Black & White Croakies

by Sam Cheever

  Slanted silver eyes peered down on me. Fangs as long as my hand hovered on the air two feet away, the slitted nostrils scenting me through the musty air. The tongue snapped out, tasting the air only inches from my face.

  Sizzling snake snot!

  I shuddered, my fingers nearly dropping the flashlight, and opened my mouth to scream.

  The monster reared back, its massive jaws opening wide, and then snapped its head in my direction, massive fangs flinging venom into the air as it attacked.

  20

  There’s no Need to Disrespect the Frog

  I dived sideways, crashing into the side of the tunnel as the fangs snapped together inches away. I scrabbled backward as fast as I could but the snake kept pace, jaw snapping in an attempt to impale me on its fangs.

  I flung myself into a roll a heartbeat before the fangs sank deep into the ground where I’d been. Climbing to my feet, I started to run. The snake struck again, its massive head slamming into me and sending me flying on a yelp of pain. I landed where the mass of smaller snakes had been, the ground slimy with something I didn’t want to examine too closely.

  The monster snake uncoiled and it was suddenly on top of me again, its snout an inch from my nose. I pressed back as far as I could go, hitting the wall way too soon.

  Venom dripped, sizzling ominously over the ground near my feet.

  I gave a small sound of pure fear, my throat closing around it, and my heart trying to beat its way through my ribs. Bracing myself against the wall, I watched in horror as the enormous jaws slowly opened, my death mirrored in the slanted silver eyes.

  My hand hit something cool and metallic on the ground. I trailed my fingers over it, realizing it was the flashlight. In desperation, I wrapped my fingers around the metal tool, thinking I could at least jam it between the snake’s jaws when it tried to bite down.

  It was a weak plan, fraught with so many possible problems. But it was all I had.

  I was pretty sure the key and the tissue in the purse would be worthless against a snake that was easily fifty feet long.

  The snake’s thick form tensed, shifted slightly, and I knew what it was going to do even before the huge head snapped forward.

  With a scream of pure terror, I lifted the flashlight, my thumb grazing over a lever on the side I hadn’t known was there. A wash of pale pink light flared over the snake a beat before its strike slammed home.

  The strike never came.

  I blinked, watching the silver eyes widen slightly in surprise, and then took the opportunity to scramble away. The pink arc of light wrapped itself around the monster, pulling him into the air and wringing him down to nothing.

  The snake disappeared with a pop and a burst of pink energy.

  I shoved slowly to my feet, pain enveloping me as adrenaline slowly eased out of my muscles.

  I glanced down at the flashlight in my hand, realizing it had somehow saved me.

  I looked to the spot where the snake had disappeared, squinting as the ground seemed to shift and wiggle.

  It was still there! But it was tiny, and I could barely see it. Apparently, it still existed on a microscopic level.

  A temporary fix?

  I wouldn’t wait around to find out.

  Shaking my head, I carefully slid my thumb back over the lever that had engaged the pink energy and gathered up my things. As I reached for the fallen purse, pain slashed through my arm. I looked down to find a long, ragged tear in the skin of my forearm where a fang had evidently scored a hit. As soon as I noticed it, the wound burned and throbbed. I stumbled a bit as panic flared. “What if there was poison in its venom?” I mumbled to myself.

  Blood oozed from the wound and slid down my arm. The blood burned where it touched my skin, probably from the venom mixed into it.

  I reached inside the bag and grabbed the tissue. Leaning against the cool wall, I wiped the wound, wincing at the agony of touching it.

  But wiping off the venom made it feel better almost immediately. I shoved the bloodied tissue back into the bag along with the flashlight and made sure the key was still there. Then I set off down the passage, hoping to catch up to Grym before any more monsters found me.

  Given my track record so far of escaping “all the bad things,” I was pretty sure that wouldn’t be happening.

  I found a tiny gun holster and hat on the ground several yards ahead in the passage. Frowning, I hoped that didn’t mean the boys had run into more trouble. I slipped the items into my purse in case Slimy wanted them back, and plowed onward.

  After an hour had passed without an end to the passageway or any sign of Grym and the boys, I started to worry. “Can this stupid passage really be this long?” I complained to myself. And why hadn’t I run into Grym? He should have been able to tuck Hobs and Slimy safely into a nook somewhere and come back.

  Worry tightened my chest and sped my steps. As I moved along the seemingly endless tube of rock and dirt, I became more and more convinced they’d found trouble.

  If that was the case, I was probably the only one who could help. I doubted there were any other rebels in the underground cave and tunnel system we’d literally fallen into.

  My pulse spiked. My heart rate sped. After trying to calm myself for several minutes without success, I finally gave into my panic and started to run.

  The passage ended without warning. One second I was flying along in a near panic, huffing and blowing like a water buffalo, and the next I was standing in another cavern, smaller than the first but still a good size. Like the previous cavern, it was filled with the strange formations, the eerie green light filling the space with dubious light.

  I looked frantically around, panic flaring brighter when I didn’t see my friends.

  “Grym? Hobs?”

  Silence met my call, and a deep feeling of foreboding filled me.

  Something was wrong.

  Something was very wrong.

  A tiny form appeared in the center of the cave. I squinted through the soft green light and realized it was Mr. Slimy. He was naked as I’d known he would be, and he wasn’t talking to me.

  For a moment, I wondered if it was a different frog. But it looked too much like him and he kept hopping in my direction, bulging black gaze locked on me.

  “Slimy?” I tried again.

  The frog hopped right up to me and landed on my foot. I looked down, perplexed. “Slimy, is that you?”

  Hush! sayeth the frog. We don’t want him to know I’m anything but a normal frog.

  I had no idea who He was, but I decided to play along. Flinging up my arms, I said, “Argh! It’s a nasty, warty frog!”

  I could feel Slimy rolling his eyes in my head. There’s no need to disrespect the frog, he said.

  What’s going on? I asked. Where are Grym and Hobs?

  He has them. Slimy took a hop onto my other shoe. I really hoped nothing scared him. Frog pee trickling down into my shoe was an experience I never wanted to have.

  He, who? Sheriff Andrew?

  “Hi,” a sweet, young voice said from across the cavern.

  I looked up to find Opie standing between two of the formations, small hands shoved into the pockets of his rough pants and his thick hair falling into his eyes. As I looked at him, his form wavered slightly and the air between the formations sizzled with light.

  I blinked and he was whole again, the air clear.

  I squeezed my eyes tight and then opened them, giving him a smile. “Hey, Opie. Is your dad around?”

  Run, Slimy told me, hopping off my foot. Get behind a rock or something.

  I ignored him, taking a step toward the little boy.

  Opie smiled. “Pa’s not here. He’s lookin’ for some bad guys.” Opie cocked his head. “You ain’t one of them bad guys, is ya?”

  “No. Of course not,” I told him, laughing. I took another step in his direction, drawn in by the clear blue gaze and adorable freckles. “I was just looking for my friends. Have you seen them?”

  Naida, yo
u need to take cover. Something’s building behind the boy. Something ugly.

  I turned to Slimy, frowning. Is he in danger?

  Slimy was silent. I took that as a yes. I moved closer still. “What are you doing down here, Opie? It’s not a safe place for little boys to play.”

  I immediately realized my mistake. His little face folded into a thunder cloud. “I ain’t little.”

  Holding up my hands in supplication, I smiled. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right. You’re definitely not little. But I’m guessing your pa wouldn’t like that you’re down here. Would he?”

  Opie’s frown slid away. “He ain’t gonna know about it. He’s busy like always. I like ta come down here and play.” His form wavered again as if he were only a hologram. But when he went solid, I could tell he was every bit as real as I was. He smiled, showing me crooked teeth. “Pa don’t know I found the door into this place. Only he has the key.”

  Well, that certainly put a ticky mark in the column for Sheriff Andrew being our artifact gate-keeper. Or, as Dugan would say, the heart of the artifact.

  “Have you seen my friends down here?” I asked again.

  Opie turned his head and pointed toward a nearby wall. I gasped.

  Grym and Hobs were hanging high above our heads, wrapped in vines like the ones Hobs had been swinging on in the other cavern. Their bodies were limp and their heads drooped.

  Suddenly, Slimy’s lost cowboy costume made more sense. They hadn’t wanted him, whoever he was, to know Slimy was magical. They’d been counting on the little green squish to warn me.

  And I’d ignored his warnings.

  Holy hoppin’ heartache! I was a derf.

  Still, I couldn’t just leave a small boy in danger. Not if there was even the smallest chance I could help him. I moved close enough to grab Opie’s arm. “I was wondering if you’d come over there, near my friends with me. Maybe you can help me figure out how to get them down.”

  If they’re still alive.

  The random thought impaled my poor, delicate heart like one of the Indian’s spears.

  I shook it off as soon as I thought it. They had to be alive. Rationally, there would be no need to hang them above the cavern if they were already dead.

  Emotionally…well…I’d fought off a monster snake and possibly poisoned myself on venom to get to them. I didn’t want to believe I might have lost them anyway.

  Besides, I’d miss Hobs’ irrepressible joie de vivre and Grym’s…

  Well, Grym’s everything.

  Opie shrugged and I reached out, offering him my hand. He took it with childish trust and I pulled him gently away from the formations.

  He stepped away from the eerily lit rocks just in time.

  Naida! Get out of there, now! Slimy screamed in my head.

  The cavern rumbled, rock dust sifting down from high above our heads. I started to run but the floor beneath my feet split apart and I was forced to jump or find myself falling down the crack.

  Opie’s hand slipped away from mine as the floor fell out from under me, and it was all I could do to grab the edge before I was sucked down into it.

  I hung on with everything I had, but I had zero strength in my arms. I hadn’t done a single pushup or pullup in my life. The idea that I could hold the result of hundreds of brownies and egg rolls up as the ground continued to shake and the cavern to rumble was ridiculous.

  Still, I had no choice. It was hold or die.

  An icy wind swirled upward from the crack, stale and putrid with the smell of old, dark magic.

  The color we’d regained from falling into the caverns was washed away under the putrid touch of the magic, turning us all shades of black and white again.

  With a horrified start of surprise, I realized I’d found the heart of the thing. And it was angry. So angry, that I was there.

  I kicked at the jagged rock under my stupid girly shoes, feeling the toe catch finally but the shoe threaten to slip off my foot. In desperation, I shook my foot and let the shoe fall into the abyss yawning below me. Then I dug my toes into the rock and, functioning under sheer desperation, shoved myself upward a few inches.

  My fingers scrabbled ineffectually against the rocky cavern floor, unable to catch enough to sustain my weight. I started to slip down again. Screaming my frustration, I dug my feet into the rock and pushed.

  Muscles screamed and tore. Agony blossomed through me as my fingertips ripped, turning slippery with blood.

  I fought tears, knowing I was the only one who could save Grym and the others, but also knowing I wasn’t up to the challenge.

  I was going to fail. And they were going to die.

  Then I remembered the purse. I’d shoved it into the waistband of my skirt when I’d been running down the passageway looking for my friends. Unfortunately, there was no way I could reach it without letting go with one hand. And I wasn’t letting go.

  I was barely holding on as it was.

  But there was something…

  Closing my eyes, I fought to concentrate on pulling the magic forward, knowing it would be a miracle if I managed it under the blanket of stress and fear currently covering me.

  I thought of the object I wanted to call.

  The magic hit with the force of a freight train. And when it flew from my fingers, it nearly blew me right off the wall I was clinging to.

  I screamed, clutching the wall with every ounce of desperation in my soul.

  Panting from my efforts, I tried climbing upward again, managing to tug myself an inch farther up the rock wall before I slid down again.

  The cavern finally quieted, the ground ceasing its constant rolling beneath me, and I took a deep breath.

  I jolted in surprise as the object I’d called clattered loudly to the floor mere inches away.

  It had worked!

  Elation filled me. Followed quickly by despair. If I tried to reach for the pitchfork I’d called, I’d surely fall. There was no way I could grab it before my single stick arm gave out and sent me plunging.

  “Blithering bat boogers!” I screamed into the cavern.

  A soft, distant giggling reminded me that I wasn’t alone. My head jerked upward. “Opie? Opie, I need your help.”

  Feet shuffled against the cavern floor behind me.

  I realized he might not be able to get to me. Even if he wanted to. He’d probably ended up on the opposite side and I had no idea how far the crack ran. “Can you get to this pitchfork?” I asked him, not hopeful.

  Silence.

  No help from that quarter. Fortunately, I hadn’t really expected any. I’d have to figure it out on my own.

  Without warning, I slid backward several inches. I yelped, barely managing to dig my toes into the wall to keep from falling.

  I took deep breaths, in danger of hyperventilating if I didn’t get my panic under control. I risked a glance upward, finding Grym and Hobs still hanging limply above me.

  Even if I could rouse them, I doubted they’d be able to peel the vining away and get to me.

  Not in time, anyway.

  Despair swept through me. I looked at the pitchfork and tried to pull more energy into my fingertips.

  Nothing.

  I stretched my fingers toward the fork, realizing I was inches too far away. The only way I’d be able to get to it would be to lunge for it and get my grip on the rock again before I fell.

  It would be a delicate balance of timing. I doubted I could pull it off.

  No! I shook off the negative thought. I could do it. I had no choice.

  “Ribbit!”

  I looked up to find Slimy hopping onto the upturned tines of the fork. I opened my mouth to yell at him, but the shaft lifted from his weight. He hopped to one side and the shaft shifted closer.

  I wanted to scream in joy. “Slimy, you’re a genius.”

  He hopped again, and again, until the handle was close enough to my fingers to grab. I pressed my fingers over it and Slimy jumped off. You’ll need to brace it, he told me
.

  I risked turning my head enough to see the crevice. I couldn’t turn far without slipping away from the wall. My grip was too tenuous. “What do you mean?”

  Brace it across the crevice, he said, his tone impatient.

  I shook my head. “I have no idea how wide the crack is. I don’t know if this is long enough.”

  It’s your only chance, he said, hopping closer.

  “I just don’t think…” The cavern rumbled and roared, rocks plummeting from the ceiling high above, and my fingers slipped from the wall.

  With a shrill scream of pure terror, I started to fall.

  21

  Trickle, Trickle, Trickle…

  My arms shot out, clutching in desperation for anything I could find, and closed around the shaft of the pitchfork. It slid off the flat surface and I grabbed frantically for it, even as I realized it was too short to hold me at the top of the crack.

  I fell a couple of feet and then slammed to a stop as the shaft wedged into the sides. The crack was narrower a few feet from the top.

  Thank the goddess.

  I yelped as my shoulders were nearly pulled from their sockets. But I was still alive.

  Wasting no time, I wrapped my arms around the shaft and walked my feet up the wall until I could roll over the handle, draped along my belly. I paused briefly to breathe away a wave of panic. Forcing myself not to look down, I shimmied toward the opposite side.

  I just needed to get to the wall so I could climb…

  A loud cracking sound filled the air. I yelped and shoved against the shaft with one foot, propelling me toward the other side as fast as I could go. When I got close enough to reach the wall, I gave the pitchfork handle one last shove with my feet and launched myself past the edge.

  I barely hit the rocky edge before the pitchfork cracked completely in half and fell away, disappearing into the vast emptiness below.

  I hit the hard dirt with the top half of my body, knocking the wind from my lungs. I shoved at the rocky wall and managed to get my whole body onto flat ground, then lay there for a moment, my heart pounding. After a moment, I sat up, shoving hair out of my face.