Out of the Wild

by Sarah Beth Durst

  “The Wild might take the world, but it won’t take the clouds.” She thought of the vines she’d seen crawling over the giant’s castle and knew she was lying. The Beast and his creatures could never have held out against that onslaught. But Linda didn’t know that. Julie remembered how her dad, his voice filled with certainty, had charmed the policeman outside Graceland. She needed to be that persuasive. She needed a hero’s charm. “He has teams of creatures chopping down beanstalks as soon as they appear,” Julie said. “I watched them. They used ropes to lower themselves down far enough to hack down the stalk. They used fire to burn them to the ground.” With as much confidence as she could manage, she said, “You’ll never be with your Beast. You lost.”

  Julie had never seen someone destroyed by words before. Linda’s knees buckled, and she sank down onto the floor. “While you made your way to the well, the Wild talked to me,” Linda said. “He said if the new stories didn’t work, if the world didn’t change enough to allow the Beast to come down from his clouds, then he had a plan. The Wild would release the prince, and I would set the traps. The Wild promised it was the perfect plan.”

  “The Wild used you,” Julie said.

  “I cannot live without my Beast,” Linda said, her voice shrill. “I tried. I truly tried to start anew, to live in the world like he wanted me to, but I can’t be without him.”

  The heartbreak in her voice . . . it shook Julie. She almost wanted to apologize, to tell her the truth—that the Beast had been moments from losing to the Wild when she left and was certainly back in his fairy tale by now.

  “I am meant to love him,” Linda said. “I was made to love him, and he was made to love me. Why does he fight this? We were going to be together. He was supposed to love me enough to want to be together.” She sounded so lost.

  All Linda wanted was her Beast back. Julie could understand that. Hadn’t she just crossed the entire United States chasing her father? “The Wild used you,” Julie repeated. Linda wasn’t the true enemy. Bobbi wasn’t the enemy. The birds in Times Square, the wolf at Graceland, the dragon in the Grand Canyon . . . None of them were the real enemy.

  The real enemy was the Wild. And it was coming.

  As Linda began to cry, Julie spotted a fire extinguisher next to the makeup counter. She picked it up and aimed the nozzle at the nearest swan-man. “I’m not your enemy either,” she said to him, “but I want my family.” Even if it was only for a few minutes, she wanted them all to be together when the Wild came. When the swan didn’t move, Julie sprayed. The swan-man squawked as white foam hit his face.

  Boots darted out from between the swans and ran to Julie.

  Without hesitating, Julie turned and bashed the door with the bottom of the fire extinguisher. After three hits, the door popped open. A frog hopped forward. “Dad!” Julie cried. She scooped him up and hugged him, pressing her cheek against his cool, rough skin.

  “Ribbet!” he said.

  Inside the closet, she saw empty shelves—and at the very end, under a window, in a pool of light cast by the floodlights outside the castle, she saw Mom. In the light, her wheat-colored hair gleamed.

  Duct tape was plastered over her mouth. Julie ran forward. “Mom, are you okay?” She pried the corner of the duct tape off with her fingernails. “Sorry,” she said as she yanked the duct tape off as quickly as she could.

  Her mom gasped. Her face was blotchy where the tape had been, and strands of glue residue hung from her cheeks. “Julie!”

  “Hold on, I’ll get you loose,” Julie said. She placed her frog father on Mom’s lap and then knelt down behind the chair and began to tug at the knots in the rope.

  Squirming in her chair so she could see Julie, Mom said, “That’s twice now that you’ve come to rescue me. Once is chance, but twice is a pattern. You’ve become a hero, like your father.”

  Julie felt herself blush. A hero. She wasn’t a hero. She wiggled the knots, and the rope slipped a few inches. Beneath the rope, her mom’s skin was red and raw. She guessed that Mom didn’t know about all the fairy-tale events that Julie had failed to stop. Mom wouldn’t have called her a hero if she knew about them . . . unless, of course, she hadn’t meant that as a compliment. As a hero, Dad had caused at least as many problems as he’d solved. The knot fell open, and Mom wriggled her hands out.

  “How bad is it?” Mom asked, gingerly massaging her wrists. “Where are Linda and Bobbi? Where are Boots and your grandmother?” Dad leaned his frog head against Mom’s arm, as if to comfort her.

  Boots leapt up onto her lap. “Well, we have good news and bad news. Good news is that I’m here. Bad news is . . . so’s the Wild.”

  “Nearly here,” Julie corrected. They had a few minutes, maybe. “There’s time for you to kiss Dad and turn him back into a human. We can face the Wild together.”

  Mom shook her head as her fingers continued to pet Dad. “I won’t add to it,” Mom said. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Maybe she didn’t understand how much the Wild had grown, Julie thought. She didn’t know how hopeless it was.

  “It’s nearly to California already,” Julie said. “What difference does one more fairy-tale moment make? Please, Mom, I want us to be together when it comes.” Maybe it wouldn’t matter if they were together as themselves or not, but it felt like it should matter.

  Mom shook her head. “Even so. I’m sorry, Julie, but I can’t. Your father understands.”

  No, she thought, he doesn’t understand. She thought of how he’d chased after Sleeping Beauty. She thought of how he’d killed the wolf. She thought of how he’d left her in the Grand Canyon . . . Dad didn’t care much about consequences. If their roles were reversed, Dad would have kissed Mom without a second’s hesitation.

  And maybe that wasn’t entirely wrong. Maybe Linda had gone too far for her love, but maybe Mom wasn’t going far enough. Maybe there was a middle ground.

  Julie lifted her frog-dad from her mom’s lap and held him at eye level. She couldn’t stop the Wild from coming, but she could bring her parents back together. She was going to reunite her family. She wasn’t going to fail in that. “I’m sorry, Dad,” Julie said. There were two versions of the frog prince tale. In one, a kiss from the prince’s true love broke the spell. In the other, a princess threw the frog against a wall and broke the spell. Technically, Julie was the daughter of royalty. “But this is going to hurt a bit.”

  “Julie, no!” Mom cried.

  Tossing underhand as if he were a softball, she threw her father against the closet wall. He hit with a splat. She shielded her eyes as sparkles flared. The shelves shook.

  Suddenly, outside the castle, the floodlights went out.

  “Oh, not good. The spell didn’t do that,” Boots said. “Why are the lights out?”

  A thin pool of moonlight shone through the window at the back of the closet. In that sliver of light, Julie saw a man, her father, upside down on the floor in front of her. “Your mother is right,” Dad said as he untangled himself. “You have become a hero.” He smiled at her, a thousand-watt smile.

  Julie smiled back.

  The window darkened as leaves sprouted over the glass. Green moss spread over the closet ceiling. Vines crept inside the broken window and snaked across the walls and onto the shelves. Sunlight poured into the closet as the Wild turned night to day.

  Pale, her mom stood up. “Run,” she said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Wild

  Julie, Boots, Zel, and Prince bolted out of the closet into the costume room. Run, run, run! Julie ordered herself. It’s here, it’s here, it’s here!

  Dad flung open the door—

  With a thundering crash, trees burst out of the concrete in front of the castle door. “Dad!” Julie shrieked. Vines thickened and knotted around the trunks. Leaves unfurled, and pine needles burst into full array on branches. Julie stumbled back against her mom, and Mom wrapped her arms around Julie’s shoulders. In two strides, Dad crossed to Mom and Julie and enfolded them bo
th in his arms. Boots pressed against Julie’s ankles.

  For the first time ever, Julie’s family was together. And soon, they’d be torn apart as the stories found them. She felt her heart thudding so fast and hard that it felt as if it was going to leap out of her chest. The same thought kept running around and around in her head: It’s here! The Wild is here! The words were a roar inside her, matching the thunder of the newborn trees as they split pavement all around the castle.

  In seconds, everything was still. Sunlight, tinged green by trees, filtered down into the castle. The only sound was Linda’s crying. She hadn’t even looked up.

  Julie heard a soft pop. Sparkles swirled, and Bobbi suddenly appeared inside the cyclone of glitter. She held a shining wand with a star on top. She was wearing a pink tulle ball gown. Sparkles settled in her hair and lingered there like a crown of stars.

  If she was here, what happened to Grandma? Grandma couldn’t have lost their battle. Could she have? Was she all right? Had Bobbi hurt her? “Where’s—” she began.

  Mom clasped her hand over Julie’s mouth. “Shh,” she whispered in her ear. “Don’t draw attention. She was summoned by Linda’s tears. Tears bring the fairy godmother.”

  Giant butterfly wings fluttered on Bobbi’s back, sending off another shower of sparkles. Smiling beatifically, Bobbi fixed her gaze on the sobbing librarian. “Why are you crying, child?” she asked in a sugar-sweet voice. “Do you wish to go to the ball?”

  Linda’s head shot up. She scrambled to her feet. “I’m not Cinderella! I’m Beauty! I want my Beast!”

  “You must remember to return by the stroke of midnight,” Bobbi said. She raised her wand. The sparks crackled, and she sighed happily.

  “No!” Linda cried, and ran out the castle door. She plunged into the forest. Wings fluttering, Bobbi flew after her. Sparkles dripped off her wand like an overzealous fire-cracker. She disappeared between the sun-dappled trees.

  Julie swallowed hard. “That was close,” she said.

  “Relief later; escape now,” Boots said.

  “The Wild’s changing the castle,” Mom said. She pointed to the wall. Paint peeled from the wall to reveal Gothic stone. Above, fluorescent lights morphed into chandeliers, and medieval torches popped out of the walls. “Everyone out!” She herded Julie and Dad toward the door. Boots bolted ahead of them.

  “Wait,” Julie said, pulling away from Mom. “We can’t leave! There could be a door to the wishing well here!” She ran back across the costume room to the closet doors. None of them looked like the purple motel room door. She tried one door—it was unlocked, a janitor’s closet. She tried another—locked.

  “Stand back,” Dad said. He ran at the door and bashed into it with his shoulder. It popped open.

  Inside the closet, tied and gagged, Henry and his father struggled in side-by-side chairs. Rumpelstiltskin and Henry! Julie had forgotten them. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten them. “Help me!” Julie called to her parents. Dad rushed forward, and together they set to work on the ropes.

  “You!” Henry said as Julie removed his gag.

  Julie blushed. Was that a good-to-see-you “you” or a why-do-you-keep-showing-up-when-horrible-things-are-happening “you”?

  “I thought that dragon fried you!” Henry said. The words tumbled out of his mouth so fast that he sounded as if he was in fast-forward. “I saw the flames. It breathed fire! I thought it would drop me over the Grand Canyon. I thought I was dead. I thought you were so dead when you fell into the trees and the bath mat burst into flames and—”

  “What!” Mom said, face pale. Quickly, Julie filled her in as she tugged at the knots binding Henry’s wrists. She didn’t look up at her mom as she tried to gloss over how Dad had left her—“You left her at the bottom of the Grand Canyon!”

  Dad paused and looked up from the knots around Rumpelstiltskin. “I came to save you,” he said to Mom. “I am your hero.”

  Mom clenched and unclenched her fists. Through gritted teeth, she said, “You’re also Julie’s father.” Squirming out of the last of the ropes, Rumpelstiltskin rushed over to Henry. He helped Julie yank the final knot free and began checking his son for injuries. “If you want to be my hero, you will never, ever, ever abandon our daughter again.”

  Dad looked at Julie as if he’d never seen her before, and then he dropped to one knee in front of her. “Forgive me,” he said. “I have failed you.”

  Julie blushed. She did not want her father to bow to her. “He saved me from the wolf,” she said to Mom. “Would you have done that if it meant the Wild would grow?”

  Mom hesitated for the barest second. “Oh, Julie, of course, I—”

  Helping Henry stand, Rumpelstiltskin interrupted, “We need to leave this castle. Too many ways to be trapped in a castle.”

  “Where’s Boots?” Julie asked. She looked around them. He’d been with them when Bobbi appeared. Had he come with them to rescue Rumpelstiltskin and Henry? She remembered seeing him run toward the door—“Oh, no, he’s out there,” she said. “He ran into the woods!” She ran out of the closet. “Boots!” Mom and Dad followed, also calling for Boots.

  As they crossed the costume room, straw bubbled up from the floor like popcorn. It poured out of crevices in the wall and rained from the ceiling. Boxes and crates transformed into bales of straw. “What’s going on?” Henry said, his voice a squeak.

  Rumpelstiltskin marched to the spinning wheel and sat down.

  “Dad, what are you doing?” Henry said.

  Zel caught his arm. “He can’t help himself. It’s the Wild.”

  With robot-like precision, Rumpelstiltskin scooped up a handful of straw and fed it into the spinning wheel. His foot began to tap on the pedal, and the wheel began to whir faster and faster.

  “Why is he spinning?” Henry cried. “What’s happening? You have to make him stop! How do we make him stop?” Straw zipped through Rumpelstiltskin’s hands, and gold flashed on the wheel. “You have to help him!” He seized Julie’s arm. “You started this! Everything was normal and fine and good until I met you!”

  Julie didn’t know how to help him. The only way to stop the fairy tales was to stop the Wild, and the only way to stop the Wild was with a wish in the wishing well, but the well was thousands of miles away in Northboro. Unless the motel room door appeared, she didn’t have any way to cross thousands of . . . Yes, she did! She had Jack’s beans! She dug the bottle out of her pocket and spilled a bean onto her palm. “We can reach the well through the clouds!”

  Mom dove for her hand. “No! You’ll start a tale!” Zel grabbed the bean out of Julie’s hand and chucked it out a broken window. And then she stared at her hand in horror. A second later, Julie realized why: she had thrown a magic bean out a window, just like Jack’s mother did in Jack’s tale. That was a fairy-tale moment.

  “Quick! Out!” Mom cried. “Before the beanstalk grows!”

  “But my father . . .” Henry said.

  “ . . . is lost.” Mom propelled them out the door and into the sunlit forest.

  As they ran through the woods, the Wild continued to transform Disneyland around them. Up ahead, pastel horses neighed as they detached themselves from the carousel and galloped through the trees. A mermaid splashed in a fountain. Julie saw a man with a blue beard, a white doe and a weeping woman, a girl in a red cape, an old peddler woman with an apple in her hand . . . Ahead of them, a gift shop transformed into gingerbread. Candy canes sprouted on either side of the door, and the windows crystallized into sugar. From somewhere, a witch cackled.

  “My father’s back there!” Henry cried.

  Julie glanced behind her to see that the castle had tripled in size. It had sprouted seven more towers, and they all gleamed in the sunlight like mother-of-pearl. From one window, a woman lowered a cascade of wheat gold hair. Julie’s heart skipped a beat. Not Mom, she told herself. It wasn’t Mom. Not yet. Cackling, a witch sailed over the tops of the tower.

  “Your father is Rumpelstilt
skin,” Mom said to Henry, grabbing his arm to pull him onward.

  “I don’t care!” he said, yanking away from her. “I won’t leave him! He’s my father before anything else. Nothing changes that.”

  Julie had said those very words to him back in the RV at the Grand Canyon. “He’s right,” she said. “We have to try.”

  Henry shot her a grateful look.

  “It’s too dangerous,” Mom said. “A castle is the worst—”

  Before she could finish, the witch dove down toward them. Both Mom and Dad jumped in front of Julie. Dad drew his sword, and Henry ducked as the witch skimmed low over his head.

  “No, Dad, don’t hurt Grandma!” Julie grabbed his sword arm.

  Cackling, Gothel wrapped her arms around Mom’s waist and pulled her onto the broomstick. “Into the tower with you, my girl!”

  “Mom!” Julie yelled, diving toward them. She landed facedown on the pine-needle-covered forest floor.

  Dad swung his sword at the witch as she and the captive Rapunzel soared past him. He charged after her, and then he skidded to a halt. He turned back to Julie. Crossing to her, he held out his hand and helped her to her feet. “I will not abandon you again,” he said, but his eyes shifted to the trees.

  Julie saw that his scars were gone. His cheeks were smooth now, as if he had never fallen from the witch’s tower. She thought of how the castle had sprouted additional towers. The Wild was setting the stage for him to reenact his story anew, and she could see in his eyes that he wanted to do it. In his heart, he was Rapunzel’s prince, just like Linda was the Beast’s Beauty. “Go,” Julie told him. “It’s okay. It’s what you want to do. Go be a hero.”

  Saluting her with his sword, Prince plunged into the forest. He was gone almost instantly. At least he remembered me this time, Julie thought. That thought made her feel a little better. But only a little. She watched Mom and Bobbi disappear, a black speck against the brilliant blue sky.