The Snowy

by Dave Schneider

  Sparky and Neff approached the cages. The animals growled, screeched and hissed, except for one plump little beast, with thick brown fur, crouching quietly in corner.

  “So sweet,” said Neff, drawn toward it. It was a bit bigger than a squirrel, but a lot more cuddly. It had a round face and perfectly oval ears. It stared at Neff with big, black, sparkly eyes. Neff kneeled.

  “Don’t touch it!” spat Sparky.

  Neff, startled, pulled away. “Why?” she frowned.

  “See the animals in the cages closest to it? They’re staying as far away from it as they can. Something about it scares them.”

  “Jung’s keeping his distance, too,” said Notch.

  Jung, still in the bow, was eyeing the small creature. Suddenly, he uttered, “Mul-ge-nee.”

  “Did he say mulgny?” asked Neff, looking at Jung who nodded, his smile gone.

  “Sounds like it,” replied Sparky. “It’s in the only cage with a board on top. Looks like the board keeps the...um...mulgny, from reaching up.” Sparky extended his arm and carefully took hold. “I can hold the handle without being nailed.”

  The mulgny braced itself on hind legs against the back of the cage and pumped its clawed paws like a boxer.

  “Wait. It’s scared,” said Neff. “Maybe if I talk to it.” She stepped closer, hands behind her back and bent to the cage. “You’re so sweet,” she purred. “I know you’re scared. We look strange to you. But don’t be afraid, little one. We’re going to set you free.”

  The mulgny blinked, withdrew its claws and dropped it paws.

  “I think it’s a she,” said Neff.

  Sparky gently lifted the cage, carried it at arm’s length to the gunwale where he set it down, the door facing the water. He nodded to Neff. She reached around and carefully released the two latches that held the door. The door swung open.

  The mulgny scampered into the doorway and braced itself on the small sill. It looked at Neff, then down at the water, and leapt, feet flailing. It sunk under the surface then popped up ten feet away, paddling rapidly toward the shore.

  “She can motor,” said Sparky.

  When the mulgny was partway to the shore, she circled back for a moment, looked at Neff, then spun and paddled on toward land.

  “She uses her tail like a rudder,” said Sparky.

  Neff watched the animal scramble up the bank, shake off the water and scamper into the underbrush. “I’d love to take her home,” mused Neff, feeling homesick again.

  With the mulgny gone, Jung left the bow and helped release the remaining animals. When they got to the last cage, Jung backed away. Coiled inside was a fat snake, light green with purple and black spots down its length. It bared its gray, chipped fangs, flicked its three-forked purple tongue, and hissed.

  “Sounds like an air hose,” said Notch.

  Sparky reached for the cage. A stone struck him in the leg. “Ow. Where did that...?” He frowned, then slowly smiled. “The snake shot it. Awesome.”

  “From air hose to air gun,” said Notch. “Spits stones. A spitterel.”

  Sparky lifted the cage.

  The snake’s neck expanded. A stone smacked him in the chest.

  “Hey!” he cried, “that stings.”

  The snake recoiled, its neck expanding again. Sparky swung the cage toward side of the boat. A stone struck his arm.

  “Cut it out,” he exclaimed, slamming the cage down on the gunwale. “Talk about ungrateful.”

  “Great aim, though,” said Notch. “Try rattling its cage....”

  “Good idea.” Sparky shook it, slipped the latch and pulled open the door. A stone flew into the water. Sparky tipped the cage.

  The snake slithered out, flipped over, splashed into the water upside down and swam belly up in a circle.

  “It’s dizzy,” said Notch.

  “Good,” said Sparky, rubbing his chest and leg.

  The snake twisted upright, saw Sparky, and undulated rapidly for the shore. It slithered up a rock, coiled, expanded its neck and spat a stone toward the boat. Then another. Each stone splashed well short. But the second stone was closer.

  “Take that, and that,” hissed Notch. “Teach you not to mess with a live air gun. Sssss!”

  Sparky and Neff looked at each other, then at Notch, eyebrows raised.

  Notch coughed. “Sorry, just putting words in its mouth.”

  “Stones worked better,” smiled Neff.

  “Lame,” said Sparky.

  Neff saw the snake flick its tongue toward the mulgny, then quickly slither off in the opposite direction. She looked back at the mulgny. Its big eyes were peering at her from the shadows. She looks so lonesome. Like she has no friends. Well, she has one. “Bye, little friend,” whispered Neff.

  The boat drifted toward the river.

  “Okay, so how do we get this thing started?” asked Sparky.

  CHAPTER 28

  The Mail

  “SANDY’S GONE,” MARK SAID over the radio to Sparky’s father. “She and I went into the cave. I came back out to call the patrol. She stayed there in case the others came back through that swirling thing. Then I heard her shout. I went down. She was gone, her pack too. And so were the skiyaks. There was snow on the cave floor. Shouldn’t have been snow there...not underground.”

  “Sandy’s gone too? Cave? Swirling thing? Skiyaks? Snow underground? Mark, what are you talking about?”

  “It sounds crazy, I know. But I saw the thing. It spins like a little tornado. Sparky, Neff and Notch went into it. And now Sandy. The skiyaks are like mini kayaks, one for each foot. They probably made the tracks that Goober saw. Anyway, whatever uses the skiyaks could have gone through that thing too. Maybe after the kids. You have to get up here.”

  “I intend to, Mark. And I’m bringing the sheriff.” He dialed Sandy’s father, thinking, the kids went into a little tornado? In a cave? Kayaks for the feet? Is somebody putting us on?

  “Hello, Rob….”

  The two fathers stood together in the lower chamber. “The ski patrol,” said Sparky’s father, “is watching this thing twenty-four seven. They put that net in front of it, so no one falls in. If the kids come back, the patrol can pull it open fast. We’ve been sending messages into it. No response yet.”

  “How are you sending the messages?” asked Sandy’s father.

  “Like this.” He held up a red, white and blue Priority Mail envelope. “Courtesy of the US Postal Service. Big enough to get attention and strong enough not to come apart. This is the fourth one so far.” He reached around the net and tossed the envelope into the swirl. The envelope flipped over, circled around and whipped away.

  “That’s...frightening!” Sandy’s father said, rubbing his temples. “Our kids....”

  “I know.”

  “I want to go in there after them.”

  “So do I. But, it’s probably not a good idea.”

  “Probably not.”

  They stood helpless, staring at the swirl.

  On the eastern shoreline of the Snoflian volcanic rimland, called Lowconzia, a family of Scavenids was meandering down a rock-strewn beach, combing the sand. The beach curved in and out under a steep stone cliff. A whirlwind came over the top of the cliff, swooped down over a young Scavenid, then flew out to sea to disappear in the ocean mist.

  Something fell from the sky. The young Scavenid watched it flutter to the sand. It was red, white and blue. He picked it up. He had never felt cardboard before. He had never seen printed colors. He had no idea what Priority Mail meant. To him, it was just a pretty thing.

  He looked around. The other Scavenids hadn’t seen the envelope.

  This was his find. He turned his back to the others. He flipped the envelope over, bent it back and forth, then flipped it over again. He looked up at the cliff, then out to sea. He stuffed the envelo
pe into his sack, along with his collection of shells, stones and the dried exoskeletons of small sea animals.

  His family moved on toward the Snoflian trading point. He slung his sack over his bony shoulder and followed, wondering what he could get for this strange gift from the sky gods.

  CHAPTER 29

  Trapped!

  THE BOAT DRIFTED SIDEWAYS TOWARD THE RIVER. Sparky spun the wheel. Nothing happened. “We need power, fast,” he said.

  Notch toyed with the controls. “Okay. I think I got it,” he said.

  “Go for it,” said Sparky.

  “Sure,” said Notch, taking the wheel. “Just so you know, I’ve never driven a boat, only a helicopter.”

  “A helicopter?” asked Sparky.

  “Yeah,” said Notch.

  “Right,” said Sparky. He’s so full of it. No way would they let him fly a helicopter.

  Notch flicked the knob next to the wheel. “Switch on,” he said.

  Then he grabbed the handle beside the switch and cranked in a circle.

  “Rrr--rrr--rrr.”

  “Coffee grinder,” said Sparky.

  Suddenly, the engine popped, sputtered, and finally turned over.

  “Wait,” said Notch. “Sounds like some kind of pulse-impeller system. Got to check. Take over.” He let go of the wheel, lifted the hatch to the engine compartment and peered in. “Cool.”

  Sparky grabbed the wheel. Notch looked at him and said, “That red knob on the left should engage the impeller. Push it down a little.”

  Sparky pushed. The boat crept forward.

  “Perfect,” said Notch. “That green handle above it should be a throttle. Pull it up. Let’s see.” He glanced into the compartment again.

  Sparky pulled up. The boat lurched forward.

  Notch fell back. “Hey, take it easy Speedy!”

  Sparky shoved the handle down. The craft slowed.

  “And I’m the one who has never driven a boat,” smirked Notch.

  “Cut me some slack,” said Sparky, lifting the green handle slowly. It gently accelerated. “Better now?”

  Notch saluted.

  When he reached the river, Sparky spun the wheel to the right to head downstream. But, the boat turned faster than he expected and headed toward the right bank. “Oops!” he said, cranking the craft back to midstream, and steering toward the bend.

  The two Trappids who had been forced to abandon Neff and Notch under the nets, came barreling back with a gang, hauling coiled ropes, rolled-up nets, axes, saws, spears and knives. To them, these strange young aliens were the catch of a lifetime. They could not let them get away. They got to the river just in time to see them and their boat disappear around the bend.

  “We’re heading inland,” said Notch, shutting the engine hatch, “away from the mountains.”

  “I know,” said Sparky, “but the river should turn soon. All rivers run to the sea.”

  “Yeah, but which sea?”

  The undergrowth along the river became so thick they couldn’t see the banks. The musty smell of river muck mixed with the aroma of jungle flowers filled their nostrils. Colorful, multi-finned fish swam past. Bright green birds swooped softly overhead.

  To Neff, it was trancelike, until the head of a purple serpent appeared in the foliage above her, staring blank-eyed, a ratlike tail dangling from its mouth. “I want to be home,” she croaked.

  The river turned toward the mountains again.

  “Back on track,” said Sparky, pointing at the peaks ahead.

  Then the river turned again.

  “This is not good,” said Notch. “We’re going right back where we came from, where the Trappids were.” We already blew off two sneer-faces, stole a boat from three more and left one stuck in a tree. They will not be happy. He looked at Jung. Jung nodded slightly. He knows.

  The river curved back toward the mountains. Notch breathed a sigh of relief.

  “We got a problem,” said Sparky, pointing. The river ahead narrowed and funneled between two cliffs. The water rose, flowing faster. The boat surged ahead. “Spillway!” he shouted. “Hold on.” He pushed the green throttle upward.

  The boat accelerated.

  “You crazy?” shouted Notch.

  “Got to get control.”

  The craft hurtled between the cliffs, yawing wildly back and forth. Sparky struggled to hold it steady.

  The bow bounced off a cliff wall.

  “Oh, no,” yelled Sparky.

  A tree lay across the river beyond the cliff walls, angling upstream from a freshly sawed stump on the right side.

  “A trap,” he shouted. He spun the wheel hard to the left, gritted his teeth and jammed the throttle upward.

  The boat careened sideways into the tree. The maxed-out engine slowly carried the boat around the tip of the tree, until the bow pointed downstream again.

  “Trappids,” yelled Notch. They were running along the riverbank, axes in hand, keeping pace with the boat.

  “More,” shouted Sparky. A gang of Trappids was crouched on the bank further down, waiting. For what?

  Then Sparky saw it. “Waterfall!” Okay, it’s not big. Sparky steered toward the waterfall.

  Then he saw, “A rope.” It stretched across the river above the falls, just high enough to snag the steering column, and him!

  “Get down,” he yelled, releasing the wheel, slicing his hand across his throat and dropping to the deck. Everyone fell flat. The boat rotated slowly, then abruptly tipped, right side first, over the falls. The rope caught the steering column and tipped the boat upstream. Water gushed in. Neff and Notch hung on for dear life. The steering column slipped under the rope. The boat righted, rocked and rotated, until the bow rammed into the right bank and a huge net dropped.

  “No, no, no...not again,” cried Neff from under the webbing.

  “Again!” spat Notch. “Stupid move....”

  Jung had seen the net well before it fell and had pulled Sparky over the side of the boat. He and Sparky crawled hand over hand along the gunwale to the stern, where they saw two Trappids in the water downstream, hanging on another rope, which ran across river. The Trappids were watching the boat, and waiting.

  “Backups,” panted Sparky. “They just don’t quit!” He knew the only chance was to get past the two. “Go for it?”

  Jung nodded.

  Sparky pushed off and swam for the far bank. But the current was too strong. It carried him into the Trappid nearest that bank.

  The Trappid grabbed Sparky’s arm. Sparky kicked, but couldn’t get free. He’s strong!

  Jung hit the rope behind the Trappid and whacked him in the spine with a vaulter. The Trappid screeched, released Sparky and reached back for Jung who smacked him again, this time in the ribs. Struggling for breath, the Trappid grabbed his side with one hand and tried to hold onto the rope with the other.

  Sparky bobbed away.

  The second Trappid saw this, yelled, “Scummy alti,” and pulled himself along the rope toward Jung who held on, waiting. When the Trappid got close, Jung whacked him in the nose with a vaulter and ducked under the rope.

  Sparky saw Jung surface. Okay. The two bobbed downstream in the swift current.

  Safe, for now. Are there unduleels here? Got to get out! He tried for the bank, but the current was too strong. He rode the flow, chills up his spine, until the river widened. He got a foothold in the shallows and scrambled out.

  Jung joined him.

  “What about Neff and Notch?” asked Sparky.

  Jung pointed upstream toward the boat, then walked his fingers in the direction of the mountains.

  “They’re gonna take them that way?”

  Jung nodded.

  “So, if we go that way, we can get them?”

  Jung nodded, then paused, sniffing the air. He pus
hed Sparky to the ground and pointed.

  Two Trappids were creeping along the far bank, searching the river. They stopped across from Sparky and Jung and crouched to fill their water bags.

  Oh, come on! Sparky lay still, barely breathing. A bug landed on his cheek. He wrinkled his nose.

  The bug hung on. Jung blew at the bug. It buzzed away.

  A moment later, one of the Trappids stood and scanned the foliage along Sparky’s side of the river. Sparky shut his eyes and counted to twenty.

  CHAPTER 30

  Warrior

  A NOISE AWOKE SANDY.

  “Gud merning,” Grell said, placing a cup of hot tea, a bowl of steaming cereal and a plate of roasted nuts on the table.

  “Good morning,” croaked Sandy, opening her eyes and quickly running her hands through her hair, surprised by Grell’s sudden presence. Why am I so embarrassed? She’s not human.

  Grell smiled at Sandy, yawned, and went back to her pod.

  Sandy threw off the covers and stretched. She looked at the loose, white pullover, baggy tan pants Grell had given her the night before. “Soft as flannel pj’s,” she murmured. She sat down to breakfast.

  “May I have moment?” Grezz asked.

  Startled, Sandy turned.

  Grezz stood in the entrance of his passageway, holding a cup of hot tea, smiling.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” replied Sandy. Nothing’s private. She recalled her bath the night before. I’m lucky they didn’t pop in then.

  Grezz slurped his tea, “Our scouts see skiers on mountain rim,” he pointed north, “coming this way. Must be Lowconz. Refugees. Or warriors. You, Grell, Sorzz and Snezz go find out, yes?”

  Sorzz and Snezz? “Um, okay,” she said.

  “Good,” said Grezz. “If refugees, you help. If warriors, you stop.” He turned and left.

  Sandy watched him go. Stop warriors? How do you stop warriors? Will l have to fight? I don’t know how to fight! Should I say something?

  Grell came back with a duffel bag, plunked it on the bed, said, “Put on, now,” and left.