by B. A. Frade
Yeah. That rock. As if I wasn’t feeling guilty enough already, now it seemed I had to add “Responsible for waking the slumbering beast by hitting it in the head with a rock” to the list.
This flashed through my brain in the split second I glanced at the monster before slinging on my backpack and barreling off into the forest. Too afraid to turn on the flashlight, I ran blindly, arms outstretched in the hopes that I’d feel the trees with my hands before hitting them with my face. Somehow, though, my hands missed Jenna, so I ended up tackling her to the ground.
“Aidan? Oh, thank goodness! Now get off me!”
I hopped up, embarrassed by our close contact (but not too upset). She stood, grabbed my hand (that didn’t upset me either), and pulled me behind a boulder. Liv, Josh, and Snort were already crouched there. Liv was clutching her soccer ball, the only thing she’d taken with her from the tent.
“Where were you?” she hissed.
I thought she was angry and was about to say something snide, like how glad I was her soccer ball meant more to her than me, when she shoved her ball at Josh, threw her arms around me, and hugged me tight. “You stupid idiot, I thought…” She muffled the rest on my shoulder.
I whispered, “I’m okay,” and squeezed her back. Snort nosed herself between us for a group hug, making us all laugh.
“Right,” I said. “Enough of that.” I gave them a brief description of the ghastly beast—very brief, because I saw that was enough to freak them out. And to be honest, remembering that slime-ridden colossus wasn’t doing much for me either. Then I took off my backpack and pulled out Tales from the Scaremaster.
Josh sucked in a sharp breath. “What did you bring that for?”
I explained my reasoning—that we were better off with the Scaremaster than without. “We wouldn’t have been ready to take off just now if he—it—whatever—hadn’t warned us the swamp beast was coming,” I reminded them when they looked skeptical. “And remember that bit about having to finish it, or it would never end?” I held up the book. “We wouldn’t be able to finish the story without the story.”
“And this other stuff?” Jenna asked, poking inside my backpack. “Your pranking gear?”
I shrugged. “Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it,” I said, quoting my father’s favorite saying.
“That makes sense,” Liv said, “about needing the book to finish the story, I mean, and getting info from the Scaremaster. The pranking stuff I could have done without.” She looked at me. “Do we have time to see if the Scaremaster wrote more?”
“I think so,” I replied slowly. “The swamp beast seemed pretty occupied with eating our marshmallow sticks.”
Liv sat on her soccer ball and took the book from me. Wordlessly, I handed her the flashlight. Then we all crowded around her to shield the light, and she opened the book to the last page we’d read.
New sentences immediately bled up through the paper.
Alone in the dark. How I do love to find children that way. Alone. Afraid. Running away. Running out of hope. Speaking of hope… there is a solution that will solve their little dirt problem. Too bad they won’t figure out what it is if they scurry home and hide. If they don’t figure it out, well… they won’t finish it, will they? Now then, where were we? Ah, yes. My special friend, the swamp beast. Allow me to tell you more about it: It’s sticks and stones. It’ll break your bones. Oh, dear. Does that alarm you? It’s mud and muck. You’re out of luck. It’s on its way to harm you!
Chapter Fourteen
We couldn’t say we weren’t warned. The snapping branches and thudding footsteps that alerted us to the swamp beast’s approach were a good distance away, but they threw us into a panic all the same. Liv slammed the book shut and shoved it back in my bag. Jenna snatched the flashlight from Liv and clicked it off. Josh tensed as if he was about to bolt again. I stopped him.
“Let’s stick together this time,” I urged. “It’s four against one that way.” Snort nosed me. “Sorry, five. So… any suggestions?”
“Well, we can’t go home,” Jenna said. “The Scaremaster made that pretty clear.”
“How about this?” Josh pointed up to a big tree. “We go airborne.”
I thought it sounded like a good idea, but Liv shook her head. “We can climb trees, but Snort can’t. No way I’m leaving her on the ground to face that thing alone.”
“Plus,” Jenna put in, “what if the swamp beast can climb trees too? We’d be trapped.”
That thought was plenty disturbing. We shelved Josh’s idea.
“What else we got?” I asked.
“Hide here?” Jenna suggested. She sounded dubious, though, and I could tell the others weren’t too keen on just staying where we were either.
“Kind of makes me feel like a sitting duck,” was how Liv put it.
“That leaves us with one option,” I said.
“Which is?”
Crack! A branch snapped a little ways away. “Mwooooahhh!”
“Run!”
As the swamp beast moved toward us, we took off toward—well, it was so dark I wasn’t really sure until Liv, who was in the lead, drew up short.
“Flashlight,” she ordered.
Jenna slapped it into her outstretched hand, nurse-to-surgeon style. “Flashlight.”
I was a little worried about the swamp beast seeing the beam, but Liv covered most of the light with her fingers so only a thin sliver shone through. It was enough for her to see what she wanted to see, though.
“Tire swing,” she said, pointing the light sliver at it.
Seeing the tire swing allowed me to pinpoint our exact location. How that would help us I wasn’t sure, but knowing we were in familiar territory gave me a shot of confidence. The tiny bit of light helped too, so when Liv went to turn off the flashlight, I motioned for her to keep it on but covered as before.
Then I blurted out an idea that had been bouncing around in my mind ever since I read the Scaremaster’s last entry. “Guys, remember how the Scaremaster said we wouldn’t find the solution if we scurry home and hide? Maybe he’s telling us we should stop. Make a stand. Wait for the swamp beast to come for us, and ambush it or something!”
The others looked at me as if I’d lost my marbles. “Ambush it? What do you suggest we fight it with, our good looks and sense of humor?” Liv asked scornfully.
I brushed her sarcasm aside because I was warming to my idea. I jogged a few steps off the path and came back with a hefty Y-shaped stick I’d seen in the flashlight beam. “With stuff like this! Come on, this area is littered with branches and rocks and pinecones—okay, maybe pinecones are lame,” I amended when I saw Liv roll her eyes, “but think about it. The beast is muck and mud, right? So what happens when you whack a pile of muck and mud with a stick or hit it with a rock?” I mimed an explosion of filth. “Boom! It disintegrates! Right?”
“You know what?” Liv said. “That actually makes some sense. Plus, the Scaremaster said something about us getting our hands on the solution. Maybe what we’re supposed to get our hands on are sticks and stones.”
“And the solution is we break the swamp beast’s bones instead of the other way around!” I punched my fist into my palm, then added, “If it had bones, that is.”
Josh and Jenna exchanged glances. Snort chewed the end of my stick contentedly, which I took as a good sign that the swamp beast wasn’t anywhere nearby. Then Jenna shrugged. “I got nothing better. But if we’re going to do this, we need to act fast so we’re ready when that thing shows up. Collect as many missiles as we can before it gets here.”
Josh raised his hand. “Question: Aren’t we going to have to get close to the beast to hit it with the rocks and sticks? Like, really close?”
“Not necessarily.” I opened my backpack, rooted through my stuff, and pulled out my slingshot. “We can use this.”
“You can use that,” Liv corrected. “What about us?”
I was already digging in my backpack again. This time, I pulle
d out the extra bungee cords. “Josh, give me your shirt.”
“Uh… what?”
“I need it for the pocket of the super-sized slingshot I’m making.”
He jutted out his chin. “Use your own!”
“Fine.” I took off my shirt reluctantly, not because I was ashamed of my body but because… well, Jenna. She’d seen me in bathing trunks plenty of times, but still. It felt weird.
I covered my embarrassment by whipping together a makeshift slingshot. First, I threaded a bungee cord through each armhole and down the inside of the shirt. I freed my stick from Snort’s mouth and strung the bungees and T-shirt sideways across the inside of the Y.
“It isn’t pretty, but it should work.” I handed it to Liv. “One person holds the base, another pulls back, and the third loads the missiles. Piece of cake.”
We were about to split up to search for suitable weapons when Liv stopped us. “Hold up. There’s one thing we haven’t considered.” She bit her lip. “The Scaremaster said the swamp beast was coming for us. But he didn’t say when. So what if it doesn’t come for us right away? I mean, what if it just wanders around and gets us, you know, when we least expect it?” She turned to me with a wry smile. “You of all people know how well that strategy works.”
I instantly followed where she’d drifted. The best pranks I played on her were the ones she didn’t see coming.
Liv nodded grimly when she saw my look of understanding. “If this plan is going to work, we need to make sure the swamp beast comes here. And that means—”
“One of us needs to lure it to this spot,” I finished.
“Oh, goody,” Jenna muttered. “Who gets that job?”
To my surprise, Josh stepped forward. “I should do it,” he squeaked. Then he cleared his throat and said it again with more strength. “I should do it. I’m the fastest, after all.”
“No,” I objected. “It should be me. You’re the fastest, but I know these trails like the back of my hand. I’ll lead the beast all over the place before bringing it here, give you guys time to prepare.” I waited to see if they’d argue, half hoping one of them would point out a flaw in my plan because, to be honest, I wasn’t 100 percent enthusiastic about being bait. They didn’t, though.
“Right.” I removed my backpack and handed it to Liv. “Hang on to this for me, okay?”
Before she could protest, I set off into the night to offer myself as prey to a creature that was out to break my bones.
Chapter Fifteen
Normally, I tread softly when there’s a monster stalking the night in search of me. But as the bait, I had to make it known I was available for immediate consumption. So after a few false starts caused by dry lips, I started whistling a carefree melody. (Ever hear that song about how whistling a happy tune helps you conquer your fears? Spoiler alert: It doesn’t work when you’re sharing the woods with a mountainous pile of mobile murderous mud.)
So I’ll admit it: I was scared. Separating myself from my sister and friends suddenly seemed like the stupidest idea I’d ever had, and according to Liv, I’ve had plenty of really stupid ideas. I probably would have turned back, except I knew that I was the reason we were in this predicament in the first place. So I kept going, heading for the spot we’d last heard the swamp beast roaming around.
Just my luck, it was still lurking in that general vicinity. I spotted it before it saw me, so I had a moment to observe it.
At first, I thought it had shrunk because it looked a lot shorter. Then I realized it was lying facedown on the ground. It moved like a giant inchworm across the forest floor, emitting a low groan as it pulled its rear end in, scrunched its back, and then stretched forward and flattened out again. It left behind a shiny trail of slime that was strangely clear of forest debris. I couldn’t figure out the purpose of its movements. Then I heard a slurping noise followed by the same disgustingly moist chewing sounds it had made while eating our marshmallow sticks.
It’s feeding, I thought, my stomach turning with nausea. Then I had a second thought: It’s revolting. And finally, a third: It’s now or never.
I didn’t trust my voice to work properly, so to get its attention, I picked up a pinecone and threw it at the beast. It struck the thing’s back and stuck there like a fly caught in amber.
The slurping sounds ceased. With one fluid motion, the monster curled into a crouch and unrolled up to a standing position. It swayed as if getting its balance.
That was my chance to run. But I couldn’t move. Like a deer caught in a car’s headlights, I was frozen in place, suddenly too overwhelmed by the hulking horror in front of me to do more than stare wide-eyed.
The beast lurched at me, its thick, oozing arms outstretched and its mouth opening and closing wetly. The movement broke the spell. I spurned its hug and kiss, whirled around, and took off down the path at a clip Josh would have admired.
I’d chosen this particular path because it had many twists and turns and led away from the tire swing before circling back to it. I raced up to the first bend with the swamp beast giving slow, ponderous chase. I swept around the curve, glancing over my shoulder to make sure it was still there.
It was but not where I’d anticipated seeing it. When I’d played out this chase scene in my imagination, I had our games of Trail Tag in mind. But the thing didn’t play by the rules. That is to say, it didn’t stay on the path. Instead, it made itself a shortcut through the underbrush.
A shortcut that closed the distance between us really quickly.
I thought I was a goner. I even saw the white light people have claimed to see when they were dying. I heard a voice too.
“Hey, you stupid monster! Over here! Over here!”
It was Liv! The light was from the flashlight, which she was waving around like crazy. It reminded me of a scene from a big dinosaur movie. In the scene, a kid is about to get chomped by a T. rex. An adult distracts the dinosaur with a bright flare and then throws the flare, hoping the dinosaur will chase it and leave the kid alone.
Just like in the movie, the swamp beast veered away from me and toward the darting light. I ran behind a boulder and peeked out.
“Throw the flashlight, Liv,” I muttered.
She didn’t. I remembered then that she’d been away at soccer camp when I’d seen the movie. I jumped onto the boulder and yelled at the top of my lungs, “Throw it! Throw it, throw it, throw it, throw it!”
She got the message and flung the flashlight. Unfortunately, she thought I was telling her to throw it to me. Like a bizarre game of keep-away, the flashlight spun end over end, soaring over the swamp beast’s head toward me. The monster roared and tried to grab it. It missed. So did I. The flashlight crash-landed on the boulder and burst into pieces. Liv and I were plunged into darkness while the now enraged swamp beast prowled between us.
And just like that, the Scaremaster’s prediction came true. We were out of luck.
Chapter Sixteen
Or so I thought.
Seconds after the flashlight busted apart, Liv’s and my twin thing rocketed into high gear. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would circle around to her right. So I went left. Moments later, we met halfway.
“You guessed I’d be here?” she panted.
“I knew.”
“Me too. Let’s go.”
“Righto!”
“Leave the rhyming to the Scaremaster,” she muttered. But I could hear the smile and relief in her voice.
We met up with Jenna, Josh, and Snort by the tire swing and hunkered down by the tree trunk. Not too far off, we could hear the clogged-nose snuffling and lumbering, wet footsteps of the swamp beast. I might not have led it into the throat of our ambush, but I got it close—and something told me that would be good enough.
“Whoa,” I whispered admiringly. “You’ve been busy!”
In the pale moonlight, I saw they’d collected a pile of good-sized rocks and sharp sticks.
Josh gripped the base of the handmade slingshot.
“We’re ready.”
“Let’s hope it works,” Jenna said in a low, anxious voice.
“We’re about to find out,” Liv said.
Thhhh-UCK. Thhhh-UCK. Thhhh-UCK.
The swamp beast was moving methodically around the outskirts of the clearing.
“What’s it doing?” I whispered.
“Don’t know; don’t care,” Liv replied. “Let’s do this.”
They’d obviously worked out who would do what. Josh knelt down and stuck the end of the slingshot into the ground. Liv put a nice round rock in the pocket. Jenna pulled back until the bungee cords were stretched taut.
The swamp beast turned and shambled toward us.
“Not yet,” Liv muttered. “Not yet…”
“Better be soon, because I can’t hold it much longer,” Jenna said.
“Now!”
Jenna let go. The bungee–T-shirt slingshot launched its missile with a satisfying twang. The rock hummed through the air. Squelch!
“Mwooooahhh!” The swamp beast made a lowing sound like an emotionally wounded cow.
“Yes!” I whispered. “Direct hit!” I yanked my own slingshot out of my back pocket and grabbed one of the smaller rocks. The others were already launching their second missile when I released my first. Three, four, and more whizzed through the night, and if the sounds coming from the monster were any indication, many hit the mark. When the stones ran out, Josh used the sticks they’d stripped of leaves and twigs, holding the big slingshot sideways and firing them like arrows from a crossbow.
As the stockpile dwindled, I risked a look to see how much of the swamp beast’s body had survived the pummeling. None, if we were lucky.
We were unlucky. “Hang on,” I whispered urgently, squinting. “Something’s not right.”
“What?” Liv looked too. “Wait. Why aren’t chunks of it missing? Why hasn’t it gone boom?”
The answer came to me like a bolt of lightning. My starburst rock. The marshmallow roasting sticks. The inchworm-style feeding. The pinecone. And now this volley of rocks and handmade arrows. I smacked my forehead with my hand.