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“They’re coming,” Isadora whispers, voice shaking. “How far to your friend’s self-sustaining hot air mobile home?” She asks Klaus and Violet.
Violet’s eyes shoot upwards as she catches the glare of bright green balloons in the sky. “It’s not how far, it’s how high,” she realises. She stares at the hot air balloon as it slowly disappears higher into the clouds, heart sinking with the daunting task. “We have to catch it.”
“How?” Isadora starts to ask, but they’re brought back to their dire reality as the chants of “Burn those kids!” resound from all across the village.
With the village and his troupe in tow, Olaf, dressed as Detective Dupin, strolls over to the fence that the children are taking cover behind. “You’re out of buildings to hide behind, orphans,” he snarls, a devious grin stretching across his face.
As the mob surges closer to the fence to kick it down, the sound of an engine powering up stops them. The villagers barely have time to leap away from the fence before a large, rusty firetruck bursts through, knocking it completely over.
The children hear Esme shriek loud enough to shatter glass as they all hold on for dear life on the back of the firetruck.
Duncan squints, nose scrunching in confusion and disbelief. “Your sister drives?”
“Apparently,” Violet shrugs, clearly too concerned with their overall situation to care much about this new and unexpected development. “Sunny, keep your eye on that balloon!” She instructs.
“And the road,” Klaus stutters, still unable to comprehend that his toddler sister can drive.
Sunny expertly maneuvers straight into a set of poles, knocking them down as the truck gains speed and merges onto the road.
Back at the ranch, which is to say, the centre of the village, Fernald and the Person of Indeterminate Gender fumble their way through knotting a rope as they secure it onto Jacquelyn and Larry’s bodies, effectively trapping them from attempting to rescue the children.
The Person of Indeterminate Gender stares after the truck, mouth agape in their usual baseless expression. “Was the baby driving?” They drawl in their usual lazy voice.
“She’s more of a toddler now,” Fernald beams, face warm with pride. She isn’t my baby, he reminds himself, even as his heart soars with the affection of having watched her grown up ever since Olaf had set his eyes on her.
Speak of the devil; Olaf and Esme run past them, and Olaf stops momentarily to speak to them.
“Oh, hi!” He feigns a joyous greeting. “The orphans are escaping. Both sets of them.” He throws up both hands in the air, helplessly, before his face morphs into one of annoyance and disgust. “Get the car!” he growls. His henchmen race towards the getaway car, and he turns to Esme. “Darling, I think it’s time to try out your new toy.” He gestures in the direction of said new toy, and she grins excitedly, rushing off to grab it.
Back on the road, the firetruck screeches swiftly to a stop directly under the hot air mobile home.
“Hector!” Violet shouts to him as the children all look above.
He peeks his head out from the mobile home. “Baudelaires! I’m so glad you made it!”
“I hope you don’t mind a few extra passengers!”
“Not at all! The self-sustaining hot air mobile home needs several people to keep it running!” Hector starts to unravel the rope ladder, throwing it down to the ground. At the same time, Klaus engages the ladder of the firetruck, and it rises, unfolding to its full length. It’s a close call, but the ladders meet almost perfectly end to end, and Violet sighs in relief. Their unplanned, dangerous escape plan may work after all.
“You first,” she tells the Quagmires. After all they’ve done to help her and her siblings, the least she can do is ensure their safety first.
“We’ll be right behind you,” Klaus reassures, and Isadora nods, grabbing the ladder to start climbing.
As they make their way up the ladder, the Baudelaires turn around to find the mob drawing closer and closer to the firetruck.
“It looks like a self-sustaining hot air mobile home!” Mr. Lesko shouts.
“Don’t let those children escape, or we’ll have to find some other orphans to do our chores!” Anabelle instructs.
“And burn,” Sam adds.
Hector grabs his megaphone, aiming it directly at the crowd. “You should do your own chores! Or take turns doing them according to a fair schedule! The aphorism is, ‘It takes a village to raise a child’, not ‘three children should clean up after a village’!” Violet’s eyebrows raise, lips pursing, impressed, as she listens to Hector shout at the villagers. This has to be the angriest she’s ever heard the anxious, emotionally fragile man sound.
“Is that Hector?” Mrs. Morrow says in disbelief.
“He’s a traitor and a rule-breaker!” Sam says.
“Burn him, too! I’ll get more kindling!” Mr. Lesko says.
Olaf strolls to the front of the crowd, turning around to address all the villagers. “Birdland, groove on this!” He drawls in his stupid Detective Dupin hippie accent. “I am deputising the whole kit and caboodle! Now let’s scoot up that red-hot jalopy and drag down those killers!”
The villagers all cheer with renewed determination, raising their pitchforks and marching closer to the firetruck.
Beads of sweat trickle down Violet’s brow, both from the heat and the worry of not making it up to the firetruck. Looking around nervously, she sees nothing but the rust of the unused firetruck and…
She picks up the hose of the firetruck, brandishing it with both hands at the crowd.
Klaus watches as she does so, and then whispers, “There’s no water in this truck.”
“They don’t know that,” she whispers back, and he realises exactly what she’s trying to do.
“Stand back! She’s got a hose!” Mr. Lesko shouts, and the villagers all stumble, moving back as a collective.
Violet grins in temporary triumph, raising the hose higher. “That’s right! I’ve got a hose, so if you want to stay dry, stay back. Right, Klaus?”
“Absolutely right!” He agrees. “Although this truck is a 1956 International R190, it’s been retrofitted to the specs of a triple-pump La France, with 800 gallons of water on board, which, as anybody that’s read a book about firetrucks knows, can be shot out at a rate of 1,600 pounds per square inch! Which,” he pauses to pant, pressing his glasses back up his nose, “is a lot of power.” Hands shaking, voice quivering, heart racing, he turns to Violet. “How was that?”
“Comprehensive,” she smiles.
Back in the crowd, Esme pushes her way past the villagers, clearing a path for herself in the middle. “Out of my way! Move it!” She yells as she shoves people aside, locking and loading her secret toy.
“I beg your pardon, but is that a harpoon gun?” Mr. Poe places a hand on his chest, clutching his figurative pearls.
“Si, my boyfriend bought it for me.” She loads an arrow into the gun and aims it at the hot air mobile home. “It fires hooked harpoons that are perfect for popping balloons.”
“But what if you accidentally hit one of the children?” Mr. Poe asks, glancing nervously at Isadora, who’s reached the end of the firetruck ladder and is grasping desperately at the rope ladder, Duncan close behind.
Olaf waves his hand dismissively at Mr. Poe. “It’s cool, big daddy.”
The whole mob gasps as Isadora reaches out too far for the rope and almost slips off the entire ladder. Thankfully, she manages to balance herself and finally gets a good grasp on the rope, starting to climb the second ladder.
Olaf smirks. “Open fire, officer!”
The arrow shoots through the air and, faster than anyone can blink, sails straight into one of the bright green balloons. It pops, the impact shuddering the entire hot air mobile home, and Isadora loses her footing on the firetruck ladder, swinging precariously with nothing to hold her up but her grip on the rope ladder.
“Isadora!” Duncan shouts, reaching a hand up for her instinctively, even though he can’t help her from where he is.
“Hang on!” Hector says as he rushes to rebalance the hot air mobile home.
Isadora successfully grabs onto the second rung of her ladder, and starts climbing as Duncan reaches for the rope as well.
Klaus looks at Violet, racking his brain for some kind of plan. “We’ve got to do something. Esme might hit Isadora with the next arrow.”
Duncan finally gets a steady grip on the rope ladder, and he starts to climb as well.
“They’re almost to the top,” Klaus realises, and his heart lifts a little. Maybe they can make it out of here after all.
“Good. Get Sunny and start climbing,” she instructs. “I’ll hold off the mob as long as I can.”
Klaus reaches through the window for Sunny, securing her snugly on his waist before starting to climb.
Almost like a second, mini deus ex machina, the concepts of a plan pop into Violet’s head. This may not work, but it may be enough of a distraction to get her siblings to the top.
As Esme loads her second arrow, she realises it’s now or never. “Stop! Stop shooting at them!” She yells to Esme. “With your mechanical device!”
A gasp resounds from the crowd as the villagers realise the true nature of the weapon Esme is using to stop the childrens’ escape.
“Mechanical device?” Jemma’s voice rings out, and she rushes over to Esme, the other two judges in tow. “Mechanical device?” She repeats, voice cracking, aghast.
“Officer Luciana, is that harpoon gun mechanical?” Anabelle demands.
“She’s breaking rule number sixty-seven!” Sam exclaims.
Olaf’s lips contort into a snarl. “She’s capturing murderers, you square!”
“You can’t let people break the rules to catch people breaking the rules!” Sam says, just as a murder of crows flies overhead, cawing loudly in unison.
“They’re getting away with my inheritance!” Olaf grumbles as Esme aims her harpoon at the hot air mobile home.
Anabelle raises a wagging finger at Emse. “Put down that harpoon gun in the name of these wonderful birds!”
Esme smirks, teeth glinting against her red lipstick. “The only bird I like is in a chicken sandwich.” She lets the arrow fly free, and Violet watches helplessly as it soars through the sky straight for the Quagmires and her siblings.
However, the arrow never reaches them, or the hot air mobile home. She stares as the arrow seems to slow in her vision, flying through the air before piercing painfully through a poor crow.
The villagers gasp as it floats through the air towards them, hitting the ground with a sickening thud right by the feet of the judges. It lets out a final, winced caw, before retracting its wings and just laying there, still as a summer sky.
Violet can only stare at the bird, flinching slightly at its painful shriek, before her brain snaps into action. This is her only chance!
Looking up, she sees that Isadora and Duncan have already made it, and Klaus and Sunny are on the last couple rungs of the rope ladder. Realising that she hasn’t got much time, she starts climbing as fast as she can, hands sweaty and slipping, feet grinding against the rusty metal as she races up the ladder.
For a second, none of the villagers speak. A heavy silence settles around them, a tension even heavier than the silence.
Finally, “You harmed a crow,” Anabelle’s voice rings through the silence, appalled, still staring as the poor thing’s feathers twitch in agony.
The judges all turn, expressions matched in their outrage.
“You broke rule number one!” Sam exclaims.
“That is the most important rule of all,” Jemma clarifies.
Olaf shrugs his shoulders. “It’s just a stupid bird.”
The entire mob gasps, moving closer, clearly having found someone new to add to the kindling.
“A stupid bird?” Anabelle repeats, voice growing louder in both intensity and emotion. “A stupid bird?!”
“Young man, this is the Village of Fowl Devotees!” Sam says.
“We take our fowl devotion very seriously,” Jemma continues.
The villagers all nod, snarling and growling in agreement, like a pack of rabid dogs having found a richer, more exquisite dinner.
“Relax, man, everything’s cool,” Olaf stutters, raising his hands in surrender, pressing closer to Esme as the villagers close in around them.
“Everything was cool in this village before you two showed up,” Anabelle mutters. “You and your funny talk, and you with your harpoon guns.”
“It’d be a shame to waste the kindling.” Mr. Lesko snarls.
“And pitchforks,” Mrs. Morrow agrees.
“Burn them!” Sam shouts.
“Stop in the name of the law!” Esme shrieks in her stupid Luciana accent, pushing her hand out to keep the villagers away from her. She turns around just in time to see Violet push off the last rung of the rope ladder and climb into the hot air mobile home. “Stop in the name of the law!” She screams, accent long forgotten, but it’s too late. The hot air mobile home is rising further into the air.
Olaf's jaw slowly drifts open as he watches the hot air mobile home disappear into the blue of the sky. Devastated, he stumbles to the front of the crowd, sinking to his knees. “No,” he mumbles. “No,” he pleads, louder now. “I had everything. Two sets of orphans. Two sets of fortunes. And now it’s all gone.” His knees hit the gravel, and he tilts his head up to the sky, raising both hands dramatically towards the clouds. “Gone!” He shouts, voice reverberating through the air. Esme rushes to him, grabbing his shoulder.
“Darling, you have not lost everything. You still have me. And I have the location of the sugar bowl,” she hisses in his ear.
“Let’s fly this coop,” Olaf grumbles, and they make to stand.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mr. Lesko asks, and just as quickly as Violet Baudelaire had used the distraction of the harpoon to escape, the villagers are on the villains, hands binding their shoulders and limbs.
“The one thing I can thank you two for is giving us the idea to burn criminals. Now, we’re going to burn you.” Anabelle says, mouth widening in a smirk.
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Back at the ranch, which is to say, the hot air mobile home, the children settle in, introducing Hector to the Quagmires as they tell him their version of their journey escaping Olaf.
“Thank you for saving us and giving us a home with you,” Isadora tells Hector.
He smiles warmly at her. “Of course. It’s only my pleasure. My ma would never turn down the opportunity to help five courageous, kind children. You’re welcome to stay with me as long as you’d like.”
As he settles into a corner, flipping to a dog-eared page of The Pony Party, the Quagmires turn to the Baudelaires.
“We have something for the three of you,” Duncan announces, and they pull out twin mini-notebooks from the pockets of their Prufrock Prep uniforms.
“This is all the information about the real VFD. We read through the entire book that night and took as many notes as we could.” Isadora explains.
“Everything we’ve learned is in these commonplace books.” Duncan continues. “We’ve learned about Count Olaf’s plan, about Jacques and his associates. This is way bigger than either of us ever imagined.”
They place the books in Klaus and Violet’s hands.
“I don’t even think this is all the information out there, but any discovering we do next, we can do together.” Isadora smiles.
“Together.” Duncan agrees.
“We’re in this together for as long as you’ll have us.” Klaus responds.
“Of course. I’m sure you know,” Violet continues.
“What?” Duncan and Isadora ask in unison.
“What friends are for.”