He never got that far.
It was Joshua, sprawled out on the ground and holding his leg in pain. His jeans were ripped and his knee was bleeding. Daniel stared at his brother, trying to assess the situation. Tears streamed down Joshua’s cheeks, cutting into the dirt on his face and leaving a trail of … over-dramatics. Yes, that was definitely the phrase he was searching for. Once again, Josh was destroying his life.
“What are you doing here?” Daniel said.
Joshua stifled his sobbing long enough to speak. “I tripped on a stump. It hurts, Daniel. It hurts bad.”
Typical Josh, Daniel thought. How many times over the years had he seen this happen? Joshua tripping on a rock. Joshua falling off a swing. Joshua stumbling down the stairs. It was always something. The boy had the balance of an egg in a tailspin.
“I swear you are the clumsiest kid in the world.” Daniel grabbed a water bottle from his backpack. “It’s a miracle you’re able to put on pants without breaking your leg.”
Joshua bit his lip and wiped away the remaining tears. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I didn’t mean to be clumsy.”
Daniel knelt beside his brother, poured water over the cut, and washed out the dirt. “You never do, but it happens all the same.”
“Hey, Braden, are you going to take your turn or what?”
Playing paramedic to his brother’s stupidity, he’d completely forgotten about the game. He hadn’t lost a game of Three Strikes yet and wasn’t about to start now. Besides, he reasoned, Joshua had already busted him for playing. If he was going to get in trouble, he should make sure it was worth it. “Hold on, I’ll be right there!”
“Please, Daniel, don’t leave.” Joshua’s eyes filled with tears and his lip quivered. “I think it might be broken.”
“It’s not broken. Will you stop being so dramatic?” He handed the bottle to Joshua, who gulped the rest of the water.
“Hurry up, Braden, we don’t have much time left. If your brother’s through being a wuss, then come on.”
“Hey, I’ve seen you cry a lot harder than that, Shawn. Go ahead and take my turn, though. I’m done playing.” It wasn’t fun anymore. Plus, he needed to get his brother home on a bad leg. “You think you’ll be able to walk on it?” he asked Joshua, who nodded. “Let’s get out of here, then.” He helped Joshua to his feet. “And if you tell Mom what we were doing, I’ll pound you like a box of nails.”
The brothers had just turned to leave when they heard the commotion. Daniel, looking back, knew instantly what happened—Shawn had fallen. The rope snapped and sent him tumbling down the side of the bluff. He was lying in the bush twenty feet below and not moving, his arm pinned beneath him.
Amid the panic, Stevie yelled, “Quick, somebody call for help!”
***
An hour later, the paramedics loaded Shawn in the back of an ambulance and shut the door. The boys watched in silence.
It had been a circus. Once the fire truck came, every neighbor within earshot showed up, gossiping and scrambling to get a better view of the firefighters hoisting Shawn onto a stretcher.
Shawn suffered a concussion, a broken arm, and two broken ribs. It would be a long time before his next game of Three Strikes. The crowd thinned and Daniel knew the phone lines in town would be logjammed by concerned mothers. There was no doubt that his mom had already heard. Daniel winced; there was no getting out of it now. He was doomed to a cruel and unreasonable punishment. If he thought the excitement of the afternoon was upsetting and tension-filled, it was nothing compared to the maelstrom awaiting him at home.
“Can you believe this?” Stevie said as the ambulance drove away. “It’s crazy.”
“I can’t believe the rope broke. We’ve swung on that rope thousands of times, and all of a sudden it breaks.”
Stevie looked back at Joshua, limping and struggling to keep up. “It’s a good thing he’s so clumsy.”
“What do you mean?”
“If your brother wasn’t such a klutz, it would have been you on the swing.” The ambulance turned the corner and disappeared from view. “It would be you on the way to the hospital.”
Chapter 3
The Red Demon
Daniel sat at his desk, bored. How could he be expected to concentrate on a book report after the Three Strikes accident? He couldn’t remember what the book was about, anyway—some family that went out west during the war or something like that.
Daniel sharpened his pencil, tore off a sheet of paper from his notepad, and began writing something way more important:
Dear Mom,
I’m leaving. Don’t try to find me because 1) you won’t be able to and 2) I don’t want to be found. You had your chance and blew it. I don’t know where I’ll end up, but it will be better than being stuck in this family. If I never see you again, see you in Heaven.
Your son, Daniel
P.S. Tell Josh he can have my room.
Daniel read the letter, nodding with approval, then crumpled it and threw it into the wastebasket. If Mom’s not careful, one of these days it will be for real.
His mother had come down harder on him than he expected. In fact, he’d never seen her so mad. It’s like she thinks she’s hurting me by sending me to my room. Here’s a news flash, Mom: I’d rather be here than anywhere else. At least here I don’t have to be with you.
The truth was that Daniel preferred being by himself. He didn’t understand the need for constant chatter. If he had something to say, he said it and quit talking. Joshua was the people person, not Daniel. Joshua could talk to anyone, anytime—and usually did. When the boys had shared a bedroom, Daniel often pretended to be asleep when Joshua began his nightly ramblings about superheroes, comic books, or whatever else he’d seen on TV that night.
“Daniel, are you asleep?” Joshua would ask.
Daniel lay awake in bed, pretending to sleep. Sometimes, he’d quietly snore.
“Daniel, who do you think is the most powerful superhero?”
Daniel continued to snore.
“Daniel, if kryptonite hurts Superman on earth, what do you think would happen if Superman went back to Krypton? Would kryptonite not hurt him then, since he’s not on earth anymore?”
Daniel rolled over on his side to hide the smile on his face. It was a good question, he conceded. What would happen to a superhero if he returned to his world? Would his powers be greater? Would something that harmed him on earth be able to harm him on his own planet? He fell asleep considering these questions.
Daniel returned to the book report. It was useless. He didn’t understand why teachers put such an emphasis on homework. It had nothing to do with the real world. Real learning was not factoring math equations or counting electrons. Sitting on the shore while his dad pointed out the Little Dipper—this was real learning. He could spend hours like that, asking his dad a question, listening as his dad answered the question and followed it with a story from his own experiences. To Daniel, experience was what mattered, and that came through doing, not sitting in a boring classroom.
Daniel closed his books. It could wait until tomorrow. Besides, he could fudge the report and still get a decent grade. “All I have to do is put in a lot of fancy words,” he said, switching off the desk light. “Mrs. Tarpley’s a sucker for that kind of stuff.”
***
Joshua crawled inside the fort. It had taken every couch cushion and blanket in the closet to build, but this had turned into one of his best pillow forts. He spread out his superhero comics, placed the tub of popcorn in front of him, zipped himself inside the sleeping bag, and pushed “play” on the remote to resume the movie. As movies go, this one was fairly entertaining—two cops that didn’t like each other got teamed up to solve a robbery at a local racetrack. One officer spoke with a whiny, high-pitched voice and made a lot of jokes, and the other was way too serious.
Joshua grabbed the first comic. There was just one problem: it was too dark to read and he didn’t want to leave the tent to t
urn on the lamp. The answer came quickly. My wristwatch flashlight! He pressed a button on the side of the watch and a tiny beam shot forward, giving him more than enough reading light. He turned up the volume on the TV, shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth, then turned the comic book to the next page.
***
Daniel took the back staircase to the hallway, not wanting to risk an encounter with his mother. He quietly checked the specifications of his project, making sure he hadn’t overlooked any details. Nope. Everything looked perfect; every wire was in place and the paint was dry. Satisfied, he covered the project and left the room.
He couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky he was not to be the one who’d fallen (after all, he was that close to taking the swing). Or maybe lucky wasn’t the right word for it—he almost felt guilty about it. Shawn and he teased each other continuously, but Daniel still felt sorry for him. How would he brush his teeth now, or floss, with that huge cast on his arm? He was probably propped up on an ironing board because it was too uncomfortable to sleep in his bed.
He hadn’t spoken to Joshua since that afternoon. He didn’t want to thank Joshua—what happened was pure coincidence—but he probably owed him an apology for yelling and embarrassing him in front of the guys. He’d do it later, he decided.
Daniel changed into his pajamas and crept under the covers. He was worried about Shawn but knew he’d be all right—he’d probably enjoy the attention he received. His bigger concern was sleep. He was having bad dreams lately. However, they weren’t nearly as bad as the restlessness that came upon him while he was trying to fall asleep, especially when certain memories sprinted to the front of his mind.
***
Daniel and his dad built model rockets together in the garage. His favorite part was going through the catalogs and selecting the one to build. His dad would order the kit and, in a few weeks’ time, Daniel found the package in the mail. Until then, he raced past his mother every day to be the first to the mailbox.
Their current rocket took them longer than most. For months, his father was putting in longer hours at work and had less time to spend with the family. It frustrated Daniel, who was eager to finish. He understood his dad had to work but still felt let down each time he went to the garage alone.
This rocket was sure to be their best one yet. It had the new turbo-charged engine, which gave it greater speed and altitude. The rocket, which they named The Red Demon, promised to blast off 1,200 feet in the sky with a shrieking whistle before the parachute deployed and guided it safely to the ground. It had been tougher to build than the others. The parachute itself, with its larger size, was a chore to pack. But they finally finished and now the good part was coming—the launch!
Saturday was supposed to be a clear day. His father was working an early shift that morning but promised to be home by noon. They’d walk to the nearby field and launch The Red Demon.
Daniel was too excited to sleep that night. He kept looking over the side of his bed to stare at the rocket, which he’d placed carefully on the floor next to him. Joshua leaned on one arm to get a better view. “You better remember it’s there when you get up to pee. You’ll crush it getting out of bed.”
“Yeah, right,” said Daniel. “You think I’m dumb enough to forget it’s there? Besides, you’re the one who gets up twelve times in the middle of the night to take a whiz.” When he was certain Joshua had fallen asleep, Daniel moved The Red Demon under his bed, breathed a sigh of relief, and fell asleep.
Daniel woke early, immediately checking under the bed to make sure The Red Demon was still there. He looked at Joshua’s bed, saw it was empty, then went downstairs to the kitchen. His mind was racing, going over the specifications of the launch. As he poured a glass of milk, his mother entered the room.
“You’re up early,” she said. “Excited about today?”
“Uh-huh. When does Dad get home?”
“He’ll be home in a while. Hey, I had an idea. Why don’t you ask Joshua to come with you?”
“Joshua?” Daniel grimaced. “No way. He’ll do something stupid and screw everything up. Besides, he’s a pest.”
“You know, Daniel, he may be a pest, but he looks up to you more than anyone. You’re his hero.”
“Yeah, well, I never volunteered for the job.”
“Besides,” she added, “you’re a pest to me sometimes, but I still keep you around.”
Daniel had never won an argument with his mother. The best he could do was make a deal. “I’ll invite him next time, I promise. But not today, okay? Today is supposed to be special, just me and Dad.”
“All right. But I’m holding you to it. Next time.”
His father didn’t make it home by noon. At three thirty, Daniel was still waiting by the window. This special day was being ruined and now it was starting to rain. If he didn’t launch today, it might be another month before he put the rocket into the air.
I’m tired of him working all the time! Frustrated, Daniel pulled his raincoat and boots from the hall closet and walked out the door, holding The Red Demon in his arm. He was going to put the rocket airborne, with or without his father.
Knowing the rain would soon fall more steadily, Daniel ran to the launch site. They always launched from a specific landmark—the massive oak tree standing alone in the field. Daniel prepared The Red Demon for flight, checking the switches and readying the launcher. Lift off!
But the rocket, instead of shrieking 1,200 feet in the sky with a glorious whistle, flew crookedly into the limbs of the tree. Daniel stared in horror. What happened? We did everything by the book. What went wrong?
The rocket rested in the arms of the tree, its body mangled. Just then, Daniel heard his mother’s car approaching, the horn blaring.
“Daniel!” his mother called. “Get in the car, Daniel. Hurry!”
Three hours later, a nurse escorted Daniel into a cold hospital room. His father was lying flat, in a white metal bed, with tubes attached to his arms. At first, Daniel registered no emotion; it was too foreign and strange. His father’s face was bleak, and Daniel saw none of the vibrancy that hallmarked his father’s expression. When the emotion finally came, tears flooded Daniel’s face. He climbed into the hospital bed.
His father seemed strengthened by his son’s embrace and tightened his grip around the boy. “There are so many things I need to tell you,” he whispered. “I’m very proud of you, Daniel.”
Those were the last words he heard his father say. As the nurse escorted him from the room, he looked one last time at his father, struggling to speak, while doctors stood over him.
Meanwhile, the rocket lay crumpled in the arms of the great tree, the regret that would fill his life for years to come.
Chapter 4
Underwater
He realized he wasn’t short of breath. He’d been underwater for several minutes but had not once lacked air. The silence also caught his attention. It was so quiet he could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat. Where am I? And how did I get here?
In his dream, Daniel was swimming below the surface of a kelp-covered lake. He was still wearing his sneakers and jeans, though the weight didn’t slow him. As he pushed through a tangle of seaweed, a school of fish swam past and startled him. He grinned, embarrassed at being caught off guard by such harmless creatures, then swam forward, unsure of where he was going.
The lake had a lonely presence and Daniel suspected he was the first person to swim this water in a long time. He noticed the different types of fish—larger ones, smaller ones, bright-colored ones—all swimming with the current. He was simply another underwater inhabitant sharing the environment, and the thought of being “out of place” disappeared as he swam alongside the sea creatures.
More and more fish appeared until the water teemed with their different shapes and colors. It was a magnificent sight, a vast explosion of color and flurry. Daniel wished he had a camera but knew he’d always remember the images filling his sight. The water, he reali
zed, was getting warmer. Before, it felt refreshingly cool, like a welcome hop through a sprinkler on a summer day. Now, it was noticeably hot, like being dunked in a Jacuzzi. He considered shedding some of his clothing, but the current increased and he couldn’t still himself enough to do so. He saw his shoelaces loosely dragging through the water and recalled images of Joshua running to catch the bus.
Daniel looked back and saw that the fish, instead of drifting with the current, were hurtling through the water. It wasn’t just fish, either. He saw a huge black ball caught in the drift. It looked like a giant version of the rubber-band ball his father kept on his work desk. He wondered what it was, until he realized it was a group of sea snakes tangled together. He tried to swim to help but couldn’t control his direction.
The water had become a whirlpool and he was being sucked in. Daniel reminded himself to stay calm so he could think about this logically. He remembered a lesson his father gave him during a camping trip, when he taught Daniel to use a compass. “Most people get lost because they lose their heads and panic. If you stay calm, you’ll always find your way.”
But he was quickly heading toward whatever it was swallowing everything. Gone was the silence he previously enjoyed, and all he heard was the fury of the whirlpool—a great, noisy, slurping sound, like the last of a soda being sucked through a straw. A thick mass of seaweed slapped against his face, temporarily blinding Daniel. As he reached for the ensnaring kelp, he heard a terrifying sound, one that pierced him with its ominous tone—and its familiarity. Daniel looked up at the face he saw on the bus.
It was almost a hundred feet tall. Its skin was pallid and sickly, with dark colors streaked across in random directions, resembling tributaries branching from a great river. Where there should have been hair was a mass of thin, floating seaweed. The nose was craggy, as if large chunks had broken off over the years, while bubbles floated in and out of its cavernous nostrils. Where eyes should have been, there were black holes, with two reefs of sharp coral in their place. The appearance was corpselike, but the face was alive, a living cadaver sucking everything in sight—and Daniel was heading right into its open maw.
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