The Snowy

by Dave Schneider

  “Up in the mountains?” asked Neff.

  “Yeah, high ones with snow. The three spires stick into the sky like spearheads.” He took a deep breath. “It’s pretty far,” he said, biting his lip in thought, “but I think we can make it.”

  “You think you know where it went?” shot Notch, angrily. “You think we can make it? Now you think? You couldn’t think before?” Notch held up the flashlight. “You couldn’t let me throw this in first? You had to be a big shot and stick your hand in instead?”

  Sparky glowered.

  “Look guys,” said Neff, “the wormhole is our only way back. We have no choice. We have to go after it—or at least go where we think it went.” She looked at Sparky. “Which way?”

  Sparky pointed. “That way.” He looked up at the sun, then at his shadow. “East. It went east. It was head....”

  “Okay,” said Neff, interrupting, “There must be a trail. Let’s find it.” She pushed toward the trees.

  CHAPTER 12

  Jungle

  NEFF PAUSED. A barrier of black leaves as big as dinner plates blocked her way. “There’s got to be a trail on the other side,” she said.

  “Okay, so how do we get through?” asked Notch.

  “Maybe...like this,” said Sparky, dropping to his stomach. He squirmed under the leafy barrier and stood up inside, eyes adjusting. A shadowy glade interspersed with gnarly black trunks spread before him, beneath a canopy of the same round leaves.

  “Come on,” he said. Neff and Notch squirmed through. As they stood, a shadow bolted from behind a distant trunk and flitted away into the darkness.

  “What was that?” Notch blurted.

  “Had lots of legs, whatever it was,” said Sparky. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He led the way to a wall of entwined branches on the far side of the canopy and crawled under. Neff and Notch followed.

  “Trail’s here,” said Sparky, pointing. A narrow path came along the glade from the left and turned into the trees ahead.

  “We’ll have to go single file,” said Notch.

  “No kidding,” said Sparky under his breath, as he eyed the trail.

  “Sparky, you take point,” continued Notch. “You’re good at tracking.”

  “Tracking?” asked Sparky, eyebrows raised. I’m not tracking anything. Who made him boss?

  “Neff,” said Notch, “you take the middle and I’ll take the rear. If one of us whistles, everybody stop. Okay?”

  “Sure,” said Neff, shrugging.

  Sparky, listening to the cacophony of birds, shook his head. Pssst would be better than whistling.

  Notch, looked back up the trail for a moment. “Nothing coming. Okay, guys. Let’s get moving,” he said, turning.

  Sparky and Neff were already walking away.

  Notch cleared his throat and jogged after them.

  “Everything in here looks purple,” said Neff, as Notch caught up.

  “It’s the red sun,” he said, staring up through the lofty jungle. “Makes everything here in the shadows seem purple. Must be an old sun.”

  They walked on. To Neff, the black, wet soil and stone shelves slick with fungus and seeping water seemed to go on forever. My backpack’s heavy...it’s my ski boots...I’m scared...I truly do not want to be here...Will we ever find the wormhole...I wish I had the bubble from my dream...I miss my mom and my dad, and my llama. Who’ll take care of the baby llama? She stared into the thicket. Something’s watching us. I can feel it.

  Sparky slid across a wet slab, jumped off, and looked into the trees. I bet there are all kinds of weird things in there.

  Notch watched him. Sparky has no idea where we’re going. We’re lost, maybe forever. I’m tired. Wait a minute, Notch...hold on. Stop thinking like that. Keep it together. We’ve got to catch the wormhole. Why is Sparky going so slow? “Can’t we go faster?” he asked.

  Sparky glared at him and hissed, “We’re in survival mode. We walk slowly. We conserve energy. We do not rush. Not ever! It’s our best chance.”

  “His uncle taught survival,” said Neff, quietly.

  “Fine,” muttered Notch, smarting from Sparky’s rebuke. He looked away thinking, then why is Sparky sliding across rocks like we’re on a picnic?

  They had begun slogging through a forest of giant ferns, when Notch tapped Neff. She jumped slightly. “What?’ she asked turning. He pointed to her hiking boot. “Yuck!” she whispered. Her lace had been dragging in the mud, untied. It was black and gooey.

  Notch whistled.

  Sparky came back.

  Neff crouched, facing Notch. She squeezed the mud from her lace with her thumb and forefinger, then wiped them on a fern. As she tied the laces, she looked into the ferns. And stared. A perfectly round log glistened gray-green. With suction cups?

  Neff tapped Notch’s knee and pointed. He stepped closer to Neff and crouched to look.

  Sparky slipped past him and pushed the fern aside. A huge tentacle lay there. He touched it with the toe of his boot. It moved. Neff stood.

  Sparky handed his backpack to Notch, pulled out his utility knife, and motioned to Notch and Neff to move ahead. They tiptoed away. Sparky stepped backwards behind them, knife in hand, eyes on the massive appendage.

  Neff glanced back. Will it come after him?

  Just then, as if responding to Neff’s thoughts, the thing slithered from the underbrush and whipped around Sparky’s waist. Sparky dropped to his knees.

  “Sparky,” cried Neff.

  It began to drag Sparky into the ferns. He jabbed at it. It flinched, paused, then dragged again. Sparky stabbed deeper. It shuddered, slackened, uncoiled and writhed away, seeping a trail of dark red blood.

  “You nailed it,” said Notch.

  Sparky wiped the knife on a fern and put it in his pocket. He was covered with mud and blood. “Got to rinse off. Let’s go.” He took his backpack from Notch and started down the trail.

  “Will it follow us?” asked Neff.

  “I don’t think so,” said Sparky. “It tried to pull me the other way, the way we came. So its mouth must be back there too.”

  Neff drew her arms around her body, as she walked, thinking, we must have gone right past it. She shivered.

  Notch looked back. “You think it lives in water, like an octopus?”

  “Could,” said Sparky. “Lots of water around here. Might live in a pond, or underground lake. Maybe it sends its tentacles up through a sink hole, or quicksand and leaves them lying in muck, waiting for prey.”

  “An octopus in muck,” said Notch. “A muckapus!”

  “Never heard of a muckapus,” said Sparky.

  “It’s Latin,” said Notch. “So, there could be more muckapi here.”

  “Probably,” said Sparky, stopping, “especially with animal paths and quicksand, like here, where they can grab things.” Muckapi?

  “Scary,” said Neff, looking around. “Thanks, Sparky,” she said quietly. She looked at the mud and blood. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded.

  “I never saw quicksand,” said Notch. “What’s it look like?”

  Sparky gestured with his foot. “Like that.”

  Notch looked down. A pool of mud jiggled just off the path by his foot. He stepped back. “Right,” he said, “so we stick to the path.”

  “Good idea,” smiled Sparky.

  Notch tossed a stick onto the quicksand. “It doesn’t sink,” he said.

  “Sticks don’t struggle, like you would,” said Sparky, setting off.

  Like I would? Notch looked back. I guess I would.

  They came to small stream. Neff rinsed her hands. Sparky washed the muck and blood from his clothes.

  “My ski boots are getting really heavy,” said Neff, lifting her backpack. “Why do we need them?”

&nb
sp; “Maybe to ski down when we get back,” said Sparky.

  “I’d be happy to walk down...if we ever get back,” said Notch. “We have a long way to go. The boots are heavy.” He looked at Sparky. “You did say we need to conserve energy.”

  “I did,” said Sparky. Why didn’t I think about that?

  The three left their buckled boots by the side of the trail and walked away.

  Notch shrugged. I needed new ones anyway.

  Sparky glanced back. They were so well tuned.

  Neff thought of her dad. Maybe he’ll buy me new ones. We have to get home. I’ll worry about them then.

  They trudged on, their loads lighter. The path led uphill into a sparse woodland, quiet and dry. The sun cast a pink glow through the trees. They sat for a moment in the warmth.

  Why do I keep feeling we’re being watched? “My mom must know I’m gone by now. She’ll be beside herself.” Neff swallowed the urge to cry, but it didn’t work. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away.

  “All our parents must know by now,” said Sparky. Mom doesn’t need this now. This will make her sicker. Will I ever see her again? I wish I hadn’t stuck my dumb hand into the stupid wormhole! “My dad will be mad.”

  “Knowing my father,” said Notch, “he’ll hire a private army to get us.”

  “Mercenaries?” asked Sparky, loosening his boot laces.

  “Yeah,” replied Notch. “Only they don’t like the word mercenaries anymore. They think of themselves as professional soldiers. I can see them now. The wormhole dumping one after another on their butts, and them not having a clue where they are.”

  “Or how they’d get back,” smirked Sparky.

  “My mother would talk my dad out of it, anyway,” said Notch. “But, you know, in a weird way, I wish he’d send them, and find us.” He stared off, lost in thought.

  “My mom will just want me back,” said Neff. “But knowing my dad, he’ll want to blame someone for all this, like the ski area.”

  “Why would he blame the ski area?” asked Sparky.

  “Because he’d feel helpless. Blaming someone is his way of dealing.” Neff paused. The boys looked at her, slowly following her reasoning.

  “It’s our fault we’re here,” said Neff, looking at Sparky.

  “Why look at me?” he asked.

  “I’m not blaming you,” said Neff.

  “But you looked at me like you were.”

  “It’s only that you were the one who first wanted to check out the cave. It was your idea,” said Neff.

  Sparky frowned at her. “But we all....”

  “Yes,” said Neff nodding. “We all went along with it.” She paused. “Trying to blame someone is a waste of time. We’re here. We’re responsible. We’re not helpless. We can walk.” She looked up. “We can find the wormhole. And we can take care of each other.”

  Sparky and Notch nodded.

  The three sat silent for a while.

  Neff thought about Sandy, left alone in the cave. She must feel terrible not knowing where we are or what happened to us.

  Suddenly, Sparky whispered, “Everything just got quiet. Something’s there.” He peered into the trees. “I don’t like this,” he said, tying his laces quickly.

  CHAPTER 13

  Sandy’s Vigil

  SANDY STOOD AT THE BOTTOM of the curved tunnel, the lower chamber in front of her.

  Mark paced back and forth by the cave entrance above, waiting for the ski patrol.

  Sandy held a glimmer of hope—if the creature had gone into that spinning thing, maybe her friends could come back out.

  The heat from the lava furnace warmed her. But its fluctuating red glow made her nervous. I hope it doesn’t erupt.

  She studied the skiyaks lying askew on the cave floor in front of her. I wonder what they’re like in the snow.

  Once again, she eyed the spinning thing. It wobbled. Her heart pounded. It took my friends! She felt a surge of anger. She took a deep breath, gritted her teeth, and glared, “What did you do with my friends?”

  The thing spun faster, spewing a spray of red and black sparks. Sandy got up and backed further into the tunnel. But the sparks fell short, glowed briefly and died.

  “You’re mean!” she muttered, hugging her chest. Suddenly, the thing stopped spinning and changed into an opaque, black cone. “What are you doing?”

  It began to spiral again, slowly, in the opposite direction.

  “I don’t like what you’re doing. You scare me. I’m going up with Mark.” She zipped her parka, picked up her backpack and started up the winding tunnel, then stopped. Wait! If it’s spinning the other way, maybe it’s bringing my friends back. She turned around.

  In a flash, the swirl changed from black to glaring white.

  A snowstorm suddenly blew from the swirl, fell to the floor and began drifting towards her. She brought her backpack up to her chest.

  “Uh, uh. No,” she cried, backing up, “Get away!”

  CHAPTER 14

  Weird Willows

  SPARKY, NEFF AND NOTCH moved rapidly uphill and across a small plateau, where they wove through head high trees, all rippling with thick layers of tiny, pointed leaves. They could see the three spires on the horizon.

  “Still going the right way,” said Sparky.

  “Maybe,” said Notch. Who knows if it’s still the right way? We haven’t seen the wormhole since it blew us off.

  The path dropped over the rim of the plateau into a forest of massive, willow-like trees, twice as high as any they had ever seen.

  “Look at this,” Neff said as they padded across a thick mat of fallen, whip-like branches. “It’s like a giant basket weaver threw everything down in a huff and left.” It feels soft enough to sit on. “Can we take a break?” she asked.

  “Sounds good to me.” Sparky cut toward a mound warmed by a ray of sun. They sat.

  Notch gazed up in awe. The hanging branches swayed in perfect unison with the gentle breeze, their tips brushing over the mat like a giant broom.

  “Some of the branches are stuck,” said Sparky, “like that one.”

  Notch crawled to it for a closer look. “The tip has tapped into the mat, probably for water. Has three little hooks near the end. See? The hooks hold on to the mat, so the tapper can burrow in.” His knees were getting wet. “Spongy,” he said, stepping back.

  “Spongy there. Springy here,” said Sparky, pressing his hand into the hump. “Check it out.” He stood and bounced.

  The mat bulged.

  “Something’s under there!” said Notch. He and Neff jumped off. Sparky stayed on, balancing.

  Suddenly, the mound burst open. Sparky flew off, landed on his rear and jumped to his feet.

  A giant snout with two flaring nostrils burst into the open, followed by a gaping mouth with rows of peg-like teeth, and two tiny green eyes. The beast sniffed the air, opening and closing its mouth. It swung its head in a slow circle, then paused, pointing at Sparky, sniffing in short bursts.

  Sparky stood stone still, terrified.

  The mouth formed a big O. And burped. A foul yellow fog engulfed Sparky.

  Sparky held his breath, his eyes watering.

  Seeing no movement, the beast snorted once and slipped under the mat: “Schlupp.”

  A layer of slime flowed from the hole.

  “Yuck!” said Neff.

  “Monster slug,” said Sparky, coughing.

  “Slugasaur,” said Notch.

  “We should go now,” said Neff.

  “Yeah,” whispered Sparky, turning away.

  “Wait. Look,” said Neff.

  A small gray animal was waddling across the mat, sniffing from side to side. It brushed against a swaying branch. In a flash, the branch curled around it and rolled upward.

  “Whoa
h,” said Notch.

  “We should get away from here,” said Neff.

  “Hold on,” said Notch, watching. “Let’s see what happens.”

  “Food for the tree?” asked Sparky.

  “Or for something else,” said Neff. “I really think we need to go.”

  “Um, Neff,” said Sparky, pointing up, “you might be right.”

  A long, cat-like creature with short legs, covered with gray fur and green marks like willow leaves, was creeping along a limb. It paused above the animal, stretched and yawned.

  “A leopard in a willow,” said Notch. A willowpard. With big teeth.

  “I don’t like this,” said Neff. Where does he get these names?

  The cat scratched the bark with its front paws, then leapt to the coil. It held on with one paw and curled the other paw in.

  “Eeeech.”

  Neff winced. The cat stirred its paw. Another screech. A whine. Then silence. The cat pulled out a piece of flesh and fur. It ate, dropping pieces of the fur down through the leaves. Then it dug in again.

  “Sick,” said Neff, looking away.

  “Interesting,” said Notch, still watching.

  “Nature,” said Sparky. He had seen carnivores eat other animals before.

  Neff grabbed his elbow. “Please, let’s go, now,” she said.

  Sparky nodded.

  They headed off, steering clear of the swaying branches. They had walked for a while, when there was a sudden gust of wind. Sparky and Neff paused to let it pass.

  “Help!” screamed Notch.

  They spun, to see him spiraling upward.

  “How did he...? Got to help,” said Sparky, pulling out his utility knife.

  “What are you doing?” cried Neff. If Sparky gets caught, I’ll be alone! Wait, what am I thinking? Notch is in trouble.

  “Help!”

  Sparky spread his arms and stepped into a leafy bough. It whipped around his chest and carried him upward, right past Notch. Sparky tried to cut his way out of it. But it only squeezed tighter. It’s like a python. So hard to breathe.