Puddlejumpers

by Mark Jean, Christopher Carlson

  Ernie retreated deeper into the shadows under the bridge. He could hear shouting, angry cursing, the clinking of leg irons, and the shuffling of hundreds of little feet. Finally the exhausted miners came into view. Above him, the Grunts marched them across the bridge to a prison on the opposite side. Primitive cells were chiseled out of the sheer rock wall along a narrow ledge high above the river. The workers dropped their tiny pickaxes, shovels, and sledgehammers in a pile. Grunts removed their irons, then locked them inside their cells. Other Grunts shackled the rested Jumpers, equipped them with tools, and herded them back across the bridge.

  As the fresh crews crossed above, Ernie spotted the twin Troggs harshly prodding Root and Runnel, Buck, Cully, and Chop to the prison on the far side. They delivered his friends to the chief jailer, a Red Grunt with one good eye and one seared shut. Just like the one-eyed field worker! Hissing, One Eye crammed his new prisoners into an open cell, then slammed the door and locked it with a key from the ring on his belt.

  The Grunt marched along the ledge past the cells to a ten-foot water tank at the far end. He climbed a ladder to a platform atop the steel cistern. By cranking a handle mounted on the platform, the jailer could propel a bucket along a wire that ran the length of the ledge to each cell. One Eye filled the bucket, but instead of delivering water to his prisoners, he dumped it on the ground. The thirsty Puddlejumpers moaned as the water trickled down the cliff to the hot lava, where it sizzled away. The sadistic Grunt cackled and jangled his keys, but Ernie felt a glint of hope. The jailer had given him just the idea he needed.

  His gaze jumped to the refinery, where the Troggs were still searching for him, then back to the bridge. Now! He scrambled onto the support column and started climbing, clambering from rivet to rivet. It was taller than Russ’ barn. Keep going, keep going. If a Trogg or Grunt looked in his direction, their search would be over.

  It felt like forever before he reached the underneath of the bridge. Breathing hard, he slipped one hand through the gap in the boards and got a good grip. Hanging by his fingertips, he reached for the next plank. Board by board, he grappled his way over the river of burning lava. On the far side, he jumped to the cliff, where he caught hold of a notch in the sheer rock.

  Ernie poked his head above the ledge. One Eye was stomping past the captives, taunting them. He could see Runnel in the cell closest to the water tank. He took a pebble from a pouch and tossed it into her cell. She looked over and met his gaze. The Jumpers whispered excitedly, but no one looked his way as word of Wawaywo’s arrival spread from cell to cell.

  Unseen below the ledge, Ernie used niches in the rock to work his way across the face of the cliff to a position just below the cistern. When the jailer went inside a storage cave where the Grunts kept the pickaxes, sledgehammers, and shovels, Ernie hoisted himself onto the ledge, scooted up the cistern ladder, and slipped into the tank. The cool water was a tonic to his overheated body. He resurfaced and peeked over the side.

  Runnel and the others were awaiting his command. Ernie put his hands to his throat and stuck out his tongue to show thirst, then pretended to drink. They understood and began calling for water, “Kadudee! Kadudee!”

  Ignoring their plea, One Eye brought the next pickax to his grindstone and pressed the blade against the spinning wheel, throwing hot sparks. But when all the Puddlejumpers began clamoring for a drink, he stormed out of the cave, snarling and hissing and threatening with his ax. Instead of silencing them, his threats only made them cry louder. The Jumpers became so unruly that the Troggs stopped their search of the refinery. Holsapple’s enraged voice boomed across the cavern from the far side of the river, ordering the jailer to silence the prisoners or surrender his keys.

  Deathly afraid, One Eye hurried to the cistern and climbed onto the platform. Ernie took a deep breath and dove underwater. From the bottom of the tank, he could see the Grunt’s silhouette cranking the pulley handle. Holding his breath, he waited. When the bucket plunged into the water, Ernie kicked off the side and propelled himself into the bucket, where he curled into a tight ball. He could feel himself being lifted out of the tank and transported along the wire.

  The bucket stopped at the first cell, where Ernie surfaced, gasping for breath. Runnel and Root, Buck, Cully, and Chop made a show of drinking water while Ernie urgently whispered his strategy. He’d barely finished when the jailer cranked the handle, sending the bucket to the next cell.

  At each water stop, Ernie shared his plan with the prisoners as they drank from the bucket. These Puddlejumpers had lost hope of ever escaping the Most Dark, and now, here inside their own decrepit water bucket, was the Rainmaker. Energized, they pledged their allegiance.

  When the bucket was empty, the Puddlejumpers clamored for more. One Eye cranked the handle in the opposite direction and Ernie sailed back along the wire to the cistern. As the bucket dropped into the tank, he dove back into the dark reservoir. One Eye cranked the handle forward again and the refilled bucket shuttled back down the line.

  Ernie bobbed to the surface of the cistern. The Grunt was turned away, watching the bucket. Ernie spit a sprinkle of water onto his shoulder. One Eye brushed it away like a bothersome fly and continued to crank. Ernie refilled his cheeks and powered a gusher that splattered the Grunt’s scaly neck, then dove underwater.

  Snorting angrily, One Eye peered into the tank. When air bubbles floated to the surface, he growled suspiciously.

  Ernie, blowing bubbles from the bottom of the tank, watched as the shadow leaned in to investigate. Closer…closer. He waited until the grotesque face hovered just above the surface before pushing off the bottom. Shooting out of the water, he grabbed the jailer by the tender flesh between his hairy nostrils, then, leveraging himself against the tank, yanked with all his might. The ambushed Grunt tilted forward and splashed into the cistern. Like all Troggs and Red Grunts, One Eye couldn’t swim and thrashed about in a panic. Darting in circles around the Grunt, Ernie poked his one good eye, then snatched the keys from his belt and vaulted out of the tank.

  He dashed to the first cell and unlocked the door, but the Jumpers remained inside as if nothing had happened. He raced to unlock the next cell, glancing back as One Eye clambered from the tank, spitting and sputtering and rubbing his eye. Hissing, the Grunt bared his needle teeth and charged along the ledge. But before he could reach Ernie, Cully and Buck shoved open their cell door with perfect timing to whack the Grunt. One Eye tumbled backward off the ledge and somersaulted down the cliff into the boiling river. As the jailer disappeared into his fiery grave, a plume of black smoke sizzled into the air.

  Ernie dropped to the ground and peered over the edge. Cobb was policing along the main road, spreading the word to be on high alert. The twins were gathering a knot of Grunts to search the mines. Ernie spotted Holsapple outside the refinery. The Trogg was staring suspiciously at the plume of smoke drifting downstream. He glanced up at the prison and Ernie ducked out of sight. When Ernie peeked again, Holsapple was dispatching two Grunts to inspect the smoke, before tromping off in the direction of the furnace.

  Ernie crawled along the ledge and unlocked the remaining cells, but the Puddlejumpers stayed inside, pretending to be locked up. Ernie’s heart was beating hard because at any moment a Trogg or Grunt might notice that the jailer wasn’t in his usual position patrolling the ledge.

  Root and Runnel, Buck, Cully, and Chop slipped from their cell and joined Ernie outside the storage cave. Try as they might, they couldn’t budge the heavy iron gate. Working fast, Ernie and Buck burrowed under the gate. The two Jumpers shuttled pickaxes, shovels, and sledgehammers back through the trench, where the others passed them to prisoners in the closest cells. Those Puddlejumpers passed the tools on to the next cell, where eager hands swooped them inside. Before long, the imprisoned Puddlejumpers were armed and ready.

  Leaving Buck and Cully behind to organize the tribe into fighting units, Ernie and the others eased off the ledge, then jumped to the top of the column on the undersid
e of the bridge. They started across, but Chop’s arms weren’t long enough to reach from plank to plank. Ernie put the littlest Puddlejumper on his back and led them over the burning river. Halfway across, they stopped to rest on a steel girder. If Ernie looked downriver, he could see the refinery. Upriver, he could see the coal mines and the fiery furnace. Getting his Acorn into the monster’s mouth seemed more impossible than ever. Maybe some kind of disturbance would distract the Troggs. There has to be something…. But what? Then he saw it.

  “Rada,” he whispered, pointing toward the giant pipe that ran from the monster’s arm all the way back to the refinery. “If we can shut off the oil,” he said, speaking fluent Puddlejumper, “who knows what might happen.”

  “It might make it worse,” said Root.

  “Maybe. But we need a diversion,” insisted Ernie. “C’mon, let’s go.” He squatted so Chop could climb onto his back, then they continued across.

  Once on the other side, they scuttled down the support column and disappeared into the shadows under the bridge. Ernie pointed to the sewer pipe, the same pipe he’d used to escape the refinery. “That’s the way inside,” he said. “But we’ll have to split up. You guys find the valve that cuts off the oil to that thing’s arm, and I’ll try to get to its mouth.”

  “One of us should stay with you,” insisted Runnel.

  “I will,” Chop volunteered.

  Ernie shook his head. He didn’t want to separate either, but there wasn’t a choice. “I was already in there. Those valves are big. We’ll be lucky if all three of you can close it.” He reached behind to pull the cattail plunger from its quiver and check the water level. It was full and ready to go. Acting as if he knew what he was doing, he started up the embankment.

  “Wait,” called Runnel. Searching through Ernie’s pouches, she found a milkweed pod and squished the milky fluid over his head to protect him from burns. Root squeezed his shoulder and tightened his belt, even though it didn’t really need tightening. Chop, smiling nervously, grabbed an acorn cap from one of his pouches. He reminded Ernie how to hold his thumbs in the shape of a V and showed him where to blow.

  They all knew that everything that had come before was in preparation for this moment. Ernie, looking each Puddlejumper in the eyes, suddenly realized this was his destiny. He offered a confident nod, but inside he felt only doubt.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Hagdemonia

  ALONE, ERNIE SCRAMBLED up the steep embankment. At the top of the rise, he looked back and saw three tiny figures running along the sewer pipe into the refinery. He silently wished them well. Waiting until the bridge sentry turned away, he darted across the road and slipped into a shallow ditch. He crawled on his belly through the muck to a giant slagheap. Slipping and sliding in the loose shale, he scurried to its summit and peeked below.

  Crews of shackled Puddlejumpers were pushing boxcars along the maze of guarded routes. All the roads led to the main artery that cut between the monster’s feet. There, the road forked in two directions. Boxcars heaped with coal went up the right leg, then across the waist and up the chest to the iron platform above the furnace mouth. The adjacent path running down the other side of the body was the return route for the empty boxcars.

  Ernie slid down the slagheap to the road and hid behind a full boxcar. He used the pilfered keys to unlock the shackles of a dozen astonished Jumpers. They pressed close as he whispered his plan.

  A frail Puddlejumper with a long white beard approached carrying a ladle and bucket. Since he was old and blind, the Troggs allowed him to roam the dusty roads providing water for thirsty prisoners. But he provided much more than water. Greystone was the one who encouraged the Puddlejumpers never to lose hope. He gently laid his hands on Ernie’s face. Despite all the years apart, the Ancient Guide knew exactly who he was.

  When the furnace belched another blast of flame, it was Greystone who whispered the monster’s name, “Hagdemonia,” the horrific matriarch of the Most Dark. His hand trembled as he felt for the Acorn under Ernie’s shirt. Reassured, Greystone took the jailer’s keys from Ernie’s hand, dropped them into his bucket, and hurried down the road, where he began to secretly unlock the shackles of the next crew.

  The Puddlejumpers boosted Ernie into their boxcar. He crouched in the coal as the inspired crew put shoulders to the car, determined to deliver their Rainmaker. Ernie peeked out from his hideaway. Up ahead, he could see patrolling Grunts and full boxcars moving slowly toward his final destination, the furnace mouth spewing flames. As his car threaded between Hagdemonia’s feet, his heart sank. At the fork in the road, Holsapple and Cobb were inspecting each car. Cobb’s tail snaked underneath, snuffling, while Holsapple jabbed his thorny staff through the loads of coal.

  Ernie burrowed into the coal just before the Troggs stopped his car. He could hear Cobb’s gravelly voice demanding to know his whereabouts. The Puddlejumpers were silent. The coal crunched as Holsapple thrust his staff from top to bottom, nearly impaling him. Ernie held his breath as the staff powered past his face. The next thrust cut the skin on his shoulder and he smothered a scream. The one after that would have killed him, but instead only dented the pocket watch strapped to his chest, knocking the wind out of him.

  Holsapple was about to thrust again when Hagdemonia’s piercing yowl rocked the Most Dark. Even though Ernie could barely breathe and the wound on his shoulder was throbbing, he silently cheered. They must have shut the valve.

  Aborting their search, the anxious Troggs hurried down the slope to the mammoth pipe feeding oil into her arm. They checked the gauge. The flow had stopped. Hagdemonia wailed again. Alarmed, Holsapple bolted toward the refinery.

  Finding themselves unguarded, the Puddlejumpers advanced Ernie’s boxcar onto the Hag’s ankle. But midway along her rocky shin, the front wheels caught in a rut. The crew frantically pushed and pulled to free the car.

  Buried in the coal, Ernie was jostled back and forth until a shrill bark brought everything to a stop. He smelled the stench of an approaching Trogg, then heard Cobb’s raspy voice. In the next second he felt a violent jolt as the car was yanked out of the rut. Coal dust shot up his nose. Feeling a terrible itch in both nostrils, he gripped his nose and squeezed tight.

  Cobb was walking away when he heard the tiny sneeze. He charged back and toppled the boxcar, spilling the Puddlejumper boy onto the path. Howling, the Trogg swiped his tail, but Ernie jumped it like a rope, then tumbled away. He reached into his belt for the acorn cap and whistled the alarm.

  High on the cliff, the prison doors flew open and Puddlejumpers, with Buck and Cully at the lead, flooded across the bridge armed with their tiny sledgehammers, picks, and shovels. Cobb gaped in shocked surprise as hundreds of freed prisoners charged toward him. Dozens more poured from the mines, and unshackled crews rallied up and down the maze of roads.

  Ignoring the Puddlejumper attack, Cobb stalked its leader with pounding strides. Ernie crabbed backward just ahead of the Trogg until he could scratch and claw his way up a crevice to the top of the Hag’s right foot. Deprived of her oil and coal, Hagdemonia began to shriek and writhe, triggering fiery geysers and violent tremors that rippled along the bedrock. Ernie clung to her toe to keep from falling. Cobb was climbing straight for him.

  Ernie thought he was trapped until Root and Runnel led a charge of refinery workers up Cobb’s backside. The Jumpers pounded the Trogg with hammers and wrenches. Unprepared for the onslaught, Cobb toppled backward, hitting the ground hard. Seizing the moment, Ernie skidded down the steep incline, bounced off the Trogg’s stomach, and darted up the path.

  Quicker than a hornet, the Jumper zigged and zagged through a plague of Red Grunts. At the crest of the Hag’s knee, the twin Troggs cut him off in a pincer attack from opposite sides. He hit the dirt, avoiding Axel’s tail swipe, but Angus pinned him with his heavy claw. Flat on his back, Ernie looked up at the two Troggs sweating and drooling in a swirling cloud of dust. Sure that it was over, he closed his eyes as Axel raised his foot,
preparing to bury him with a single stomp, when Buck and Cully shot like two cannonballs into the Trogg’s stomach, knocking him off balance. Axel’s foot crashed to the ground, just missing Ernie’s head. Before either twin could stomp again, the prison brigade swarmed. The Jumpers pelted and picked and smacked and hammered until Ernie could break free.

  Hagdemonia wailed and another tremor sent Ernie sprawling. He picked himself up and ran along the crest of her thighbone, never taking his eyes off the goal. He knew if he didn’t make it to the furnace mouth, the fight would be lost. No Russ. No rain. No nothing.

  The Puddlejumpers fought bravely up and down the Hag’s body, overwhelming the slow-footed Grunts with a tenacious attack. But the Troggs were too powerful. Swatting Jumpers away like gnats, Cobb and the twins pursued Ernie across the Hag’s blistered belly. They were about to catch him from behind when Chop’s crew, positioned atop her chest, launched boxcars down her rib cage. Ernie juked left and right as the cars sped past and crashed into the Troggs. One car tripped Axel and the next car smashed his face. Angus toppled into a bin that plowed down the slope into an oil pipe, rupturing it. But Cobb kept charging.

  Ernie sprinted toward the Ancient Guide commanding the last Puddlejumper defense. Shouting encouragement, “Tookla, tookla!” Greystone climbed into the interlocked hands of two scouts. With others propelling from behind, they launched him into the Trogg’s face. Gripping his snout, the old Jumper poked him in both eyes. Howling blindly, Cobb tried to snag him with his tail, but Greystone jammed a hunk of coal into its nostril. The tail ratcheted back and forth, trying to dislodge the embedded coal. Crazed, the Trogg swiped at the Jumper, but Greystone somersaulted to his shoulder, and Cobb clawed his own face. Every time the Trogg tried to squash him, the crafty old Jumper vanished with sleight-of-body to a new hiding place. Cobb swatted himself again and again, spinning madly. Other Jumpers spilled buckets of oil at the Trogg’s feet. Cobb slipped and slid in the toxic sludge, finally tumbling into the deep gorge of the Hag’s armpit.