“It’s all right,” said Peggy. “Professor Wogglebug was out there with me. Oh, wait, don’t tell anybody that.”
Oh, jeez! thought Roger. He looked around for a clear spot in the trees above in case he had to fly out dodging a bunch of bullets.
“That’s nice, honey,” said Peggy’s mother distractedly. “But I thought Ozma was your favorite from your books. Are you sure it wasn’t her?”
“That’s silly, Mommy,” said Peggy, laughing. “Ozma isn’t a big bug!”
Roger breathed a quiet sigh of relief through his spiracles and quietly snuck away to the other side of the island again.
Roger nervously watched the water quietly covering a little bit more of the shore every minute. If Peggy was right, pretty soon the campers would be moving to the middle of the island, a lot closer to where he was now. He probably couldn’t stay down here on the ground much longer.
The middle of the island wasn’t that much higher than the edge, and if the river kept rising, he didn’t know how long it would be before the whole island would be under water. What would Peggy and the others do then? Climb trees? Roger didn’t think the water would get high enough to cover the trees completely, but how long could a person stay in a tree? Especially little kids? Then what? He dipped a tarsus in the water. It was really cold. The river was moving slowly, but nobody would be swimming very far through that. Especially Peggy.
Did he have time to fly all those miles back home and get help? He didn’t have a clue. What if he guessed wrong?
Roger started scraping his forearms together, then stopped himself before he made a noise. He was sure he was messing this whole mission up and wished Marlene and Jerry were there. Marlene was so smart, and Jerry was creative and invented things. They’d probably solve this problem easily. Right then Roger was feeling pretty stupid, even if Peggy thought he was a professor. On top of that, he was hungry.
Why didn’t those dumb campers have a boat or a raft or something?
Wait! A boat! Roger moved into the open, spread his wings, and took off.
Higher and higher he rose, until he could see miles of the river winding away to the north and south. Where had he been when he’d spotted those cabins? There! The cabins had been by that one long straight part of the river, not too far upstream from the island. It wasn’t very far at all just following the river north. It had been a lot farther before when he’d been following the long back-and-forth search path between the cabins and the island.
In a few minutes the cabins came into view below, and Roger focused on the ones with docks poking out into the river. There! One of them had a boat tied to the dock!
Chapter Twenty-Six
Roger landed on the riverbank, keeping the trees between him and the cabin up the hill. He was pretty sure the cabin was empty, but he’d had guns on his mind for a while now. If I really was a super hero, he thought, bullets would bounce off me. I’m pretty darn sure they wouldn’t.
He moved carefully toward the cabin. Nothing happened. He banged on the door and then ran for the bushes like a kid playing a joke. Nobody answered. Roger was kind of relieved. He had no idea what he would have done if somebody had actually come to the door. Hey mister, can I borrow a cup of sugar? It’s for my ant!
Roger chuckled as he went down to the dock. Whoever had built the cabin and the dock must have expected floods. The cabin was way up the hill, and while a lot of trees by the riverbank were already far into the water, the dock and the boat tied to it were still high and dry. Roger noticed that the dock was on floats, like a square raft, with a long ramp leading down to it. The ramp was hinged on both ends so the floating part, and the boat tied to it, could go up and down with the river level. It’s almost like something Jerry would have invented, he thought.
Roger stopped admiring the dock and walked down the ramp to look at the boat. It was a large rowboat made of aluminum, with four flat seats, two long oars lying in the bottom, and an empty motor mount. It would be more than big enough for all the campers. He’d already resolved to borrow it for a while. This was an emergency, and he’d bring it back when he was done. Somehow.
Then it occurred to Roger. How was he going to get the boat to the island in the first place? He didn’t think he could carry it while flying, but he gave it a try anyway. Without cutting the boat loose from the dock, Roger grappled the boat’s gunwales with all four back legs and tried to lift it out of the water, his wings droning like an airplane propeller. He actually got it a few inches out of the water and then had to drop it. Whatever it weighed, it was a heck of a lot heavier than two kids had been.
“Rats,” said Roger. “Now what?” Well, there was really only one other choice. He snapped the tie rope with his claws, right next to where it was tied to the dock. Then he grabbed the loose end of the rope with the claws of his hind foot and took off downstream, flying only a few feet over the water and dragging the empty boat behind him. The boat splashed and jerked if he started going too fast, but soon he found a speed that wasn’t too slow but didn’t make the boat almost flip over.
Roger tried not to think about what would happen if he lost control and fell into the river. He’d been a fairly good swimmer as a human, but he hadn’t gotten into the water since he’d turned into a mantis. A human breathes from his head, which usually sticks out of the water while swimming. As a mantis, he breathed through spiracles in his butt. Abdomen. Butt or abdomen, his air holes would be underwater if he fell in.
Roger had no idea how to hold his ‘breath’ with spiracles, or how his stick-like legs would work treading water. He really, really didn’t want to find any of that out the hard way.
Roger figured it took about twenty minutes to drag the boat back to the island. Spotting the island ahead, Roger slowed and scanned the shore for the campers. When he didn’t see anyone, he moved around toward the upstream side of the island. Once there, Roger worked the boat between the sunken trees, climbing on to their trunks and pulling the rope, and finally dragged the boat up onto the solid ground of the still-shrinking island. It was very hard to do this quietly with a metal boat. He dragged it another five yards inland and then wrapped the rope end around a tree. Roger had no clue how to tie a decent knot with his tarsi, and he wasn’t going to try.
Then he crept quietly toward the middle of the island until he heard voices again and saw the glowing shapes of the people and the lantern light between the trees.
“Okay, I’ve hauled our tents and things up this tree as far as I can.” That was Peggy’s father. “Now we just wait. Maybe the water will start dropping again. Otherwise … ”
“Yeah. We start climbing.” That was Mr. Curry’s voice. He must have given up yelling for help.
“I’m open for any other suggestions, Hank.” It sounded like Mr. Curry was really getting on Peggy’s father’s nerves.
“Can’t we build a raft or something? There’s trees everywhere.” That higher voice had to be the boy. A raft sounded like a darned good idea to Roger, and he wondered why nobody had thought of it before he had to go hauling a stupid boat all over the place.
“No axe, son,” said Mr. Curry.
Oh, thought Roger. He lowered his head and moved closer until he found another bush where he could watch the campers unseen.
The adults were standing in a group. Peggy and the boy were in a large tree nearby with low branches, climbing up and down. At least the kids thought this was fun.
Now what? thought Roger. It looked like he’d have to reveal himself to tell them about the boat. Maybe all their guns were up the tree. But what if one of them had a pistol in his pocket or something?
“Hi, Professor Wogglebug!”
If Roger had been built for it, he would have wet himself. As it was, it was all he could do to keep from busting into a mantis threat display. He looked up. Peggy was partway up the tree, waving at him. From where she was, she could see right over the low bush that was hiding Roger from everyone else. Thank good
ness the boy was still down at the bottom of the tree.
“Let us know if you see the Gump anywhere, honey!” her mother shouted up at her. “That’s who we really need.”
“Okay, Mommy!” Peggy looked back to where Roger had started backing into the woods, holding a tarsus finger up to his mouth in a “shush!” expression. Peggy’s eyes widened, she grinned, raised her finger, and made a “shush” back at him. Then she actually winked at him. Roger couldn’t wink one eye properly until he was almost nine years old, and now he couldn’t wink at all.
Roger looked around and then waved a claw to beckon Peggy. He didn’t think she could sneak out again to talk to him without making her parents suspicious, but he didn’t have any better ideas. The little girl started scrambling down the tree. Roger got ready to run or fly if he had to. Maybe if they chased him he could at least lead them to the boat before they plugged him.
“Mommy, I have to go potty again,” said Peggy.
“You had to give her more juice,” said her father, sighing.
“She was thirsty. I’ll go with you this time, honey,” said her mother.
“Mommy! I can’t go if someone’s watching!”
“So when did this happen?” her mother asked. “You picked a heck of a time to start getting grown up. Okay. Over there in the bushes, but no farther! I don’t want you anywhere near the water!”
Smart kid! thought Roger, listening.
Peggy trotted behind the bushes with her flashlight and waved it around until the light hit Roger, who was hiding back in the trees.
She came up to him and whispered, “I don’t really have to go potty, you know. It’s just a trick.”
“It’s a good one,” said Roger, keeping his buzzy voice as low as he could. “I’ve got a surprise. I brought a boat for you.”
“Where?” she asked, looking behind him as though Roger would have it on his back or something.
“Tell your Daddy it’s tied to a tree on the north side of the island. The upstream side. Can you remember all that?”
“North side. Like North Pole,” said Peggy.
“Good enough,” said Roger. “I’ve got to go. You’re a smart girl.”
“Thank you Professor Wogglebug,” whispered Peggy. “I’d better get back, now.”
She ran back toward her family, and Roger waited to hear what would happen.
“Daddy! Professor Wogglebug says there’s a boat tied to the North Pole of the island!”
“That’s nice, Peggy,” said her father.
“You have to come look. Upstream side! That’s the other part I was supposed to remember.”
“Honey, we’re busy,” said her mother. “Why not try climbing that tree again?”
“Mommy! You hafta come look! Now!”
“Peggy … ” said her father sternly.
Roger heard a growling, whining noise. Was that from Peggy?
“Don,” said Peggy’s mother, “she’s going to work herself into one of her first class temper tantrums, as if we don’t have enough to worry about. Just go with her long enough to make her happy, okay?”
“Go find the boat from Oz, Don,” laughed Mr. Curry.
“Daddy! Now!”
“All right, all right. Upstream would be … this way.”
Aw, jeez, here they come! thought Roger. In a panic, he scrambled up a tall tree and hid himself in the thick piney branches before he realized what he’d done. Apparently climbing a tree was as easy for him as climbing a gym rope or a Ferris wheel.
From there, he watched Peggy and her father, carrying one of the lanterns, heading to where he’d tied up the boat, also visible from his treetop hiding place.
Roger saw Peggy’s father stop short as he saw the boat. Then Peggy’s father said some very bad words, very loudly.
“Daddy!” said Peggy, scandalized.
“Everybody!” shouted Peggy’s father. “Come over here right now!”
In a few minutes, the campers were gathered around the boat.
“You know, Don,” said Mr. Curry. “It would have been really nice if you’d found this sooner.”
“It wasn’t here before, I swear to God! I went over this island before sundown with a fine-toothed comb! Maybe it drifted here!”
“Don,” said Mr. Curry, “the rope is wrapped tight around this tree.”
“The boat’s here now, Hank,” said a quiet, soothing voice Roger hadn’t heard before. That must be Mrs. Curry. “Let’s just get our things and go.”
“Okay, dear,” said Mr. Curry. “It is a good boat. It’ll take all of us and our stuff, and the current is still slow. We can row to shore easy, especially if we head downstream.”
“Then we can just walk back to the car, right?” said the boy.
“Right, son,” said Mr. Curry.
“Let’s get back and get our equipment out of the trees,” said Peggy’s father. “And hurry! I don’t know how much time we’ve got.”
“Works for me,” said Mr. Curry.
From his treetop, Roger watched with growing relief as the two families made preparations, dragged their gear and the boat to the water, and got in. The two men guided the boat between the drowned trees (more easily than Roger had accomplished it) until they got to open water. Then Mr. Curry grabbed the oars and started rowing swiftly, big arms pumping efficiently. When they had rowed far enough away so they couldn’t see him in the dark, Roger climbed further up the tree, spread his wings, and took off. His sensitive hearing picked up one last comment from the boat as he climbed into the sky.
“You hear that noise?” said Mr. Curry. “I’ve been hearing that dang buzzing all night. Stupid cicadas!”
Roger hovered for a while, high above, watching the campers until they reached the riverbank, dragged the boat up on the shore, and got back to their car. When the car was headed safely back down the old camp road, Roger dropped down to take the boat back to its owner.
Roger dragged the boat upstream again, past the island (still getting smaller), and back to the dock the same way he had before, flying low and holding the rope. Then he worried that if he just wrapped the rope around the post on the dock it would come loose and the boat would drift clear out to the ocean. Roger finally settled for wrapping the rope around the dock post and then dragging the boat up on the dock itself. It was the best he could do. If a windstorm or something blows it back off into the water, he thought, the heck with it!
Then he flew straight for Highland Falls and home. For the first time as a mantis, he was physically exhausted. Also starving, and his brain felt very tired. But after a really crappy day, he’d gone out and saved some people, including a cool little kid.
Right now I actually feel pretty darn good.
He landed downtown first and found Sheriff Johnson still making calls. The sheriff was delighted that Roger had found the campers safe.
“I don’t know where they’re driving to,” said Roger. “I didn’t follow them very far. None of them saw me. Well, except Peggy, and she thought I was from Oz or something.”
“Hah! That sounds like her,” said the sheriff. “Don’t worry. They’ll get in touch with somebody sooner or later.”
He looked at Roger, who was sagging. “You look beat, son,” he said. “Fill me in on the rest of the details another time. Go hit the sack.” Roger turned gratefully to go. The sheriff called after him. “You did some fine work tonight, Roger. My team isn’t going to forget it. Neither will I. I’ll be in touch.”
Roger left the station and took off into the night sky for home. He really, really needed something to eat, and to get to bed.
When Roger got home he came in the door and headed straight for the refrigerator. His parents were sitting at the kitchen table in pajamas and bathrobes. Lou shot out from under the table when Roger came in and eagerly bounced as Roger opened the fridge and searched the shelves inside.
“The sheriff called,” said his mother. “He said you were all
right, and so was the family.” she didn’t get up, but her eyes scanned over him. She was still keeping an eye out for any problems.
“I’m okay,” said Roger, “but I’m starving.” He hauled out almost every cold cut and all the leftover roast beef in the fridge, shuttled it over to the table, and started gobbling it all down.
“So, tell us how it went,” said his father.
“They were on an island,” said Roger. He didn’t stop eating, but he didn’t need his mouth for talking either. “I snuck up on them. Nobody saw me except a little girl, and she thought I was someone else.”
“Someone else?” said his father. “What, like some other giant mantis?”
“Long story,” said Roger. “Not too sure about it myself. Dad! I did a search grid! I can’t wait to tell Jerry.”
“Roger,” said his mother, “it’s just a little unnerving having you talk and eat at the same time. It’s like having a conversation with someone who’s standing hidden behind a ravenous mantis.”
“Oh, sorry, Mom,” said Roger. He stopped eating for a moment, a big piece of roast still impaled on the end of one big claw. “Anyway, I managed to get them a little boat without being seen by anyone else. Or shot at. Man, it’s good to be home. I’ve been flying, like, forever!” He put the roast to his mouth and started chewing on it again. He saw his mother wince very slightly. Most people still didn’t think watching him eat was very appetizing.
“You can tell us more in the morning, son,” said his father. “We’re glad you’re home safe, and we’re very proud of you.”
“We certainly are,” said his mother, smiling. They both got up and headed out of the kitchen.
“G’night Mom, Dad,” said Roger, as he settled in to some undisturbed ravaging of the grocery bill. Lou sat patiently by the table, tongue out, looking at the feast. It was going to be a good night for him, too.
In bed that night, comfortably stuffed, Roger lay there and thought for a while. I’ll be in touch, the sheriff had said. Could that mean he might get sent on more rescue missions? Okay, baseball was fun, and being a mascot had been fun. But saving people … that was important.
Roger Mantis Page 17
