We Dine With Cannibals

by C. Alexander London

  “I wanted to ask you two—,” Corey started to say, but just then Madam Mumu’s latest hit single, “Funky Bookmobile,” blared through the car.

  “I’d show you something new, but your book is overdue …”

  “Hold on a sec,” Corey said, and pulled out his cell phone. “You got Corey!” He even smiled when he answered the phone. “Uh-huh … Uh-huh … Uh-huh … No way! … Impossible. I’m in South America right now, with the Navels. Yes, I guarantee we’ll talk later. Ciao.” He hung up again. “Sorry,” he told the twins. “I thought ninth-grade algebra was hard, but just being Corey Brandt is a full-time job. Sometimes I wish I could—” His phone rang again.

  “I’d show you something new, but your book is overdue …”

  “You got Corey,” he answered it. While he argued with somebody on the other end of the phone, Oliver watched the muddy town pass by the car windows.

  Celia stared at the star. She couldn’t believe she was riding in a car with Corey Brandt! In person, he looked older than on TV, probably because he wasn’t wearing makeup. She liked seeing him in a way none of the other girls in her class had. She felt special.

  “Sorry,” Corey said as he hung up the phone again. “I just wanted to tell you two that I really think it’s great that you get to have all these adventures. I mean, having Dr. Ogden Navel as your father! You two must have, like, the best time ever. What’s your favorite country? India? Tibet?”

  “Tibet was full of dangerous—,” Oliver started.

  “Oh, snap!” Corey Brandt shouted. “You’ve been to Tibet! I’m so jealous! I’ve always dreamed of going there, but you know, with Sunset High and Agent Zero and now The Celebrity Adventurist, there’s just never time. Plus my mom, she’d never let me go. Can you believe it? Me? Corey Brandt? I mean, I’m sixteen now, you know? So was Tibet, like, spiritual? Was it amazing? Did you meet a lama?”

  “Yeah, but he tried to kill—,” Oliver started.

  “It was great,” Celia interrupted him. “It was … like … sooo spiritual.”

  Oliver gave her a knowing glance of his own, one with raised eyebrows and a questioning look, but she ignored him. Just as she was trying to think of something else to say about Tibet that didn’t involve killer witches, murderous lamas, or their mother’s secret society, the car arrived at the hotel.

  Calling it a hotel, however, was an exaggeration. It looked more like a haunted house. In fact, many of the citizens of Benjamin Constant believed that it was haunted. It had been the mansion of a wealthy rubber baron over a hundred years ago.

  Rumor had it that cannibal tribes in the jungle beyond the town didn’t like him taking the rubber from their trees, so they broke into the house and ate him and his entire family. It was said that late at night you could hear the ghosts of the rubber baron and his family groaning, doomed forever to live in the house where they had been turned into a feast for cannibals.

  That story didn’t bother Oliver and Celia, though. As they pulled up to the mansion, they looked right up to the roof and saw the most glorious sight: a shining round satellite dish pointed at the sky. Oliver was out of the car before it had even stopped.

  “Excuse me.” Celia smiled an apology at Corey Brandt, snatched up her backpack, and ran off after her brother. If he got to the television first, she’d never get to pick what she wanted to watch.

  18

  WE OOO-LA-LA AND BLAH-BLAH-BLAH

  OLIVER AND CELIA ran right through the foyer of the crumbling mansion, which now served as the lobby, and bounded up the grand winding staircase, with its frayed red carpeting, to the suite at the top of the stairs.

  “The suite is for Mr. Brandt!” the manager called after them, but Oliver and Celia weren’t listening. They burst through the doors and raced for the table next to the couch where the remote control was resting. Oliver was ahead, with Celia, who was much faster up the stairs, chasing close behind. She saw that Oliver would make it first, so she dove and tackled him around the ankles.

  “Ow!” he shouted as he crashed to the floor. Celia sprang over him and grabbed the remote in a dive roll, landing on her behind with the device pointed straight at the TV.

  “Ha!” she said, preparing to turn the TV on, when it snapped on, apparently by itself. “What the—”

  “Universal remote,” Oliver smirked, waving their remote control from home in the air. In his other hand he held the hollowed-out book. He’d carried the remote to South America in secret. The universal remote would work on any television in the world. Celia wondered why she hadn’t thought of that.

  Oliver tuned the TV to the Game Show Network. Name That Vegetable was on. Celia used her remote to switch it to the Décor Channel to watch House Heroes. Oliver changed it to Cartoon Classics One. Celia changed it back to House Heroes. Oliver changed it to the Cooking Channel. Celia put it back to House Heroes.

  “I want to watch House Heroes. They’re giving a family a new house after their last one blew up.”

  “That’s the boringest show in the world,” Oliver complained. He changed it back to Name That Vegetable.

  “Is not.” Celia flipped it back. A computer graphic showed someone dropping a Velma Sue’s snack cake into a bathtub, causing a disastrous flood.

  Oliver changed it to cartoons. Celia changed it back. Flood, cartoons, flood, cartoons, flood.

  “This is never going to work,” Celia said. “If we’re going to watch anything, we’ll have to cooperate.”

  “Sure,” Oliver said. “You say that now. You didn’t want to cooperate when you tackled me.”

  “Well, things have changed.”

  “They sure have. Why are you so weird around Corey Brandt?”

  “I’m not weird,” Celia snapped. “You’re weird.” She did her best impression of Oliver. “Hey, Corey, I think you’re so great in whatever and can you tell me about thingamajig and I just loved you in blah-blah-blah …”

  “You can’t blah-blah-blah Agent Zero!”

  “I can blah-blah-blah whatever I want.”

  “Well at least I didn’t get all gushy and mushy and ooo-la-la-y.”

  “I did not get all gushy and mushy and ooo-la-la-y.”

  “Oh, Corey!” Oliver danced around, doing his impression of Celia in a singsong falsetto. “Tibet was like … sooo spiritual! Nobody tried to kill us or get us to find the Lost Library or make us fight a yeti. We should go there. … We could fall into a pit together … a deep spiritual pit!”

  “Hey Corey, hey Corey, hey Corey!” Celia stood up to jump around like an eager puppy, which is how she thought Oliver was acting. “Hey Corey, pay attention to me! I think you’re the coolest. Will you be my friend? Will you do a backflip? Wanna ride motorcycles? Wanna play dodgeball? Hey Corey, hey Corey, hey Corey!”

  “I was not like that.”

  “Yes you were.”

  “Was not.”

  “Was too.”

  “Was not.”

  “Was too.”

  “I don’t think either of you were like that,” said Corey Brandt, leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed like an ad in a magazine. An ad for cool.

  Both children turned as red as boiled beets.

  “You … were … standing … there … ?” Celia gasped. “The … whole … time?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Corey said, strolling into the room. “You wouldn’t believe how crazy people get around me sometimes, just because I’m, like, superfamous. But that’s just TV. I’m a totally normal guy. I actually wanted to ask you something before we go into the jungle. I wonder if I could see the—”

  “I’d show you something new, but your book is overdue …” The words to “Funky Bookmobile” blasted through the room.

  “Hold on a sec,” Corey said as he pulled out his cell phone. “You got Corey.” He stepped back out into the hall. “I told you not to call me here …”

  Just then, Dr. Navel and Sir Edmund came into the room arguing.

  “We cannot simply enter th
e Javari Valley without proper permits!” Dr. Navel shouted. “There are uncontacted tribes living there. They have never seen an outsider before. They have a right to their privacy!”

  “Nonsense!” Sir Edmund shouted.

  “We’ll get them to sign privacy-release forms,” Corey Brandt called from the hallway.

  Sir Edmund rolled his eyes.

  “I have a duty as a scientist,” Dr. Navel said. “I must respect those cultures who choose not to contact the outside world. I know it means nothing to you, but true explorers have a code of ethics.”

  “Oh, you can stuff your ethics!” Sir Edmund retorted. “Cannibals don’t care about your ethics. One shot from their poison darts and your ethics won’t mean a thing.”

  “We do not know that they are cannibals,” Dr. Navel said.

  “Cannibals?” Oliver gulped, looking sideways at Celia.

  “Why don’t you go to the museum and do some research then?” Sir Edmund mocked Dr. Navel. “Go look into your stuffy books. The rest of us will go into the jungle and make TV magic.”

  “Since when do you care about TV magic?” said Dr. Navel.

  “I have always loved TV magic! Isn’t that true, children? I watched the television with you all summer, did I not?”

  Just as Oliver and Celia were not very good at adventuring, Sir Edmund was not very good at watching television. During their time with him, they had stayed in the fanciest hotels, which had a lot of TV channels. Even so, Celia made them watch reruns of Love at 30,000 Feet.

  Sir Edmund was always asking who people were and why they were doing whatever they were doing. He forgot the answers almost as soon as Celia told him. He couldn’t tell Captain Sinclair and Copilot Rogerson apart, and every time the Duchess in Business Class fainted, Sir Edmund would tell a story about a real duchess in Norway who was narcoleptic. Then he would explain that narcoleptics were people with a condition that caused them to fall asleep with no warning all the time. By the time he finished his story, they’d have missed half the episode and something else would be coming on.

  In answer to his question, Oliver and Celia shrugged.

  “See?” Sir Edmund said.

  “They shrugged,” Dr. Navel said. “That means no.”

  “When a child shrugs, it means yes.”

  “I think I know my children better than you. A shrug means no.”

  “It means yes.”

  “It means no.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  They continued arguing like that as they passed through the sitting room into the bedroom of Corey Brandt’s suite and closed the door. They didn’t ask Oliver and Celia to say what they actually meant by shrugging, which was a relief.

  “This is going to be a long trip,” said Oliver.

  “Yeah,” Celia agreed.

  “Sir Edmund doesn’t care about The Celebrity Adventurist or TV magic, no matter what he was saying.”

  “He wants the guide to El Dorado. That’s what he was looking for in Machu Picchu.”

  “The key-poop.”

  “You know it’s called a khipu.”

  “I like my way better.”

  “Well, whatever it is, it’s not safe for us to have it. Principal Deaver was wearing the symbol of the Council. She probably told Sir Edmund that we had it. I bet that’s why she suspended us … so we would go down here and find people to translate it.”

  “And once we do,” said Oliver, “Sir Edmund will go on his own to El Dorado. He probably plans to leave us in the jungle.”

  “Why do you think he wants to find El Dorado so badly? Because of the gold?”

  Celia wondered if Oliver remembered what their mother told them in Tibet. She had said that the Lost Library of Alexandria would be found in a lost place—a blank spot on the map. What could be more blank than El Dorado? Most people didn’t even believe it existed. She also remembered the prophecy they’d been told: All that is known will be unknown and what was lost will be found. Could this all be part of their destiny? Getting suspended from school, going to the Amazon, and even Corey Brandt?

  “Sorry, guys.” Corey Brandt came back into the room. “Hollywood can be so tough, you know? It’s like everybody wants something from you and you never know who you can trust. That’s why I wanted to come to the Amazon. Exploring just seems so much more, like, honest, you know?”

  Celia gave Oliver a knowing glance that said, “Don’t tell him anything about the khipu or the Mnemones or the Council or our prophecy.”

  Oliver nodded. He understood.

  “So what are we doing?” Corey Brandt smiled. “Watching the History Channel?”

  Oliver and Celia looked over at the TV and saw a key with ancient Greek writing below it covering the screen. A little cartoon man in a toga was tapping his foot in the corner. Somehow, in wrestling over the remote, they’d accessed the Catalog of the Lost Library—and Corey Brandt was looking right at it.

  The image suddenly changed to a very old map of the world where none of the continents were in the right place. In the middle was a large island that looked like it was pushing the rest of the land out of the way. There was some writing on the drawing that the twins recognized as ancient Greek, even though they couldn’t read what it said. The island was labeled only with a picture—a scroll wrapped in chains.

  “Hey,” said Corey Brandt. “I’ve seen that before. Isn’t that the symbol that Sir Edmu—”

  He was interrupted by a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass. Screams came through the door to the bedroom, followed by bangs as furniture crashed to the floor.

  “We mean you no harm!” they heard their father shout.

  “Savages!” they heard Sir Edmund shout.

  Then they heard a loud thump, like a body hitting the floor, and then a quieter thump, like a smaller body hitting the floor.

  They all ran to the bedroom and burst through the door. They saw a scene of absolute chaos. Furniture was overturned. The windows were shattered. Sir Edmund and their father were gone.

  “What happened to my hotel room?” cried Corey Brandt. “And where did those two go?”

  Celia reached up to the door frame and plucked a long dart from the wood. Its needle-thin point glistened with poison.

  “Cannibals,” said Celia. “I think cannibals just kidnapped our father.”

  19

  WE UPSET SOME CHICKENS

  OLIVER RAN to the smashed window and looked out over the jungle. He saw nothing but thick green foliage and dark shadows. He craned his neck around to look toward the river in the distance.

  “What do you see?” Celia asked.

  “I thought I saw … I don’t know. … Wait! There!” He pointed. Celia rushed over and saw a large man running with their father slung over his shoulder and a smaller one carrying Sir Edmund. The figures were painted in black and red, so it was impossible to make out their identity, but they were nearly at the river already.

  “That one with Sir Edmund looks like a woman,” Oliver said.

  “Amazonians …,” whispered Corey Brandt.

  “We have to follow them!” Celia shouted, and turned from the window ledge.

  “We can’t go running after cannibals into the Amazon!” said Corey Brandt.

  “We don’t even know if they are cannibals,” said Oliver.

  “They were half naked, covered in body paint, and shooting poison darts,” said Celia. “Does it really matter what cuisine they prefer? They took Dad! We have to go after them!”

  “Corey’s kind of right, though,” Oliver said. “We can’t go running after them.”

  Celia exhaled angrily. Why was her brother so difficult?

  “But we can go driving …,” Oliver said. “On motorcycles!”

  The motorcycle taxi drivers were sitting around outside the hotel playing dominoes and hoping that the first tourists they’d had in ages would need to go somewhere, like the local tavern. Or the other local tavern. Or the third local tavern. Pretty much all the
re was to do at night in Benjamin Constant was go to the taverns.

  When Oliver and Celia ran out of the front doors of the hotel calling for taxis, the drivers were a little surprised that children so young would want to go the taverns. It made much more sense when the children panted, “The river … as fast as you can.”

  The teenager with the perfect hair followed behind.

  “I … um …,” Corey called out as Oliver and Celia each mounted a motorcycle behind the driver. “I don’t know how to ride one of those things!”

  “But you ride one in the opening credits!” Oliver called back over the thundering engines revving up.

  “I mean, right …” Corey Brandt kicked his toe at the dirt. “I meant this type of motorcycle … I’ve never ridden this type.”

  Oliver looked over at his sister, who shrugged. Oliver couldn’t believe Corey Brandt didn’t know how to ride a motorcycle. He was Agent Zero! He was the Celebrity Adventurist! He was a teenager!

  “Just get on and hold on tight,” Oliver said. “The driver will do the driving!”

  Corey nodded and hopped on, pulling his camera from his pocket to film the chase. They screeched off, one by one, toward the river, kicking up a cloud of dust as they went. Wild dogs barked as they zoomed past.

  Celia felt like every bone in her body was being rattled into dust by the bumps and jostles of the motorcycle. The backpack on her back caught the air as they drove and it felt like she was being yanked off the seat. This was not a pleasant feeling.

  Oliver couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face. They hit an incline and took to the air.

  “Woo-hoo!” he yelled as the bike flew. Then it came down with a hard thump that smashed his mouth shut with a snap and bounced him off the seat. “Ow-ahh!” he yelled and caught onto the driver’s jacket just before he was hurled off the motorcycle. He squeezed tightly. Maybe motorcycles weren’t all that much fun after all. He hoped that Corey hadn’t been recording him.

  They sped through the town. Women hanging the wash out to dry shouted as they splashed through puddles, spraying mud onto freshly cleaned sheets. Old men dozing in hammocks yelled at them to quiet down. Little children scattered screaming in front of them, and chickens clucked angrily to the side of road. The Navels were not making any friends in Benjamin Constant. It felt just like Mr. McNulty’s class.