by Adam Sidwell
He yanked open the screen door and dashed past Mom folding laundry in the living room. “How did the lessons go?” she asked.
He did not stop to answer. He leapt up the stairs, taking them three at a time. First Gaucho, then Felicity. They both agreed. It was too unlikely a coincidence. If Felicity was right and Guster was incredibly delicious, and Gaucho was right that something with a sweet tooth was hunting him, then one irrefutable fact existed: Guster was like a tasty, flashing neon sign that said “Eat Here”.
He hesitated at the top of the stairs. This news from Felicity was too much. He needed someone to help him. He needed allies.
Mariah’s door was on his left. It was closed. Zeke and Guster’s room was at the other end of the hall. Their door was open. Mariah would have good ideas. She always knew what to look up or where to go to solve their problems. He lifted his knuckles to knock.
But she’d been so distant lately. Low, sad, melodic lyrics snaked out from under her door—something about how the world’s invisible heart doesn’t know her name. She was listening to that music full of feelings again, just like she had been for months.
Guster paused. He turned toward his and Zeke’s room. He found Zeke there, lying on the bed, his shirt off, sweating as he bench pressed a football.
“High reps. Low weight,” said Zeke. He faked throwing it at Guster. “What do you want, P?”
Guster closed the door behind him. “Zeke, I’m running away from home.”
***
It didn’t take more than a few minutes to explain everything to Zeke about Felicity’s mother sauce and Gaucho del Pantaloon. Guster was careful what details he used when he got to the part about Yummy—leaving out words like monster and hunting would keep Zeke from freaking out. It didn’t matter.
“I told you!” said Zeke. He thrust Barrister’s Certified Real Field Guide to Lesser Known Creatures in Guster’s face. “I . . . told . . . you!” Zeke leapt up on the bed and started shaking his backside and flapping his arms like a chicken.
Guster frowned. Maybe telling Mariah would have been the better choice.
“Let’s go see him!” said Zeke.
“Who?” asked Guster.
“Gaucho del Pants-bassoon!” said Zeke.
“That’s not his name,” said Guster. Zeke thought this was all so funny. He wasn’t the one at the center of the mess. “Not now. We need a plan.”
Zeke saluted. “Right. Let’s pack our backpacks. Then we’ll wait until dark. Then we’ll steal the car and drive to California.”
Guster sat down on the bed and curled his knees up to his chest. Asking Zeke to come up with a plan was likely to land them both in jail, or worse, get them grounded. The problem was, Zeke was kind of right. They had to get as far away as possible. Guster could see that now.
“What if we tell Mom?” asked Guster.
“Are you crazy?” said Zeke. “You’ll be in so much trouble for endangering this family and bringing the horrible cousin of Bigfoot’s wrath upon us! You’ve done this to us all!
“Besides, you tell her and she’ll just call animal control. By then it will be too late. She’s not going to leave this house again. Not after what happened last summer. Think of Henry Junior!”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen!” Guster cried, just loud enough so his voice wouldn’t carry. But he did think of Henry Junior. Henry Junior was big enough to toddle up and down the stairs by himself now, and loved nothing more than popping Guster’s cheeks when Guster puffed them up like a blowfish. It was Henry Junior’s favorite game. For all he’d grown, Henry Junior was still just so innocent and tiny. He needed protecting.
If Guster stayed, there was no telling how many hours or minutes before Yummy chomped his way into the farmhouse, smashing it to splinters in search of a morsel of Guster. Time was running out.
“We’ll wait until dark,” said Guster, stuffing an extra shirt into his backpack.
Zeke leapt down off the bed, his eyes growing so wide with excitement they nearly popped the pimples right off his face.
“Now you’re talkin’!” said Zeke, and started to pack his backpack as well. “We’ll need this for reference,” he said, stuffing Barrister’s Field Guide into his pack. Guster hoped Zeke was wrong about that.
***
By the time the sun had finally disappeared, it was nearly nine o’clock. Felicity had chosen to cook her own dinner outside in the RV. Guster and Zeke had been very quiet during their dinner, which earned more than a few eyebrow raises from Mom.
Guster felt like he was eating his last meal. Mom made beef stroganoff, taken directly from season four, episode seven of Felicity Casa’s show Roofs. It was pretty good too. Beneath all the noodles and sauce was her signature flavor, written in longhand across the flavors.
“How does it taste?” Mom asked Guster. She smiled an extra nice smile. Maybe she was trying to make it up to him after forcing him sit through Felicity’s sessions all day.
“It’s tangy,” said Guster, his mouth full of noodles.
“I’m glad you like it.” Mom smiled. “I’m making you a special dessert.”
She wasn’t making this easy. He nearly blurted out everything right then, confessing all his plans. “I . . . I . . . Mom, there’s . . .” said Guster.
Zeke stuffed a forkful of noodles into Guster’s mouth. Guster almost choked, trying to force it down the right pipe. The morsel did its job; Guster settled back down in his chair and chewed quietly. He did not try to speak again.
After dinner, Mom sent everyone to bed early so they could get up in time for camp the next day.
But instead of sleeping, Guster and Zeke waited quietly behind their bedroom door. As soon as Mom and Dad’s door closed and their light went out, Guster and Zeke tiptoed down the stairs to the garage.
“Wait,” said Guster, stopping by the refrigerator. He couldn’t leave just yet. The fridge was full of leftovers from Mom’s dinners this week. It was his lifeline.
He found a small cooler in the pantry, got some ice from the freezer, and began stuffing it full of whatever meals he could find: lasagna from Tuesday, chicken pot pies from Wednesday, and the beef stroganoff from tonight.
It would last him for six or seven meals at least. After that, well, that’s where his plan came to an abrupt end.
“Hurry,” Zeke hissed, holding the door to the garage open for Guster. They snuck into the darkness of the garage where the family Suburban was parked. Zeke grabbed the keys from off the hook next to the doorframe and crept around the car to the driver’s side. Guster opened the passenger door.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked a voice in the darkness.
Zeke fell backward, stumbling into some cans.
Guster’s throat tightened. They were caught. Mariah was sitting behind the steering wheel, her arms folded. What was she doing here?
“Quiet, Zeke. You wouldn’t want Mom to wake up,” said Mariah calmly.
“You were waiting for us,” said Guster. “How did you know?”
“Henry Junior’s old baby monitor has been in your room for weeks,” said Mariah. “I could hear every word of your plans.”
Zeke stood up and rushed to Mariah. “Extortion! Blackmail! You no-good eavesdropper! This is against my constitutional rights!” he said, pushing his face up to hers.
She’d betrayed them. Sure, Mariah had been so emotional lately, but Guster never expected this.
“Are you going to tell?” asked Guster. Maybe it would be better if she did.
“No,” said Mariah. “I’m not here to rat you out, however much you may deserve it. Instead, I’m here to offer you a better plan.”
Zeke craned his head backward, the disbelief almost shining off his face in the dark garage. “You’re what?”
Mariah slid out of the driver’s seat. “Zeke, if you start this c
ar, Mom and Dad will be down here in 2 seconds flat. Besides, even if you do get as far as California, Mom and Dad are going to call the police, and you’ll land yourself in jail for grand theft auto.”
“They wouldn’t!” cried Zeke.
Mariah shrugged. “Or, you could take the train with me to New York City.”
“Wait, you want to go with us?” asked Zeke.
Mariah nodded. “There’s more to Gaucho del Pantaloon and this mysterious creature than there appears. That much is clear.”
Guster smiled a little. Underneath the layers of cherry lip gloss she was still Mariah, and Mariah could never resist a good mystery.
“So that’s it? Take the train to New York?” said Zeke. “Some plan. At least California has movie stars.”
“And New York has stock brokers,” said Mariah. “But what really matters are the smells. If this Yummy is tracking Guster because Guster smells like a fresh chocolate cream puff, we’ll need to go to a place where we can hide. New York City has got a smorgasbord of smells. Think of all that food! There’s no better place to mask your scent, little brother.”
Little brother. She hadn’t ever called Guster that before. He didn’t like it. He was twelve—only two years younger than Mariah. And he was not a cream puff.
“Yes! Conventional wisdom states that rubbing your body in earthworms makes you invisible to Bigfoot, for example,” said Zeke. He thought for a moment, scratching his belly, then a wide smile broke across his face. “Let’s wrap Guster up in a pizza!”
“Shhh,” said Guster. “Mom will hear.” Zeke was ridiculous. Guster turned to Mariah. “So what now?”
“We get our bikes and ride to the bus station,” said Mariah, holding up a few sheets of paper. “I’ve already printed out an itinerary for travel by train from New Orleans to the city. Once we’re there, we’ll drop in on Aunt Priscilla so we have a place to stay.”
“She’ll tell Mom for sure,” said Guster. Aunt Priscilla had almost completely ignored them last time they needed her. They’d had to beg her for help.
“Not necessarily,” said Mariah. “You know how little she seems to notice us. We’re practically invisible. And even if she does tell Mom, we’ll have a head start.”
Mariah had a point. Having her be a part of the plan made Guster feel better about the whole thing. Mariah was always the obedient one. If she thought this was a good idea, it couldn’t be that bad.
Besides, there was a part of Guster begging to go without Mom. He needed to be out there on his own to see if he could do it. Dad’s words echoed in his brain: You’re going to have to learn to do things without your mom hovering over you.
They steered their bikes out of the garage and into the backyard, where the shadows crisscrossed the grass. The crickets chirped and the moon was low as Guster hooked the cooler to his bike. He straddled his bike at the end of their gravel driveway and hesitated.
“Yummy’s out there,” he whispered. “And it’s dark.”
“Then pedal fast,” said Mariah. She sped off without a backward glance.
Zeke took off after her. Guster took a deep breath and pedaled after them. It was better than getting left alone.
They pedaled as fast as they could, Guster looking over his shoulder into the trees the whole mile into town, until they finally reached the bus station.
Luckily a yellow light still shone inside the double glass doors. Mariah bought 3 tickets to New Orleans from the old conductor who sat behind the counter in a small booth.
He squinted over his glasses at the three of them. “You’re Henry’s kids, aren’t you?” he asked. Almost everyone knew each other in their town.
“That’s right,” said Mariah. “Mom and Dad are sending us on a trip.”
“That so?” said the conductor, taking the money and counting out the tickets. He slid them through the glass.
“Yep,” said Mariah, and turned without further reply.
They crossed the small parking lot, locked up their bikes out of sight behind the station, then sat down on a bench under a dim lamp to wait. That conductor made him nervous. The sooner they got on the road the better.
A quarter of an hour later the bus arrived with a rumble and a hiss as the doors opened. The three of them climbed the stairs to the bus and found seats at the back. Guster set the cooler down on the seat beside him. There were only two other passengers aboard, both of which sat near the front.
Guster had just settled in next to the window on the long bench when something clattered and clanged up the steps of the bus, tumbling over and nearly falling on the driver.
“Let me aboard!”
In the dim light of the bus Guster could make out a small man with stubby limbs and a pear-shaped metal chest piece. Gaucho! Guster charged up the aisle.
“Do you have a ticket?” asked the driver. His eyes darted back and forth, as if he was waiting for someone to explain who the strange little man was.
“He’s with me,” Guster said, stepping between Gaucho and the driver. Guster looked Gaucho in the eye. “Go have a seat. I’ll take care of this.” He jumped off the bus and purchased one more ticket from the conductor with a wad of dollars from his pocket.
When Guster returned, Gaucho was still at the front, bowing to the two passengers who sat there. “My compliments on such a marvelous metal machine,” he said, smiling.
Guster sighed and ushered Gaucho to the back of the bus, past the passengers’ bewildered stares.
Zeke’s jaw fell open. “Are you a robot?” he asked, reaching out to rap Gaucho’s metal chest plate. It clanged a hollow clang.
Mariah pulled Zeke’s hand away. “Don’t be rude,” she said. “This man is a conquistador.”
Zeke looked confused. Guster had heard that word before, but wasn’t sure he remembered what it meant.
“Like Cortez or Pissarro,” Mariah said. “They were Spanish conquerors who came to the New World after Christopher Columbus.”
Gaucho del Pantaloon bowed low to Mariah, and then sat down next to her. “It is my pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a refined lady of taste,” he said, removing his helmet.
Not exactly the words Guster would’ve called Mariah, but that didn’t matter. “Gaucho, what are you doing here?” he demanded.
“Following you, Señor. I see you have heeded my advice to flee. I must make sure that you are safe from Yummy.”
Guster could appreciate that. Gaucho seemed genuinely worried about him.
The bus engine rumbled and sputtered as the wheels began to roll toward New Orleans.
The whole way, Mariah explained how the conquistadors were Spanish explorers who sailed to America and built cities and fought wars. Guster remembered now where he’d read about them in his history book. “They sailed to Peru!” he said.
Mariah nodded. “And there are all sorts of legends about things they did, like finding the Fountain of Youth—it’s somewhere in Florida, I think—or discovering a hidden city made of pure gold. They said that the City of El Dorado was the capital of a kingdom of gold. Its streets were paved with pure gold bars, the walls of its many pyramids were plated in gold, and its king bathed in gold dust.”
“There were many who tried to find the lost City of Gold over the centuries, but whenever anyone set out to do so they never returned.” Mariah looked over at Gaucho, her eyes curious. “Where is it that you said you came from?”
Gaucho’s eyes darted to the floor nervously. “I did not say, exactly. I assure you, all of these things are just rumors and stories,” he said. “I myself have never been to this land here until this year, when I followed Yummy here.”
“Then where exactly is your city located?” said Mariah. Guster shot her a warning glance. Now was not the time or place for Gaucho to draw his sword.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Guster, trying to steer the conversation els
ewhere. Mariah seemed to get the hint.
“How old are you?” Guster asked. If Gaucho was a conquistador, he should’ve died hundreds of years ago.
“I don’t know. Perhaps thirty, or maybe fifty,” he said. “It’s not polite to ask a man his age. My grandfather’s great-grandfather’s father had sailed around the globe, exploring these places you talk about. But me? I prefer to stay put when I can and enjoy life’s luxuries. When you’ve found a home as magnificent as mine, you like to settle down.”
Mariah wrinkled her lips and squinted at him. She didn’t look convinced. “Guster, I think he’s talking about the lost city of El Dorado. The City of Gold.”
“Gold?” said Zeke, his eyes glazing over. “Just think of the rims we could buy for Mom’s suburban if we went there.”
Guster jabbed Zeke in the ribs with his elbow.
“I’ve heard that no one has ever been able to find the city,” said Guster.
“It’s true,” said Mariah. “Many people have gone into the jungles of South America looking for it, never to return.”
Guster settled back into his seat and watched as the trees zipped by in a blur. El Dorado. The City of Gold. All protected by monsters.
At least he felt safe on the bus. The seat was soft, and the engine hummed as they sped along the highway. With each passing mile, his problems seemed to melt away.
He tried to sort out everything that had happened that day: Felicity, the mother sauce, Gaucho and the monster. There was so much happening all at once, and all of it was unexpected.
The bus slowed as they came to a four-way stop between an open field and a thicket of trees. Guster’s head bobbed forward as the brakes hissed. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a shadow shift in the field.
He pressed his face up against the glass. There was nothing there but grass and weeds all the way to the woods.
Then, all at once, something enormous darted toward the road. It was massive—at least twice as tall as Guster, and three times as wide. It was bigger than a bear, with lurching arms and short hind legs.