“T, For the Tucker explorers!” Ike said, triumphantly.
Mary grinned at the sound of that.
“But I’m not a Tucker!” Helen protested.
“Well, nobody’s perfect,” Ike said. “Besides, the ‘Tucker-Washington explorers’ is too complicated, and a ‘T’ is easier to carve than a ‘W.’”
“Whatever you say little man,” Helen said, rolling her eyes. “Now can we finally go?”
With Ike still laughing, the three explorers set off, leaving the shade of the tree which had left an indelible mark on their lives. Surrounding them was nothing but wild, untouched rainforest. Mary took a deep breath, and hoped with all her might that they were headed in the right direction.
To the River
It didn’t take long for things to get really hot. In addition to being hungry, thirsty, and exhausted, Mary was now drenched in sweat. The shade of the canopy provided some relief, but it didn’t do anything to stop the humidity.
Ike was having fun with the machete, cutting through every plant that blocked their way in the dense jungle. He stopped at every third or fourth tree and eagerly carved another ‘T’ into the trunk. Mary still grimaced with every chop he took, but she knew it would keep them traveling in the right direction. By lining up two or three of the marked trees still within her line of sight, Mary used them as guideposts to ensure that they were headed in a straight line.
Mary hoped they’d reach the river quickly. Every step grew harder and heavier. Being tired and hungry didn’t help. After a nearly sleepless night in the rainforest, Mary felt like she’d topple over and pass out at any moment. Two or three grueling hours of walking and marking trees passed, still without any sign of the river.
“Are we there yet?” Ike asked for the hundredth time.
Mary was too weak to even answer. When would this end?
Her ears perked up. She heard what sounded like rushing water up ahead. Excited, and with a burst of new energy, Mary jogged forward. Could it be what she thought it was?
A moment later, Mary emerged from the forest and found herself standing on the bank of the massive Amazon River. She gaped at the magnitude of the enormous waterway. The muddy brown current pushed along as a steady, moving wall of water. Entire uprooted trees drifted by, probably coming all the way from somewhere high in the Andes Mountains. No power on earth would be strong enough to stop this river.
Ike and Helen emerged from the forest and joined Mary, breathing heavily.
“Finally!” Helen gasped.
“Now that’s one gigantic river!” Ike said, in awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Mary wanted to collapse, but seeing the river momentarily took her attention away from how she felt. Finally viewing the Amazon—really seeing it in all of its glory—was enough to take her breath away.
Mary knew that the river would only get bigger the closer it got to the Pacific Ocean, more than one thousand miles away. In fact, they were closer to the beginning of the Amazon than to its end. If the river was already this big, how much bigger would it get?
After a few moments of watching the river, Helen turned to Mary.
“Now what?” she asked.
“We have two options. We can wait here, taking turns resting and keeping watch for boats. Or, we can follow the current downstream. We’ll eventually find a city or village,” Mary said, not adding her silent thought of “I hope.”
“I vote for the resting option,” Ike said quickly.
“What’s your problem? You’re the one who actually got to sleep,” Helen said. “You should be fine.”
“Not everybody can be a superhero like you,” Ike retorted.
“We could also do a combination of both options,” Mary suggested. “We could rest here for a few hours, and then start walking if we don’t see anything by then.”
Everybody agreed without complaint. Despite having gone the whole evening without real sleep, Helen volunteered to take the first watch. Mary feebly tried to argue, but was secretly grateful for Helen’s offer.
Mary found a nice patch of soft, long grass. Bugs buzzed around her, but she was too tired to care. She’d only been laying down for a few minutes when sleep overtook her.
Mary’s dreams were a combination of monkeys climbing all over her, falling out of trees, and watching as a strong river current carried everything away like a flash flood. She watched helplessly as trees, animals, and people were washed down the raging river.
Her dream changed, and so did the river. Now, instead of carrying people swiftly away, it was filled with boats. Mary jumped up and down on the shore, waving her arms and screaming at the top of her lungs. She desperately wanted to get their attention, but to her dismay, not a single boat stopped or even acknowledged her.
She saw a figure on one of the otherwise empty boats. Blurry at first, as the boat drifted closer, a person came into view. The old janitor, stared back at her, an evil look in his eye.
“Looking for this?” he asked, holding the globe high into the air, then throwing back his head in malicious laughter.
Mary began screaming uncontrollably.
“That’s not yours!” she cried. “Bring it back!”
The janitor continued to laugh, and his boat disappeared among the throngs of empty vessels crowding the river. Mary still screamed as he disappeared, but it made no difference. She felt completely helpless, watching him sail away.
Something shook Mary’s body, and suddenly the screaming voice was not her own.
“Mary! Mary! Wake up!”
Mary’s eyes snapped open. Helen stood over her, calling her name.
“What is it?” Mary asked, as she regained consciousness. “Did you see the boat? Where did he go?”
“What boat? Where did who go?” Helen asked, puzzled.
Mary stared at the sky for a moment, realizing it was all a dream.
“The janitor,” she said. “I had a dream about him taking the globe down the river, and I couldn’t stop him.”
“You were screaming in your sleep. You sounded like you were dying or something!” Helen still had alarm visible in her eyes.
Mary tried to collect her thoughts.
“It was just a nightmare,” she admitted.
Helen sat quietly next to her.
“It’ll be okay,” she promised. “We’ll find a way to get the globe back, once we’re home.”
Mary nodded and smiled appreciatively at her best friend.
“How long was I out?” she asked.
“Probably about three hours,” Helen said, yawning, and obviously on the brink of exhaustion herself.
“Really?” Mary said, completely surprised. “It only felt like a couple of minutes!”
She sat up, and saw Ike curled up nearby. How did he sleep so much?
“Let’s trade places,” Mary suggested, despite the groggy protestations of her body. “You really need some rest too.”
“No, I’m fine,” Helen said, again through a huge yawn.
“Come on,” Mary said. “I know you’re Wonder Woman and all, but you still need sleep.”
Helen just shrugged.
“Lay down,” Mary said in a motherly tone, pointing at the spot where she had just been sleeping.
Helen just mumbled to herself as she laid down and closed her eyes.
Mary considered waking Ike and forcing him to keep watch with her. Deciding it wasn’t worth it, she instead took a seat on a rock near the water’s edge. A pleasant breeze began to blow, cooling Mary a little in the humidity.
Looking for something to do, Mary opened up Grandpa’s knapsack. The raincoats and the flasks had already been helpful. What else could they use?
Rummaging, she saw that it contained a piece of narrow rope, coiled up and tied on the end, an old metal can opener, unfortunately without any cans to open, and a tiny garden shovel. One item in particular drew Mary’s interest. It was the small, leather-bound
book. Carefully, Mary examined the book, turning it over in her hands. It didn’t have a title, and was tied shut with a leather strap. Unlike the other items, it wasn’t worn and used. In fact, it appeared to be almost brand new.
Curious to know more, Mary carefully untied the strap, and opened to the book’s first page. In a flowing cursive handwriting, Mary read:
My Dearest Ephraim,
I know how much you love your work. I can see the joy in your eyes whenever you return from one of your adventures. I wish I could share them with you. But even though my body won’t let me travel, I long to be a part of it all. Perhaps in this book you can record your adventures in a way that we’ll all be able to enjoy, for years to come. I know one day Lewis will appreciate being able to read all about his father—the daring explorer and fearless globetrotter!
With love,
Your Lilly
Mary couldn’t believe it! She was reading words written by her grandmother. Grandma Lilly died before Mary was born, according to Mom, after a household accident. Other than that, Mary knew next to nothing about her. Neither Dad nor Grandpa could speak of her without tears, and she was seldom mentioned as a result. Mary always wondered what she was like. Did this journal contain any clues? Mary eagerly flipped to the next page.
Sure enough, there was an entry, this time in her grandfather’s unmistakable, narrow handwriting. It wasn’t as beautiful as Grandma Lilly’s, but it was legible. The page contained a single, short entry.
July 29th, 1989
Well, Lilly, if you want me to write about my adventures, then that’s just what I’ll do. I’m back in the Soviet Union, in Russia this time. As usual, my lucky globe whisked me here just as safely and smoothly as ever. I’m glad it’s summer, because here in Yakutia, in the northeastern part of the country, beyond Siberia, the winters get so cold that you can’t stay outside for more than a few minutes. Your eyelashes freeze together and your tongue starts to sting. But summertime is beautiful. Who would have ever thought that such a desolate winter land could bloom so beautifully in the spring? And the people are just as friendly as ever. I’m looking for clues and evidence on the origin of the Yakut people, and for any other treasures I might pick up along the way. Not much to report yet, but I’ll be back and write more. Don’t you worry, my dear Lilly. Your wish is my command!
Mary flipped to the next page, fascinated by the story and keen to read more. But it was blank. Mary thumbed through the rest of the pages. They were blank too. If fact, there wasn’t another mark throughout the rest of the book.
Mary frowned. Why hadn’t Grandpa written more? The empty pages shed no more light about either his adventures or about Grandma. No wonder the journal looked so new.
It took Mary a moment to figure out why nothing else had been written. Looking back to Grandpa’s short entry from Russia, she noted the date. Mary might not know much about Grandma Lilly, but she recognized that day. July 29th, 1989. The same day of Grandma’s accident and death.
Grandpa was traveling when she died. Did this have something to do with Dad’s cold relationship with Grandpa, and his dislike for travel? Mom had once mentioned something about Dad being only a teenager when Grandma died, and how he had to deal with arrangements for Grandma’s funeral and burial by himself. It seemed to Mary that something like that could change a person.
Mary didn’t know what had actually happened, but she felt she was beginning to understand. A tear trickled down her cheek. She wished that Grandma were still alive. Maybe then they could have all been traveling the world together, as a happy family.
Mary laid on her back and stared at the sky. Here she was, lost in the middle of the Amazon, missing a grandmother she never knew, and dreaming about what might have been. Life wasn’t fair sometimes.
She wiped her eyes, and felt resolve come over her. Somehow, she’d change things back. She’d fix Dad and Grandpa’s relationship. She’d honor Grandma’s memory, not by hiding from the world, but by embracing it. She’d do so many things when she got home.
If she got home.
Mary’s emotions wore her out just as much as her morning march through the rainforest. Without even noticing, she closed her eyes, and fell asleep again.
Nightfall
Raindrops on her face startled Mary awake. With a gasp, she sat up, realizing that she’d fallen asleep. Helen and Ike were also stirring. Her stomach growled with hunger, her throat was dry, and her head was pounding.
How long had she slept? Mary desperately hoped that she hadn’t missed any passing boats. She felt so guilty for allowing herself to drift off.
As she stood, Mary tried to guess the time. The sun was already lowering into the western horizon. They’d likely only have a few more hours of light. Mary shuddered at that thought of another night spent camping in the jungle.
“Did you see any boats?” Helen asked, walking up to Mary’s side. “I’m going to go ahead and guess no, given that we’re still here.”
“Actually,” Mary admitted sheepishly, “I kind of fell asleep again.”
“You what?” Ike said, sounding outraged as he joined the girls.
“Excuse me?” Helen shot back. “You’ve got no place to complain. You’ve been asleep since we got here!”
It was nice of Helen to defend her, but Mary knew they both felt as disappointed as she did. She’d hoped they would’ve at least gotten somewhere by now.
“Alright then,” Helen said. “Since we’re all rested up, should we start making our way along the river?”
“If we go downstream, it’ll probably give us the best chance of finding somebody that will be able to help,” Mary suggested, eager to do anything that felt like progress.
Once again they set off, following the Amazon downriver. The riverbank was mostly clear of trees, making it much easier to walk than it had been in the jungle. Mary supposed this meant that the river at times rose high enough to cover the area where they now stood.
Ike continued to mark their path by carving Ts into the trees closest to the river. Mary didn’t think it was necessary, but Ike insisted that he needed to keep up his “machete skills.”
They came upon a grove of palm-like trees, several of which were no longer standing. Dozens of tree trunks were laying side by side, and Mary wondered what had caused so many to fall in one place. Ike approached one of the downed trees. Pretending he was a knight, he lifted the machete high above his head.
“I slay thee, foul tree!” he cried, as he brought the blade down against the fallen trunk.
As he did, it cracked open, much to Mary’s surprise. Her surprise turned to understanding as she looked at the splintered tree trunk, which revealed a rotting center.
“Hmm, I guess I don’t even know my own strength,” Ike said, with satisfaction.
“That’s for sure,” Helen said, laughing. “Nice superpowers you’ve got there.”
“You’re just jealous of my machete skills,” Ike shot back. “You’ll thank me when I end up using this to save your life.”
“Whatever, little man,” Helen said.
They were about to continue onward, when Mary noticed something white moving within the rotted tree trunk. She moved in for a closer look and picked up a piece of the broken wood. When she saw what was underneath, she leaped back in surprise.
It was a fat, white, wriggling grub. It looked like a caterpillar, and was as big as Mary’s thumb. After getting over her initial shock, Mary discovered not only one, but several of the creatures writhing throughout the rotten wood. Their bodies were smooth and white, and each had a beady, jet-black head.
Helen came up to see what Mary was looking at.
“What is it this time … yeeow! What on earth is that?” Helen screeched as she jumped back, repulsed by the grubs.
Mary felt her stomach rumble with hunger.
“Dinner?” she suggested.
Mary couldn’t believe she was even considering it, and felt sick the mo
ment the word left her lips. But her stomach knew she needed to eat, and she was beginning to believe that they wouldn’t find anything else.
“No way, not a chance!” Helen ferociously protested. “What is this, The Lion King? I’d rather starve than eat one of those ugly things!”
“I don’t want to eat them either,” Mary argued, “But what else are we going to eat? I saw a documentary where people from the Amazon eat these things all the time. It might be gross, but it won’t kill us. Starving will.”
“Can’t Helen just go find some more fruit?” Ike suggested.
“I’ll do it if I can avoid having to eat bugs,” Helen said, angrily kicking at the tree trunk.
“What if you don’t find any right away? We haven’t seen any for a while,” countered Mary.
She still couldn’t believe she was trying to convince them to eat the grubs.
“Fine, but I still don’t want to eat that.” Helen said.
“Neither do I,” said Ike, walking toward the river. “I’ll go stab a fish with my machete instead.”
“Don’t you dare!” said Helen. “If you drop that thing, I’ll make you swim after it.”
“Fine, then I’ll just use my hands,” Ike relented.
Mary knew she wasn’t going to convince them with words. There was only one thing she could do. Plucking up enough courage, she reached down and grabbed one of the grubs. It squirmed between her fingers, and Mary tried not to think about what she was doing. She knew that she had to it quickly, or else she’d never be able to go through with it. Wincing, Mary squeezed off the bug’s black head, leaving the white, headless body still wriggling back and forth.
“Disgusting!” yelled Ike.
“Mary, don’t do it!” Helen cried.
She couldn’t stop now. Mary hastily shoved it in her mouth. She gagged reflexively, but forced herself to ignore the little wiggling legs against the insides of her cheeks. Straining, she swallowed the grub whole.
The Magnificent Glass Globe Page 7
