Umberland

by Wendy Spinale

  “Rise up, Umberland. Follow me into battle!” Katt yells.

  Again the crowd cheers her on, waving their weapons in the air. Their shouts take my breath away. We are outnumbered threefold.

  “Tear it down, stone by stone, and don’t stop until you find those papers,” she says with a wave of her hand.

  The refugees swarm the castle. A first shot rings out, whizzing past my head.

  “Take cover!” I say to Gwen.

  Sprinting out of the duchess’s sleeping quarters, I throw myself down the staircase, skipping multiple steps at a time. The Lost Boys have barricaded the doors and windows. Their bodies shake each time the battering ram hits. Fear etches lines in their young faces. Through a broken and boarded window, kids scream, trying to pry the wood slats from the opening. This close, the magnitude of their illness settles over me. Those that have joined Katt’s army, they are the worst of the sick.

  Their eyes glow gold, their pupils hardly visible. Instead of fingernails, sharp claws grow from their hands. Every inch of their bodies is covered in thick green scales. Most are them are bald, or have only a few tufts of hair left on their heads. They hiss at me, and that’s when I see their forked tongues.

  Their transformation must nearly be complete.

  But their alarming appearance isn’t my biggest concern. With the swiftness and agility of snakes, they seem to slither from one window to the next. Others crawl like lizards, some of them attacking on both hands and feet. They rip at the boards with the force of angry crocodiles barreling down on their prey. My remaining Lost Boys attack from the surrounding towers, shooting arrows, stones, and bullets at the rampaging swarm. Their ammunition bounces off the tough scales covering the reptilian creatures without leaving a scratch.

  A handful of the kids or reptiles or whatever they’ve become turn their attention to the boys in the towers. They claw at the doors, trying to gain access to the stairs that lead up to the keeps.

  “Lost Boys, fall back!” I shout, just as one of the creatures snaps a board in half and leaps through the window.

  Not expecting the attack, I am knocked to the ground. A growl rumbles in the lizard boy’s throat. He opens his mouth wide, exposing razor-sharp teeth. With a snap, he bites down on my shoulder. His fangs tear at my flesh. I scream in agony as I plunge my dagger into his soft underbelly. Appearing unfazed, he snaps at me again, and misses. He hisses violently in my face, and I gag at his breath, which smells of decayed bodies. His pulse throbs beneath the dry, sickly skin at his throat. With a knife in each hand, I aim for his artery. The tips of both blades puncture through his thick outer layer. The reptile screams and attempts to clamp his teeth on me one last time. Before he can make contact, I twist both blades in the creature’s neck and scream with remorse. This creature was just a kid. A child I swore to protect. But from two gaping holes, hot, sticky blood spills, covering my weapons and hands. Gasping, I shove him off and stand.

  The Lost Boys battle bravely against the army of lizard people, but it’s clear that we stand no chance against the creatures. Just as I’m about to repeat the call for the Lost Boys to retreat, Katt appears under the archway where the castle doors are broken, a cloud of smoke billowing behind her. Next to her are the remains of what once was a person, only now, crawling on all fours, it resembles a crocodile. She pets the leashed beast as if it were a dog.

  Cries of pain erupt from the kids surrounding me and are washed out by the hissing of the beasts.

  “Katt, you have to stop this!” I shout.

  She cackles, throwing her head back and holding her stomach as if what I’ve said is nothing but a joke. Finally, she tilts her head to the side, her lips pouting, as she resumes petting the crocodile beast. “What’s wrong, Pete? You don’t like my timsah?”

  “Timsah?” I ask.

  Katt sneers and points a claw at me. “Because of you, they’re no longer human. You gave them the antidote. You turned them into these things! Into slithering, reptilian creatures.”

  Gwen breathes heavily as she sneaks up behind me. “We can’t win this, Pete. Over a dozen Lost Boys are dead. We have no other choice but to evacuate,” she says, panic lacing her voice.

  My chest feels hollow. Over a dozen Lost Boys? I look around and sure enough, bodies of both the younger and the older kids lie still in pools of blood. My heart sinks when I see Scout in a bloody heap. The bite marks on his neck leave no question in my mind that he’s no longer with us. This was a mistake, a huge mistake. We should’ve run. We should’ve left Alnwick. Found safety somewhere else. Now it’s too late. And it’s all my fault. Again. Guilt wells up in me. I have to save whoever’s left.

  “Gather everyone from the castle. Get them to the ship immediately. And get your mother’s papers,” I say.

  Gwen breathes faster, her eyes darting from me to Katt. “And you?” she asks.

  “I’ll be there soon. Just get everyone to safety, now!”

  She gives me a small nod and a fast hug, but quickly pulls away. “Hurry,” she says softly.

  I try to respond, but she’s already gone, calling for the Lost Boys to follow her. Those who have survived the assault battle their way through the back of the foyer, seeking the closest exit to where the Jolly Roger waits. Gwen waves the kids ahead of her, and when the last Lost Boy runs in, she glances at me once more with a worried expression. As the timsah close in on her, she darts through a door on the far side of the room.

  Katt juts her chin. “Aw, poor Lost Boy, your girlfriend left you. That’s quite all right. I’ll take good care of you.” Katt unhooks the leash on her crocodile friend. He growls approvingly. Katt pets him between the eyes. “Patience, my pet. You’ll get your snack. A tasty morsel, even if he is a pathetic excuse for a leader.” She looks at me with a wild glimmer in her eyes.

  I swallow hard, glancing down at the ferocious animal that is barely under Katt’s control.

  The timsah gnashes its teeth and claws, growling at me. I grip my daggers tightly in my fists. Time is what Gwen and the rest of them need to get to safety. It’s the least I can give them, since I’ve failed them in so many other ways.

  “While the dinner invitation for your beast is tempting, I think I’ll have to pass. I’m afraid my daggers are a bit sharp for its digestive system,” I say, narrowing my eyes at Katt. I flip my dagger in my left hand, looking for the first opportunity to plunge it into her skull. “The castle is all yours. Let us leave in peace.”

  Katt paces, her boots clicking on the stone walkway. “Oh, not quite yet, Lost Boy. I still haven’t received what I’m here for. I want the Professor’s papers,” she screams. “Her research is going to prevent me”—she holds up her scaly hand—“from turning into that!” She points at the timsah. The reptile hisses in disapproval.

  “My plan is this: I take you and as many others as I can as my prisoners. One by one, I’ll feed you to my timsah until one of you spills the location of her journals. I will find them, trust me, Lost Boy. One way or another. I’ll use her research to create the cure, and then I will reign as the Queen of Umberland with my loyal subjects by my side.”

  When she glances down at the timsah, I take my opportunity. With a flick of my wrist, I throw my dagger. Katt doesn’t flinch. Unsurprised by the weapon hurtling toward her forehead, she flips a hand up. The dagger hits the scales on the back of her hand and flops to the ground. Casually, she lifts her head, smirking. “Stupid, Lost Boy. You still don’t get it. Your time is up.”

  The whir of an engine purrs outside of the castle. The Jolly Roger buzzes just beyond the castle doors. Her gold skull-and-crossbones figurehead glimmers in the sunlight. Above, a cigar-shaped air balloon keeps the hull of the ship afloat.

  “Pete! Pete, come on!” Gwen says, throwing down a rope ladder.

  “No!” I shout, feeling as if the air in my lungs has been sucked out. “Gwen, get out of here!”

  “Tsk, tsk. Our dinner party isn’t over yet. Alas,” Katt says, pulling one of the handcrafted gu
n from the holster. She aims it straight at me. “Good-bye, Lost Boy!”

  I squeeze my eyes shut as she cocks the hammer. Before I hear the release of the trigger, Katt shrieks in agony. When I open my eyes, blood pours from her nose, spilling onto her white gown. Katt holds her face and screams.

  “Run, Pete!” Gabs hollers from behind me. “I’m fed up with this crazy princess. No one threatens to kill the leader of the Lost Boys and lives to tell about it.”

  I look back and see him holding a slingshot in his quivering hands.

  “Gabs, get out of here! That is an order!” I say, gripping him by the arm, tightly.

  “I’m not leaving you,” Gabs says fiercely, ripping himself from my clutch.

  “This is your last warning. Get on that ship now or—”

  I’m cut off by a loud bang, and I never get to finish my sentence. Gabs’s dark eyes grow wide, and his mouth drops open. He falls to his knees, and I catch him before he hits the floor. As I do, blood blossoms on his shirt. I can’t breathe as I look up to see Katt’s gun still pointed at the young boy.

  “No!” The grief-stricken holler sounds distant and not of my own doing.

  Gabs gasps. “It’s okay. It hardly even hurts,” he says, wincing. I know he’s trying to be brave.

  Hyperventilating, I rip my shirt off and try to stanch the blood gushing from his wound. “Stay with me, Gabs. You’re going to be just fine. We’re going to get you out of here, and Doc is going to fix you up just like new,” I say, my voice wavering.

  “It’s all right, Pete. Don’t be sad,” he says. “I’m going to see my mum.”

  Hot tears burn my cheeks. “No, Gabs! Don’t you dare leave me. You’re going to be all right. You’ll be just fine.” I peer up and see the Jolly Roger hovering just outside the castle doors. “Doc! Doc, get down here now!” I shout.

  “Tell Gwen thank you for being my mum, even if was just for a short while,” he says. His final words are barely a whisper as he goes limp in my arms.

  “Gabs! No!” I say, shaking him. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink.

  “Sweet dreams, Lost Boy,” Katt says, with a sly smile.

  “Bloody witch!” I scream, snatching up my dagger from the floor, where I must have dropped it when I caught Gabs.

  Four timsah surround her, daring me to challenge her. She rips at the hem at the bottom of her dress. Using the torn fabric, she wipes the blood from her face.

  Katt takes in the chaotic scene within the castle as her troops tear it apart. Seeming satisfied, she turns and exits, her timsah following close behind.

  “Like I said, their blood is on your hands,” she says, not turning back.

  Fury floods through me, and I chase her from the castle into the inner bailey. Eyeing the back of her head, I lift my dagger. I pull my arm up, ready to throw the knife just below the base of her skull, when someone grabs my arm and yanks me back.

  “Pete, hurry!” shouts Pickpocket. “We have to get out of here!”

  “She killed Gabs!” I shout. “She killed him! We have to stop her.” I struggle against Pickpocket, but he holds tight.

  “She’s gone, Pete. And we have to go,” Pickpocket says. When I look back, Katt has disappeared. The timsah rush into the castle, sprinting faster than is humanly possible. Then again, they are no longer human. Pickpocket and I dash to the rope ladder. He scurries up, and I follow behind. One of the beasts bites the bottom rung and shakes it violently. I stomp on its snout, avoiding its deadly teeth, but trying to force it to let go. A well-placed boot heel to the soft spot between its eyes and it drops. My heart clenches. That was a person. A person.

  I hold on with all my might as the ship lifts into the air, leaving behind the timsah … and Gabs. With the back of my arm I wipe away the last of my tears and turn my eyes to the sky, wondering which star will shine for Gabs tonight.

  My brother rips through the hanging vines, grumbling the whole way. We’ve been trudging through the muck for hours without a hint of whether we are even headed in the right direction.

  “We’re lost,” he says. “We’re going to be stuck in this blasted labyrinth for the rest of our blasted lives.”

  Although I’m tired, I can’t help the smile that I feel twitching at the corners of my mouth. He’s so easily aggravated, which made our childhood incredibly amusing. It took very little instigation to set him off in a flurry of rage.

  The swamp seems never-ending. The scenery is all the same, except that the trees have become more densely packed. Their thin gray, brown, and white trunks stand like soldiers, leaving narrow paths curtained with vines.

  Hook continues to grumble, then suddenly stops. Just ahead is a sheer, rocky cliff. A circular metal door is built into the rock. BEWARE OF THE BANDERSNATCH is scratched crudely into the metal, as if another traveler has left a warning for us.

  “What’s a Bandersnatch?” I ask.

  “I don’t care, and I have no intention of finding out,” Hook says. He reaches for the curved handle and pulls, but it doesn’t budge. An unusual keyhole sits beneath the handle. Pulling out the necklace with the key from the Zwerg, I look from the key to the keyhole, but it doesn’t appear to be the right shape. I tuck it back beneath my shirt.

  Muttering under his breath, Hook flicks his metal index finger and the tip opens up, revealing a pick. Grumbling, he works on the lock.

  “There must be a key nearby,” I say, searching the crevices in the cliff. It seems we’ve finally found the entrance we sought, and we won’t be stopped by a blasted missing key.

  Something rumbles, low and menacing. Hook and I turn toward the trees, but nothing appears unusual. It occurs to me the Bandersnatch might be on this side of the door we’re trying to open, not the other side.

  “We’d better figure out where that key is, or else I have a feeling we’ll be meeting that Bandersnatch soon,” I say.

  Hook continues to fiddle with the lock while I search the wall, wondering if perhaps I should be diving into the mud instead. We are busily trying to find our way through the door when the sound of gears breaks the quiet. Hook and I both look over our shoulders, only to find the head of a mechanical creature between us. Curved spikes serve as teeth. It snaps at me and roars when I duck.

  Hook whirls around and aims his Gatling gun at the creature, but it’s too late. Sensing danger, it zips away, across a small section of the swamp and up to a branch in a nearby tree.

  Its coloring is that of the tree, which camouflages it within the branches. It’s no wonder we didn’t see it. The Bandersnatch flaps its metal wings, sending us stumbling into the door with a gust of wind. I try to regain my balance, taking my attention off the beast.

  “Look out!” Hook shouts.

  The Bandersnatch rears its head back before springing it forward, diving toward us. It’s extraordinarily fast, its bladelike teeth slashing at the air before Hook just as he pulls the trigger on his Gatling gun. Bullets ricochet off the armored animal. I shield my face as a bullet whizzes by my head. It is then I see a strange key that hangs from the metal neck of the Bandersnatch. I reach for my weapons belt and spin it to the left, searching for the only weapon I know that will stop the beast, at least temporarily.

  Hook is out of bullets. He duels with the Bandersnatch, attempting to use the weight of the Gatling gun to cripple the monster, but his weapon only bounces off the armor. Teeth gnash at him, nicking his arm. He drops his gun and reflexively pulls his arm in, crumpling to the ground. The Bandersnatch growls over my stepbrother as he holds his metal arm up, ready to fight to the death.

  Finally, I find the button I’ve been searching for. Pressing it, the lightweight, chain-link net springs from the belt, blanketing the Bandersnatch. It screams, not expecting the attack. Before it has time to regain the upper hand, I launch myself onto the creature’s back, doing my best to pin its head down on the ground.

  “Get the key!” I scream.

  My brother reaches into the net with his hand, snagging the chain around
the Bandersnatch’s neck. He pulls and the chain breaks, leaving him with the broken necklace and key. Quickly, he unlocks the door, grabs me by the back of my coat, and drags me into the cave. He slams the door just as the Bandersnatch frees itself from the net.

  “You saved me again?” I ask.

  “One, I already told you that when you die, it’ll be by my hand, and two, if we run into any more creatures like that, I want to be sure your handy-dandy magic belt of tricks is around. It has saved my skin more than once,” he says, offering me a hand.

  Cautiously, I take it. As much as I’d like to trust him, something’s off about him. He’s being too nice. Saving my life once—okay, I’ll buy the now-we’re-square logic. But this is now three times. I’m not sure what he has planned, but I don’t like it one bit. At some point, I may need to look out for myself and ditch him. Can I get back out of this maze without him, though?

  Sunlight floods in at the other end of the tunnel.

  “Let’s hope whatever is on the other side isn’t as nasty as that Bandersnatch,” he says, traveling up the tunnel.

  It occurs to me that possibly the most dangerous beast on this journey is not a prisoner of the Labyrinth at all, but instead is my own brother. I follow behind but keep my distance.

  Maddox looks at me, his expression uncertain. Although my stomach flutters with nervousness, I step through the doorway.

  Inside, the home is stunning. Every wall is made of polished copper so flawless that it reflects the single gas lantern hanging from the center of the room, brightening the sitting area. Two chaise longues and a sofa constructed of rosewood and covered in plum velvet sit in the middle of the room. A steamer trunk serves as a coffee table that sits between the two couches. Pictures of zeppelins, trains, and pedal-powered flying machines hang in brass frames on the walls. A large clock ticks over a fireplace, but it is no ordinary clock. It appears the mechanisms that make it run are on display around it. Surrounded by spinning gears, the second hand in the face of the clock inches forward, counting away the time.