Chapter One
There often comes a time in life when one finds him or herself in a hostile place, be it the bleachers of the opposite team's hostile fans, the house of one’s own in-laws – an expression which here means ‘the parents of your significant other’ – or high school, and all one can do is to try and survive it. But as far as hostiles places go, the most hostile place anyone could go, the place where this dreadful book takes place, is the most vile and horrid. The things that happened and still do happen at Firefly Farm are enough to give someone nightmares for their entire lives. Even now as I write this I shake in rememberance of the things I learned of the Quagmires’ triplets period at the farm. They didn’t spend a long time, there, to their great fortune, though the things they were confronted with would haunt them forever.
As the hovercraft that once belonged to a man named Jeremiah Hudson sped upstream a river of muddy waters, surrounded by woods on both sides, the Quagmire triplets sat still, listening to nothing but noise of the water the hovercraft agitated as it navigated the river.
Quigley Quagmire, the eldest and strongest of the three, had fallen silent as he and his brother and sister traveled the river, unsure what to expect of what laid ahead for them. They had come to those parts of the country to meet with a Jeremiah Hudson, only to find out he was dead and to stumble upon a shard of Grimstone, the dreaded substance the Unknown Agents once so coveted. They had no viable time to decide what to do with it, but it didn’t feel right to leave it where it was. It was fortunate that they did take it, as they later discovered, but right then, they felt nothing but dread. Jeremiah Hudson Senior, the man they were told to seek out by Dr. Nebra, was dead, and so now was his son, Jeremiah Hudson Junior, pushed into a bog teeming with alligators by the slimy cajun handyman, René Chenier, in front of Jeremiah’s wanton wife, Catherine. Jeremiah had met a grim end, but his was kinder than the one that awaited Catherine and her cajun lover. Even if Quigley was strong, he could not help them against three of the vilest villains they could have encountered.
Duncan Quagmire, the middle child of the triplets, and the second boy. Like his brother, Duncan had grown considerably since the three triplets were swallowed up by the Great Unknown and made to work by the Agents. For a few terrible months, their lives were bound to end in that dreaded submarine, enslaved by the Agents in vengeance against the volunteers who stood up against the use of Grimstone. But not all was lost; due to their sister being picked as handmaiden to Dominique Fulfillment, the woman once known as “woman with hair but no beard”, their lives in the Unknown improved, at least a little. Duncan then thought of the Baudelaires, who, like them, were swallowed up by the Unknown, bringing Cindry Fulfillment with them. The Quagmires had never met Cindry directly, but they had to admire her courage. In the end, it was her unwillingness to serve her mother that caused the Weapon to go haywire, ushering the destruction of the Great Unknown, and therefore, the end of V.F.D. The organization had ceased to have it’s purpose, which was to fight the fire-starters, the ones who wanted to flood the world and erase all answers, leaving only questions which would never be answered.
Isadora Quagmire, the only girl of the triplets had an easier time in the Great Unknown then her brothers. She had even met a boy who she came to love. Nemo Vladmiroff. Dominique and Vladimir Ivankov’s only son. A grimstone test subject, and to his parents, a tool. An object, to be used and discarded. Isadora felt sorry for Nemo when they had first met, but she admired him for putting up with so much. The Quagmires had known loving parents, a home, love. Nemo never had any of it. Only grimstone in his bloodstream and the promise of being used to activate a Weapon that would help his mother and father rule the world. But now Isadora could help him. She would find him, and the Quagmires would find Cindry, and Dr. Nebra, and finally, the Baudelaires. It was their only goal other than their own survival.
‘What’s that up there?’ Duncan asked, pulling Quigley’s sleeve and pointing to one of the shores of the river. ‘It’s a quay I think. Wait…’ Quigley had found a binocular among the survival supplies they had removed from the escape pod. ‘I see fields. Tall golden dried grass…’
‘I see a sign.’ Quigley said, looking at the farm with the binoculars. ‘What does it say?’ Quigley pushed a button, zooming into whatever it was that he was seeing.
‘Firefly Farm. We’re here.’ The words filled the three Quagmires with dread. Somewhere in that farm, there were three vicious, unfriendly men with a love for violence and savagery. Somewhere else in the farm, too, were the badly injured René Chenier, whom one of the Crowes had attacked with a rake, and Catherine Hudson, Jeremiah’s wife. Somewhere else still, they thought, were Caroline Hudson and Tiana, the only two decent human beings at Bayou Lafayette. And they were in the Crowe’s thrall. That alone was more than enough to frighten them.
‘Do you think they’ve been harmed?’ Isadora asked. As a girl, Isadora felt a special kind of fear, specially in such places. Bayou Lafayette itself was dreadful, what with the pervert that was René Chenier. Firefly Farm was a different ball-game, as they would soon confirm. ‘Let’s hope not.’ Quigley and Duncan had become very protective of Isadora due to their time in Dread Down. They often had to run to her defense when an Unknown Agent peace keeper or even some drunken Dread Down dweller would give Isadora a hard time. Eventually, Isadora could wander freely, as she had two brothers, everyone knew. Other girls were not as fortunate, however. Not that Isadora was entirely defenseless. One time she didn’t need her brothers’ help to subdue an aggressor. All it took was a pipe.
‘I don’t think we should take the hovercraft to the quay. The Crowes might see it, or they might realize we’re here.’ Duncan said. ‘The smart thing to do here is to look for Caroline and Tiana stealthily. The fields are covered in wheat, it seems.’ Duncan took Quigley’s binocular. ‘There’s also some woods behind the farm. I pictured this place as being larger, for some reason.’
‘Yeah me too.’ Quigley took the binocular back from Duncan and examined the extension of the farm. Firefly Farm was located in an almost rectangular cut of land, divided unequally into two halves by a creek – a word which here means ‘small river’. It wasn’t that large a farm, quite shabby, actually. Less places to hide in, they realized, but just as there was less places for them to hide in, there were less places that Caroline and Tiana could be in. That prospect cheered them, if only a bit. ‘Well, the water’s not as deep here. We can tread the water and climb onto the quay over there. From there we can hide in the fields, make our way to the woods.’ Quigley said. ‘The woods are right behind their house, see?’
The grim, unkempt house that belonged to the Crowes sat atop a hill, surrounded by tall patches of wheat, or whatever it was. There was a pig sty to the right, and next, and further to the left, a gourd patch filled with pumpkins. The fields were golden and flowing with the wind, and the Quagmires noticed the barn. It was a shabby looking thing, and it had a mill behind it, almost already inside the woods. The barn was closed. Their eyes diverted to the fields, where from several wooden crosses hung some scarecrows.
Scarecrows are constructs made of saggy old clothes the farmers thought too repulsive to wear and filled with hay in order to scare off crows from eating the crops. But there were no crows to be seen anywhere around the farm. To the left, there was a fenced grazing patch for a pathetic herd of squallid-looking cows and a single bull, which had a broken horn. To the left of
that, there were several leafless trees with colored bottles hanging from them, reflecting back sunlight. All over the trees, a murder of magpies.
Murder here, of course, describes that there were multiple magpies, which are annoying birds who like shiny things and like to eat farmers’ crops. The word does not here mean, however, the grim crime of a human taking another’s life, even though
that sort of murder happens in this story, and not just once. No, no. Several murders occur, and it’s best to close this book and forget all about Quagmires, Crowes, magpies and murder, because that is all you will find should you continue reading this vile story.
‘A small chicken coop there by the house. Big enough to hide two girls for a while I think. Though our best bet is the barn.’ Quigley said, and put away his binocular. The Quagmires talked it out for a bit and decided they would approach the quay still on the hovercraft. Just as they were about to set foot on the quay Isadora noticed a patch of land that surrounded a small circular area, with tall wheat all around it. The Quagmires thought it was a lucky break, and it was, because that hovercraft would prove invaluable to their journey, and they had previously considered sinking it to the bottom of the river. After stepping out and removing some things from the hovercraft they used some mud and wheat to camouflage the thing until the bright colors were no longer visible. After that, they decided to check out the area around the barn.
It wasn’t until they were within a few paces of the barn’s side wall that they heard the screams.
Chapter Two
Immediately, the Quagmires threw themselves on the ground. They had learned quickly, down in the Great Unknown, to throw themselves on the floor at the sound of the screams and shooting. Many a time they had avoided a stray bullet or two when some fools tried to rebel against the peace keepers, and the Agents. No good ever came out of those rebellions, not until the Agents no longer had their main Weapon. But those screams from inside that barn at Firefly Farm, and not from a dark place called Dread Down.
The screams, the Quagmires noticed, were from he mouth of a male who must have been enduring severe pain. At first they didn’t recognize the voice, due to the primal, animalesque nature of the screams. But eventually, when the screams stopped and he begged them to stop, the Quagmire triplets recognized the voice of René Chenier, uncharacteristically not slimy, or honey-coated. His was the voice of a broken person.
‘
Please!Stop! Dun do ‘is ta moi!’ René begged, and the Quagmires heard laughter. ‘Oh, we ain’t stoppin’ nothin’. You cajun rat! You killed ol’ Jeremiah Hudson. Sure, eventually we woulda done the deed ourselves! But you had no right to kill that man! He was
ours!’ The voice of one of the Crowe siblings. They recognized it as the voice of the one the others called Magpie. The one with streaks of white amidst the other locks of black hair, his face and clothes soiled with cemetery earth. The graverobber. Magpie.
‘P-please…
Si vous plait…’ René begged. The Quagmires heard a thud, and René screamed again. A kick, they guessed. It could have been a kick, or something blunt against René’s stomach, because it robbed him of air and he kept silent.
‘We ain’t nearly done with you yet, believe me.’ The voice of the other Crowe, the large one, with hairy chest, arms and back, and slick, straight black hair falling down from his head, a dark frame for a dark face. ‘I ain’t never had a cajun man here before. I don’t intend on lettin’ ya go so easily.’
‘Easy now, brother.’ The third brothers’ voice was heard. The thin, tall one with the tangled mess of raven-black hair. ‘You each got three times each, and I only had’im once or twice! It ain’t fair.’ The other two laughed. ‘Sure, sure. Make’im squeal, Jay. I’ll go check on Father.’
The Quagmires only had a split second to conceal themselves in the wheat before Magpie Crowe walked out of the barn. He was shirtless, and carried his dirt-stained long coat over his shoulder. He must have spotted something different, because he looked
directly at where the Quagmires had hidden themselves, as if he could sniff them out or see them despite the thick layers of wheat and grass separating them. Then Magpie’s attention turned to the grim old small house atop the hill, and he made for it. The Quagmires breathed in relief.
After a few seconds, the screams began again. René begged and begged, but he received no mercy from his captors. The Quagmires had half a mind to leave, to forget about that farm, the Hudsons, the Bayou, and make for the nearest city as fast as the hovercraft would take them, but they couldn’t. Caroline Hudson and Tiana were somewhere in that farm, scared and scarred, with no one to count on but them.
After a torturous hour of listening to René’s screams, the cruel crack of a whip once or twice, and the laughter of the two Crowe brothers who were with René, the Quagmires were all but silent, unable to do anything. Eventually, the screams stopped, and so did the
other noises. ‘The bastard passed out!’ One of the brothers shouted angrily. ‘It ain’t ma fault! Y’are the one that gets carried away, Jasper!’ The thin one’s voice.
‘Leave’im, Jay. We’ll finish this later! Let’s go have sum supper!’ Jasper and Jay Crowe walked out of the barn almost casually, as if they had done no wrong. As if what was happening in that barn wasn’t horrific. ‘Do I lock it or leave it open?’ Jay Crowe asked. ‘Leave it open, dumbass. That sorry ol’ bastard ain’t goin’ nowhere.’
The two Crowe siblings walked away from the barn, making for their house, atop the hill. Night was falling, and smoke was coming out of the chimney. A window on the upper floor was lit with what the Quagmires guessed was candle light. The Farm was so far from civilization they didn’t get electrical power at all.
The Quagmires were unsure what to next. Sure, they despised René for what he had done to Jeremiah Hudson, a sad man with a sad life. But it was still a life. Now Jeremiah was dead. However, they could not exactly process what they had just heard. They were no strangers to this sort of thing. Dread Down was a terrible place. But after witnessing the sheer malevolence of the three Crowe brother put René in a much lower tier of villainy despite his horrific murder of Jeremiah Hudson. The Crowes were
evil. Pure evil.
The Quagmires had known their fair share of villains in their unfortunate lives. Olaf. Esmé Squalor. Olaf’s theater troupe, the dreadful people who Olaf entrusted the Quagmires with when he had to go out and pursue the Baudelaires. The peace keepers at Dread Down, the gaolers in the Great Gaol, and the dreaded duo, Dominique Fulfilllment and Vladimir Ivankov, and their most loyal and deranged follower, Dr. Lugae and his sequitum of evil scientists. Yes, the Quagmires had seen their share of villainy. But the Crowes, as they were beginning to learn, were cut from a different cloth than any other villain they had ever met.
‘Let’s go and see if Caroline and Tiana are in the barn. They could be tied up and gagged so they could not scream for help.’ Quigley said. Isadora and Duncan nodded in agreement, and the three Quagmires entered the barn.