My head broke the surface and I shook the sludge off my face like a wet dog, spitting out the liquid earth. With my good eye I saw Snarffle above me, hanging upside down by the leash attached to the tree branch. His tongue was wrapped around my wrist.
I heaved mightily on his foot and raised myself inch by inch out of the earth stew. Snarffle unraveled his tongue and freed my hand to reach above him and grab onto the leash. I let go of his foot and climbed the leash hand over hand like it was one of those big ropes in gym class. When my legs came out, the soupy ground sucked the shoes right off my feet.
Finally I was able to grab the branch, panting and wheezing with exhaustion. I hooked my armpits over the tree limb and prayed it wouldn’t snap and send both of us crashing back into that mess. I unwound Snarffle’s leash with my free hand. He jumped onto my shoulder, gripping fiercely with all six of his little feet. I pulled myself up until I could throw my leg over the branch, then I worked us along the length of it, scrunching up and expanding like an upside-down centipede. We reached the trunk and slid down until my shoeless feet hit the firm ground at the edge of the clearing.
I didn’t think I had any strength left, but Snarffle started whistle-whimpering and pacing back and forth, and I knew I was still going to have to try to save that fawn.
I slipped the harness off of Snarffle and looped it over another branch, tugging on the leash to make sure it was secure. With a good grip on the leash this time, I leaned out over the clearing.
When my hand plunged below the surface it was hard to fight off the panicky feeling of being trapped down there. I raked through the sludge until I finally found one of the fawn’s legs. There was no struggle in it anymore.
Bracing myself against the leash, I lowered myself into a squat and heaved. Slowly, a back leg emerged, followed by another, and then the fawn’s hindquarters. After several minutes of concentrated effort, the entire body of the little deer was up on solid ground.
He wasn’t moving, just lying there on his side with his legs curled up underneath him. Snarffle hunkered down near the fawn’s head and sniffed at it with his little nose tendrils. He kept looking back up at me, clearly wanting me to do something.
“I’m sorry, Snarffle. I just think this little guy might have been under for too long.”
But after a few moments the fawn made a choking sound, and drops of dirt juice splattered out of his mouth and nose. His legs twitched and he made a feeble attempt to lift his head, but he was just too exhausted.
I could relate. The energy to stay upright drained from my body, and I sank to the ground. I slumped backward, my head resting on a bed of pine needles. Snarffle nuzzled up on my right side while the fawn stretched out on my left. We just lay there, panting heavily in the middle of the forest, the strangest hiking trio on Earth—a boy, his pet alien, and their fawn friend.
I was hoping that Grandma wouldn’t be too upset that I didn’t find Sasquatch when an even worse thought occurred to me….What if he was buried under all of that sludge?
Off in the distance, another massive tree surrendered and splashed into the ever-expanding clearing.
The daylight faded until everything appeared to be wrapped in gray.
Something shifted on the road behind me. My thoughts immediately flew to Scratchull. I had a clear vision of him creeping up and shoving me back into the soupy clearing.
But when I turned my head I saw the mama deer watching us. She took a couple of shuffling steps forward. I kept my body still but tightened my grip on Snarffle, petting him to keep him calm.
The mama deer worked her way toward us a few steps at a time. She finally got close enough to crane her long neck and lick the top of the fawn’s head. The baby deer stirred, then opened its eyes. Our heads were only about a foot apart. For a moment it just watched me sleepily, but as soon as it realized that we were from very different species, it lurched upright and stumbled away behind its mother.
“Good-bye,” I said softly. “Stay away from this place. Tell your friends.”
The mama deer held my gaze for a few seconds, then turned and bounded away into the woods, followed closely by her fawn.
I eased myself upright and stretched my tired arms. “I think I owe you a few treats for saving my life, fella.” I scratched at the smattering of blue dots on Snarffle’s back, and he wriggled with happiness. “You can have anything you want in the kitchen, how about that?” I looked out over the murky, boiling clearing and shuddered. “Heck, you can belly up to the all-you-can-eat furniture buffet if you like.”
Snarffle whistled happily and licked my face as if to say, I didn’t do it for the treats…but I’ll take some if you’re offering.
I sighed. “Well, boy, we better get back to Grandma’s place and tell her about all of this.”
His little tail twirled in agreement. I climbed up on sore legs—pulling that fawn out of the muck had strained my entire body—and slipped the harness back over Snarffle. We set out on the old logging road.
It was slow going with no shoes. Even using my flashlight, I couldn’t seem to avoid all of the rocks and fallen branches and exposed tree roots that nature put in my path.
By the time we stumbled onto the little trail that led to Grandma’s backyard, it was the full dark of night. Snarffle flopped down underneath a rocking chair on the porch and was whistle-snoring away in just a few seconds. I know it’s lame, but I envied him. How nice it would be to just block out all of this craziness.
No chance of that. My feet ached as I climbed the steps of the porch and staggered through the back door and into the kitchen.
Grandma and Tate were sharing one of the benches at the communal dining table. Sasquatch sat opposite them, his massive frame taking up two chairs. He raised a hairy paw in greeting as I entered. I waved back, but I wasn’t entirely sure whether I was happy or angry to see him sitting there all cozy and dry. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t be—
“David!” Grandma called. “It’s good to see you. We were starting to get a little worried.” She gestured to Sasquatch while giving me a sheepish look. “As you can see, our friend returned safe and sound. He’s been telling us all about his trip.”
“Whoa, boy. How’d you get so dirty? And what’re you doing walking around barefoot out there?” Tate made a sour face. “You’re worse than those aliens, tracking all that muck through here. Looks like you didn’t get your fill of scrubbing the floors this morning, ’cuz you’re just going to have to do it again.”
I looked down. My skin and clothes were coated with a film of soupy dirt juice, but here in the glare of electric lighting it looked more normal, just like dried mud.
Grandma swatted at Tate’s shoulder. “Leave David alone. He looks exhausted.”
Tate harrumphed. “At least it’s good old Earth dirt and not a bunch of germs from outer space.”
I remembered the murky bubbling of the clearing, definitely not how good old Earth dirt behaved. “There’s something I need to show you guys. Up the logging road.”
“What were you doing up there?” Tate said.
“Oh, you know. Just letting Snarffle stretch his legs. He’s been pretty restless all day,” I said, glancing at Grandma. She looked from me to Sasquatch and back to me again, smiling a little apology at me. “I guess I lost track of time.”
“I know how that goes,” Sasquatch said. “I stayed an extra day myself. The weather was fantastic.”
I was about to ask him if he saw anything weird along the way when Grandma said, “Why don’t you sit and rest, David?” Grandma patted the bench. “Relax with a nice cup of tea.”
I noticed they all had cups and saucers in front of them. Well, except for Sasquatch. The dainty cups were way too small for his huge paws, so he was drinking straight out of the teapot. But he did lift one furry pinky as he slurped his tea—trying to fit in, I guess.
It was maddening to watch them all just sitting there so calmly—and cleanly—after my near-death experience. “But I really ne
ed to show you something. It’s important,” I said. “I think we should all get in the Jeep and drive up there. Right away.”
Tate leaned forward and studied my face. “What’s got you so riled up tonight, boy?”
Grandma stood and crossed the room to me. “What is it, David? Is one of the guests in trouble up there?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s…well, there was this…I guess it was kind of, sort of, a swamp, but not really.” I tried to recapture the creeping horror of the spectacle—the eerie movement and that boiling noise—coupled with the terror of being sucked underground. But here in the safe warm glow of the kitchen, the intensity of the experience was slipping away. “Only it was more than that. There was—”
Scratchull pushed his way through the swinging kitchen door. He stopped short and gaped at me for a second, taking in my wet socks and gritty hair, but quickly recovered himself. He directed his attention toward Grandma and Tate. “I was checking to see if you needed anything further before I retired for the evening.”
“Actually, we might need you to stay up a while longer and keep an eye on the place while we drive up the old logging road,” Tate said.
Scratchull’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Whatever for?”
“Apparently the boy ran across some kinda swamp up there.” Tate stood and fished the Jeep keys out of his pocket. “Not entirely sure what he’s talking about, but it seems like it might be worth checking out.”
Those red pinpricks of light flared up in Scratchull’s eyes, but quickly faded. “David is from a very different part of the planet, climate-wise. Has someone informed him that in a rainy, temperate climate such as the Pacific Northwest, the ground tends to get wet? Which can lead directly to swampy conditions?”
Sasquatch nodded in agreement.
“It was more than that!” I blurted out. “The clearing was huge, and it was sucking trees right down into the middle of it. And there were these…bubbles…” Even I could tell how lame that sounded. “I don’t know, these dirt bubbles, and they were—”
“Dirt bubbles?” Scratchull said, barely containing a hideous little smirk. He turned his attention to Tate. “David is certainly leaping to all sorts of interesting conclusions today, isn’t he? Wasn’t it just this morning that he accosted a pair of humans, mistaking them for off-world guests?”
My face flashed hot in anger and embarrassment. “That has nothing to do with—”
“Simmer down, now, David. I’m sure you saw something up in those woods. Nobody’s disputing that,” Tate said.
“Scratchull does have a point,” Sasquatch interjected. “The rainwater and glacial melt run down those foothills something fierce, and water gets trapped in all sorts of unusual places. Mud slides can rip trees right up by their roots. Why, I’ve seen sinkholes open up wide enough to swallow…well, me.”
“Exactly,” Scratchull said, still addressing Tate. “And I ask you: are those really the best conditions for driving around in your Jeep in the dark of night?”
Tate shoved his keys back into his pocket. He sat down and cleared his throat. “Scratchull’s right. Seems like an unnecessary risk. Especially for something that’s not exactly of an emergency nature.”
Scratchull smiled and inclined his head at Tate. “Always the voice of reason, Officer Tate. We are all fortunate that you are in the proprietor’s employ here. I agree that waiting until morning would be best. Now, if you will excuse me, I should go.”
Everyone except me bid the white alien good night. I just glared at him as he made his way to the door. And was it just my imagination, or did he leave in much more of a hurry than he came in?
“You know, maybe we should drive up there and have a look tonight after all,” Grandma said. I glanced up to find her studying my face. “I know David doesn’t spook easily.”
“Hold on, now. I know David’s a brave fella,” Tate said. “But walking around in the woods after dark can be unsettling sometimes. Especially if you come across a patch of wetlands unexpectedly and stumble headlong into a big mud puddle.”
My face got hot; he made me sound like a toddler. “It was more than that,” I mumbled, trying to preserve at least a piece of my dignity.
“I know what you mean, kid,” Sasquatch chimed in. “Like I said, I’ve seen the hillsides out there after a mud slide. Looks like a big eraser came along and just wiped out a chunk of the forest.”
That description came closer to describing the soupy clearing. Is it possible there was a simple, natural explanation for what I had seen…? Could I be really making too much out of it?
“Sometimes the ground gets downright unstable out there, especially when it’s oversaturated,” said Tate. “You get your foot caught in that muck, and it can feel durn close to quicksand. That how it was for you, David?”
I nodded. “Quicksand, yeah. Felt like I was being sucked under. I lost my shoes….” I stopped before I started crying. Now I felt like a toddler. My words sounded lame—completely failing to capture the life-or-death aspect of my struggle in that mess.
“Well, we’ll tool up there after we wake up in the morning.” Tate held up his hand to cut off Grandma’s objection. “I have no doubt that David came across something, okay? But Scratchull was right: if the ground is that unstable near the road, we don’t want to go poking around in the pitch black. Get the Jeep stuck, and we’ll be there all night.”
Grandma pressed her lips together and looked hard at Tate, but finally nodded. “All right. In the morning. But you need to let me make you a good breakfast first.”
Tate mimed having his arm twisted behind his back. “All right, you win. We’ll let you cook breakfast.”
Tate kept up the arm-twisting routine, mock pain contorting his face, until a little smile broke through Grandma’s tight expression and she swatted playfully at him. It was sickening.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass,” Sasquatch said, putting down the teapot and stretching his huge arms over his head. “It’s been a great little getaway, but it’s time for me to get home.”
“Will you at least stay for breakfast?” Grandma said.
“I better hit the transporter tonight, sleep in my own bed. Big shoe sale tomorrow. Too bad I don’t have any in your size,” he said to me with a wink.
“All right. Well, I’m sorry we didn’t have more of a chance to visit,” Grandma said. “You must let me pamper you a bit more next time.”
“You got it. And let me know if anything comes of this mystery-swamp sighting.”
Part of me wanted to scream, to wake them all up, to make them feel a fraction of the terror I had just experienced. But that part of me was getting smaller. Most of me just wanted to shower and go to bed.
Once I got under the covers, though, I spent most of the night lying awake, trying to decide if it was possible I had seen something that occurs naturally around here. It seemed hard to believe, but I had to admit I didn’t know much about old-growth forests in the Pacific Northwest.
I sighed and stared at the ceiling. Then I started thinking about Scratchull. He was somewhere out there, right now. What was he doing, or thinking? Knowing that he never slept made it very hard to keep my eyes closed.
I wondered if I was going to get a single good night’s sleep this summer.
“Nice kicks.” Amy didn’t even try to hide her smirk.
I looked down at the pink Converse high-tops with the blue stars all over them. They were the only shoes that fit me in Grandma’s stash of thrift store clothing that we used for alien disguises.
“Just trying to fit in with the customers.” The Jeep jounced over the rocks in the logging road.
“How much farther, boy?” Tate was hunched over the steering wheel, scanning the forest.
“Almost there.” We were making much better time than I had last night. I turned back to Amy. “Sorry I missed our hike. It would have been a lot more fun than what I was doing, trust me.”
“No problem. I ended up taking a group o
f Tourists to a little outdoor concert at the park.” Amy gave me a wink. “Besides, there’s still a lot of summer left to hang out.”
The clearing popped hideously into view. “Here it is,” I called out.
“Whoa,” Tate said. “That is a big clearing, all right.”
“What happened to all of the trees?” Amy said.
“Scratchull was right—a mud slide must’ve swept through here at some point,” Tate said.
Amy was on the side of the Jeep nearest to the clearing. She hopped out of her seat and took a couple of steps toward it.
“Look out!” I yelled. I yanked off my seat belt and scrambled across her seat. I lunged out of the Jeep and grabbed her arm. “Don’t get too close.”
Tate walked around the Jeep and surveyed the ground. “This is the place you saw last night, huh?”
I thought so…but it sure didn’t feel the same. No dirt bubbles popped on the surface, and it was no longer shifting or moving at all.
Slowly, carefully, I approached the edge of the clearing with Amy and Tate watching. There was the proof—a few threads from Snarffle’s leash, wound around a low-hanging branch. “Yep,” I said. “This is the place.” But it certainly didn’t look like I had described it last night.
I bent down and scooped up a few rocks. I threw one out into the middle of the clearing and it bounced once before thudding to a rest on top of the ground. I fired rocks in all directions and got the same result everywhere. No splash and burble, no rocks sinking below the surface, no liquid earth.
Tate walked out to the clearing, right on top of the spot where I nearly drowned. He stamped his feet in a wide circle. “Ground’s a bit soft, but it looks okay to me, boy.”
Amy looked at me sadly. “Sorry, David.”
“It was different last night. I swear!”
“I believe you,” she said. “Sometimes the ground drains really fast up here, you know? All of that water funnels into creeks and heads down the mountain to the river.”
Alien on a Rampage Page 10
