Cyrus LongBones Box Set

by Jeremy Mathiesen

  “Come on,” Cyrus groaned.

  With all his might, he tried to pull his brother out. He heaved until his face turned red and his back became numb. He felt the bloody, E-shaped welt on his side split open. Cringing, he held on. At the same time, Niels grappled with the ledge, attempting to climb free, but he was too weak and disoriented.

  “Cyrus, I- can’t hold on,” Niels breathed.

  Cyrus turned to the villagers passing by.

  “Help!” he shouted.

  But they only ignored him and leaped over the chasm, terrified. He grabbed at their clothes. They shook him off like mud.

  “You’re all cowards!” he screamed.

  He even cursed them by name, but nothing worked. No one would come to their aid.

  From the strength of the tremors, Cyrus felt that the cave-in was mere moments away.

  “Come on, Niels, you have to climb,” he said, panicking.

  “I can’t,” Niels gasped, his hands slowly slipping.

  He seemed to be struggling to keep his eyes open.

  “I can’t do this myself,” Cyrus yelled, still hanging onto his brother.

  He felt as if he was being ripped in two.

  “I can’t hold on,” Niels groaned.

  “You have to climb!” Cyrus cried.

  A nearby tree splintered from its roots. Twigs and soil snapped into the air. Then the tree began to lean and moan. Cyrus watched in frozen terror as the giant started to tilt in their direction.

  “Cyrus, move,” his brother groaned.

  Faster and faster the tree descended towards them.

  “Move,” Niels screamed.

  Something inside Cyrus took over. He rolled instinctively away from the hole. The tree smashed the earth. Cyrus’ bones rattled in their joints. Branches clubbed his body while pine needles showered his flesh. Dust filled the air, along with the scent of sap and split timber. His head reeled while his very soul hummed and rang.

  “Niels,” he wheezed.

  He tried to look about. Dirt scratched and burned his eyes.

  “Niels,” he coughed a second time.

  He could hear nothing over the ringing in his ears.

  “Niels…”

  He began to drag himself from beneath the fallen tree. Branches tore at his clothes and skin while sap stuck to his hands. After much effort, Cyrus climbed free and found his footing. Again, the ground shunted and shook and he lost his balance. He slammed headfirst into a tree trunk. His mind flashed white. He took a deep breath and again tried to call for Niels. His throat filled with dust and he began to choke.

  The earth continued to rumble as Cyrus tried to feel his way through the dusty haze. His head ached, and he could sense something warm running down his face. He kept moving in circles, unable to find a path around the sharp branches and thick cornstalks. His breathing grew labored.

  With all the breath he could manage, Cyrus screamed, “Niels!” then fell into a heap on the ground.

  He coughed and sobbed as he punched the earth, feeling frustrated and helpless. How long could Niels hold on? Cyrus tried to crawl blindly along the ground but met only thick brush and broken timber. He did not even know in which direction he should move. Then he began to hear hundreds of tiny voices calling out. The cries seemed to echo. He moved on all fours in the direction of the shouts, using his shirt to filter each breath.

  He crawled head first into a mailbox’s post. The mailbox read ‘CobblePop Corn Farm.’ Cyrus squinted his stinging eyes and looked about for his brother. The quaking had stopped, and the dust began to clear. At first, Cyrus’ eyes could not focus. Then a queasy falling feeling punched through his ribs. He scrambled away from the mailbox.

  Where moments ago, a cornfield had stretched out row upon row, there was now a crumbling ledge and a dizzying drop. Three-quarters of the island’s center had vanished into the once-underground lake, and like the top of a caved-in pie, only the outer crust of the island remained. Forests of trees and clumps of undergrowth floated freely in the enormous bowl of island soup. Villagers, lost in the pit, clung to what scraps of buildings and farm equipment they could find. They screamed in pain and called out for help.

  Cyrus searched the waters for any sign of Niels, but he was gone, lost between the swimming pigs, splashing goats, bubbling houses and sinking orchards.

  “Niels, I’m so sorry,” Cyrus sobbed, “I tried. I’m sorry…”

  Chapter 11

  RESCUE

  CYRUS SAT AT THE EDGE of the sinkhole, his mind racing with worry and dread. What do I do? Niels could be drowning down there, and I can’t help him. Then he remembered the boat.

  Cyrus raced towards the eastern bend of the Ring Road and plunged into Hekswood Forest. Once over the Dead Fence, he sprinted in the direction of Edward’s tree.

  “Edward, I need your help,” he said, as he arrived panting, looking up into the tree’s branches.

  Several long legs emerged out of a knot in the trunk.

  “What’s going on?” the spider asked, climbing free of the hole.

  “It’s Niels, come on.”

  Cyrus plucked Edward from the tree and dashed towards the waterfall. Along the way, he told the spider everything, from the OddFoot journal to the loss of his brother.

  “We’ll find him,” Edward said, “I promise.”

  As they reached the fall, they found the South River all but dried up, leaving the usually hidden cave entrance illuminated and exposed.

  “The cave-in’s destroyed the water supply,” Cyrus gasped.

  With Edward on his shoulder, he ran into the cave, past the boat and down towards the shore of the underground lake. Only it was no longer underground. Where there had once been a dimly lit shore that kissed the edge of black, watery nothingness, there was now a huge sun-lit lake, full of the broken remains of Virkelot Village.

  “Holy Sea Zombie,” Edward whispered, “It’s worse than I imagined…”

  Far off in the middle of the lake, villagers screamed for help and paddled in circles. Some tried to climb the dome-like walls of the fossilized prison, but none had found the lone route of escape. They were too far away from the cave’s shore, and the relatively small opening was lost in the vast bowl of sky-high rock.

  “We don’t have time for them,” Cyrus said, “We have to find Niels.”

  He collected the lantern from the ledge and mounted it to the boat’s bow, then dragged the craft to the water’s edge. Once aboard, they paddled out into the lake. Edward sprang from Cyrus’ shoulder and found his way to the top of the mast. Cyrus began to steer towards the center of the reservoir, pushing past floating trees, swimming pigs, bubbling chests and bobbing apples. The air tasted of wet animals and ripped lumber.

  “Niels!” he called out.

  Instead, several other stranded and helpless villagers replied. Cyrus saw them clinging to trees and pigs, or sitting on top of floating outhouses or barns. Some appeared to have broken legs and arms, others nasty cuts and bruises.

  “Have you seen my brother?” Cyrus called to them, “Have you seen Niels?”

  They all replied no.

  “Please, help,” several called back.

  Cyrus pointed to the cave opening on the distant shore.

  “Head for that cavern. It leads to a way out.”

  “Cyrus,” Edward whispered, “some of them are hurt. We have to help.”

  Cyrus felt torn in two. He wanted to help, but Niels came first.

  “They wouldn’t help us,” he finally replied, steeling his emotions, “And now Niels is trapped down here, maybe drowning, or worse.”

  “What about your stepmom?” Edward asked.

  Cyrus felt the bloody welt stamped into his ribs. Llysa had been on his mind as well. Secretly he hoped that she would never be found, that she had succumbed to some cold, dark end. He prayed that he would never have to see her again…

  He and Edward began to paddle past bobbing hedges and around floating sheds and buggies, calling out for Nie
ls and searching the village’s drifting remains. They poked around floating trees and picked through bales of hay.

  “Cyrus,” a weak voice cried out, “help, I can’t swim.”

  “Over there,” Edward said, pointing to someone floating amongst a heap of brambles.

  “Sarah?” Cyrus called back.

  It was Sarah Heiler, the girl that had always been nice to him. She was clinging to a wooden barrel. The barrel kept rolling in the water, making it hard for her to grasp.

  “Cyrus hel-”

  Sarah slipped under the water, then reemerged, gasping for air and clawing at the barrel.

  Cough, hack.

  “Help!”

  Cyrus felt something in his chest leap. He could not let Sarah drown.

  “I’m coming,” he said, paddling towards her as she splashed amongst the floating thickets.

  “Cyrus!”

  Again, Sarah sunk below the surface.

  Cyrus began to panic. What was he supposed to do? She bobbed up a second time, splashing and choking down water.

  “Hurry!” Edward said.

  Cyrus struggled the boat through the fringe of thick brambles.

  “Cyru-”

  Sarah slipped from the barrel and sunk below the icy chill a third time. Cyrus finally cleared the debris and pushed towards the center.

  “Sarah?”

  He watched the glassy surface.

  “Sarah!”

  He peered into the murk, searching for her struggling form.

  “She’s drowning,” Edward said.

  “What do I do?” Cyrus asked, his voice shrill.

  “Jump in after her,” Edward demanded.

  Cyrus looked up at the spider, terrified. Then, not giving himself a chance to hesitate, he dived into the lake. The cold bit at his flesh, stabbing through his ribs and into his lungs. He opened his eyes. A brownish green atmosphere surrounded him, thick and dark. He kicked forward, towards where he had last seen Sarah. The lake water tasted of fall rain. Cyrus came up for breath.

  “Sarah,” he gasped, flicking water from his blond mop, “where is she?”

  “She hasn’t come back up,” Edward said.

  Cyrus sucked in a lung full of air and plunged below. His clothes were heavy and hard to swim in, and he could only see a few feet before him. Sarah was drowning. He could not fail her. He had to try harder. He kicked and pulled with all his strength in a descending circle, doing his best to search beneath where last he had seen her. The first several feet were green and hazy, but below that, the lake became as black as oil. Cyrus grew confused. Was he swimming in the right place? He turned back around and kicked deeper into the murk. The water grew colder the further down he swam. His lungs started to strain. He paused in the deep and peered about, looking up, down, left and right. She could be three feet in front of him, and he would never see her. The strain in his chest grew unbearable. He tried to swim further. His body fought back, panicky and desperate for air. It was hopeless. He couldn’t help anyone. Not Niels, not Sarah, not even himself. He abandoned his search and retreated to the surface. He could feel something icy shift in his belly. Then a deep shame crawled up from his guts and wrapped its cold tendrils around his pounding heart.

  Chapter 12

  LOST

  SOMETHING CLUTCHED CYRUS around the ankle and began to pull him into the deep. He panicked and started to kick free. Then he looked below. There he saw Sarah, white as a ghost, clawing and scrambling at his trousers. With the last of his breath, he reached down and grasped her wrist. Sarah’s writhing form became limp in his hand. He kicked and began to pull her back towards the surface. Cyrus swam with all his might, his lungs starved and his chest struggling to inhale. A dark fog began to close in around the edges of his vision.

  He broke the surface, sucking air like a whale, and pulled Sarah to his chest. Cyrus wheezed and choked, fighting to keep Sarah’s head above water. He peered about. His eyes swam with stars. The boat! Where was the boat?

  “Cyrus, over here, quick,” Edward said.

  Cyrus turned and found their craft floating right behind them. He swam closer and rested Sarah’s chest over the nearest pontoon. Then, struggling to catch his breath, he climbed, kicking and clawing, back into the boat. To Cyrus’ relief, Sarah began to cough and hack up lake water, pulling in air in deep gasps. Cyrus hauled her from the pontoon and helped her climb aboard. She fell to the floor, cold and white, her silver hair a mask across her sunken face. Cyrus noticed how her sopping dress clung to her slender body, the subtle swell of her chest. His eyes grew wide, and butterflies filled his belly. He looked away, his cheeks growing hot with embarrassment.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Thank you…” she whispered.

  Then she passed out in a heap on the floor.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Cyrus said.

  “We have to get her to shore,” Edward replied, scurrying down the mast.

  Cyrus scrambled, sopping wet, to the rear of the craft and began to paddle hard for the cave opening. His back ached from the pace, but still, time seemed to pass unbearably slowly.

  When finally they reached the shoreline, they met a group of villagers arriving on a makeshift raft. Cyrus looked to the crow’s nest. Edward was crouched down, a black and yellow dot on the top of the mast.

  “Please, you must take Sarah to her father,” Cyrus said to the group, “She nearly drowned and won’t wake up. Dr. Heiler will know what to do.”

  The villagers exchanged curious looks and muffled whispers at the sight of Cyrus’ floating contraption.

  “She could die,” Cyrus pleaded.

  After a moment’s hesitation, the group crowded around and lifted Sarah from the boat. Cyrus wondered if he should warn them about where they were headed. Then again, did it really matter? Either way, the villagers would surely blame him for their being on the forbidden side of the fence.

  After several more hours on the lake, Cyrus’ search for Niels was proving fruitless. Day was turning to dusk. Most of the villagers had escaped the pit, paddling towards the cavern on objects such as fence timbers and housing beams. Others clung to swimming donkeys and cows. The moon rose, and the search went on. Cyrus’ hopes wore thin. He tried to stay positive, struggled to stay hopeful, but he found that they were moving in circles, checking the same places repeatedly. Cyrus felt time was running out. He started to curse aloud.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Edward said.

  “It’s not going to be okay,” Cyrus shouted, kicking the boat, “Where the Angels is he? We’ve searched every last stick in this stupid lake, and we haven’t found a thing. It’s hopeless.”

  Edward spindled off the boom and onto Cyrus’ hand.

  “Come on, Cyrus. You can’t give up hope.”

  “Hope? What hope?”

  Cyrus smashed a fist against the wooden hull. Tears formed in his mostly-blue eyes.

  “I’m a useless bastard. My stepmom’s right. I can’t help anyone. I couldn’t help Niels out of the pit. I almost left Sarah to drown, and I sure as Angels can’t help Niels now.”

  He sighed heavily and sat with his face in his hands, while he and Edward drifted across the water with only the lantern light and cold air for company.

  “Cyrus…” hummed a low voice from out of the blackness.

  Cyrus was ripped from his self-loathing stupor. He grabbed the lantern from the bow and held it high in the air.

  “Niels, is that you?”

  Both he and Edward listened for a response.

  “Can you see anything, Edward?”

  The little spider leaped back onto the mast and climbed to the top.

  “Nothing from here,” he whispered.

  “Cyrusss…”

  This time it was closer. It came from the starboard side of the boat. Cyrus turned the craft and paddled in the direction of the lost voice. He found himself cutting a path through clumps of rubbish and muck.

  “You see anything yet?” he
asked.

  The spider paused, then said, “Over there.”

  Cyrus turned towards where Edward was staring. He saw nothing. He looked back at the spider. Edward’s two eyes were fixed. Confused, Cyrus shifted to the front of the boat and shone the lantern high in the air. He searched the water for whatever had captured his friend’s attention. Then he spotted it. There was something, or someone crouched on a floating tree. It was just outside the torch’s glow.

  “Niels, is that you?” Cyrus asked.

  “I don’t like this,” Edward whispered.

  Cyrus motioned him to be quiet.

  “Niels, please answer.”

  Still, the person did not move. It hunched deathly still on the decaying log.

  “Edward, we have to help him.”

  The spider scuttled down the ship’s mast and onto Cyrus’ shoulder.

  “I don’t think it’s your brother, Cyrus. We should get away from here.”

  Cyrus was not going to fail Niels a second time. He steered the ship around a slowly sinking bed and bookshelf and rowed closer to the shape on the log.

  “Niels, I’m coming.”

  “This is all wrong, Cyrus.”

  The figure slid towards them along the trunk. Cyrus stopped paddling immediately. No person moved like that.

  “I told you,” Edward hissed, “Get us out of here.”

  The creature began to uncoil from its crouch and rise to its full height. The lantern light glanced off its back, exposing its dark, smooth skin. Cyrus could see its spine through its thin flesh. He felt goosebumps rush up his arms. His chest tingled, then grew ice cold. The creature turned its long, slender neck and looked back at the two. Its eyes flashed open and shone a dim blue.

  “It’s the demon!” Cyrus gasped, falling back in the boat.

  Its body was long and lean and its head slender, but the creature’s facial features were difficult to detect in the darkness. It turned its back on the two, and the light from its eyes fell upon a larger shape at its side. Then the stranger lowered itself into the water and melted into the murk.

  “What was that?” Edward asked.