House of Secrets

by Chris Columbus

  Before Brendan could tell them the part about seeing The Book of Doom and Desire, a rumbling threw them all off balance. It was like an earthquake—the whole ground shook—and then the floor of Kristoff House tilted upward. Brendan, Cordelia, and Will tried to keep their footing, but it was as if the house were on a seesaw and something heavy were in the kitchen.

  “What’s happening?” Will yelled. He and Cordelia grabbed the wall to steady themselves as Brendan tumbled down the hall.

  “It’s the colossus from Savage Warriors! And he’s lifting the house from that corner!” Brendan said, pointing as broken tables and vases and books slid past him.

  “Nell!” Cordelia called. “If you’re in the dumbwaiter . . . get out!”

  Eleanor didn’t answer—and suddenly Cordelia grabbed Will as the floor’s angle got too steep and they all began to slide toward the kitchen. Brendan was terrified that the floor was going to go vertical and make them fall, like in that old video game Castlevania, but all of a sudden it became level again. Everyone paused to take a breath—and then the floor began to tilt in the opposite direction!

  “I gotta see what’s going on!” Brendan called. He felt horribly guilty—more guilty than scared—and that guilt pushed him back to the front door.

  “Bren! It’s not safe!” Cordelia warned, but her brother stumbled out—and he wasn’t in the forest anymore.

  Brendan stood where the welcome mat would be if Kristoff House had one. In front of him, instead of downed trees, he saw the hand of the colossus. Its fingers were pressed together to make the leathery, springy wall they had seen before.

  Brendan ran and jump-kicked the hand.

  “Stop!” Cordelia cried, watching from the doorway with Will—but Brendan bounced off, hitting the colossus’s palm.

  “I’m trying to get him to put us down!” he explained. Behind him, as if they had felt the kick, the colossus’s fingers separated.

  Cordelia gasped. Through the fingers was blue, clear sky. Brendan inched forward, peered down—

  And saw the forest canopy. Below him.

  “Hey! Up here!” a voice called. Brendan, Cordelia, and Will turned to see Eleanor leaning out one of the second-story windows. “Do you guys realize there’s this big, ugly, hairy guy carrying us around?”

  “Yes!” they all said at once. Then Cordelia spoke. “Nell, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Brendan asked, “How do you know he’s hairy?”

  “I can see him from up here! He looks like that really skinny British guy on the cover of Dad’s old CDs. . . . That guy who sings about not getting enough satisfaction?”

  “Mick Jagger?” Brendan asked.

  “Yeah! He looks like Mick Jagger if Mick Jagger ate a whole truckful of Snickers.”

  They rushed inside, went upstairs, and lurched down the second-floor hall, sometimes powering forward as the house tilted up, sometimes scrambling for something to hold on to as it tilted down. They were relieved when they made it to Eleanor’s room and found her staring out the window. “Look!”

  From the second story they could see much better. Four of the colossus’s jumbo fingers made up the wall, over which they could barely glimpse the sky. The house sat in the colossus’s immense palm.

  “He’s carrying us through the forest like a giant Domino’s pizza!”

  “Nell,” Cordelia said, “you can’t be enjoying this.”

  “Why not? Maybe he’s taking us home!”

  “How do you know he’s a he?”

  “I guess he could be a lady with a beard,” shrugged Eleanor, “but come see for yourself.”

  She led them across the hall to the master bedroom. There they beheld the colossus in all his glory.

  The view started with the base of his palm, which stuck out underneath the house like a limestone outcropping. Leading down from it, impossibly huge, was his foreshortened, tanned right arm. Brendan started calculating: in order to hold Kristoff House, the colossus had to have a hand that was fifty feet by fifty feet, and your arm was about six times as long as your palm, so . . .

  “His arm’s the size of a thirty-story building!”

  “Yeah, he’s like a mountain man who’s as big as an actual mountain,” said Eleanor.

  The colossus’s flowing black hair draped over his bare shoulders, each of which was the size of a Mack truck. He didn’t look like he was going bald anytime soon. (With a direct view of the top of his head, they would’ve seen a carousel-sized bald spot.) Large white specks like giant snowflakes dotted his hair.

  “Yeccchhhh! He’s got dandruff!” Brendan said, frowning. “With pieces as big as my head!”

  The colossus’s voluminous hair obscured most of his face, but he definitely had black eyebrows, a wide, perfectly triangular nose, and crazy huge lips. He really did resemble a mammoth Mick Jagger.

  “What’s that horrible smell?” asked Cordelia, placing her hand over her nose and mouth.

  “He has body odor,” explained Eleanor.

  “Smells like Mr. Benjamin, my third-grade science teacher,” said Brendan. “The guy was allergic to showers.”

  The colossus took no notice of his passengers, forging ahead with his face just above the treetops, using his left hand to snap the trees aside as he traversed the sea of green. His movements were so Himalayan that he almost looked as if he were operating in slow motion. Cordelia felt dizzy. She wondered how his heart could pump blood to his entire body—maybe it’s as big as Kristoff House and only beats once a minute.

  “I think we should ride it out,” Cordelia said, “and hope he’s bringing us somewhere with food.”

  “Unless he’s bringing us somewhere where we’re the food,” said Brendan.

  “If you look at this with the proper perspective, it could be a tremendous opportunity,” said Will. “We’ve been trying to figure out where we are by reading books. Here’s a chance for direct observation.”

  Will poked his body out the window, leaning so far that Cordelia grabbed him to keep him from falling. He held his palm over his eyes and swiveled his head 180 degrees to gaze as far as he could . . . but saw only the oppressive green trees.

  “Forget it,” Will said as he slid back. “No sign of civilization. Maybe we should just ‘ride it out,’ as Cordelia suggests.”

  Brendan rolled his eyes. His sister beamed.

  “Can I see again?” asked Eleanor. She loved being up so high; it beat sitting around in the forest waiting for wolves. Taking Will’s place at the window, she stared down at the colossus, who she’d come to think of as her friend Fat Jagger—after all, he hadn’t done anything really bad, not yet. But then the house shuddered and became still.

  “What’s happening?” Cordelia asked.

  “I’m not sure. . . .”

  Fat Jagger had stopped. He moved his left hand to his face. There was something wiggling between his giant finger and thumb. Eleanor saw it squirm, heard it buzz, and yelled, “Ew, it’s a dragonfly!” just before the colossus popped it in his mouth and chomped down. The insect squelched, squirting its juices across the treetops.

  “He’s not vegan! He’s a meat eater!” Eleanor jumped back from the window. “Bren was right! He’s bringing us somewhere to eat us! Guys, if he likes bugs, how much better are we gonna taste?”

  “Like juicy pineapple wrapped in bacon!” said Brendan. “We gotta do something.”

  “Too bad we don’t have that grenade,” Cordelia said pointedly to Brendan, but Eleanor was already running down to the kitchen. When she came back, she had a hunk of limp meat wrapped in plastic.

  Brendan asked, “Nell, what is that?”

  “Pork tenderloin. From the freezer.”

  “That freezer hasn’t worked for two days! That’s rotten!”

  “He just ate a dragonfly!”

  Eleanor went to the window and unwrapped the tenderloin. An unpleasant, sweet odor wafted into the room as she yelled, “Hey! Mr. Colossus! Look up!”

  The gi
ant turned to her. For the first time the Walkers and Will saw his face. More than anything he looked like the homeless war vets they’d seen in downtown San Francisco, with sad, bloodshot eyes bordered by deep creases.

  “Try this! From the Walkers!”

  Eleanor dropped the tenderloin. It snaked through the air—and landed in Fat Jagger’s open mouth.

  “Nice job!” Eleanor called. “D’ya want more?”

  The colossus nodded, wobbling his arm (and the house). Eleanor tore out of the room. “I’m getting more!”

  “Nell, wait, this isn’t a good idea—like you know how you’re not supposed to feed bears?” Brendan said, but his sister came back with a box of formerly frozen fish. She leaned out the window and let the yellow patties fall into Fat Jagger’s waiting maw.

  “This is from the Walkers! Walk-ers, remember? We’re your friends!” She kept saying the nicest things to him—and then she froze. “Uh-oh. Guys? You might want to see this.”

  They all crowded around the window. Fat Jagger wasn’t eating anymore. He was making a huge fist in front of his face. His immense knuckles cracked in succession. He stared dead ahead—

  At another colossus striding through the forest. Coming right for them.

  “Do you think he wants our colossus’s food?” Eleanor asked.

  “I think he wants his head,” said Brendan.

  The new colossus didn’t have the kind face that Fat Jagger did. He looked like an all-out bruiser, with a bald, acne-spotted skull, sharp red eyebrows, and a goatee like the devil’s tail. His face was twisted in a furious scowl, and he was snorting, sounding like a wild boar filtered through concert speakers. He used one hand to push the trees aside, while the other bounced a huge boulder in his palm. And he was even bigger than Fat Jagger.

  “He’s like a colossus on steroids,” Brendan said.

  “Maybe it’ll be okay,” Cordelia said. “Maybe they’ll just talk.”

  “Talk? Look at his face! He’s madder than Uncle Pete after two six-packs!”

  Eleanor called out the window to the advancing giant, “Mr. Colossus! We don’t mean you any harm! We’re the Walkers! Walk-ers!”

  The bald colossus didn’t react—but Fat Jagger looked up.

  “Fat Jagger!” Eleanor yelled.

  “A touch rude, don’t you think?” asked Will.

  “What?”

  “The fat bit.”

  “Oh, right,” said Eleanor. “Jagger! Sorry about calling you fat. You’re not really fat; you’re just a little . . . husky. That means ‘muscular’ at Target. But you can hear us, right? So listen, this other colossus guy—”

  “Let me try,” Brendan said, pushing Eleanor out of the way. “Jagger! This bald dude who needs a Clearasil shampoo? He looks like he wants to mess you up, and we’re kind of in the middle of it, so before you start whaling on each other, could you put us down?”

  “Rrrrr?” Fat Jagger said. There was just enough intelligence in his eyes to register frustration and fear.

  “It’s no use,” Brendan said. “I think he’s got a learning disability.”

  “You just don’t know how to talk to him!” Eleanor shouted, shoving her brother. “Jagger! If you put the house down, I promise that next time we see each other, I’ll give you more food . . . cooked food . . . better, tastier food! Please?!”

  Fat Jagger raised an eyebrow.

  “Please?!” Eleanor pleaded. Jagger nodded . . . and began to lower the house! The Walkers and Will felt themselves descending as if in the world’s largest elevator.

  “He’s doing it! He likes me!” Eleanor said, but then her eyes went wide as she saw a huge blur race toward Fat Jagger’s head.

  “Jagger! Duck! The mean giant is throwing the boulder!”

  Fat Jagger turned in time to see a boulder speeding toward him like a major-league fastball. He kicked his massive skull to the side. It almost looked like a dance move, and Eleanor cheered, but although the boulder missed his face, it hit him in the shoulder, producing a thunderous meaty snap.

  With a roar, Fat Jagger grabbed his new injury—and then Eleanor’s view went screwy. All of a sudden instead of peering outside she was looking up at the ceiling as she skidded across the floor. It took her a second to realize that Kristoff House was turning around in midair . . . because Fat Jagger had dropped it.

  The house fell with sickening speed. Eleanor’s stomach rocketed into her neck as she grabbed the bed. Brendan hugged the Hello Kitty sleeping bag. Cordelia put her head between her knees in the airplane crash position. Will protectively wrapped his arms around her.

  And then, suddenly, the house stopped.

  It sat smoothly just above the tree canopy. No crash. Only Fat Jagger’s immense eye in the window.

  “You caught us!” Eleanor yelled. She turned to the others. “He caught us with his other hand! He saved us, even though he was hurt!”

  “Thank you!” Cordelia said, standing up with Will and Brendan. In response Fat Jagger winked. The folds of his eyelids were so huge that they made a wet click. He gave a wide, sweet smile. His rotting, crooked teeth were the color of moldy candy corn.

  “Awww. He’s kinda cute,” Eleanor said.

  The others looked at her with incredulous expressions.

  “In a smelly Muppet kinda way,” explained Eleanor.

  Brendan grinned and approached Fat Jagger to ask him to put them all the way down, but he stopped as a curious shadow (it almost looked like the peaks of giant knuckles) fell across the colossus’s head. Jagger’s smile disappeared. Brendan said “Guys! Look out—”

  But he didn’t have time to explain. The bald colossus was punching Fat Jagger. His immense fist knocked Jagger’s head back with the force of a TNT blast. And like any good punch, it didn’t stop at the point of contact. It followed through . . . right into Kristoff House.

  The bedroom wall buckled but held as the fist hit it. Plaster rained down. The window shattered. Brendan bounced across the room like a rag doll—and suddenly the house was spinning back into the air!

  “Bren!” Cordelia screamed. She tried to go to him, but she might as well have been going to the moon. The room—the floor—all of Kristoff House had become a pop fly. Within its walls, up and down didn’t mean much anymore. Cordelia could only watch her brother’s body crumple into a corner and hope he was still alive . . . but then she wondered, as the house entered the slow embrace of free fall: What’s the point? He won’t be for much longer!

  Whenever Cordelia saw movies and television reenactments where dying people’s lives flashed before their eyes, she wondered, Is it really that easy? Life was long and complicated—even hers, already—and remembering it in sequence seemed like a serious task. Instead she yelled for her sister. “Nell!”

  “C’mon!” Eleanor said, running toward Cordelia as blue sky streaked past the windows. “We’re getting in the closet—hurry!”

  Cordelia saw that Will had dragged Brendan into the master-bedroom closet and grabbed all the pillows, sleeping bags, and comforters. Now the enclosed space was like a cocoon. She lurched in with Eleanor, slamming the door—just as Kristoff House hit the tree canopy.

  It sounded like a crashing wave: a ksssshhh of displaced mass as the house reduced the crown of one of the forest’s mighty trees to a falling collection of splinters. Cordelia bounced against the hastily padded walls of the closet, letting out muffled screams, until bark squealed against siding and the house came to a stop. She found herself clutching a handful of hangers.

  “I say, we’ve landed,” said Will, inching open the door.

  The bedroom looked like it had been shaken inside a snow globe: the RW trunk was upside down; the bedside tables were totally busted; the mattress was peeking out the broken window. If I’d been out there, Cordelia thought, I’d have been impaled.

  “We appear to be resting on a very large limb,” said Will, seeing the cross-hatching of branches outside the windows.

  “I always wanted a tree house,” said Cor
delia morbidly.

  Wood cracked and strained below them. The floor tilted to the side. “I don’t expect you’ll have one much longer,” said Will.

  They all held their breath as the branch they were sitting on groaned and bent, snapping in many tiny places. Every time it seemed to settle and bear the weight of the house, another piece of furniture somewhere slid aside with a thunk, causing the house to pitch over more, causing the wood to rupture more. . . .

  “We have to go!” said Cordelia. “Bren! Are you awake?”

  “Ugggggh . . . ” Brendan was bruised and groggy. He looked like he should have cartoon stars circling his face.

  “Brendan! Wake up! You’re late for school!” Eleanor screamed in his ear, and all of a sudden he was alert.

  “Hey!” He turned to Eleanor. “Not fair. Where are we?”

  “In a tree,” Cordelia said. “We’ve got to climb down ’cause the branches won’t hold—”

  “A tree?” Brendan poked his head into the bedroom. He saw the leaves outside and realized what a ticking-time-bomb situation he was in. It’s gonna fall and smash! And I’ll end up trapped in the rubble like a victim from one of those horrible 8.0-magnitude earthquakes. His mouth started running. “Oh man—I gotta get outta here!”

  “Not so fast, Bren—calm down—”

  But he bolted from the closet. Get to the window. Get outside. Outside you’ll be safe. He tripped, fell, and rolled over the debris-filled floor. He landed with the accumulating broken furniture at the opposite wall. He had a second to look at the others and realize his mistake as his weight added to the pile—

  And the branch under Kristoff House snapped.

  The home and its inhabitants dropped.

  This free fall wasn’t so free—it was more like being in the center of a roaring avalanche. Kristoff House crashed through limbs and scattered branches on its way down, shearing off one entire side of the mighty tree.

  “I love you guys!” Brendan called unexpectedly. Eleanor hugged Cordelia. Cordelia closed her eyes. Will kept his chin up. They all braced for impact in their small bewildered ways—