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Arthur and the Forbidden City
By Luc Besson HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.
Copyright © 2006 Luc Besson
All right reserved. ISBN: 0060596260
Chapter One
As the sun sank slowly over the peaceful valley, Alfred the dog opened one eye. A slight breeze signaled that the temperature might finally be bearable. He got up slowly, stretched his legs, emerged from the shadow of the windmill where he had been hiding, and trotted across the grass.
From the tall chimney of the house by the river, a young sparrow hawk followed the dog with its piercing eyes, but only for a few seconds. That prey was too large. The bird turned its head slowly, looking for another victim. Suddenly it let out a hoarse, powerful cry that awakened Grandma, who was stretched out on the couch in the living room.
Grandma sat upright. "How could I doze off like that?" she asked herself, rubbing her eyes. The events of the last few days came back to her. Arthur, her adored only grandson, had disappeared -- just as her husband had done four years earlier, in the garden by the oak tree in search of a treasure.
She had searched the garden from one end to the other, torn the house apart, and called for him from all the neighboring hills, without finding a trace of her grandson.
She imagined so many different explanations . . . perhaps extraterrestrials, for one. She imagined large green men coming down from the sky in theirUFO and kidnapping Arthur. She was almost sure of it.
She missed his little blond head, tousled hair, and two large brown eyes, always with their look of wonder. She missed his voice, as sweet and fragile as a soap bubble. A tear made its lonely way down her cheek.
She looked at the sky for a moment through the window. It was uniformly blue and desperately empty. No trace of extraterrestrials. She let out a long sigh and looked around her at the silent house.
It was lucky that the sparrow hawk had woken her up. The coolness of the room and the hypnotic tick-tock of the clock had made it impossible to resist taking a nap.
The young bird of prey cried again.
Grandma perked up her ears. She was ready to interpret anything as a sign, a mark of hope. She was convinced that the sparrow hawk had seen or heard something, and she wasn't entirely wrong. The bird was indeed declaring that he had heard something even before it was visible on the horizon.
That something was a car, accompanied by a cloud of dust that glistened in the sunlight. The sparrow hawk scrutinized the car from the chimney top as if he were equipped with radar.
Grandma listened carefully. She could hear a faint rumbling in the distance. The sparrow hawk let out two small cries, as if to indicate the number of passengers inside the car.
Grandma turned her head slightly, the way you would turn an antenna in order to capture a signal. The engine noise could suddenly be heard everywhere, and the trees began to stir, echoing its horrible sound.
The sparrow hawk decided it was time to leave, which was not a good sign. Perhaps he could sense the series of events that was about to take place.
Grandma jumped to her feet. There was no doubt about it -- the sparrow hawk had sent her a signal. Grandma composed herself, straightened her dress over her considerable frame, and searched frantically for her slippers.
The noise of the engine invaded the living room. Grandma stopped her search and headed toward the door wearing only one slipper, limping like an old pirate with a wooden leg.
The engine stopped. The door of the car squealed as it opened, and two worn leather shoes emerged, stepping onto the gravel. Grandma reached the door and struggled with the key.
"Why on earth did I lock the door?" she grumbled to herself, her head down. She did not notice the two silhouettes outlined by the sun behind the door.
The key rattled a little but finally turned in the lock. Grandma was so surprised by what she saw as the door swung open that she could not help letting out a little cry of horror.
There was nothing particularly horrible about the smiling couple standing on the landing, except perhaps their bad taste. The lady was wearing a dress with large purple flowers, the man a plaid jacket of greenish yellow. It was hard on the eyes but nothing to scream about.
Grandma stifled her cry and tried to convert it into a welcoming noise.
"Surprise!" chanted the couple, in perfect unison.
Grandma spread her arms and tried as best she could to assume a natural-looking smile. Her mouth said Hello while her eyes said Help.
"What a surprise," she ended up blurting out. Arthur's parents were standing in front of her, as real as a nightmare.
Grandma continued to smile, blocking the front door like a soccer goalie. Since Grandma was not moving, not speaking, but only stood there with her strange smile, Arthur's father was forced to ask the question that she feared the most.
"Is Arthur here?" he asked jovially, without a moment's doubt about what the answer would be.
Grandma smiled some more, as if hoping to suggest a positive answer without actually lying. But Arthur's father was waiting for a reply. So Grandma took a breath and said, "Did you have a good trip?"
This was not really the answer that Arthur's father was waiting for, but he was a good driver, so he launched into a detailed account. "We took the shortcut to the west," he explained. "The roads are narrow there, but according to my calculations we saved about twenty-five miles. Which means, given the price of a gallon of gas, that we -- "
"That we had to turn every three seconds for two hours," complained Arthur's mother. "The trip was a horror and I am grateful that Arthur did not have to suffer such punishment." Then she added, "So where is he?"
"Who?" asked Grandma, as if she were hearing voices.
Continues...
Excerpted from Arthur and the Forbidden City by Luc Besson Copyright © 2006 by Luc Besson. Excerpted by permission.
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