Contents
* * *
Title Page
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Author’s Note
Build Your Own Survival Kit
Acknowledgments
Sample Chapter from DUST STORM!
Read More from the Survivor Diaries Series
Middle Grade Mania!
About the Author
Connect with HMH on Social Media
Text copyright © 2018 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company
Illustrations copyright © 2018 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company
All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to [email protected] or to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 3 Park Avenue, 19th Floor, New York, New York 10016.
hmhco.com
Illustrations by Jani Orban
Cover illustrations © 2018 by Owen Richardson
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Johnson, Terry Lynn, author. | Orban, Jani, illustrator.
Title: Lost! / by Terry Lynn Johnson ; illustrated by Jani Orban.
Description: Boston ; New York : Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, [2018] | Series: Survivor diaries | Summary: In an interview with a reporter, eleven-year-old Carter recounts his tale of survival with twelve-year-old Anna in the perilous jungles of Costa Rica. Includes a list of suvival kit items.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017010165 | ISBN 9780544971189 paper over board | ISBN 9781328519078 paperback
Subjects: | CYAC: Survival—Fiction. | Jungles—Fiction. | Costa Rica—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.J63835 Lo 2018 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017010165
eISBN 978-1-328-47673-9
v1.0618
For Christal, who got me out of that tree.
Chapter One
“Tell me, Carter. How did you survive being lost in the rainforest?” the reporter asked. He pressed Record on his phone.
I spun on my barstool and raised my arms out like a California condor. Or maybe a trumpeter swan would be more appropriate. They have the largest body mass of any North American bird.
“Did you talk with Anna?” I asked.
“I’ll be meeting with her tomorrow.” The reporter rolled up his sleeves and then produced a notepad and pen from his shirt pocket. “I want your version of what happened in Costa Rica,” he continued. “This interview is for the Survivor Diaries I’m writing. About kids like you making it out of life-threatening situations. You’re younger than Anna, only eleven years old, right?”
“Yeah—” I jumped at the squeal behind me, but it was just one of the little kids that Mom babysits.
Mom scooped her up. “Time for a nap, I think. I’ll be right back.” She headed for the stairs. I hoped she noticed I had only jumped a tiny bit.
Thinking back to my time in the jungle, I dried my palms across my red sweatpants. Red like the breast feathers of the resplendent quetzal. The bird that started it all. Adding that endangered bird to my life list—all the different bird species I’ve seen—nearly ended my life.
“All right.” The reporter rubbed his hairless head and then looked at me expectantly. “Tell me what happened.”
“The monkeys,” I began. “Their calls were so terrifying. Howler monkeys make such an eerie noise because of a bone they have in their throat. You can hear them three miles away. Did you know they’re the loudest of all the New World monkeys? That’s what freaked out Anna. They were leaping overhead. The branches of the trees shook all around us. We could hear the roaring, coming closer—”
“What monkeys?” The reporter’s long forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Carter, start at the beginning.”
I sighed. “It all started with licking an ancient statue.”
Chapter Two
Six weeks earlier. Osa Peninsula, Costa Rica.
Dad had suggested I hang out with Anna. Her family was also staying at Cabinas el Corcovado for March break. He thought it would be good for me to hang around someone my own age. Except Anna was in seventh grade, and I was as tall as her armpit, even wearing hiking boots. She’d never talk to someone like me if we were at school.
“Hey, this looks interesting.” Anna pointed to a trail marked by a fading sign with the word CASCADA. It had a photo of a waterfall with a carved stone statue of a monster next to it. “What is this thing?”
“La Mona.” I read the words on the fence with a big arrow.
“Oh, I know that one!” she said. “That’s the monkey-witch legend. She roams the forests in search of her missing kids and kills victims with bloodcurdling screams from the treetops.”
Anna’s family had been there a few days before we arrived, so she felt the need to educate me with all sorts of local legends she’d heard. They weren’t even birders; they just came to relax.
My parents and I were there to see the resplendent quetzal. The Osa Peninsula had four hundred species of birds. Since we’d arrived in Costa Rica, we’d added the summer tanager, social flycatcher, bare-throated tiger-heron, and cinnamon hummingbird to our life lists. And there at the resort we’d seen a chestnut-mandibled toucan, and lots of scarlet macaws. Still no quetzals.
“The parental units are still busy with happy hour,” Anna said. “We’ve got time before dinner. You want to do some exploring? Let’s go see the waterfall! Legend has it, if you lick the statue there, you’re blessed with strength. Don’t you need some of that, Carter?”
“Lick the statue?” I asked. “Do you think you should be licking anything? They’ve got poison dart frogs here. They’re one of the Earth’s most toxic species. They have enough poison to kill twenty thousand mice!”
She stared at me.
“What?” I said, defensively.
“So weird,” Anna muttered as she started down the trail. “Hey!” She ducked behind the fence post and came up brandishing a machete with a black handle. “Look what I found!” She gave it a few practice swings. “This thing is deadly. Someone must’ve left it here for protection against La Mona. Come on! Let’s go before it gets too dark to find the statue.”
I knew the part about licking the statue wasn’t true. I’d never heard of that, not in any of the guidebooks I read before our trip. Anna had to be making it up.
But what if she wasn’t? What if it did give you strength?
I clutched the binoculars around my neck and glanced toward the resort. A burst of laughter came from the pool. My parents never worried about me. I worried enough for everyone.
“Carter, you coming?”
I peered into the branches and imagined all the horrible things that could go wrong by following a marked trail into the jungle. I was shaking my head to refuse, when I saw it. I froze.
“What?” Anna asked, looking in the direction I was facing. But she didn’t see the male resplendent quetzal until I raised a shaking hand and pointed.
“Three hundred and eight,” I whispered.
“Huh?”
“That’s how many different bird species I have on my life list,” I said.
The quetzal was perched not far off the trail. Through my binoculars, he was even more brilliant than in pictures. His bright red belly was set off by the intense green glitter of his head and neck. I c
ould pick out the sheen of blue and violet in his long tail.
“The quetzal was the spiritual protector of Mayan chiefs, helping them in battle,” I said, eager to share the only legend I knew. “They say the quetzal sat on the chest of the dying warrior Uman and dipped its feathers in his blood. That’s how it got the red.” I wiped at the sweat running into my eyes. “Now it’s endangered because of losing its habitat.”
Anna didn’t seem impressed. “Monkey statue that makes you strong is way more interesting.”
“How could that be more interesting than finding an endangered bird?” And I didn’t know why she was so interested in strength. I’d watched her pick up her dad in a piggyback race we had last night. She was taller and stronger than any girl I’d ever met.
The quetzal jumped off the branch and flew down the trail. I followed after it. Anna hacked at every plant unfortunate enough to be within striking distance of her machete.
“Watch where you swing that,” I couldn’t help saying. “The first rule of the rainforest is never touch before you can see. There are all sorts of dangerous things hiding in the leaves, like bushmasters.”
“What’s a bushmaster?” Anna asked. “They sound awesome.”
“Bushmasters are venomous snakes. But the bigger threat is the fer-de-lance. They’re extremely aggressive. Half of all snake bites are from the fer-de-lance, and they could be hiding anywhere.”
When I noticed how far we’d come down the trail, I felt the familiar sensation of my heart racing, of my pulse speeding. I tried to control my breathing and think of something else. I did not have time for a panic attack.
Anna pretended to cough, and I heard the words, “Nerd alert.” Then she began to flail her arms around, swatting at something near her head. She whipped a can of insect repellent from her pocket and sprayed the air furiously.
“I hate bugs,” she said. “Why do you know all this stuff, anyway?”
“I read about it before we got here,” I said. What I didn’t explain was why. I didn’t want to tell her how I had what my doctor called anxiety. And how I’d found the only way to control my attacks was to read as much as I could and be prepared, so I didn’t worry about all the disasters waiting to happen.
The sound of running water got our attention. “The falls!” Anna announced.
The falls weren’t that remarkable, more like a feeble cascade spilling over a log and pooling in a stream next to the trail. And beside the trail was a statue of a crouching stone monkey. It wasn’t as big as it had appeared in the photo. It was just a lump of greenish carved rock with moss or something growing on its head. It did not look like anyone should lick it.
Anna raced up to it first. I thought for sure she was just going to make me do it and then laugh at how dumb I was.
“Don’t,” I said, as she stuck her tongue out and dragged it across the statue.
She flexed her arms. “Your turn.” She made a face, spat something out, and then patted the stone head. “Gritty.”
My guts tightened. Now I had to do it.
I bent my head. The green parts did not look safe. Anna watched as I rubbed a spot clean on its shoulder, and then quickly touched it with my tongue. I wiped my tongue off with my finger and then raised my arms in triumph, proud of myself. Sadly, I did not feel any stronger.
That was when I realized how dark it was getting. With the canopy of the forest, not much sun trickled through. The trees had vines and strange things hanging off them that looked creepier and thicker the darker it got.
Anna seemed to notice at the same time. “We should head back,” she said.
But just as we turned, we heard a terrifying noise. It sounded like a lion’s roar or a grizzly bear about to charge.
Chapter Three
The trees and branches above us came to life. With all that noise, I expected to see something huge emerge. But it was all coming from small animals with black furry bodies. They howled at us while leaping from branch to branch, shaking the leaves.
Anna let out a scream and then dove off the trail. She started lurching forward through the brush of the jungle.
“No!” I ran after her, my heart crashing in terror at this disaster. “It’s just—”
Anna screamed as a seed ball hit her in the back. More things rained down, making us cover our heads as we ran. I didn’t know what was being thrown at us.
“She’s coming for us,” Anna was shrieking. “La Mona!”
I had to stop her!
Branches smacked me in the face. We darted this way and that, zigzagging through the openings between the trees. The monkeys chased us the whole time, shrieking, howling, shaking branches. It was like being in a Jurassic Park movie.
A leafy twig hurtled from above and landed on Anna’s head. She went nuts, screeching and stamping her feet. The branch ripped away, and she sprinted again.
“Stop! Wait!”
Finally, she slowed down. We stood together panting, our chests heaving. Anna was soaked in sweat. Her blond hair was dark at the ends and stuck to her face.
“Never run in the jungle!” I yelled.
“What was that?” Anna asked.
“I tried to tell you,” I gasped, catching my breath in the muggy heat. “They were just howler monkeys. We don’t have to be afraid of monkeys.”
We jumped at the horrifying noise right above us. Dark shapes shook the branches. Their howls reverberated through my bones. They filled the whole world with their deafening calls.
My skin prickled as they finally moved away and left us alone.
Anna peered up at the canopy. “I thought it was La Mona from that stupid story at first. But then I thought it was jaguars.”
“We don’t have to be afraid of jaguars either. The creatures to fear in the rainforest are venomous snakes and spiders. The way to avoid them is never run through the jungle.”
Now that the risk of immediate death was over, the tension in me started to drain. I looked around at the unfriendly jungle and realized we were far from the trail. “Uh, do you know which way we came?”
Anna pointed, and I followed her for a while, weaving in and out of skinny trees, brushing aside dangling vines. I stepped into a spiderweb—its sticky threads clinging to my face nearly sent me into a full-blown panic attack.
Not a funnel-web spider. Not going to die horribly. I’m good. I let out a deep breath.
We walked past tall roots that grew like snaking eels, anchoring one giant tree from all sides. Smaller roots twisted across the ground in front of us.
“Don’t step over roots, step on them,” I reminded her. “So you don’t surprise a snake.”
Anna gave a root a whack with her machete. Suddenly she stopped, looked around, and headed in a different direction.
The worry churning my guts intensified. “Anna, stop. Listen to me. Do you know where we are? Do you know where the trail is?”
She definitely seemed nervous now. “I thought it was right here.”
“You mean we’re lost?” I said.
The distant calls of howler monkeys shook the jungle.
Chapter Four
“We have to stop,” I said, panic rising. “If you get lost, you should stay where you are—S. T. O. P. means you should stop, think, observe, and plan. They’ll be looking for us at the resort.” I didn’t know if I was reassuring Anna or myself. “If we stay here, they can probably track us.”
“No way,” Anna argued. “We’re in the middle of the jungle. They’ll never find us here. We have to keep going while we still have enough light to see.” She pulled the loose hair off the back of her neck. “I’m older than you. I make the decisions. And I’m thirsty. We should see if we can find those falls again.”
“Anna, listen to me,” I said.
“I just want to be back at the resort.” Anna wiped her forehead unhappily. She cupped a hand around her mouth and yelled, “Hey! Anyone? Can anyone hear us? We’re in here!”
“Helloooooo!” I yelled.
We listened a moment, but heard no response.
The heat and humidity in the air was like a pulsing, living thing. You could almost touch it. And we were soaked with sweat from all of the running. I was thankful my long-sleeved shirt kept the sharp branches from scraping me, but it clung to my arms. My pants stuck to my legs.
“The waterfall was around here somewhere. We should be able to find that stream,” Anna said.
Her face was red and shiny. She continued walking, and I followed, but it was getting harder to see ahead. Our situation was spiraling out of my control. My hands started to shake.
“We can’t keep going,” I said again, slapping at a mosquito tickling my neck. “We should stop and make a fire so they can find us.”
I took out the kit I always carried in my pocket in a Ziploc. Just holding it settled me. Anna watched. “What is that?”
“I made this for emergencies,” I explained.
This one little thing was the reason I was able to go anywhere. Before I’d made the kit, I could barely leave the house. I kept imagining getting lost, being mugged, kidnapped. But my number one fear was being caught in a hurricane. As soon as I grew up, I was moving from Fort Meyers. Why would anyone want to live where spiraling winds up to two hundred miles an hour could bring a storm surge that would wipe out your neighborhood?
“With this kit,” I said, “I’ve planned for every possible emergency. Fire starter, aluminum foil square, ground tarp, multitool, sewing kit, duct tape, signal mirror, micro flashlight, bandages, antiseptic towelette, emergency whistle, water purification tablet.”
“All that is crammed in there?” Anna asked.
“Yup. And I’m wearing my paracord bracelet.” I pointed at the dark green bracelet I’d made myself. “We’re going to be okay.”
I scanned the area around us as I popped open the Ziploc to find the flashlight. “We can try to clear the brush and make a fire here. Start building a shelter. We just have to find a water source to—”
Lost! Page 1
