Tumble & Blue

by Cassie Beasley

  He stared at the alligators. They didn’t seem to care about the clamor the newcomer was causing.

  The stranger’s face was covered by his wet hair, but he must have been able to see well enough because when he turned his head and spotted Munch, he had the same reaction as Tumble and Blue. He went still. For one breath. Two.

  Then he dove under the water.

  Blue stared at the place where he had disappeared. What was he doing? He couldn’t hide underwater for long.

  When the stranger’s head finally popped up, he was farther away from them, closer to the island. He was swimming right toward Munch.

  “Blue,” said Tumble, panic stretching her voice thin. “Blue, he’s going to beat us!”

  Blue looked at the moon. He looked at the man swimming away from them, diving under again. He looked at the gators and Tumble and all of it.

  This is a race, he realized.

  And they were losing.

  ■ ■ ■

  Tumble and Blue flailed with the life jacket for a couple of seconds before they both realized, at the same time, that they would be faster on their own. Tumble launched herself forward, and Blue went underwater.

  He swept his arms in the smooth arcs he’d used so many times to cross hotel pools. He couldn’t see under the water, so he caught what was happening around him in flashes when he came up for air.

  Tumble was right in front of him for a while, and the man was a few yards ahead of them both. Then Blue went under. He kicked hard. Swept his arms.

  And came up to find that he’d passed Tumble.

  He went under again and moved forward through the water until his lungs hurt. When he broke the surface, he saw that he was gaining on the stranger, who didn’t seem to realize yet that he was being followed.

  He went under. Came up. He was still gaining.

  But I can’t win.

  He could hear the deep thrum of Tumble’s splashing legs and arms whenever he was underwater. She could win. Possibly. Only she wasn’t a fast enough swimmer.

  Blue thought of a new plan. He would catch up to the stranger, and he would grab on to him. Somehow, he would slow him down just enough for Tumble to pull ahead. He could do that much.

  He swam as hard as he ever had.

  Every time he went under the water, he pushed through it with all his might. He kicked until his sneakers slipped off and his legs throbbed. He surfaced for just long enough to gasp air, then went back down, not even checking to see how close he was getting to the other swimmer.

  He couldn’t afford to waste the time. Not until he was sure he was almost there.

  When he thought he must be near his goal, he finally took a moment to look. It was hard to focus his vision. Lights were wriggling in front of his eyes, and he had a stitch in his side that tugged at him with every desperate breath.

  The island was so close.

  Blue could see the crimson gleam reflecting in Munch’s eyes. The alligator definitely wasn’t sleeping.

  Was the stranger underwater? He must be almost to the shore. The thought filled Blue with a final rush of adrenaline.

  I can’t lose. Not again. Not this time.

  He ducked his head and surged under the water as swiftly as if he’d been fitted with propellers.

  ■ ■ ■

  Tumble was doing the perfect overhand stroke she’d practiced after reading about the time Maximal Star saved the crew of a yacht in Tahiti. But in the dark, with so few landmarks, she was having a hard time swimming in a straight line.

  When she realized she was off course, she started looking up more frequently to get her bearings. That was how she saw everything.

  The stranger and Blue were both under the surface when the golden alligator let out a booming bellow that echoed off the black water. Tumble didn’t speak gator, but she knew a battle cry when she heard one.

  The alligators reacted in an instant to their master’s call. They slid into the water as one, an army of teeth and scales, and Tumble realized with horror that they must be aiming for the nearest intruder. The stranger’s head popped up a few seconds later, but the alligators were already out of sight. He didn’t know what was coming for him.

  Tumble screamed. She was too out of breath for a good long one, and she didn’t even bother with words. She just screamed and gasped and screamed and gasped and slapped the water with both of her arms, trying to make as much sound as possible.

  The stranger turned around.

  Tumble took a deep breath. “The alligators!” she cried. “They’re in the water!”

  Whoever he was, he didn’t need to be told twice. He started swimming toward her, arm over arm, water flying up around him as he flailed. Tumble treaded water, thinking fast. Blue was still under the water. But the stranger was making more noise so maybe Blue was safe.

  Oh, she hoped Blue was safe.

  Lines from How to Hero Every Day were running through her brain, but none of them told her what to do about an impending alligator attack. Maximal Star had never dealt with one.

  All Tumble could think was that if she was going to battle with something that swam, she needed to get out of the water.

  The canoe.

  Tumble hated to do it, knowing the alligators were out there. But she took a deep breath and went underwater. She wanted to swim quietly. Not loud like the stranger.

  And I can hold my breath for a long time now.

  She was up to seventy-nine seconds. If she got pulled under by strong jaws, that was how long she would have before she—

  Swim, Tumble. Swim.

  Her heart was trying to escape through her ribs. She kicked with everything she had left. When she surfaced, gasping, she was only a yard away from the canoe. It was floating low. She stroked toward it and saw that it was half full of water.

  Tumble threw her arm and leg over the edge, bashing her knee hard against the metal side as she did. She tried to pull herself up, but the canoe tipped toward her, and more water flooded in.

  No.

  Tumble tried again. The wooden paddle slid out and splashed into the water beside her.

  Tumble stopped. Her muscles were burning, and her arms were shaking. She wasn’t going to be able to get into the canoe by herself.

  She looked around for anything that might help and saw the life jacket drifting nearby. She kicked for it, dragging the wooden paddle behind her with one hand. Suddenly everything that floated seemed important.

  By the time she managed to struggle into the jacket, the stranger had reached her.

  “Where are they? The alligators!?” He was wild-eyed and breathing even harder than Tumble, and he had strips of white medical tape across the bridge of his recently broken nose.

  “Howard!”

  “Tumble!” he shouted. “What are you doing out here?”

  “What are you doing out here?! Blue and I saw the moon and we wanted—”

  “Blue!” Howard whipped his arms, spinning around in the water to look for his cousin. “Blue! Where is he?”

  Tumble saw him. He was at the island. He was climbing out of the water. He’s all right, she thought. Blue’s okay. Relief warmed her for all of a second.

  Then Howard disappeared under the water.

  FORTY-SIX

  MEETING

  Blue crawled onto the island, hands scrabbling at the weeds and roots along the bank to pull himself up. He’d lost his shoes during his swim, and one of his socks. He was hot, trembling, and light-headed, but he made it onto his feet. He stumbled forward, ready to grab—

  Where had the stranger gone? Blue had to stop him from reaching Munch.

  He felt the failure closing in on him. It was a wretched, familiar sensation. He’d tried. He’d given everything, but he still wasn’t good enough.

  Then he looked to his left. He saw the all
igator. It was the old story come to life, only it was more than a story ever could be. Glowing and golden, the alligator watched him through slit-pupiled eyes.

  The smile on its snout was wickeder than the moon above.

  ■ ■ ■

  Tumble didn’t think. There wasn’t time.

  Howard had gone down. Something—possibly one of the alligators—had dragged him under. She gripped the boat paddle in both hands and stabbed it into the water as hard as she could, aiming for the spot where Blue’s cousin had disappeared.

  If I hit him, so what? she thought. So what? He’s going to die!

  And maybe she would hit the alligator that had him instead.

  She stabbed and stabbed until her arms screamed for her to stop.

  Then she felt the paddle strike something fleshy and solid.

  She didn’t know if it was human or reptile or some other awful swamp monster, but she did know, right down to the bottom of her soul, that Howard Montgomery would rather be brained with a boat paddle than eaten alive.

  So she jabbed the paddle down again, as hard as she could.

  Some massive force under the water ripped it away from her. Tumble’s wrist twisted, but she didn’t even feel it.

  There, just under the surface, was a pale hand, reaching for her help.

  Tumble reached back.

  Howard came up, coughing and spitting water.

  “Are you hurt?” Tumble shouted in his face. She was still holding his hand in both of hers.

  He grabbed for the shoulder of her life jacket. She went under for an instant, then bobbed back up as he let her go.

  She spat out a mouthful of water. “I said ARE YOU HURT?!”

  “I don’t know!” Howard cried.

  Tumble didn’t believe a person could not know if his legs had been gnawed off. “CAN YOU MOVE YOUR LEGS?”

  “Why are yelling at me?!”

  Tumble paused. She hadn’t realized that she was. She took a few deep breaths. “If you can move your legs, we need to get to the canoe.” She spoke in the calmest voice she could manage, which wasn’t very.

  Howard seemed confused.

  “Swim that way!” Tumble commanded, pointing.

  It was three kicks to the canoe, and then Howard held the boat still while Tumble rolled into it with a splash.

  Tumble didn’t think he would be able to get in, too. He was too heavy, and she was too small to balance the canoe while he climbed aboard. She yanked at the ties on her life jacket and pulled it over her head.

  “Take it,” she said, waving it over the side of the boat at Howard. “Put it on. And stop flailing around so much. You’ll attract more alligators.”

  Howard’s eyes were still bugging out of his head in a way that made Tumble doubt his ability to follow instructions.

  “Put the jacket over your head,” she said slowly. “It will make you float.”

  Howard splashed a lot more than Tumble would have liked, but he managed to get the jacket on.

  He blinked up at her. “You saved me!”

  Tumble heard the words, but at first they didn’t make sense. She looked down at herself, safe in the boat. And at Howard, alive and wearing the life jacket. For now.

  There was a sploosh, and Tumble saw the wooden paddle popping to the surface a couple of feet from the boat. Part of its handle was missing.

  She clenched her jaw.

  “We’re not out of danger yet,” she said. “But if you do exactly what I say, we will be soon.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Blue looked around, searching. An impossible realization was dawning on him.

  Nobody else was here. It was just him. And Munch.

  Blue was first.

  What he felt then was magic. It was a happy, stunning sizzle. Somehow, he had made it to the island before anyone else.

  He, Blue Montgomery, had won.

  Unfortunately, his elation was brief.

  From the water behind him, he heard splashing and Tumble’s voice screaming. He whirled and spotted her, so much farther away than she should have been. She was slapping her arms up and down, sending up gouts of water that shone red in the moonlight.

  “The alligators!” she yelled.

  Blue looked around quickly, but all of the alligators that had been lying on the muddy bank with Munch were gone. He squinted into the trees, trying to see if they were hiding in the underbrush, waiting to lunge out if he drew near.

  The splashing behind him grew louder.

  A horrible thought struck like lightning. Was Tumble being attacked?

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” said a deep drawl of a voice. It was as slick as oil, and it was right beside him. “She’s hardly a mouthful, that one. And the congregation wouldn’t dare eat anyone tonight. Tonight’s mine, after all.”

  Blue turned, slow and careful as you had to be with a predator.

  The alligator wasn’t there anymore.

  Instead there was a man, too tall by half and dressed all in dark gold scales. He had slit-pupiled eyes to match.

  “Hello, Blue Montgomery,” Munch said, stretching his mouth to show teeth like ice picks. “I’ve been waiting ever so long to meet you.”

  FORTY-SEVEN

  MUNCH

  Blue had things to say to Munch. And he would. Just as soon as his voice came back from wherever it had gone.

  “Now,” Munch said, pointing his smile toward the moon, “there are a few rules by which we must abide.”

  He held up a sharp-nailed thumb and a finger, pinched together, and a long, thin needle as bright as anything Blue had ever seen appeared between them. It looked like a sliver of starlight.

  “What . . . ?”

  “What did you think fate would be?” Munch held the needle out toward him. “Now? Or shall we wait for your friend?”

  Blue stared.

  “You’re the first one here,” said Munch. “Victorious at last. Congratulations. Felicitations. The choice is yours. Do you take the night’s fate? Or do we wait for Tumble Wilson?”

  A big part of Blue was hungry. It wanted to reach out and grab the needle and change things, right that very second. But he and Tumble had an agreement. They had a plan.

  “I’ll wait,” he said, rubbing his palms nervously against his wet shorts. “We’ve come to ask you for a favor. Sir.”

  “So polite.” Munch’s grin widened. “Of course we’ll do what you say. You’re the boss, Blue Montgomery.”

  Blue had never felt less in charge in his life.

  “But you are,” said Munch, his voice reaching deep into Blue’s ears in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. “I promise, you will never be more in charge of yourself than you are under this moon. No curse will hold you back tonight.”

  Blue couldn’t stare into those eyes for long, but it only took a glance to see the darkness in them. And . . . the truth as well. What did it mean when someone had eyes that were both honest and evil?

  “Don’t worry too hard on it now,” said Munch. He twisted the fate so that its sharp tip caught the red moon’s light. “I doubt we will be meeting again after tonight. I tend to be a once in a lifetime event.”

  He turned his eyes toward the water.

  Blue was almost frightened to look away from Munch, but he needed to know what was happening to Tumble. Something was going on back at the canoe. Tumble and the stranger were . . . together?

  “Your companion is running behind schedule,” Munch said. “And your cousin has reached the end of his courage. Time to speed things along.”

  There was a harsh, rumbling sound, and Blue realized with a swoop of fear that it was coming from Munch.

  He took a step back, then hesitated. What if running away offended the alligator? The man? Blue was suddenly sure that Munch wasn’t either. And he had
the feeling that it wasn’t smart to offend something you couldn’t name.

  He squinted out over the water. Tumble was paddling the canoe slowly toward them, and then she was moving fast. Faster than anyone could paddle. Even Goat’s jon boat hadn’t moved that quickly.

  Tumble skimmed across the water toward the island, and Blue saw the stranger clinging to the side of the canoe. He was getting closer. He looked terrified. He looked like . . .

  “Howard!” Blue called.

  Tumble’s own face was startled but not frightened. Blue assumed that was because she didn’t realize what was propelling the canoe. He could see them now behind her—dark tails cutting through the water. And to either side of the boat, shining eyes appeared just above the surface.

  “Good boys,” Munch murmured.

  The canoe slid ashore, hissing across the weeds and throwing Tumble backward. She rolled out of the boat and ran around to the other side to check on Howard.

  Blue hurried to help.

  Howard was lying facedown in the mud, either too frightened or too unconscious to move. Whichever it was, Blue didn’t blame him a bit.

  But even in the bloody light, Tumble looked as alive as Blue had ever seen her. She pressed her fingers to Howard’s neck to check his pulse, and then she beamed up at him.

  “I did it!” she said, her voice euphoric. “He’s passed out, I think. But I saved him!”

  “Tumble, listen—”

  “Blue, you don’t get it. I saved him. And nothing went wrong! I didn’t get hurt, just normal bumps and bruises. I saved him. And nobody saved me.”

  “Great,” said Blue, “that’s great. But, Tumble. The alligator. I think you should know—”

  “Where is he?” Tumble said, determination taking over every inch of her body. “Where’s Munch? We’re going to get what we came for, Blue! Even if I have to turn that alligator into boots.”

  Blue gulped. “About the alligator,” he whispered. “He’s not exactly an alligator.”

  “Huh?”

  And then Munch was there, quick and quiet as a slither.