

### THE GREEN BEANS

### VOLUME ONE

### THE MYSTERY OF HOLLOW OAK

### GABRIEL GADGET

Copyright 2011 Gabriel Gadget

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

### STRANGE THINGS ARE AFOOT

In the rural town of Hollow Oak, life is good for a team of young baseball players known as the Green Beans. Their days are filled with friendship, fun, and the game that they love.

In recent days, Neil (the Beans' fearless centerfielder) has heard strange things in the forest that lies just beyond the outfield fence. Although he hasn't been able to pinpoint the source of the weird noises, he can't shake the feeling of being watched. Neil has begun to suspect that there's something prowling within the woods, hidden among the trees and shadows. He's not sure what it is... but whatever it is, it's _BIG_.

His curiosity engaged, Neil convinces his closest friends (and a Labradoodle named Nibbler) to join him on a quest to discover what's roaming the forest of Hollow Oak. Excited by the prospect of adventure, they eagerly agree to join him in the search. But the Green Beans will soon realize that they are not prepared for what awaits them, and that there is more to this mystery than they can imagine...

### Chapter One

### Alone in the Outfield

_Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_.

From his position in centerfield, Neil heard a strange noise, coming from some place well behind him. Turning his head, he peered into the deep forest that began just beyond the outfield fence.

The noise seemed to have come from _somewhere_ in that green maze of trees and brush. But it had been very faint, and Neil could see nothing out of the ordinary. Nor did he hear the strange sound anymore. He soon dismissed it, and looked back toward the infield, patiently awaiting his turn to chase down fly balls.

School had ended not long ago, and he was at practice for his baseball team, patrolling his customary position of centerfield. A lot of players didn't like the outfield. Neil, however, loved it.

He considered the vast, grassy expanses of the outfield to be his realm, his kingdom. It was fearlessly defended by his sharp eyes, his fast feet, and the ever-so-reliable webbing of his baseball glove. Any balls that made it past the diamond of the infield would be gobbled up by Neil's glove, of that he was sure. Ensnared in his trusty leather, like a fly in a spider's web!

Neil's dad said that this attitude made him confident, but not cocky. Neil liked the sound of that just fine, but he thought a more accurate explanation was this: he just loved to catch baseballs.

At times, he thought this might even be a compulsion that was beyond his control. Sometimes, he thought that he had no choice but to catch baseballs. When one was sent to the outfield, he went after it like his friend's Labradoodle, Nibbler, went after a thrown stick.

There was no time to think about it, really. He just went after the ball, knowing that he must catch it, and knowing that he would.

It was his duty, perhaps even his calling in life. His dad said that when Neil was patrolling the outfield, the team was in good hands. And his friends and teammates seemed to agree.

There was nothing better, Neil thought, than tracking down a baseball as it charted its path across the sky. Especially on those occasions when somebody belted a ball so high that it seemed it might break through the atmosphere, catching fire as it went. Those were what he referred to as _whoppers_.

The baseball would become so tiny, it resembled a distantly passing airplane. Neil would track it from the left and right, deeper and deeper into the outfield, until it finally began to descend, gaining velocity as it came.

Eventually, the baseball would come down, and it was in Neil's glove that it would safely land. As if by magic, it sometimes seemed. It was crazy to think that something so small could travel so far, and that Neil could successfully track it down and catch it.

Some players thought that it was sort of insulting to be put out there, away from all the action of the infield. But this wasn't true... Neil knew better. A good deal of the fun of the sport occurred in the outfield.

Even on routine fly balls, Neil managed to work a somersault or cartwheel into the catch. After the ball was safely secured in his glove, of course. And he loved it when line drives to the outfield would test the limits of his speed, letting him stretch out for the catch at the final moment, throwing his body about with what his dad called _reckless abandon_.

His dad referred to these as _circus catches_ and _crowd pleasers_ , and he said that Neil performed these because he had an incredible passion for the game. Neil agreed with this.

His dad also said that Neil was able to throw his body around like that because he was ten years old, which made him extra durable, and able to bounce off of the ground like a rubber ball. Neil wasn't so sure about all that, but he guessed that it made sense. He didn't exactly consider himself a rubber ball, but he sure enjoyed getting dirty, much like all of his friends.

Out here, on the baseball field, everyone else called Neil's dad _Coach_. Right now, Coach was standing at home plate, batting balls to the infielders. He was giving them practice at fielding grounders.

Of course, this meant that there wasn't much going on in centerfield at the moment, but Neil was okay with that. Another thing he liked about the outfield was that it gave him time to just hang out and think about things.

When Neil explained this, his dad told him that it was called _personal reflection_. Neil liked the sound of that. He just liked to lose himself in his thoughts, and let his mind wander. Centerfield was not only his position, but also his sanctuary... the place where he felt at peace with himself and the world.

Sure, there were two other outfielders, but they were far to the left and right, lost in their own thoughts, idly kicking at the turf with their cleats. Neil felt like he was alone in the outfield, his kingdom, his realm.

Deep in center, Neil took a knee, to rest his feet. Even though his baseball cleats were well worn and broken in, they still weren't the most comfortable shoes in the world.

As he rested, he could hear the _ting_ of his dad's aluminum bat, and the chatter of the infielders as they fielded the ground balls. He saw them hooting, and hollering, and kicking up great clouds of dust.

Neil wore his glove on his left hand, but his throwing hand was bare, and he ran it through the blades of the freshly cut grass. The feel of it beneath his fingers, and the familiar smell of it in his nose, brought him a happiness that he could not quite describe. He felt the sun above, warming him, and he adjusted his ball cap over his short, sandy hair, in order to shield his eyes.

As Neil rested, there came again the strange noise from behind his shoulder. This time, it was louder. Closer. As before, it sounded something like this: _Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_.

Torn from his daydreams, Neil looked behind himself, but he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. About twenty feet away, the fence encircled the outfield. Beyond it, there lay the forest. It was thick with all manner of trees and vegetation. A sea of green and shadow, it was hard to see very deep within.

There came, once again, the sound. _Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_.

His curiosity engaged, Neil rose to his feet and approached the fence. As he walked closer to the woods, he could hear the sound continue. When he reached the fence, he draped his arms over it and leaned against it, studying the forest beyond.

Neil adjusted his ball cap, and peered into the woods. He couldn't see what was causing the sound. It was hidden behind the layers of trees and plant life. It sounded like some kind of animal, moving around and crushing the brush beneath its feet. But whatever it was... it sounded _big_.

_Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_.

Neil had a strong imagination, and it was immediately put to work. Was it a deer? A moose, maybe? Even a bear? He nodded to himself in excitement at these possibilities. Maybe it could even be a tiger!

Sure, there weren't supposed to be any tigers in New Hampshire, but one could have escaped from a zoo or a traveling circus, he reasoned. It was possible, wasn't it? One could only hope.

After all, Neil had no idea how far back these woods went. When he thought about it, there was really no telling what secrets they might hold.

It was strange, though... his skin felt tingly, and he noticed that the hairs on his arms were standing up. He almost felt as if he were not peering into the woods, looking for an animal, but that the animal was _peering out_ of the woods, _watching him_.

" _Heads up, Neil!_ " called his dad.

Coach had belted a fly ball deep to centerfield. Neil quickly turned away from the fence, and tilted his head back to the sky. His eyes were drawn to the ball, as it climbed, higher and higher. His dad had smacked a real whopper, and Neil's attention became completely focused on it.

There was nothing but Neil, the ball, and the pursuit of it.

He was alone in the outfield.

Wasn't he?

### Chapter Two

### A Bad Hop

As Neil was chasing the fly ball, Jack abandoned his position at shortstop. He ran some distance into the outfield, in order to serve as the cutoff man, for relaying the ball back to second base.

"Whew!" Jack muttered to himself, as he watched the baseball hanging in the air, for what seemed forever. "That's a heck of a whopper Coach hit there." He nodded in consideration. "Yep."

He adjusted the brim of his cap, so as to better track the progress of the ball. It had been hit so high and so far, Jack thought that it could give even Neil trouble. And Neil was the best outfielder Jack had ever seen, in all of the Hollow Oak Baseball League.

But his concern proved unnecessary. Locked onto the descending baseball, Neil positioned himself beneath it, and it was into his waiting glove that it landed. As per the usual, Neil managed to roll into a somersault as he caught the ball. He let loose with a strange noise of triumph as he did so. Sort of like... _boo-yah!_ Something like that.

Jack chuckled, and held his glove in the air, signaling for the ball. "You got _lucky_ , Neil!"

Neil rolled smoothly to his feet, and threw the ball to Jack. "Hah! You could put that on YouTube!"

"Showboat!" Coach called, as the rest of the infielders giggled. "Get the ball to second, Jack. Quick!"

Jack tossed the ball to the second baseman, who was covering the bag, awaiting the relay.

"Good work, Beans! Keep it up. Always assume the base runners will be on the move," Coach said. "Keep that glove handy, Jack. Coming at ya!"

Coach reached into a big metal bucket that rested on the ground near home plate. It was full of a near-infinite supply of baseballs, and he plucked one from within.

Coach tossed the ball a couple of feet into the air before himself, and then brought his aluminum baseball bat forward, with an expert stroke. As if by magic, Coach had the ability to drill baseballs wherever he so desired. This was an incredibly useful skill, when you were giving your team fielding practice. Or _working them over_ , as Coach liked to call it.

_Ting!_ There was impact, and then the ball was screaming across the grass of the infield. Propelled from the bat of Coach, it came at Jack, who had returned to mid-depth at the shortstop position.

When the baseball reached the place where the grass met the dirt, it took what Coach liked to call a _bad hop_. Every so often, a grounder would hit an uneven piece of the earth in just such a way that it would bounce in an unpredictable manner.

This particular ball had been rolling fast, but tight to the ground. When it took the bad hop, it leaped into the air, wildly altering its trajectory. Jack had been bracing himself, ready to scoop up the grounder in his glove. His knees were bent, glove low to the ground, eyes tracking the ball.

As it lurched into the bad hop, the ball's direction changed dramatically. It bounced off of the ground, and went high and wide of Jack. Without having the time to think, his arm moved by reflex alone.

Jack's reaction was a good one, and the ball landed neatly in the center of his glove. As he snagged the ball in the middle of its bad hop, it yielded an incredibly satisfying sound.

_Thwack!_ Sort of like the sound you got when you threw an undesirable sandwich with slightly crusty bread against the wall of the school cafeteria... Not that Jack knew anything about that.

The infielders gasped in a collective _ooh_ of admiration. Far behind him, Jack could hear Neil chortling in the outfield, before yelling, " _You_ got lucky!"

Jack turned and looked at his glove, somewhat stunned to see that the baseball was inside of it. " _Hoo-hah!_ " he cried in wonder.

" _To first!_ " Coach yelled, pointing toward the bag, and jumping wildly about home plate.

"Oh, yeah," Jack muttered to himself. "Can't forget about that."

In his excitement at snatching such a terrifically bad hop from midair, he had almost forgotten. Jack transferred the ball from his glove to his bare hand, and pivoted his body toward first base. Ignoring his racing heart and accelerated breathing, he forced himself to take his time, and remember what Coach had taught him.

_Don't rush the throw. Visualize it. See it before you do it. Full extension of the arm. And let the ball roll off of your fingertips_.

Jack listened to this voice, and followed the advice, just as he had countless times in the past. He released the ball, and it flew true, right at the waiting glove of the first baseman.

"There you go, Beans," called Coach. "Way to finish the play."

He reached back into the metal bucket near his feet, and continued to smack baseballs at every position. _Ting! Ting! Ting!_ Coach gave every player ample practice. He was really working them over.

Finally, his bucket o' baseballs depleted, Coach took a break. Wheezing with breath, he leaned over, propping the end of his bat against the ground to help support his weight.

The best way to describe Neil's dad, or Coach, was as follows: Big, bearded, and bespectacled. Also helping in this theme of "B"s was the fact that his name was Bob Bandernath, though all the players generally called him _Coach_.

He removed his cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead. His shirt was soaked. It seemed to defy reason, how much sweat he produced. The children had all pointed this out to him many times in the past. Between gasps for air, Coach usually muttered something along the lines of, "Someday, _you'll_ be old!"

This seemed sort of unlikely to Neil, Jack, and all the other players, however. Coach was forty years old, an age that seemed an impossible distance away to this gang of ten and eleven-year-olds. His beard was even sprinkled with salt and pepper hair, which proved to be a great source of amusement.

"You sure do sweat a lot, Coach," Jack pointed out. "Did you know that?"

"Yes," Coach wheezed between breaths. "You may have mentioned that a time or two."

Sara and Maria (the only girls on the team) watched from where they were resting on the bench. Though Sara was slightly taller than her younger sister, the two were quite similar in appearance. Each of them had a wiry build, a coffee-colored ponytail, and a spring to their step. They giggled at their bearded, bespectacled coach, as he sucked in air through his gaping mouth.

"You okay, Coach?" Sara asked. She was sharing a huge pack of shredded, grape-flavored bubblegum with Maria. A big, purple bubble expanded from her lips, finally bursting upon her face. "You want us to get in there for a while?"

"Whew," Coach gasped. Between breaths, he admitted, "I might have overdone it a bit there. But I've really got to work you guys over, you know? Your defensive improvements are remarkable. _Remarkable_ , I say!"

"Need a break, yet, Coach?" Maria asked. She laughed, peeling her own burst bubble from off of her face.

Coach nodded his head in consent. Beads of sweat ran down his face, sending his glasses skidding down the bridge of his nose. "You're up, girls. Give these lunatics some batting practice."

### Chapter Three

### Battery Power

As previously mentioned, Sara and Maria were sisters. And they were what Coach liked to refer to as the _battery_ of the team.

Sara was the team's pitcher, and Maria (one year younger than her sister) was the catcher. Together, they made for a fearsome combo. Throughout the league of Hollow Oak, they were dreaded. Sara, for her accurate arm, and Maria for her ability to dial in her sister's pitching power.

There was no greater action on a baseball team than that which occurred between pitcher and catcher. They were the fuel, the spark... they were the battery power. Sara and Maria were that battery, and they were also the only girls on the team, a point that they took pride in.

Standing atop the pitcher's mound, Sara gripped the ball in her bare hand, twisting it within her glove. Her eyes were locked upon her younger sister, Maria, who was crouched behind home plate.

Maria's freckled face was shielded behind her catcher's mask, the bars of the grill casting shadows upon her features. Her glove, an oversized catcher's mitt, clenched in anticipation of the coming pitch.

"Better brace yourself, Neil," Maria advised. "Here comes the heat!"

"Consider me braced," Neil declared.

He dug into the batter's box, kicking the spikes of his old cleats into the dirt for purchase. An aluminum bat was gripped tightly in his hands, and he reared it back, gently swiveling it as he waited for the pitch, mimicking the motions he had seen his favorite big league players perform on television. The bat was Neil's favorite, and it was called _Green Lightning_.

Sara flashed him her teeth (which were rather purple in color at the moment) with a quick smile, and then began her pitching windup. Keeping the ball palmed in her glove, she rotated it in her right hand, until the stitches were lined up in the place where she liked to keep them beneath her fingers.

She raised her arms above her head, still keeping the ball hidden inside of her glove, squeezed in her throwing hand. At the same time, she brought her left foot from the ground, raising her knee (to generate power, just as Coach had taught her).

As Sara's foot began to return to the pitcher's mound, her hands came back toward waist level. The hand holding the ball was finally withdrawn from the glove. Her pitching arm pulled back, and then came forward, as her left cleat impacted the dirt.

She had done this thousands of times before. Perhaps even _tens of thousands_ of times. To throw a ball, and to put it where she wanted to, was an immensely satisfying feat for Sara.

When she had first joined the Hollow Oak Baseball League, she already possessed what Coach called _raw talent_. She had the ability to throw hard, but her control was inconsistent. Coach had worked with her, teaching her how to develop her windup and delivery, until she had what they referred to as _finesse_.

Staying fluid was the trick. The entire delivery of the pitch had to be one smooth motion, and not a series of independent moves. The result was power and control. This was what Coach called _sound mechanics_. Sara's windup had not been mastered overnight, but as a series of small improvements that had happened over time.

Throwing baseballs was what Sara did best. She considered herself lucky to have a sister, particularly one who shared her passion for baseball. They had played catch together for years, starting not long after they were both old enough to walk.

Now, as her pitching arm came forward, the ball was released from her hand. Sara visualized its path, just as Coach had taught her. Physical mechanics were a must, but there could be no success without equally strong _mental_ mechanics.

She had to believe in her arm, and believe that the ball would go where she _wanted_ it to go. And if she did that, generally the ball _would_ go where she wanted. As Coach always said: _See it before you do it_.

Released from her hand, the ball rolled from her fingertips. It cut through the air like a laser, shooting toward the target of Maria's mitt behind home plate.

Neil watched the ball as it hurled forward. He kicked up his left foot quickly, and swung for the fences. Green Lightning came forward, but the bat met nothing but air.

There was a _thwack_ sound behind Neil, and he turned to see Maria gripping the baseball in her catcher's mitt. A cloud of dust formed, from the impact of the ball striking the well-worn glove.

She looked up at him from her crouch behind home plate and giggled. "I thought you were braced!"

"I _am_ braced!" Neil assured her. He held his green bat before his face and examined it, as if looking for holes in the aluminum. "I mean, I _was_ braced. I just got a little distracted, is all."

"Oh, is that what it was?" Maria asked. She rose from her crouch, and threw the ball back to the mound.

" _Pow!_ I got a little extra heat on that one, Neil," Sara called to him, as she caught the ball. With a touch of flair, she flicked her ponytail from one shoulder to the other.

"I'm telling you, I think there's something in the woods back there," Neil said, pointing toward the distant centerfield fence, far behind Sara.

In truth, while he had been digging into the batter's box, preparing for the forthcoming pitch, Neil _had_ seen something that he had taken a great interest in. And he _had_ found it to be most distracting.

His mind still lingering upon the strange noise he had heard earlier, and the possibility of escaped circus animals running amok, Neil had found his eyes wandering from the pitcher's mound to the woods beyond centerfield.

It was there that he had seen large trees shifting, as if they were being pushed aside by something _big_ , making passage for itself. Something _big_ , making the canopy ripple, making pinecones and acorns fall from the treetops. Again, Neil had felt the hair on his arms rising... as if something were watching him.

And was it possible, that over the sounds of cleats kicking dirt, and the banter of the infielders, and the bubbles of chewing gum bursting, that he had heard something else, faint though it might have been? Had it been? Could he have heard it, even from this distance?

_Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_. Diminished by the distance, but still as mysterious as when he had first heard it.

Sara looked over her shoulder, toward centerfield. Of course, now the trees were still.

"I'm telling you!" Neil insisted.

"You think there's something in the woods?" Sara asked. "Very interesting. But I think there's something in my glove. It's called a fastball, with Neil's name on it."

Behind home plate, Maria chortled. "Uh-oh. That doesn't sound real good, buddy."

Neil choked up on Green Lightning, and dug his cleats back into the batter's box. "Okay," he said. "Bring it on!"

"Come on, Neil," called his dad. "Focus on the ball!"

He stood in foul territory, just to the right of the first base line. From there, he coached his players on their mechanics, offering advice to the batters and the pitcher alike. His shirt was still soaked with sweat, though he seemed to have recaptured much of his lost breath. Periodically, Coach would have to readjust his glasses, as they slid down his sweaty nose.

As Neil readied himself for the next pitch, he forced himself to recall the things that his dad had taught him. _Keep your eye on the ball, all the way through the swing_. _See it before you do it_.

It was important that Neil remember these things. For though he was an outstanding defensive player, he was only an average batter. He had to work hard for every hit he got. Batting was fun (especially when he reached base), but roaming centerfield and chasing down fly balls was his true passion.

_Eye on the ball_ , he thought to himself, as Sara began her windup. But even as he thought this, his attention was once more diverted to the woods beyond, and he could not help but let his eyes wander. Once more... the treetops were swaying.

### Chapter Four

### They Call Him Nibbler

When Neil had completed his turn at batting practice, he jogged to the dugout. He discarded his bat and helmet, trading them in for his glove and ball cap, which were resting on the bench.

After he had fitted his glove back on his hand, and his hat atop his head, he looked up to see that Mr. Murray was approaching the field. At his heel was a large dog on a leash, his body swaying in time with his fiercely wagging tail.

Neil smiled when he saw them, and called, "Hey, Nibbler!"

" _Woof_ ," the dog replied in a friendly manner, thumping his tail against Mr. Murray's leg.

Nibbler was a rescue dog, who had been adopted from a shelter. Therefore, his heritage was not entirely certain, but it appeared that he was probably a Labradoodle, which meant that one of his parents was a Labrador, and the other was a Poodle. The combination made for a silly looking beast with a remarkably pleasant disposition. He weighed about 70 pounds, and he had an apricot colored, wool-like coat with curls, and strange twirls of fur.

His smile was perpetually plastered on his funny face, his tail forever wagging. They called him Nibbler, because it was discovered at an early stage of his puppyhood that... well, he liked to nibble on things. Be it shoes, or socks, or pieces of furniture, Nibbler liked to nibble upon it. Fortunately, his nibbling was gentle in nature, and the damage that resulted was generally minimal.

" _Woof_ ," Nibbler said again. He gave his biggest smile.

"What's new, Neil?" Mr. Murray asked.

Mr. Murray was Jack's dad, and also the assistant coach for the ball team. He had a big, black mustache that concealed his mouth, and as Neil and Jack had often pointed out, this made him vaguely resemble a walrus.

"Hey, Mr. Murray," Neil said, pointing to centerfield. "There's a big critter in the woods."

"Oh, yeah?" Mr. Murray asked.

He looked over at the forest beyond the fence, his eyes narrowing in concentration. Nibbler's ears went flat against his head, and he, too, seemed to be studying the woods with great interest.

Neil stroked at his chin, as he had seen his dad do on many occasions, when deep in thought. Of course, the effect was not as impressive, given that Neil (quite understandably) lacked the wizened, gray-streaked beard of his father. "Yep. Possibly an escaped circus animal, seeking refuge in the woods of Hollow Oak."

"Oh, boy." Mr. Murray's brow furrowed. "That doesn't sound particularly promising."

"Well, I gotta get back to center," Neil said, as he began running onto the field. "If I find out anything else, I'll report my findings, posthaste!"

"Right on," Mr. Murray said. "Stay on top of that, Neil."

" _Woof_ ," Nibbler added, his tail thumping.

Batting practice continued for some time. Each of the players had a turn at the plate, and they took enough whacks at the ball until Coach felt that they were _dialed in_ , as he liked to call it.

There were many players, most of whom had a special bat that they were partial to. Many of these bats had received strange names at some point in the past. Jack's bat, for instance, was called _Excalibur_. Sara and Maria preferred an aluminum beauty that went by the name of _Monkey Business_. And Neil had _Green Lightning_ , of course.

While the players received batting practice, Sara simultaneously got plenty of work on her pitching mechanics. Though it seemed only a matter of time before her arm fell off, such was not the case. Her energy was unending, and her enthusiasm was similarly unending. Like Neil and Jack and Maria, she had a true passion for the game, as well as what Coach called a _rubber arm_.

When it was time for Sara and Maria to practice batting, Coach stood atop the pitcher's mound, and Mr. Murray crouched behind the plate to catch. Before throwing on a catcher's mask and mitt, he tied Nibbler's leash to the fence in the dugout, and the dog calmly lay underneath the bench. Although prone to ample nibbling, he was a well-behaved Labradoodle.

Nibbler's tail swept rhythmically from side to side as he watched the children play. As his eyes tracked the baseball and the players, he nibbled upon a batting helmet. With his ears filled with the laughter of children, and his teeth occupied with something to nibble upon, he was happy with his place in life.

### Chapter Five

### We Are the Green Beans

When Sara and Maria were done batting, Coach called practice to a close. He stepped off of the pitcher's mound, and walked a distance halfway to first base.

"Okay, Beans, bring it in!" he called.

Sprinting from their positions all over the field, the players converged on Coach. They encircled him in a tight huddle, jostling, and bumping, and giggling. They were breathing hard, and although they were tired from a long day of school, followed by baseball practice, they were full of smiles and laughter.

There was something indefinable and magical about the experience of playing baseball at their age. Though the Beans could not quite pinpoint what it was, they knew that this feeling of unity and joy was something special... something that they would not forever have, but that they would always look back upon fondly: To be here, under the sun, with their friends. And to play a game, for nothing more than the sheer fun of it.

"Great practice today, Beans," Coach told them. He swayed on his feet, as he was jostled by the tightly crowding players. "You're all doing great. Tomorrow's game is going to be a lot of fun."

"Hey, Coach!" Jack shouted. "Is _this_ normal?"

Balancing on his left foot, he held his right shoe before himself, and wiggled his toes. They burst through a hole that had been torn in the upper part of his well-worn cleat.

" _Gears and sprockets!_ " Coach exclaimed. He mopped at his sweaty brow with a handkerchief that he had produced from his back pocket. "Boy, you guys are hard on shoes."

The huddle broke, and the players began examining their cleats. They murmured in agreement, and each of them began pointing out the various deficiencies in their footwear. Some of them could even see daylight through the cleats, once they removed them from their feet and held them up to the sky.

"Yeah, this doesn't look right," Sara said, as she pulled at the sole of one cleat, and it came partially free from the upper.

"Nope, that's not right at all," Maria said, as she examined her sister's shoe. "You're going to need to put some more superglue on that one, when we get home."

"Don't worry, kids," Coach said, holding up one hand in an effort to appease them. "The new cleats are on the way. I promise you this much: The cleats... _are on_... _the way!_ "

This proclamation was met with much hooting and hollering, and general revelry from the ball players. Though they were a bunch of ten and eleven-year-olds, and therefore relatively indestructible in the eyes of Coach, their feet were taking a horrible beating over the course of the season.

"Oh, yes," Coach said. "I'm cooking up something _real_ special for you guys at the sneaker factory. You'll see. Now bring it in tight!"

Quickly returning the cleats to their feet, the players crammed around Coach, huddling close for their customary finale to an after-school practice.

"What color are we?" Coach asked.

" _Green!_ " the players shouted back, in unison.

"What do we run like?"

" _A machine!_ "

"And who are we?"

" _The Beans!_ "

Amid the excitement that encased him from all sides, Coach shouted, "That's right! We're the _Green Bean Baseball Machine!_ " Pumping his fist in the air, he added, "Don't forget it!"

Together, the team chanted, " _Green Beans, Green Beans, Green Beans!_ "

It was a strange mascot, to be sure. But it was theirs to embrace, and embrace it they did.

### Chapter Six

### A Real Gut Buster

No sooner had Coach finished his rally cry than the air was forced from his lungs in a great _whoosh_ of breath. Jack planted his shoulder into Coach's belly and wrapped his arms around his midsection, trying to tackle him. Roaring like a lion, Jack was nonetheless unsuccessful in his effort to topple Coach, for he was simply too powerful for the boy.

Coach laughed at the futile effort (as best he could, with his shortness of breath), and wrestled Jack away from his body. "Not this time!" he declared.

But as Coach deflected Jack's attack, Neil pounced, wrapping his dad up from the other side.

" _Hullabaloo!_ " Coach cried in alarm. "What manner of skullduggery is this?"

Screaming like a troop of crazed spider-monkeys, the entire team joined the fray, bringing Coach to his knees. He mumbled something about _respect for one's elders_ , but he was soon laid out, flat on the grass.

For though he had a tremendous advantage in size over the children, he was quickly overwhelmed by their superior numbers. A great pig-pile ensued, with Coach intermittently letting out an _oof!_ or _gah!_ as another player would dive atop the mountain. It was a real gut buster, to be sure.

Though it was awfully hard on his back and his joints, Coach theorized that these frequent pig-piles were probably good for team morale. Therefore, he accepted this post-practice ritual with good nature.

Once, when they were at home, Coach had confided to Neil that he considered it to be a _team-building exercise_ , which was a valuable tool that the greatest managers in the big leagues used. Of course, the team-building exercises in the big leagues usually didn't involve all the players trying to rupture the spleen of their coach...but that was a minor point, he insisted.

"Mr. Murray," he gasped from the bottom of the pig-pile, as the players squirmed above him, hooting, and hollering, and demanding that he surrender. "A little help here, eh?"

Watching from a safe distance, Mr. Murray slowly shook his head. It was all he could do to restrain Nibbler, who was quite excited, on his leash. "Uh... sorry, Coach. I know when I'm outmatched."

" _Gobstoppers_ ," Coach muttered from the bottom of the pile, as he futilely clawed at the grass, pulling for freedom.

There was a flurry of fur and claws, and Mr. Murray called out, "Nibbler, no!"

Alas, it was too late. Excited beyond measure by all the chaos, Nibbler had overpowered Mr. Murray, and torn free from his grip. The Labradoodle charged, full tilt, at the pig-pile, his tail wagging fiercely, his tongue lolling madly. The leash came with him, trailing uselessly behind.

And as Coach lay at the bottom of the pig-pile, pinned flat and unable to defend himself, that is exactly what he saw coming at him. An energized and animated Labradoodle, barreling forward, drool dangling from his mouth.

Nibbler bounded into the pig-pile, barking wildly, and immediately bounced off of the mass of bodies. With his tail thrashing from side to side, he once more approached the pile, but with a bit more caution. Investigating Coach, Nibbler thrust about with his snout, and began sniffing with great aplomb.

"Get back... foul beast!" Coach gasped.

He twisted his head away from the dog, but Nibbler's persistent snout followed him, sniffing away. With an enthusiasm that was impossible to mistake, Nibbler began licking Coach's face, with his dangling, drooling tongue.

"Oh, come on!" Coach moaned. "This is just ridiculous."

With great happiness, Nibbler continued licking Coach's beard and sweaty brow... and then he proceeded to wash the lenses of his spectacles.

"Not the glasses!" Coach begged.

But it was no use, for Nibbler seemed quite taken with the practice. The glasses must have been particularly tasty, for Nibbler was not content to lick them. Gently wrapping his teeth around the frames, Nibbler pulled the glasses away from Coach's face. Pleased with his prize, the dog wandered a few feet away, and plopped down on the ground with a sigh.

" _Gah!_ " Coach cried. "And now, blinded by the four-legged beast. The darkest of fates!"

Only feet away, Nibbler lay on the grass, facing Coach, and proceeded to nibble away at the spectacles.

"So close... yet so far," Coach bemoaned.

It should be noted, however, that Nibbler was very gentle with his nibbling, and was not intent upon ruining the glasses. He wished only to nibble upon them, as per his usual pastime. As he did so, he smiled innocently at the trapped Coach.

"Yield to the Green Beans!" Jack demanded.

He bounced atop the pig-pile, sending shock waves throughout, the impact of such trickling down to Coach, who gasped and sputtered. Jack's cap had fallen from his head, exposing his unruly mop of dark hair. His dirty face, combined with the wayward tufts and spikes of hair, made him look a bit like a young barbarian.

Jack roared like a lion, and lowered his voice to what he presumed must be a very terrifying level. " _You... must... yield! Yield, good sir!_ "

"Very well," Coach gasped. He flailed his limbs uselessly. "I yield, I yield!"

### Chapter Seven

### Old Friends

Jack bellowed in triumph. With victory in hand, the Beans began rolling from the pig-pile, detangling their arms and legs from the mess. Finally, the flattened body of Coach was revealed at the bottom, and he weakly staggered to his feet.

"Lunatic children," he muttered to himself, as he placed a hand against his back and stretched.

Coach hobbled over to where Nibbler lay, chewing upon his glasses. The dog eyeballed Coach with complete innocence, and continued his nibbling.

Mr. Murray hurried over, apologizing profusely. "Sorry about that, Coach!"

He stooped down and retrieved the glasses from Nibbler, who relinquished them willingly enough. Drool dangled from the spectacles, but other than the excess saliva and some light tooth marks, they appeared to be more or less undamaged. Mr. Murray offered them forth to Coach.

"Er... sorry, Bob," he said, smiling with a bit much pleasure. "Looks like the kids got the best of you there, eh?"

Mr. Murray often called Coach by his first name, for they had known each other an awfully long time... ever since the first grade, when they had begun attending Hollow Oak Elementary together.

"No harm done, Leo," Coach said. He took the glasses, shook the spit from them, and returned them to his face. "I know that crazed beast can be a handful, even when he's on a leash!"

"You better believe it," Mr. Murray agreed.

As the Beans were scrambling about the grass, retrieving their dropped gloves and caps, another adult strolled onto the infield. He was tall and fit, and he wore a crisp, light brown uniform, with a shiny star affixed high on his shirt.

A wide-brimmed hat covered his head, and his thumbs were hitched into the large belt that he wore about his waist, weighted down with all kinds of fancy doodads. The large lenses of aviator sunglasses concealed his eyes, and he had a clean cut, square jaw. His name was Chief Fresco, and he was the father of Sara and Maria. Coach called him _the lawman_ of Hollow Oak.

"Well," Chief Fresco said, as he surveyed the chaos. He rubbed at his square jaw, and laughed. "You want to press charges, Coach? Looks like you were thoroughly whipped by an unruly gang of schoolchildren."

Coach stretched out, placing a hand at his lower back and groaning. "What? Nonsense! I was clearly about to attain the upper hand, you see."

"Oh, is that what it was?" Chief Fresco asked, grinning widely.

"Maybe you should press charges," Mr. Murray suggested. "I can see the headline in the newspaper now... _Coach Bob Bandernath fails to maintain order. Mutiny ensues_."

As Chief Fresco and Mr. Murray chuckled, Coach shook his head in disbelief. "Oh, a pair of comedians, eh? How lucky I am. I have a couple of regular jesters in my court. I didn't realize just how hilarious the two of you are!"

Continuing to chuckle, Mr. Murray and Chief Fresco closed in on Coach, until they had him trapped in a colossal bear hug between the two of them.

"What's the meaning of this?" Coach demanded, as he struggled to escape.

"You need to work out the kinks in your spine!" Mr. Murray explained, as he lifted Coach upon his own back, stretching him out.

Chief Fresco helped to balance this operation, and nodded his head in agreement. "Yep. It's science. _Medical_ science. It's for your own good, Coach," he said, as he began to apply a noogie.

Nibbler circled the three of them, woofing in approval, while the Green Beans hollered with glee.

Like Mr. Murray, Chief Fresco had known Coach since they were children. They had all attended school together in the town of Hollow Oak. Afterward, they had gone to college, and started families in the town, maintaining their strong bonds of friendship the entire time.

But though they had _aged_ , a large part of them had never truly _grown up_. They were certainly adults, and had assumed all the responsibilities that went with the world of grownups, but there remained within them a strong presence of the children they had once been, filled with wonder for the world around them. At times like this, when they reverted to the playfulness of their youth, it was as if the three of them were children again.

"Okay, Beans, good practice today. See you tomorrow for the game!" Coach called, as he was jostled upon the back of Mr. Murray, and Chief Fresco continued to administer the noogie, with what was surely an expert (and well-practiced) hand.

### Chapter Eight

### The Neighborhood

As Neil walked home with his dad, he lugged a large duffle bag over one shoulder. The bag was nearly as big as Neil, and it seemed to weigh just about as much as him, too.

It was loaded with all sorts of gear that belonged to the Green Beans... balls, and bats, and helmets. Neil had to lean forward as he carried it, and it bumped against the backs of his knees as he walked. But he didn't mind the hard work. His dad called this _cross-training_. It took a lot of effort, and it worked the arms, the legs, and the ever-important _core_... all at once!

Neil's dad walked beside him, carrying his own duffle bag full of gear. Though it was just as large and heavy as the one that Neil carried, his dad had far less trouble hauling it (though he did continue to sweat quite profusely).

Coach whistled while he walked, carrying the tune of "Centerfield" by John Fogerty. Neil walked much faster than his dad, in order to compensate for the difference in their strides. He took two steps for every one that his dad took, leaning forward to support the weight of the duffle bag, breathing hard with the exertion of it.

"Whew!" he exclaimed. "I'm gonna have one heck of a strong core by the end of the season, Dad."

Coach chuckled. "Yep. I reckon that's probably true. You have a great work ethic, Neil."

As father and son left the baseball field behind them, they soon came upon the school that the Beans attended. Built from brick, it was a one-story building shaped like an "L", and it was called Hollow Oak Elementary.

Class had been dismissed two hours previous, so the school was now quiet. Empty, yellow buses were lined up in the paved area beside the school, and the playground was silent.

Just as Neil now attended school there with Jack, Sara, Maria, and the rest of the Green Beans, his dad had once done the same with Mr. Murray and Chief Fresco. For both Neil and his dad, the school was a place that triggered feelings of happiness and humor, for the times they had enjoyed there.

Following the end of school, Neil and his fellow Green Beans would run the short distance to the adjacent ball field, where Coach would be waiting for them. They would practice for two hours nearly every day, unless if they had a game to play against another team.

Some of the players would need to get picked up by their parents at the end of practice and driven home, but Neil and his dad were lucky. They could simply walk home. Their house was only a half of a mile from the school.

Soon, they turned from Pinewood Way (the road that the school was on) onto Maple Lane, where their house was located. As Neil hiked down the road, the duffle bag bumping against the backs of his knees, heaving with exertion, he studied the woods that lay on both sides of the pavement.

True to the names that the streets had been given, there were trees aplenty. Thick with underbrush and dark green growth, there were maples, and oaks, and hemlocks. There were willows, and white birches, and great, ancient pine trees, towering over all.

The forest of his neighborhood was a place where Neil had spent countless afternoons, playing and exploring with his friends. But now, all those hours that he had spent within seemed sort of irrelevant.

After all, even though he had explored quite a bit of the forest in the neighborhood, it was really only the _tip of the iceberg_ (an expression that his dad sometimes liked to use). Neil found himself wondering exactly how far back the woods went. And what secrets (or beasts!) they might hide.

Were there curious eyes on him, even now, he wondered? _Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_ , he heard, ever so faintly, in his ears. Or was it simply his imagination?

" _Circus animals_ ," Neil muttered to himself, as he eyed the woods with a speculative mind.

"What's that?" his dad asked, turning his head and raising one gray-streaked, bushy eyebrow.

"Oh! Uh... what do you think the odds are of some big ol' animals running amok in these woods, Dad?" Neil asked, as he struggled to adjust the duffle bag over his shoulder.

"Hmm..." Coach pondered this question with a great deal of thought, stroking his beard in concentration. "Well... I suppose there's apt to be some big critters back there. What exactly did you have in mind?"

"I dunno, Dad. But I think something might have gotten loose back there. Gone on some kind of a rampage, perhaps. I thought I heard something today when I was out in centerfield. And later, when I was at the plate, I saw the trees swaying, like something was pushing them around. I'm telling you, I think there's something back there!"

"Interesting... very interesting," Coach said, continuing to stroke his beard with one hand, and haul the team's gear with the other. Unlike a lot of other adults, he always paid attention to what Neil had to say, no matter the subject matter. "Let me know if you find any other clues, Neil."

"Oh, yeah, will do!" Neil said, happy that his dad was taking an interest in the matter. Sara and Maria seemed to have thought he might have gone bonkers or something.

Maple Lane came to an end in a cul-de-sac. The road formed a large circle where it ended, so cars could loop around and go back toward Pinewood Way. Located in this cul-de-sac, there were several houses, one of which belonged to Neil, his dad, and his mom.

Also in the cul-de-sac were homes that belonged to Jack and his dad, and Sara and Maria's family, all of whom were already entering their houses. They were well ahead of Neil and Coach, being unhindered by the weight of the team's gear, and having received a lift home in Chief Fresco's police cruiser. Neil could hear Sara and Maria's mother calling to them for dinner... which reminded him that his own stomach was painfully empty, and growling for grub.

"All seems to be well with Fort Balderdash," Coach commented.

Neil looked to the treehouse that was lodged in the fork of a great maple, between his own house and Jack's. It was known as Fort Balderdash, a refuge and command center for young adventurers. "Yep," he agreed.

As they approached the stone walkway that crossed the front lawn and led to their house, Neil sighed with a weary contentment. Though tired from a long day of school, baseball practice, and hauling outrageous amounts of gear, he was happy.

Before opening the door to their house, he looked back over his shoulder, taking it all in: The cul-de-sac, where he was lucky enough to have his best friends live beside him. The robust forest that surrounded them from all sides, ripe for adventuring. The quiet road, a short distance from the school and the ball field that he loved.

He felt safe here. He felt happy here. And he felt at home here. For Neil, and his family, and his friends, this was home. This was their neighborhood.

### Chapter Nine

### A Meal Fit for Kings

"Boys! _Please_ , slow down," Neil's mom begged of her son, and of Jack.

With what appeared to be a speed that was nearly superhuman, Neil and Jack were shoveling steaming, hot macaroni and cheese into their mouths. Possessed by a ravenous hunger, they barely paused to chew, gulping the sustenance down with fantastic enthusiasm.

"But, Mom!" Neil mumbled, his mouth filled with cheese-laden macaroni. "It's just so darned _good_!"

" _Mmm_ ," Jack murmured in agreement, his head lowered to just above his plate, so as to minimize the distance that his fork had to travel.

"Well, thank you," she said. "But I wish you would take the time to chew it a little more thoroughly. We can't have you boys choking, don'tcha know?"

"Ah, they'll be fine. These boys need to fuel their growth, you see? They're working extra hard on the field," Coach said from his place at the table. He mumbled something about _the speedy metabolism of youth_ , while grabbing his own forkful of macaroni and cheese.

It was true that Neil and Jack used up tremendous amounts of energy over the course of a day. It seemed that whenever they were not behind their desks in class, they were constantly on the move. So long as there was daylight to be found, it was almost certain that they would be getting dirt on their faces somehow. Whether running about and crashing through the woods, or playing baseball, or engaging in any one of a great number of other games, they were sparkplugs of energy.

It was good to be ten years old... with dirty elbows, scraped knees, and high energy. Due to their constant activity, they were lean and wiry, despite their terrific appetites. Neil and Jack burned up so much energy, they could eat macaroni and cheese until they felt fit to burst!

Neil's mom, Loretta, sighed in resignation, knowing that she was outnumbered. "Well, just try to enjoy it a little, boys. You're not really chewing your food, so much as you're _inhaling_ it!"

Not long after Neil and Coach had returned home, Loretta had served dinner, which consisted of the aforementioned delicious macaroni and cheese, as well as a garden salad with a selection of tasty dressings. It was, as Neil had previously declared upon witnessing the spread, a meal _fit for kings_.

Joining Neil and his parents for dinner were Jack and his own dad, Mr. Murray. They often came from next door at suppertime. This was because, as Neil's mom had explained it, Mr. Murray was but a misguided single dad, and hardly capable of cooking an edible meal.

Mr. Murray had once contested this theory, referencing some vague "special" that he occasionally prepared. But Jack had been quick to debunk the testimony of his dad, by wrapping his hands around his own throat and mimicking a gagging noise. It was a rather telling sign, to say the least.

As far as Neil and Jack were concerned, Mr. Murray's inability to cook was a good thing. For it often resulted in the two friends being able to spend more time together. What was better than having your best buddy come over nearly every night for dinner, followed by a joint effort of conquering your homework and (last, but not least) video games? The answer, in the opinion of the boys, was pretty simple: _nothing_!

Nibbler also came along, where he lay beneath the table, ever hopeful of a scrap falling to the floor. It had long ago become clear that Labradoodles enjoyed macaroni and cheese as much as people did. Neil and Jack could feel the dog's tail under the table, thumping in rhythm against their feet.

Other than enjoying dinner together, there was another reason for Jack and his dad to come over in the evenings. The friendship of Neil's dad and Jack's dad was one that was long and unwavering. Not only had they known each other since the first grade, but they had remained close ever since, for thirty-five years.

Nowadays, they also worked together, at the sneaker factory that Coach owned and operated in Hollow Oak. Mr. Murray was his most trusted employee and advisor, and he served as vice president. In the evenings, they often tried to catch up on the seemingly unending piles of paperwork that the managing of the company produced.

Even now, there were stacks of paper and envelopes all over the dinner table, weighted down with bowls of food and glasses of cold milk. Coach and Mr. Murray ate their meals in a distracted manner, with much of their attention diverted from the food to a collection of papers that were inked with figures, charts, and plenty of text.

From the frequent discussions he had heard between his dad, his mom, and Mr. Murray, Neil had long ago gathered that it was a constant struggle to _balance the books_. Apparently, that meant managing all the financial obligations that running a sneaker factory entailed. There were a lot of expenses, from what Neil had been able to gather, though his parents never discussed such things with him directly.

"Hmm..." Coach said thoughtfully, as he tapped a pen against a graph before him. A leaf of lettuce and a large slice of tomato had become ensnared in his beard, although he took no notice of such minor matters. "Looks like the new cleats project is really eating up a lot of our cash reserves, eh, Leo?"

"Agreed," Mr. Murray said, nodding his head. "It's going to be real tight... but we can make it work, if we juggle some things around."

"We're going to have to do everything we can to make it through these next few months. Once the new cleats venture starts bringing in revenue, we should be in good shape..." Coach said, as he stroked his chin in thought, inadvertently smearing the lettuce and tomato through his beard.

Neil and Jack wolfed down the last of what was on their plates, and washed it down with milk.

"Can we be excused, Mom?" Neil asked. He was already halfway out of his seat, his muscles tensed, braced for release.

"But there's still dessert," Loretta protested. "Don't you boys want _dessert?_ "

"We'll eat it later," Neil promised. "We have to get online and get ready to play baseball."

"Sure, boys," Loretta said. "But you make sure that you do your homework before you start playing your video games, okay? You need to do well in school, don'tcha know?"

"Okay, Mom," Neil said. "Thanks for the mac and cheese!"

"Yeah, thanks, Mrs. Bandernath," Jack said. "Dinner was superb, as always."

The boys pounced from their chairs, hurriedly clearing their dirty dishes. They rinsed them in the sink, threw them inside the dishwasher, and were off for the den of the house at a full sprint, sliding over the hardwood floors in their socks.

Nibbler followed behind, woofing happily, wagging his tail both for joy and as a means of balancing his body on the slippery floor. Nonetheless, he soon fell to his belly, where he slid into the den, barking his assurance to the boys that he was right behind them.

### Chapter Ten

### Gluttons for Punishment

" _Gears and sprockets!_ " Neil bellowed into the microphone that was attached to the headset that he wore. In his earpiece, he could hear the sisters laughing wildly, merrily chortling at his plight. "Do you have some kind of a cheat enabled?"

"Hey, Neil, this is just like real life!" Sara told him through the headset. Her voice had a slightly tinny quality through the transmission, but there was no lag in the banter.

Neil had a game controller gripped within his hands. Jack was beside him, holding an identical controller. They were sitting on the floor of the den, playing Virtual Baseball on the large T.V. before them. Their schoolbooks, notebooks, and pencils were resting beside the game console, where they had been left when their homework was done.

There were two empty bowls, which had once contained blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream on top. Now, they were as clean as could be, because once the boys had finished their dessert, Nibbler had proceeded to lick the bowls until there was nary a crumb left behind.

The Labradoodle lay beside them, his eyes tracking the activity on the screen with great interest. His tail swept slowly from side to side, and he gently nibbled upon a discarded shoe that he had found nearby.

"Dude, you got smoked! I mean, you got _smoked!_ " Jack exclaimed. He repeated this last, as if Neil had somehow missed it the first two times. " _Smoked_ , I tell you!"

Nibbler chuffed softly, in apparent agreement.

"I blew that fastball by you like you weren't even there," Sara said. "You just can't catch up to my heat!"

"I'm telling you, I think there's a hole in my bat!" Neil insisted. "It must be some kind of glitch in the game's programming."

This triggered a new bout of giggles from Sara and Maria, who the boys could hear over their headsets. Neil and Jack were playing a game of baseball against the girls online, two on two. The headsets enabled them to communicate with each other while they played, even though Sara and Maria were in their own house, up the street. It was the wonder of the Internet.

Sara had just struck out Neil's character in the final inning of the video game. The girls had won, and they were quick to point this out to the boys. Though eager for a chance to redeem themselves, Jack could hear his dad calling to him from the dining room, telling him that they had to get home. And Neil's mom was calling to him that he needed to take a shower before bed (as well as brush his teeth, she reminded him).

"I know, Mom, I know," Neil said. "Always with the teeth... I can remember, I'm telling you!"

"Yeah, Neil, make sure you brush your teeth!" Maria teased him over the headset. "You've got to take care of your chompers."

"Your chompers are _mighty_ important," Sara chimed in.

"Aw, come on!" Neil protested. "We almost _had_ you that time. I hereby issue a challenge for a rematch, tomorrow night."

"Right on!" Jack said, immediately voting in favor of the notion. "A rematch is certainly in order."

"Ah, gluttons for punishment, are you?" Sara asked. "We'll be happy to accommodate."

Maria chuckled. "How many times do we need to beat you guys, before you give up?"

"We will _never_ give up!" Jack declared, just before removing his headset. "Hey, where's my other shoe?... _Gah!_ Nibbler's gotten hold of it."

Nibbler relinquished his prize, gently pushing it toward Jack with his snout. It was slick with saliva, and soaked with doggy drool, but otherwise undamaged.

"Gadzooks!" Jack cried, grimacing as he slipped his foot into the wet shoe, creating a noticeable _squelching_ sound.

Footwear in place, he hobbled for the front door, favoring one leg, because the soaked and spongy shoe was a bit disconcerting to walk in. Nibbler walked beside him, wagging his tail and smiling, happy with his handiwork.

### Chapter Eleven

### What If?

Having already taken his shower, Neil felt a deep weariness settle over him as he stood before the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth. It had been a typical day for him: long, fun, and exhausting. School, baseball practice, macaroni and cheese, homework, video games... it had been a good day, to be sure.

As he moved the bristles of the brush over his teeth and gums, he studied his reflection in the mirror. His eyelids were drooping with fatigue, and it was all he could do to keep them from falling completely closed. He was so tired, it felt like he held a great weight in his hand, rather than a toothbrush.

When Neil finished brushing his teeth, he sleepily walked the short distance of the second floor hallway, down to his bedroom. Once there, he pulled back the covers to his bed. But before he climbed in, he found his eyes drawn to the window of his room, and all that lay beyond.

The curtains were pulled back, revealing the backyard, which was now draped in the dark of fallen night. However, the moon above was just shy of full, so there was a decent amount of illumination. A large maple tree crowded the back of the house, partially blocking his view. But looking through the branches and leaves, Neil could still see the patio, as well as the garden shed that was further back. It was an average sized yard, and where it ended, the forest began.

Neil studied the woods with his sleepy eyes, slowly blinking. It was a warm, spring night, and the window was partially open. A breeze was blowing, and he could feel it as it came through the window, pushing against his body, stirring the folds of his pajamas.

Likewise stirred by the breeze, the branches of the trees in the woods beyond were gently moved about. It created a whispering noise, as the leaves rustled, and rasped, and rattled the acorns. It almost sounded as if they were conversing in a secret, unknown language.

As he stared into the woods, Neil's mind once more wandered to the strange things he had seen and heard earlier in the day, during baseball practice. He couldn't help but think of it... and what it might mean. Sure, the other players had thought he was just messing around, but his dad had taken him seriously, hadn't he?

After all, this forest was deep and expansive, and there was no telling what secrets it might hold. And since these woods were all connected, stretching from the cul-de-sac of Neil's neighborhood, all the way to the school and the ball field... there remained the possibility that whatever had been lurking behind the outfield fence, might now be hidden in the trees and shadows beyond Neil's backyard.

Some might think that he was being silly, but Neil's parents had told him many times to never repress his imagination. He thought to himself... _What if?_

He looked into the woods, and wondered... was anything looking back? But Neil was too tired to ponder this subject for long, and he sleepily shuffled over to his bed. Exhausted, he sank into the nest of sheets and blankets on his mattress. He fell into a deep, peaceful sleep within moments.

Not long after, as the breeze continued to blow, and the moonlight danced in patterns on the lawn, there came a sound from the woods.

Neil murmured and stirred, but did not awaken. But had he been pulled from his slumber, the noise he would have heard, drifting through his window, would have been instantly familiar to him. For he had heard it before.

And it would have been instantly familiar to _you_ as well, my astute reader, for surely you remember it.

The noise that Neil would have heard, had he wakened, would have been this: _Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_.

### Chapter Twelve

### Here Come the Hayseeds

" _What the...?_ " Jack gasped.

Choking down the food that was in his mouth with a grimace, he threw down his fork in disgust, where it bounced off of the table. He eyeballed the strange stuff that was in the container before him. It was greenish in color, inconsistent in texture, and questionable in identity.

" _Oh, no_ ," Neil said, as he leaned over toward Jack, peering into the container. "I think your dad might have been experimenting with his 'special' again."

"Yep," Jack agreed. His face seemed to have turned a shade of green that was remarkably close in color to that of his lunch. "That seems to be a very real possibility here."

From across the table, Sara and Maria chortled at the transformation in their friend's complexion. The four of them were sitting in the cafeteria of Hollow Oak Elementary. It was lunchtime, and the huge, rectangular room was filled with the hustle and bustle of hungry schoolchildren.

It was a noisy, busy place. Laughter, and hooting, and hollering filled the air, as well as the sporadic cackling of the lunch lady, as she dispensed ladles of corn chowder from a gargantuan vat.

"Here you go," Neil said, handing Jack half of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "You've got to keep your strength up for today's game, you know."

"Yeah, Jack, eat up," Sara said.

She passed some of her carrot sticks and tortilla chips across the table to Jack. Maria contributed a chocolate pudding cup, for added stores of energy.

"Thanks," Jack said, digging into the food. "You guys are life savers."

As he sank his teeth into the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Jack's complexion almost instantly transformed from the green tint it had acquired, back to its normal color. It was the miracle of peanut butter, a phenomenon the Beans had witnessed many times in the past.

"Uh-oh," Maria said quietly, as she nibbled at her own peanut butter sandwich. "Here comes trouble."

Neil followed her eyes, and saw who she was looking at. "Oh, no. Here come the hayseeds!"

_Hayseeds_ was a term he had heard his father use in regard to the approaching duo, and Neil had taken an instant liking to it.

Striding over to the table, their hands casually hitched into the sides of their denim overalls, were two tall and bulky boys. Beneath their greasy overalls, they wore dirty T-shirts with tattered holes around the neck, and old, tanned work boots, with the laces undone. They were each chewing on a straw, sneering as their jaws worked.

"Afternoon, Jebediah!" Neil said, tipping his head politely. "Afternoon, Cletus!"

Ignoring the greeting, the tall boys slowed their stroll, and came to a standstill. They towered over the table, looking down at the four Beans who sat at it. They were the Cragglemeister Brothers. Already big for their ages, the fact that they had each stayed back in school for a year had only served to further enhance the difference in size they enjoyed over their classmates.

Interested more in hillbilly pursuits than in schoolwork, they were what Coach liked to call _hayseeds_. They also happened to be pretty darned good at baseball... and they played on a team that the Green Beans considered to be their rival: the Summer Squashes.

Removing his hands from his dirty overalls, Jebediah leaned forward, planting his palms on the table. The backs of his knuckles were scraped and scabbed, and his fingernails were caked with black crud. He lowered his face until his nose was just above the container with the lunch that Jack's dad had packed for him.

"And what in tarnation is _this_ supposed to be?" Jebediah asked, his nostrils flaring.

With no thought given to the fact that the food did not belong to him, Jebediah poked his filthy index finger into the green slop, swirling it about. This didn't bother Jack too much, however, since he had no intention of eating Mr. Murray's "special".

"It's extra," Jack said. He smiled broadly, showing his every tooth. "Would you like to have it? I'll share with you, buddy."

Jebediah snickered. He withdrew his finger and examined the long nail, as green goo dripped from it. "Not on your life, runt. I'm guessing this is some kind of sorry excuse your pa packed you for lunch."

Cletus stood behind his brother, hiccupping with slow laughter. The straw he was chewing on bounced around between his teeth. One could not deny his resemblance to a dimwitted ogre.

Further emboldened by his brother's laughter, Jebediah removed a dirty handkerchief from the back pocket of his overalls. He blew his nose into it, causing a tremendous discord of noise and spectacle.

Though he may have been a hayseed at heart, the Beans were fairly certain that Jebediah had enough sense in his head to know that it was incredibly rude to do such a thing. Particularly so, when done right over a table where a bunch of people were trying to enjoy their lunch.

As the honking from his nose finally trailed off, Jebediah wiped his hands on the raggedy handkerchief, and returned it to his pocket. Though he had not washed his hands, and had no business handling anybody else's food, he picked up the chocolate pudding cup that Maria had given to Jack.

"Hmm, this looks pretty good," Jebediah noted. "Maybe your pa's learning a thing or two about packing a decent lunch, after all."

Jack's face was once more undergoing a transformation of color. This time, however, it was not turning green. It was draining of color, and becoming white, as he trembled with barely restrained anger.

Neil quickly placed a hand on his friend's elbow, and Sara and Maria quietly shook their heads at Jack from across the table. Though Jack was relatively fearless by any standard, they realized that Jebediah was simply trying to bait him into a confrontation. Nothing good could come from such a conflict.

Though the Cragglemeister Brothers lived for trouble, Jack had to do well in school. And it was also true that Jebediah and Cletus had a secret weapon when it came to trouble. An ace in the hole, which generally allowed them to avoid any serious repercussions for their bad behavior.

Jebediah snickered at Jack's reaction. He leaned close, his eyes narrowing and glinting with malice. The straw he was chewing shifted from one side of his mouth to the other. When he spoke, his breath brought with it a foul stink. He clearly was not a big fan of dental hygiene.

"What's the matter," Jebediah asked, as he leaned into Jack's white face. His eyes glimmered with the promise of trouble coming. He was an expert in such things. "I said... what's the matter... _runt?_ "

### Chapter Thirteen

### They Call Us the Summer Squashes

In truth, Jack was average in size for his age, and was by no means a runt. It was just that Jebediah and Cletus were abnormally large for middle graders. They took great pride in pointing out their advantage in size.

"I dunno, Jeb," Cletus chimed in, edging closer to the table, beside his brother. He chuckled like an oafish fiend. "I don't think his pa packed that pudding cup for him. I think his girlfriend must have given it to him."

"That right, sweetheart?" Jebediah asked, as he guffawed with glee. "You have to split your lunch with your boyfriend, because his pa's too dumb to pack one for him?"

Maria shook her head and chuckled at Jebediah's foolish attempts to rattle her. "Say, Jeb, you ready for our game tonight?"

"Don't try to change the subject, pipsqueak," Jebediah sneered. "I mean to get to the bottom of this. I got to see that Jackie-boy here gets his rations, you understand?"

"It's okay, Maria," Sara said. "I wouldn't want to talk about the game, either, if I were the Cragglemeisters. It must be awfully hard to know that you don't stand a chance." She paused for a brief moment. "Especially to a team with a girl on the pitcher's mound."

The pudding cup dropped from Jebediah's hand, and struck the table. His brow furrowed, and his breathing accelerated. He seemed a bit discombobulated, as if he could not believe what had just happened.

His voice was lowered to a hiss. " _What did you say?_ "

"I was just pointing out that it must be awfully hard on a big, strong Cragglemeister like yourself to have to walk back to the dugout," Sara said. "After striking out." She paused, and gave him her biggest smile. "To a girl, that is."

" _Have you lost your mind?_ " Jebediah asked. His eyes looked like they just might pop right out of his skull.

"Yeah, have you lost your mind?" Cletus parroted, edging closer.

"Oh, come on, boys. It's not like I haven't already sent you back to the bench plenty of times before. Hey, Maria," Sara said. "How many K's did we rack up against these two the last time we played the Summer Squashes?"

"Four strikeouts," Maria said. "Two a piece, if my recollection is accurate."

Jebediah's face was starting to look roughly as red as a bowl of tomato soup. For a moment, he could only stammer and flounder about, and Sara had to helpfully remind him to take deep breaths.

"Breathe deep now, Jeb," she told him. "Don't get all wound up!"

Jebediah retrieved the handkerchief from his back pocket, wiping it across his forehead, where beads of sweat had suddenly appeared. Grease stains were left behind, as he dabbed at his brow. The Beans looked up from their table, grinning in amusement.

"I _told_ you!" Jebediah finally said, when he had found his voice. "I had gotten something in my eye, earlier in the day, and I couldn't _see_ straight!"

"Did you _both_ get something in your eye?" Maria asked with a smirk.

As his brother resumed stammering, Cletus piped in. "Yeah, that's right! I done got something in _my_ eye, too! We'd been working on the tractor with pa earlier in the day, you see?"

"This whole story seems kind of unlikely," Neil observed, between bites of peanut butter and jelly.

"Yeah," Jack said. "Wouldn't your vision have cleared by your second or third at-bat?"

"Seems pretty logical," Neil agreed, nodding, the peanut butter smacking between his lips.

As if he had reached a point of critical pressure, Jebediah exploded. He bellowed an inarticulate noise, and the straw flew from his mouth, skittering across the table before finally falling to the floor. He slammed both of his palms down on the table, jostling the lunch items. His sweating face was now the color of a superbly ripened strawberry.

"You seem kind of rattled, Jebediah," Maria pointed out helpfully, waving her spoon in his direction. "You've got to breathe, boy!"

Jebediah turned his eyes on Maria, staring daggers at her. Cletus hunkered behind his brother, his arms crossed, glowering like an evil ogre, the straw shifting between his teeth. Maria smiled sweetly in return.

" _Listen_ ," Jebediah hissed. "Do you know why our team is called the _Summer Squashes?_ "

The Beans exchanged glances with each other, raising their eyebrows.

"Um... isn't that your team mascot?" Neil asked. He was only pointing out the obvious, he thought.

Jebediah raised one hand from the table, forming it into a fist. "It's because," he said, "we _squash_ things!"

His abnormally large hand came down in a great rush, and pounded the table. And it was in the bag of tortilla chips that his fist landed with a fantastic _crunch_. The very bag of chips that Sara had given to Jack.

Jack scowled up at the Cragglemeisters. Sara became dangerously quiet, and her hand was slowly curling around the orange that lay beside her lunch box.

"Oh, boy," Maria said, shaking her head at Jebediah. "You didn't want to do that."

The brothers guffawed maniacally as they began sauntering away from the table. Jebediah brushed his hands together, and the crumbs of tortilla chips drifted from his knuckles.

"I got me a _premonition_ about this game," Jebediah said. "It involves you guys _losing_. Losing _bad_."

"Doom," Cletus added ominously. "Doom, I say!"

"Make sure your pa packs you a snack for after the game," Jebediah snickered. "And a box of tissues, for all the tears you'll be shedding."

"I have a 'premonition' about you getting hit in the head with an orange," Neil muttered beneath his breath.

Sara waited until the Cragglemeisters strode some distance off, taking their place in the hot lunch line (which involved pushing several smaller students out of the way). With her fingers curled tightly around the orange, she asked, "What do you guys think?"

"I say let him have it," Jack replied. There was no hesitation in his answer.

"All those in favor?" Sara asked.

The four of them said, "Aye" in unison, signifying their agreement to the plan. It may have been undesirable to risk getting in trouble, but the Cragglemeisters had simply pushed them too far. There was only so much injustice that the Beans could tolerate. It had been decided... the bullies would have to answer for what they had done.

### Chapter Fourteen

### An Untraditional Bath

Sara pushed her chair back from the table and stood up, orange in hand. She watched in disdain as Jebediah and Cletus jostled their smaller classmates, bullying their way closer to the front of the hot lunch line.

Since they were not precisely standing still, and they were surrounded by targets that she did not wish to hit, it would be a challenging throw. But Sara was undaunted. An unpeeled orange, after all, was remarkably similar to a baseball in terms of size and weight. And she had thrown an awful lot of baseballs.

Rearing back with her arm, she prepared to send her fruit projectile flying. Neil, Jack, and Maria sat on the edges of their seats, leaning forward. They held their breath in anticipation.

Her eyes narrowed in focus and determination, Sara's arm came forward. Like a baseball, the orange was released from her hand, rolling from her fingertips. Its path was as sound and efficient as one of her pitches, cutting through the air like a laser.

Though the Beans were already holding their breath, they further inhaled as they watched the orange scream across the cafeteria, finding its way between middle graders. It found its target on the side of Jebediah's noggin (which one might have argued was even softer than the orange itself).

" _Gah!_ " Jebediah cried out, as he staggered to one side, clutching at his temple.

In a stroke of strange luck, the orange immediately ricocheted from Jebediah... and struck his brother in the center of his forehead.

" _Oof!_ " sputtered Cletus, stumbling backward.

From across the cafeteria, pumping her fist in triumph, Sara shouted, " _Strike!_ "

" _Gobstoppers!_ " Jack cried. He leaped to his feet, exchanging a high-five with Neil, while Maria fell out of her chair with laughter. "That was _awesome!_ I mean, that... was... _awesome!_ "

Sara, for her part, smiled across the cafeteria at her adversaries. "You shouldn't have touched the chips, Jeb. Big mistake!"

Disoriented and woozy from the orange assault, the Cragglemeisters stumbled about, seeking balance. As they tried to regain solid footing, they clutched at each other for support. This did not help them, however, but only further undid their balance. For as they grabbed at the shoulders of each other, their masses became entwined, and they spun wildly out of control.

" _You dang boys, you watch out, now!_ " screeched the lunch lady.

The Cragglemeisters had shoved and jostled their way to the front of the hot lunch line. So when they had been struck with the orange, they were dangerously close to the vat of corn chowder where the lunch lady was scooping out ladlefuls of the stuff.

The Beans watched with a combination of wonder, amusement, and horror, as the discombobulated Cragglemeister Brothers stumbled into the enormous vat, knocking it from the table that it rested upon. The lunch lady screeched and guffawed, waving her ladle about in the air, but it was to no avail. There was no stopping the great vat from overturning, and dumping all of its contents as it went.

Jebediah and Cletus clumsily collided with the vat, and as it was knocked from the table, a wave of corn chowder came pouring out, with a great clanging of metal. Fortunately, it had been removed from the industrial-sized stove of the school cafeteria at the beginning of lunch period, so it was no longer steaming hot, but only lukewarm.

Nonetheless, it remained true that it was an extremely unpleasant sensation to take a bath in lukewarm, frothy corn chowder, as Jebediah and Cletus soon discovered. As they fell to the floor, the majority of the corn chowder showered over both of them. Drenched in the stuff, they slowly returned to their feet, wobbling from side to side.

Their overalls and shirts were soaked with corn chowder, and it dripped from their hair, as well as their fingers. Chowder covered their faces, and they blinked slowly, as if trying to make sense of what had happened, making them look like confused and pasty specters.

The entire cafeteria was focused on this spectacle, and as one, all the many schoolchildren erupted into laughter. As they hooted and hollered, the Cragglemeisters stood there, taking it all in. Their eyes transformed from confused to enraged, and their chowdery hands curled into fists at their sides. They glowered at the Beans, but this just made them laugh all the harder.

Jebediah took a step forward, but was immediately foiled. His boot slipped in the pool of corn chowder, and he fell down. As he went, he grabbed onto the arm of his brother in a useless attempt to retain his balance, but this only resulted in Cletus joining him on the cafeteria floor.

"I can't believe this!" Neil squealed with laughter. He was bent over at the waist, trying to catch his breath, he was laughing so hard. "You've really outdone yourself this time, Sara!"

Between bouts of laughter, the other Beans agreed, but they were soon forced to duck for cover. Coming at them like bullets, torpedo rolls started pelting their bodies... the Cragglemeisters were returning fire.

### Chapter Fifteen

### Trouble Coming

" _Duck and cover!_ " Jack roared.

Sara and Maria quickly upended their lunch table, so that it formed a defensive barricade. The four of them took cover behind it, and they could hear the torpedo rolls striking against their barrier, like giant pieces of hail on a rooftop. The bread was cafeteria-grade, and therefore quite stale in nature. It made for a fairly good thing to hurl at one's enemies, as the Cragglemeisters had discovered.

"We have no ammo!" Sara cried.

Jebediah and Cletus, on the other hand, had plenty of weapons. They had hunkered down behind the lunch lady's quarters, where there was a near-endless supply of torpedo rolls and other foodstuffs. Now, they were hurling the rolls with expert accuracy and velocity from their makeshift bunker.

As previously mentioned, the Cragglemeisters were excellent baseball players. Apparently, their skill at throwing baseballs translated well to throwing baked goods. Go figure.

"I'm gonna take a peek," Jack said. He poked his head over the makeshift barricade, and was immediately pelted with a flying torpedo roll.

" _Oof!_ " Jack exclaimed, as he returned to cover. Rubbing at his noggin, he turned to his teammates. " _Monkeyshines!_ I was gob-smacked right in the cranium by those louts!"

"They've got us pinned down pretty good... We need some ammo," Neil said. In desperation, he looked about, searching for suitable foodstuffs to hurl. "Toss me the pudding cup!" he shouted to Maria.

The chocolate pudding cup had fallen from the table when it had been overturned. The options available to the Beans were precious few. There were some scraps of peanut butter sandwiches and chips, but they would never reach the Cragglemeisters, when thrown. They were too light! The only viable option that remained was the pudding cup.

Risking her body to the incoming fire of torpedo rolls, Maria reached out from behind the table and scooped up the pudding cup in one hand. Returning to the safety of the table barricade, she gave it to Neil with an underhand lob. "Catch, Neil!"

He caught the pudding in one hand, glanced over the top of the barricade, and launched it with a hook-shot. By some miracle, the pudding sailed true.

It came down atop Jebediah's head. The lid popped open on contact, and the pudding exploded into his hair, running down his face and creating a fantastic swirl effect with the existing corn chowder. This, as one might expect, resulted in a renewed round of laughter from the students that crowded the cafeteria.

" _Boo-yah!_ " Sara shouted.

"Boom-shaka- _laka!_ " Maria added.

Jebediah shuddered with rage. He pointed his index finger at the Beans, and with a howl of indignation, he began stalking toward them. But before he began marching over, he snatched an extra-long loaf of French bread, seizing it like a club, shaking it like a menacing ogre. Cletus grabbed a matching loaf, and fell into step beside his brother.

" _Incoming!_ " cried Neil, from behind their table defense. "We've got trouble on the way. Prepare for combat!"

The Beans scrambled about behind their cover, desperately searching for foodstuffs with which to arm themselves. The Cragglemeisters marched closer, fuming, and steaming, and promising doom. They waved their loaves of French bread about, shouting inarticulate words like angered trolls. Their shadows were cast over the table as they came ever closer.

"This is it!" Sara shouted, rallying her troops.

Her back was to the overturned table, and she clutched some fruit she had been able to scavenge from the floor. She had an apple in her left hand, a pear in her right.

But before the conflict could further escalate, there came a sound like thunder in a valley, interrupting this epic food fight. The double doors to the cafeteria had been smashed open, and a towering, terrifying figure had stormed within.

The raucous, laughing schoolchildren were instantly brought to silence. The Beans dropped the food they were holding. And even the Cragglemeisters, enraged as they were, stopped in their tracks. The crusty loaves of French bread were released from their hands, and they fell harmlessly to the floor. In unison, they gulped.

"Afternoon, sir," Jebediah said, bowing his pudding-and-chowder-covered head.

" _Oh, no_ ," Cletus whispered. His voice held true misery. " _It's pa_."

### Chapter Sixteen

### Don't Mess With Jasper

The man who had opened the doors to the cafeteria with a crash of thunder was indeed the father of Jebediah and Cletus. He was also the school janitor, and a person who inspired awe, respect, and more than a bit of fear among all of Hollow Oak Elementary's population.

His name was Jasper Cragglemeister. Neil had heard his own father describe Jasper as "more of a bear than a man". And that description seemed to be pretty accurate, as far as the Beans could tell.

Standing at an astounding height of six and a half feet, Jasper towered over other adults. As far as children were concerned, he loomed above them like a mountain. His shoulders were broad, his silhouette menacing. With each breath he drew, his barrel chest expanded like a hot air balloon, and he radiated an undeniable power. It was easy to see from where Jebediah and Cletus had inherited their size and strength.

He had huge hands, with knuckles the size of walnuts, and long, thick fingers that were covered in scars of varying depths. They were scars that had been gathered from a lifetime of hard work. Those hands were calloused, and like iron, and looked entirely capable of crushing stone, were such a thing called for.

Jasper always wore the same thing: a set of navy blue overalls, which were made from heavy fabric. Beneath the overalls, he wore a khaki-colored, button-down shirt, the collar of which was stretched taut around his bull-like neck. His feet were housed in big, black boots, polished to an impressive shine. At his hip, there always hung a large brass ring, from which dangled dozens of keys of varying sizes and colors.

Though not required to wear a uniform for his job, this set of clothing may as well have been such a thing. For though he might have owned multiple copies of the same outfit, it was always this identical combination that he appeared in. Jasper was one for consistency and order, of that you could be sure.

In one huge, gnarled hand, there was a broom. Though it was a tool designed for cleaning, and therefore not particularly beautiful in nature, this broom was unusual in appearance. Its bristles had been trimmed to a universally equal length, and were near perfection in terms of their symmetry. And the shaft of the broomstick was one of a kind... constructed from rich mahogany, it had been polished to a high shine. The broom more resembled a piece from an art museum, than an implement of cleaning.

Jasper took his job as janitor very... _very_... seriously. Does that point need to be made any clearer, my astute reader? No, I think you will agree... it does not. This was a man, bear-like though he might have been, who took cleaning to a whole new level.

His face was perpetually covered in a stubble that remained at a consistent, short length over his face, neatly trimmed around the sideburns and the line of his square jaw. This angular and stubbly jaw now shifted, as Jasper moved the corncob pipe that he clenched between his teeth from one side of his mouth to the other.

There was nothing actually inside of the pipe... it was empty. Neil's dad had explained that Jasper liked to chew on it simply from what he called _force of habit_.

Some parents had once voiced the opinion that it was not particularly prudent for a member of the school staff to walk about the premises with a pipe in his mouth, because it might be perceived as advocating the practice of smoking. However, it was quickly pointed out by the administration of Hollow Oak Elementary that Jasper was not actually smoking, but simply chewing on an empty corncob pipe.

They also pointed out that these concerned parents could approach Jasper of their own initiative... but they had no desire to do so. It went without saying: You don't mess with Jasper.

Was it any wonder that when Jasper entered the cafeteria, bursting through the doors with a crash of thunder, that the schoolchildren fell silent? No, my astute reader, I think you will once again be inclined to agree. Jasper had that... _certain effect_ on people, and even more so on children.

Now, as he stood amidst the carnage of the chowder-laden cafeteria, surveying the damage in a calm and academic fashion, Jasper chewed thoughtfully upon his corncob pipe. The mahogany broom rotated slowly within one hand, as his huge fingers gently moved it about.

The bristles brushed against the tile surface of the floor, whispering quietly. It was a sound that could be heard throughout the cafeteria, so silent had the students become. _Whish_ , went the broom. And then the walnut-sized knuckles would ripple again. _Whish_.... _Whish_.

Jasper continued to chew upon his pipe, and his teeth clacked upon the stem of it in the pervading silence. Like the machinations of a medieval bellows, his chest expanded and contracted with his deep breaths.

And his single eye slowly... _slowly_... moved about the cafeteria, taking it all in. Slowly digesting all that he saw.

Yes, there was but a _single_ eye. Not a pair of them, as most people had. For Jasper wore a black patch over one of his eyes, which had been lost some years ago during an accident of which the details remained somewhat... _murky_. The band from his eye patch encircled his head, parting his black and silver-streaked hair. It was the final, perfect touch for a man of such intimidating character.

" _Hmmmmmm_...." He muttered around the pipe, in a noncommittal manner. The schoolchildren collectively inhaled their breath and waited. " _Hmmmmmm_..." Jasper murmured once again, as if deep in thought, considering all that lay before him.

The cafeteria was silent. The students seemed afraid to breathe, much less move. Even the lunch lady was paralyzed, her ladle held motionlessly at her side, dripping corn chowder with a slow _plip_... _plip_... _plip_. All eyes were on Jasper.

Finally, he spoke: "Oh, this just won't do, children." His voice was so deep, it sounded like it might have been channeled from the very center of the earth. He removed the corncob pipe in one huge hand, inhaled slowly, and exhaled equally slowly, as if granting the children adequate time to consider the seriousness of their transgression. "This just won't do _at all_."

### Chapter Seventeen

### A Score to Settle

"It was them kids over there, pa!" Jebediah blurted, pointing toward the Beans. "You know the ones. The troublemakers!"

"Yeah, pa," Cletus chimed in. He likewise pointed an oafish finger at the Beans. "It was them, all right."

" _What?_ You started this!" Jack protested. He stood up from behind the table. "And by the way, your grammar is downright horrible."

"Pa!" Jebediah shouted. He rubbed at the side of his noggin. "I got me a fruit-induced contusion on the side of my head, pa!"

"They attacked us, out of the blue," Cletus added. "Right, straight out of the blue, I tell ya."

Neil, Sara, and Maria stood from behind the table, joining Jack in protest.

" _Outrageous!_ " they cried.

And, " _Preposterous!_ "

And, " _Unfounded scuttlebutt!_ "

Jasper flipped his broom upside down, and pounded the end of it against the floor. It created a great noise at the impact, and in tandem, he shouted, " _Silence!_ "

The order was obeyed, and all fell quiet.

He marched to the Beans and stood before them, towering above. "You children have created quite the mess here... Quite the mess, indeed."

"You weren't even here when it happened!" Sara pointed out. She looked up at the giant. "How do you know how it went down?"

Jasper leaned in, bringing his face close to that of the Beans. The gaze from his single eye, which was the brilliant color of gray-blue quartz, pierced them like a spear. He lowered his gravelly voice, so that only they could hear him.

" _And do you suppose_ ," Jasper rasped. " _That just because I wasn't here, that should for some reason mean that I don't know punks when I see them?_ "

"We're not punks!" Neil answered defiantly. "Your son wrecked Jack's lunch, and he had a good laugh about it, too!"

"You're just covering for them because they're your kids," Jack said. "It's not fair."

"Oh, is that so?" Jasper asked. He raised an eyebrow, in feigned concern. "It's unfair, is it? Tragic. Most tragic... _Punks_. Trying to flimflam me, are you? Always making more work for ol' Jasper. As if I didn't already have my hands full around here, sweeping up after all these brats. Who do you think is going to have to clean up this mess?"

"Shucks, I figured you'd be happy," Neil said. "You _love_ mopping!"

Jasper stood back upright, and rubbed at his stubbly chin with his free hand. "Well, yes, I suppose that's true..."

And it _was_. Jasper _loved_ cleaning. His mahogany broom was constantly at his side, and he could not help but clean everything in his path. Though he might have been rather rough around the edges, nobody would argue against this point: He was the most efficient janitor one could hope for.

"But irrelevant!" Jasper added, returning to his surly self. "Just because I enjoy mopping, that doesn't mean I want to see corn chowder dumped all over my beautiful floors, you miserable, ungrateful punks. You need to show some respect for my shiny floors, you see. I'm going to have a word with the principal, and explain what you've done here."

" _What?_ " Neil asked in disbelief.

Deflated, his shoulders sagged in defeat. But there was nothing to be done for it. You did _not_ mess with Jasper. The school janitor was powerful, in more ways than one, and he held influence with the school administrators. He was the "ace in the hole" that Jebediah and Cletus had when it came to staying out of trouble at school, despite all their bullying and meddling.

This was not to say, however, that there would not be repercussions for the Cragglemeister Brothers. Jasper pointed a weathered finger at them, and said, "You two look like a couple of catawampus _fools_. Get home, and get _clean_. You know that I can't abide such filth!"

"Yes, sir," they said in unison, as they shuffled for the door, obedient to their father.

"Quit lollygagging!" Jasper barked, waving his mahogany broom at them, hastening their progress.

As the Cragglemeisters, covered in chowder, hurried past the Beans, Jebediah pointed at them. Ignoring the stares of the other students, he said in a lowered voice, "This isn't over. We'll settle this score tonight, on the diamond... On the baseball field."

### Chapter Eighteen

### Game On

Cuh-rack!

The sound of impact traveled, like a bolt of thunder, to Neil's ears. He was deep in centerfield, and at the resonance of bat striking ball, he was in motion. His head tilted back, to track the ball. His legs started pumping, to propel him over the turf. And his left hand pumped the heel and the webbing of his glove in anticipation.

The fly ball had been driven from the bat of Jebediah. Though every player in the Hollow Oak Baseball League used aluminum bats, the Cragglemeister Brothers were the exception. They chose to wield a wooden behemoth that went by the name of _Hammerhead_. It was a heavy monstrosity that only Jebediah and Cletus could handle, due to their great advantages in size and strength. Therefore, when Jebediah connected with the baseball, the sound it created was a _crack_ , as opposed to a _ting_.

As the ball departed, Jebediah paused at home plate to admire its path. Without any concern for haste, he casually let the bat drop from his hand. And with a gesture that could only be described as _despicable_ , he pointed his index finger at Sara, as if to say, " _Gotcha_."

Sara glowered in return, but quickly turned toward the outfield, to mark the path of the ball. Jebediah had smacked a heck of a whopper, but if it would just stay in the ballpark, she felt good about her odds. She knew that Neil was patrolling the outfield, and that she was therefore in good hands. It just had to stay inside the park.

Nobody in the Hollow Oak Baseball League had home run power... except for the Cragglemeisters. Unusually big and strong for their age, they alone had the ability to bash balls to distances beyond the outfield fence. Together, the fearsome Cragglemeister Brothers already had over a dozen homers on the season.

Jebediah was confident that he had just launched another one. Bitter because he had already struck out twice to Sara during this evening's game (and still enraged over his earlier humiliation in the school cafeteria), he was doing his best to rub it in. He finally left home plate, slowly sauntering his way toward first base, loping along at what Coach called a _home run gait_.

Neil was vaguely aware of all these things: of the wordless exchange between Jebediah and Sara, of his showboating at home plate, of his slow, confident home run gait. Neil was aware of all these things, even as he pursued the fly ball, as it scraped the stratosphere.

Neil lived to catch fly balls. It was his calling, his duty. He had done it hundreds, possibly even _thousands_ , of times before. He was as confident as a ten-year-old baseball player could be, when it came to patrolling centerfield.

And yet, this time, when he pivoted his hips, and began running back and to the right, he felt something that was very unfamiliar to him. It was like a hiccup, caught halfway up his chest. As he was sprinting back, deeper and deeper into the outfield, he felt something stuck in his windpipe, something that felt to him like a bubble of indecision and insecurity. It was such a strange sensation, he didn't even realize what it was.

With his head tilted back, tracking the ball, Neil ran and ran. He could hear a great commotion of sound behind him. There was a collective groan from the Beans. The dugout of the Summer Squashes exploded with cheers. And there was also the sound of his own breath, heavy in his ears. It sounded, he realized with something like astonishment, rather panicked.

The ball had been crushed deep, but it was also _high_. It was _real_ high. This was beyond a whopper. This was like a UFO or something. Neil could barely see the darned thing. It was little wonder that Jebediah had instantly considered the ball to be long gone. But Neil would not give up on it. There was a chance that the ball would stay inside the park. Not a very good chance, given its current trajectory, but a chance nonetheless.

"Finally," Neil murmured. He forced himself to ignore the weird panic he felt building inside of him. "A _real_ challenge!"

The baseball had been launched so high, it seemed it might have been caught upon the currents of wind that rode far above the earth. As Neil ran back, eyeballing its passage through the air, he found that he was tracking it at an undesirable angle. Which didn't make any sense... he was sure he had put himself on the right path to pursuit when he had first run after it.

It was only then, as he was sprinting deeper and deeper into centerfield, that he realized that the ball had been hit so high, the wind currents were actually altering its trajectory, midcourse! With a gasp, he pivoted his hips and his feet, and began reversing his direction from right to left, even as he continued backward.

As Neil turned, the toe of his cleat caught in the turf, and he stumbled. His cleats were new... they had been given to him just today. The entire team had received brand new cleats, courtesy of Coach, to replace their terribly worn spikes. It was the final product of a brand new venture at the sneaker factory, and the company's first attempt at manufacturing cleats. It was the big project that Coach and Mr. Murray had been working on for quite some time.

They had given a pair to every player on the team, and told them that they were the _test pilots_ for these new products. It was a great honor, since the shoes were not even for sale yet. The only people on earth to own the cleats were the Green Beans.

Coach and Mr. Murray had clearly designed them with their team in mind, for the white and green colors complemented their uniforms perfectly. Streamlined in every way possible, Neil was already convinced that the cleats would be a huge success for the sneaker factory.

But though they were undoubtedly awesome, it was also true that they were not yet broken in, and so he was not quite used to them. They were still a little stiff on his feet, and such an unexpected and quick maneuver made him stumble, however briefly. The new shoes simply refused to give and respond, as a broken-in pair would have.

Even as he staggered in his steps, Neil continued forth, pursuing the ball. He lurched forward, and nearly wiped out, but he placed a hand on the ground to brace himself, and recovered his balance. With a quick gesture, he smacked his cap from his head, and continued running backward. He knew that he was getting close to the outfield fence... _real_ close... but he didn't care. He would not give up on this ball.

Neil thought of all his teammates. He thought of his dad, coaching from the dugout. He thought of Sara, standing on the mound, counting on him to back her up. No, he would not give up on this ball.

"This one's mine," he murmured to himself.

Neil heard Coach calling out to him in warning, from far away. " _Fence, Neil, fence!_ "

Even though he knew that it was imprudent to do so, Neil took a split-second to look away from the baseball, which was now descending, gaining velocity as it came plummeting toward the earth like a tiny meteor. There was but a single question that remained: which side of the fence would it land on?

When he turned his head at Coach's warning, Neil saw the outfield fence. It was alarmingly close. And his footsteps were bringing him ever closer.

" _Peel off!_ " he heard Coach shouting from far away. " _Let it go, Neil!_ "

"I'm sorry," Neil whispered, running hard, not giving an inch. "I just can't do that."

### Chapter Nineteen

### Not This Time

Neil thought of Jebediah's fist, planted in Jack's tortilla chips... the food that he was counting on, given to him by his friends. He thought of Sara on the mound, depending on him. He thought of his teammates in the field behind him, who wanted to beat the Summer Squashes more than anything. And he thought this: _You can count on me_.

The fence was coming, ever closer. It was chain link, built from steel, reinforced with the periodic placement of posts. It was three feet in height, and there were sheets of plywood fastened to it here and there, painted with advertisements for local businesses. The fence would not give an inch.

But neither would Neil. _You can count on me_.

Time began to slow, as if Neil were underwater. His senses seemed to acquire a heightened state. He could distantly hear the roar of the parents and the spectators who were gathered on the bleachers, as they collectively cried out in anticipation and alarm.

He could smell the fresh cut grass in his nose with striking detail, and the rich aroma of the approaching forest... twigs, and earth, and moss. The sound of his new cleats, colliding with the ground, was thunderous in his ears, along with his heavy breath and his heartbeat, which shook his ribcage.

There were two men on base, and two outs. If Jebediah was successful in his bid for a home run (as he surely thought he would be), it would give the Summer Squashes the lead in this close game. But if Neil caught the ball, it would result in the third out of the inning, preserving the slim lead that the Green Beans held.

_I catch fly balls_ , Neil told himself. _It's what I do. Like Nibbler chasing a thrown stick, there is no choice in the matter. And for my friends... you can count on me to be there for you_.

As Neil continued his chase, ever closer to the outer limits of the baseball field, he realized again that he had pursued too far in one direction. He needed to make a minor correction, and again he reversed his hips and his feet, chasing the ball. It was awfully close to the earth at this point, and he was sure that he had tracked it down.

But then, at this, the most critical moment, there came another distraction. It was a noise, my astute reader, that you have undoubtedly come to recognize for yourself at this point. It was the noise that sounded like this: _Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_.

Jarred from his concentration on the ball, Neil tore his gaze from the sky to a horizontal level, and what he saw was the outfield fence. It seemed to be but an arm's length away, and coming ever closer. Another step or two would bring him into contact with it.

And from the depths of the forest before him, he heard that strange noise belch forth, louder than he had ever before heard it. _Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_ , so it came, calling to his ears, distracting him. _RUSTLE-RUSTLE-RUSH-CRUSH_.

And in those depths, where the forest became dark and undefined, and potentially filled with things that were beyond the comprehension of grade-schoolers, there glowed a pair of slightly distorted orbs, green in color. Glowing, narrowing, and if one were to give it much thought... suspiciously similar to a pair of eyes, staring with an intent that was malicious at best. Staring, so it would seem, at Neil.

During this strange point in time, when everything seemed to slow, and his senses were heightened, Neil also smelled something odd. It seemed to come at him as if a warm breeze, but his first intuition was that it was not at all a breeze, or a gust of wind. Rather, it seemed to him that it was almost a waft of warm breath, strange and organic and earthy, expelled from the mouth of some enormous creature.

In a near panic, before the moment of impact, Neil forced himself to look away from the fence that would soon greet him, and away from the curious noise that seemed to summon him. Away from those strange, glowing orbs that _might_ have been eyes. _The ball, the ball,_ he cried to himself internally. For it was all that mattered.

It was only due to the fact that Neil was smack dab in the middle of a most nerve-wracking, rather harrowing experience, that he was able to ignore the things that he was currently seeing, and hearing, and smelling. These things, that seemed to go beyond the ordinary... and into those realms of the weird and unknown.

With only a moment remaining before the critical impact, Neil turned his head back to the sky. The ball was right there, coming down, nearly leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Neil was where he wanted to be... right below it, more or less.

But there was a problem. _The fence_ _was_ _in the way_. The baseball was going to come down on the other side of it.

_No_ , Neil thought. He thought of Jack, and of Maria, and of Sara, standing on the mound, counting on him, her fist clenched at her side, her breath caught in her chest. And of all the other Beans, counting on him in equal measure. _It will not end this way. I can't let it_.

There was a tremendous impact, and Neil felt the air rush from his lungs. It was forced from his insides, expelled from his mouth in an instant. His midsection collided with the three-foot fence, and his upper-body crumpled over a large sheet of plywood that had been fastened to the chain-link for an advertisement.

As if by miracle or magic, Neil ignored the distraction. His head remained skyward, and his eyes remained locked on the descending baseball.

And though the ball did indeed carry over the fence... it was into the webbing of his glove that it landed. As the wind was knocked from him, and he gasped, Neil felt the familiar, spherical shape of the ball colliding inside of his glove, and he somehow managed to retain his concentration. He squeezed the ball as tightly as he could, fearful of losing the prize he had worked so hard to earn.

There was a brief moment when the force of the impact made everything go blurry for Neil. He bounced off of the fence, and fell back to the turf, landing hard. He heard the crowd of spectators collectively crying out, in what sounded like alarm at the collision. But did they realize he had caught the ball, Neil wondered?

Ignoring his lack of breath, he quickly rolled to his feet, with his glove held high above his head. With his free hand, he removed the baseball, holding it high, like a champion's trophy.

The crowd's noise transformed from one of concern to that of amazement, and they burst into applause. The Green Beans howled with glee, and the joy of the Summer Squashes turned to despair and disbelief. From the dugout, Nibbler barked with unbridled enthusiasm.

The umpire at home plate appeared to be just as astonished as everyone else. He had removed his mask to watch the flight of the ball, and his eyes had become the size of saucers, as if he could not believe that Neil had plucked it from the air, robbing Jebediah of his home run. The umpire turned toward Jebediah, who was halfway between first and second base, slowly trotting in his home run gait.

He extended his index finger and pointed at Jebediah. " _Out!_ " he shouted. The umpire formed his hand into a fist and shook it once, to emphasize the fact. "You're _out!_ "

Jebediah's mouth fell open, and his eyes adopted a confounded look about them. He slowed his feet until he came to a standstill on the base path, and bit by bit, his mouth hanging ajar, he turned toward centerfield. As Jebediah looked to the outfield in disbelief, Neil held the ball before himself, for it to be admired.

And even from that distance, Neil could see, quite clearly, the blood draining from Jebediah's astonished and dismayed face.

"Not this time, Jeb," he said quietly. "Inning over."

For his part, Jebediah stared daggers.

Neil smiled in return, briefly pausing to retrieve his hat from the grass, as he jogged back toward the infield. He was happy, as he always was, when catching fly balls.

Sighing in relief, Sara pointed at Neil and pumped her fist. "Nice catch, Neil," she called. "You had my back on that one. But, hey, did you have to make it look so hard?"

Neil smiled back at her, wheezing with winded breath. He briefly tapped his fist against his chest. "You know I always got your back! And you know what... that one actually _was_ pretty hard."

As he left the outfield behind him, Neil glanced over his shoulder. There was no sign of what he had thought he had seen lurking in the woods earlier, when he had been tracking the fly ball to the outer limits of the field. But just as he was about to look away, he saw the trees quickly move and shake about.

It was as if something that was prowling in the shadows and the brush had withdrawn to the greater depths of the forest... pushing aside all obstacles as it went.

### Chapter Twenty

### No Time to Spare

It remained a close game. During the bottom of the sixth (which was the final inning), the Green Beans held the lead by a single run. The Summer Squashes had last at-bats, and they were doing their best to close the gap.

There were two outs, and two base-runners. One was at third, the other was at second. Sara was once again in a bit of a jam, but she remained confident on the mound. She believed in her arm, and she believed in her teammates, who defended the field behind her. They had her back.

At the plate was Cletus Cragglemeister. Hammerhead was clutched in his hands, slowly moving back and forth, like the head of a cobra, preparing to strike. Oafish and hulking, Cletus narrowed his eyes at Sara, glowering. She supposed that he was trying to intimidate her, which seemed kind of silly. Neither he nor his brother had enjoyed much success for the entire game.

This was quite unusual, because the Cragglemeisters were generally the most productive hitters on their team. They must have found their dismal performance today to be particularly disheartening, for after their earlier humiliation in the cafeteria, they were desperate for payback against Sara. Jebediah had almost found it, but thanks to Neil, he had been robbed of his home run.

The only time either of the Cragglemeisters had been on base was this inning, when Jebediah had singled off of a weak grounder that had slowly rolled down the third baseline. Having advanced from first to second, he now stood atop the bag, crouched in anticipation. He was eager for the chance to score the go-ahead run.

Despite the fact that Sara had enjoyed great success against the Cragglemeisters so far in the game, she did not let herself become complacent. She did not fool herself... Cletus was dangerous at the plate. Sara remained focused. If the Beans could get just one more out, victory would be theirs.

"Wait for your pitch, son!" called Jasper from the dugout of the Summer Squashes, chewing at his corncob pipe.

The school janitor served as the coach of his sons' team. He was dressed in his usual garb, with his navy blue overalls, khaki shirt, and black boots. Jasper's mahogany broom was in hand, and he used it even now, sweeping out the concrete corners of the dugout. He couldn't help but clean... even when off duty from his janitorial obligations. The Summer Squashes kept a tidy dugout, that was for sure.

Sara briefly glanced at the one-eyed behemoth, and then toward her own dugout. Coach was standing calmly, his arms crossed against his chest. He nodded slightly to Sara, expressing his faith in her.

Coach's calm and his confidence were catching, and they helped Sara to keep her cool in this high-pressure situation. At their age, the Beans played for fun, not for competition. But they sure wanted to win _this_ one. For the Summer Squashes were their rivals.

She also saw Mr. Murray in the dugout. He sat on the bench, and he was as calm as Coach was. At his side was Nibbler, who smiled at Sara, his tail wagging. Just beyond the dugout, her father, Chief Fresco, leaned against the fence, his wide-brimmed hat tilted back on his head. He had removed his sunglasses, and when Sara looked over at him, he winked.

Sara smiled at her father, then looked back toward the batter, and at her sister, crouched behind home plate. Maria held her glove squarely in the strike zone, providing a good target. As she did before every pitch she released, Sara visualized the path that the ball would take, and the sound mechanics she would employ to ensure such a thing. _See it before you do it_ , she told herself.

She eyed the hulking Cletus, who glowered in return, trying to get inside of her head and _psyche her out_ , as Coach called it. But this was a silly notion. For though Cletus was trying his best to strike fear in her heart, Sara knew that it was all just an act. The fear belonged not to her, but rather, to him. Fear of being beaten by a girl.

Sara smiled at Cletus, and she could see the uncertainty in his eyes, as the mask of strength and bravado temporarily melted from him. She wound up, squeezing the baseball with her throwing hand, inside of her glove. As she completed her delivery, the ball was released, rolling from her fingertips. It cut through the air, racing for the target of Maria's mitt, behind home plate.

Cletus swung his great, wooden bat, grunting with the exertion of it. His eyes followed the ball, and his tongue was pinched between his teeth in concentration. There was a great _crack!_ And then the ball was in play.

The ball had been struck with a great deal of force, but the bat had connected with it high. Therefore, the ball remained on the ground. It zipped along the grass of the infield, right up the middle, heading back toward the pitcher's mound.

Sara saw it coming, but she was somewhat off-balance, because she had just finished her pitching delivery. Reacting by reflex, she reached her glove behind herself in an awkward movement, stabbing for the ball. But it was traveling too fast. It glanced off of the leather of her glove, and kept going, straight up the middle of the diamond.

As the grounder shrieked toward the edge of the infield, Jack dove for it. He leaped headfirst, with no thought whatsoever given for his personal safety. His glove was extended before himself, reaching for the ball.

He landed hard, sending a great plume of dust into the air, and the breath was forced from him in an _oof!_ But the webbing of his glove remained just shy of the ball, which passed within an inch of the leather. It skipped over second base, and into the outfield, still traveling at a terrific speed.

Breathless, Jack pounded his fist on the ground in frustration, as the ball passed him by. The base-runner who had been at third came in to home plate to score. The runner who had been at second, Jebediah, was approaching third base on a rounded path, preparing to dash for the go-ahead run.

When Cletus had hit the ball, Neil had begun sprinting from his place in centerfield, where he had been fairly deep. Now, he was coming up on the infield, and the grounder continued forth like a laser, heading right for him.

Neil quickly took a knee, placing his glove on the ground, and using his body as a shield, should the ball squeak past his leather. As it was, the ball rolled into his glove, and its great velocity caused it to travel up the heel of his hand before he could squeeze it. His body blocked it, and Neil was able to grab the ball with his free hand, as it came up into the folds of his jersey.

With no time to spare, Neil sprang to his feet. He saw Jebediah rounding third base, going for home. If he scored, the game would be over, and it would end in victory for the Summer Squashes... and defeat for the Beans.

Amid the howling of the players, and the roaring of the fans, and the excited barking of Nibbler, Neil drew back his arm, and prepared to throw the ball.

### Chapter Twenty-One

### The Rivalry Lives On

There was no time to waste. Neil launched the ball forward. He didn't have the arm strength to get it to home plate in time, and he knew it. So he threw it to Sara, who stood just behind the pitcher's mound, her glove held high, signaling for the relay.

Neil threw the ball, and she caught it, turning even as it connected with her glove. She pivoted, and threw the ball home with all her strength.

Maria stood behind home plate in a half-crouch, awaiting the throw. Her catcher's mask had been tossed aside, and her eyes were bright with anticipation. Her face was scrunched in concentration, and covered with a thin layer of dirt that had accumulated during the baseball game.

A few strands of her ponytail had come loose and dangled before her eyes, but she ignored them. Maria could hear the base-runner, Jebediah, thundering closer. She braced herself for the impending collision.

The ball came in, true to the target, hitting Maria's glove squarely in the center. She dropped to one knee, bringing her catcher's mitt to the dirt directly in front of home plate, defending it from Jebediah. She placed her empty hand over the ball inside of her glove, to further protect it, and prevent it from being jarred loose.

Jebediah got there at precisely the same moment. He had known that it was going to be a close play. As he reached home plate, he launched his body into a slide, feet first. Dust plumed up from the area around home plate in an enormous cloud. The umpire hovered above, his mask removed, squinting into the carnage.

A couple of seconds passed, and then the umpire cried, " _Out!_ " Pumping his fist, he said it again. " _You're out!_ "

Jasper came running from the dugout to protest, his mahogany broom clenched tightly in one fist. But as the dust around home plate began to clear, it quickly became obvious that the umpire had made the correct call.

Jebediah's cleat remained just shy of home plate. It had been blocked by Maria's glove, which remained planted in the dirt, stalwartly defending the plate. Maria had held her ground against her much larger, stronger opponent. She was average sized for a ten-year-old girl, but she had a heart that was anything _but_ average.

Jebediah looked at this end result in a delayed horror, his eyes filled with disbelief. He was having a terrible day. With a groan, he covered his eyes with his hands, and fell back against the earth in defeat.

Jasper had come all the way from the dugout, and now stood over home plate, shaking his head in disapproval. "Sweet sassafras... What in tarnation were ya thinkin', boy?"

Jebediah reluctantly removed his hands from his eyes, and looked up at his father from his place on the ground. "I thought I had the throw beat, pa! I mean, they had to relay it and everything."

"You're darned right you should have beat the throw. Ya must have been doggin' it, to get thrown out like that!" Jasper hollered. After a moment of thought, he added, "Thrown out by a _girl!_ And then, ya got _tagged_ _out_ by _another_ girl!"

"Naw, I wasn't doggin' it, pa!" Jebediah protested, leaping to his feet.

The discussion between father and son continued, but the Beans paid it no mind. They were too busy celebrating. Maria had sprinted out to exchange high-fives with her sister. Jack, Neil, and the rest of the team quickly joined them at the center of the infield, where they whooped it up and slapped palms.

Watching their celebration, one would have thought they had won the game. But this was not the case. The game had ended in a tie. The runner had scored from third base, eliminating the one run lead that the Beans held.

But this was okay. They had been a hair's breath away from losing the game to their rivals, the Summer Squashes. The excitement of the final play had been enough to invigorate the team beyond words. Sure, the game had ended in a tie, and not a win... but it was better than a loss to the Cragglemeisters.

Coach, Mr. Murray, and Nibbler joined the ruckus, jumping up and down with the Beans in their excitement. Nibbler woofed in time with the cheering, lending a decidedly canine presence to the joy of the moment.

" _Green Beans!_ " the players chanted, as they tackled Coach to the ground, piling atop him. Coach was so invigorated by the final, thrilling play of the game, he didn't even protest the abuse upon his creaky back.

### Chapter Twenty-Two

### A Place With Character

"Listen," Neil said. His speech was somewhat impeded by the presence of pizza, which he was wolfing down with a great hunger. "I'm _telling_ you, guys. There's something in those woods. I'm _sure_ of it!"

He was talking to Sara, Maria, and Jack. The four of them had circled up during the post-game pizza ritual.

Following each game at the Hollow Oak Baseball League, a feast of pizza was presented to the participants. Win or lose, the players of both teams got to indulge in the heaping platters of pizza goodness. And consume it, they would, for these middle graders played baseball with all their hearts. And baseball, when played with one's whole heart, was both thrilling and exhausting. These players needed to refuel!

The Hollow Oak Baseball League had been founded many years previous by a man who went by the name of Farmer Meriweather. Blessed with fantastic agricultural skills (and what Coach liked to call a _green thumb_ ), he was the premier farmer of the region. People came from all the neighboring towns, simply to purchase his robust vegetables, and he enjoyed a thriving business.

But blessed as he was in the arena of farming, he had no such blessings when it came to children. He had longed for children all his life, and he wished for the sounds of their laughter to fill his rambling farmhouse. But as the years passed by, and he became first a middle-aged man, and then an old one, Farmer Meriweather came to realize that parenthood was not to be his.

Undeterred by his lack of luck concerning children, he decided that he could still bring much happiness to the young ones, even if he was never to have any of his own. Using the money he had earned in his farming ventures, he independently founded the baseball league for the town.

Due to his passion for the cultivation of vegetables, Farmer Meriweather chose to name the teams of his newly formed league after these tasty and nutritious items. Thus, the teams had names such as the Green Beans and the Summer Squashes. Other teams included the Chickpeas, the Banana Peppers, and the Celery Sticks, among others.

Times had changed since the long-ago origins of the town's baseball league. In honor of Farmer Meriweather, however, the team names had remained constant. In this day and age, most towns named their teams after the businesses that sponsored them, as a means of raising money.

Although Hollow Oak would sell advertising space on the outfield fence, the townspeople had made it clear that the names of the teams were not for sale. They retained their quirky vegetable titles, in honor of their founder.

Another tradition that had remained throughout the many years of the town's baseball league was the post-game pizza ritual. Farmer Meriweather had understood that giving the players delicious pizza after the game was a key component of the recovery process. As mentioned previously, playing baseball with one's whole heart was an exhausting endeavor, on every level – physically, mentally, and emotionally.

And what better way to restore those depleted energies than with pizza? As an advocate of good health for children, Farmer Meriweather was interested in seeing that the young baseball players developed an interest in the wonders of vegetables. So the pizzas he had prepared for the players were loaded with them. Atop the whole grain dough, tomato sauce, and cheese, there were peppers, broccoli, mushrooms, onions, and olives. These pizzas were chockfull of nutritious ingredients.

Plus, pizza was undeniably delicious. _Everybody_ liked pizza. Even Jasper, the cantankerous janitor, had a small smile on his stubbly face, as he nibbled at his pizza, murmuring to himself in satisfaction. " _Mmmm_ ," he mumbled thoughtfully. " _Mmmm_. That's darned good pizza."

Farmer Meriweather had long since disappeared, but his legacy of baseball and vegetables lived on. His property, along with the rambling farmhouse, was nowadays empty, lying at the outskirts of Hollow Oak.

Just because Farmer Meriweather was gone, however, did not necessarily mean that his farm was now void of activity. Tales of... _happenings_... at the abandoned property often circulated throughout the town.

But that, my astute reader, is a tale for another volume. For now, simply remember that Hollow Oak was a town with a history. A place... _with character_ , you might say.

### Chapter Twenty-Three

### Plotting Over Pizza

As they devoured their pizza, Neil, Jack, Sara, and Maria stood behind the _Snack Shack_. It was a concrete structure that had been built just behind the chain-link backstop of the baseball field. It featured a super-large opening that revealed an interior that was filled with all manner of snacks and drinks, as well as two large pizza ovens.

Neil's mother, Loretta, worked within the Snack Shack, dispensing hot slices of pizza and cold bottles of water to all the players. Even as busy as she was, she found time to tell Neil that some cheese and tomato sauce had found its way onto his chin.

"Neil, use your napkin!" she called.

Wiping at his chin, Neil continued to tell his friends about his observations of the thing in the woods. The four of them stood in a small circle, amidst the center of the Green Beans, who were eagerly devouring their slices of pizza. Some distance away, the Summer Squashes morosely chewed on their own pizza, with the Cragglemeisters intermittently pointing fingers at their teammates and voicing their theories on the blame of others. Nibbler roamed about all the players, searching for fallen crumbs of pizza crust.

"Time seemed to slow, you understand?" Neil asked.

His eyes had grown wide with wonder, as he reflected upon his experience, when he had tracked down Jebediah's fly ball. For his friends, he recounted all the observations he had made in that moment, including the noises, the waft of strange breath, and (perhaps most convincing of all) the glowing, green eyes.

It might seem that such a story would be greeted with skepticism and disbelief. And it might seem that his friends would think Neil was either exaggerating or playing a prank. But you must remember, these were not grownups, but middle graders. They had not yet been stripped of their imaginations by the boredoms and routines of adulthood. And so, when Neil told them of what he had seen and smelled and heard, they did not react with skepticism. They _believed_ him.

Neil's excitement over the matter was contagious, and soon spread to his friends. They were as intrigued as he was in the matter, and they were thrilled with the prospect of adventure.

"We need to find out what's back there," Neil said, gesturing toward the woods behind the outfield fence with a cheese-covered finger. "We need to launch... an _investigation_. We need to do it _tonight_ , before the beast moves on to other territories. We could launch an expedition, after our parents go to sleep."

"Uh... I'm all for adventure," Sara said. "But I don't know... we're kind of on thin ice, as it is. We got in pretty big trouble for the food fight, and dad said we should be on our best behavior until further notice."

"Oh, come on!" Jack protested. "How often does something like _this_ happen in our sleepy town? This is awesome! It could be the opportunity of a lifetime."

"I gotta agree with the boys, sis," Maria said. Her eyes were aglow with the prospect of adventure. "Think about it... this could be the most exciting thing we've ever done!"

"Well... couldn't we just wait until Saturday to do it?" Sara suggested.

"Tonight!" Neil insisted. He wiggled his fingers for emphasis, as he explained. "I'm telling you, that thing was staring me down with its _weeeeiiird_ , green eyes. I have to find out what's back there. I _need_ to find out what's back there. It _has_ to be tonight."

"You have to admit, Sara," Maria said. "It would be way cooler if it was a nighttime expedition. We could bring flashlights, and all sorts of handy supplies."

"Mmmm... yeah, that might be true," Sara said. She was on the fence, teetering at the point of indecision.

"This isn't the Sara that _I_ know," Jack said, giggling. "The Sara _I_ know is completely fearless. The Sara _I_ know is the first to jump into the deep end of the pool. The Sara _I_ know is always eager to show the boys that she can beat them at anything. Why should _beast tracking_ be any different?"

Sara narrowed her eyes at the challenge. What Jack had said was true, and he had pushed the right buttons.

"I'm in," she said. "I say we go tonight. All those in favor?"

The four of them answered in unison. " _Aye_ ," they said, as one.

"Tonight," Neil said, "we meet, at Fort Balderdash!"

Sara nodded in agreement. But even as she did so, she couldn't ignore the strange feeling in her stomach. She didn't know what to call it, but years later, when she was older, she would come to recognize that the feeling in her stomach was what you might call _intuition_. It was a way of instinctively knowing about one thing or another.

And if she had been experienced enough to understand and trust her intuition, she would have known that what it was telling her was that there was more danger in this plan than the Beans could comprehend... and that something terrible would happen as a consequence of their undertaking.

### Chapter Twenty-Four

### The Grand Adventure Begins

Dark had long since fallen upon the town of Hollow Oak. Neil was staring out his open bedroom window, with Jack at his side. Together, they studied the night beyond, feeling the cool breeze that blew against their faces.

The forest began where the yard ended, and they considered what secrets might lie within. Moonlight reflected from the leaves, as they sighed in the branches, whispering with the breeze. Occasionally, an acorn would drop from an oak tree to the ground beneath, or a rogue leaf from a maple would gently drift about, until it met the earth.

Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, Neil said, "The hour is nigh..."

"Nigh?" asked Jack, turning to Neil. "What does that mean?"

"I think it means the same thing as _near_."

"Then why didn't you just say _near?_ "

Neil considered this for a moment, scratching at his sandy hair. "I don't know... It seemed appropriate. It sounds pretty cool, doesn't it?"

"Well, yeah. It does have a nice ring to it," Jack agreed. He tried it out, sampling the word. " _Nigh_. The hour is _niiiiigh_. So are you saying that we're ready to go?"

Neil consulted his watch, and saw that it was 10:49 PM. "Yep. We can proceed with the mission. Our colleagues should be meeting us at Fort Balderdash in just a few minutes."

"Okay... let's do this!" Jack said, the hairs at the nape of his neck tingling with excitement.

He pointed at a large duffle bag at his feet, which was bulging with odds and ends. It was one of the sacks that was used for transporting the gear of the Green Beans, but the boys had emptied it of all the helmets, bats, and baseballs, and replaced them with gear that they thought might come in handy on their expedition. Most of the stuff had been borrowed from Mr. Murray's tool shed, but there were also some foodstuffs from Neil's pantry.

"I've gone through our supplies one last time, and it looks like we've got everything we could possibly need," Jack said.

The two of them were up well past their bedtime, and they should have been very sleepy, especially since they had played a hard game of baseball earlier in the evening. The boys were anything _but_ sleepy, however. Invigorated by their nighttime adventure, they felt positively _electric_ with energy.

They had to wait until late at night to begin their investigation, since Neil's parents would surely not approve of such a thing. At this point, Neil was certain that the coast was clear, for he had eased open the door to the hallway, and heard the snores that drifted from his parents' bedroom. Lighter snoring came from his mother, and much heavier stuff (sounding sort of like a chainsaw in desperate need of repairs) from his father.

As luck would have it, Jack's father, Mr. Murray, was working the nightshift at the sneaker factory. The new cleats project was requiring a lot of extra hours, and as the vice president in charge of the new venture, Mr. Murray had oftentimes been working late in recent months. Jack could not stay at home alone, so whenever his dad was working the nightshift, he would go next door to spend the night with Neil's family.

It was like a dream come true – a sleepover at his friend's house, on a school night! Since Jack was already staying at Neil's place, this made their covert mission simpler to launch. And, he had brought Nibbler along, because the dog would much rather come and play with the boys, than stay home alone. Always a faithful friend, and the owner of a most magnificent nose, the Labradoodle would be a valuable team member on their expedition.

"Okay," Neil said. He bumped fists with Jack, and patted Nibbler on the head. "Proceed with _Operation: Beast Quest_."

Swinging his leg out the window, Neil climbed into the nearby branches of the large maple tree that crowded the house. His ribs were sore from his collision with the outfield fence, but his excitement for the adventure was enough to make him ignore the discomfort that he felt, as he stretched his body out the window. Once he was safely perched within the limbs of the tree, he maneuvered a large, wooden bucket (which had been used for transporting bushels of apples long ago) back toward the window.

Jack grabbed hold of the bucket, and together, they positioned it so that it was adjacent to the house. He then helped Nibbler up onto the windowsill, and the two boys lifted the dog into the bucket. It took both of them to heft his big, furry body.

" _Ah-roo_ ," Nibbler voiced quietly, lending his thoughts on this process.

Although game for any adventure, the Labradoodle was a bit apprehensive about _this_ particular aspect of the expedition. The lift system had been built several years ago by Neil and Jack, fastened with a rope that ran over a large limb of the maple tree. They used it to raise and lower items up to Neil's bedroom window.

Of course, they had never used it to transport Nibbler, so this was a first. Neil and Jack groaned with the strain of it, but together they were able to gently lower the bucket to the ground below.

As he descended, Nibbler stared up at the boys, his ears pressed flat against his head. He periodically uttered an inarticulate, canine suggestion as to their technique. When the bucket safely touched down on the earth, Nibbler climbed out. He looked up, smiling happily, his tongue lolling to one side, and waited for the boys.

"Nibbler has landed safely," Neil reported. "Don't worry, boy, we're on our way!"

### Chapter Twenty-Five

### Rendezvous at Fort Balderdash

With the duffle bag of supplies slung over his shoulder, Jack launched himself out the window, joining Neil in the branches beyond. The two of them quickly climbed down the tree. It was an easy process, for they had done so innumerous times before, and they knew precisely where the best handholds and footholds were located, nestled in the gnarls and nooks of the great tree.

Nibbler watched their descent with barely restrained enthusiasm, his tail wagging wildly from side to side.

"Here we are, boy," Jack told the Labradoodle, as he reached the ground. He ruffled the fur behind Nibbler's ears. "That's a good boy."

After touching down, it was a quick walk to the treehouse, Fort Balderdash, which was located between Neil's house and Jack's. It was located in another large maple tree, where it had been built several years back by Coach, Mr. Murray, and Chief Fresco. The weight of the treehouse was easily supported by the great limbs of the maple, which held the structure aloft like a giant hand. The treehouse was a fantastic refuge and command center for young adventurers.

"Wait here, boy," Jack told Nibbler.

The dog obediently lay down on the ground, smiling and wagging his tail. As the boys began to ascend the ladder, a voice called from above.

" _Halt!_ "

Momentarily startled, Neil quickly realized that it was Sara who had spoken. " _Monkeyshines!_ " he exclaimed. "You beat us here!"

"You're darned skippy we beat you here," Sara answered, as she appeared in the doorway of the treehouse. "Now halt, until you utter the password!"

Neil stared up the ladder. "Uh... but you can _see_ me."

Maria peered over the shoulder of her sister. "None shall enter Fort Balderdash without uttering the password!"

"Very well." Neil cleared his throat, and with an air of formality, he spoke the password that would grant him entry. " _Snickerdoodle_."

"Correct," Sara said.

"Come aboard!" Maria added.

The sisters extended their hands, helping Neil and Jack climb within the treehouse. Once they were all inside, the four of them gathered in a circle on the floor. Several window openings had been built into the treehouse, and the moonlight illuminated the structure enough so that the many items that hung upon the walls were visible.

There were wooden swords, and pirate hats, and bandit masks, and squirt-guns, and dormant lanterns, among many other objects. Several pieces of art that had been constructed by the four of them, with colored pencils and watercolors, further decorated the interior walls of Fort Balderdash.

Jack set the duffle bag down in the center of them. He opened it, withdrew four flashlights, and passed them around to his friends.

"Darkness, be gone!" Sara proclaimed, as she and the others tested out their flashlights.

"What else do you have in there?" Maria asked, as she shined her light inside the bag.

"All kinds of stuff!" Jack said, his face splitting into a huge grin. "I borrowed some things from my dad's tool shed."

He reached a hand into the bag and pulled out a fistful of random supplies. "Check this out. We've got a saw, and a tape measure, and a bunch of random doodads. Um, some spare batteries... a compass... Some more tools..." Jack rummaged about, pulling out screwdrivers, duct tape, various pliers, and a coiled rope. "Oh, and we've got some granola bars and chocolate milk for sustenance... also, I grabbed this pay-as-you-go cell phone that my dad keeps around for emergencies. And check this out! I found this big ol' net in the shed!"

" _Gears and sprockets!_ What are we going to do with that?" Sara asked.

"We can use it to ensnare the beast!" Neil said. "Could be an escaped circus animal, you know."

" _Cool_ ," Maria said, in awe.

She grabbed one end of the net, while Jack held the other, and together they stretched it out to its full size. The net was quite large, reaching across the entire confines of Fort Balderdash. Fishermen must have used it long ago, for it reeked of seaweed and barnacles.

"Oh, yeah," she confirmed. "We can catch a _big_ one with this net."

"And we've got our _nose_ ," Jack said, hitching his thumb out the door, pointing down toward Nibbler.

"Perfect for tracking," Neil said, rubbing his hands together. "Okay, Beans. All the preparations are complete. Commence _Operation: Beast Quest_."

### Chapter Twenty-Six

### On the Trail of the Beast

These four children, these brave and adventurous Green Beans, set forth into the forest. Behind Fort Balderdash, there was a path cut through the trees and the brush, which soon led to a network of trails beyond. This complex system winded its way throughout much of the town of Hollow Oak.

Though they had often walked these paths, the network of intersecting and winding trails was so extensive, the Beans had not yet explored them all at this point in their lives. Furthermore, they suspected that their pursuit of the unknown beast might lead them into even less easily defined territories of the forest, off of the paths entirely.

Since this was the case... and since it was further possible that they might get a bit lost in the woods during this nighttime adventure, they were very happy for the company of Nibbler. The Labradoodle was blessed with a wonderfully sensitive nose, and the Beans were confident in his ability to lead them home, no matter what befell them. Were it not for his presence, they would have been much less confident about plunging into the darkened forest, in pursuit of futures unknown.

Though their plan was far from precise, Neil had a general notion that they should be making their way roughly toward the baseball field, since that was where the beast was last spotted. Therefore, it was in this direction that they began their quest.

As they walked further into the woods, the beams from their four flashlights cut swaths through the darkness, illuminating the ground before them. Though they were on a trail, they had to watch where they stepped, for the terrain was certainly uneven at times. It rose and fell in places, and it was littered with fallen branches, rocks, stumps, and the roots of the surrounding trees.

The spring evening was cool, and the Beans were glad that they had worn jackets. Walking at their brisk pace helped to keep them warm, but there still pressed a wavering wind against their bodies. The persistent breeze moved with varying intensities, but would not relent. It whispered through the weeds, stirring the brush, rustling the leaves, lending an eeriness to the moonlit night.

It did not take long for some action to happen. Soon, Nibbler caught the scent of... well, it was the scent of _something_. Something that got him plenty excited, and he quickly took off, in hot pursuit of whatever it was that his nose had detected. The Beans fell in behind the Labradoodle, accelerating their pace to keep up.

Nibbler's tail swept from side to side with rapid movement, his snout pressed close to the earth. He sniffed like a machine, rapidly inhaling and exhaling with a purposeful rhythm. His interest had been captured in its entirety by this wonderful, mysterious scent.

"Oh, yeah!" Neil said, as he followed close behind. "We must be hot on the trail of the beast, now. Look at him go!"

" _Ah-roo_ ," Nibbler said happily, sniffing away, his rump shaking from side to side with the movement of his tail, as he plunged further into the forest.

After following Nibbler for some time, it became clear to the Beans that they had wandered from the network of trails that littered the forest. Now they were in the _real_ woods, evidenced by the increasingly thick brush, which pressed against them.

Low to the ground, Nibbler had no problem weaseling his way through the growths of briars and fallen trees. It was harder going for the Beans, however.

"Uh..." Sara said, as she plowed through the brush. "We seem to have, uh... gone off of the trail a bit, here."

"It's okay!" Jack reassured her. "Nibbler knows what he's doing."

Of all the Beans, he had his hands the fullest, for in addition to his flashlight, he wielded the huge net at the ready. Also, the duffle bag of supplies was slung across his back, and it periodically became ensnared in the low-hanging branches of trees.

"We might have gone off the traditional trail," Neil said. "But now we're on a _different_ trail. Now we're on the trail of the beast!"

"Well, he does seem to know what he's doing," Maria said.

"Yeah, he sure is confident," Sara agreed. "You're right, Nibbler wouldn't lead us astray. As long as he's on our team, we'll always be able to find our way home."

No sooner had Sara voiced these words, than her foot sank into what could best be described as a _quagmire_. Her leg sank up to the knee in a thick soup of mud and swamp water.

"Hmmm..." she said, as she felt the dank water soak into her pant leg and sneaker. With a great deal of effort, she wrestled her foot from the quagmire. "Then again..."

"I'll admit, things have taken a bit of a turn for the worse," Neil said, as he stumbled over a root, waving his hands for balance. "But we can't give up now! We've already come so far. And Nibbler's hot on the trail."

For some time now, Neil and the other Beans had noticed that the ground beneath their feet was substantially changing. It had been becoming... mushier. As their feet connected with the earth, they made a strange sound, like _muck_ , _muck_ , _muck_.

The woods that they were exploring were becoming wetter. Marshier. Swampier. At this point, they were _really_ off of the beaten path. They were far beyond any part of the woods they had previously ventured into.

"Don't worry," Neil said, hopping from one stable spot of ground to the next, trying to keep up with Nibbler. "You've just got to, uh... watch your step. Use your flashlight!"

Neil had accelerated his pace, and was close behind Nibbler. He batted branches and briars from his path, oblivious to their bothersome intrusion upon his mission. He ignored the aching in his sore ribs.

Success was near at hand, he knew. Though all the Beans were interested in what this adventure might uncover, it was Neil that was most invested in _Operation: Beast Quest_. For it was _he_ who had twice experienced a close encounter while manning his domain of centerfield. It was _he_ who had been gazed upon by those strange, green eyes. His curiosity had been engaged, and it needed to be satisfied.

He wanted to know. He _had_ to know.

He would not be able to rest until he did. Sound sleep would not be his until he knew what was out there, lurking in the woods of Hollow Oak, behind his ball field, behind his school, behind his _home_.

" _We're almost there_ ," he whispered. " _I can feel it_."

### Chapter Twenty-Seven

### The Silhouette of Doom

"What?" Sara called from further back, as she pushed vines and brambles from her path.

"We're almost there!" Neil repeated. "Trust me... come on, follow me!"

And so they did. They followed Neil. For he was their friend. And that is what friends do... they trust one another. They offer their support. Friends will help each other, when no one else will.

Do you understand this, my astute reader? Do you understand what it means to trust in a friend, and to help them when no one else is willing? Almost certainly, you _do_ understand. For a life without such friendship is nearly unbearable.

Others would have given up long ago. Adults would have never even begun this adventure, no matter how convincing Neil might be. But Jack, and Sara, and Maria – his friends – kept him company in the darkened woods. They followed him into the dark, even as the forest gave way to swamp. Even as the hour became late, and they journeyed into realms that were absurdly past their bedtimes.

They could have been safe at home, nestled beneath their blankets, dreaming of all those pleasant things that middle graders imagine in their sleep. But they were not. They had come with Neil, to stand beside him in his quest for truth. To follow their friend into the unknown.

And not a one of them regretted it.

Neil forged forth, into this strange, uncharted land that was cloaked in darkness. He held his flashlight before him, and the beam of yellow that it generated wobbled about, glancing off of gnarly stumps and great trees. There were moss-covered barks, and dangling vines, and pools of swamp water that burped with dank, dark bubbles.

" _We're deep in it now_ ," he murmured to himself.

And yet, he was certain that answers lay just around the next bend. Answers that would be theirs, if they could just press on, as Nibbler so fearlessly did.

Neil vaguely became aware that the air itself had _changed_. It smelled of a different quality... it was thicker, and murkier, and wetter. They had gone from a forest environment to that of a swamp. He could smell the mud and the sogginess in his nose.

And then, there came a smell that was even... _stranger_. Stranger, yes. But Neil could not describe it as unfamiliar. For it _was_ familiar. He had smelled it before.

There came a new breeze, independent of the cool wind that had swept through the forest this night. Unlike that cool wind, it was warm. It was a bizarre, organic current, carrying upon it the scent that triggered in Neil's memory the sensation he had earlier experienced in the evening, when playing in centerfield.

The breeze was like the warm breath of a beast, exhaled and carrying an indefinable essence. It was a little like moss, and like something that had perhaps not yet even been discovered on this earth.

It was but a moment later that this strange breeze was complimented by the appearance of something that brought Neil to a dead stop in his tracks.

Likewise, Nibbler had pulled up short. His paws dug into the swampy earth, entrenched in mud and weeds. His ears lay flat against his head. And most alarmingly of all, he had begun to growl, deep in his barrel chest. Those who knew the Labradoodle knew that he did _not_ growl. He was as friendly as a dog could possibly be.

But now, he rumbled with a low, warning noise. The fur on his back raised in tufted spikes (at least, as much so as his strange coat could allow for). And what, wondered the Beans, could cause their beloved Nibbler to react in such a way?

Something big. Something _bad_.

On the heels of Nibbler, Neil had come to a stop with an equal abruptness. And his focus was drawn to a pair of orbs, glowing with a green, radiant light. Those orbs narrowed, and seemed to focus upon him, like eyes. But they were far too high off of the ground to be eyes... Weren't they?

The green orbs came closer. As they came, they briefly disappeared, but then were back, as bright as ever. Neil realized that they had blinked. They _were_ eyes. And now, he could see definition within... there were pupils, and they were focusing on _him_.

But _what on earth_ could have eyes that towered above the ground at such a height? And _what on earth_ could possibly have _green_ eyes, glowing in the darkness, as if afire with some inner fury?

As the eyes came closer, they were accompanied by a sound that Neil recognized all too well. And at this point, my astute reader, you surely recognize the sound just as easily as Neil did. For it was this: _Rustle-rustle-rush-crush. Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_.

But this time, the sound was much louder than when Neil had heard it in centerfield. And it was much clearer, for he was closer to the source. He could hear the brush being swept aside at the passage of this enormous beast. He could hear the popping of branches and boughs as they were snapped with nary a thought by this passing creature. The _trees_ _themselves_ bent before its presence.

_Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_.

Drawing closer, expelling before it the warm wind of mossy breath. Its strange eyes glowing with green fire, fixed upon Neil.

_RUSTLE-RUSTLE-RUSH-CRUSH_.

Neil stood before the approaching beast, frozen and transfixed by its presence. He had thought that it was something big, but he had underestimated it. The word _big_ did not even begin to describe it. This thing was _humongous_.

The dark silhouette of the thing was awe-inspiring. It was a towering, terrifying entity. It was the very silhouette of doom.

It immediately became clear that whatever this beast might be, it was _not_ an escaped circus animal. Considerable though Neil's imagination might have been, it was unlike anything he had ever before seen or dreamed of. And there was not a single thing inside of the bag of supplies that could help the Beans, least of all the net, which now seemed silly and useless.

The truth had become painfully obvious. The Beans were in way... _way_... over their heads.

### Chapter Twenty-Eight

### Run... Run for Your Very Life

Jack, Sara, and Maria had caught up to Neil, and now the group of them stood together, collectively staring in wonder and horror at the approaching beast. They could not even raise their flashlights to illuminate its form, for they had been dumbstruck by its awesome presence.

It came closer, much of its features draped in shadow and darkness, pushing aside the brush and the branches that stood before it. Coming closer... toward _them_.

Suddenly, the fishermen's net seemed terribly, ridiculously inadequate. Jack let it fall from his hands to the marshy ground below. His flashlight joined it. His fingers, it seemed, no longer worked as they should. They had gone numb, and lacked feeling. Like his friends, he could only stare in awe at the approaching silhouette of the unknown beast. They were almost hypnotized by its presence, forgetting all else in the world.

It took everything within Neil to break his paralysis. Tearing his eyes from the approaching horror, he turned to his friends. " _Run!_ " he shouted. " _Run for your very lives!_ "

It did the trick. As one, the four of them turned on their heels and began sprinting. They ran hard, ran from this thing that they had so eagerly tracked down.

With their legs and arms pumping, their flashlights shook like crazy. The beams of light that they generated seemed sorely lacking, as the children ran through this darkened swamp and forest. There were countless pitfalls and roots to trip and ensnare, and the Beans struggled to retain their balance and their footing.

They had not gone far when Jack called out for his dog. " _Nibbler!_ "

Neil pulled to a stop, and looked back. Nibbler had stayed behind, to give the Beans time to escape. He was the bravest of Labradoodles, the very noblest of dogs. He stood with his hackles raised, growling and barking at the approaching beast, which seemed to outweigh him by an astronomical sum. In his panic, Neil had almost forgotten about him.

Jack grabbed Neil by the shoulder. "We can't leave him behind!"

"Of course not!" Neil agreed.

They did not even need to think about it. Nibbler was not just a pet, but also their friend, and they would not leave him behind. Jack had dropped his flashlight earlier, and would need Neil's help if he were to go back for the dog. Sara and Maria also reversed direction, and joined the boys.

"Come on, let's go get him!" Sara shouted.

They ran back to where Nibbler was making his stand, growling and barking. The silhouette of the beast loomed ever closer, drawing in upon the Labradoodle, who bravely stood his ground, refusing to give an inch.

_RUSTLE-RUSTLE-RUSH-CRUSH_.

Jack called to him, but Nibbler would not abandon his station. He had no choice but to run forward, and grab his dog by the collar. While he did so, Neil, Sara, and Maria tried their best to provide a distraction.

Behaving like a troop of crazed spider-monkeys, they jumped up and down, waving their arms and screaming wildly. They had once been told in school that this was something you could do to chase off a bear, should you run into one in the woods. Whatever they had met, it most certainly was _not_ a bear, but they hoped their efforts would work.

At the feel of Jack's hand on his collar, Nibbler finally turned. Uttering a final _woof_ , he spun about, and joined the Beans as they once more fled.

Unfortunately, the antics of the leaping, shouting Beans did nothing to chase off the beast. It had come closer still, and was nearly on top of them at this point. Just before he turned his back on it to flee, Neil saw the final screen of branches and vines parting, as they were forcefully pushed aside. And through that wall of brush, he saw a hand burst through.

Surely, Neil thought, his eyes must be playing tricks on him. Surely, his panicked mind was causing him to see things that were not quite there, further distorted by the darkness and moonlight. For that hand was strange, and monstrous in proportion.

Because monsters were for the movies. They did not exist in real life... Did they?

But _what if_ , he wondered? His imagination was running wild, running like his feet. _What if?_

The Beans ran. They ran as if their very lives depended on it. And judging from what they had already seen and heard, they were pretty certain that was actually the case.

The beast was in pursuit. The roles had been reversed. No longer were the Beans tracking _it_... it was now following _them_. They could hear it behind them, closing the gap, pushing aside any obstacles that stood before it. _RUSTLE-RUSTLE-RUSH-CRUSH_.

But as fast as they ran (or _tried_ to run) the swampy terrain slowed them down. Their sneakers became bogged down in the marshy goop as they misplaced their steps. They were in far too much of a rush to look carefully before each step. Their shoes were filled with muddy water, and their jeans were soaked up to the knees.

And they could hear something else, growing ever closer. Something like thunder, or the beating of a jungle drum. _Thoom-thoom-thoom_. Like the footsteps of a giant. A _hungry_ giant.

Neil's sore ribs were taking a toll on him. He was starting to slow down, falling behind. Clutching at his ribcage, he felt his side burning. His breath was hard to come by. He wheezed for air, and was beginning to feel dizzy. The others also slowed, so as not to leave him behind. Nibbler woofed encouragement.

" _Go on_ ," Neil gasped. His hand was pressed against his aching side. " _Go! I'll be fine_."

"Not a chance," Jack told him.

He grabbed Neil under one arm to support him, and Sara grabbed him under the other. Together, they helped him along, with Maria and Nibbler bringing up the rear of their group.

Together, they fled from the pursuing beast. Behind them, they heard the noises, drawing closer. _RUSTLE-RUSTLE-RUSH-CRUSH_ , accompanied by the thunderous footsteps: THOOM-THOOM-THOOM.

The Beans moved as fast as they possibly could, but escape seemed hopeless. Slowed by the uncharted terrain, they were undoubtedly losing ground to whatever horrible thing crashed through the woods behind them.

Plunging through a veil of brush, the Beans fell into a swampy area. Muck filled their shoes, and they stumbled forward. To their dismay, they saw that there lay before them a semicircle of thick trees, and a webbing of vines was strung between them. It effectively created a barrier, one that they could not pass.

In desperation, they edged as close to the wall of trees and vines as possible, helping Neil along. But once they had reached it, they found that it was indeed an impenetrable barrier. The semicircle was too wide for them to bypass, and the beast was too close behind.

_RUSTLE-RUSTLE-RUSH-CRUSH_.

Slowed by the boggy water, the Beans turned as they heard the snapping of tree limbs behind them, closer on their heels. They huddled together, holding each other in awe and terror. Nibbler bravely stood before them, barking at the fearsome creature.

With a final lunge, the beast burst into the clearing, revealing itself to the Beans. Its physical appearance went beyond anything they could have imagined. It was, in fact, something that went beyond the comprehension of _any_ person's mind, for it existed in a realm unknown by humankind.

Neil, Jack, Sara, and Maria could only stand and tremble, paralyzed with fear. The beast opened its enormous mouth, and it loosed an ear-splitting bellow that shook the very clothes on their backs, and the bones in their bodies.

### Chapter Twenty-Nine

### Behold the Beast

The Beans huddled together, staring up at the towering creature before them. They shook with fear at the sight of it, and at the blood-curdling roar that it loosed from its lungs. It was not an escaped circus animal. That much had become painfully clear.

It was a _monster_... There could be no doubt of it.

The beast stood upright and on two legs... like a man... but it was clearly _no_ man. It was gigantic in stature. Its height was far greater than even the tallest of human beings. Its shoulders were vast, and incredibly broad, and seemed capable of hefting the very weight of the world.

Its hands were huge, powerful, and gnarled with what looked like tree roots at the backs of the knuckles. As the beast bellowed, those huge hands curled into fists at its sides, resembling wrecking balls that could devastate whatsoever they struck.

The arms of the creature were (quite literally) the size of tree trunks. Bulging with heavy muscles, they flexed and contracted, expanding to a tremendous breadth. Thick veins pulsed throughout those muscled, massive arms.

There were so many veins, they looked like a map of roads, networking throughout the forearms and biceps and triceps, traveling into the shoulders and chest of the beast. They glowed with a strange, green blood that was visible against the tightly stretched skin.

Like tributaries toward a river, the veins gathered at the chest of this colossal monster, feeding the massive heart that beat within its chest. As it bellowed its furious cry, the arteries at its neck (which was the size of a tree stump) became clear, pressing against its strange flesh.

And the flesh of this monster was _very_ strange, indeed. Its entire body was covered with what seemed to be a brownish-greenish, mottled skin, layered with vines and moss and foliage. There was undoubtedly a _botanical_ quality to the beast. In a few spots on its body, there were even sprouting flowers, lending a contrasting amount of blue and yellow color to its form.

As for the head of the beast, it was a curious thing. Long tendrils that looked like green vines ran from the peak of its gnarled cranium, down the back of its broad neck. They created the appearance of plant-like dreadlocks of hair.

A furrowed brow protected those large, green orbs that were the eyes of the beast. They were narrowed with what seemed a tremendous, animalistic fury, and focused upon the Beans. The pupils sparkled with an incredible, rich color of deepest green, visible even in the night. And furthermore, the eyes held what seemed to be an undeniable intelligence, on par with that of a human being... or perhaps even _beyond_ that of a human being.

Beneath an expansive nose, there was a huge and hideous mouth. It nearly seemed to be on hinges, so widely had it opened to unleash its roar. Inside of this cavernous mouth, craggy teeth shimmered with a slimy layer of saliva. A green tongue shook between the teeth, quivering with the vibration of the bellow.

Paralyzed with fear, the Beans seized one another in panic. " _Gaaaaahhhhhh!_ " they collectively screamed.

But the noise they produced was insignificant, compared to that of the monster before them. Their scream was drowned by its primal, bone-shaking bellow: " _GROOOOOOOOAAAARRRRRR!!!_ "

At long last, as the Beans stood trembling, the bellow of the beast began to decrease in volume. It finally trailed off into a strange, rasping sound. The creature leaned forward, placing its hands on its knees, and seemed to be sputtering for air.

It soon became clear to the Beans that this fearsome beast was _coughing_. This would have surely been an ideal opportunity to attempt an escape, but the Beans were simply too awed to flee. They remained rooted to the spot, staring at the monster in fear, and wonder, and curiosity.

After some further coughing, the beast finally stood upright, breathing deeply and sighing. And then, with what struck them as the strangest development yet, the beast opened its mouth... and spoke.

" _Welcome, little ones. I have been waiting for you_."

### Chapter Thirty

### Friends of the Forest

" _Sorry about all that noise,"_ the beast said. _"It seems I had something stuck in my throat. You caught me a bit off guard, you see, and I was in the middle of a midnight snack. Something must have gone down the wrong pipe_."

" _Gobstoppers!_ " Jack cried, pointing up at beast. "It speaks! It _speaks!_ "

" _It speaks!_ " Neil agreed wholeheartedly, as he leaned upon his friends. They were quite shocked with the development.

The monster took a step forward. His massive foot created a great splash in the swamp water, causing the Beans to flinch in alarm. Bending his huge body somewhat, he leaned in closer to the children.

He offered them a tremendous smile, and although his mouth was filled with craggy teeth, he no longer looked quite so terrifying when he engaged in this friendly gesture. At this distance, the Beans could quite clearly smell his strange, mossy breath, washing over them like a warm wind.

" _Bwahahahaha!_ " the beast chuckled. His laughter was like a bass drum, reverberating within the hollowed trunk of an enormous tree. " _I apologize, little ones. It seems that I must have given you quite a start, eh? You thought that was a war-cry or something, did you?_ "

"It certainly crossed _my_ mind," Maria admitted. "You seemed awfully upset, you know."

" _Not at all! Just clearing my throat. I tried to welcome you, when you arrived at my home, but you took off so quickly. I had to chase after you in order to catch up to you, and... I say, you're awfully fleet of foot, aren't you, little ones? I had quite the time catching up_."

"You don't intend to eat us, then?" Sara asked.

The beast rumbled with his great, cavernous laughter once more. " _Bwahahahaha! Eat you? I should say not. How wonderfully imaginative. Nope, plants and berries are mostly what I eat_."

At this close distance, the Beans were granted a much better view of the monster's features. Upon further inspection, it became clear that the many teeth of the creature had flat biting surfaces. It seemed that the beast was indeed an herbivore, not a carnivore. Though this was some consolation to the frightened Beans, the sheer size of the monster was still enough to awe and intimidate them.

It put their minds somewhat at ease, however, that Nibbler had begun to warm up to the beast. He had meandered forward, curiously sniffing about the creature's ankles, his tail wagging furiously. This was certainly a good sign, for the Labradoodle was an excellent judge of character.

"Well, I'll be gob-smacked... We've discovered Bigfoot!" Jack declared.

"And he speaks!" Neil added.

" _Bigfoot! Goodness, no. Bwahahahaha!_ " The beast once more heaved with chuckles. He rubbed his gnarled knuckles across his green eyes, wiping away plump tears of laughter. " _No, no. The one your kind call Bigfoot is my tiny cousin, protector of the lands far south of here. Though distantly related, there is little resemblance between the two of us, though our purpose is largely the same. I say, he would get quite a chuckle from such mistaken identity!_ "

"And if you're not Bigfoot... who are you?" Sara asked.

" _You can call me Titus, little ones_."

"You have a _name?_ " Maria asked.

" _Well, sure_ ," Titus said. His face stretched into a broad smile, and he chuckled again. " _Why shouldn't I? Don't_ you _all have names?_ "

"We sure do," Neil said. He introduced himself, and then did the same for his friends. "And what exactly did you mean when you said 'your purpose'?"

" _An excellent question, little one. I am the protector of this land. I am most at home in the swamp, surrounded by all things marshy and boggy,"_ Titus explained. He extended one of his massive hands, sweeping his gnarled fingers around the woods. " _But my domain of responsibility extends to all these surrounding forests. Every living thing within falls under my protection, from those that would bring them harm_."

"But who would harm them?" Neil asked.

" _I am saddened to say that it is your kind, mostly. Humans, as you call yourselves_."

From the depths of the forest, life began to stir. From between the trees, animals of every stripe came forth. Frogs and toads hopped about the huge, gnarly feet of the beast, and Nibbler greeted them with a friendly chuff.

Beavers emerged, splashing their wide, flat tails in the water. Turtles appeared in the swamp, poking their wise, wrinkled heads above the murky surface.

A tall, blue heron landed nearby, chirping inquisitively. In the trees above, there was likewise a flurry of activity, as the nesting birds awoke for this midnight rendezvous, lending their voices to the gathering.

Raccoons and possums scrambled over the tree barks, coming closer. Porcupines waddled forth, beside bounding rabbits. Nibbler wagged his tail and smiled at a pair of approaching red foxes, who regarded the Labradoodle with curious eyes.

From deeper within the forest, the Beans could see moonlight reflecting from the eyes and antlers of approaching deer. And there was even a great, lumbering bear, which yawned sleepily, rubbing at its eyes with one paw.

Every animal among them was unafraid. In fact, they seemed _drawn_ toward Titus, this great and massive swamp beast, as if they readily recognized him as their sworn protector.

" _There are those who would harm the creatures who live in the wild, and it is my kind who exist to defend them from such. We are as old as the land itself, as ancient as the earth beneath your feet. Our kind take many different forms, like my cousin, the one you call 'Bigfoot'. But we live in every nook and cranny of the earth, hidden from the eyes of humans... except for a select few, to whom we might reveal ourselves, when our options have become precious few_."

"Why did you reveal yourself to _us_?" Neil asked.

" _You, too, are friends of the forest. Are you not?_ "

"Well, sure. We've played in these woods our whole lives," Maria said.

" _Indeed. And that is why I summoned you, little ones. I knew it was only a matter of time before your imaginations and your curiosity compelled you to venture forth, in search of the truth_."

"You've been watching me," Neil said. "In the outfield, right?"

" _Yes_ ," Titus said. The botanical dreadlocks shook about as he nodded his head. " _I've had my eye on you. And now... I need your help, little ones_."

### Chapter Thirty-One

### A New Quest

"What could _we_ possibly do, that _you_ couldn't do?" Sara asked.

"Yeah," Maria said. "You're _way_ bigger. _Way_ stronger. Why would you need _us_?"

" _You are capable of more than you give yourselves credit for, little ones. You can venture forth, where my kind cannot. For as I said, we reveal ourselves to a select few of your kind, but only when there is no alternative. And such is now the case. I am out of options, you see, and it is only you who can help me, little ones_. "

"But why us?" Neil asked. "Why not somebody with _real_ power, like some adults?"

" _But it_ is _you who has the power, little ones. For you are young, and you still believe in the wonders of this world. Grown humans can be of no help to me, for they have been stripped of their imaginations, as the years toward adulthood marched on. Even if I chose to reveal my presence to an adult human... which would be inadvisable... it would almost certainly do no good. Why, I could stand in front of an adult, and he would probably look right through me. His eyes would refuse to see, his heart would fail to believe. His mind would convince him that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, and he would shortly forget our encounter entirely. Such is one of the strange, sad nuances of adulthood_."

"I don't know..." Sara said. "Seems like you would be kind of hard to forget."

The beast chuckled. " _Bwahahaha! But forget me, they would! Have you never seen the ridicule with which an adult is treated, should they report an encounter with my cousin, Bigfoot? Humans who report such things are treated as if they have lost their minds. And so, it is easier to simply forget, and to live with blinders on_ , _trudging through the simple boredoms of adulthood_."

Jack had stepped closer to Titus, and having removed the tape measure from the duffle bag, he was trying to get an accurate reading on the beast's height. Nibbler stood beside him, watching the process and wagging his tail.

"You're a nine-footer!" Jack reported with awe. "Incredible!"

Titus chuckled at his amusement, and continued. " _As I said, my kind exists everywhere in this world, dispersed throughout the lands, charged with defending the creatures of the wild. But there have been times when we have failed, when we have fallen, when those we were sworn to protect were lost to the encroaching hand of humans. Such sorrowful failure has happened only rarely... but when it does happen, it is disaster for our friends in the forest. Their homes are eradicated, replaced by an urban sprawl, and by buildings so vast and tall that they scrape the very sky itself._ "

"But nothing like that is going to happen in _our_ town," Neil said. "Not in Hollow Oak! There's no way this place is on the verge of becoming a city."

" _Very true_. _Fortunately, the majority of this land remains covered by the forest, still. But yet, a great threat remains_ ," Titus said. His green eyes reflected a terrible sorrow, and he gestured to the swampy water at his feet. " _For you see, little ones, this water has been poisoned. It is tainted with a toxic sludge that permeates its substance. Even now, our friends within the forest are suffering, weakened by the poison that flows downriver, corrupting their homes._ "

" _Poison_..." Neil whispered.

The Beans looked down at the water around them. It was dimly illuminated by the moonlight, and now that the beast mentioned it, there _did_ seem to be a strange quality to its color. It bubbled with marshy gas, and swirled about their ankles and calves, murky and muddy.

" _Do not worry, little ones_ ," Titus said. " _You will not be harmed. Your brief contact with the poisoned water will not hurt you. But imagine, if you will, what ill effect it would have upon you, to drink from such poisoned water. Even if the poison was a very small part of the water as a whole... imagine what it might do to you over time, as_ _you drank from it, day after day, month after month. It is a slow, yet certain poisoning that they suffer. And one that has been wrought by the hands of your kind... humans_."

Titus pointed, with one long and gnarly finger, toward a nearby bank of the swampy channel. The Beans turned their heads and looked where he pointed. There came a faint glimmer of moonlight from something that was clearly a foreign object, but it was too dark to determine what it was. As one, the Beans turned their flashlights upon the item, bathing it in the wobbly glow.

What was illuminated was a rusty, fifty-five gallon drum. The lid had been partially popped off, and even now, there seeped from within a nasty sludge.

" _They've been appearing for some time, now_ ," Titus said. " _Traveling from upriver, floating into our swamps, and streams, and water supplies._ _Some of these barrels remain intact, their integrity sound. But some, I am sad to say, do not. They rupture, and their poison flows into our water. The source of these barrels is human in origin. This is the new quest that I charge you with, little ones. If you are truly friends of the forest, then you must uncover the source of this poisonous substance... and put a stop to it._ "

Amid a flutter of wings, a beautiful bird descended from above, landing on the shoulder of the swamp beast. It was large, perhaps the size of a crow. Blue-gray feathers covered its back, and its underside was black and white, with accents of red. From its perch atop the creature's shoulder, it stared down at the Beans with its piercing eyes.

Titus turned his head toward the bird, and smiled. " _Ah. This is Arturo, little ones. He is a peregrine falcon, gifted with extraordinary vision and speed. He is my most trusted messenger, and a gifted agent of reconnaissance. He will assist you, if you choose to accept my request for help._ "

Arturo made a quick, shuddering motion, ruffling his plumage. A handful of feathers drifted down, landing inside of the waiting palm of Titus. Handling them gently, the swamp beast leaned forward, crouching in the shallow water. He extended his fingers and offered the feathers to the Beans, one for each of them. Neil, Jack, Sara, and Maria took the feathers, admiring the colors as they examined them.

" _This is but a small token of appreciation, for whatever help you might lend us. From myself, and Arturo, and the creatures of the wild. For you, our friends of the forest._ "

"Thanks," Neil said, as he turned the feather in his hands. "Um... do we have anything we can give to Titus in return?"

Jack rummaged about inside of the duffle bag. "Ooh! Look here."

He stepped forward, with a granola bar clutched in one hand. Quickly peeling off the wrapper, he extended his arm and offered it to Titus.

" _Hmmm... what is this?_ " the swamp beast asked.

He reached his own hand forward, and gently took the granola bar from Jack. He sniffed at it, his nostrils flaring with breath, his eyes glowing with interest. It looked absurdly small in his hand, more like a stick of gum than a granola bar.

"It's a delicious treat!" Sara said.

"Just go ahead and eat it. You'll like it," Maria assured him.

Titus was agreeable enough, and he popped the granola bar into his mouth. It was gone almost instantly, after a couple of brief chomps. " _Mmmm. You're right. This is really quite tasty._ "

"If you think that's good, we should bring you pizza sometime. That'll _really_ blow your mind," Jack said.

" _Pizza, eh?_ " Titus asked, as he rubbed at his chin in thought. " _I think I would rather enjoy that. It has a nice ring to it. And I thank you for your gift. I believe we have now secured the first bonds of trust between us, having exchanged tokens of friendship. All that remains is for you to decide if you will help the forest, or if you will not._

" _Ultimately, the decision lies with you. I will not... and cannot... directly interfere in the world of humans. The one exception to this is you – the children of this curious species that believes it rules the planet. You are the only ones who can believe in me. You are the only ones that I can reveal myself to... and only to a select few of you, at that. I ask only that you do what you feel in your hearts to be right_."

Neil stepped closer to the swamp beast, and his friends stood beside him. "You can count on us, Titus," he promised. "We'll do our best."

Titus smiled in return, revealing his craggy teeth. His bright, green eyes were filled with happiness. " _I knew that I had chosen you wisely. Thank you, little ones. That is all I can ask of you_."

### Chapter Thirty-Two

### Heading Upriver

The Beans began their journey upriver, trekking through the wild. Their soaked sneakers marched through wetlands, plopping through swamp water, and muddy riverbanks, and high weeds. Nibbler led the way, bravely pushing forth into this unknown terrain, undaunted by the task at hand.

Much of the sky overhead was blocked by the canopy of trees, but they still saw Arturo from time to time. They would see a black silhouette dart across the bright circle of the moon, and hear him uttering a low call, as he soared upon the currents of air above.

As they traveled through the forest and the swamp, into these areas that were far beyond their experiences, and equally far beyond the previously known limits of their bedtimes, they felt electric with energy. They were not tired in the slightest, although they were usually sound asleep at this hour.

They were thrilled with their adventure... it seemed like something of a dream to have encountered a creature that no one in the entire world had ever before seen. And to have been recruited by that mysterious monster! There was something very much magical about the entire episode.

But even more magical than their meeting with the swamp beast was the intangible feeling of camaraderie that existed among the four friends. They had been close for a long time, but this adventure was bonding them like never before. Their friendship, they knew, would forever be stronger after tonight.

As they journeyed upriver, through the darkened forest, the Beans occasionally saw more of the huge barrels. Those that they saw had washed ashore the riverbanks, and they were in poor shape, oozing sludge from within their rusty confines. Of course, these were only the barrels that they could see, and they wondered how many had sunk into the deeper portions of the river and the swamp, now hidden beyond view.

They lost track of time, but after perhaps a half an hour, they began to see some illumination coming through the forest ahead of them. The lighting was dim at first, but as they drew closer, it seemed to grow brighter, reflecting from the treetops and shimmering on the surface of the water.

Shortly after, a building came into view. It was a rather nondescript structure, built from brick, and utilitarian in nature. It was clear, however that it was the source of the light they had seen from afar, for there were several halogen lamps affixed to the outside of the building.

The Beans crouched behind a large group of shrubberies at the edge of the river, studying the structure from afar. Nibbler stealthily hunkered down beside them. They saw Arturo circle above the building, and then land on the edge of the roof. From his perch, the bird seemed to stare at the Beans, waiting patiently.

"What is it?" Sara asked.

"I think..." Neil paused. They were speaking in hushed whispers, as if in fear of discovery. "I think it's the sneaker factory!"

Though he had never seen it from this particular angle, and was therefore unfamiliar with this view of the building, Neil pieced together that what he was looking at was the backside of his father's sneaker factory.

They must have traveled a great distance through the forest, indeed. For although the Hollow Oak Sneaker Factory was a short drive from the neighborhood of the Beans, it would be a rather long walk. The only way they had been able to reach it at all was because they had unknowingly made a shortcut through the forest, exploring new areas of the woods they had never before set foot within.

There was a parking lot at the rear of the sneaker factory, where several cars currently sat in silence. They surely belonged to the nightshift workers. Next to this small parking lot, there was a loading dock, which was a place where the factory received and sent out shipments. A portion of the loading dock area met the riverbank.

As they crouched down, spying on the factory, Jack whispered, "What does it mean?"

Momentarily, there was a low, groaning noise, and the Beans saw a garage door rolling up at the rear of the building. Beyond the large doorway, there was the interior of the factory, which was well lit for the nightshift workers. Even from this distance, they could hear noise from within, as the laborers went about their chores, working the machinery.

Although the inside of the factory was well lit for the nightshift workers, the Beans' view of the operations within was somewhat blocked. In the garage doorway, there was a large silhouette of something that they could not make out. It looked somewhat like a huge, crouching beast. Furthermore, there seemed to be a low, constant _growl_ that was generated by the darkened thing.

"What _is_ that?" Maria asked, squinting through the cattails and skunk cabbage.

As if it had heard her, the thing opened its eyes. They were huge, blazing orbs of bright yellow. Shaped like perfect circles, they seemed to burn through the blackness of the night itself. They cut beams of bright light into the air, and the Beans instinctively dove for cover, seeking to avoid the gaze of those horrible eyes. Nibbler joined them, his ears pressed flat against his head.

They tumbled into a pile, clutching at each other in fear. And who could blame them? It had been a most stressful and unusual night. Was it possible, that on this, the strangest of adventures, they could encounter not one, but _two_ monsters?

### Chapter Thirty-Three

### Dastardly Deeds

" _Gears and sprockets!_ " Sara hissed. "What _is_ that thing?"

"I don't know," Neil gasped, hugging Nibbler close to his body, to keep him out of sight.

They were getting soaked in the chilly water, and covered in mud, but they barely noticed. After a few short seconds, they heard the low growling intensify, and Neil dared to peek above the cover that they all lay behind. From his heightened position of observation, he reported to the others.

"Hey," he whispered. "It's not a monster... it's just a machine. It's a little bulldozer."

The others joined Neil, peeking over their cover. Now, they could see that what their rattled nerves had perceived to be blazing eyeballs were simply headlights, mounted to the front of the machine.

They realized that the growling that they heard was the machine's motor. As it grew in tone, the little bulldozer lurched forward, wheeling out of the factory. Although partially blinded by the headlights, the Beans could see that the big bucket on the front of the bulldozer held a pair of barrels... the same type of fifty-five gallon drums that they had seen throughout the swamp and the river.

With a subdued horror, they watched as the bulldozer crawled to the edge of the loading dock area, and dumped its cargo into the river. The huge barrels landed with a tremendous splash of water. They dipped and bobbed for a moment, before proceeding to float downriver.

" _No_..." Neil whispered. " _It can't be. This can't be true_."

The bulldozer began to reverse back toward the garage door. As soon as it was within the factory, the door began to descend. Whoever was operating the machine could not be identified. He was but a silhouetted blob, concealed behind the blinding illumination of the headlights.

For the next couple of minutes, the Beans deliberated among themselves about what they had seen. About what it might mean, and what they should next do.

Soon after, a normal sized door opened, several feet to the side of the garage door, which was now closed. For a brief moment, a figure was silhouetted within the doorframe. It was a person with broad shoulders, and tall enough that he almost had to stoop to fit through. It seemed that there was something gripped within one hand, but they could not yet be sure.

As the figure stepped outside, it immediately became clear who he was.

" _Jasper!_ " Neil exclaimed in a low whisper.

As if he had heard his name being called, the janitor stopped cold in his tracks. His head jerked toward the hiding spot of the Beans, and they ducked down behind their cover, huddling ever closer to each other. They held Nibbler tight, so that he stayed down low, hidden with them. Through the high grass and brambles, they could see Jasper peering in their direction, his single eye squinted in concentration.

His stubbly jaw shifted, and the corncob pipe moved from one side of his clenched teeth to the other. For a few terrifying moments, the Beans were sure that they had been discovered. The sound of their heartbeats was like thunder in their ears, like the galloping hooves of a herd of beasts.

They stared at each other, their eyes wide with terror, their breath held in their lungs. They knew as well as anyone: You don't mess with Jasper. Even Nibbler understood the gravity of the matter, and he remained silent, his ears pressed flat against his head, his eyes filled with concern, his snout somberly quivering about.

And now, what would the dastardly janitor do, should he spot the children spying on him, past midnight in this most unlikely of settings? He was clearly in the midst of some fiendish plot, and he would not take kindly to any meddling by the Beans.

They were already on his bad side, after all. In fact, although Jasper seemed to have a poor disposition when it came to children in general, it seemed fair to assume that the Beans were the ones that he _most_ despised.

Still perched at the edge of the factory's roof, Arturo ruffled his feathers and uttered a low call. Distracted by the noise, Jasper looked away from the place where the Beans were hiding, and up at the bird. The two seemed to glower at each other in a wavering, silent stalemate.

" _Hmph_ ," Jasper finally grumbled, before looking away from the perched falcon, and going about his work.

Now that he was no longer staring intently in their direction, Neil and his friends felt somewhat safe. Shifting their bodies, they once more peered above their cover, to more closely study Jasper's activity.

It was indeed the menacing janitor, of that there could be no doubt. Even from their distant point of observation, the Beans could see enough of his features to be sure of his identity. He was, after all, one of a kind.

The bulky, one-eyed janitor went about his work, sweeping away at the loading dock with his mahogany broom, cleaning up the refuse and debris that had accumulated. Jasper whistled while he worked, chewing at his corncob pipe. The great ring of keys at his waist jangled quietly, like a strange wind chime on a gust of air.

"What is he up to?" asked Jack.

"I don't know," Neil whispered. "But he's up to no good, that's for sure. Whatever he's doing, I'm sure my dad doesn't know about it."

"Do you think he's the one responsible?" Maria asked. "Is he the one dumping those barrels into the river?"

"He must be," Sara said. "But what can we do about it? We can't confront him. Jasper would swat us down like flies."

"We need help," Jack said. "I hate to admit it, but we do. We can't do this by ourselves."

"I don't know..." Neil said. "Titus said that it was up to us, remember? _Little ones_ , as he calls us. He said that he couldn't ask for help from grownups, because they wouldn't understand. He said that they wouldn't even _believe_ in him."

"Right," Maria said. " _He_ can't ask adults for help. But _we_ can. It was up to us to get the ball rolling. Because grownups are blind to things that aren't black and white."

Jack rummaged inside of the duffle bag, until his hand finally emerged, the spare cell phone clutched within his fingers. " _Ah-hah!_ Doesn't seem to have gotten wet..." he said, as he flipped the phone open. "Should we call my dad? He's the shift manager at the sneaker factory tonight."

"No," Sara said. "We don't want Mr. Murray confronting Jasper on his own. Call _my_ dad. Call the chief."

Jack began to hand over the phone to Sara, but then he paused. "Wait... don't you think our parents are going to be mad at us? _Super_ mad?"

"Why?" Neil asked. "Because we snuck out of the house in the middle of the night, when we were already on thin ice for getting in trouble for the food fight? For being up past midnight on a school night? For adventuring in the woods past dark, when we could have gotten lost and starved to death, or fallen into a ravine, or something like that?"

Jack thought about it for a few seconds. It was quite a list of infractions, when Neil put it like that. "Um, yeah. All that stuff."

"Sure, they're going to be mad," Sara said. "But we can't do this by ourselves. This is bigger than all of us."

"You're right," Jack said, as he handed Sara the phone. "We need help."

### Chapter Thirty-Four

### Showdown Looming

It went without saying that Chief Fresco was _quite_ surprised when he was disturbed from a sound sleep as he lay snugly beneath his cozy blankets, jarred awake by the ringing of the phone that sat on the nightstand beside his bed. His surprise quickly became alarm, when he recognized his daughter's voice on the other end of the phone.

His alarm only grew, as he realized that not just one of his daughters was missing from home in the middle of night, but _both_ of them. And as Sara explained to him on the phone, they were currently hunkered down in a muddy riverbank, conducting some sort of bizarre reconnaissance mission.

After this hurried (and rather groggy) conversation, Chief Fresco cleared the cobwebs from his head, and hurtled into the police cruiser that was parked in his driveway, still dressed in nothing more than his flannel pajamas and slippers.

Less than five minutes later, the Beans saw the cruiser peeling down the long driveway that led to the sneaker factory. They could see the headlights illuminating the pavement and the trees beside it, as the car came barreling toward the factory at imprudent speeds.

"Okay," Neil told his friends. "Let's go!"

They had remained hidden by the riverbank, crouched below the cover of the vegetation. Jasper had returned inside of the building, but they remained fearful that the menacing janitor might come back to the loading dock, and spot them. He held a great deal of awe over the Beans, and even now, with Chief Fresco on the scene, they still regarded Jasper with caution.

At Neil's words, the Beans sprang from their cover. Remaining in a tight formation, they sprinted for the police cruiser, with Nibbler leading the way. As they arrived at the car, it braked to a stop. The driver's door opened, and Chief Fresco leaped from within.

"What's this all about?" he asked, as he clutched his daughters close to him. "What are you kids doing out so late? You had me worried sick!"

"We're sorry, Dad," Maria said.

"Yeah, we're sorry," Sara told her father. "But something _terrible_ has happened."

"What is it?" Chief Fresco asked. He held his daughters at arm's length, and looked closer at them, as well as Neil and Jack, and Nibbler, who circled about, wagging his tail. "What manner of shenanigans is this? You kids look like wild animals!"

Now that they were in an area with decent lighting, the Beans could see that they did indeed look very much the worse for wear. They turned to each other, examining their filthy faces. They were covered in mud and weeds, and their clothes were torn in several places. Their pants were soaked up to the knees, and their shoes and socks were likewise drenched. There was so much mud and dirt on their faces, it almost looked like they were wearing disguises. Nibbler now looked like a brown dog, as opposed to an apricot-colored one.

"Never mind that right now, Dad," Sara said. "We've got big problems here! It's Jasper. He's been dumping barrels of toxic waste into the river at night, and destroying the water supply for the wildlife."

" _What?_ " Chief Fresco asked, clutching at the sides of his head. "That doesn't even make any sense. Everybody just slow down here, while I try to sort out what's going on."

"It's true, Chief," Neil said. "He's up to no good, I tell you. He must be trying to sabotage Dad's factory, and take down the whole town with it!"

" _What?_ " Chief Fresco asked again, scratching at his head in confusion.

There was a loud _thoom_ as a door crashed open. The Beans flinched in alarm, and turned toward the noise. Gasping, they instinctively moved behind Chief Fresco for protection. Nibbler began growling.

There, in the open doorway of the loading dock, stood Jasper.

"Well... well... _well_ ," the janitor murmured, as his single eye fell upon the group, piercing them like a spear of gray-blue quartz. He calmly removed the corncob pipe from his mouth with his free hand, while the other rotated the mahogany broom. "And what have we here?"

### Chapter Thirty-Five

### The Plot Thickens

Summoning his courage, Neil stepped forward, to stand beside Chief Fresco. He pointed an accusing finger at Jasper. "We know what you've been up to! You've been dumping barrels of sludge into the river, and we caught you in the act!"

"Oh?" Jasper asked mildly, raising an eyebrow. He seemed remarkably calm for a man who had been caught performing such dastardly deeds, and who now stood face-to-face with the town's lawman.

"That's right," Jack said. "We caught you right in the middle of your skullduggery! How else do you explain what you're doing here, in the middle of the night?"

Still confused by the entire matter, Chief Fresco was trying to get a grasp on things. "Yeah, Jasper," he said. "What _are_ you doing here?"

Jasper began to quietly chuckle, as he walked closer. "Why, I work here, of course."

There was a stunned moment of silence from the Beans and Chief Fresco. Even Nibbler ceased growling, and tilted his head in a quizzical fashion.

"You _work_ here?" Maria asked.

"That's right. You know that Neil's father employs many of the town's residents. I'm no different... I've needed a little extra money to support my family during these hard times, and he's been kind enough to grant me some hours on the nightshift, cleaning up around the factory. It's not easy, working so late at night, and then having to report to school to perform my janitorial duties in the morning. But as I'm sure you children know," Jasper said, smiling in a toothy fashion, "I'm an _awfully_ hard worker."

"And _this_ is how you repay my dad?" Neil asked in outrage. "By dumping toxic goop into the river, and trying to ruin the good name of the sneaker factory?"

" _Bah!_ " Jasper sneered at them, glowering down at the Beans. "You've got it all figured out, do you? If something _untoward_... is going on here, as you seem so sure of... I suggest you speak to the shift manager. Perhaps he can shed some light on these doings that you seem so concerned about."

"Oh, we _will_ ," Jack assured him. "You better believe we will."

"He's right," said a voice from behind Jasper.

The Beans and Chief Fresco looked beyond the janitor's shoulder, and they saw that it was Mr. Murray who had spoken. He was standing in the doorway of the loading dock, behind Jasper.

"He's right," Mr. Murray repeated. He stepped forward, joining the rest of them on the loading dock. "Jasper may be guilty of misconduct. But I'm the shift manager. And ultimately... I'm the one who must take responsibility, for whatever has happened on my watch."

"What do you mean, Dad?" asked Jack. "It must be Jasper!"

"That's almost certainly true," Mr. Murray agreed. He smiled sadly. "But it still happened on my watch, when I was supposed to be the one in charge. My hands, I'm afraid, are not clean in this matter."

The Beans and Chief Fresco stared at Mr. Murray in disbelief. Their jaws hung slackly at this most unexpected of developments.

"What are you saying, Dad?" asked Jack. "You wouldn't do something like this. I _know_ you wouldn't!"

Mr. Murray walked closer to his muddy son, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "That's true, Jack. I would never do such a thing, not myself. But allowing somebody under my own supervision to do it, and turning a blind eye, does not make me free of responsibility."

"I advise you to remain silent in this matter," Jasper grumbled, as he calmly rotated his mahogany broom.

Mr. Murray ignored him, and continued. "I never wanted anybody to get hurt, you understand. Things have been so tough around here. I was only trying to make ends meet, to make the budget work. To see that the new business venture was successful. The future of the factory depended on it... But it's no excuse for what I allowed to happen."

"I'm not following this," Chief Fresco said, scratching at his head.

Mr. Murray sighed. "Things have been real tight for the factory. With the economy being what it is, our revenues have been way down, and our expenses just keep going up... healthcare for our employees, property taxes, even our utilities. The truth is, the factory has been on the brink of bankruptcy for quite some time."

" _Bankruptcy?_ " Neil asked in astonishment.

Mr. Murray nodded his head. "I'm afraid so. We never let you kids know just how bad things were, because we didn't want you to worry. You deserve to live without stress at your age." He laughed sadly. "But I guess I screwed that up, didn't I? Things were getting so bad... always worrying about money, wondering how we were going to make ends meet, just to keep the doors of the factory open for one more week. About three months ago, when our new cleats project was at a critical point of research and development, and we were about to begin the manufacturing process, the budget became unbearably tight. We had more money going out than we had coming in... and that's when I began to allow Jasper to take more and more liberties, and I turned a blind eye to... to what I suspected might be happening."

### Chapter Thirty-Six

### Time to Face the Music

"What do you mean, Mr. Murray?" Neil asked.

"One of our biggest expenses was getting rid of the toxic waste that was created as a byproduct of our manufacturing process. It has to be disposed of in a very specific manner, you see, in order to protect the environment... but it's also very expensive to do so. Our factory was so jam packed with inventory, because the economy's been sluggish, and our sales have been down. Old stock was taking up space, and then we had to make more room for the cleats we were making, as well as all the new assembly equipment we required to manufacture them.

"We had barrels of waste piling up, and nowhere to put them. And that's... that's when Jasper approached me, and offered to take care of our waste problem... In exchange for monetary compensation, of course. He said that he had a solution. I... I didn't ask him what the solution was. I just gave him the go-ahead. I didn't want to know what he was up to. It was easier that way... I could pretend I didn't know what was going on."

Jasper was glowering at Mr. Murray, and in a menacing tone, he grumbled, "Perhaps you should choose your words more carefully... _sir_."

"The new venture was our last ditch effort at saving the factory, you see," Mr. Murray continued. "And maybe, our last chance to save Hollow Oak, too. So many people in this town depend on the factory for their livelihoods. I felt responsible for them... for everybody.

"Looking back, it all seems so clear that it was a terrible idea. I just crumbled under the pressure, and I took a shortcut when the opportunity presented itself. Coach didn't know about what I was allowing to happen on my watch. He would have never allowed it. I thought that I was helping him... helping the town. I thought that in the end, I would save everybody. I was just so desperate... I didn't want the factory to close.

"I didn't want to fail the town... and I didn't want to fail my son. I wanted to keep a roof over your head, Jack, and provide for you. I was sick with worry, and I kept wondering... if the factory closed, how would I pay for the house, and utilities, and food, and clothes, and everything else? How would I ever find another job that paid enough, in this recession? Those are the reasons I allowed these terrible things to go on under my supervision. But you children need to understand that it's _no excuse_ for what I allowed to happen, none at all. My negligence harmed others. I hurt the town that I love, and I let down those who depend on me."

"Oh, cry me a river," Jasper mumbled under his breath.

"Now, I'm afraid things will get harder for you, Jack," Mr. Murray said. "But you need to stay brave, and no matter what happens... don't be afraid."

Jasper cleared his throat. "I don't know about all this. Seems like ol' Jasper's always getting a bad rap, I must regrettably say." After a long, awkward pause, he added, "I suppose I'll just be returning to work, then."

The others watched and shook their heads as Jasper shuffled back inside of the factory, sweeping with his mahogany broom as he went. He whistled in an off-key tune as he departed, mumbling to himself. When he was gone, Mr. Murray spoke again.

"I have little doubt that Jasper is guilty of dastardly deeds. But there must be consequences for my negligence, as well. I won't simply hide behind him, and let him take all the blame. What kind of message would we be sending to the town – to our neighbors – if I did not pay the price for what I've allowed?" He waved a hand at Neil, Jack, Sara, and Maria. "What kind of a message would we be sending to our children?"

"Of course," Chief Fresco said, as he bowed his head sadly. It was a hard pill to swallow, but he knew that his lifelong friend was right. "Well. I suppose we better get you down to the station. Maybe start filling out some reports, eh?"

Mr. Murray smiled. He gave his son a hug, and then released him. "No. Get these Beans home, first. It's _way_ past their bedtimes."

"Say, that's a good point," Chief Fresco said. He looked down at the assembled children, and folded his arms across his chest. "You all still have _quite_ a bit of explaining to do, you know."

"What about Jasper?" Neil asked.

"Oh, I don't think I'll have much trouble finding him, when the time comes," Chief Fresco assured the Beans. "He tends to stand out in a crowd."

"You can come back to pick me up when you're done. Take your time. I won't be going anywhere," Mr. Murray said. He smiled sadly. "I'm ready to face the music."

### Chapter Thirty-Seven

### The Wind From My Sails

On the ride home, the police cruiser was painfully quiet. There was the sound of the powerful engine, purring smoothly, and the occasional crunch as the tires ran over a branch that had fallen into the road. Voices and static intermittently came from the police-band radio that was mounted to the dashboard.

Other than that, there was very little noise inside of the car, and zero conversation, despite the fact that it was full of people. Chief Fresco was behind the wheel, driving. Sara sat beside him, in the front of the car, with Nibbler sandwiched between the two of them. The other three Beans were crammed into the backseat. Jack sat in the middle, with Neil on his right, and Maria on his left.

Jack felt very strange. He felt exhausted, and yet, tingly with tension. His mind was muddled, and he felt as if he might be walking in a dream. It had been such a strange night, full of both wonders and disaster.

The heat was running in the car, but this did not change the fact that his shoes, his socks, and much of his clothes were soaked through. The excitement of the night's adventure had been more than enough to make him oblivious to these discomforts, but now he became painfully aware of them.

He was cold, and wet, and tired. And now, he realized with great sadness, he was also alone. Jack felt a knot forming in his throat, and he shivered.

And then, he felt Neil grasp his hand beside him. He looked to his friend, and smiled in gratitude. On his other side, Maria took his left hand, in a similar gesture of comfort.

Though still weighted with a terrible sadness, Jack suddenly felt much warmer. And not quite so alone. He saw Nibbler watching him in the rearview mirror, and he could hear the Labradoodle's tail thumping against the seat as he attempted to wag it in the tight quarters. He gave Jack his best doggy smile, as if to assure him that things would be okay.

Chief Fresco (who looked rather absurd, driving his police cruiser around in his slippers and pajamas in the middle of the night) was just as quiet as the children. He seemed lost in thought, his eyes staring straight at the road ahead. He drove with one hand on the steering wheel, while the other absentmindedly rubbed at his square jaw.

He was surely reflecting upon these unprecedented events that had occurred. It must have come as a terrible shock to him, considering how long he and Mr. Murray had been friends for.

"Chief?" asked Jack from the backseat.

"Mmm?" Chief Fresco answered. He shook his head sharply, to clear it. Nibbler sneezed into his ear, as if to help the chief focus. "Yes, Jack?"

"I was wondering... what's it feel like? All this, I mean."

Chief Fresco briefly met his eyes in the rearview mirror. "What's it feel like?" He considered this for a moment. "I guess... it feels like the wind's been taken from my sails."

"Yes," Jack agreed quietly. He felt Neil and Maria squeeze his hands. "I know what that's like."

He turned his head to the side, and looked out the window, watching the forest as the car passed through the winding, rural roads of Hollow Oak. Trees swayed in the night breeze, and leaves were stripped from the branches, dancing about in the air. He glanced up, above the tops of the oaks and maples, and he thought that he saw the dark silhouette of a falcon pass across the bright circle of the moon.

When Jack looked back at the forest, he saw a pair of bright, green orbs, deep within the brush, far back from the edge of the road. They looked like eyes, but he only saw them for the briefest of moments, and he knew that perhaps it was only his exhausted mind, playing tricks on him.

As he watched the woods pass outside the car window, listening to the quiet noises of the engine and the breathing of his friends, Jack thought of his father, and what might become of him. _Don't be afraid_ , he had said to Jack.

He felt the hands of his friends in his own. And he decided that he would try his best to do what his father had asked of him.

### Chapter Thirty-Eight

### Back to Center

Neil was patrolling the outfield once more. He had been nervously pacing about centerfield, kicking at the turf with his cleats. It had been a tumultuous few days, that was for sure, and it was difficult for him to relax entirely... even here, in centerfield, the place where he usually felt most at peace.

Finally, he stopped in dead center, adjusting the hat on his head, and letting out a long, tired sigh. There was a slump to his shoulders that he had never before known, a weight that he had never before carried. As if to relieve this invisible weight, he bent his back somewhat, and leaned over, resting both of his hands (one gloved, and one bare) on his knees.

He looked down at the grass, lost in reflection. Once more, he was alone with his thoughts. Alone in the outfield.

Inevitably, his eyes fell upon his shoes, and this made him feel sad. Those shoes... those beautiful, awesome, incredible shoes. They were the source of all this heartache, all this sorrow. It was the cleats project at the sneaker factory that had caused this travesty.

No, Neil acknowledged, as he reflected further. He knew better than to think such a thing. To blame these hardships on an inanimate object was the lazy way out, to point the finger at an easy scapegoat. The truth was far more difficult.

Mr. Murray was a good person, but he had made a terrible mistake. This did not make him evil, but it did make him responsible for the consequences of his actions. He had bent to the pressures of the world and adulthood, and taken a shortcut. He had allowed Jasper to pollute the river, and the swamp, and he had allowed harm to come to those who lived in the wild. He had not done so out of malice, but because he had not known how else to solve his crisis... and he had forgotten that he could depend upon his friends.

Neil thought of these things, as he looked down at his shoes, his hands resting on his knees. Although the cleats were a terrible reminder of what had transpired, the Green Beans continued to wear them. They really had no choice in the matter... for the players had all thrown their old shoes away, once they had received the new ones.

Coach had vowed to halt all production of the cleats until the problems were sorted out. He remained confident that the new project would be a successful venture for the sneaker factory, but he pledged that it would not resume until they could guarantee a promise of commitment to the environment.

And if the factory went bankrupt, while production was halted, and they were desperately trying to balance the books and increase the profit margins? Well, that would be okay, Coach said. He didn't think it would come to that, but if it did, then so be it. Coach would much rather see his sneaker factory closed, than watch harm come to the town he had loved for his entire life.

True, there were a lot of people in Hollow Oak who depended on the jobs that the sneaker factory created. If it were to close, then it would mean financial hardship for many of the town's residents. And nobody depended on the factory more so than Neil's family, for they had invested everything they had into it.

There were the economic factors to consider, and there were also the needs of the environment. But Coach was confident that it did not have to be _only one or the other_. He was sure they could satisfy both needs, if the community united in its goals, and worked hard to achieve them.

It was true that there was money on the line... grownups became very concerned about financial issues, many of which Neil heard them speak of, but did not entirely understand. Things like _mortgages_ , and _insurance premiums_ , and _property taxes_.

Everybody needed money. But what good would the money do... if they destroyed the world they lived within?

As Neil considered these things, he was interrupted from his thoughts when he saw a sleek shadow dart across the grass at his feet, quickly passing before his field of vision. He stood straight, and tilted his head to the sky. There, far above, a beautiful bird circled on the currents of wind. Even at the great distance, Neil recognized the creature at once.

" _Arturo_ ," he whispered.

### Chapter Thirty-Nine

### I Got Your Back

The falcon loosed a striking call, as he continued to circle above. Arturo's wings were locked at full extension for the most part, as he glided on the currents of the sky. Occasionally, he would flap his powerful wings to gain altitude, before returning to his easy coast.

As Neil watched, something attracted his eyes, slowly drifting closer to his position, floating through the air. It was nearly invisible in the approaching twilight. He reflexively reached out with his glove, and the small item was ensnared within.

Slowly opening his glove, Neil saw that it was empty. Had he imagined the falling object, he wondered? No, he realized upon further inspection. There, almost hidden in the heel of the glove, there rested a blue-gray feather, shimmering with a unique iridescence.

Neil smiled up at Arturo, and plucked the feather from his glove with his bare hand. He held it before his eyes, enjoying its color and vibrancy, and then tucked it into the side of his hat. " _Thanks_ ," he murmured.

And then, there came another noise, one that had clearly not been generated by the falcon. It was a sound that caused Neil's heart to leap in his chest. Would you care to guess what that noise was, my astute reader?

Yes, you most surely know what it was. For just as Neil had heard it before, so too, have you.

_Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_.

The past few days had been so overwhelming and exhausting, Neil had actually begun to question some of the things that had occurred. Sure, his friends had discussed their encounter with the swamp beast, but still... it seemed such a strange thing to have happened. Was it all a dream, he had wondered? Had it been a sort of collective hallucination, caused from fatigue, and staying up for far too long past their bedtimes?

None of the Beans could find the feathers that Titus had given to them as a gift of friendship. It seemed that the only physical evidence they had of their encounter with the swamp beast had been lost, most likely when they had been lying in the brush and the water, hiding from Jasper.

_Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_.

Glancing toward home plate, Neil saw the batter digging into the box, and Sara winding up for the pitch. There was a game on, but this was too important to ignore. Neil sprinted back to the outfield fence and leaned over it, peering into the thick woods beyond.

The sound of heavy brush being pushed aside came again, and Neil trained his eyes on that location. Between the trees and the foliage, he saw a pair of green eyes blinking in the shadows. And just barely, he could make out the outline of an enormous silhouette.

" _Titus!_ " Neil gasped.

He felt the urge to shout, but restrained himself at the last moment, for fear of drawing the attention of the other two outfielders, who were currently locked onto the action between pitcher and batter.

" _Yes, little one_ ," the swamp beast said quietly. Although he was practically whispering, his voice was still filled with a resonating bass that made the hairs on Neil's arms stand up. " _I am here. You were beginning to doubt my existence, weren't you? But you are not an adult, so you could not so easily forget what you saw. You could not so easily forget... me._ "

"I was beginning to wonder..." Neil admitted. "It's all been so strange. But I think you're right... in the end, I knew what I had seen and heard. And my friends were there with me. We believe in you, Titus."

The swamp beast sighed, and Neil felt his warm, mossy breath wash over him. " _It is good... to not be forgotten. I do appreciate that. And how are you holding up, little one?_ "

Neil paused before answering, biting his lip in hesitation. It was a difficult question. Finally, he said, "It's hard. You know?"

" _Yes. I know, little one. You have all been through a tremendous challenge, and your hardships are not yet over. But rest assured, you made the right choice. It was the difficult choice, but also the moral one. You had the opportunity to turn a blind eye to the harm inflicted upon the forest and the creatures that live within it, and to forget my request for help. But your hearts were true, your courage unwavering. You faced great adversity, and you prevailed. The forest thanks you for that, little one. And so, too, do I._ "

"You're welcome, Titus," Neil said. He glanced over his shoulder once more, looking back toward the infield. So far, nobody had noticed that he had drifted all the way back to the fence. "I know we did the right thing. But it's still so hard... Do things get any better, you think?"

" _Yes... I believe they will, if you hold true to your virtues, and you remember to treasure the gift of friendship with those you hold dear. Your friend will need your support, now more than ever. You must help him to remember that he is not alone. And you must remember it yourself, too_. _You were there for me, and for the forest. So we shall be here for you, when you find yourself in need of our aid_."

Neil smiled. "Thanks, Titus."

" _You are right, little one... it is hard. But remember... you are not alone_."

_Ting!_ Neil heard a bat smack the ball, far behind him. He quickly turned from the fence, and back toward the action, where his attention was supposed to be focused. His head was already tilting back, seeking out the baseball. He spotted it, high in the air, arcing toward the outfield.

And though it pained him to leave Titus behind, for fear that he might have trouble finding him once more (or worse yet, never see him again), he sprinted away, chasing down the ball. It was, after all, what he did best.

" _Go on, little one_."

And then, as Neil was running across the grass of the outfield, he heard one more thing from his newest friend, the swamp beast of Hollow Oak.

" _I got your back_."

### Chapter Forty

### My Heart Is Heavy

It was the bottom of the final inning, and Jack was at the plate. He stood in the batter's box, trying his best to focus on the task at hand, but it seemed a lost cause.

He was having a terrible game. He was 0-3 (pronounced _Oh-For-Three_ ), meaning he had no hits in three at-bats. Furthermore, he had committed two big errors in the field, which had cost his team dearly. As if he didn't already have enough to feel bad about.

Jack was having a great deal of difficulty focusing on baseball, for his mind was elsewhere. He didn't understand why Coach wouldn't pull him from the game and sit him on the bench. It seemed clear to Jack that he was a detriment to his own team. He was only hurting them. Why wouldn't Coach take him out?

Not only was he having a terrible game, but a terrible day as well. In fact, he had been having a _series_ of rather bad days, ever since he and his friends had embarked on their nighttime adventure, and the discoveries they had made as a consequence.

Given what he had been put through, was it any wonder that he could not concentrate?

Without the slightest hint that such a thing might be in the future, Jack had found himself on his own. He was without a family, and without a home. For the past few days, he had been staying at Neil's house. This, as he had been told, was a temporary solution, until the state could figure out what to do with him.

Neil's family had made it clear that Jack should stay with them for as long as he needed a place to live. But there were other forces at work, which Jack did not entirely understand. There had been visitors to the Bandernath house... strange men dressed in uncomfortable-looking clothes, carrying briefcases, and forms, and clipboards.

Coach called these men _bureaucrats_ and _pencil_ - _pushers_ , and occasionally referred to them as _empty suits_. None of these terms were particularly flattering, and as far as Jack could tell, they were paid to make simple matters complicated.

Consequently, the future for Jack was uncertain. And undoubtedly bleak.

To make matters infinitely worse, he had become the talk of the town. School was unbearable. The other students pointed and gawked at him, whispering loudly of his father, who they called a _criminal_ , among other unpleasant things. Some of the schoolchildren were even bolder about it, like the Cragglemeister Brothers, who had taken it upon themselves to ridicule Jack at every available opportunity... of which they seemed to find many.

Although their own father, Jasper, was also under investigation for his role in the scandal, he had thus far escaped any serious repercussions for his deeds. Much to the surprise of the town, Jasper had produced a remarkably capable (and expensive) team of lawyers to rise to his defense. As to how the janitor had been able to manage such a feat, the answer remained unknown. It appeared that Jasper had a few secrets of his own, and a few tricks that remained, as of yet, hidden up his sleeve.

It seemed terribly unfair to Jack. His own father had received the full brunt of the fallout, but Jasper remained untouched, even though he had been the one who had actually dumped the barrels of waste into the river.

Trying his best to smother these thoughts, Jack dug his spikes into the batter's box. But this did nothing to make him feel better, for such an action instantly returned his attention to the cleats themselves, which were a painful reminder of all that had occurred.

Jack felt his eyes growing wet, and he rapidly blinked his eyelids to clear them. He did not want a tear to escape, not with everybody staring at him. And not with the boy who now faced him on the pitcher's mound. He turned every ounce of effort toward suppressing the building tears, and fighting the knot that was growing in his throat.

The opposing pitcher glared from the mound. It was Jack's arch-nemesis, and the leader of the rival Summer Squashes... Jebediah Cragglemeister.

The tall, powerful hayseed sneered at Jack, while silently mouthing insults. Jebediah knew that Jack was particularly bad off at the moment, and he was relishing the opportunity to kick him while he was down.

The Green Beans were trailing the Summer Squashes by a large margin. It seemed hopeless that the Beans would close the gap in this, the sixth and final inning. Jebediah might not have been terribly bright, but he was a great baseball player. On the mound, he dominated with his powerful arm. His control was not quite as refined as Sara's, but he had no shortage of raw power, slinging the baseball at velocities that were seldom seen in the league.

He had been pitching a beauty of a game this evening. The Beans, already disheartened by the loss of their assistant coach and the general poor turn of events that had transpired lately, had been dominated from the start. They had been playing _flat_ , as Coach called it, with little spark or energy.

Nonetheless, they had managed to get a little something going during this final inning. Trailing by eight runs, it still seemed quite unlikely that they would be able to pull out a win, but at least they were putting up a fight. Maria had drawn a walk, and had advanced to second on a bloop single by Neil. Sara had moved both runners one base further with a grounder that had scooted up the middle of the infield.

Now, there were runners at first, second, and third... the bases were loaded, with two outs. Though Jack could not tie the game, even if he hit a grand slam, he could at least make the contest a little more respectable.

It seemed inconceivable that the Beans could win the game, trailing by eight, with two outs in the final inning. But they could still put a couple more runs on the board, and give their rivals a little less to gloat about. And maybe, just _maybe_... they could wipe a little bit of that smirk off of Jebediah's face.

One might think that this would make things easier on Jack. But it did not. The pressure just made it worse.

_I can't do this_ , Jack thought. His aluminum bat, Excalibur, trembled in his hands. It now seemed ridiculous to him that he would have named his bat after the legendary sword of King Arthur. He was no knight, and certainly not a king. He was just an average ten-year-old.

It was impossible to believe that life had been so enjoyable only a few short days ago. Every day had been a dream come true, filled with friends and fun. But now... _Now_ , Jack thought... _all is lost_.

Furiously blinking his eyes, Jack's attention was drawn to second base, directly beyond the pitcher's mound. There, standing atop the bag, Neil was clapping his hands with great vigor, and calling Jack's name.

"Come on, Jack!" he called. "You have this."

Jack blinked his eyes.

Neil briefly tapped his fist against his chest. And though what he next said was quiet, Jack could read his lips just fine. " _I got your back_."

Jack could not help but smile at his friend's enthusiasm. _Okay_ , he thought, with a slow and shaky breath. _Let's see if we can get things going_.

### Chapter Forty-One

### You Are Not Alone

Sneering, Jebediah glared at Jack. He continued to rotate the baseball with his free hand, inside of his glove. The powerful muscles of his forearm twisted and rippled beneath the surface of the skin.

He stared daggers at Jack, trying to get inside of his head. With a grand flourish, he spat a huge wad of red bubblegum from his mouth, where it collided with the turf and bounced once, twice, and then lay still among the blades of grass.

Time seemed to slow for Jack. He saw Jebediah's face contort with effort, as he went into his pitching windup. His brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed to slits. His tongue protruded from his clenched teeth, and his arm began to come forward, the ball clenched tightly within the hand that held it.

For the briefest of moments, Jack's blurred vision cleared. And in that slim window, when time seemed to slow, he saw the ball approaching. He could see it spinning as it came, the red stitches turning. And as that off-white sphere, mottled with dirt and grass stains, closed in on the catcher's mitt, Jack swung the bat.

He brought forth Excalibur, his breath caught within his chest, his eyes locked on the ball. And then, as if by miracle, he felt an impact traveling the length of the bat, into his hands and vibrating within his arms. He had hit the ball!

Jack dropped his bat, and began running toward first base. But it was with a great amount of dismay that he saw his hit was a sad one, indeed. It was but a weak grounder to shortstop, and would certainly mean the end of the game.

The fielder need only toss the ball to second or third base, to secure the final out. There would be no miracles, it appeared. Life was harsh, and the world unforgiving.

But something... something rather _remarkable_ began to happen, right before Jack's eyes. Although the ball was poorly struck, and should have been an easy out, he saw something that lifted his spirit.

With their heads tucked down, and their heels dug in, the base-runners were _moving_. Clods of dirt were kicked up from the base-paths, thrown by the spikes of their controversial cleats. They sprinted, as if their lives depended on it. They sprinted, as if this game was not a blowout, but a close affair.

Each of them gave their all. They gave everything they had for Jack, for their friend.

Maria slid into home. The run scored was a small dent in the lead that the Summer Squashes held, but it was a victory nonetheless. Neil dove headfirst into third base, wrapping both of his arms around the bag, as if a drowning man clutching at a life preserver. And Sara slid into second, beating the throw from the shortstop by the narrowest of margins.

Turning his head to watch as he went, Jack had run through first base. The umpire waved his arms to signal that Sara was safe, and the crowd erupted in cheers. From the dugout, Nibbler barked in encouragement, his tail wagging with great aplomb, his furry face stretched into a canine smile. Coach was standing, clapping his hands, hooting and hollering with all the Green Beans who were in the dugout.

Panting, his chest heaving with breath, Jack slowly returned to first base. As he did so, he looked about the infield, to his friends, who were covered in dirt and dust, returning to their feet.

During the moment of commotion, when there was much applause and hullabaloo, he took the opportunity to wipe a hand across his eyes. A tear or two had escaped, but it was not from the despair that he had been carrying these past few days. It was from a feeling of gratitude... of indefinable happiness. Joy, from the realization that his friends were there for him.

It should have been a routine out. But it was not. His friends had refused to give up on him. They had put forth an effort that defied the very physical limits of their bodies, and of their abilities. They had given their all, for him.

_I am not alone_ , Jack realized. And then, after a moment, a rather remarkable thought struck him, considering how glum he had been these past few days: _And_ _we will be okay_.

Jebediah kicked at the mound in disgust, before resuming his place atop the rubber, to face the next batter. It remained extremely unlikely that the Beans would be victorious, though they now trailed only by seven runs, as opposed to eight.

But the outcome of the game now seemed irrelevant. Win or lose, it would be okay. Jack already felt that he had won. Games such as this were but a brief moment in time. Friendship, however... friendship was something far more lasting. And he had the best friends that a ten-year-old could ask for.

Now he understood why Coach wouldn't pull him from the game. In the face of such terrible adversity, they could not lie down in surrender. To do so would accomplish nothing.

Jack remembered, with a suddenness that was akin to the flipping of a light switch... baseball was _fun_. It was _fun!_ They were a bunch of ten and eleven-year-olds. There should have been no pressure associated with the game. There should have been nothing other than excitement and joy.

He felt something building within his throat once again, but it was not the pressure of impending tears. It was the bubbling of laughter, and he heard himself begin to giggle. It was a welcome sensation, and a delightful sound.

He placed his hands atop his knees, and leaned over. There was a lightness to his breath, an excitement to his body. His joints felt airy, and his skin was tingly. It was a feeling that was at once new and familiar. It was the exhilaration of taking part in that which brought him happiness.

And when you are feeling down... when you are feeling sad... when you feel that you have not a friend on earth, and the weight of the world has become too heavy for you to bear... look to the forest, my astute reader. Consider all the marvels that remain in this world for you to witness.

And remember... _You are not alone_.

###

Thank you for reading _The Green Beans, Volume One: The Mystery of Hollow Oak_. Below, you will find the first five chapters of _The Green Beans, Volume Two: The Strange Genius of Lefty O'Houlihan_. If you wish to download this second volume in its entirety, it is available, free of charge, at Smashwords and most major book retailers. For more adventures with the Beans, please visit the author at GabrielGadget.com.

### THINGS GET SCIENTIFIC

Two weeks have passed since the Green Beans solved the mystery of Hollow Oak, making remarkable discoveries in the process. In the wake of their findings, Jack has been placed within the huge, eerie manor of his new guardian – an eccentric uncle, known as Lefty O'Houlihan.

Before long, Jack comes to suspect that something strange is afoot in his new home. Weird noises, curious sights, and his uncle's odd behavior have led Jack to believe that all is not well at Lefty's Manor.

Seeking help, Jack finds that his friends are more than ready for adventure and investigation. Neil, Sara, and Maria gladly answer the call, along with Nibbler, the faithful Labradoodle.

From the rumors that the Green Beans have been able to gather, it seems that Lefty may have once been a brilliant scientist... until his 'strange genius' spiraled out of control, forcing him to part ways with his former employers. Now, the Green Beans are determined to uncover the truth behind Lefty's current scientific project... and what it may mean for the future of Hollow Oak.

### THE GREEN BEANS

### VOLUME TWO

### THE STRANGE GENIUS

### OF LEFTY O'HOULIHAN

### GABRIEL GADGET

### Chapter One

### You Can Lean on Nibbler

His breath held within his lungs, and his ear pressed against the door to the basement, Jack listened closely. For a moment, there was nothing. Nothing in the stretching silence, but for the thudding of his own heart, echoing in his ears.

Upon further contemplation, he could also hear the tick of the odd, ancient grandfather clock, which stood in the nearby parlor. Its elegant hands, piano black in color, slowly revolved, marking the passage of time as midnight drew closer. The clock was a strange relic, in a house of similarly weird objects and items.

Had he imagined it, Jack wondered? Had it all been inside of his head? His lungs burned from holding his breath, and his skin felt clammy, cool, and peppered with goose bumps.

His dog, Nibbler, stood beside him, braced and ready to leap into action. The big, furry Labradoodle waited in equal stillness, his head tilted up at Jack in a quizzical fashion.

" _Ah-roo?_ " the dog inquired softly.

" _Shh, boy_ ," Jack whispered to Nibbler, with a finger pressed against his lips.

As if sensing the gravity of the matter, and understanding that stealth was in order, Nibbler said no more. He leaned closer, carefully easing his weight, so as to not let his claws click upon the floors, which were built from durable lengths of maple wood. He pressed his own furry ear against the basement door, and his glistening, black nose quivered about in concentration. Together, the boy and dog listened.

As the silence continued, Jack eventually began to give up on the notion that there were strange goings-on occurring in the cellar. He slowly eased away from the basement door, and once more began to draw in regular breaths.

But then, just as he began to retreat from the door, the sound came again.

Thoom!

Jack's heart lurched within his chest, and his breath staggered. Caught by surprise, he briefly stumbled as he stepped away from the basement door, but Nibbler leaned against him. Jack steadied himself by placing a hand on the dog's sturdy back. Having regained his balance, Jack once more pressed his ear against the door.

Yes! There it was!

Thoom!...Thoom!...Thoom!

Jack felt the flesh upon his forearms and the nape of his neck crawling, once more alive with goose bumps. Every now and again, the strange noise could be heard from the other side of the door, down in the basement. Each time it sounded, Jack's heart seemed to leap into his throat.

Thoom!...Thoom!...Thoom!

Whatever it was that was causing such a ruckus down there, it was something of raw, savage _power_. Jack could not even begin to guess what it might be.

Now, at this close proximity to the door, he realized that there was another sound drifting from the basement. It was some kind of funky music, like nothing he had ever heard before. It was playing at a somewhat subdued volume... but it was still loud enough for Jack to hear, even at the top of the stairs, on the other side of the closed door.

And then, when it seemed that things could not possibly get any weirder, another sound joined it... that of laughter from the basement. A more precise definition of the laughter might have been... _cackling_. It was more than enough to generate hair-raising results.

Forcing himself to focus on the moment (a skill he had learned playing baseball), Jack took a few slow breaths. He pressed two fingers against his wrist, and was not surprised to feel that his pulse was racing.

But this was okay. In fact, this matter was relatively _mild_ (strange as it might seem), compared to his recent experiences in what could only be called _extreme weirdness_. Once, there had been room (however small) in his life for things like fear. But there was room for such, no more. He had, after all, faced some of the worst that life could throw at him, and he was still standing.

In the town of Hollow Oak, Jack had recently become a celebrity of sorts... but his was a reputation that nobody would willingly seek. With his father jailed for crimes against the town, he had become an object of pity, and at times... contempt.

The only family that Jack knew had been taken from him, without warning or preamble. But what made the matter far worse was the fact that he had been ridiculed beyond endurance, by those who sensed a weakened prey, and were eager to strike. The worst offenders were the surly Cragglemeisters, who seemed to harbor an unrelenting vendetta against him.

Fortunately, Jack had the support of his friends. They had remained beside him, when others were glad to turn their backs. They were there for him... Neil, and Sara, and Maria... his very best friends. And there was, of course, the undying loyalty of Nibbler, who was a cold-snouted, floppy-eared, and thoroughly fur-covered friend like none other.

With such recent, trying experiences in tow, there was no fear to be gleaned from Jack. He had always possessed an aptitude for adventure, and his recent trials had only made him more resilient.

He had suspected strangeness abounding in this old, weird house, ever since he had come to live with the man known as Lefty O'Houlihan... a person who Jack had only recently learned was his uncle. Apparently, his father had not stayed in touch with Uncle Lefty, because Jack had never even heard his name mentioned before.

When Jack's father had gone to prison, employees of the state had gotten involved. They were searching for a home to place him in, but finding relatives had been a difficult task. As far as Jack knew, his father was his only family (other than Nibbler, but for obvious reasons, the Labradoodle was not a suitable caretaker).

After several days of researching, however, the state workers had discovered that Jack did indeed have _one_ relative... the mysterious and eccentric Lefty O'Houlihan.

### Chapter Two

### Not Your Ordinary Basement

Jack had soon come to learn that Uncle Lefty was a man of a rather _odd_ reputation within the town of Hollow Oak. He was known as an outsider, a recluse, and a man of what might perhaps be called _strange genius_.

It was rumored that he had once been a scientist for the federal government, lauded for his brilliance and revolutionary concepts. Far more alarming were the further rumors that he had been released from his employment with the government... following a breakdown that was a consequence of his strange genius, spiraling out of control.

None of this could be confirmed, however. There had been a great deal of secrecy not only concerning his research with the government, but also the terms by which his employment had been severed.

What _could_ be confirmed was that Lefty O'Houlihan had managed to accrue a vast amount of money during his earlier years, whatever he might have been up to. It was rumored that he was an inventor, and that his royalties from patents he held for his various creations kept his bank accounts full. Not only did he now enjoy a life free of regular employment, but he had also purchased the vast, weird estate that he now resided in, at the outskirts of town.

It was a history (as you might imagine, my astute reader) that inspired very little in the way of Jack's confidence in Lefty. After all... when odd men from the state placed a ten-year-old with a previously unknown uncle who was rumored to have lost his job with the government, when his "strange genius began spiraling out of control"... it stands to reason that the available options were pretty darned slim. Jack realized that there might have been a very good reason why his father had never spoken of Lefty... it was entirely possible that the man was bonkers.

Jack, however, had done his best to embrace the change. It was exciting to learn that there was a relative that he had previously never known of (although Uncle Lefty had proven to be rather aloof and distracted). Jack was always up for adventure, and his new home was a place that seemed ripe for exploration.

The residence of Lefty was a huge, weird house, built hundreds of years ago at the edge of Hollow Oak, and it had been further expanded upon several times. At this point, it was a sprawling property, perhaps even reaching the status of a _mansion_.

It was filled with countless rooms and fireplaces, and Jack suspected that there were most likely hidden passageways located somewhere in the house. This conclusion only stood to reason, based on all the oddities that he had thus far witnessed, in the short span of a week at "Lefty's Manor" (as he had come to call it). He had seen much weirdness, and he had heard things within the walls that he could not explain or identify.

Needless to say, he had not been sleeping particularly well in this new environment, and his teacher, Ms. Waffler, had found it necessary to wake him from time to time when he dozed off at his desk. She took it easy on Jack, however, for she seemed to be sympathetic to the fact that he had been having a rough go of it lately.

The bedroom he had been staying in at Lefty's Manor was located on the second floor, and it was so big, it was as spacious as some small homes. It had its own fireplace, enormous bookcases that were filled with dusty tomes, and even a towering suit of armor. Although this all looked undoubtedly awesome by the hours of daylight, it made for less than ideal sleeping arrangements.

At night, Jack would lie awake, with the covers pulled up to his chin, and listen to the many creaks and groans of the old house. He knew that it was just the ancient wood of the residence, moving about and settling, as it was prone to do in elderly homes. But still... it was eerie.

Additionally, the whistling wind rattled the panes of the old windows. Leaves and branches would scrape against the glass, and this at times sounded like the slow drag of long fingernails, seeking a point of weakness that could be exploited.

The light of the moon would cause these swaying branches to generate dancing shadows throughout the bedroom. The suit of armor, meanwhile, cast its own, rather dubious silhouette, as it loomed in the corner. Jack would listen to these noises, and eyeball these shadows, as he lay beneath the covers, fruitlessly counting sheep. He was not afraid, of course... but it was a bit hard to sleep with such an abundance of eeriness.

Nibbler would lie atop the bedspread, his ears twitching at every sound, his snout turning toward every strange shadow. His furry tail would thump reassuringly against Jack from time to time, and his company was as welcome as ever.

Earlier tonight, Jack and Nibbler had been hoping for sleep as they lay in bed, listening to the wind whistle through the old, drafty windows. And then, there had come the other noise... the strange and startling sound that had prompted them to rise from bed, their curiosity engaged.

Thoom!...Thoom!...Thoom!

And so it was that Jack, dressed in pajamas, had eased from bed with a flashlight in his hand, and Nibbler by his side. Tracing the source of the noise, they had tiptoed down the creaking staircase, journeyed through several winding hallways, crossed the gargantuan kitchen, eased across the parlor, and finally found themselves at their current location: the door that led to the basement.

It was one of the few places that Jack had not yet explored within the manor. Lefty had not exactly _forbidden_ him from entering it, but it had seemed to Jack to be a personal area for his uncle. Lefty spent the vast majority of his time in the basement, where he could be heard tinkering about and muttering to himself. For this was no ordinary basement... it was a basement _laboratory_.

Slowly... cautiously... _ever_ so carefully... Jack moved his hand to the doorknob. Were he still prone to the occasional bouts of fear that any ten-year-old boy was sure to feel from time to time, he undoubtedly would have refrained from such bold action. But he was _not_ just any ten-year-old boy. He was possessed of experience (particularly in the realms of weirdness) that defied his young age.

As his fingers wrapped around the doorknob, there passed from the metal to his skin a feeling that was difficult to describe. It was an electric shock! A blue-white wisp of electric current arced through the air, clearly visible in the dim lighting of the hallway.

As the mild jolt passed into his body, Jack's eyes came to resemble saucers, and a hushed utterance passed between his lips. " _Gears and sprockets!_ " he exclaimed.

Nibbler leaped back, eyeing the doorknob with renewed suspicion. After a moment, his tail started wagging, and he licked Jack's shocked fingers.

" _Woo_ ," Jack gasped, as he flexed his hand, and the fingers were doused with dog slobber. "That was an _electrifying_ experience, as Coach might say."

He shook his hand once more, and then bolted for the nearest door to the outside, with his dog at his heel. "Come on, Nibbler... Neil's going to want to know all about this, isn't he?"

### Chapter Three

### Bedtime Can't Stop Me

As he lay in the dreaming stages of sleep, enshrouded in a warm nest of blankets and pillows, Neil murmured to himself. He murmured in quiet contentment, having achieved that singular happiness that occurs when one has put in a hard day, and has lain down to their well earned prize – a night of sound sleep, to refresh and rejuvenate.

And Neil had indeed put in a hard day, which was the norm for him. It had consisted of school, baseball practice, dinner with the family, homework, and (last, but not least) a couple of rounds of online Virtual Baseball with his friends.

Neil's pupils moved slightly against the closed lids of his eyes. " _Hem-nem-nem_ ," he muttered to himself, smacking his lips with slumber-filled contentment. " _Hem-nem-nem_."

It was a magnificent feeling, to drop into sleep in the comfort of one's own bed. But as Neil descended into that land of dreams and nocturnal machinations of the mind, there came a mild disturbance that troubled his slumber.

_Rap_ , so it sounded, against the walls of his mind. _Rap... rap... rap!_

Slowly, blinking and rubbing at his eyes, Neil rose from his pillow. A gargantuan yawn was loosed from his mouth, and he murmured in the confusion that often accompanies an arousal from sleep.

He looked about, searching for whatsoever had taken him from his slumber. For the most part, his bedroom remained in darkness, but for the streaks of moonlight that penetrated the window, casting a slight, orange-yellow illumination upon the walls and floor.

Rap!

The sound came again. Shaking his head from side to side, Neil looked to the source of the noise. It came from his bedroom window – a sharp, clear sound against the stillness of the night.

Rubbing his fists against his eyes, Neil pulled himself from his bed, still half-asleep. He briefly became entangled in his sheets, but was able to break free from them after stumbling about for a bit. Neil's feet remained unresponsive to mental inputs for the time being, and he staggered across his bedroom until he reached the window.

It was then, while his face was only inches from the clear pane of glass, that the sharp sound issued once more. _Rap!_

Flinching, Neil lurched backward, away from the window. Gradually, his mind was clearing from the cobwebs of sleep, and he slowly came to comprehend that the noise he had heard was in fact a small stone, colliding against the glass.

"What the...?" he murmured, as he unlocked the window and opened it up. He stuck his sleep-befuddled head outside and hollered, "Hey, whaddya doin' to my window? Who's out there? Is it the Cragglemeisters? You trying to bust up my window or somethin'?"

" _Shhhhhh!_ " he heard a hushed voice call from below. " _Neil, keep it down!_ "

"You tryin' to break up my glass?" Neil shouted out the window, still confused and bewildered, from being roused from a sound sleep.

" _Neil, it's me!_ " came the hushed voice. " _Keep it down! You're going to wake up your parents!_ "

Rubbing his fisted hands against his eyes once again, Neil looked toward the voice that had spoken to him. Finally, his eyes locked upon Jack, and the happy (exhilarated would probably be more accurate) Labradoodle that stood beneath, one story below Neil's window.

"Oh, hey, Jack!" Neil called, as he ran a hand through his mussed, sandy hair, and loosed a wide yawn. "Nibbler, what's shaking?"

" _Woof!_ " Nibbler answered, his tail wagging in unrestrained happiness. It made his wiggly rump shake from side to side. " _Woof!_ "

Jack placed a calming hand on the dog's back, and patted him reassuringly. " _Okay, boy, let's keep it down_." He turned his attention to the window. " _Neil, would you try to lower your voice a bit? Aren't your parents sleeping?_ "

Neil yawned, and blinked fuzzily at his visitors, as if just seeing them now. "Whoa! Hey, Jack! Thought I might be dreaming."

" _Shhhhh!_ " Jack whispered, with a finger pressed against his lips. " _What are ya, nuts? Aren't your parents asleep?_ "

"Oh, yeah," Neil said, lowering his voice. "Good point. Well... I'm not used to being roused from my sleep in the middle of the night, you know? I don't quite feel like myself at the moment... I'm sort of groggy." He paused, and peered up at the moon. "Hey, what time is it, anyway? What's going on around here?"

"Well, it's just shy of midnight, since you ask," Jack told him. "And believe me, I wouldn't have woken you up, if it wasn't _super_ important."

"What are you, kidding me?" Neil asked. "You know you can stop by any time, I don't mind. I _live_ for adventure," he added, as he stifled a yawn. "Heck, the last time we were up at this time of night, we came face to face with a swamp beast, I don't have to remind you."

"Nope. I remember that _very_ clearly," Jack assured him. "That was one weird night."

Neil shook his head from side to side, to dispel the cobwebs of sleep, and he was becoming more alert by the moment. The prospect of adventure was a powerful incentive, plenty strong enough to bring a ten-year-old boy to his senses at a time when he should have been fast asleep.

"What's going on?" Neil asked. "Is there trouble afoot? Are the Cragglemeisters involved in foul play? Give me two shakes, and I'll be ready to go!"

" _Egads, Neil, keep it down!_ " Jack whispered. "No, there's no sign of the Cragglemeister Brothers. It's my uncle... Lefty. Something weird is going on at the manor. Well... weirder than usual, is what I mean to say. Something downright _crazy!_ "

"Say no more," Neil assured Jack. He had already drawn away from the window, and had begun throwing on what he might deem some "adventuring" clothes, which was a somewhat stark contrast to Jack's pajamas, slippers, and bicycle helmet. "I'm on my way."

He returned to the window, with only one shoe in place, and the other in hand. Neil launched himself into the maple tree that hugged the house, monkeying down it in short order.

His course was perhaps not the wisest one, in terms of logic and practicality. But it was one that held a great deal of credibility in the world of middle-graders... It was that of faith and friendship.

Neil landed upon the ground and hustled over to his friend, putting his second shoe on as he went. Nibbler greeted him with a wet snout, and Jack met him with a subdued (in an effort to reduce noise) high-five.

Jack grinned at the reassuring touch of immovable friendship. It was a thing that he had become quite familiar with in recent days, as the hardships had piled on, and then resiliently been shaken off.

"Okay, I'm ready," Neil chortled. "Nothing so trivial as bedtime can stop me!"

### Chapter Four

### Put on Guard

Neil and Jack rode their bicycles to Lefty's Manor, with Nibbler trotting beside them. They pedaled through the darkness on the rural roads of Hollow Oak, their beloved town.

The feel of the cool air against their faces was refreshing, and it helped to keep them alert at this late hour. Flashlights were mounted to the handlebars of their bicycles, and they cast wobbling beams of light upon the paved shoulder of the roads, as well as the trees and brush of the forest.

They met no cars on their journey, for it was a small town, and almost everyone was asleep at this hour. The night was nearly silent, but for the chirping of crickets, the hooting of owls, and the rustling of the leaves that swayed in the wind.

It did not take them very long to reach Lefty's Manor, and once they were near, they approached with caution. The boys stashed their bicycles in some bushes, and began sneaking closer to the manor on foot. They stayed in the woods that surrounded the property, hoping that the cover of the forest would let them proceed undetected.

For his part, Nibbler went into _Labradoodle_ _stealth mode_. He hunkered low to the ground, with his shoulder blades swaying, his ears perked up, and his nose sniffing with the utmost alacrity.

But as they crept into the forest, it soon became clear to the boys and dog that they were not alone. From deeper within the woods, there came a noise that they instantly recognized: _Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_.

It was the sound of heavy brush and vegetation being pushed aside. Pushed aside, by something _big_.

Neil and Jack froze in place. Their heads were turned toward the source of the noise, and their eyes had grown wide. Nibbler tentatively wagged his tail and quirked his ears.

" _Is that...?_ " Neil asked, his voice filled with hope.

" _Could it be...?_ " Jack wondered, as he peered into the darkened forest.

_Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_ , came the noise once more. It was now louder. Closer. They saw the treetops sway and ripple, as something with incredible force moved everything that stood before it. _Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_. _RUSTLE-RUSTLE-RUSH-CRUSH_.

With an enormous surge of motion, the final screen of brush was parted, and the creature that had been creating the noise was suddenly visible. He had a colossal silhouette, towering like a giant, and his green eyes glowed in an otherworldly fashion. His broad shoulders rose and fell as he heaved with deep breath, which washed over the boys and Nibbler with the scent of moss.

" _Titus!_ " Neil gasped.

" _Greetings, little ones_ ," came the rumbling voice of the monster before them, a being that was unique in every way.

He was, as Neil and Jack had recently discovered, _the swamp beast of Hollow Oak_. Titus stood at a height of _nine feet_ , and he was a fantastic sight to behold. Vines, moss, and foliage covered the mottled green skin of his body, lending him an undoubtedly botanical quality. His shoulders were broad, his legs thick, and his arms were the size of tree trunks, rippling with muscle. He had a neck that was like a tree stump, and vines swung about his head, as if dreadlocks of strange, green hair. Defined within his broad face were both strength and wisdom, accumulated during an untold number of years.

A peregrine falcon sat atop one shoulder of Titus, perched and ruffling his blue-gray wings. Neil and Jack instantly recognized the bird as Arturo, Titus' swift-winged agent of reconnaissance.

Titus dropped to one knee, so that he could more easily see Neil and Jack. They ran to him with excitement, for this was one monster that was not to be feared... this was their _friend_. A strange and magnificent friend, who they had met just a couple of weeks earlier. Titus had recruited them, to help him put a stop to the pollution of the water source for the creatures that were under his protection, in the town of Hollow Oak.

"What are you doing here?" asked Jack. "We were hoping to see you again soon, but this is a pleasant surprise!"

" _It is good that we should meet again_ ," Titus rumbled, as he embraced them in a gigantic hug, with Nibbler squeezed in the middle. " _Though it has not been long since we last saw one another, I have missed you_. _I am so grateful for the efforts you put forth for me, and for the creatures of the woodlands and the swamps. Already, the quality of our water has improved, since you helped us put a stop to the pollution_."

"That's great news!" Neil exclaimed. "Is there something else you need help with? Just say the word, and we'll rally to the cause!"

" _No, little one. But thank you for the offer_ ," Titus chuckled. " _I have sought you out in order to warn you of the one who poisoned our river. He is up to something... I'm sure of it_."

" _Jasper?_ " asked Jack. His teeth clenched, as he recalled the heinous acts of the immoral school janitor. "Yeah, he was the one who was dumping the toxic goop into the river, alright. But he set up my father, to take the fall for his dastardly deeds. He's a first-rate scoundrel, to say the least! What kind of trouble is he brewing this time?"

" _That, I'm afraid, I don't know the answer to_ ," Titus said. " _But I've been keeping a close eye on him, ever since you exposed his evildoings_. _He lives at an isolated farm, and the property's nearness to the woods allows me to study his activities... to some extent, at least. I dare not get too close, for fear of discovery_."

Neil and Jack nodded in understanding, for they knew that Titus chose to remain hidden from humans, in all but the most dire of scenarios.

" _I cannot say what the one you call 'Jasper' is doing, but I have no doubt that he's up to no good. It seems that he spends a large amount of time working on some project, laboring late into the night... and I can sense that he has learned nothing from his past errors, I'm afraid_."

"Yep, he's a real galoot," Neil confirmed. "It doesn't surprise me one bit, that he wouldn't learn."

" _I must go now for now... my duties call to me, and there is much to do. But I wanted to seek you out and warn you, little ones. Be on guard – and should you need my help, I will answer the call, if it is within my power to do so. You are friends of the forest, and I will always be indebted to you_."

Titus rose to his full, staggering height. He gently lay one hand upon the top of Neil's head in farewell, and then did the same for Jack and Nibbler. Arturo launched from the swamp beast's shoulder and flew off, with powerful motions of his wings. Titus turned, pushed two small trees aside, and disappeared into the brush. His departure was marked by the sound of his massive body passing through the vegetation... _Rustle-rustle-rush-crush_.

Neil, Jack, and Nibbler watched in silent awe as the silhouette of the swamp beast blended into the dark shapes of the forest. It was impossible to not be filled with wonder at the encounter. Though it was disturbing to hear the report that Jasper was up to no good, this news was overshadowed by the feeling of exhilaration that swelled in the hearts of the boys, and gratitude for once more having a brief experience with Titus.

Only after the sounds of Titus' passage had dwindled away to nothing, did Neil and Jack return their attention to Lefty's Manor, which they could see from afar. Resuming their stealthy approach, with Nibbler leading the way, they once more crept closer, seeking a superior place of observation.

### Chapter Five

### Strange Things Are Afoot

As Neil and Jack snuck through the woods, with Nibbler stealthily slinking beside them, they contemplated what they had been told by Titus. It was not terribly surprising to hear that Jasper was back at his dastardly deeds. But he had to be up to something _particularly_ nefarious, for Titus to feel that he had to warn them to be on guard.

When they felt that they were close enough to Lefty's Manor, they crouched amid a colony of assorted shrubberies. From this point of surveillance, Neil, Jack, and Nibbler collectively observed the house. In particular, their eyes were concentrated on the window wells of the basement, which were just above the ground, and built into the concrete of the foundation.

It was in those windows that there appeared a very _odd_ thing. The boys and the dog saw the intermittent burst of blue-white light, an arc of electricity against a pane of glass.

" _Gobstoppers!_ " Neil gasped. "What is _that?_ "

"Exactly what I'm wondering!" Jack exclaimed. "And that's what I'm living with... That's the kind of weird stuff that goes on around here when I'm trying to catch a few z's at night! It's not too easy, let me tell you, when you've got these crazy noises coming from the basement, and lightning flying around."

" _The basement_ ," Neil muttered thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin. "Didn't you say that Lefty has some kind of laboratory down there?"

"Yep," Jack confirmed.

"Have you been down there yet?"

"Nope... it seems like my uncle's always down there, working on something, and I haven't wanted to intrude. He seems to _really_ get into his projects. But I think that's going to have to change, after tonight... there's no way I can go without investigating this."

"You won't be alone!" Neil declared. "This clearly seems to be a scenario requiring backup."

"Well, I won't disagree with that," Jack said. "Backup is definitely in order."

" _Woof!_ " Nibbler added, vouching his own support.

The dog was pressed between the two boys, wiggling along on his belly in order to maintain _Labradoodle_ _stealth mode_. His ears were flat against his head in consternation. He eyed the basement with apprehension, while a low, deep growl vibrated within his chest.

Nibbler paused in his growl for long enough to press his cold snout against Neil's cheek, and administer a reassuring touch from his slobbery tongue. In response, Neil giggled. He couldn't help it... he was ticklish.

Strange, funky music began to drift from the basement. It was loaded with the sound of bass strings being plucked, and a spunky, feisty melody.

"Your uncle sure has some weird taste in music," Neil noticed.

"Yep, he sure does," Jack agreed.

"Does he always play it so loud, this late at night?"

"No, not until tonight... He was playing it earlier, but nowhere near this loud. Uncle Lefty must really be getting into whatever he's doing down in the laboratory. And I heard this same kind of music, right when the other noise started happening."

" _What_ noise?" Neil inquired.

No sooner had the question been asked than there came a great _Thoom!_ from the basement.

" _That_ noise!" Jack told him.

So came the crashing sound from the ancient basement, and the manor almost seemed to shudder upon its foundation. It was such a blast of noise, such a jolt, that Neil and Jack could not help but lurch backward at the sound of it.

And then, there came a voice from afar, issuing from the laboratory. "It's alive!" called the voice. " _It's aliiiivveee!_ "

" _It's alive?_ " Neil gasped. "Um, what exactly? _What's_ alive?"

"That strikes me as a real good question, right about now," Jack admitted.

Nibbler thumped his tail between the two boys, and uttered an inquisitive chuff. He too, it seemed, was struck with curiosity.

The basement windows were illuminated with a particularly bright blast of light, as the sound came again: _THOOM!_ This time, it was accompanied by the noise of crackling electricity.

Lightning danced about, and burst through the panes of glass that covered the window wells of the basement. Forked fingers arced forth, reaching in the black night air.

It crackled, and roared, and belched with discord. It was a sound that sent chills through the bone, and acorns tumbling from the limbs of nearby oak trees. Alerted by the sound, Nibbler rose from the ground, but remained pressed against the boys, offering the comfort of his furry weight.

It was at that moment that their attention was diverted to the treetops above. At some distance not terribly far over their heads, there came a strange noise that sounded an awful lot like... _chattering_. But it was a weird, high-pitched kind of chattering, and if it was communicating anything at all, it must have been done in some sort of babbling, nonsensical language.

"Um... do you hear that?" Neil asked.

His eyes were wide as he studied the trees above. He could see little in the darkness, but the branches and leaves were moving about quite a bit. It seemed clear that _something_ was up there.

"Oh, I hear it," Jack assured his friend, as he scanned the canopy. "But I'm afraid I can't tell you _what_ I'm hearing."

An acorn descended, and bopped Nibbler at the very tip of his black snout. He blinked in surprise, and his ears perked up, at what seemed to be strange giggling from the trees above.

"Okay, I think I've seen enough for one night," Neil decided. He gripped Jack's shoulder in alarm. "Let's get out of here!"

"Agreed," Jack said. "You don't have to tell me twice. I think it's time we performed a tactical retreat, so we can regroup!"

Neil and Jack ran for their bicycles, with Nibbler right beside them. With the strange noises roaring behind them, and weird arcs of lightning illuminating the darkness, they raced away, pedaling madly into the night.

###

Thank you for reading this sample of _The Green Beans, Volume Two: The Strange Genius of Lefty O'Houlihan_. If you wish to read more, this novel can be downloaded, free of charge, at Smashwords and most major book retailers. For more adventures with the Beans, please visit the author at GabrielGadget.com.

