No vines to swing across on? Check.
No ladders to climb? Check.
No buttons to summon the elevator? Check.
Jackson looked at the ground a few feet away from his face.
Something glistened.
Jackson unfolded his arms and stretched out his fingers, hesitant at first, and then touched the glistening. It was wet. He smelled his fingers. It didn’t smell like anything. He carefully licked his fingers. It didn’t taste like anything. Water? He sat up, shined his flashlight, and found a stream of water running toward the canyon edge. It must be the water that had leaked out of his bottle! Jackson bent down and began slurping. He didn’t let himself think about the dirt or dust or spider webs or bits of wood particles that he could be ingesting.
On his hands and knees he crawled, following the stream, slurping it up. He had to stop twice to remove woodchips from his teeth, but it was still satisfying. He came to the very edge of the broken floor. And blinked in disbelief.
chapter 72
In Which Water Behaves Very Oddly (Part I)
The water continued on, past the broken edge, and hung in mid-air. Jackson rubbed his eyes. And blinked. And coughed for good measure. Was this even possible?
His fingers stretched out, and he felt the craggy rocks on the edge of the floor, the sharp splintered ends. But his fingers went right through the puddle at the end of the stream.
Jackson just sat there. Water that just hung in the air?
And then Jackson got an idea.
He pulled the toilet paper out of his bag, ripped off a piece, and crumpled it into a ball. He aimed and threw it into the canyon. And down it fell, disappearing into the blackness.
So why was the water not falling?
Something nagged at Jackson’s mind. Pulled at it, distracting his thinking. He thought about Stimple. He thought about the troll’s hideous nose hair, about his grouchiness and complacency. He thought about …
Wait. What if all of this was about faith?
But faith in what? Faith that he wouldn’t fall? Faith that someone would come looking for him? Faith that he would make it home? What to do, what to do?
“What do I do?” Jackson called out to no one in particular. And no one answered but his own voice, echoing from across the chamber.
“Tell me what to do,” Jackson whispered softly.
A hazy image formed briefly, hovering above the precipice, and then disappeared.
Jackson focused his eyes on that spot. “Tell me what to do!” he yelled. Nothing.
He frowned.
This was obviously something the Author had created. The Author wouldn’t leave him here to figure everything out all by himself, would he? What was the Author trying to show him? Was Jackson being tested? “Is this a test?” he called out.
Jackson waited.
“Tell me what to do,” he whispered, believing with all his heart that something would happen. And the hazy image appeared again, briefly.
Jackson knew what to do.
chapter 73
In Which Jackson Looks Down
Jackson grabbed the roll of toilet paper and unraveled it. He pulled the end through the belt of his shorts and tied a clove hitch.
This is how you tie a clove hitch in case you ever need to tie toilet paper to yourself. Or tie up your dog because he’s not allowed into the ice cream store with you.
Then Jackson took what was left of the roll and shoved it in between a few broken roots. He shouldered his bag, tightened the strap, put the flashlight back inside, and walked resolutely to the edge of the canyon. The Author had always kept him safe. Many, many times before.
Jackson was planning not to look down, but of course he did and of course it was a mistake. The dark abyss looked even darker and deeper than before. Jackson swallowed. And then he began to tremble and shake.
Face your fears, he thought to himself.
And he took a step.
chapter 74
In Which Nothing Bad Happens
I want to tell you right now that nothing bad happens. I wouldn’t want you to worry or anything, so I just thought I’d interrupt and tell you that everything will be fine.
Nothing bad happens.
Oh, except that Jackson fell.
chapter 75
In Which Something Awful Is Lurking
Jackson didn’t even yell. He was too surprised. He fell and fell and fell and then, with a sharp jerk, he stopped. He hung sideways as the toilet paper held his shorts and him within them. He squiggled and wriggled and looked around. Darkness.
Jackson was glad the strap had been across his chest, or the bag would have fallen off. He reached into his bag and pulled out his flashlight. He flicked it on and pointed straight down. He could see the bottom now, but it was still just a little too far to drop. Jackson shone his light on the side of the canyon in front of him. Nothing to grab. He shone the light down the wall beside him. Something was there! Something was moving!
Oh my goodness … was that … a rat?
chapter 76
Which Is Too Terrifying to Even Have a Title
This part coming up is a little bit scary. Just a bit. If it’s nighttime, you should stop reading right here and go to sleep so you won’t have bad dreams. (Your dreams should be about ponies and candy and bubble-gum and winning the Super Bowl.) If it’s daytime and you aren’t prone to day-mares, then by all means, keep reading.
“Hello?” Jackson called out.
The huge rat turned slowly, its long pink tail swishing the dirt across the ground. His dirty pink nose and long whiskers quivered, and a chill went through Jackson’s bones as he realized that the rat was smiling, leering at him with scraggly front teeth. (Leering is a creepy smile that someone gives when they are really mean and nasty inside.)
“Why, hello,” the rat smiled. His voice sounded like nails scraping down a chalkboard. “Stuck, are we?”
“Um, no. Not quite. Just had a little tumble,” Jackson said. He shivered.
“Didn’t break anything or hurt ourselves, did we?” The rat stepped closer. Jackson noticed that the rat was standing on a ledge that jutted out from the side of the canyon. Beside him was a tunnel.
Jackson swallowed. “No, no, I’m fine!” he called out cheerfully.
The rat tilted his head slyly. “We don’t look fine. In fact” — the rat stepped closer, his nose sniffing at Jackson — “we look quite … trapped.”
“Oh! Ho! No, no! I’m just practicing my rock-climbing abilities. And my knot-tying skills. I know quite a bit about knots, you see.” Jackson wriggled so he could face the rat.
“Perhaps … perhaps we need assistance?” The rat smiled. “Be more than happy to help us out.”
“No, thanks! I’m good! Just gonna have a little rest and then climb right back up!”
“Perhaps … we’re thirsty? Need some tea? Tea is very delicious for us. Why not climb down and have some?”
“Thank you, but no. My friend is waiting for me up top. He’d be very concerned if I didn’t get back soon.” Jackson thought fast. “Which reminds me, I should probably let him know I’m okay.”
The rat watched Jackson steadily.
“I’ll start climbing in just a minute! All good here!” Jackson yelled to the top of the cliff. But he knew no one was listening.
The rat took another step forward. He was only ten feet away now. Jackson could smell festering garbage coming from the rat’s direction. It smelled like rotten bananas and burnt hair and decaying meat. Jackson tried to hide his distaste, but the rat saw him wrinkle his nose.
“Don’t like the way we smell? Well, when you live in garbage, you feast on garbage, and you become garbage.” He swished his pink tail again.
“No, no! I just have to sneeze,” Jackson explained. The rat sat down. “We’ll just watch the climb, won’t we?”
“Uh, no, no. You go ahead. I’m sure you have lots to do.”
The rat smiled again. “Not in a hurry at all. Be
sides,” he licked his teeth, “we might need assistance. Wouldn’t want to fall and hurt ourselves. Might get …” he snickered evilly, “might get … really hurt. Poor babies.”
Oh dear. Jackson looked up to the top of the cliff. It looked so far away. He looked down. Did he really want to go down? He shone his flashlight downward again. Bits of glistening white flashed at him. What were they?
“What’s that white stuff down there?” Jackson asked the rat.
The rat shrugged. “Bits of this and that.” And he licked his nose.
And Jackson shuddered.
They were bones.
The rat chuckled. “We aren’t as tidy as we like.”
Jackson needed to get out of there. Like, now. He put the flashlight in his bag, gripped the toilet-paper rope, and began climbing. He made it four feet and then fell.
“Whoopsies!” the rat called out.
How was Jackson going to get out of here?
And then he had an idea.
Jackson hadn’t been lying when he said he knew a lot about knots. He was in Boy Scouts. And his dad was a high-angle rescue firefighter after all. (Oh, you didn’t know? Well, it wasn’t really relevant until now. Maybe the firefighter part would have been cool to know, but this story is about Jackson, not his dad.)
Jackson wound the toilet paper around his hand. Then he wrapped it around his foot and stood up. He wrapped another loop around his other foot and stood up a foot higher. He did it again with the first foot.
“Oh! Look at us! Clever, aren’t we? But …” the rat turned and sat back. He rubbed his nose with his filthy paw, his nails long and creepy. “We’re getting veeeeery tired. Aren’t we?”
Jackson paused. He could feel the ache in his arms. He shook his head. No, he was not tired.
“Our arms are so tired! Oh, it would be so niiiiiice to ressssst, wouldn’t it?” the rat hissed.
Jackson’s eyes fluttered a moment. He shook his head again. He tied another loop around his other foot.
“It would be soooo much easier to just give in, wouldn’t it? Sooooo tired!” The rat’s tail twitched.
Jackson was tired. Very tired.
“Yes. That’s it. So sleepy.”
Jackson just wanted to go home.
The rat read his mind. “Yesss. We could take you home. No need to climb all the way up.”
Jackson looked up. It was very, very far away. He could just drop and let the rat take him home.
“Of course, we know the way. We always know the way,” the rat whispered.
Jackson nodded. That would be much easier. Then he wouldn’t have to climb all the way up. Jackson let himself fall back with a jerk.
“Perfect. We’ll just reach out and …” A claw wrapped itself tightly around Jackson’s arm. He was so sleepy.
“Ouch. Too tight,” he murmured.
“So sorry.” Jackson felt himself being pulled.
chapter 77
Which Has the Distinct Smell of Stimple
Jackson’s nose twitched. He shook his head. He smelled … Stimple? He sniffed again. It was the distinct smell of Stimple’s garbage bag. Stimple was going to get him home.
Home!
Jackson jerked back. The rat lost his grip, and Jackson swung away.
And that was just enough time for Jackson to snap out of it.
On the swing back, Jackson’s head cleared. The huge, slimy rat was standing up on its hind legs, its front claws reaching out for him. The rat’s pink nose twitched and his mouth opened wide, showing off his long, yellow teeth. Jackson had only an instant to react.
Jackson pumped his weight, as if he were on a swing, and turned himself so he’d be feet first. He only had one shot.
Jackson kept his eyes open to make sure he hit the target.
With a sickening thud, Jackson’s feet hit the rat right in the face, narrowly missing his wide-open jaws. The rat squeaked and fell over. Jackson began spinning backward.
“Don’t play nice, do we?” The rat rubbed his nose angrily.
Jackson slowed himself from spinning and immediately began making loops around his feet to climb. One foot. The next foot. Another step.
“Nasty thing! We are not finding much patience anymore!” The rat got up and began pacing.
Jackson had climbed five feet.
“Looking especially delicious, we are!” the rat cried out. His grabby claws reached out to snatch Jackson but missed.
Jackson climbed another five feet. He felt like he could climb anything.
“Getting so sleepy!” the rat called out in his hypnotic voice.
Jackson ignored it. He was getting out of there.
“Come back! So lonely, we are!” The rat’s voice was even further away.
Jackson grabbed the sharp edge of the precipice and hauled himself over, the broken edge scratching and squishing and poking his stomach.
Jackson collapsed onto his back, breathing heavily. His stomach hurt, his arms hurt, and his chest hurt. He pulled up his shirt. Two thick, red lines crisscrossed his body, oozing blood. He curled up in a ball, trying to calm down. He closed his eyes, and made himself breathe slowly and evenly.
Jackson listened for the rat. He didn’t hear anything.
He turned, pulled out his flashlight, and shone it down the canyon, down to the ledge where the rat was lurking. Two red eyes glowed up at him.
chapter 78
In Which Our Hero Takes a Deep Breath
The puddle of water was still glistening, still hanging in the air.
Jackson looked across the canyon. Could he maybe throw the roll of toilet paper across and have it catch on something and spin around, making a perfect knot, and then he could tie the other end to a branch and shimmy across? Hmm.
Jackson grabbed the roll of toilet paper and held on to the end with one hand. With the other hand, he aimed and threw the roll as hard as he could. It flew across the canyon, across a root, and fell to the ground. He pulled on the toilet paper to bring it back, but the roll caught on a rock and began to unravel. Oof.
Jackson stood up. He looked at the canyon. He looked at the other side. He looked back at the elevator. His mind was reeling, but a thought kept popping up in his head. Maybe, just maybe.
Jackson stepped to the edge of the cliff. He could hear a quiet snickering from far below. He stared straight ahead and took a deep breath. He put his flashlight away and adjusted his satchel, pulling the strap tighter. He cleared his throat. Nothing would stop him from falling. No harness. No safety net. No doubt.
He took a step.
chapter 79
In Which Our Hero Does Not Vomit. Not Quite.
Jackson felt the wind rushing past his face, blowing dirt and debris into his eyes. It was hard to breathe because he was falling so fast. He spread his arms out to slow down.
THUMP.
Jackson opened his eyes carefully. He wiggled his arms and legs. Stiff, but okay. He got to his feet and looked around. He was exactly where he was before, right at the top of the cliff.
What?
Behind Jackson was the elevator door with no buttons. In front of him was the other side of the canyon, still thirty feet away. Then he looked down.
And almost threw up.
chapter 80
In Which Water Behaves Very Oddly (Part II)
He saw nothing but darkness and a pair of red eyes. What was he standing on? He looked down carefully at his feet. He was on top of the glistening puddle.
Jackson reached into his bag and pulled out the nearly empty water bottle. He took a good look at it. It was a clear bottle with a blue label and white writing. It said:
LIVING WATER
Use only in emergency.
Jackson just stared at it. He supposed this situation constituted an emergency. He lifted one foot and gingerly brought it down beyond the puddle’s edge. His foot went below the puddle, nearly making him fall.
Now what?
Jackson shuffled his feet. The puddle moved with them. He
shuffled his feet more, dragging them toward the other side of the canyon. The puddle followed him, right underneath his feet. It was holding him up! With a final ungraceful shuffle, he jumped onto the far edge. Jackson bent down and touched the puddle with his finger again. The consistency had changed. It was slightly sticky now. Viscous. (Viscous means gooey, like a piece of stringy cheese from french onion soup.) Jackson uncapped his water bottle and stuck his sticky finger into the hole. The entire puddle slid in, and with a small splash, let go of his finger.
Jackson twisted the cap on and shook the bottle. The water inside splashed about just like regular water in a regular water bottle.
Huh.
Jackson put the water bottle in his satchel and began walking.
He came to an elevator, pushed the button, and with a whir and a churn …
DING!
The door opened.
chapter 81
In Which Jackson is Understandably Annoyed
Good day, sir,” Sir Shaw smiled. “Where were you!” Jackson yelled out. “You dropped me off, and you never picked me up!”
Sir Shaw looked at Jackson quietly. “I am picking you up now, sir.”
Jackson shook his head. “No. No. You should have picked me up where you dropped me off. On the other side! You left me there by myself and I had to get across this huge canyon, and I fell and there was a rat waiting to eat me! I had to climb up and get across by myself!”
Sir Shaw adjusted his cuffs. “Did you get across all by yourself?”
Jackson’s cheeks turned red. “Well, yeah. I mean no. Not exactly.”
Sir Shaw watched Jackson carefully. “Did you have an adventure?”
“I suppose.”
Jackson Jones, Book 2 Page 9