Tristan Strong Punches a Hole in the Sky

by Kwame Mbalia

  We’d tumbled into the glowing slash in the ground. We plummeted without slowing one bit, spinning and twisting at dizzying speeds. It was like a sink of burning anger, and we were swirling down the drain.

  I tried to scream, but the forest’s pained roar drowned me out. Gum Baby clutched my wrist tight as we fell for what seemed like forever, dropping like stones through the whirlpool of fire.

  PAIN.

  Confusion.

  Fear.

  Darkness.

  And then, echoing all around me, a voice: “Hey now, hey now…I gotcha, big man, I gotcha.”

  A match was struck, and a lantern flared to life overhead. The soft yellow glow didn’t eliminate the shadows so much as it outlined them. I was lying in the middle of a rustic room, like the inside of a cabin or a wooden shed. Who was speaking? I couldn’t make out much except for the shadows and that lantern.

  Water dripped from the ceiling, and the smell of old swamp and rotting vegetation filled the air. My eyes started to tear up, and I coughed as the vapors got into my nose and lungs.

  “Easy now, Tristan. That is your name, right?”

  “W-who’s that?” I asked in mid-cough.

  “Aw shoot, big man, I’m nobody. Just didn’t want you to fall to your death, is all. I saved you, just like you saved me.”

  My chest burned, but I stood up and wiped the tears from my eyes. “Where are you?”

  One shadow detached from the rest, but it had no shape. It oozed up, and I shuddered as a familiar pressure gathered around my shoulder blades. This was the thing from the Bottle Tree forest, from the broken bottle. I’d recognize that feeling of despair anywhere.

  “I saved you?” I asked.

  “You did, Tristan, so I had to repay the favor. I’ve been waiting for you. You got something I need, and if we work together—shoot, this whole world can be ours. They won’t know what hit ’em. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Why don’t you hand me that book of yours and we can get started.”

  “Book?” I shook my head, then froze. Eddie’s journal. The fight. Gum Baby. I whirled around, looking for the little terror and my backpack, but all I saw was darkness.

  “Yes. The book.” The voice went from smooth to impatient. “Where is it?”

  “I—I don’t know.” I dropped my head into my hands. “I lost it. I need to find it.”

  A growl echoed around the room before it faded to a soft purr. “Yeeeeah. You do that. I need that book, Tristan, so when you find it, you bring it to me, and we can get this party started, you hear? Don’t you tell a soul, boy, and don’t dally…. Naw, don’t you try and play me one bit. ’Cause I’ll know.”

  Wind whistled in my ear, and my clothes fluttered as if a huge gust was blowing through.

  “Wait, where am I? Who are you?”

  Why was everyone after Eddie’s journal? Why did this…thing need it so badly?

  “We saved each other, so we’re practically kinfolk.” The voice began to disappear in the howling wind, and I could barely hear the final words. “Just call me Uncle C.”

  “Tristan! Tristaaaan!”

  I was falling again. Whatever that place was, whoever that voice was, it all got driven to the back of my mind when I opened my eyes to a nightmare.

  Gum Baby’s back was stuck to my wrist as if it were glued there as we continued to tumble down the fiery tunnel. Luckily she was holding on to Eddie’s glowing green journal for dear life. Swirling below us was a dark, boiling sea, so horrifying that even my screams started screaming. Wind whipped my cheeks and pulled tears from my eyes. I squeezed them shut. Whatever was going to happen next would happen—I didn’t need to see it.

  Splash!

  The impact drove the breath from my lungs. My skin prickled. The water temperature bubbled a few degrees above comfortable—not scalding as I’d feared, but hot enough to scare me. Panicking, I opened my mouth to cry out in surprise, and water surged inside. I swallowed by accident and it burned on the way down. Swim! I told myself. Swim, Tristan, or you’re done for.

  I forced my eyes open and tried to figure out which direction was up. Blurry light flickered in the distance. My legs kicked me toward it on their own, my lungs screaming for air, and I clawed my way to what I hoped was the surface. Shadowy shapes streaked past, and—oh, man—something slimy brushed my ankle.

  I’d had it by that point. This was how Tristan Strong was going to meet his end? In a giant dirty hot tub?

  Just when I thought I couldn’t go any farther and my chest felt like it was going to explode, my head broke the surface. I coughed and spluttered.

  “Blech!”

  My mouth tasted like old pennies and warm spoiled milk. Yeah…think about that flavor.

  “Gum Baby?” I called out hoarsely. I kicked and paddled, doing my best to tread water as I sucked down air, and looked around in confusion. “Gum Baby, where…?”

  The question died on my tongue as I took in my surroundings.

  Fires burned on the sea. Not little fires, either, but massive walls of flame that licked high into the air. The current carried infernos everywhere, and their bright blazes turned the water into swirling oranges and reds. Steam hissed up from the surface and collected into clouds a few feet above my head. Through an occasional break in the mist I could see that it was still nighttime. And there, high above, the fiery tunnel we’d fallen through scarred the sky.

  I looked down. Lights twinkled on and off in the depths, and at first I thought it was the reflection of the stars. Then I saw a long shadow pass underneath me—a leviathan somehow lit from beneath—and I gulped.

  Where the heck had we landed?

  “Bumbletongue!” The cry came from behind me. “Help! Gum Baby can’t sw—glublublub. Gum Baby can’t swim!”

  I tore my eyes away from the shape below and whipped my head around. Sure enough, there was the little thief, flailing in the water a short distance away. I paddled over, a million questions fighting to be first out my mouth.

  Gum Baby floated on her back, hugging the journal tightly like a life preserver. Her little legs kicked helplessly in the air, and a tiny fire burned on one foot. I splashed her to douse the flame, then grabbed the journal and lifted it—with Gum Baby still attached—out of the water with one hand. I hoped it wasn’t ruined. (The book, not the doll. She could float there forever for all I cared.)

  “About time!” Gum Baby, now hanging on from below, coughed and glared at me. “What took you so long? Gum Baby ain’t a fish. Come on, we have to—”

  “Where are we?” I asked, cutting her off.

  “What?”

  “Where are we? What happened? Did you see a shadow thing, with the voice and the smells, before we splashed down? Why am I floating in an ocean of fire, and why are there stars under us, and what happened to my backpack?”

  Gum Baby waved one arm and a wet glob of sap plopped into the sea. “Shh. Gum Baby don’t know what you talking about half the time, and the other half she ain’t got the patience. No time to answer all those questions. Well, maybe there is, but you drain me. Like a straw. Here you come, and—fwoop!—all my energy is gone.”

  I growled and shook the journal. She nearly lost her grip.

  “Okay, okay! Stop messing around. Gum Baby don’t feel so good.”

  More sap plopped down as if to prove her point. As I continued to tread water with only one arm, I gave thanks for Dad’s swim training. He used to make me do laps in the local community center pool when it was too cold outside to go running.

  I tilted my head, trying to get water out of my ears, and for a second I thought I heard a drumbeat and clapping. But that was silly. I turned back to my sticky little companion.

  “Where. Are. We?” I asked again through gritted teeth.

  “Shh. Gum Baby’s trying to tell you, now ain’t the time for talking. If they hear us, we’re in trouble.”

  “They? Who’s they?”

  Just then, a splash sounded in the distance, and Gum Baby shushed me aga
in. She stared into the fire and fog, her wet black curls plastered to her carved wooden head. After a second, she relaxed.

  “Can’t be so loud,” she muttered.

  I didn’t know if she was talking to me or to herself, but either way, it wasn’t reassuring. I blinked salt out of my eyes and spat out another mouthful of sour seawater. I’m going to need eight bottles of mouthwash after this, I thought.

  “What is this place?” I asked. “Some sort of underground salt lake? I didn’t think Alabama had these.”

  “What? No.” Gum Baby looked surprised, as if I should know. “This ain’t no Alabama, wherever that is.”

  “Maybe Mississippi, then?”

  “I don’t know no Mrs. Ippy, and you can tell her Gum Baby said that.”

  “No, that’s not—”

  “Look, enough with the flappy-lip jibjab. We need to hurry before—”

  There was another splash, then another that sounded even closer, and Gum Baby froze up.

  “They’re coming,” she whispered.

  “Who is they?!”

  A rippling sound echoed across the water. We both turned to see a column of floating fire curving through the water toward us, and with every second it picked up speed. The ripples it made turned into flame-capped waves as a long, gnarled shape sliced up through the surface and into the air.

  My eyes nearly fell out.

  “Holy—”

  “Ship!” Gum Baby screamed.

  A vessel unlike any I’d seen before rose from the deep. Its hull was two giant white hands cupped together, the fingertips touching at the prow. Knobby knuckles poked out along the side. It had no sail, just a single bare mast that jutted up mid-ship, a daggerlike tower that cut through the curtains of steam. No one could be seen on deck. It was just a weird hand-ship the size of a yacht, sailing without a captain, roaring across a burning sea toward us.

  Oh, and it wasn’t made of painted wood, like I’d thought.

  “Those are bones!” I yelled at Gum Baby.

  “Stop shouting and swim, fool!”

  The spooky ship creaked as it listed to one side, turning to sweep down on us. Horrible sounds floated to us across the waves: a thousand sufferers moaning and crying out. Desperate. Infuriated. Scared. Hungry. I didn’t know who—or what—was making the noise, but I wasn’t planning on sticking around to find out.

  I shivered despite the hot water, floundering with one arm, the other supporting Eddie’s journal and Gum Baby. “I can’t swim and hold you,” I said.

  “Hand over the stories and put Gum Baby on your back. Now!”

  “On my back? I’m not—”

  “Put Gum Baby on your back, Bumbletongue! Stop chitchattin’ and move it!”

  I swallowed several choice angry words and slipped Gum Baby onto my shoulders. I didn’t trust her with Eddie’s journal, but the ship was barreling toward us and I needed both hands free.

  “You lose that book,” I said, “or run away with it again, and I’ll turn you into an incense holder.”

  Gum Baby patted the top of my head. “Shh, fishy. Just swim toward the cloud of steam when Gum Baby says go. These things don’t turn around easy, so even your dusty tail should be able to escape.”

  I hated that doll. I hated it with a burning passion.

  “Ready…”

  The ship moaned at us. It was a white and sharp predator trailing fountains of fire behind it.

  “Steady…”

  I licked my lips. “Gum Baby, it’s nearly—”

  She smacked the back of my head. “Hush, fool! We’ve got one shot at this. Bone ships look scary, but you can avoid them easy enough if you know how.”

  Oh great, they were even called bone ships. That didn’t make things better.

  Just when it seemed like we were moments away from being crushed, just when the front of the bone ship—no way!—groaned open, the fingertips lowering to SCOOP US UP…Gum Baby shouted in my ear, “Go, go, go!”

  My body responded to the command before I could protest. Dad used to shout the same thing at me from the side of the pool when I did my laps. I gave a mighty kick, my legs scissoring through the water, and I darted forward. I didn’t look behind me, but I knew the ship was close. The surge it was creating nearly pulled me under. I fought it, my arms flashing in and out of the water like Dad had taught me, and then the ship passed us by. We were safe.

  “Go there!” Gum Baby screamed, pointing.

  A thick gray-white cloud of steam hovered ahead. It drifted over a calm spot just beyond the waves, and, thankfully, no fires were burning nearby. I dug deep for a bit more energy and kicked forward. Another moan echoed over the water, taking my mind off how heavy my arms felt. Exhausted and free beats resting in the bowels of a skeleton ship, you get me?

  Gum Baby patted my head as we approached.

  “Good fishy. Scoot on in there and wait until—”

  A bellowing moan—even louder, deeper, and scarier than the first—sounded right in front of us. I could feel it through the water, in my chest, and I threw my arms out and floated to a stop.

  Gum Baby squeaked, and something rolled down my back.

  “Please tell me that was sap,” I whispered, treading water.

  “Um…okay.”

  I couldn’t even get angry. I was too tired. Too drained. Too afraid that…

  Another bone ship lunged out of the thick cloud of steam in front of us. Cloudy wisps clung to it like spiderwebs. Even though it was about the same size as the first, its horrific shape made it seem larger.

  It was the jawbone of some enormous reptile. Long and thin and pale, it cut through the sea like a powerboat. Strands of something I didn’t want to look at too closely trailed from between its enormous teeth. Burning seawater streamed down its sides, and it let loose a soul-crushing bellow as it began to pick up speed.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw yet another streak of white in the water. A third ship surfaced from beneath, like a submarine from a horror show. This bone ship looked like a rib cage, curved bones curling up as it erupted out of the sea.

  The first ship, Bone Hands, circled around behind us.

  We were trapped.

  “Gum Baby, where do I go? What do I do?”

  Silence.

  I could feel Gum Baby lying between my shoulder blades, shivering.

  “Gum Baby, get up! What do I do? Where am I going?”

  The three ships closed in. Rib Cage rattled as it drew near. Jawbone continued to blast us with that deep groaning bellow. I turned to see the Hands open again, the hungry maw between the fingertips dark and foul. A chorus of moans tortured my ears while a gust of hot, rotten air clawed up my nostrils.

  “Gum Baby, what do—?”

  A high-pitched whistle split the night.

  Gum Baby leaped to her feet and scrambled to the top of my head. “Gum Baby don’t believe it!” she said, her voice excited.

  “What?”

  “We’re saved!”

  “Saved? How?”

  But she didn’t answer. Instead, she jumped up and down on my head and started shouting at the top of her tiny little lungs. I didn’t know doll babies had lungs.

  “HERE!” Her shrill voice—and her tiny feet beating on my skull—made me wince. “WE’RE DOWN HERE!”

  Nothing happened.

  The bone ships surged closer, hemming us in, and I looked around wildly for some way to escape. I could dive beneath them, but Eddie’s journal (and yes, I guess, the annoying, sticky little creature holding it) would be hard to hold on to while I swam. Besides, my legs felt like anchors by then, and those ships had come from beneath the sea—there was no telling how many more of them lurked below. I couldn’t avoid them for much longer.

  The Hands swept forward, seconds away from funneling me inside….

  Something splashed down into the water next to me.

  “Grab the rope!”

  The voice—a girl’s—came out of the air above us. A giant wooden raft the size
of a boxing ring floated in the night sky, a rope dangling over its edge. A hysterical chuckle bubbled in my chest. Of course. A flying raft. Why didn’t I think of that?

  “Grab it, grab it!” Gum Baby shouted, and I lunged for the thick line. I felt the doll crawl into my soaking-wet hood, and not a moment too soon. The rope grew taut, and whoever was on the raft pulled us up. The razor-sharp mast of the Hands barely missed slicing the sole of my foot open, and then we were clear, soaring into the night.

  THE FIRST THING I SAW when I rolled onto the raft was a carved staff. Its golden tip, a face twisted into a snarl, stared down at me.

  “Who are you?” the staff’s owner demanded.

  I stared at the tip, which moved from side to side hypnotically, like a cobra getting ready to strike. “Uhh…”

  “I won’t ask again. Who are you?”

  “My name is Tristan,” I said. “Tristan Strong.”

  “Tristan Strong. Hmph. Well, Tristan Strong, what are you doing flopping about in the Burning Sea? You could’ve dragged us all down into a right nasty time trying to rescue you.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Sorry don’t feed the hungry.” The staff lowered, though, and I finally snapped out of my trance and glimpsed who was wielding it.

  A short round girl with honey-brown skin and gold snake bangles curling up her arm glared at me. She looked my age, maybe a year older. Her hair was pulled back in two thick braids that disappeared behind her head, and she wore a sleeveless gold tank top, black pants with gold trim that stopped mid-calf, and brown sandals with beaded straps that tied around her ankles.

  Someone—no, several someones—huddled behind her at the other end of the raft. A group of about a dozen clustered together, all wearing long, dingy gray cloaks with hoods that hid their faces. They stood among rumpled leather sacks, and they clung desperately to rope handrails on the sides of the raft. My eyes shifted between them and the girl.

  “Well, get up,” she ordered.

  I stood slowly. My legs jiggled like wet spaghetti, and I could barely lift my arms. Tired didn’t even begin to describe it. It felt like everything, from Gum Baby to the Bottle Tree to the weird shadow man to the Burning Sea to the bone ships, was piled up in a wobbly tower in my mind. Any second now, it would all come tumbling down and bury me in confusion.