Willy Maykit in Space Page 5

  “I thought you said they didn’t come out in the daytime.” Willy gasped.

  Cindy’s knees knocked together like chattering teeth. “Me too.”

  “I did,” Norp said, wide-eyed, “but look!” The monster burst through the trees in front of them and gave another roar. “It’s wearing sunglasses.”

  Sure enough, the monster was wearing sunglasses. And once again it was smiling, an evil, hungry smile. It took a step toward them. Then another . . . and another . . . and then—

  Another sound came. Not a monster’s roar. This was more like a human voice, some sort of . . . Tarzan yell.

  Or a Thortock yell.

  Max the android pilot, swinging on a vine, dropped in front of them. Then he took a step toward the monster and said, “Listen up, big fella. A chicken walks into a bar . . .”

  Chapter 13

  More Trouble in the Amazon

  Even though Mr. Maykit had broken out of the cage that held him by using a football move from his college days, all was not well. He was still lost in a jungle that was hundreds of miles in every direction. And this jungle was one scary place. It had insects as large as his hands, snakes as long as his living room, leopards and panthers and other things with sharp teeth that went bump in the night . . . and went growl in the daytime. Plus, the weather was blazing hot, and it rained every day.

  If the jungle creatures didn’t get him, the weather would.

  But what scared Mr. Maykit the most were the foothunters who were undoubtedly chasing him. So he kept moving, glancing over his shoulder. The foothunters knew the jungle like the back of their . . . feet. They also had spears and bows and arrows.

  Mr. Maykit needed some kind of weapon of his own. He stooped and picked up rocks to throw. He filled his pockets with them. Before becoming an adventurer and scientist, he had been a minor league pitcher. “Have arm, will throw”—that was Mr. Maykit. And he had spent many happy hours teaching his son, Willy, the finer points of throwing a baseball. Slider, knuckle, curve—Mr. Maykit could do it all.

  He kept moving, feeling better now that he had rocks to throw. But he needed to find water. Moving water, to be exact. Follow a small creek and you’ll find a bigger one. Follow that and you’ll eventually find a river. Small rivers lead to larger rivers. Follow a big river long enough and you’ll find a village.

  Hopefully, not a foothunter village.

  That was the plan—he’d find moving water and it would eventually lead him out of the jungle. “I’m coming home, Willy,” Mr. Maykit said out loud, thinking of his son. “I’ll be home for dinner.” Being home for dinner was impossible, and Willy’s father knew it. But it kept his spirits up to think this way and made him walk just a little bit faster.

  That night, Mr. Maykit climbed a tree and tried to sleep. A tree wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world to sleep, but it was better than being on the ground, where all sorts of creepy things lived. Plus, on the ground, the foothunters might stumble upon him in the night.

  Sure enough, as Mr. Maykit sat in the tree, below him the foothunters crept by with their spears, bows and arrows, and blowguns, muttering to one another in foothuner language. Mr. Maykit held his breath until they passed. Then he waited for the sun to rise. When it did, he climbed down and headed in the other direction.

  “Find a creek,” he said to himself. “Find a river. Find home.”

  He walked all that day and all the next. But there was no sign of running water. During the daily rainstorms, he collected water from the broad-leafed plants. He ate tiny fruits and other plants to keep his strength up. He was a scientist—he knew which plants were edible and which ones were not.

  Then, on the third day, there it was: a small creek, trickling down a hillside. The water was a strange yellowish-brown color, and it called to mind the famous literary work Yellow River by I. P. Freely. As far as Mr. Maykit knew, the book was a one-hit wonder. I. P. Freely had never written anything else.

  Mr. Maykit smiled. For the first time since breaking out of the foothunters’ cage, he was filled with hope. “Follow the creek,” he muttered to himself. “That’s the ticket.”

  Chapter 14

  Run!

  “Now’s our chance,” Willy said. “Run!”

  The three friends turned and did just that. The monster was occupied, listening to a joke, or at least looking at Max and thinking he’d make a nice midmorning snack.

  In any case, the monster was distracted. It was time to get out of there.

  Willy, Cindy, and Norp ran down a slope, stumbling over one another. As they say, you don’t have to outrun the beast; you just have to outrun the person next to you.

  They kept running, hopping fallen logs, leaping small creeks. Then they sprinted around a bend and—

  Right in front of them stood three more monsters, Planet Ed creatures of the night. Only it wasn’t dark out at all. It was broad daylight. And they were wearing sunglasses.

  “Oh, no! Monsters in sunglasses,” Cindy said. “It’s a fashion trend!”

  A mighty roar. Make that three roars—grizzly bear, T. rex, and killer whale, times three.

  “Run!”

  This time they split up—Norp ran right, Cindy left, and Willy somewhere in between. The monsters split up too—pick a snack, any snack.

  Willy tore into the woods, no trail in sight. He blazed his own. Twigs snapped as the monster came after him. Make that branches, not twigs. Huge branches, now and then a log—CRACK! This was no small monster. He was huge and strong. He probably lifted weights in his spare time. He could have his pick of dates to the annual Monster Ball.

  Willy ran on until he reached the canyon above the roaring river. On the other side was their tree and safety. He grabbed a vine and swung across, letting out a tiny, victorious Tarzan yell. “Ahh-ee-ahhhh!”

  Only he forgot to let go of the vine.

  He swung across the canyon. Then he swung back to where the monster was waiting, hands out, ready to grab. Make that claws out.

  Willy let go of the vine and down he went. Down, down, down—KERSPLASH—into the river. He was swept away, wet, cold, but not a snack. At least not yet.

  Once out of the canyon, the river slowed, and Willy pulled himself onto the riverbank. Then he shook himself like a wet dog and looked around. There was no sign of the monster, but also no sign of anything familiar, including Cindy and Norp.

  A twig snapped. Then another.

  Willy reached down and grabbed some mud from the riverbank. He formed it into a ball and cocked his arm back, ready to throw. He had escaped once before when the monster chasing him was temporarily blinded. But Phelps, the coolest bird in the universe, was nowhere to been seen. How do you blind a monster without bird poop?

  Mudball to the eyes—that’s how.

  “Willy!” Norp popped out of the bushes nearby, holding his hands up. “Don’t shoot!”

  Willy dropped his arm. “You mean don’t throw.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Where’s Cindy?” Willy asked.

  “They got her.”

  Willy let go of the mudball. “What?” He felt a pang of guilt. If it wasn’t for him, Cindy would have been home by now. Instead she was headed for the monsters’ breakfast table.

  Norp nodded. “What do we do?”

  “Ever tracked a monster before?” Willy asked.

  “Never. How do we do it?”

  Willy sniffed. “Follow the monster breath.”

  “Guess they don’t believe in breath mints on this planet.”

  “Exactly,” Willy said, stooping down to grab another handful of mud from the riverbank. “But first things first. Help me out here, Norp. We need more mudballs.”

  “Mudballs?”

  “They’re the only weapon we’ve got.”

  Willy and Norp worked quickly, making mudballs and placing them in the hood of Willy’s jacket. Then they set off in search of Cindy.

  Fortunately, the monsters had big feet, which meant they left bi
g footprints. There were also broken tree branches and bits of fur left behind. But mostly it was the monster breath that led them. Where you smell monster breath, you find monsters. That’s the way it works—nasty breath, nasty monsters.

  It wasn’t long before Willy and Norp were crouched in the bushes just outside the entrance to an enormous cave.

  Willy made a face. “Figures they’d live in a cave.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Norp asked.

  Willy didn’t want his alien friend to know that he was absolutely terrified of the dark. At home he slept with a night-light. He glanced at the cave. Something told him there wouldn’t be night-lights inside.

  “You don’t like caves?” Norp asked.

  Willy shrugged. “Uh . . . it’ll be dark in there. How are we going to find Cindy?”

  Norp snorted and pulled a flashlight from his pocket. “What’s with you Earthlings? You can travel through space but you don’t have flashlights?”

  “You’re a handy alien to have around,” Willy said. He reached into the hood of his jacket and grabbed a few mudballs. “Let’s go.”

  “Yes, let’s,” Norp said. “But you’re the alien.”

  Being captured by a monster was worse than being picked last in kickball. Worse than being force-fed Brussels sprouts. Worse than being left behind on a faraway planet. Worse than—

  Well, let’s just say it was worse than a lot of things. This was what Cindy Das was thinking as the monster dragged her deep into the forest and then into an enormous cave.

  “Put me down!” she yelled. The monster wasn’t listening, and Cindy was about to faint from the smell of monster breath. “Don’t you believe in breath mints on this planet?”

  Chapter 15

  How to Kill a Fashion Trend

  Sure enough, there were no night-lights in the monsters’ cave. Willy and Norp crept along, monster breath growing fouler by the second.

  “Too bad we didn’t bring a bunch of breath mints,” Norp whispered. “We’d make a killing.”

  Willy nodded, but he had more important things on his mind. Like rescuing Cindy before the monsters made a killing. He just hoped they weren’t too late.

  Up ahead they saw a flickering light. Maybe they have night-lights after all, Willy thought. But as they reached a wide spot in the cave, they found that it was just a fire burning in some type of fire pit—no monsters in sight, and no Cindy. If you think it’s strange that monsters know how to build fires, remember this is Planet Ed we’re talking about. They not only have monster fires, they have monster games and an annual Monster Ball. On Earth they just live under beds and hang out in closets.

  Willy and Norp were about to move on when they spotted a table covered with sunglasses.

  “Want to kill a fashion trend?” Willy asked.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Norp said. He grabbed a handful of sunglasses and tossed them into the fire. Willy helped until there was nothing left on the table but cave dust.

  Then they moved on, and the firelight grew faint. But not the monster breath. Soon they heard noises, low growls and quiet roars.

  “Monster talk,” Norp whispered.

  Willy nodded. “Better turn off the flashlight.”

  Up ahead they saw more flickering light. It was another fire pit, this time surrounded by monsters, and there was Cindy, still alive. One of the creatures held her by the arm.

  “Now what?” Norp whispered.

  “I throw, you grab Cindy?”

  In the low light of the fire, Willy could see Norp’s antennae twitch. “Seriously? That’s the plan?”

  “You have a better one?” Willy asked. “Besides, you haven’t seen me throw. Before my dad became a scientist, he was a minor league pitcher. Taught me how the pros do it.”

  Norp gave him a strange look. “What’s a minor league?” he asked. “What’s a pitcher?”

  “Baseball,” Willy said, as if an alien would understand.

  “What?” whispered Norp.

  “Never mind.”

  There was no time to explain America’s pastime to a guy from another planet. They had to rescue Cindy before she became breakfast.

  “Follow me,” Willy said. “I’ll create a diversion.”

  “A what?” Norp whispered.

  “A diversion. Mudball diversion. Confuse the monsters while you grab—”

  A monster stepped in front of them and let out a huge roar.

  “Get Cindy!” Willy yelled as he hurled a mudball.

  It was a direct hit, straight to the eyes. Willy threw another one, then another. It was mudball city. Everywhere you looked, flying mud. Monsters scattered, and in the commotion, the monster holding on to Cindy let go. Norp grabbed her arm, and they both ran deeper into the cave. Willy followed, hurling one last mudball for good measure.

  But now what?

  They were together again, but inside the enemy’s cave, and running away from the entrance. The flying mud had caught the monsters off guard. Soon they’d be giving chase, angrier than ever, ready for a midmorning snack.

  There was just one thing to do: run and hope for the best. And so run they did, on and on. One tunnel led to another, which led to another. Meanwhile the growls grew louder behind them.

  And then Willy saw something. “I see light,” he yelled.

  Sure enough, up ahead there was light, and it wasn’t flickering like firelight. It was a steady beam coming from—

  “Outside,” Cindy said, pointing. “There’s our escape.”

  Unfortunately, the hole was too small to crawl through. It was more of an escape route for a rat . . . or a Chihuahua.

  “Dig!” Willy yelled.

  Cindy and Norp dug and kicked at the dirt around the hole, making it bigger . . . and bigger. But the Planet Ed creatures were coming up fast.

  “Hurry!” Willy yelled.

  Finally, Cindy pushed herself through into the daylight, followed by Norp. “Your turn, Willy,” he called.

  Only now the monsters were upon him. Willy reached into his hood for another mudball. But there was none.

  No way out. And no time. Willy needed a plan. What to do when you’re all out of mudballs?

  Use a spitball instead. Willy reared back and . . . P-tew.

  Willy was much better at mudballs than spitballs. The loogey missed by a mile. While he was trying to hock a second attempt, Norp reached through the hole and yanked Willy to safety.

  Fresh air at last. Well, not exactly fresh—they could still smell monster breath—but at least they were out of the cave.

  Chapter 16

  Monster Ball

  Cindy threw her arms around Willy and Norp. “You guys are the best! Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Norp said.

  “Yeah,” Willy agreed. “All for one, and one for all.”

  “I could hardly breathe in there,” Cindy said. “Monster breath, you know?”

  Willy sniffed. “We know.” He glanced nervously back at the cave. Any second now, monsters would be pouring out in search of the meal that had eluded them. “We better head back to our tree before they come after us again.”

  “They can’t come after us,” Norp said. “We killed their fashion trend, remember?” He turned to Cindy and explained. “We threw all their sunglasses into a fire.”

  Willy remembered destroying the glasses in the fire, but he also knew that everyone has spare sunglasses. Don’t they?

  “Spares?” Cindy guessed, reading the scared look on Willy’s face.

  “Probably,” Willy said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The trio hurried back to the tree, swinging across the canyon like a couple of Tarzans and a Thortock. This time Willy made sure he let go of the vine at the proper time. Soon they were safe and munching a late breakfast of purple fruit.

  The monsters never came after them. Maybe they didn’t have spare sunglasses after all. This was what Willy thought. But it was not the case. The monsters had plenty of s
pares. They had just decided to postpone the hunt for another day. In the meantime, they had their annual Monster Ball to get ready for.

  Here’s the thing about monsters—they’re not very good at making music. Their paws are made for clawing and ripping things apart, not for plucking and strumming fine musical instruments. Still, what’s a party without music?

  “What’s that?” Willy asked from the tree that evening as the sun was going down. Imagine a truckload of musical instruments being dumped onto a field. This was the sound coming from the direction of the monsters’ cave—randomly plucked, out-of-tune stringed instruments and blaring horns. No melody at all.

  “Sounds like kindergartners broke into a music room,” Cindy said, covering her ears.

  “Yeah,” Norp said. He had no idea what kindergartners were, but he could guess from the look on Cindy’s face that they had to be something horrible. “Those monsters could use some music lessons.”

  The music, or whatever you want to call it, went on for hours, and Willy and his friends could only assume that it was some sort of celebration. What did the monsters have to celebrate, though? That they were mudballed by a fourth-grader? That their breakfast escaped to live another day?

  It was a celebration, of course, but it had nothing to do with Willy, Cindy, and Norp. It was the Monster Ball, the biggest event on the monsters’ social calendar. There were monster snacks and monster drinks, monster music and monster dances. And everyone was involved.

  Everyone except the one monster who didn’t have a date. Everyone except the one monster who’d been pooped on.

  And so the monster whom we earlier referred to as Sam didn’t attend the Monster Ball. Instead, he wandered away from the party into the forest, looking for revenge, searching for the two humans and the green guy with twitching antennae.