybody realizes we’re not at the end of it.”