by Tara Omar
C h a p t e r 6 4
A glossy motorboat with a stern like a curved ram’s horn pulled up alongside Sasha’s AO-RV and sputtered to a stop. The guard flicked the engine to idle and pulled a weathered receipt book from his breast pocket.
“Good afternoon, Sir,” said the guard, as he scribbled Buttercup’s license plate number into his book. “You’re a long way from any dock. What are you doing so near to Faerkbërde?”
“Oh, just sailing around,” said Sasha.
“Do you have a boating license?” asked the guard.
“In the glove compartment,” said Sasha.
“Retrieve it, please,” said the guard.
Sasha pulled a card from the glove compartment and handed it to the guard, while David, Liza and Natalie held still behind a screen separating the backseat from the front, barely breathing. The guard glanced fleetingly at the screen. He looked from Sasha to the card before writing more notes in his book.
“Since this is an AO-RV, I’ll also need to see your driver’s license,” said the guard, pointing with his pen.
Sasha cleared his throat and retrieved a second card from the glove compartment. He went to close it, but the guard raised his hand.
“Leave it open,” said the guard, writing more. The guard looked up, squinting as he scanned the geyser.
“Is that a tank on your roof?” asked the guard.
“It’s full of fuel,” said Sasha.
“What kind of fuel?” asked the guard.
“Ethanol,” said Sasha.
“Has it been denatured?” asked the guard.
“I’m…not sure,” said Sasha.
“Then I’ll need to see your liquor license,” said the guard.
“What?”
“Unless it’s been rendered undrinkable, I’ll need a liquor license,” said the guard.
“I don’t have one,” huffed Sasha.
The guard paused, thoughtful. “Okay, it’s fine. Just open the boot for me, please.”
“Why?” asked Sasha.
“Routine inspection, Sir,” said the guard, peering inside Buttercup’s glove compartment. Sasha didn’t move.
“Open the boot, Sir,” ordered the guard.
Sasha felt a poke from behind the seat.
“Sir, open the boot,” repeated the guard.
“Just a second…” said Sasha, “one second.”
The guard reached for his blade as Sasha slowly picked up a greasy paper from the floor and unfolded it. Inside was a calamari ring taken from the leftover Gatsby, along with the following instruction:
Give it to him.
Sasha held the calamari ring out the window. “Here.”
“What is it?” asked the guard.
Sasha stared. “I think it’s a calamari—ring.”
A gigantic, grey lump the size of a school bus burst from beneath the sea like a ball fired from a cannon. It landed with a slap directly where the ring had been held, drowning the guard and destroying the Ibex boat. David tore down the screen.
“Oh, thank goodness. You don’t know how much I was hoping that would work,” he breathed.
“Have you been sending the whale a trail this whole time?” asked Natalie.
David nodded. “Thanks, Squeaky!” he called, as he dumped the last of the Gatsby’s calamari out the window. A moaning screech echoed from below the waves. Squeaky waved his flipper above the water.
“You two know each other?” asked Sasha.
“Yeah,” said David. “Squeaky is Jia Li’s…dragon.”
“Dragon?” asked Natalie. “Isn’t that a—”
David mouthed a warning, but it was too late. Natalie finished, “Isn’t that a sperm whale?”
The words were barely from her mouth when Squeaky slapped his giant tail against the sea, sending water smashing against Buttercup’s windows as a massive wave carried them toward the shores of Faerkbërde. Buttercup crashed against the rocks like a floating soda can, suffering several dents to the side door and a broken window as it wedged itself between the stones. Sasha started the engine and switched to drive; the off-roader climbed over the rocks and sank to a stop at the forest’s edge, letting out a tired hiss.
Sasha opened the doors, sending a flood of water from the driver’s seat. Natalie clutched her feet.
“Are you okay,” said David. “Yeah, I think so,” said Natalie.
David swept the broken glass from Liza’s blanket.
“Better put the rain boots on,” said Sasha. “Let’s get the fuel ready.”
They opened the tap on the geyser, running the fuel through a modified coffee filter before storing it in empty, two-litre soda bottles. When all their bottles were filled, David and Sasha removed the geyser from Buttercup’s roof. Natalie lit a wick made from wax and toilet paper and dropped the geyser onto the rocks below. A rolling fireball erupted, consuming the geyser as it sank to the bottom of the sea. Natalie pulled a seed packet from her pocket and sprinkled it over the water.
“Coral polyps,” said Natalie, before David could ask. “If there’s anything left of our geyser in a few years’ time it will be a lovely coral reef.”
“You think of everything,” said David.
Natalie strapped the camera onto Kiwi and set him on Buttercup’s bonnet.
“Okay, my friend,” said Natalie, “let’s find the eula grove.”
She climbed into the front seat of the AO-RV and opened her goldfish clutch as Kiwi took off into Faerkbërde Forest. Natalie typed some code into her computer, and the small fountain that served as a screen bubbled up with a scene of the rocks and trees ahead; it was highlighted with a thin, red line through the forest.
“Right, now I just have to connect the auto—”
But Sasha caught her arm. “I’d prefer to drive, if you don’t mind.”
“Okay, the computer is calculating the easiest path through the brush,” said Natalie. “Can you follow the line?”
“Should be easy enough,” said Sasha. He started Buttercup’s engine, and pressed the accelerator. The AO-RV crawled forward as Sasha steered them down the path highlighted by the line, which ended at Kiwi’s camera. David sat in the back, dabbing Liza’s sweaty forehead with a towel.
“Hang in there, brave one. It won’t be long now,” whispered David. “We’re almost there.
C h a p t e r 6 5
Sasha inched Buttercup forward over boulders and brush with painstaking slowness, travelling at less than ten kilometres an hour over the rocky terrain in Faerkbërde Forest. Kiwi had disappeared into the brush long before and was far ahead of them, his position known only by the red line on Natalie’s computer. Crusty paced back and forth along the dashboard, shivering her wings and groaning in agitated grunts. Natalie offered the little bird a sunflower seed, but Crusty hurled the seed at the window, pacing faster and groaning louder. Natalie offered another seed, which Crusty again hurled at the window.
“What’s wrong with her?” asked David.
“I don’t know,” said Natalie. “I keep giving her sunflower seeds, but she seems to be getting more upset.”
“Is this the Queen’s bird?” asked Sasha.
“Yeah,” said Natalie. “I think Catherine mentioned Crusty was in her peregrine or something.”
“Oh, the parrot’s a racing bird,” said Sasha. “She’s probably upset because Kiwi’s in front, and she can’t pass him.”
“Our slow pace probably isn’t helping,” said Natalie, thoughtful. “Can we go any faster.”
“Not without damaging the undercarriage,” said Sasha. “This is new and difficult terrain.”
Buttercup brushed alongside a bristly pine tree covered in cones. Crusty stopped pacing and ran toward the window, bouncing up and down as Buttercup’s window neared a pine cone. They passed by it. Crusty, unable to take any more o
ffences, threw back her head and screamed.
“Oh, oh, don’t cry, Crusty,” cooed Natalie, offering another sunflower seed. “Please calm down.”
But Crusty hurled the seed at the window and continued to cry in continuous, piercing shrieks, one right after another like a baby crying.
David sighed. “What now?”
“I think she wants a pine cone,” said Natalie.
“Pine…fire…seeds…” groaned Liza, trying to sit up. David caught her head.
“Shh…shh…” he whispered, helping Liza back to the floor. “Don’t worry. We’ll sort her out.” Liza closed her eyes, breathing heavily. Natalie tried to pick up Crusty but the parrot bit her finger, determined to scream out her sorrows from the edge of the dashboard.
“Can’t we give it a pine cone?” asked David.
“No, Faerkbërde will attack if we touch the forest, and we’ll be in more danger,” said Sasha. “The bird will quiet down. We just have to wait.”
Three hours went by and Crusty did not quiet. In fact, the small parrot’s lungs seemed as lusty as ever, leaving everyone in the AO-RV visibly tense. Even Natalie, who had given up trying to appease the bird an hour before, looked frayed. Liza moaned and shifted in the back.
“Nats, we have to do something. It’s affecting the Queen,” said David.
“I’ve tried everything I know, David, but Crusty is… determined,” sighed Natalie.
“Are you sure Faerkbërde will miss a pine cone?” asked David. “What if we take a fallen one?”
“I’d rather we didn’t,” said Sasha.
“We must be getting close now,” said Natalie. “We’ve been following the Chumvi River for quite some time.”
Liza moaned and shifted as Crusty continued to scream. Buttercup rolled over a pile of rocks alongside the riverbed. David spied a pinecone lying under a bush not far from Buttercup. He tapped the window with his hand.
“Stop the car,” called David. “I’m going to get that pinecone.”
Sasha ignored him.
“Sasha, stop the car,” said David, but he didn’t listen.
Natalie sighed. “Sasha, I think David’s right. Please stop the car.”
Sasha pulled the handbrake as David reached for the door.
“No,” called Natalie, stopping his arm, “I’ll do it. Maybe Faerkbërde will take more kindly to meras than to humans.”
Natalie took a deep breath and tiptoed toward the pine cone lying under the bush. She paused, closing her eyes as she carefully reached for the cone. In one swift movement, Natalie picked it up; David and Sasha held their breath, but nothing happened. Natalie looked around, but the leaves of the forest swayed only with the gentle breeze. She hurried back to the AO-RV.
“That was easier than expected,” said Natalie. She put the pinecone on the dashboard. Crusty stopped screaming and strutted toward it, staring at the pointed cone curiously.
Natalie sighed. Without warning, Crusty slammed her head into the pinecone like a bull charging a wall.
“Whoa,” said Natalie, scooping it up. “What are you doing?”
But Crusty flew toward the cone and knocked her head against it again with a force that nearly knocked her out. Natalie tried to hide the pinecone under her arm, but Crusty bit her. Natalie dropped the cone and Crusty followed it to the floor, hurling her head into the pinecone again as if she were a battering ram. Natalie stared at her, horrified.
“She’s trying to get to the seeds inside,” said Sasha.
“I think you have to light it,” said David.
“Are you serious?” asked Natalie.
“That’s what the Queen said,” said David. “I think the fire opens the cone.”
“Leave it,” said Sasha, turning the steering wheel as he drove Buttercup over a moss-covered rock. “The bird’s quiet now, which was the whole point.”
Crusty shook her head and ruffled her feathers, clearly dizzy from the assault. Natalie frowned, moving her feet as Crusty charged the cone again, seemingly unfazed by the damage it was causing. Natalie shifted uncomfortably. After several more charges by Crusty, Natalie picked up the cone from the floor. She grabbed a match from her backpack and, striking it against the door, held the flame to the base of the pinecone.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t watch this anymore,” said Natalie. The pinecone glowed red in her hand as the flame licked its sides. It popped and snapped as the spikey leaves unfolded, revealing pockets of seeds inside. Crusty climbed up to the dashboard, shivering excitedly as she watched.
Sasha leaned his head outside the window and looked around. The moss to the side of them suddenly seemed spikier than usual. The bushes bristled. Vines began to squirm through the brush like snakes, poking at Buttercup’s hubcaps. Sasha waved his arm. “Put out that fire,” he called. “Put it out.”
But it was too late. The trees around them howled, and the vines hissed. The spikey points of bambords blasted through the ground with the force of bombshells, causing explosions of rock and dirt. Sasha dropped to a lower gear and pushed the accelerator. Buttercup’s engines roared as the AO-RV barrelled forward.
Faerkbërde was awake and angry.
C h a p t e r 6 6
Sasha spun Buttercup’s steering wheel like a madman, swerving around razor-sharp plants and crashing over rocks. Towering bambords shot up from the ground behind them like spring-loaded pikes; Buttercup’s bonnet crinkled with dents as jagged rocks bounced off its top. Natalie typed frantically into her computer as thick vines punched through and shattered the windows. David threw himself over Liza, shielding her from the splintering glass which whirled around them.
“Well, this escalated quickly,” said Natalie, ducking as a spiky nut flew through the broken window.
“Yes,” said Sasha. “We’re going to need more fuel.”
“On it,” said Natalie. “Do you think you can follow the navigation without me?”
“I shall try,” said Sasha. He pulled hard on the steering wheel as a bambord burst up next to them, snapping a bush as Buttercup bounced over it. Natalie somersaulted into the backseat and sneezed. She pulled a water bottle from her backpack and swirling its contents around, poured the water over David’s wrists. She sneezed again.
“Spin anything…anything you know how to spin, and shoot it,” said Natalie, in between sneezes.
“You okay, Nats?” asked David, still shielding the Queen with his body.
“Yes,” said Natalie, sniffling as she grabbed a bottle full of fuel. “I—I think I’m allergic. Cover for me.”
Crusty bounced excitedly on the dashboard, chirping happily as she munched on a nut and watched the off-roader tumble forward. David shot a filament toward a grasping vine that was nearing the cheerful parrot. The filament burst into a cloud of chalk dust as it hit the vine, temporarily stunning the groping foliage. Natalie clambered through the cloud toward the fuel tank with a two-litre bottle, and hanging out the broken window, dumped more fuel into Buttercup, ripping a vine that tried to grab her wrist. She fell back inside and sneezed, grabbing a tissue from her backpack before blowing her nose. David stared at her.
“Are your boogers forest green like your filament?” he asked, shooting a lasso at an incoming fern leaf. Natalie rolled across the back, grabbing another bottle of fuel.
“Can you put Buttercup in the river?” shouted Natalie.
“No, the vines have disabled the transitioning mechanism,” said Sasha. A ball of knife-like leaves burst open next to them. With a loud bang, Buttercup sunk and swerved violently to the right. “We’ve lost a tire,” shouted Sasha. Natalie dove for her backpack.
“Does that mean my boogers would be blue?” asked David.
“Not the time,” shouted Natalie, rummaging through her things. “Can you wire the steering to the computer?”
Sasha twisted the wheel back and forth a
s he tried to tail Kiwi. The loud crack of a rapidly-growing bambord could be heard erupting alongside them, smashing Buttercup’s side mirror. Sasha swerved again, narrowly missing another bambord. “I’m a bit busy here,” he shouted.
“Just try,” shouted Natalie. She pulled a small heat gun and an empty biscuit tin from her backpack, ducking as another lasso and chalk piece flew from David’s wrist. A bouquet of tubular fungi pushed through the open window, filling the AO-RV with a noxious, disgusting smell of sweaty socks and rotting flesh. David felt Liza wretch underneath him.
“We have to get out of here; the Queen’s worsening,” shouted David. Natalie grabbed the leftover koeksisters and held the heat gun over them, turning the doughnuts dry and brittle like puffy wafers. She crumbled them into the biscuit tin.
“What is that?” asked David.
“Rapid-process dehydrator,” said Natalie, crumbling more doughnuts. “I’m mixing it with potassium nitrate to make a solid fuel rocket.”
“Potassium nitrate?” asked David. “You carry potassium nitrate in a biscuit tin in your backpack?”
“Again, not the time,” said Natalie. “Are we ready with the autopilot?”
“Just about,” said Sasha. He was steering with his knees and adjusting with one hand, while holding wires from the steering column and the computer under his chin. He twisted them with his other hand and bit them with his teeth. Natalie crawled toward the rear of the AO-RV with the biscuit tin under her arm. She leaned out the back window and wedged the tin into a deep gouge in Buttercup’s back bumper.
“Ready?” she asked. Sasha bit the last wire with his teeth.
“Yeah,” he shouted.
“On the count of three, let go of the steering wheel and push down on the accelerator,” said Natalie.
“One!”
Sasha pushed down the clutch and dropped Buttercup into the lowest gear.
“Two!” called Natalie. She lit a match and held it near the tin. David braced himself over the Queen.
“THREE!”
