He wondered, not for the first time, if Mr. Pockets had somehow asked the serpents to look out for them. Maybe it was all part of his “splendid conveyance.” Or maybe the glowing serpents really had overheard the talk about the Nothing and decided to help, as Morf had suggested. Whatever, if the huge creatures hadn’t been there to help, Arthur and Morf surely would have drowned.
It was there, right in the midst of the perilous rapids, that Arthur realized something quite profound, and indeed something that would soon prove very useful. What he realized was this: Everything alive was part of the Everything. And therefore everything alive had a very good reason to want to help him defeat the Nothing. Morf, the Frog People, Grog the Giant, the Cloud People, Mr. Pockets, the sea serpents—they all wanted him to succeed.
Everybody on REM World was rooting for him.
And that’s when Arthur started to believe that, with the help of others, he might actually be able to save the universe.
“Hey!” Morf was saying, trying to get his attention. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” asked Arthur, still basking in the comforting idea that he might actually survive.
“Listen!”
Arthur listened. And then he heard it. A sigh so large, and so loud, that it filled the air. It sounded like a stadium full of cheering people, but it wasn’t.
It was a waterfall. An enormous waterfall. And they were about to tumble over it and fall into the abyss below.
AHEAD OF THEM the rapids vanished into a cloud of mist created by the great waterfall, and the sigh became a roar as they were swept closer and closer to the edge.
“We don’t even have a paddle!” Arthur shouted.
He pawed at the water with his hands, but it was no use. They were going much too fast to slow down. He was about to shout at Morf to change into a bird and save himself, when suddenly a serpent’s giant head appeared right next to the barrel raft.
Carefully the serpent nudged the raft, pushing it toward the riverbank. Another serpent joined in the effort, and within a few moments the raft was bumping up against the shore.
Arthur and Morf scrambled out and hugged the dry ground as the raft was swept away.
“They saved us,” Arthur gasped, but when he turned around to thank them, the river serpents were gone. All he could see was their eerie glow retreating slowly into the mist.
“I’ve had enough of boats and rafts,” Morf said, shaking water from his fur. “Let’s stick to dry land from now on.”
“We didn’t have a choice, did we?”
“Oh, never mind.” Morf looked around. “So, here we are at the end of the world. It doesn’t look like much.”
It didn’t look like much because there wasn’t much to see. Just white mist rising from the falls, which were so close that the sound of cascading water made the air tremble.
“We have to get to the place called Beyond,” Arthur reminded Morf.
Carefully Arthur made his way along the riverbank to the edge of the waterfall. It was difficult to see through the thick, wet mist, but the falls went over a very steep cliff and plunged so far down that Arthur couldn’t make out the bottom. “Somehow we have to get down there.”
“Looks impossible.” Morf’s whiskers were glistening with waterfall dew.
“Yes, but it can’t be impossible. There has to be a way. We can’t give up now.”
This was very unlike Arthur. He’d had plenty of practice in giving up. Faced with a daunting task in class or gym, he’d said to himself, Why bother? But the “why bother” option didn’t exist in REM World. If Arthur gave up, the Nothing would keep rising, and when the last star faded from the sky, it would be Arthur’s fault.
“I wonder what’s behind the waterfall?” Arthur rubbed his damp chin thoughtfully.
“Behind the waterfall?” asked Morf. “Who ever heard of anything behind a waterfall?”
“We won’t know until we look.”
Very carefully Arthur edged his way over the cliff, blindly feeling for a foothold. Almost immediately his foot encountered something solid.
“Steps!” he said. “It feels like a stairway of some kind.”
“How very odd,” said Morf, sounding puzzled. “Do you think it’s safe?”
“Nothing is safe. But we don’t really have any other choice, do we?”
When they had both worked their way over the edge, they could make out steps carved into the wet stone. The ancient stairway curved steeply down, disappearing into the veil of mist behind the falls.
“We’re sure to get wet,” Morf grumbled. “And I hate to get wet.”
“Don’t be a doofus,” Arthur said. He inched his way down the slippery steps.
“What’s a doofus?”
“No time to explain. Hurry up! And be careful.”
“Now there’s a contradiction in terms,” Morf muttered to himself. But he hopped from step to step, following Arthur’s lead.
Soon the falls were thundering overhead, close enough for Arthur to reach out and touch. The steady stream of water had a hypnotic effect, and Arthur found he had to look away or it would make him dizzy. And dizzy is the last thing you want to be when you’re going down a slippery stone stairway behind an immense and powerful waterfall.
There was barely enough room for them to make their way down, step by careful step. Lean out too far, and the powerful waterfall would snatch them. Hugging the face of the cliff, Arthur slowly descended. Soon he was soaked, for the mist was as thick as rain, although wonderfully warm.
“I think these stairs go down forever,” Morf complained. “I’m completely wet, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I noticed. It can’t be much farther.”
But it was much farther. They continued down the narrow stone steps for what seemed like hours, never more than a few feet from the inside of the cascading water, which burbled and sighed like a living thing. Every muscle in Arthur’s body ached.
Then a strange and beautiful thing happened. Gradually it began to get lighter. Sunlight came through the waterfall, and Arthur thought he recognized the pale green of the sky, although he couldn’t be sure. But the prospect of eventually emerging into the light of day kept his spirits up, and it filled his heart with joy. Which was the strangest thing of all, because he knew that he was getting closer and closer to the place where the demon Vydel lived, and that was not a happy thought—not at all.
Finally the ancient stairway ended, and they found themselves on a narrow stone path that veered out from under the falls.
“Come on!” cried Arthur. “We’re almost there!”
Indeed they were. Within a few minutes they were clear of the falls, and Arthur found himself blinded by the brightness of the sky.
When his eyes adjusted, Arthur saw that they were in a lush garden. Giant ferns glittered with waterfall dew, and the smell was so clean and fresh, he drank in the air, filling his lungs.
“I’ve heard of this place,” Morf said quietly. “It’s called the Demon’s Garden. The legends say anyone who enters here is lost, and will never be seen again.”
“Forget those rotten old legends,” Arthur told him. “It’s lovely. And why would a demon have a garden, anyhow?”
But Morf was too busy shaking himself dry to respond.
“Look,” said Arthur. “The path goes on.”
As a matter of fact, the path did go on and on, curving here and there among the giant ferns and plants. The vegetation was like nothing Arthur had ever seen on Earth, not that he’d ever paid much attention to plants and flowers. Most of the blossoms were huge—bigger than pumpkins—and the fragrance was such that he no longer felt hungry, as if the air itself were good enough to eat.
They stopped to rest, and with a sigh Morf plopped down on a huge blue leaf. “Do you mind if I take a short nap?” he asked. “I’m exhausted.”
Without waiting for a reply, Morf curled up and purred himself to sleep. Arthur yawned—he wasn’t tired at all, so why was he yawning?�
�and in less than a minute, he, too, was fast asleep.
He slept so soundly that he didn’t hear the leaves begin to rustle, nor was he aware that they were not alone.
THE BUZZ WOKE HIM.
BZZZZZ. BZZZZZZ.
It sounded like a small airplane diving out of the pale green sky. The first thing Arthur did was slap at his ear, thinking that a mosquito was trapped there, and that’s why it sounded so loud.
But it wasn’t a mosquito. It was a bee. A huge bee. A bee the size of a small, flying attack dog. And it was circling over them in tight, furious circles, zooming so close that Arthur could feel its wings brushing against the top of his head.
“Help!” Arthur cried, trying to shield himself. “Help!”
He ran, crashing through dense foliage, desperate to get away. Arthur wasn’t fond of normal, everyday bees. A giant bee was enough to make his heart thud like an unbalanced washing machine.
BZZZZZZZ! BZZZZZZZZZ!
The huge bee seemed to be furious with the frightened boy, and it didn’t help that in Arthur’s haste to get away he’d smashed up some of the giant flower blossoms.
Morf had managed to hide himself under a large leaf. “Don’t move! Try to be still!”
“A giant bee is attacking me!” Arthur cried out. “How can you expect me to keep still?”
He continued to thrash through the dense foliage, trying to get away. But it was no use. Wherever he went, the giant bee followed. As Arthur trampled more and more flowers, the bee became more and more enraged.
Finally it stopped chasing him and began to execute an elaborate series of figure eights in the air above Arthur’s head.
“Oh no,” said Morf. “It’s signaling for reinforcements.”
“You mean there’s more than one of these things?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Almost immediately they heard the leaf-shaking drone of an approaching squadron of giant bees. The sky grew dark with angry insects. They dove and swooped, brandishing foot-long stingers, narrowly missing Arthur. He covered his head with his hands and tried to burrow into the foliage, but it was no use. No matter what he did, he couldn’t escape the bees.
Five or six of them worked together, using their stingers to slash the leaves just above his head. In another moment, he’d have no protection at all.
“Morf, change!” Arthur cried. “Fly away and save yourself!”
He cowered beneath the last leaf, waiting for the stingers to stab him to death. The droning noise changed, and suddenly something landed on his shoulder. Writhing in horror, Arthur looked up to see a giant bee.
The bee had Morf’s face.
Arthur was astonished. He’d expected Morf to change into a bird, not one of the deadly bees.
“Don’t worry,” said Morf, his voice buzzing strangely. “I’ve got a plan.”
And with that, he left Arthur’s shoulder and began to fly a series of elaborate loop-the-loops. The other bees stopped attacking and hovered. They watched Morf, who was using bee signals to communicate.
“NO DANGER,” he spelled out. “IGNORANT VISITOR MEANS NO HARM.”
The squadron of bees separated and flew to individual flower blossoms, as if waiting to see what would happen next.
“Stand up slowly,” Morf buzzed. “Tell them you’re sorry you disturbed their flowers.”
Arthur did as he was told. Apparently the bees understood, because after buzzing busily among themselves, and constructing all sorts of elaborate signals, the bees seemed to have arrived at a decision.
“Great,” buzzed Morf. “They’ve accepted your apology.”
One by one, the bees lifted from their blossoms and slowly flew off.
“They want us to follow them,” said Morf in his regular voice.
Between blinks of an eye, he’d changed back to his normal Morf-like self.
“Follow them where?” asked Arthur with some trepidation.
Morf shrugged. “Bee language isn’t all that specific,” he said. “All I know for sure is that they’ve been awaiting an important visitor. And they’ve decided it must be you.”
The bees kept a respectful distance, hovering almost but not quite out of sight. Meanwhile Arthur and Morf continued along the winding path. Eventually they passed out of the flower garden and entered a dense, junglelike forest.
“Do they have tigers in REM World?” Arthur whispered. This appeared to be an ideal place for them.
“Tigers? Hmmm. Nothing by that name.”
“Good,” said Arthur. He was somewhat relieved. Although the forest was very, very thick. And dark. And dangerous.
“No tigers. But of course there are many other savage beasts,” Morf said, musing. “Ripons, for instance. And greeps. And don’t forget zargas. A zarga will tear you to pieces in an instant. Zargas live in trees and drop down when you least expect it.” He looked up at the thick tree branches.
“Do you see one?” Arthur whispered anxiously.
“I’m not sure,” Morf said, squinting. “Probably not. Luckily, zargas hate bees.”
Arthur was grateful. The buzzy drone of rapidly moving wings was suddenly a comfort.
They pushed onward through the perpetual twilight of the ancient forest. “I wish I knew where we were going exactly,” Arthur said.
“Sometimes you have to keep going even if you don’t know where it will get you,” Morf told him.
“I suppose so.”
And so they tramped on for what seemed like half a day, until gradually the forest began to thin out and they could make out individual trees. Patches of soft moss covered the forest floor. The path petered out and finally vanished beneath the moss.
Far ahead, the giant bees continued to signal, THIS WAY, THIS WAY.
“I hope they know what they’re doing,” said Arthur, who was tired and sore and hungrier than he’d ever been.
“I think we’re almost there,” Morf said. “Wherever there is.”
There turned out to be a stand of immensely tall trees. Trees as big as California redwoods, and probably much, much older. Hundreds of giant bees hovered around the base of the enormous trees, dancing elaborate signals in the air. They became very excited as the two visitors approached, but somehow Arthur sensed they weren’t going to attack. Indeed, they seemed to be eagerly awaiting their arrival.
It wasn’t until he was almost at the base of the tallest tree that Arthur saw the object that had so excited the bees. In a place where several of the trees grew together, roots entwined, the bees had constructed a remarkable hive. The hive looked as if it had been made of thick papier-mâché, and it was as big as a good-sized house.
Bees flew in and out via a series of entrances and exits that looked like stubby chimneys. Now the bees danced and swirled above and around the hive, spelling out a signal that Morf translated as, “WELCOME VISITORS, OUR HIVE IS YOUR HIVE.”
“It’s a very nice hive,” Arthur said, trying to be polite. “But I hope they don’t want us to live there.”
The buzzing insects swirled into a formation for another signal.
“OUR HONEY IS YOUR HONEY,” Morf translated. He added, “I think they’re inviting us to eat.”
A squadron of bees tore at the side of the hive, creating what at first appeared to be a window into their house. Almost immediately the air filled with a rich, sweet scent, and Arthur found himself drawn to the window as if by invisible strings.
Already the rich, amber-colored honey was beginning to ooze from the opening. The bees kept a respectful distance, but their incessant buzzing urged him to eat.
EAT AND BE STRONG, the bees signaled.
Arthur was so hungry, he’d actually been considering eating moss from the forest floor, so he didn’t need a second invitation to try the honey. He scooped out a glob and licked it from his finger. Almost immediately his whole body trembled with relief. The honey was more than delicious; it was rich in nutrients, vitamins, and the mysterious essence of flower blossoms.
“Not bad
,” said Morf, licking his paw. “Not bad at all.”
But Arthur was too busy eating the honey to reply. He filled his hands with the sticky stuff, and he let it roll down his throat. The honey was cool and warm at the same time, and the taste of it reverberated from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. The honey made his blood sparkle with energy and his brain hum with intelligence. It gave him strength and revived his courage.
Strangely enough, although he ate handfuls of the stuff, the honey didn’t make him feel bloated or full. It was as if the honey somehow entered directly into his body, into his muscles and blood and bones, without having to pass through his stomach.
Eventually he wasn’t hungry anymore, and he carefully licked his hands clean.
“What a revolting mess,” Morf was saying. “I’ve somehow got honey on my tail.”
While Morf groomed himself, Arthur sat down on the mossy floor of the forest and looked up at the enormously tall trees. Their tops were so high, they could barely be seen. But among the faint blur of distant leaves was a patch of sunlight, and the sunlight beamed all the way down through the trees and leaves and branches and bathed Arthur with its warmth.
For the first time since he’d said good-bye to the Cloud People, Arthur felt real hope. The hope that if he kept trying he would somehow achieve his goal, and the bees and the trees and the sky would continue to exist.
I must succeed, Arthur said to himself quite fiercely. Everyone is counting on me.
Suddenly the ground began to shake violently. The tall trees swayed, a wind blew up, and the bees became even more excited.
“What’s that?” Arthur exclaimed in alarm.
Morf stopped licking his honey-soaked tail and looked up. “Sounds like a giant waking up,” he said with a shrug. “Either that, or the world is already ending.”
WHEN THE TREES BEGAN to uproot themselves and crash to the ground, Arthur and Morf had no choice but to flee the forest. As they ran, more and more of the trees toppled over. The wind increased in velocity, stinging Arthur’s eyes with bits of fine dirt.
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