The Caterpillar King

by Noah Pearlstone

  But as we moved forward, Tika seemed to turn even whiter, if that was possible. Then she stopped talking at all. While I kept checking on her, I noticed that the white line was dying out. Eventually, we came to a fork in the road, and the line disappeared.

  “Which way?’ I asked.

  “I know this place,” she said. But she didn’t sound too happy about it.

  “Of course you do,” said another voice. The sound came from a patch of grass in front of us. A huge gray caterpillar crawled out of the grass. He looked like he had been carved out of stone.

  “Hello there, Tika,” he said.

  Tika took a few steps back. “I do not understand…” she said.

  The big gray caterpillar looked up at me. “You must be the one Tika left me for.” He looked me over. “Very tall,” he said. “Yes, very tall.”

  “What’s so bad about that?” I said. “And are you saying you were Tika’s…”

  I glanced at Tika. She seemed to be holding her head in shame.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” he said. “I have been put here to prevent you from moving forward. If you want to get past me, you’ll have to defeat me.”

  “You mean I’m supposed to kill you?”

  He laughed. “Of course not. I challenge you to a test of strength.”

  “OK…sure,” I said. That didn’t seem like much of a challenge. Tika looked more worried, though.

  “It will not be so simple,” she said.

  The gray caterpillar crawled over to a rock that was about his size.

  “Watch,” he said. He wrapped his body around the edge of the rock. Slowly, the rock started to rise. But he was definitely struggling. I thought about going over to lend a hand. In the end, though, he was able to force the rock up. It rested neatly on his back.

  “Yes!” he screamed. Then he shook the rock off. “Now it’s your turn.”

  “All right,” I said. I walked towards him and got ready to pick up the rock.

  “Not so fast,” said the gray caterpillar. “I lifted a rock that was heavier than me. It is only fair that you also lift a rock that is heavier than you. That one should work.” He motioned to a giant boulder sitting next to the tree. It was much larger than me, and there was no way I’d be able to lift it.

  “You changed the rules,” I said. “You cheated.”

  He shrugged. “If you want to pass, you must prove your strength.”

  I turned to Tika, but she didn’t seem to have any ideas. How could I be beaten by a caterpillar? His brain was the size of a tack. It occurred to me that that was my real advantage over him. Maybe I couldn’t outmuscle him, but I could definitely outsmart him.

  “You underestimate me,” I told him. “That little rock is nothing. It’s not even worth my time. Instead, I will show you a true feat of strength. I will lift the heaviest rock there is—the planet Earth.”

  The caterpillar didn’t believe me at all. “I’d like to see that,” he said.

  “Just watch.” I focused all my energy. After a few deep breaths, I bent down. My hands touched the ground. Then I kicked my legs up, throwing myself into a handstand.

  “So you see,” I said. “I am the strongest.” A second later, I flipped back down.

  “Impossible…” said the caterpillar. He tried to do a handstand of his own, but it was no use. His body just wasn’t made for it.

  “I am a man of my word, so I will let you pass,” he said. “But first, please lift me up. I haven’t been airborne in too long.”

  He crawled over to me, and I went ahead and picked him up. He looked into my eyes.

  “You are not the first,” he said. “And you won’t be the last. There was a young girl. We returned her to the arms of her “mother”— mother earth. We buried her underground. Our saviors have suffered and starved and died. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

  Then the caterpillar motioned for me to bring him even closer. He whispered, so only I could hear.

  “I know that glassy look in your eyes. You don’t remember a thing, do you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Exactly. I’ll tell you only one more thing. Have you noticed our Tika eating at any time? No? Then how do you think we survive?” He paused. “We live off memories. I’d be willing to bet Tika hasn’t told you how you lost yours, has she? Draw your own conclusions.”

  With that, my head was spinning. I needed some time to think it over. The caterpillar motioned to be put down, so I started to lower him. And then he did something I never would’ve expected: he bit me.

  I saw strips of light and my hand burned. In my mind, there was no doubt about it: the caterpillar was highly poisonous, and I was going to die. I didn’t even feel myself fall over. The strange thing was, I expected the world to go black. But then I realized it was turning black and white. I was back in my only memory. If I had to watch my Mom knit for all eternity, I have to say that’d be an awful punishment.

  But this time, a few details were different. The blanket she was knitting had gotten bigger. It trailed down over both sides of her legs like a skirt. There was something else, too, but I couldn’t quite place it. Naturally, I tried to look at her face, but that still wasn’t possible. My eyes fell to her necklace, the one that looked like an upside-down peace sign. Very faintly, the left half of the line started glowing.

  The white glow reminded me of the line we’d been following at our feet. Then I thought maybe the necklace didn’t look so much like a peace sign after all. In fact, it looked a lot more like a fork in the road. It was simple. We had to go left. I woke up saying, “We have to go left,” repeatedly. Tika looked at me like I was broken.

  “I know,” she said. “The line is here again.” She pointed at the ground, and sure enough, the white line was back by our feet. It split off at the fork to the left, just like I’d seen.

  “Where’s your friend?” I said. I was a little bit anxious because I really did not want to get bitten again. Tika nudged a small piece of wood next to her.

  “This is all that is left of him,” she said.

  I picked it up. It was about the size of a quarter, and in the shape of a pizza slice. It looked like something we could’ve played sticks and rocks with.

  “I’m going to keep it,” I said. It seemed like it would make a good souvenir.

  “Fine,” said Tika.

  She followed the path to the left, and I trailed behind her. I thought about all the things the gray caterpillar had said. Tika lived off memories, and I was missing mine. It wasn’t too hard to connect the dots. I kept following Tika, but now I stayed a safe distance away. I realized I couldn’t trust her at all.

  10.

  “Do you promise not to bite me?” I asked Tika.

  “I promise,” she said. “I promise, I promise, I promise.”

  “It was just the most painful thing ever and I would prefer not to experience it again.”

  “You have made that very clear,” she said. “Look out!”

  I looked up and just avoided smacking my head into a branch. Then I went back to examining my hand. I needed to make sure it wasn’t infected. There was still a small red mark on my palm. And trust me, if it turned any other color, Tika would be the first to know about it.

  After a minute, we came out of the forest and into a clearing. In the distance, I could see the white line leading to a pair of small hills. We walked towards them, and before long, I realized they weren’t hills at all. They were two piles. One was a pile of nets, the other was a pile of batteries.

  “Umm…” I said to Tika. “Do some of your friends live here by any chance?”

  “Very few of us make our homes above ground,” she said. “And they could not collect so many things.”

  That seemed like a fair point. Each pile was about the size of an elephant. There must’ve been a thousand nets and ten thousand batteries. Then I remembered the last time I lay down in the nets, and how comfortable they were. Suddenly, I felt very tired.

 
; “I’m going to take a quick nap,” I said.

  “You should not,” said Tika. “First, let us examine our surroundings.”

  She crawled in a circle around the piles. She was small and the piles were big. It was a long time before she came back.

  “Safe?” I said.

  Tika had a look of deep reflection on her face.

  “Do you know about the story of the nets and batteries?”

  I told her I didn’t.

  “I think you know at least some,” she said. “Nets are good for sleeping. They have been used in our culture for thousands of years. Batteries have an opposite effect. After touching a battery for some time, we become energetic and alert. And then we move at great speeds.” She paused. “It is a sign.”

  “What?” I said. “We’re supposed to take a nap now? Or we’re supposed to go really fast for a long time?”

  Tika smiled. “Neither,” she said. “We are meant to take some of each with us. When we need to rest, we will rest. When we need to move, we will move.”

  Tika made it all sound so simple. But she was leaving out one key part: she couldn’t take anything with her. Every net and battery we carried along would wind up with me. Personally, I felt like the nets would be more useful and easier to carry. When it comes down to it, if I don’t get a good night’s sleep, I’m not moving fast. It doesn’t matter if you stick me in a pile of batteries or plug me into an outlet. It just isn’t going to happen.

  I picked up a couple nets and slid them around my wrists. Tika nudged a battery towards me.

  “If you do not balance the two, you will fall asleep standing up,” she said.

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” I said.

  But in the end, I pocketed the battery, just to make her happy.

  Before we moved on, I collected a dozen nets and two pocketfuls of batteries. I guess I was balanced, because I didn’t fall asleep, and I didn’t feel too energetic, either. I just felt like myself.

  But with every step, the batteries bounced against my legs, making the walk an uncomfortable experience. It got even worse once the ground became rocky and uneven. A couple times, I almost stumbled and crushed my friend.

  “Sorry,” I said. I had missed her by half a step.

  She frowned. “I think you are retaliating against me. You do not like carrying so many things.”

  I laughed. “I think you might be right.”

  As the sun began to set, the white line faded with it. After walking for some time, we came to a canyon. It was wide and deep and there was only one way across. There was a thin path of rock, almost like a bridge. The rock bridge led to a giant tree. It looked like you had to go through the tree to get to the other side. Behind the tree, the rocky path split off in two different directions, at diagonals. It was another fork in the road.

  “I have a feeling that this is the place for us to stop tonight,” said Tika.

  “Why?” I said. I’d gotten my second wind, and didn’t feel tired at all. Besides, I wanted to get across this canyon as soon as possible. It looked like the path could collapse at any moment. “If we start procrastinating now, we’ll never get anywhere.”

  “What is the meaning of this “procrastinate?”” she asked.

  “Waiting to do something hard instead of doing it the first chance you get. Like leaving a band-aid on for a really long time instead of tearing it off. That’s not the best example, though.”

  “I do not understand “band-aid” but I think I understand “procrastinate.” And we are not procrastinating. We are planning.” She paused. “In the tree ahead of us, there lives a squirrel. I know it just by looking at the tree.”

  “You mean the ones who eat…”

  “Exactly,” she said. “So we must be careful. It is dangerous for you also. Squirrels are full of cunning and deception. They claim to know everything, having answers to any question, but they do not. They will appear charming, but only so they can trick you. You must never believe a squirrel.”

  I nodded. “So, what are you thinking?”

  “We will sleep here until morning. Squirrels prefer to take naps in the morning. That is how we will catch them by surprise.”

  “But we still won’t know which way to go,” I said. “The white line’s gone.”

  “Perhaps the line is also tired,” said Tika. “Perhaps it is procrastinating, too.”

  Before I settled in for the night, I put all the nets and batteries on the ground. I couldn’t be expected to sleep with a pocketful of batteries, after all. We made a circle of nets around us. It was about the same size and shape as our old ditch. Sometimes, it’s nice to be reminded of an old, familiar place, even if it had its flaws.

  Tika lay down and before long, her breathing fell into a pattern. She was fast asleep. And I had a plan of my own.

  First, I gathered up all the batteries. Then I kicked them under a pile of rocks. It may have been stupid, but there was no way I could spend another minute walking with batteries in my pockets. I just couldn’t stand them.

  Then I stood up and walked towards the rock bridge. Tika had said squirrels couldn’t be trusted, but she wasn’t telling me everything she knew, either. If a squirrel could give me answers, then I’d take them. I’d be back at camp by the morning, no problem, and we could be on our way.

  The moon lit my way down the rocky path. Every step echoed, and occasionally I’d look back to see if I’d woken Tika. But she was as still and silent as ever. I came to the bridge and put one foot in front of the other, just like a tightrope walker. The floor of the canyon was so far below me that all I saw was a deep, empty hole. I tried not to look down too often.

  A minute later, I was facing the front of the tree. It had a door very similar to that of the caterpillars. I remembered to pull it open. Inside, the room was light and lively. I heard a flute playing in the background. In an overstuffed armchair, there was a squirrel. He was reading a book.

  “Company!” he said. The squirrel took off his glasses and hopped down from his chair. “I can’t let you pass unless you tell me a fact I’ve never heard before,” he said. He smiled. “Not to brag, but I’m fairly well-educated, so I don’t see that happening. But please, make yourself at home.”

  “OK,” I said. I sat in a nearby rocking chair.

  “You look exhausted,” he said. “Let me get you a drink, or you’ll fall asleep at any moment.”

  The squirrel went to the tiny kitchen and made me a drink. I noticed him putting in a teaspoon of white powder. When he finished stirring it in, he brought it to me.

  “Enjoy,” he said.

  I smelled it, and just from that I knew it would be delicious. But I also remembered Tika’s warning. The drink could have been poisoned. When the squirrel turned his back, I dumped the drink behind the chair. It was louder than I expected.

  “Why’d you do that?” the squirrel asked.

  “I spilled,” I said.

  He sighed. “Have it your way.”

  The squirrel settled back into his chair. The music in the background sounded like violins now. I admit, I’m not much of a classical fan. It was enough to make me a little drowsy.

  “I like a good challenge,” said the squirrel. “By all means, if you’d like to pass, try me.”

  “OK,” I said. “Did you know that octopuses have three hearts?”

  “Really? That’s amazing,” he said. “But of course I knew that. Now teach me more…I mean, try again. Another animal fact, please.”

  “Giraffes can lick their ears.”

  “Fascinating,” he said. “I’ve always been astounded by that.”

  “Bats always turn left when they’re leaving their caves.”

  “That they do, that they do,” he said. “Another.”

  The squirrel was clearly enjoying himself. But no matter what fact I came up with, he would claim that he’d already known it. Eventually, I ran out of fun facts, and I told him as much.

  “Fine,” he said. “You’ve been generous
with me, and I’ll return that generosity. Here is what I know. You are not the savior. You are not on your way to your mother. In fact, this path will lead you directly to a witch.”

  “But I don’t understand…” I said. The words felt heavy in my throat. My eyelids slid down. The room turned dark. I couldn’t stay awake for much longer. “Why a witch? Who is she? My mother…and the witch?”

  The squirrel laughed. “Must be past your bedtime,” he said. “Just remember: you’re heading towards a witch. You are not the savior. Now, about that octopus. Does it really...?”

  But his voice trailed off as I sank into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  ***

  “Finch! You oaf, you scoundrel, you rascal, you…” Something was hissing in my ear. I opened my eyes to the morning light and rolled over. I was face to face with Tika.

  “Aahh!” I said. Even after a month, I wasn’t used to waking up with a bug next to me.

  “Quiet!” said Tika. “We must escape now. I have found the battery and touched it, so I can move fast. You hid them very well.”

  I gave her a guilty smile. “They were uncomfortable,” I said.

  “It is not important now,” she said. “We must cross before-”

  “What?” said a voice behind us. “Before paying your toll?”

  I turned around to see my old friend the squirrel. He did not look very well rested at all.

  “Run!” said Tika.

  I turned to head for the back door, but Tika was already outside. Those batteries really did work. I, on the other hand, was not moving so fast. What can I say? Even in life or death situations, I’m just not a morning person. Still, I made it to the back door, with the squirrel right behind me.

  “Before you leave,” said the squirrel. “One more piece of knowledge for you.”

  He ran at me and jumped. He soared through the air. I think he must’ve been a flying squirrel. With his mouth open, he sunk his teeth right into my leg. He’d bitten me.

  It was twice as painful as the caterpillar bite. The pain cleared my vision, until all I could see was black. Soon enough, white and gray edges melted into the image. I was looking at my only memory again.