Fablehaven: The Complete Series (100 page)

“Oh,” Kendra said. Her goal had not been to advertise that distracter spells had no effect on her, but she could think of no false explanation to explain how she had seen the fence so easily. There it was, three parallel strands of barbed wire affixed to slim, rusted posts.

When the truck reached the gate, Neil slowed to a stop, climbed down, opened the gate, climbed back up, and drove through. The instant the car passed the fence line, a massive plateau sprang into view up ahead, so dominating the landscape that Kendra could not fathom how she had failed to notice it up until now. The looming mesa was not only enormous, it was striking, with bands of white, yellow, orange, and red coloring its steep sides.

“Welcome to Lost Mesa,” Neil said, stopping the truck again.

“I’ve got it!” Warren called as Neil opened the door to climb down again. Warren ran over and shut the gate. Neil closed his door as Warren leapt back into the truck.

Kendra began to notice that the imposing plateau was not the only variation in the landscape on this side of the fence. Tall saguaro cacti were suddenly plentiful, rounded green arms pointing skyward. Joshua trees mingled with the saguaros, contorted limbs twisting into unlikely shapes.

“There weren’t cactuses like this a minute ago,” Kendra said.

Neil shook his head. “Not like these. We have a diverse forest here.”

The truck sped up. The road was now paved. The asphalt looked dark enough to have been recently laid. “Is that
the
lost mesa?” Kendra asked, looking up at the plateau.

“The table that went missing when the preserve was founded. Here we call it Painted Mesa. Almost nobody knows, but part of the reason the Navajo people ended up with the largest reservation in the country was to conceal this hallowed place.”

“Do Navajos run it?” Kendra asked.

“Not solely. We Diné are new here compared to the Pueblo people.”

“Has the preserve been here long?” Kendra asked. She finally had Neil on a roll!

“This is the oldest preserve on the continent, founded centuries before European colonization, first managed by the ancient race outsiders call Anasazi. Persian magi actually established the preserve. They wanted it to stay a secret. Back then, this land was unknown across the Atlantic. We’re still doing a good job at remaining off the map.”

“Painted Mesa can’t be seen from outside of the fence?” Kendra asked.

“Not even by satellites,” Neil said proudly. “This preserve is the opposite of a mirage. You don’t see us, but we’re really here.”

Kendra glimpsed fairies flitting among the cacti. A few were bright, with butterfly or dragonfly wings, but most were colored in more earthy shades. Many had scales or spines or protective carapaces. Their wings reminded Kendra of locusts and beetles. One furry brown fairy flapped leathery bat wings.

As the truck rounded a corner, new species of cacti came into view. Some had leaves like swords; others had long, spindly arms; still others had reddish needles. Sitting up next to a clump of spherical cacti, nose twitching as it tested the air, a large rabbit with a short pair of forked antlers caught Kendra’s eye.

“That rabbit has horns!” Kendra exclaimed.

“Jackalope,” Neil said. “They bring good luck.” He glanced at Kendra without moving his head. “You had milk this morning?”

“Warren has some buttery stuff that works like the milk,” Kendra said evasively. Warren did have a substance like that, derived from the milk of a giant walrus on a preserve in Greenland. He had even eaten some today, so his eyes would be open to the magical creatures of Lost Mesa. Kendra neglected to mention that Warren had not shared any with her because she no longer required milk to observe magical beings.

The truck topped a rise, and the main buildings of Lost Mesa came into view. Kendra first noticed the huge pueblo complex, which looked like two dozen boxy adobe homes artfully stacked together. The windows were dark, with no glass. Wooden beams jutted from the reddish-brown walls. Beside the pueblo stood a white hacienda with a red-tiled roof. The horseshoe-shaped hacienda looked considerably more modern than the pueblo complex. A tall water tower overshadowed the hacienda, built on long stilts.

Across a vacant area from the houses stood two other structures. One was a vast wooden building with a curved aluminum roof. Even though she saw no runway, Kendra wondered if it might be an airplane hangar. The other was a low, domed structure that sheltered a wide area. The gigantic black head of a cow even bigger than Viola protruded through a large opening just above ground level. The cow was munching hay from a vast trough. Seeing that enormous head at ground level revealed to Kendra that the domed roof must cover a tremendous pit where the colossal cow lived.

The truck snaked along the curvy road, pulling to a stop on a tiled area outside the hacienda. Before Neil had cut the engine, the main door opened, and a short Native American woman emerged. Her silver hair was pulled up in a round bun, and she wore a colorful shawl across her shoulders. Although her copper skin was seamed, her eyes were lively, and she walked with vigor.

Several other people followed the woman out the door. A potbellied man with narrow shoulders, long limbs, and a heavy gray mustache walked alongside a tall, slender Native American woman with a broad jaw and high cheekbones. Behind them came a freckly woman with short brown hair pushing a pudgy, round-faced Mexican man in a wheelchair.

Kendra dropped down from the truck, while Warren, Dougan, and Gavin hopped out of the bed. “Welcome to Lost Mesa,” said the older woman with the bun. “I am Rosa, the caretaker here. We’re glad to have you with us.”

They exchanged introductions. The tall younger woman was Rosa’s daughter, Mara. She said nothing. The gangly man with the mustache was named Hal. Tammy was the woman pushing the wheelchair, and she seemed to know Dougan. The guy in the wheelchair was named Javier. One of his legs was missing. The other was in a splint.

It was decided that Warren and Dougan would go talk to Rosa, Tammy, and Javier inside the hacienda. Neil and Mara helped Warren and Dougan tote their bags into the house, leaving Kendra and Gavin alone with Hal, who had been appointed to show them around the preserve.

“Don’t that beat all,” Hal said once the others were out of sight. “The sky starts falling around here, and they send us a couple of teenagers. No disrespect intended. First thing an able mind learns at Lost Mesa is that looks can deceive.”

“Wh-wh-who died?” Gavin asked.

Hal raised his eyebrows. “If they didn’t tell you, I’m not sure it’s my place.”

“Javier was injured at the same time?” Gavin wondered.

“So I’m told,” Hal said, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans. The movement made Kendra notice his heavy silver belt buckle with a majestic elk engraved on the front.

“Hot today,” Kendra said.

“If you say so,” Hal allowed. “Monsoon season is under way. We saw rain two nights this week. Things have cooled off a few degrees since July.”

“Wh-what are you going to show us?” Gavin asked.

“Whatever you like,” Hal said, flashing a smile that showed a gold tooth. “You two are getting the V.I.P. treatment, in part because you could end up with the R.I.P. treatment. Heaven forbid.”

“D-d-do you know why we’re here?” Gavin asked.

“None of my affair. Some foolishness up on Painted Mesa, I expect. Something risky, judging from Javier. I’m not one to pry.”

“Tammy was working with Javier and whoever died?” Kendra asked.

“That she was,” Hal affirmed. “Things went awry, so they called in the cavalry. You kids been to a preserve like this before?”

Gavin nodded.

“Yeah,” Kendra said.

“Then I reckon you can guess what the cow is for.” He jerked his head toward the domed structure. “We call her Mazy. She’s been skittish lately, so don’t slide up too close, especially when she’s eating. A few folks live in the pueblo over yonder, but you’ll have rooms in the house, for which you’ll be grateful, once you feel the draft from the swamp coolers.”

“What about the building that looks like a hangar?” Kendra asked.

“That’s the museum,” Hal said. “One of a kind, for all I know. We’ll save it for the finale.” He picked up a covered white plastic bucket with a metal handle and slung it into the bed of the truck Neil had driven. Pulling a set of keys from his pocket, Hal opened the passenger door. “Let’s take a ride. We can all squeeze up front.”

Kendra climbed up and scooted into the middle. Hal sauntered around to the driver’s side, using the steering wheel to pull himself up. “Nice and cozy,” Hal said, turning the key in the ignition. He glanced over at Kendra and Gavin. “Don’t tell me you two are sweethearts.”

They both hastily shook their heads.

“Now, don’t go protesting too much,” he laughed, backing up the truck before starting down a dirt road. “Aside from the buildings and Painted Mesa, I know this place looks like a whole lot of nothing. But you’d be surprised at the hidden springs and ravines and sandstone mazes. Not to mention that most of the activity around here takes place beneath the surface.”

“Caves?” Gavin asked.

“Caverns that would put Carlsbad to shame,” Hal exclaimed. “Some individual chambers could house an entire football stadium with room to spare. I’m talking about no fewer than seven elaborate cave systems that go on for hundreds of miles all told. I expect one day we’ll find how they all interconnect. If this place were open to the public, it’d be the caving capital of the world. ’Course, as you might expect, you never know what a spelunker might run across in the tunnels below Lost Mesa. Better to stay on the surface, enjoy the gorgeous gorges and the beautiful buttes.”

“What kind of creatures are in the caves?” Kendra asked.

“I make a point of not knowing. One of these days I’ll kick the bucket, sure enough, but curiosity will not be my downfall. That said, you don’t have to go looking to know those caverns teem with every manner of haunt and bugaboo that have plagued the human race since time began. Here we go. Take a gander up ahead.”

They came around the side of a bluff, bringing into view an old Spanish mission with a single belfry. The brown walls of the building rose and fell in gentle curves. The truck drove around to the back, where they found a cemetery enclosed by a low wall.

Hal brought the truck to a stop. “This and the pueblo are the oldest structures on the property,” he said. “One of the most memorable features is the boneyard. It not only houses the biggest zombie collection in the world, it’s one of the oldest to boot!” He opened his door and got out.

Kendra turned to gauge Gavin’s reaction, but he was already climbing down as well. She heard the tinkling of many bells coming from the graveyard. “Zombies?” Kendra asked incredulously, sliding out of the truck, soles slapping the dirt. “As in dead people?”

“Not people,” Hal clarified. “Not like you and me.” He retrieved the plastic bucket from the back of the truck. “They don’t have any more brains than a leech. And they aren’t any more human either.”

“Is this safe?” Kendra asked.

Hal led the way to a short iron gate in the cemetery wall. “Zombies have only one drive. Hunger. Satisfy that drive, and they aren’t too harmful. We’ve got as good a system here as I’ve ever heard of.”

Kendra followed Hal and Gavin through the gate and into the graveyard. None of the headstones were ostentatious. They were small and old, white as bone, worn so smooth that only a few occasional letters or numbers were faintly visible. Planted beside each grave was a bell on a small pole with a cord attached. Each cord disappeared underground. Of the nearly two hundred bells in the graveyard, at least thirty were ringing.

“Took some doing,” Hal said, “but they got these zombies pretty well trained. It was done before my time. When the zombies get hungry, they ring their bells. If they ring long enough, we bring them some mash.” He held up the bucket. “Long as we satisfy their hunger, they stay put.”

Hal walked over to the nearest clanging bell. He crouched, lifted up a clear tube that ran into the ground, and unstopped it. Then he took a funnel from his back pocket. “Mind holding this?” he asked Gavin.

Gavin held the funnel in the tube while Hal took the lid off the bucket and began pouring goopy red fluid. Kendra looked away as the chunky liquid sluiced through the tube. Hal quit pouring, stopped up the tube, and moved to the next active bell. Kendra noticed that the first bell was no longer ringing.

“What if you quit feeding them?” Gavin asked, inserting the funnel into the next tube.

“I expect you can guess,” Hal said, pouring the gruesome sludge. “The hunger would build until they clawed their way to the surface to find food on their own.”

“Why not get them nice and full, then dig them up and burn them?” Kendra asked.

“That wouldn’t be very charitable,” Hal scolded, proceeding to a new grave. “Maybe you don’t understand. Unlike some of the undead, zombies have no human spark. Ending the suffering of a human trapped in a state like this, I could view that as mercy. But a zombie has no humanity. A zombie is something else. An endangered species, truth be known. Not pretty or cuddly, not very bright, not very quick. Tenacious predators, deadly under certain circumstances, but not overly adept at defending themselves. We found a way to keep zombies satisfied without letting them harm anyone, a way to preserve the species, so we do it, unsavory or not. We’re not much different from a wildlife conservationist trying to protect ugly bats or spiders or mosquitoes from extinction. These refuges exist to protect all magical creatures, the fair ones and the foul ones alike.”