by Perrin Briar
“Where’s Beauty going?” Francis said.
“Home,” Fritz said, wiping a tear from his eye. “She’s going home.”
Seventeen
Bill finished writing his journal entry and sat with his sons at the breakfast table. Sunlight spilled through the porthole windows and swing doors, but the space was still a little dark.
“I’m honestly not hungry,” Fritz said, taking a seat at the breakfast table. “I’m still full from last night.”
Liz stood at the oven frying bacon in a pan.
“Try to eat something,” she said. “It’s going to be a long day. Where’s Jack and Ernest?”
“Probably still asleep,” Fritz said. “You know what they’re like.”
Bill got up and moved to the swing doors.
“They need to get up soon,” he said. “We’ve got a lot to do.”
Across the way in the boys’ treehouse, Ernest approached the winch.
“Ernest!” Bill said.
“What?” Ernest said.
“Can you wake Jack up? We need to eat breakfast and get to work.”
Ernest disappeared inside the treehouse. Liz spooned some crispy bacon onto a plate and put it in the centre of the table. Francis reached over and took a few slices.
“You’re an animal,” Fritz said.
Francis shrugged.
“I’m hungry,” he said.
Ernest appeared in the doorway across the way.
“He’s not here,” Ernest said.
“What?” Bill said. “Then where is he?”
Ernest shrugged.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Ernest strapped himself into the winch and eased himself down to the ground. Bill turned to the others.
“Jack isn’t in his bed,” he said.
“What?” Fritz said. “Then where is he?”
“Think carefully,” Bill said. “Did you see Jack go to bed last night?”
“Yes,” Fritz said. “If he’s not there now, he must have left early this morning.”
Liz and Bill shared a concerned expression. Ernest stepped off the winch and into Falcon’s Nest.
“He’s probably just out climbing somewhere,” Ernest said. “You know what he’s like.”
The winch creaked as someone wound their way up. Jack stepped into the treehouse.
“Jack!” Liz said. “Where have you been?”
“I went to go check on the traps,” he said.
“You what?” Liz said.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I kept to the trees, but I found-”
“Jack, you are never ever to go near the traps by yourself,” Bill said. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, but-”
“You could have hurt yourself!” Liz said.
“Will you two be quiet for a minute?” Ernest said. “Jack wants to say something.”
Liz folded her arms and turned to Jack.
“Well?” she said.
“I woke up this morning and couldn’t get back to sleep,” Jack said, “so I went to go check up on the traps. And when I got there I saw two of them had been set off.”
Liz looked at Bill.
“I thought they weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow?” she said.
“They shouldn’t be,” Bill said.
He turned to Jack.
“Did you see what was inside the traps?” he said.
Jack shook his head.
“No,” he said. “I rushed here as fast as I could to tell you.”
“We’d best go take a look then, hadn’t we?” Ernest said.
“After breakfast,” Liz said.
Besides Francis, nobody ate.
Eighteen
Bill pushed the foliage aside and looked out at the open space. A bird flittered to a tree and perched on a net full of coconuts. It lifted its wing and groomed itself. One trap had been set off in the middle of the assault course, another at the far end.
“Fritz, Ernest, with me,” Bill said.
“I’m coming too,” Jack said. “I was the one who found it.”
“I’m coming too,” Liz said.
“And me!” Francis said.
“All right,” Bill said. “Everyone just watch your step.”
The Robinsons stepped out into the clearing and edged their way around the covered holes. They got to the one uncovered in the centre. They heard the frantic buzzing of flies before they saw what was inside. It was a wild pig, the sharpened spikes jutting up through its body. Francis’s stomach heaved.
“I’m gonna be sick,” he said. “I’ll never eat bacon again.”
“We’d best cover the hole over again,” Bill said.
“No, wait,” Ernest said. “I have an idea. Dad, give me your machete.”
He did.
“Fritz,” Ernest said, “lower me into the hole.”
“What for?” Fritz said.
“Just do it, will you.”
Fritz lowered Ernest into the hole. Ernest stepped with his feet over the upraised spikes and batted away the flies with his hand. He hacked at the joint of the pig’s back leg. Once it was off he raised it up for Fritz to take.
“Thanks, Ern,” Fritz said. “But my birthday was a few months ago.”
“Give it to Jack,” Ernest said. “Jack, can you-?”
“I know what to do,” Jack said.
Jack took off up a tree. Ernest watched and waited with a smile on his face. Jack made it to a branch twenty feet up and crawled along it.
“Is anyone else confused?” Liz said.
“Categorically,” Fritz said.
“Watch,” Ernest said.
Jack pulled a vine free from the branch, held it taut, took the knife he kept in his back pocket and cut the vine. Then he tied the pig leg to the vine and lowered it down over the hole. A smile spread across Bill and Liz’s faces.
“Where do you want it, Ern?” Jack said.
“A little lower,” Ernest said. “That’s it. Perfect. Well done, Jack.”
Ernest turned back to the others.
“Well?” he said.
“‘Well’ what?” Fritz said. “What use is the meat up there?”
“Think like a Lurcher,” Ernest said. “The holes don’t have to kill them all, just hold them in place.”
Fritz began to smile.
“Ern,” he said, “if I’ve never said it before, let me say it now: You’re a genius.”
“I think you might have just given us the edge,” Bill said.
“Don’t thank me,” Ernest said. “Jack did all the hard work.”
“Climbing’s easy,” Jack said, making his way down the tree. “Thinking’s hard.”
They moved to the second trap that had been set off. When Francis peered over the edge and looked inside it, he started crying. There was a roar that shook everyone to their bones.
“It’s a tiger!” Jack said.
“I didn’t even know there was one on the island!” Ernest said.
Bill turned pale.
“After all these months,” he said. “That beast could have fallen on us at any moment…”
“But it didn’t,” Liz said. “Now it’s going to aid us against the undead.”
The tiger had knocked most of the upturned stakes aside and now paced up and down inside the hole, as if impatient to be set free.
“Do you suppose he was chasing the pig?” Jack said.
“Most likely,” Bill said.
“What shall we do?” Fritz said.
“Nothing. We’ll just cover the trap.”
Fritz rubbed his hands together.
“The Lurchers are in for a surprise!” he said.
“I’m not sure if they can feel surprise,” Bill said, “but I’m certainly looking forward to seeing what he does to them.”
They pulled some fresh leaves from the foliage and covered the hole.
“What shall we get working on today, Dad?” Fritz said.
“Fritz,” Bill said, “you s
how Francis how to set snares, and set them up around the Falcon and Robin’s Nest. They’ll be our last line of defence. And keep an ear out for the bells. When they start ringing, you come running.”
Fritz took Francis by the hand and led him away.
“Ernest,” Bill said, “you use the machete and hack up the rest of the pig. Give the pieces to Jack to attach to the vines. After you’ve finished, make more of these coconut contraptions.”
“Will do,” Ernest said. “Come on, Jack.”
“And what are we going to do?” Liz said.
Bill’s eyes shone.
“You’re going to help me make the most devastating trap of all,” he said.
“You big romantic.”
Nineteen
Bill and Liz chopped down a narrow tree and stripped away all the branches. Bill used the axe to make an indentation along the log lengthways. Then they tied a vine around each end of the trunk. Bill attached the vines to an arrow and then shot it over a tree branch. He retrieved the vines and tied them to Lightfoot. Bill eased the donkey forward. The trunk rose five and a half feet in the air. Then they reattached the vines to the trunk. A gentle push on it made it rock side to side like a pendulum.
“Nice of you to make us a swing,” Liz said. “What’s it for?”
“It’s a beheader,” Bill said. “My own design.”
He picked up a bag that clattered like it was full of glass. He reached in and brought out a black shiny rock. It had been shaped into a long, flat ruler with a razor sharp edge.
“It’s obsidian,” Bill said. “I was shaping them into knives to give you as an anniversary present. But needs must.”
Bill jammed the knife blade lengthwise into the indentation, forming a blade.
“The Lurchers come,” he said, “we release the log, it severs their necks, crushes their heads, or knocks them into a pit. And after it swings, we can pull the vine back so the log can swing again.”
“Wonderful,” Liz said. “Fun for all the family.”
“Come on,” Bill said. “Give me a hand making another one.”
“I need to go make lunch,” Liz said. “I’ll get Fritz to help you.”
“Don’t make anything too heavy,” Bill said. “We’re going to see a lot of horrible things today. Best if it doesn’t all come back up.”
Twenty
“Good work, Francis,” Fritz said, checking his snare.
Fritz set it down on the ground and got to his feet. The courtyard between the two treehouses was thick with snares and traps.
“No one’s getting through this lot in one piece,” Fritz said.
“Are the bad men really bad?” Francis said with all the curiosity of an eight year old.
“Yes,” Fritz said. “And no. You see, they’re not deliberately bad, they’re just bad by nature. I’m sure if they could choose, most of them would be good.”
“But people aren’t always good. Miss Anliker, the school principal, she wasn’t good.”
“True. Maybe she was a bad man in disguise.”
Francis frowned with thought.
“She was a vegetarian,” he said. “She must have been pretending. She was a bad man!”
“Fritz,” Liz said, stepping onto the courtyard, “your father needs your help.”
“All right,” Fritz said.
He turned to Francis and held up his hand.
“Good work,” he said. “High five!”
Francis jumped and high fived Fritz’s hand. Fritz left.
“What do you think of our snares, Mum?” Francis said.
“They’re great,” Liz said. “I feel safer already. Come on, let’s go inside. You can help me make lunch.”
Tring-a-ling!
Liz’s head jerked up at the first bell. It came to a stop. Liz listened for more, but there was nothing but silence. Liz took a deep breath and took a step toward Falcon’s Nest.
Tring-a-ling! the first bell went again. Liz bent down to Francis.
“Francis,” she said, “I need you to stay and guard our home, okay?”
“But I thought we were going to make lunch?” Francis said.
Tring-a-ling! the second bell went.
“We’ll make it later,” Liz said. “Right now we’ve got a few things to do. I want you to go into the treehouse and wait there, okay?”
Tring-a-ling! the first and second bells went. The first bell paused for a second between each ring.
“But I want to go out and fight with you,” Francis said.
“You are fighting,” Liz said. “You’re defending our home. You must make sure none of the Lurchers get in while we’re away. Okay?”
Francis nodded.
“Okay,” he said.
“Promise me you won’t go anywhere.”
“I promise.”
“Pinky promise me.”
Liz extended her little finger, and Francis wrapped his own around hers. She lifted him up in her arms, held him tight and kissed him on the cheek.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too, Momma.”
Liz’s tears stung her eyes.
“I’ll be right back,” she said.
Tring-a-ling! Liz looked up at the bells. The first bell rattled and rang, flying wildly side to side, never stopping. The second bell rang almost as frequently.
Tring-a-ling! the third bell rang. Liz turned and ran into the jungle.
Twenty-One
Bill and Fritz had just felled another tree by the time Liz rounded the corner.
“They’re coming!” Liz said.
“Who’s coming?” Bill said.
“My parents. Who do you think?”
Bill looked over at their traps.
“But we’re not ready,” he said.
“What’ll we do?” Liz said.
“When did the bells start ringing?”
“About five minutes ago.”
“Then we have about twenty or thirty minutes before they get here.”
Bill punched a tree.
“Crap!” he said. “We need more time.”
“How much longer do we need?” Liz said.
“I don’t know. Thirty minutes. An hour. The longer the better.”
Liz hopped onto Lightfoot’s back.
“Then you keep building,” she said.
Bill stepped in front of the donkey.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he said.
“To give you your extra time,” Liz said.
Bill shook his head.
“We’ll head for the boat and get out of here,” he said.
“No. We’re fighting. And somebody has to do this. You’re better at building than me. Do you really want one of the boys to do it?”
Bill thought for a moment, then stepped aside. Liz pulled up next to him, leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.
“I love you,” Bill said.
“And you always will,” Liz said. “Now, get back to work, slacker.”
She turned toward the jungle with a determined look in her eye.
“Giddyup!” she said.
The donkey sprang into a sedate pace. Bill’s heart swelled with equal parts pride and concern as his beloved rode with a distinct lack of grace into the foliage.
“What do you want me to do, Dad?” Fritz said.
“First, help me put this trunk into position,” Bill said.
They grabbed a vine each and put all their strength and weight into hefting the trunk, and then tied it off. They picked up an axe each and felled another log. They stripped it, prepared it, and hoisted it into position. They completed two more in quick succession before they stopped.
“There,” Bill said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it? Go get your brothers.”
Bill took a deep breath through his nose and got his breath back. He stood with his hands behind his back surveying the area they had turned into a booby trap artist’s paradise. The holes were covered with broad leaves
, indistinguishable from the greenery surrounding it. Lumps of dripping meat hung above each of them. Half a dozen trunks with obsidian fringes sat perched in the boughs of half a dozen trees. The nets of coconuts hung overhead, precarious and ready. The Robinson boys strode over to their father.
“You wanted to see us?” Ernest said.
“Yes,” Bill said. “The Lurchers are on their way, and there won’t be just a few of them. They will come in their hundreds, in their thousands, maybe. But we must be ready for them. Do not hesitate. Because they will not hesitate.”
For a moment he said nothing and looked from one son to the next, taking them in.
“I’m very proud of you,” he said. “All of you. Fritz, for your strength. Ernest, for your wisdom. Jack, for your bravery. Francis, for his curiosity. You boys are the greatest achievement of my life. It makes me proud to see you all standing here before me today. No father could have better sons.”
His sons smiled back at him.
“You boys have been lucky enough never to have experienced war,” Bill said. “Today you might just get a taste. It won’t be sweet, it won’t be honourable, but we will be victorious. The Lurchers are a flood, and though it may not seem like it, their numbers are not limitless. Let’s show those Lurchers what Swiss Robinsons are made of.”
“Yeah!” Ernest said, getting carried away. “Let’s do it!”
He looked at Fritz and Jack with sheepish eyes and blossomed red.
“Jack,” Bill said, “I want you in the trees with the vines attached to the coconut bombs. Ernest, I want you to take care of the trunks in the trees.”
“Can I suggest we call them ‘trunks of terror’?” Ernest said.
Bill thought for a moment.
“No,” he said. “Get into your positions.”
Jack and Ernest slung their bows and a full quiver of arrows over their shoulders. Ernest climbed a tree with slow deliberate movements with the air of a man not comfortable with his own body. Jack took to a tree and scaled it as easily as if he were walking.
“I’m not sure whose brother Jack is,” Fritz said. “Ours or Nip’s.”
“If he’d been born after we got to the island, I would have had serious words with your mother,” Bill said.
Fritz chuckled.
