Jackson Jones, Book 2

by Jenn L. Kelly

  Jackson squatted and dragged his peanut buttery hand across the floor, making a peanut butter line. He knew the squirrels could smell it now. Their whiskers quivered ever so slightly. Jackson slowly stood up. He held up the jar of peanut butter over his head.

  “Who wants to play a game?” Jackson shouted as loudly as he could. He tried to smile, but it is never easy to smile when you are terrified.

  Ralph took a small step forward. The other 3,485 squirrels began shivering with excitement. Ralph chirped quietly and leaned in slightly toward Jackson, as if to listen.

  “Yes, of course, everyone can play!” Jackson was just guessing what Ralph was saying. He hoped he was guessing correctly. “It’s called ‘Hide and Seek,’” he said. “Anyone know how to play?”

  Ralph gave a high bark, and all of the squirrels lifted their paws.

  “I’m going to hide this jar of peanut butter,” said Jackson. “But you all have to go inside the room, close the door, and count to one hundred. Then, when you’re done counting, come look for the peanut butter. Whoever finds it wins the jar!” Jackson shook the jumbo-sized jar in his hand. All 3,486 faces looked up reverently at the peanut butter.

  Ralph chittered and chirped. All at once, in unison, the squirrels dropped to their feet and ran back the way they had come. Jackson followed them, the jar still in his hands. “Don’t forget to count to one hundred!” he yelled. “And no cheating!” He closed the black door and pulled out the toilet paper.

  With a series of complicated knots and about thirty seconds later, Jackson had rigged a net to fall onto whoever opened the door. He put his ear to the door and listened. He could hear loud barking and chirping. Jackson laughed. He knew squirrels couldn’t count. They might be there for a while.

  At least, he didn’t think they could count.

  He ran down the hallway toward the root room and began digging a hole with his bare hands to bury the peanut butter.

  “Want some help?”

  chapter 64

  In Which the Squirrels Learn to Count to One Hundred

  Jackson looked up to meet a pair of bright green eyes. “Why did you take off? That was a really mean thing to do!” Jackson hissed as he dug faster.

  Alfonso began digging as well. “What do you mean? I said to run …”

  “On the count of three!” Jackson finished for him. “That wasn’t three!”

  “It wasn’t? Huh.” Alfonso kept digging. “So, what are we doing?”

  “We’re burying the peanut butter, and then I’m out of here!”

  “Why are you burying my lunch? I like peanut butter!” Alfonso complained.

  “Um, I’m saving my life. And probably yours. Quit complaining and help me!” Jackson threw the jar into the shallow hole and scrambled to cover it back up. They patted the soil down and threw some rags on top to disguise the hole.

  “Let’s get out of here! Follow me!” Alfonso stood up and began running. Jackson jumped up and followed closely behind.

  A low rumble vibrated the ground.

  “I think they figured out how to count to one hundred,” Jackson said.

  “Or they’re cheating. They are squirrels,” Alfonso said, hardly pausing for a breath as they sprinted down a hall.

  The rumbling was getting louder.

  “Quick. Duck in here!” Jackson called out to Alfonso.

  They climbed into a hole in the wall, shimmied through a very tight tunnel, and finally found themselves in a much larger room.

  “Wait. Wait!” Alfonso called out. Jackson stopped and looked back at him.

  “I know this place!” Alfonso began to walk around the room, his eyes wide as he touched the walls.

  Jackson looked around the room.

  It looked like the inside of a house.

  A round table with four wooden chairs sat in the middle of the room. There were two place settings and a vase with dried dusty flowers off to the side.

  Jackson followed Alfonso around the room. Little shelves filled with books, knickknacks, troll dolls with crazy hair, and framed pictures, lined the walls. Jackson picked up one of the pictures and studied it. A short, squat elf was smiling as he held a short female elf beside him. Jackson brought the picture to Alfonso. “Is this you?” he said.

  Alfonso trembled as he reached out to take it. “Zuzu,” he breathed.

  “What?”

  Alfonso traced the image of the female elf. “Zuzu. That’s … that’s my wife.” He hugged the frame.

  “Where is she now?” Jackson asked.

  Alfonso looked at Jackson blankly. “I–I don’t know!” Alfonso ran to the next room. Jackson followed.

  A large bed, neatly made with an old quilt was against the wall. And lying on the bed was a very small, very old elf with long, dirty red hair. She wasn’t moving.

  Alfonso began to scream.

  chapter 65

  In Which We Witness a Joyful Reunion

  Sometimes sad things happen. Some things you didn’t think would happen do happen. Especially when you least want them to.

  But this is not one of those times.

  Zuzu’s eyes opened. And she screamed.

  Alfonso jumped back and Jackson jumped back and then Zuzu jumped up.

  Zuzu reached out for Alfonso. “Are you a — a dream?” she asked.

  Alfonso began to tremble. Then he ran forward and embraced her.

  Jackson smiled and turned away, because sometimes people need a moment of privacy. Jackson knew that this was one of those times. Jackson went back into the main room and sat down at the table. And waited.

  But the rumbling was getting louder.

  And closer.

  chapter 66

  Which Is Only Six Sentences Long

  Jm, guys?” Jackson called to the other room. “I’m glad you’ve found each other, but … they’re coming.”

  Zuzu appeared in the doorway. She looked up at Jackson with her bright brown eyes. A look of fierce determination came over her face.

  “Let them come,” she said.

  chapter 67

  Which Is a Little Bit Longer than the Last Chapter

  Zuzu reached into the closet and pulled out a large jar of peanut butter. Jackson frowned. He peeked into the closet. There must have been hundreds of jars of peanut butter there, all stacked up.

  Zuzu walked to the front door and waited. Alfonso grabbed a jar of peanut butter as well and gave one to Jackson. “I always knew that peanut butter was important, but I couldn’t remember why,” Alfonso said. “But I always carried a jar around.” Zuzu smiled and squeezed his arm.

  The rumbling got louder. And there was a definite … squeaking noise. Yes, a very loud squeaking. Actually, it sounded like many squeakings.

  “When I give the word,” said Zuzu, “we open the door and …”

  BOOM!

  BOOM!

  BOOM!

  “Now!” cried Zuzu. Alfonso took a deep breath and flung open the door. “Yes? May I help you?”

  chapter 68

  In Which Alfonso Finds a New Line of Work

  A very large ball of white toilet paper netting, black fur, and sticky peanut butter stood before them. Each of the 3,486 squirrels was squeaking indignantly. Ralph pulled himself through a mess of squirrels to the front of the crazy net. He chirped unhappily.

  “Ah, ah, I see!” said Alfonso.

  “What he’s saying?” Jackson asked. He held his jar of peanut butter behind his back.

  “Shhh!” Zuzu hissed.

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re uncomfortable,” Alfonso was saying, “but that’s all part of the game.” Ralph waved his paws around and the other squirrels kept on chattering.

  “Of course, I’ll help you out. You do understand that the net was all part of the game? No? Ah. That’s how humans play, you see. No harm, no foul.” Alfonso reached out and snipped apart the toilet paper net. Slowly but stickily, 3,486 squirrels disentangled themselves from the mess. They all lined up behind Ralph.

  “S
o, who was the one to find the peanut butter?” Jackson asked. He was feeling a bit braver now.

  Ralph squeaked and barked. Alfonso nodded.

  “Er … slight mishap. Better let them all win,” Alfonso whispered.

  Jackson looked down uncertainly. “Are three jars of peanut butter enough?” he asked.

  Zuzu nodded firmly. “I only give out one jar a month.”

  Jackson held out his jar, then Ralph and Zuzu handed over the other two jars. “Thank you for playing! We’ll do it again soon!” Ralph chirped, and all 3,485 squirrels followed him as he left.

  Zuzu shut the door and leaned back against it. “All right, what just happened?” Jackson asked. And then he saw that Alfonso and Zuzu were clutching their bellies and laughing until the tears streamed down their cheeks.

  “We tricked them again!” cried Alfonso. “Squirrels are not the brightest creatures, are they?”

  Zuzu giggled. She grabbed Alfonso’s hand and pulled him into the kitchen. “Tell me what happened to you! Where did you go? Where have you been? I thought you were dead!”

  Alfonso sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and pulled Zuzu down onto his lap. “I’m not letting go of you anymore!” he laughed.

  And they had a long discussion. A discussion which would take far too many pages to include and would be too daunting to read. (Daunting means discouraging, like when you’re faced with a bloodthirsty dragon and all you have to defend yourself with is a spoon.) Alfonso told Zuzu how he enjoyed his job so much that he would forget to come home. Soon he forgot who he was and where he was from, until Jackson helped him find his way home. Zuzu told Alfonso how she had tried looking for him a few times, but she was too afraid of the squirrels to venture far from the house. And so she had stayed at home to cook and clean and wait. And, of course, she gave the squirrels a jar of peanut butter every month so they would leave her alone while she went out to get groceries and garden.

  “So now what, Alfonso?” Jackson asked.

  “Well, I definitely need a new job. Maybe something that doesn’t involve rag-tying?” Alfonso laughed.

  “Are you any good at repairing other things?” Jackson asked.

  “Oh, he’s the best!” Zuzu cried, squeezing her husband’s hand.

  “You know … I met a chicken, er … Miss Flaversham. She might need help maintaining and repairing forts. But she’s not underground. She lives up in the branches. Would you mind moving?”

  Zuzu’s eyes danced with delight. “Really, truly? We can move out of this hole and live in the sky!”

  “I’m never letting you go, ever again!” Alfonso said to her. Zuzu kissed his nose.

  “By the way,” said Jackson, “do you guys know how to get out of here?”

  “Get out of where? The tree?” Alfonso shrugged. “I haven’t been anywhere.”

  Zuzu shook her head. “No idea.”

  Jackson nodded. He’d find his own way out. Somehow.

  chapter 69

  In Which There Is No Room in the Elevator

  Jackson wasn’t sure how Alfonso and Zuzu managed to get everything packed so quickly. But they were definitely determined to move out, and Jackson was able to lead them back to the elevator without too much trouble. Well, maybe a little. He got lost twice and once had to disentangle them from a rather large spider web, but all in all they made it without too much trouble.

  Jackson pushed the call button on the elevator door.

  “Ooh, I’m so excited!” Zuzu cried. She patted her red hair (it was perfect, Alfonso told her), and tears sprang to her brown eyes.

  With a whir and a churn …

  DING!

  The elevator door opened.

  Jackson grinned. “Hi, Sir Shaw! This is Alfonso and Zuzu. Alfonso wants to go work with Miss Flaversham. Do you think that’s okay?”

  Sir Shaw looked Alfonso up and down. Then he smiled a little smile. “A change of job when the time is right is always welcome. I’m sure there will be no problem.” Zuzu clapped her hands and Alfonso beamed, his bright green eyes shimmering like stars.

  They all squeezed into the elevator. Uncomfortably. With a whir and a churn, the elevator door closed.

  “Urr … can you get your elbow out of my back?” Jackson asked.

  Alfonso grunted. “Not enough room in here!”

  “Sir Shaw? Why don’t you stop the elevator and I’ll get out?” Jackson asked. “You can come back for me later.”

  “A splendid idea, sir,” Sir Shaw murmured.

  As the elevator door opened, Jackson fell out. Literally. He hit the ground and landed on his stomach. Oof.

  “Good-bye, Jackson! We’ll never forget your kindness!” Zuzu called out.

  “Yeah, thanks a lot, we really …”

  And with a whir and a churn, the elevator door closed.

  chapter 70

  In Which Jackson Gets Sick of Waiting

  Jackson looked up. It certainly wasn’t very bright in the room. Was it a room? He stood up to see more clearly. And then he stepped back, his heart lodged firmly in his throat. Because just six inches beyond his feet, the floor came to an abrupt end.

  Jackson was standing on the edge of a precipice. (A precipice is that exact spot where you lose your breath when looking over the edge of a cliff.) If he squinted and peered across the canyon before him, he could see something that might be a dead branch, but the far side was about thirty feet away.

  Jackson shrugged. Sir Shaw would be back soon.

  He sat down and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  Jackson sighed and looked for the elevator button to push, but there wasn’t one. His fingers searched the engraved door, looking for a secret button or lever. He searched the sides, thinking maybe this was a fancy floor, and it would have some sort of unusual button. But in a room with a huge gully in the floor? Jackson looked around, pushing aside the dusty cobwebs that covered the sides of the elevator door. There were no leaves here. He thought he must still be underground.

  Jackson felt his muscles tighten as he fought the panic rising in his chest.

  He banged on the door with his fists.

  “Sir Shaw! Sir Shaw!” he yelled, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

  He tried squeezing his fingers between the edge of the door and the wall to pry it open, but it was stuck tightly. Jackson reached into his bag and grabbed his flashlight. He banged it on the door, but it didn’t make much noise at all.

  “Sir Shaw! Stimple? Burt? Anyone! I’m stuck!” Jackson yelled. And he yelled again. And again. But there was only silence.

  Jackson walked to the edge of the canyon.

  “Oh dear,” Jackson whispered. How was he supposed to cross that?

  chapter 71

  In Which, It Must Be Admitted, Jackson Cries

  Jackson slowly crawled toward the canyon. He inched toward the edge. The canyon looked like it had been made by something very heavy crashing through the floor. The edges were rough and stubbly, with little sharp bits sticking straight out. Jackson took a deep breath and looked down. Darkness. Jackson shone his flashlight beam into the canyon.

  Darkness.

  A black, dark, void emptiness.

  Jackson slunk back to the door. He thought it must be getting late. He checked his watch, squinting to get a better look in the dim light. But the hands weren’t moving. He shook the watch and held it to his ear. Either time meant nothing here or the battery had died.

  Jackson brought his knees to his chest and breathed. He took out his water bottle and had a sip. He was very thirsty. But he didn’t want to finish it. What if … Jackson didn’t want to think it, but he thought it anyway … what if he was stuck here? Surely Sir Shaw would remember to return for him, wouldn’t he? Jackson hugged his knees tightly.

  He heard a scurrying in the darkness below and shuddered. He flicked on his flashlight, and aimed it down into the hole. Nothing. Jackson leaned over a bit farther, straining to see, and, almost without rea
lizing it, he kicked out his left leg to adjust his balance. And he heard, all of a sudden, the very worst sound in the world. The glugluglug of water escaping from a bottle.

  Jackson spun around to see a puddle growing behind him. He grabbed the water bottle and tilted it upright, but he could tell by the weight that it was almost empty. Jackson smacked his forehead. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Tears formed in his eyes. Why hadn’t he put the cap back on? There was little now to drink, and he was still stuck, with nowhere to go and no idea when—or if—Sir Shaw was coming back. He checked his watch again, but the hands still weren’t moving. Jackson heaved another sigh then lay down on his back and stared at the ceiling. He would not cry. He would not cry. But tears still fell from his eyes, down his cheeks, and into his ears.

  “Stop crying!” he yelled. He was ten and a half years old, for goodness sakes! Jackson scrunched his eyes tight and steadied his uneven breathing. Crying would do no good right now. He cleared his throat a few times because that is an excellent way to stop crying. You should try it sometime. Although it doesn’t work very well if you are terribly sad. In this case, it did not work.

  Jackson had a good cry. No, that doesn’t sound right. Jackson had a very sad cry.

  So Jackson lay there, swallowing and clearing his throat, his poor mouth parched and raw from thirst and from yelling. Jackson made himself sit up. He surveyed the area again. Maybe there was a way out, and he just hadn’t found it yet.

  He looked up for ladders, swinging vines, or trap doors. He looked across the canyon to the other side. It was still very far away.

  Jackson lay down again. He rolled over onto his stomach, resting his chin on his folded arms, and began to hum.

  There had to be a way out. He just needed to look harder. He went through the options again.