Arlo Finch in the Valley of Fire

by John August

  “Like the giant moon!”

  “You’d still have a photo of the moon! It just wouldn’t look big. If you try to take a picture of a snaplight or a faerie beetle, it doesn’t show up at all.”

  “But you could tell someone about them,” said Arlo. “You could describe them, what they’re like.”

  “No one would believe you,” said Wu, blowing out his flaming marshmallow. “That’s the Wonder. The same reason this stuff only works here, it only makes sense here.”

  “And places like here,” added Connor. “There are Rangers all over the world.”

  “Because the Long Woods go everywhere?” guessed Arlo.

  “Exactly,” said Connor. “But the farther you get from the edge of the Long Woods, the less Wonder there is. It’s not just snaplights and thunderclaps—it’s the actual idea of them. It fades away like a dream.”

  Arlo thought about his mother growing up in Pine Mountain. She must have known about these things as a kid. But over time, those memories had disappeared.

  He felt sorry for his mom. Her childhood must have been full of Wonder, but she couldn’t remember it.

  “Even in town, the Wonder isn’t nearly as strong,” said Jonas. “You can’t do a snaplight or anything. Our mom doesn’t even think about it. She has no idea what we can do up here.”

  “But adults in town know about the Long Woods, don’t they?” asked Arlo. He turned to Wu. “Like the nurse at school: she was helping you clean off the purple goo. So she must know about faerie beetles.”

  “Not really,” said Wu. “It’s weird. Most adults, it’s like they know but they don’t know. They’ll always find some other explanation.”

  Connor agreed. “My dad was in Rangers when he was a kid. But when you ask him about it, it’s clear he doesn’t really remember it right. It’s like his memories are in black and white rather than color.”

  “One theory is that the Wonder is like a natural defense,” said Indra. “It’s how the Long Woods stay secret: by making you forget they even exist.”

  Connor was called away for a patrol leaders’ meeting to discuss plans for tomorrow. Around the campfire, Wu observed how much better Connor was at snaplights and thunderclaps.

  “It’s not surprising, considering what he’s been through,” said Indra. “He’d have to be better, just to survive.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Arlo.

  She’d clearly expected him to ask the question. “So, all this happened when we were little. Like, three years old. So it’s not like we remember it ourselves.”

  “But everyone knows,” said Wu. “Our parents have told us about it.”

  “Our sister was there,” added Jonas, roasting a marshmallow. “She was in kindergarten with both of them.”

  “Both of who?” asked Arlo.

  “And Connor will talk about it sometimes,” said Indra, “but you don’t ever want to bring it up.” Everyone looked to see that Connor was still out of earshot. “So, back when Connor was, like, five or six, his family went camping at Highcross. It’s really pretty, but we never go there anymore.”

  “Obviously,” said Wu.

  Indra continued. “Connor was there, and his brother Christian, and their cousin Katie. They were playing hide-and-seek. Christian was looking for them, but he couldn’t find them anywhere. He was yelling for them. No answer. It was starting to get dark, so he told his parents. No one could find Connor and Katie. That night, the whole town began looking for them. There were search parties and tracking dogs. They had helicopters flying in from Denver.”

  “They even had psychics and shamans and stuff,” said Wu.

  “How did they find them?” asked Arlo.

  “They never did.” Indra paused for dramatic effect. “The search went on for three weeks, and eventually they called it off, because there was no way anyone could still be alive out there.”

  Arlo was confused. “But Connor is alive.”

  “A month after they disappeared, Connor suddenly showed up in Canada, thousands of miles away. No one could explain how he’d gotten there. Connor couldn’t remember anything after he’d been playing hide-and-seek. He had no idea where Katie was.”

  “They never found her?” asked Arlo.

  “No,” said Wu. “No trace at all.”

  “Our mom says the trolls got her,” said Julie. It was the first time she had spoken in an hour.

  “There are trolls?” asked Arlo.

  “In the Long Woods? Of course. The Field Book doesn’t even list half the things you’d find there,” said Indra. “Officially, the police say that someone must have kidnapped the two of them, and Connor got away. But everyone here knows that they probably crossed into the Long Woods somehow. That’s why no one could find them, because they weren’t even in our world anymore. Somehow Connor found his way out, but in Canada rather than Colorado.”

  “Because the Long Woods go everywhere,” said Arlo.

  “Exactly,” said Wu. “And distances there aren’t the same. You could walk ten miles through the Long Woods and end up in Brazil.”

  “The hardest part is not dying,” said Indra. “Most grownups, even Wardens, they couldn’t last one night in the Long Woods. For a five-year-old to survive out there for a week, much less a month, is unheard of.”

  His meeting over, Connor was headed back to the campfire. They needed to wrap this up. But first, Arlo had to ask an important question: “Connor’s cousin—if she was still in the Long Woods, she’d be about our age now, right?”

  “I guess. But there’s no way she could still be alive,” said Wu.

  As he drank his clumpy hot chocolate, Arlo pictured the girl he’d seen in the reflection, and the way she’d reacted when he had said “Pine Mountain.” The thoughts came to him in a rush.

  Maybe she knew the name Pine Mountain because it was where she used to live.

  Because she was Connor’s missing cousin.

  And if so, Arlo was the only one who knew she was alive.

  8

  LIGHTS IN THE DARK

  ARLO WOKE UP CONFUSED ABOUT WHERE HE WAS.

  In the dim light, he saw fingerlike shadows above him, swaying back and forth. To his right, an unseen animal was growling.

  Worse, his arms were immobilized, pinned at his side. He started to panic.

  Then he remembered he was camping.

  The tent, which had seemed so spacious when they first set it up, was a lot smaller with their sleeping bags out. Jackets were piled on top of boots by the zippered door.

  The growling animal was Wu. He snored in a way that seemed impossible, making noise on both the inhale and the exhale. It wasn’t particularly loud, except that everything else was so quiet. Arlo could hear the wind in the grass, and the burbling of a distant stream. It was like turning up the static on a radio, hearing the background noise as music.

  Arlo’s arms really were pinned, but it was because the sleeping bag was so narrow. Connor called them “mummy bags,” but they were more like cocoons, or puffy down parkas for your body. They tapered until there was just enough room for your feet.

  Connor’s bag was brand-new, top-of-the-line, designed for climbers scaling Mount Everest. It came from a catalog that sold collapsible kayaks and tiny stoves.

  Arlo’s sleeping bag came from the back of the quartermaster’s supply closet. It had probably been used by fifty different Rangers over the years. It smelled like nylon and spit and smoke and sunscreen, but he had to admit it kept him plenty warm. The night air was cold on his cheeks, but his body was toasty.

  He turned over and tried to fall back asleep.

  His pillow was actually his hooded sweatshirt, folded up on itself and wrapped in its hood, just the way Wu had shown him. It was comfortable enough. But there was a rock somewhere under his hip. It took a lot of wiggling to find a position where the rock didn’t poke him.

  And then he realized he needed to pee.

  Or did he?

  Could he wait?

&n
bsp; After all, it was going to be morning soon, he assumed, not really having any idea of the time, and not having a watch, but certain that it had to be nearer to morning than night considering he’d fallen asleep and woken up.

  Arlo decided he could wait. It would be easier if he waited.

  Then he heard a beep. It was a single, low digital chime. It came from behind him.

  Arlo rolled over to face Wu. The slumbering growler had his arm out over his sleeping bag. And on his wrist, a digital watch.

  Arlo snaked his hand out of his bag and carefully tapped Wu’s watch until he found the backlight.

  It was midnight. Midnight. He’d only been asleep two hours. It was another six hours until dawn. There was no way he was going to make it until morning to pee.

  Arlo unzipped his bag as quietly as he could, careful not to wake Connor or Wu.

  He found his boots easily enough. He didn’t bother lacing them tight.

  Connor’s coat was on the top of the pile. The jacket had no doubt come from the same catalog as Connor’s sleeping bag, designed for alpine adventures by bearded men wearing mirrored sunglasses that wrapped tight to the face like goggles. The parka had seventeen pockets and special loops for hanging accessories. It had so many different trademarked fabrics it was probably bulletproof.

  Arlo’s coat was at the bottom of the pile. It only had two pockets, with snaps rather than zippers, and a drawstring hood with the cord half pulled out. The cuff of the right sleeve was still wet from where he had spilled hot chocolate earlier.

  And then a thought occurred to Arlo: just wear Connor’s coat.

  Connor wouldn’t know or care. In fact, if Connor were awake, he would probably say, “Why are you even asking? Of course you can wear it.” Connor would say this because Rangers are kind—it’s in the Vow. It would be kind for Connor to let Arlo wear his amazing coat rather than the crappy coat with the snap pockets and hot chocolate on the cuff.

  And once this offer was made, it would likewise be kind for Arlo to say yes. Kind meant nearly the same thing as polite, and the opposite of polite was rude, and there was never a good reason to be rude.

  So in the spirit of kindness, Arlo put on Connor’s parka. It was amazing, like sliding your arms into a daydream. He never wanted to take this coat off.

  He unzipped the tent just enough to slip outside.

  * * *

  The night air was bracingly cold, and immediately snapped Arlo out of his half slumber. Still, Connor’s incredible coat kept his torso warm. Even the pockets were lined with microfiber fleece.

  Without the campfire’s orange glow, the tents looked dark and deserted, clustered together like sleeping rhinos. Arlo realized he was probably the only Ranger awake. Even the adults were sleeping.

  He was maybe the only person awake in the whole valley.

  Arlo looked up, amazed to see so many tiny lights. It was a moonless night. All the spaces between the bright stars revealed smaller, dimmer stars. Just above the trees, he could make out a broad smear of light—the Milky Way, or at least an arm of it. He had seen it in the planetarium in Chicago, but never in real life.

  Standing alone in the forest under ten thousand sparkling stars, Arlo Finch felt small—but not in a bad way. Rather, it felt like being let in on a secret about the vastness of the universe, a goldfish set loose in the ocean.

  As his breath fogged the night air, Arlo spent a few moments in quiet contemplation. He wondered if his father saw the same stars in China. He wondered how many of these stars had names, and who named them, and if they ever just gave out goofy names like Snarklebutt, because why not?

  Arlo wondered if some kid on a planet circling one of these stars was looking in Earth’s direction wondering the same things. Given how many billions of stars there were in the universe, it seemed likely—maybe inevitable—that there were other worlds almost like this one. Arlo’s mind was racing.

  And his bladder was full. He really had to pee.

  He headed off for the trees. He wasn’t sure how far from the tents was the appropriate distance to urinate. Tomorrow, he’d look it up in the Field Book. Tonight, he’d just trust his instincts.

  At the edge of the clearing, he found a tree suited to the purpose. As he was finishing up, he spotted something.

  A light.

  It was deeper in the forest—the size of a flashlight, but definitely not a flashlight. Arlo watched as the light bobbed and weaved among the trees. It was floating, or flying.

  Or dancing. There was no music, but Arlo sensed that it was moving to a rhythm, its light growing slightly brighter or dimmer to a steady beat.

  Suddenly, there was another light. It was the same size, but slightly pinker. The two lights swirled, chasing each other like birds at the park. The faster they moved, the more they seemed to blur, leaving smoky, sparkling trails in the air.

  Arlo moved closer, careful not to spook them.

  As best he could tell, they were just glowing spheres of light. Each was the size of a baseball, with no visible wings. Which meant it was impossible for them to fly. But ghost dogs and faerie beetles were similarly impossible, and they both seemed to be real, so Arlo’s skepticism was dialed pretty low these days.

  Arlo wondered if these were snaplights that had somehow come alive. He had seen the older Rangers casting snaplights that hung in the air for twenty seconds before slowly falling. What if some snaplights never fell, but instead lived on?

  Then he thought, What if this is the Wonder? All the impossible things which suddenly aren’t.

  A twig snapped under Arlo’s foot. The dancing lights seemed to hear it, stopping their chase to hover for a moment. Arlo froze.

  Could they see him? Did they even have eyes?

  The lights eventually began swirling again, heading deeper into the forest. Arlo was determined to be stealthier this time, carefully moving from tree to tree so they wouldn’t notice him.

  The ground under his feet was becoming muddier. He regretted not tying his boots—the laces were dragging in the muck. But he couldn’t stop to fix them, because the lights were moving faster. It was tough to keep them in sight while trying to stay somewhat hidden.

  One of the lights flew straight up, circling a tall tree. Arlo watched as it hid among the branches, growing dim as the other light searched for it. It was sneaky, carefully keeping on the far side of the trunk. Arlo crept closer, never taking his eyes off them.

  Suddenly, the second light zoomed past Arlo, so close he could feel a whoosh. These things had some substance after all.

  The glowing sphere hung in front of Arlo, suspended in midair. And then it winked. Or blinked. It got dimmer for just a second, but Arlo could swear it was deliberate. I see you, it was saying. And it wasn’t afraid.

  Arlo felt he should say something. “Hello?”

  The light blinked again.

  “What are you? Did someone make—”

  Before he could finish his question, the light suddenly flew off, joining its friend deeper in the forest. Arlo followed them. This time, he didn’t worry about being stealthy. He ran to catch up with them.

  The lights slowed, then stopped, apparently waiting for him to catch up. They gradually rose higher and higher. Arlo hurried to keep them in sight when suddenly—

  BOOOOOOM!

  A massive thunderclap rang through the forest. Arlo nearly jumped out of his skin.

  A boy’s voice yelled, “Stop!”

  Arlo searched amid the dark trees. A snaplight suddenly flared, revealing Connor a hundred feet behind him. Connor wasn’t wearing a coat, and Arlo suddenly realized why.

  “I’m sorry!” yelled Arlo. “I didn’t think you’d…”

  “Don’t move!” Connor sent up two more snaplights and slowly approached.

  Arlo looked up to the glowing lights he had been following. They were circling each other, watching. With the illumination from Connor’s snaplights, he could see there was more to them. Swirling shadows surrounded them, like bones made
of smoke.

  “What are they?”

  “Wisps,” said Connor. “They’re trying to kill you.”

  Connor aimed another snaplight just past Arlo’s feet, revealing the edge of a pit. Six feet below, sharp wooden spikes pointed up like spears. It was a simple but deadly trap, and Arlo had run right up to the edge of it.

  One more step and Arlo Finch would have been skewered. He carefully backed away.

  Connor moved beside him. “Cover your ears.”

  Arlo plugged his ears tight. Connor rubbed his hands together in a special way and then clapped them, sending another crashing boom of thunder at the wisps.

  The living lights swirled. Arlo sensed they were angry, or confused. Their plan of leading him to the trap had nearly worked.

  The lights bobbed, circled, then flew off deep into the forest, out of sight.

  Turning around, Arlo could see flashlights and snaplights as other Rangers and Wardens came to investigate the thunderclaps.

  Connor sent up a snaplight to show where they were.

  “Are you boys all right?” yelled one of the Wardens.

  Connor yelled back, “We’re fine!” He then whispered to Arlo, “Don’t say anything about the wisps. They’ll make us go home tonight.”

  * * *

  The Wardens believed Connor’s story about Arlo getting lost in the woods, but Indra didn’t. As soon as the adults left, she snuck into their tent and demanded the real story.

  With Connor’s blessing, Arlo told her and Wu exactly what had happened.

  “Why would wisps be this far out of the Long Woods?” asked Indra.

  “I don’t know,” said Connor.

  “Maybe they were hungry,” suggested Wu. “It says in the Field Book that they lure creatures to their death to eat their souls.”

  “Then who made the trap?” asked Arlo. “They don’t have hands. Someone had to build that.”

  “And it wasn’t an old trap, either,” said Connor. “We camp up here all the time. We would have seen it before.”

  Indra was certain she had the answer. “Someone built the trap, and sent the wisps to lure you into it. It wasn’t an accident or a coincidence. It was planned.”