by Lin Oliver
As I sat there on the ground, thousands of miles away from any reality I knew, I became overwhelmed with anxiety. What if my sound-bending power shut down again and I couldn’t locate the mask? What would Crane do to me down here in the jungle in the middle of nowhere? I didn’t have Trevor or Jeremy to help me. I didn’t have anyone I could really be honest with … not even Hollis. I wished I could tell him that I had Dad’s travel journal, that we were really here so Crane would fund a fact-finding mission to Antarctica. I wanted to tell him that I hoped our parents were still alive somewhere, maybe involved in some complicated plot, just hiding out and counting the moments until they could come back and make everything okay again. But I couldn’t say any of that. The last thing I would ever do was set Hollis up for another disappointment.
I’d told Trevor in my letter that I’d have to find that mask alone, but as I sat around the campfire with that awkward group, it finally occurred to me how alone I actually was.
“You don’t look well, Leo,” Crane noticed. “I’m surprised, a robust boy like yourself. Apparently the outdoors doesn’t agree with you.”
“I’m just really tired,” I lied. “Must be the jet lag. I think I’m going to turn in. You coming, Hollis?”
We left the campfire and went to our tent. Inside, it was definitely deluxe, with two foam beds complete with soft blankets and mosquito nets. There were filled water bottles by the beds, an emergency air horn that I almost couldn’t resist trying out, toilet paper for late night excursions into the jungle, and even flip-flops. But our tent was nothing compared to Crane’s — his was twice the size of everyone else’s, and I bet Hollis dreamed of all the adventure luxuries he believed were inside.
We flopped down, and I listened to Hollis try to learn the sape, his rain-forest guitar, while I picked up Borneo: Her Customs and People, to read myself to sleep. Of course it was really Marie Rathbone’s book, The Immortal Underground, and it was boring beyond belief — lots of complicated theories about erratic boulder layers and ice ages, lots more about methane burps and carbonization, magnetic fields and sunspots, which the person who had underlined it all seemed especially interested in. I fell asleep holding the book in my hands.
We broke camp and were on the river before sunrise. Hollis had woken up at some insane hour to pee, and sleepwalking outside without his flip-flops, he noticed a ticklish sensation on his leg and looked down to see a humongous centipede had made its way up his shin almost all the way to his knee. He came back shaken and agitated, and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, scratching itches, swatting bugs, and generally freaking himself out. When Tamon Dong woke us up an hour before sunrise, Hollis was rotten to him and snappy at me.
“I should never have let you talk me into this crazy trip,” he said, and glared at me as we got ready for the day.
Crane was also the worse for wear. His eyes were bloodshot and he even sported some patchy stubble. Seeing him less than perfectly groomed made me incredibly uncomfortable. After screaming at one of the porters and blaming him for stubbing his toe, Crane pulled me aside to a bluff overlooking the river.
“That was a clever trick you pulled yesterday, Leo. Very clever.”
“I wasn’t trying to trick anyone.”
“Oh really? It was just accidental that you invited the saintly Dr. Reed and her lovely daughter along? I can be quite accommodating, Leo. I’m a man who knows how to do a favor if asked. But this is my expedition, and therefore my approval is needed before even the slightest deviation from my mission is considered.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it, Crane. Diana’s a friend from school, and I just wanted to do her a favor.”
“You’d do well, Leo, to keep your mind off girls and your eye on the prize. We have a partnership, and there isn’t room for anyone else in this deal. Understood?”
I nodded.
“I’ve got my eye on you, Leo. Now I hope you won’t mention anything to anyone about our true mission. I don’t trust that Reed woman. For all I know, she’s after the same mask we are.”
“She’s an anthropologist, Crane. She doesn’t sell that stuff, she studies it.”
“First rule of business, Leo. Trust nobody.”
Back on the boats after breakfast, we continued up the river, sometimes going hours without spotting any signs of human life. By midday, we entered a more mountainous stretch, the jungle on either side of us rising high and steep into the steam and the clouds, little green patches peeking out here and there. I spent my time making recordings of Hollis’s drumming, but when I listened back to it, found that the engine grinding swallowed up most of his music. Sometimes I’d watch the other boats to see if anyone was watching me. I caught Dmitri four times, Mr. Singh twice, and I think I also caught Diana once, though I can’t be certain.
“Hey, Leo, look at this,” Hollis said to me in midafternoon. He stuck his leg out and pointed to a swollen red lump just below his knee. “What do you think that is?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Looks like a mosquito bite.”
“But it itches like crazy. I’ve been putting river water on it all morning to try to get it to stop itching.”
“Why would you do that, chief?” I asked, frowning at the brownish murky water. “There could be parasites in the river.”
“Parasites?”
“Forget it, Hollis. Listen, I’m sure it’s just a mosquito bite, but if it’s still bothering you, we can get Dr. Reed to look at it when we pull in.”
“She’s not that kind of doctor, Leo. Even I know that.”
“It’ll be fine, chief. Why don’t you work on your nose-fluting. Your drumming is starting to put me in a trance.”
“This trip sucks, Leo,” he said with a worried tone, then started squeaking out some nose flute. I was just trying to get his mind off that bite — honestly, it didn’t look too great.
When we pulled in for the night, the bite had gotten even more red and swollen, and Hollis claimed he was feeling nauseous. Between the chorus of croaking frogs and Hollis’s worried face, I was feeling pretty nauseous, too. Just short of a full panic, I raced around the camp until I found Dr. Reed, rocking leisurely in her hammock and reading.
“Um … Dr. Reed?”
Before the nervous words were even out of my mouth, Dr. Reed sat up, took off her glasses, and hunched toward me, the way that all moms seem to do automatically when a kid needs help. “Leo, what’s wrong, honey?”
“I don’t want to bother you, but Hollis has this weird bite, and I was wondering if you could —”
“Of course, Leo. Bring him right over.”
I brought Hollis to her. Dr. Reed smiled at him, rubbed his shoulder, and sat him up in the hammock. “Now let’s take a look, shall we?”
“I think this centipede bit me last night,” he explained while she looked at his leg. “It crawled all over me. It was as long as my leg. They’re not poisonous, are they? Leo doesn’t think so, but I’m not so sure because my stomach is feeling really twitchy and sick.”
“All centipedes are venomous, Hollis,” she said as she pressed the areas around the bump. “But unless you have bad allergies, their bites aren’t usually dangerous.”
“It itches like crazy, and I was putting river water on it all morning until Leo told me to stop because there are parasites in the water, so maybe I’ve got a weird jungle disease or something.”
“Nope,” she said, patting his leg and standing up. “It’s just a mosquito bite. It’s swollen and inflamed because you’ve been scratching it. And your stomach hurts because you’ve been worrying about it all day!”
“So it’s not dangerous?” Hollis asked.
“Not as long as you’re taking your malaria medication. Malaria is carried by mosquitoes,” she said, slapping one on her neck. “And they love the warm water here, and sweet boys. That’s why we take the pills.”
Hollis and I looked at each other blankly.
“Your uncle didn’t get you the antimalari
al pills,” she said, more of a statement than a question. Dr. Reed could tell we knew nothing about any pills. “And I assume he didn’t take you to a travel doctor, either. Outrageous.”
In a huff, she marched across camp to Crane, who was lounging in a chair while Klevko fanned him with palm leaves. He wore a large sun hat, with a thick mosquito net covering his face. She got right in his business, the volume of her voice causing all the porters to momentarily stop their work and watch the scene.
“What makes you think you can care for these children?” she yelled. “How does a responsible adult bring them into the jungle without antimalarial tablets? Please explain, Crane.”
“We left in a hurry,” Crane said quietly. “There wasn’t enough time. No need for an inquisition, Margaret. I’ve traveled in countless remote places, and I am malaria free.”
“Then you’re lucky,” she huffed, her hands on her hips. “What if they’re not so lucky? I’d ask you if you want that on your conscience, but you haven’t any conscience.”
“No?” Crane said, shooing Klevko away and baring his teeth ever so slightly.
“You’re exposing them to undue risk, Crane. Foreigners die from malaria out here. Do you know that? Do you?”
I glanced back at Hollis, all alone and unmoving in the middle of the bustling campsite, watching the whole thing from a distance. He had his hand on his belly and a look of sheer terror on his face, as if he’d just eaten some tainted meat.
“No need to get hysterical, Margaret,” Crane hissed from behind his mosquito-net hat. “The boys are under my care. I’ll see to their health and safety, thank you very much. Now why don’t you go back to your hammock and do some deep breathing. You’re clearly unhinged.”
Dr. Reed shook her finger at him and opened her mouth, but then thought better of it. Instead she took both me and Hollis back to her area and rummaged around in her duffel bag until she produced a bottle of pills.
“Take one of these every day,” she said. “They might make you feel a little weird or give you nightmares, but that’s perfectly normal. Most importantly, they’ll protect you both in case you’re bitten by an infected mosquito.”
“Don’t you and Diana need them?” I asked, suddenly aware that I hadn’t seen Diana since we’d pulled ashore.
“Oh no, Leo. I always bring two bottles in case I lose one.”
“But what if it’s t-too late?” Hollis stammered. “What if I already have it?”
“It’s very unlikely, Hollis,” she said, pushing the hair out of his eyes. “So stay positive, drink lots of fluids, and make sure you apply bug spray generously.”
He nodded, but we cold both see his lower lip trembling. Dr. Reed tousled his hair again, reached out, and pulled him in tight. He nuzzled his face into her shirt like a little puppy.
“You poor thing,” she said softly, rocking him. “I know this all seems so scary. The big bad jungle. But everything’s going to be just fine.”
“Want me to get your nose flute, chief?” I asked him. “I’ll bring them both and we can play them. A concerto for four nostrils.”
“This isn’t funny, Leo,” he said.
He was right. Malaria wasn’t funny. Getting sick deep in the jungle, miles from anywhere, wasn’t funny. Risking my brother’s life for a stupid deal with Crane wasn’t funny. Not at all.
Seeing Hollis in such a sorry state, I slunk away. I didn’t want to see any more of this. And I didn’t want to be there when Dr. Reed turned her attention to me, and asked what we were really doing in Borneo. I wanted to just get inside my tent and bury my head in the pillow.
“Hey, Leo,” I heard as I crossed the campsite. I looked around and saw Diana trotting over to me with a few wildflowers in her hand. “I think I lost him.”
“You mean the small creepy one?”
She laughed. “Yeah, Dmitri keeps following me around, flexing his muscles and staring at me with his beady little eyes. It’s the grossest thing ever.”
“Stick with me,” I said, trying to match her energy. “I’ll protect you.”
“Hey, some of the porters were telling me about Hollis,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’ve been coming here for years, and I’ve only seen two people get malaria.”
“Yeah, but he’s pretty freaked.”
“Maybe I’ll go cheer him up.”
Diana was doing a pretty good job cheering me up. I smiled at her and we made eye contact, but almost immediately, a shudder flashed across her face and she sighed loudly, dropping the flowers.
“Hey, babe.”
I spun around and there he was in his tank top, showing off his arm muscles.
“Dmitri, stop following Diana around everywhere. She doesn’t like it.”
“That’s what she says,” he smirked. Then his expression changed, and he was dead serious. “But I didn’t come just so she could admire my six-pack. Crane sent me to get you.”
“Why? What does he want?”
“He wants you to come to his tent.”
“Okay, Dmitri,” I said, glancing at Diana. “Tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Dmitri looked down at the Swiss Army knife on his belt and shook his head.
“Now, Leo. Mr. Crane said now.”
And before I could argue with him, he had his hand clasped firmly on my shoulder and was pushing me in the direction of Crane’s tent.
Crane’s tent was huge. Inside, it was uncomfortably warm, with a plush red rug on the floor, a double bed to one side, and two chairs to the other. Mr. Singh sat in a canvas folding chair, his chin in his hands and his legs crossed. Crane was in the other chair, wrapped in a bathrobe, with Klevko applying a thick mint-colored cream to his face and head. From what I could see, Crane’s skin was all splotchy, and his gray stubble made my skin crawl. The cream didn’t smell too fresh, either. I looked away from him and noticed the Siamese twin mask hanging from a piece of twine from the ceiling.
Crane must have noticed my disgust, because he quickly adjusted his bathrobe and ordered Klevko to put the greenish cream away.
“I apologize for my ghastly appearance,” he said. “I have very sensitive skin. Too much exposure to the elements is painful and causes me to break out in these hideous rashes. The chums at school used to mock me mercilessly. Thank goodness I had Mother to help me understand that they were fools and simpletons. I’m sure you did not know about my condition, Leo?”
Before I could answer, he continued.
“Of course you didn’t. It’s a deeply private matter, certainly not one that Dr. Reed needs to know about. That bombastic woman puts her nose where it doesn’t belong. There are too many opinions here, and too many eyes. I’m unhappy about it. I must be in a position to dictate what happens on this expedition.”
Mr. Singh leaned over and whispered something in Crane’s ear. “Yes, I’m getting to that, Mr. Singh. Now, Leo, we are nearing the point of no return in our expedition. I hope, for your sake, that you are still firmly committed to our partnership. You know what will happen if you break my trust, right?”
“All bets are off,” I said.
“Indeed. I doubt whether Hollis would like his dear brother shipped off to Luxemburg to continue his schooling. No, I assure you, he wouldn’t. Nor would you like to lose your fact-finding mission to Antarctica, which I believe will prove most illuminating.”
“What do you know, Crane?” I demanded. “If you know something about my parents, you have to tell me.”
“I know nothing definite, Leo, only what I hear from my contacts. Rumors and speculation, certainly, but even I am beginning to doubt the official story. Rumors often harbor a seed of truth, like this mask here.” He gazed up at the dangling twin mask with a faraway look in his eyes. “I believe there is more to it than meets the eye. Much, much more.”
As he gazed dreamily up at the mask and stroked his smooth chest, it dawned on me that Crane couldn’t split up Hollis and me — I had a signed contract saying so. But now Crane was modifying the co
ntract. He was so sneaky about it that my neck got hot with anger, and my hands tightened into fists.
“Crane,” I growled through closed teeth. “You promised that I could go back to school with Hollis!”
“I keep my promises, Leo. As long as you keep yours. Keep the thought of Luxemburg very close to your heart. Now leave me to recover, and find the source of that earsplitting racket outside. Tell whoever is making it to cease and desist immediately.”
Crane leaned back in his chair, staring up at the dangling mask, its eyes as dark as night, its teeth as sharp as fear.
As I left the tent, I heard Crane barking, “Klevko, my ointment!”
Outside, night had fallen, and most everyone was gathered around the fire. Music filled the air. Crane’s driver, Lim Sum, was playing a perfect groove on the gedang drum while Hollis played his nose flute. Most of the worry had disappeared from his face, and he was absorbed in his music. Like always, making music had soothed him.
The porters were grilling river fish over the open fire, stamping their feet and clapping along to the beat. Diana and Dr. Reed were reclining on the ground, smiling and urging Hollis on. It all sounded so good that I joined them, pulled out my H4n, and played some of my recorded frog noises under the music. It sounded awesome.
“The frog is back!” Hollis said, then pulled off some crazy trilling runs on the nose flute. It was just a tiny little toy, but he made that thing sing.
Egged on by my success, I grabbed the frog gong and the mallet, held it up high, and smashed the life out of it. The metallic clash boomed like thunder and drowned out the rest of the music. When the clash faded away, no one was playing anymore.
“Guess I killed the music,” I said to everyone’s stares. “Sorry.”
“That’s cool, bro,” Hollis said. “First rule of performing: Always keep them wanting more. Where were you?”