by Ann Hood
“Where are you taking me?” Maisie asked him.
He glanced down at her, gave her a smug look, then just kept walking.
As he made his way along the hippo tracks, Felix kept the gorilla in his sights. It seemed like he had been walking forever. His legs ached from gripping the slippery ground so hard for so long. He was sweatier than he’d ever been in his whole life. And he wanted nothing more than a big glass of cold water back in the kitchen at Elm Medona.
Ahead on the path, Felix saw a big branch blocking his way.
Great, he thought miserably. Just great.
Now he was going to have to lug that thing into the brush, and maybe lose Maisie and the silverback.
With a sigh, he bent to try and pick it up. And just as he did, the branch moved.
Felix gaped at the thing.
It wasn’t moving really. It was . . . slithering.
Felix took a step backward.
He was inches away from an enormous snake! So enormous that he couldn’t even see its head, just what seemed in that moment like miles and miles of snake, slithering across the path.
His mind began to list all the kinds of snakes he knew lived in Africa: black mambas and boomslangs and wasn’t there something called a puff adder that was the most poisonous snake in the world? Back in third grade, Maisie had written a report on deadly snakes and she’d given him nightmares by describing just how venomous certain ones were. Her favorite one was the boomslang, whose venom affected your blood’s ability to clot. It could take hours for the symptoms to appear, and then you bled to death from every orifice. Felix shivered despite the heat.
The snake in front of him was the color of the ground, spotted tan and white. He closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on the pictures in Maisie’s report. The boomslang, he remembered with relief, was green. Bright green. But his relief disappeared when he remembered that black mambas weren’t actually black. Felix took several more steps backward. If a black mamba encountered prey, Felix knew it would strike as many as twelve times. He could almost hear Maisie telling him how each bite delivered enough cardio- and neurotoxic venom to kill a dozen men within one hour. Isn’t that cool? she’d told him before shutting off the light and going to sleep, leaving Felix alone in the dark to contemplate all the terrible snakes out in the world. Like the one right in front of him. Without antivenom, he thought, the mortality rate for a black mamba’s bite was 100 percent.
There were all kinds of vipers, too, he suddenly recalled with a sickening feeling. And cobras. And puff adders, he reminded himself. They could kill a grown man with just one bite. And Felix wasn’t a grown man; he was just a twelve-year-old kid. How fast would a puff adder’s venom kill a twelve-year-old kid?
Felix squinted at the snake. It was hard to make out against the ground because it blended in so well. The puff adder had such good camouflage, Felix knew, that people often stepped on it. The picture from Maisie’s report popped into his mind. Felix took a deep breath and then another, trying to calm himself. Because he was certain that snake in front of him was indeed a puff adder. By now, it was almost all the way across the path. But wouldn’t it hide in the brush there and get him when he passed by? Some of the snakes were aggressive, and others only bit when provoked. Felix was too scared to sort out their personalities right now. Besides, how did he know what provoked a snake? Why, he could be provoking it just by staring at it.
He watched as the last of the snake disappeared. But even with it off the path, he was too scared to continue. Instead, he stood paralyzed in the hippo tracks. When he looked away from where the snake had been, Felix realized that Maisie and the silverback were nowhere in sight.
With surprising gentleness, the gorilla put Maisie down and walked away.
Maisie sighed. In no time, Felix would get here and the two of them would figure out what to do next. They would find the Ziff twins and Dr. Livingstone and maybe even Amy Pickworth. They would give the map of the Nile to Dr. Livingstone and explain themselves to Amy Pickworth and then they would go home, safe and sound, just like they always did. Until then, she just had to wait.
She would sit on that big boulder over there and do just that, she decided. She would wait and not worry because somehow things always worked out. The boulder was covered with a fine red dust. When Maisie swept her hand across the rock to brush it off, the dust took off in every direction. She jerked her hand back and peered at the tiny red dots spreading across the boulder.
Fire ants!
“Yuck!” Maisie said, shaking her hand in case even one tiny ant was still on it.
Well, she decided, she would just stand up and wait for Felix then. She fixed her eyes in the direction from which she’d come, expecting to glimpse him at any minute.
Maisie waited and waited, but no Felix.
She tried not to think about him getting eaten by a lion, bitten by a snake, or charged by a hippopotamus.
At one point, she even called his name, extra loud. But she didn’t even hear her own echo in response.
A watched pot never boils, her mother had told Maisie too many times. But maybe she was right. If Maisie looked away, Felix would most definitely show up. After all, she thought as she swung her gaze in the opposite direction, she’d been down that same path and hadn’t seen any lions or snakes or hippos or anything dangerous. He was just being his usual slowpoke self.
Even though the gorilla had carried her far, the jungle here looked exactly like where they’d been. Trees thick with foliage that formed a canopy of leaves above her. Branches and vines everywhere. Some dark shapes in the distance, probably even more trees.
Maisie stared harder.
Those dark shapes were moving.
Toward her.
These dark shapes were also gorillas, she realized, recognizing their distinctive swaying arms and purposeful strides. At least a dozen gorillas. And they were walking right toward her, the silverback in the lead.
Felix waited until he thought ten minutes had gone by, then he waited for what he thought was another ten minutes, then another ten, before he finally ran down the path. When he reached the place where the snake had been, he held his breath, ready for those giant fangs to dig into his leg at any second. He was well past that spot before he finally exhaled and slowed down.
But there was no time to relax. As soon as he realized he hadn’t been bitten by a poisonous puff adder, he immediately began to worry over how he would ever find Maisie. If that gorilla had gone in a straight line, there was some hope. But if he turned left or right . . . well, then he could be anywhere, and so could Maisie. Even if they did move in this direction, Felix had no way of knowing if the gorilla had hurt Maisie. He could have crushed her or thrown her down or just about anything. Felix realized he was holding his breath again, and he forced himself to breathe out and then in, nice and slow, the way his mother always told him to do when he was frightened.
It felt to Felix like he’d walked forever when he finally saw fourteen gorillas up ahead standing in circle.
Felix stopped.
Now what should he do?
The gorillas looked busy. They chattered and pushed at one another, from enormous ones to three babies, all of them focused on something in the middle.
Two of the bigger gorillas stepped back from the circle, and Felix saw clearly what they were so interested in: Maisie.
He opened his mouth to shout, but then thought better of it. What would happen if he startled so many gorillas?
Most of the gorillas were just watching Maisie, their faces filled with curiosity. But two of them were poking her with their gnarly gorilla fingers, and sniffing her. Maisie stood perfectly still.
Suddenly, one of the biggest gorillas screamed and pounded his chest and ran, fast. The others paused only briefly. They lifted their faces and inhaled. Felix watched as they went from gentle curiosity to fear
. In an instant, they all screamed and pounded their chests and scattered.
Maisie’s shoulders slumped with relief.
“Maisie!” Felix called, running as fast as he could toward her. “I’m here!”
When Maisie saw Felix, she burst into tears, letting herself get folded into his skinny-armed hug.
Maisie and Felix stayed like that, hugging and crying—Felix had started, too—for quite a while, the two of them sticky with sweat and tears and oppressive heat.
Finally, they calmed down and pulled apart, both of them talking at once:
“Puff adder!”
“Silverback!”
“Paralyzed!”
“Paralyzed!”
“Slithering!”
“Gorillas!”
Maisie and Felix fell silent.
“Ziff twins,” Felix said.
“Uh-oh,” Maisie said.
Again, they fell silent. Around them, birds cawed and leaves rustled.
“If we say . . . you know . . . we’ll get out of here,” Maisie said finally.
“Well, out of the jungle,” he reasoned. “But not out of Africa.”
“Right,” Maisie said, disappointed. All lame demon would do is move them forward in time, not in place.
“If only we had another object,” she said, thinking out loud. “Then we could go somewhere nice and safe. And cool,” she added, wiping the sweat off her forehead for about the millionth time.
Next time, she decided, they would take an object that would bring them to Alaska. Maisie imagined snow and ice and cute husky dogs.
“We can’t leave them here,” Felix reminded Maisie.
“Well, we can’t leave at all,” she said.
Felix looked at her guiltily.
“Wait,” Maisie said. “We can leave?”
Felix nodded solemnly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the airplane compass.
“What is that?” Maisie asked.
“It’s part of an airplane,” Felix said. “An old-fashioned airplane. Like the Spirit of St. Louis.”
“The spirit of what?” Maisie asked, keeping her eye on the compass.
“Lucky Lindy’s plane,” Felix explained.
When Maisie still looked confused, he added, “The plane Charles Lindbergh flew solo across the Atlantic.”
Finally, Maisie looked at her brother, her face washed with determination.
“You mean we can get out of here and go to—”
“Little Falls, Minnesota,” Felix said. “At least, that’s what I’m guessing. He was born in Detroit, but his father was a congressman from Minnesota until 1917—”
“How do you know so much about this Lindbergh fellow?”
“I decided to do my aviation report on him,” Felix said sheepishly. “I took a few notes.”
Of course Felix already started that dumb report, Maisie thought.
“The way I see it,” Felix continued, “if we say, you know”—he lowered his voice, as if Phinneas Pickworth himself might hear—“lame demon . . . then we’re just going to go somewhere else here in Africa. But if we use this, we’ll get out of here and be nice and safe in Minnesota.”
Maisie nodded, considering this escape plan.
“Without the Ziff twins,” she said evenly.
“Without the Ziff twins.”
Maisie thought some more.
“I don’t have the map for Dr. Livingstone,” she said finally. “Do you?”
Felix shook his head. “I only have this,” he said, holding up the compass.
“So, technically, we wouldn’t be abandoning the Ziff twins,” Maisie said. “Because one of them must have the map.”
“Yes, but—”
“Amy Pickworth is their great-great-grandmother, right? They should be the ones to find her.”
“I don’t know, Maisie. What if—”
“They’ll find her and give Dr. Livingstone the map and have a great adventure,” Maisie said with a finality that concerned Felix.
“I really don’t think we should leave them here. Snakes and gorillas and tsetse flies and hippos—”
Maisie held up her hand to shush him.
“No, Maisie,” Felix persisted. “We have to think this through—”
“Sssshhh!”
Felix followed her gaze to some distant point.
“Is it them?” he asked eagerly. “Do you see Hadley and Rayne?”
Maisie’s eyes widened. Her mouth opened as if she might speak, but no words came out. Instead, she lifted one quivering finger and pointed.
At first, Felix didn’t see anything. But even so, he’d quickly learned here in the jungle just how good camouflage was. That snake had blended right in with the path he’d been walking on. He knew that if he looked hard enough, something would emerge up ahead.
No sooner did Felix have that thought, then the foliage seemed to move.
He blinked.
Indeed, he could make out a shape now.
Felix gulped.
“Maisie?” he whispered. “Is that a—”
Maisie nodded.
When she spoke, her voice came out hoarse and raspy.
“A lion,” she managed.
Now Felix could clearly see the lion’s tawny fur, its long, hard muscles.
And the lion could see him, too. It stopped and lifted its nose to the air.
Maisie and Felix held their breath.
The lion opened its mouth, revealing large yellow fangs, and let loose the loudest, scariest roar either of them could ever have imagined.
Maisie grabbed Felix’s hand just as the lion lowered its head, set its golden eyes right at them, and pounced.
CHAPTER 6
THE LOUISIANA PURCHASE EXPOSITION
Felix squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for those fangs to rip into his flesh.
Instead, he felt himself being lifted off the ground, up, up, up. The wind blew as he somersaulted and the smells of all those now familiar things, like Christmas trees and cinnamon, surrounded him.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Maisie’s grinning face tumble past him.
Then: nothing.
Until they dropped.
At first, Maisie saw nothing but smoke. She coughed and rubbed her eyes, wrinkling her nose at the smoke and other strange odors that filled the air. Instinctively, her hand went to the thread around her neck.
The shard was gone!
Panicked, Maisie’s fingers fumbled with the thread. In the tumble it had come undone and the shard had slid off. Maisie looked all around. But the shard was nowhere to be found. How would they get back without it?
The smell of meat cooking filled Maisie’s nose, distracting her. She had to squint through smoke to see anything at all. For a moment, she thought they had somehow landed back in Hawaii at the birth of Liliuokalani. She saw thatched huts and people who, with their black hair, bare chests, and loincloths, looked very much like the native Hawaiians she’d met then. They stood around a fire where a small animal was being cooked in a deep pit, talking in the strangest language she’d ever heard. Instead of the lilting syllables of Hawaiian, these people spoke in a series of rhythmic, rapid clicks.
One thing was for certain: This wasn’t Minnesota. Or Hawaii, Maisie decided as she studied the faces of the people around the fire. The language was different, and their faces had a different shape than the native Hawaiians. No one noticed her. They were too eager for their dinner. To Maisie, that dinner looked very much like . . . She waved her hand to clear some of the pungent smoke clouding her vision. Her stomach rolled. That dinner seemed to be a dog, she realized. The smell of that meat and all of the smoke choked her and before she could stop herself, she threw up.
As soon as she did, everyone stopped clicking and turned toward Maisie, who
had dropped to her knees and was now clutching her stomach and throwing up again. She gulped for air, trying to settle her stomach. Something caught her eye. Something white with a small blue flower on it.
The shard!
Phew! Maisie thought as she scooped it up and carefully slid it back on the thread, making sure to triple-knot it this time.
From one of the huts, a woman ran out. She wore a white cotton blouse over a sarong and a heavy, intricately beaded necklace. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head. Maisie couldn’t tell if the woman was angry or worried, but her face was creased with some emotion.
“How did you get inside?” the woman said in perfect English as she kneeled beside Maisie.
Still nauseated, Maisie just shrugged.
The woman offered Maisie cold water from a small cup made out of a coconut shell. Maisie sipped it gratefully.
“Are the people already lined up?” the woman asked her.
Maisie tried to make sense of what she was being asked, but couldn’t.
“Where am I?” Maisie asked the woman.
The woman smiled. “Ah! You don’t even know which exhibit this is, do you?”
Exhibit? Maisie thought, but before she could say anything, the woman continued.
“This is the Philippine village,” she said as if that explained everything. “We are the Igorots.”
“Uh-huh,” Maisie said, struggling to make sense of this new information.
“Are your parents outside?”
“Yes,” Maisie said. After all, her parents were outside. Whatever “outside” meant.
The woman patted Maisie’s arm. “It is easy to get lost, isn’t it?”
“Oh yes,” Maisie agreed.
From the distance, Maisie heard Felix shout: “There she is!”
At the sound of her brother’s voice, Maisie felt immediately better.
“This is my brother,” she told the woman, who had turned toward Felix’s voice.