by Deb Caletti
“Just like Luna,” Jo sighs. “She refuses to eat anything yellow.”
“Rocco won’t eat anything green,” Apollo says, and then he and Jo pause to share a look of understanding that makes Henry feel slightly disappointed.
“He’s nowhere in this meadow, that’s for sure,” Pirate Girl says, thankfully breaking up the unpleasant romantic moment.
“Gerenuks don’t eat grass,” Apollo says, “so no wonder he’s not here. They only like broad-leaf plants and trees, and thorny, prickly shrubs.”
Henry looks up at the huge mirrored tower, Vlad Luxor’s tower. It looms above them, high on Rulers Mountain. He stares at the road going up, up, a road that goes through a—
“Not the forest again,” Pirate Girl groans, interrupting his thoughts. They had to spend a horrible and frightening night there when they were trying to turn Apollo’s little brother Rocco back into a boy.
“Oh please no.” Jo shivers.
“I don’t think he’s there,” Apollo says.
“What a relief,” Jo says. Henry lets out a long exhale, too.
“That forest doesn’t have the kind of wide leaves a gerenuk would like.” Apollo bites his thumb with nerves.
“Wait,” Pirate Girl says. “What do you mean, that forest?”
“You’re not saying—” Henry’s stomach drops same as when an asteroid falls from the sky and destroys a planet on Rocket Galaxy.
“The Wilds?” Jo says. “No. No, no, no. We went to the tower, but no one goes to the Wilds.”
“All I know about the Wilds is that it’s a land of its own. An endless tangle of who-knows-what,” Henry says. “You can go in there and never come out.”
“My mother said if you ventured into it, you could easily find yourself in places you hadn’t intended,” Jo says. “That’s way too dangerous.”
“You guys aren’t even mentioning the worst part,” Pirate Girl says.
Henry can barely think about it, let alone say it out loud. In the Wilds, there’s an entirely different kind of enemy. Not a terrifying HRM or an evil right-hand man, but a shocking monster of some kind that few have ever even seen.
“The Shadow of the Wilds,” Jo breathes. Her face goes white.
“They say it’s an evil spirit that climbs trees, walks upright, breathes fire, and kills men,” Pirate Girl tells them, as if they needed to hear the gory details right then.
“No way. We can’t go in there,” Henry says as a trickle of goose bumps shoots up his arms.
“But the Wilds is just the place for a gerenuk,” Apollo says. “It is a land of its own, with plants and trees of all sorts. A grove of ancient baobabs. A whole area of rainbow eucalyptus with bark in every color you can imagine. Dragon’s blood trees with thick red sap, and giant sequoias, and even one redwood nearly three hundred feet tall.”
“It sounds so amazing that I almost want to go,” Pirate Girl says. “Except for . . .” She puts her hands up like a giant scary creature in Amazing Stories magazine.
A Giant Scary Creature in Amazing Stories Magazine
Apollo shakes his head firmly. “Uh-uh. You definitely don’t want to go. And not just because of . . . the Shadow of the Wilds.” It’s hard for Apollo to even speak the words, which is quite understandable if you’ve heard the rumors. A dragon-like beast hanging in a tree. Twelve feet long. A whip-like tail, a bone-crushing bite. Full-grown men pummeled like piñatas.
“I’m afraid to ask,” Jo sighs. “All right. Go ahead and tell us.”
“Well, there’s a forest of knives, too, made of sharp limestone rocks that are as high as skyscrapers. It’s deadly to even walk by them.”
“No way!” Pirate Girl says. “That’s horrible and extremely interesting.”
“How do you know all this, Apollo?” Jo’s impressed, and Henry can’t blame her, because he is, too.
“I just read about it in Unexplored Lands in the lighthouse library.”
“He wouldn’t go in there, would he? Jason Scrum, I mean,” Henry says.
“He only thinks about his own needs, and his need is food,” Apollo says. “And for a hungry gerenuk, the Wilds is a menu with practically everything.”
A Menu with Practically Everything
Henry groans.
“I hate to even say so, but I’m sure that’s where he went.” Apollo shakes his head because they’re doomed. “In the Wilds, there are definitely broad-leafed shrubs, and even—”
“Shh!” Pirate Girl says. She grabs Apollo’s arm to quiet him.
Henry hears something, too. It’s some sort of scritching sound, and there’s rustling, and even a few grunts and mumbles. Henry’s heart bangs like an unlatched shutter in a windstorm. Button begins to growl, long and low. And then, in a moment, there’s a flash of movement, the kind of flurry where many things are happening at once. Pirate Girl is flapping her arms. Jo is swatting something away from her head.
And then Jo screams.
CHAPTER 11
Two Unpleasant Reunions
Get off of me, you creep!” Jo yells.
Before Henry even understands what’s happening, Pirate Girl has Mr. Reese by the collar. Mr. Reese! The former left-hand man, currently a squirrel thanks to Vlad Luxor, is doing the most awful thing you can imagine a squirrel doing—scurrying around in Jo’s hair. A few weeks ago, Mr. Reese helped the children escape to safety, but only after they promised to turn him back into a man. Unfortunately, the spell was a failure and had rather surprising side effects.
Rather Surprising Side Effects
With one swift move, Pirate Girl grabs Mr. Reese by the wide collar of his cloak. “What do you think you’re doing, scaring us like that?”
“And where did you even come from?” Apollo asks.
“That tree right there,” Mr. Reese says, straightening his bonnet and pointing his scary little claws toward a large evergreen somewhat far away. “You seem to have given me an ability to jump great distances, even though you’ve made me an object of ridicule.”
“I think you look lovely,” Jo says. The corner of her mouth goes up in a smile. “I’ve seen worse.”
Worse
Mr. Reese shakes his little fists. “Do you think this is in any way acceptable? What if you had to wear this outfit forever? I went through the heat of summer in this coat! Ugh!” He grabs his bonnet with both sets of claws, but it won’t lift from his head.
“Pfft,” Pirate Girl says, just like Grandfather Every. “Trivial.”
“Trivial!” Mr. Reese’s cheeks puff with outrage. “How could you say such a thing? If you weren’t the only ones around who could fix this embarrassing situation, I would turn around right now and not bother to warn you.”
“Warn us?” Henry says.
“He no longer recognizes me in this humiliating outfit, so I ran straight past him to tell you. He’s coming your way!” Mr. Reese points down the meadow road. Henry can’t see a thing. His own eyes are so bad, all of Huge Meadow is just a blur of orange and yellow.
“Who?” Pirate Girl asks.
“WHO? Who do you think?” Mr. Reese yells as loudly as a squirrel can.
Apollo pushes his glasses up his nose and looks in the direction Mr. Reese is pointing. “Oh no! Needleman! He is coming!” A flurry of panic pours from Apollo. “Wearing his dark suit with those shiny cuff links! He’s carrying a walking stick, and he’s sticking it into every clump of brush, and lifting the leaves and branches, and bending down to look underneath . . .”
Henry shudders. He will never forget Needleman’s frigid grip around his neck, or the way he pinched them under their arms, or shoved them into the Cage Lurch, cackling horribly every time the ride spun past him. Just the thought of Needleman’s thin, pointed nose jabbing into their faces, fingers reaching . . . Henry is utterly terrified, yet he also
has one of those brief moments of courage that take place only in your head.
One of Those Brief Moments of Courage That Take Place Only in Your Head
When the children hear Needleman’s cold, awful voice in the distance, though, any thoughts of bravery vanish.
“Children! Oh, children!” he calls. “Little truant children who are skipping school today! Don’t you know what this will do to your report cards? You won’t get your shiny trophies and first-place ribbons! You won’t go to an important college! Your bragging parents will be disgraced by their failed little superstars!”
Needleman gets louder and louder as he gets closer and closer. “Oh, chil-dren! Where are you?”
“Don’t just stand there with your mouths open and your knees knocking! Move!” Mr. Reese says.
“The rodent’s right!” Pirate Girl says. “Hurry! We’ve got to get out of here.”
CHAPTER 12
Nowhere to Turn
Pirate Girl puts two fingers in her mouth and blows, and at the loud threep! Button jumps into her sidecar. Wow. Henry always admires this about Pirate Girl. She knows every way to make a whistle with your fingers.
The children hop on their bikes. Henry pedals madly. Jo’s shiny black hair streams behind her. Pirate Girl leads the way, and Apollo’s feet spin in blurred circles.
Every Way to Make a Whistle with Your Fingers
If it were up to Henry right now, he’d be riding back down, down the road to the lighthouse and to safety. And today, they’re not going up, up the mountain road that leads to Vlad Luxor’s black-mirrored tower, either. No, they’re heading somewhere entirely different, where none of them have ever gone before, and where few villagers have even gone, because, of course, no one with an ounce of good sense would even consider sticking one foot into the Wilds. Past the Circle of the Y, everything that’s familiar in Huge Meadow disappears behind them: the orange-tipped grasses of fall, the slumped heads of the dying flowers. The path dwindles to an end, and now there’s only the uneven flat land of Hollow Valley.
Henry rides so fast, his knobby tennis-ball knees throb. His small hands grip the handlebars, and the fall chill whips right through his thin T-shirt. Pirate Girl is hunched down, riding hard, too, with Button in her sidecar, but the path is getting rockier and bumpier, and the sidecar jangles and threatens to spill.
“I’m going to get off,” Apollo shouts over his shoulder. It’s the only possible thing to do, so they all begin to walk their bikes over the stones and through the clumps of grass of Hollow Valley.
Now imagine this: Ahead of you is an immense and looming wall of green, growing larger and larger as you get closer and closer. It’s a huge expanse of tangled brush and bizarre-looking plants that isn’t so much a jungle as an entirely new land. The smell is old and wet and green and earthy, and that smell seems to get larger, too, as you walk closer. Once you enter a place like that, your own home, your province, would—poof—disappear, as if you were swallowed by a leafy green darkness.
“Wow,” Pirate Girl says.
That place stretches before them like a mystery, like their own unknown futures. Their toes are right at the edge. Apollo drops his bike. Henry sees strangler figs winding their way up every tree, and brain-like witches’ butter clumped along roots and branches. He hears strange calls of unknown birds—both eek, eek, eek and awk, awk, awk, and eek, awk, eek and awk, eek, awk, and . . . One could go on forever listing them. It’s easy to believe there are creatures of all kinds and sizes in there. It’s easy to believe there’s an evil spirit that can break your bones like a mad teacher snaps a number 2 pencil.
“The Wilds.” Henry’s voice is full of hushed fear, but he’s also awestruck, and full of curiosity, too, because none of them has been this close to it before.
“We’ll never get out of there before my mom’s celebration,” Jo says. “We may not get out of there ever.”
“There’s no way we can bring our bikes,” Pirate Girl says.
“It almost looks too thick to even walk in,” Henry says, putting down his kickstand and scooping Button from Pirate Girl’s sidecar.
“This is a terrible plan. I mean, look at that place,” Jo says.
“But Needleman will be here any second,” Pirate Girl says. “We’ll be trapped up against this jungle of . . . everything.”
“Going in there is a very bad idea,” Apollo says with great certainty, and the children’s faces grow worried, and now you should imagine a feeling of great despair mixed with anxiety, because if you can’t go forward and you can’t go back, you’re in deep trouble.
“It’s dark and creepy. But it’s also prickly and viny and shrubby and perfect for a gerenuk. Ugh!” Pirate Girl rubs her temples.
“We have to think of another way to find him,” Jo says. “And fast.”
But they’ve been standing there far too long already, trembling and pondering. Evil has its own cunning speed, even if it’s wearing shiny black dress shoes, and Needleman is visible in the distance now, waving that stick over his head.
“I see you, you little brats!” he shouts. “I see you right there! Caught, with nowhere to turn!”
And he’s right. They are caught, with the Wilds on one side and Needleman on the other. He’s getting so close so fast that Henry can see the drops of perspiration trickling down Needleman’s forehead, because, of course, one works up quite a sweat running that distance in a black suit with cuff links. Henry sees the look in Needleman’s eyes, too, and he can almost feel his cold grip again, as if Needleman is a creature made only of sharp, chilled fingers.
A Creature Made Only of Sharp, Chilled Fingers
Needleman is panting hard. He’s right there, so near now that when he waves the stick, Henry feels a whoosh of air. And when he waves it again, the end of it ticks Henry’s shirt.
“Chee chee chee!” Mr. Reese says, twitching his tail in urgency and speaking squirrel since Needleman still doesn’t know he can talk, let alone that he’s Vlad’s former left-hand man, helping them secretly.
“Brats!” Needleman puffs. “Sniveling, whining, traitorous, br—” He swings the stick again, and it narrowly misses Apollo.
What an impossible decision! Should they stay or should they go now? If they stay, there will be trouble. And if they go . . . Well, who knows? There’s only one way to escape Needleman, though. One terrible place he’ll never enter. The same place a gerenuk might be.
“Come on! Into the Wilds!” Jo commands, like Juana Azurduy, commander of the rebel army.
And so the children do the unthinkable. They turn toward that deep, deep tangle and flee into that unknown land, with its endless fathoms of green and its dangerous shadows.
CHAPTER 13
Into the Wilds
Isn’t that marvelous!” Needleman shouts. “You silly brats, doing my dirty work all by yourselves! I’ll just sit here and read a magazine while you disappear. Be sure to look both ways! Put on your sunscreen! See you never!” He cackles.
Quickly—very and most unnervingly quickly—Needleman’s voice fades behind them, and any path that they had cleared as they ran in closes behind them, too, like the mouth of a predator.
The Mouth of a Predator
“I can’t believe we’re in the Wilds . . . ,” Jo groans with dread.
“I can’t believe we’re in the Wilds!” Pirate Girl shouts with excitement. She’s whisking her pocketknife this way and that, easing their passage through the thickness. Button is up ahead, scooting around and under brambles and bushes quite adeptly.
Henry’s nose fills with every lush, fragrant, mushroomy damp-earth smell. He hears drips and drops and the scurrying of many-legged creatures. Do you know that kind of deep and disappearing feeling you get when you’re reading a marvelous book, the feeling where you can barely hear the sounds of the world
around you? Of course, every book is a wilderness, but that’s the feeling Henry is having, only in real life. There’s magic and terror and wonder every direction he looks. In spite of his fear and the danger they’re in, he says, “Wow. This is beautiful for a terrible place.”
“That’s for sure,” Pirate Girl says. “And now that we’re here, we might as well search for a gerenuk. He’s around somewhere.”
“So is . . .” Jo doesn’t say it—the Shadow of the Wilds. But they all glance upward into the trees right then, and Henry rubs his arms from the chill of nerves.
“We have to be very careful,” Apollo says. “Don’t just grab any old branch for balance, or touch an interesting plant, or smell a beautiful flower. Things are not what they seem here. Be on your toes.”
“We will,” Henry says. He and Button are already experts at that.
“For example,” Apollo continues, “it’s okay to eat that awful-looking elephant foot yam.” He points to a small, round, horribly ugly plant that looks like a purple cabbage gone wrong. “They’re actually really good for you. But we shouldn’t go near that devil’s helmet over there.” Now he points to a very beautiful purple flower.
“It’s the exact opposite of what you’d think,” Jo says.
“This is the weirdest place I’ve ever seen.” Pirate Girl’s eyes are wide.
Henry can hardly take everything in. There’s a shocking array of colors and shapes, spike-like teeth and velvety petals, spines and spindles, and silvery nettles. There are living things over his head and at his feet, to his left and to his right, at his elbows and up to his chin and—well, you get the idea. There’s flora and fauna flourishing far and near.
