Out of the Wild

The forest fell silent.

  And then Henry started talking again. His voice sounded like a stream, words tumbling over each other like water over rocks. It was kind of nice and comforting. At least this time in the woods, she wasn’t alone. “This was supposed to be, you know, a father-son bonding trip. I am one hundred percent sure this is not the kind of bonding stuff Dad meant. We were supposed to hike, fish, do touristy things. Not get kidnapped by a dragon, tied up in a castle, and left in a forest infested by fairy-tale bears and lions and witches and stuff—and I would have said ‘left in a forest at night,’ except it seems to suddenly be daylight, which is totally wrong because it was night, like, two minutes ago.” He paused to suck in air, and then he said, “Julie, are you okay?” She felt his fingers touch hers, and she jumped.

  Instantly, she wished she hadn’t jumped. Had Henry been about to hold her hand? She felt herself blush and had to think for an extra second about his question. Was she okay? The Wild was here, and everyone she cared about was once again trapped in its fairy-tale stories. Worse, it was (at least partially) her fault—she’d performed the final fairy-tale event that had fueled the Wild. “Not really,” she said. “You?”

  He paused, thinking about it, and then said, “Not really. I never suspected. About my dad, I mean. Not once. All my life, he was pretending to be someone else, playing the role of the ordinary dad. Makes me wonder: how much of my life is a lie?”

  Julie didn’t know what to say to that. She reached out and touched his hand. His fingers curled around hers. His palm felt warm and damp.

  “So what do we do now?” he asked.

  Julie looked back at the castle, shining and shimmering above the trees. It was their only hope. She was sure of it. They needed a door in a castle that led to the Wishing Well Motel. She took a deep breath. “We go back there.”

  He stared at her. “But your mom said—”

  “My mom’s not always right,” Julie said. As she said it, she realized it was true. Running and hiding weren’t going to keep her safe. “Besides, you want to free your dad, don’t you? The Wild can only control someone during a fairy-tale event. Once your dad’s done spinning, he’ll have free will again. He can escape before the next story bit starts. That’s how I made it to the well last time.”

  As they walked back to the castle, past a cat playing a violin and an oversized egg perched on a wall, she told him about her mom, her dad, and the door to the Wishing Well Motel. She also told him about how she’d instructed everyone in Disneyland to retell her story and how she hoped that would force the Wild to include a motel room door in its castles. “Even inside the Wild, people will still be able to retell it, at least until they reach a story ending. Once they reach an ending, they’ll of course forget everything.”

  “How many times does the story have to be told before the door appears?” Henry asked. “A hundred? A thousand? A million? A trillion?”

  Good question. Julie didn’t know. Could she stay clear of fairy-tale endings for long enough? It wouldn’t do any good for the door to appear if she didn’t remember to walk through it. She repeated the worry out loud.

  “We’ll just have to make sure we don’t get caught in any stories then,” Henry said. “We’ll watch out for each other. I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine.” The Cutest Boy Ever was saying “we.” Julie stared at him for an instant and then realized he was blushing. “I mean, if that’s okay with you,” he said.

  “It’s okay,” she said quickly. “Definitely okay. We’ll stick together.”

  He smiled shyly, and she was suddenly very, very conscious of the fact that they were holding hands. She knew she shouldn’t care about it right now, with the Wild all around them and her parents trapped and Boots missing, but she was holding hands with a boy! She glanced down—and saw that there was a sword in Henry’s other hand.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. “Where did you get that?” she asked, though she knew the answer. A story had found him!

  He looked down at the sword and blinked. “I didn’t . . . It wasn’t . . .” He lifted it, and it glinted in the moonlight. “Whoa, it just appeared! Things aren’t supposed to do that. Why did it just appear?”

  Julie stopped walking. Trying to keep her voice even, she said, “Probably so you can fight the dragon.” Curled in front of the castle was the dragon from the Grand Canyon. Its iridescent scales glittered as it flexed its wings. It fixed its eyes on them, and its forked tongue flicked out like a snake.

  “I don’t want to fight a dragon!” Henry panicked. “It breathes fire. Don’t you remember how it breathes fire? It almost roasted you!” He shook his hand as if trying to drop the sword. Julie jumped back as the blade sliced the air in front of her.

  “It’s blocking the castle gate,” Julie said, dodging the sword tip. “Give me the sword.” She’d caught the attention of the dragon in the Grand Canyon. She could do it again. Right? “I’ll distract it. You get inside, rescue your dad, find the door to the Wishing Well Motel, and then wish for no Wild. Okay?” She tried to take the sword from Henry, but his hand wouldn’t unclench. Sweat beaded on Henry’s forehead, and his body began to shake. The Wild had already chosen its new knight, she realized. It was taking control.

  “I can’t let go!” he said, fear in his voice.

  Which fairy tale was this? Was Henry about to be the knight who slays the dragon, or was he about to be one of the knights who failed? Every story had the older sons or pompous knights who failed before the hero finally won. “You have to ride it out,” she said, fighting to sound calm. “When the fairy-tale moment ends, you’ll be free again.” Please, please, please, let him be a knight who lives!

  He didn’t have the chance to reply. Like a puppet jerked by strings, Henry marched toward the castle and the dragon. He held the sword over his head with both hands.

  Julie watched through the trees. “Be careful, Henry,” she whispered. If he didn’t know how to fight a dragon, would he automatically be the knight who failed?

  The dragon swiped its tail at the boy. It slammed into Henry’s stomach. He sailed backward and landed in the bushes. Henry! About to rush to him, she stopped herself. Best thing she could do was get inside the castle. She could save him if she could get to the well. Julie crept closer to the castle.

  Henry shouted a challenge to the dragon as he leapt to his feet. The dragon snapped its jaws in response. The sound echoed through the forest.

  She was only a few feet from the castle now. All he had to do was draw the dragon a little farther away, and she could run inside.

  A big green leaf jutted out in front of her. Instinctively, Julie raised her hand to knock it away—and her hand grabbed on, and held on.

  She tugged at her hand. It continued to clutch the leaf.

  “Oh, no,” Julie whispered. This wasn’t a leaf from a tree. This was a leaf from a beanstalk, grown from the magic bean that Mom had tossed out the castle window! She felt her body move toward the stalk. Stop, stop, stop! Her body wouldn’t respond. Her foot lifted up and stepped down on a leaf stem, and she began to climb.

  Below her, Henry charged at the dragon. She heard the beast roar. No! She wasn’t supposed to be climbing the beanstalk! She was supposed to be searching the castle for the door to the wishing well!

  Controlled by the Wild, Julie scurried up the beanstalk as fast and easily as a spider on a web. Higher now, she looked out through the leaves and saw the castle. She was as high as the tops of the towers, as high as the banners that flew majestically in the wind.

  From one of the tower windows, a stream of wheat gold hair draped down over the stone. A man was climbing the hair. Dad. Dad was climbing to Mom.

  Julie’s hands and feet never slowing, she watched as her dad climbed in through the window. She saw her parents embrace, and she swallowed a lump in her throat. Had they forgotten themselves? Had they forgotten Julie? “Mom! Dad!” she yelled. “I’m here! It’s me, Julie!” The wind carried her words away. br />
  She wanted to cry. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way! The Beast and his creatures should have chopped down this beanstalk. Julie should have been able to sneak into the castle. She should have found the door to the well.

  Below her, the sounds of the dragon battle faded.

  It’s not over, she told herself. She wasn’t giving up. The Wild could only hold her during the fairy-tale moment. Once she reached the top of the beanstalk, she’d be free. She could find Northboro and reach the Wishing Well Motel via beanstalk, the same way she’d made it to Disneyland. She was not, not, not giving up, even if she’d lost her family, even if she’d lost everyone in the world. She still had a chance. When the Wild released her, she’d be free to act . . . at least until she met the giant’s wife and set off the next part of the story.

  After a few minutes more, Julie climbed through the clouds into sunlight. The tip of the beanstalk curled into a leaf. She jumped onto the clouds and then realized she had control of her body again—the fairy-tale moment was over.

  Julie shielded her eyes against the sun—it bleached the sky and reflected so brightly off the clouds that it stung her eyes. Across the clouds, she saw the giant’s castle, now coated in the ivy of the Wild.

  There was no trace of the battle that had taken place here just a little while earlier. She didn’t see any fabulous fairy-tale creatures. No elves, no trolls, no flying horses, no giants . . . There had to be giants. Better get out of here before one finds me, she thought.

  East. She needed east. Which way was east? She squinted as she looked toward the sun. Had the Wild changed it to morning or afternoon? Morning, she guessed. In the original Jack and the Beanstalk story, Jack climbed up the beanstalk in the morning, so it had to be morning here. She took off running in the direction of the sun.

  Her side began to cramp, but she kept running. East, east, east. Ahead, Julie saw a gap in the clouds. Reaching it, she dropped to her knees to look down at the Wild-covered world. Below, the deep green forest of the Wild stretched in all directions. She jumped up and ran farther. She spotted another hole and looked down. Same green. A third hole. Identical again.

  This was hopeless. It looked the same everywhere! How was she going to tell which part was Massachusetts, let alone Northboro?

  Catching her breath, Julie looked back at the giant’s castle . . . Wait a second, the giant’s castle! Maybe it had a door to the wishing well! But . . . how could she get to it? If Julie approached the castle, she’d meet the giant’s wife and set off the next fairy-tale event.

  She had a choice: she could try to guess the correct hole in the clouds and just as likely end up in Maine or Florida as in Massachusetts. Or she could deliberately walk into a trap. She could intentionally insert herself into a fairy-tale scene in order to get inside the castle. In the next part of Jack and the Beanstalk, Jack begged for food, and the giantess brought him inside and fed him. Once inside, she’d then have to find the door before the giant chased her down the beanstalk and ended the story.

  “Do I have a third choice?” she asked out loud.

  She couldn’t think of one.

  Julie started walking across the clouds. Was this stupid? Maybe. But if she went down the beanstalk to the wrong place, there were thousands of stories waiting to trap her. Here, there was only one. If she was quick enough and smart enough . . . It’s a good plan, she told herself. Dad had said she made good plans, like her mother.

  A drawbridge as wide as a highway lay across the clouds. It was held by wrought-iron chains so thick that she couldn’t have wrapped her arms around a single link. Reaching the drawbridge, she climbed up and walked down the wooden highway to the towering gate. She stared up at vast doors, carved from trees so large that they dwarfed redwoods. Gathering her courage, she raised her hand and knocked on the enormous door.

  The door opened with a whoosh of wind, and Julie found herself facing boots the size of her mom’s Volkswagen. The cracked leather was as craggy as a mountainside, and the laces were like steel cables. Looking up, she saw ankles with stubble as long as blades of grass. Even farther up, she saw the face of the giantess Gina, who was now restored to her original size.

  Julie felt her mouth move on its own. “Please,” she said. “May I have a bit of breakfast?” She recognized the line. It was the next scene in the Jack and the Beanstalk story. Too late to reconsider now, she thought. Please, let this work.

  “It’s breakfast you want, is it?” Gina said. Her voice boomed across the clouds. “It’s breakfast you’ll be. My husband is a giant, and he’ll eat you with toast if he finds you.”

  “Please, I beg of you!” Julie said. “Some food to eat!”

  “Very well,” the giantess said. “Come with me.” Gina welcomed her into the castle, and Julie’s body automatically followed.

  Inside the castle, she saw towering throne-like chairs at a massive stone table. On it were cobweb-coated candelabras as large as streetlamps. Above, she saw a vaulted ceiling with tattered bunting. On the walls were tapestries with pictures of knights and unicorns and princesses so faded that they looked like old black-and-white photographs.

  It had once been beautiful, she could tell. Maybe even glorious. But now . . . it all looked faded and tattered. Why hadn’t the Wild transformed it? What was it waiting for?

  She had an awful thought: was the Wild waiting for her?

  Gina laid a napkin the size of a blanket on the floor. On the napkin, she set a wedge of cheese twice as big as Julie. Julie felt her stomach rumble. A six-foot-tall slice of bread was laid next to the cheese. Her hand reached for a hunk of bread. She tore off a piece and brought it to her mouth . . . and abruptly the Wild released her.

  Julie jumped to her feet. This story bit was complete. The giantess had welcomed “Jack” inside and fed “him” breakfast. Now that Julie had tasted the bread, she was free. About to run, she hesitated. She should try to free the giantess too. “Gina, do you remember who you are?” she asked.

  The giantess smiled sadly at her. “Oh, yes, I remember it all: my home, my friends, my Jack . . . We were happy. We’d made our own happily-ever-after.” Her voice broke on the last word.

  “Great!” Gina was still free of the Wild too! “We’re between scenes, so you can escape now. You can come with me.”

  “Escape where?” Gina asked. “The Wild has spread everywhere, Julie. There is no escape.” She sighed. “Now that you are here, the story will end, and I will forget that I even wanted to escape. It is hopeless. I am tied to the Wild. I can never be free of it.”

  Yes, yes, the Wild was awful, but they didn’t have time to talk about it. Any second now, the giant would return, and the next scene would begin. Julie had already lingered too long. “Gina, I’m sorry,” she interrupted, “but have you seen a motel room door? Purple paint? Number thirteen in gold?” As she spoke, she looked across the banquet hall and saw an archway framed in ornate banners. Beyond it, doors lined a cavernous hallway. That had to be it! The motel door had to be there! In the story she’d told at Disneyland, the door was in a corridor. Without waiting for an answer, Julie sprinted across the banquet hall.

  “Are you looking for your brother?” Gina called after her. “He was here earlier, asking about the same door.”

  Julie stopped. Boots? Boots was here? He wasn’t caught in a tale? “Is he still here? Is he okay? Where is he?” Gina pointed in the opposite direction from the archway to a half-open door. “Thanks!” Julie said as she hurried under the massive stone table. She trotted toward the open door and climbed over the threshold. “Boots? Boots, are you in here?”

  Inside the room, she saw a mountainous shape, wreathed in shadows, rise from a chair. The giant! She scrambled out of the room as he began to shout. His voice echoed through the castle. “Fee, fie, foe, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishmun!” The torches quivered. Several shook so hard that the flames went out. Behind her, the banquet hall was plunged into shadow.

  “Be he alive or be he dead, I’ll gri
nd his bones to make my bread!”

  An orange streak darted toward Julie. It leapt at her and crashed against her chest. She stumbled backward as a ball of orange fur dug its claws into the front of her coat. “Julie!” Boots cried. “Get me out of here!”

  She hugged him. “Boots! What are you—”

  “Giant!” he shrieked. “Run!”

  Holding Boots, Julie ran across the banquet hall. The giant’s footsteps thundered behind her. With a sigh, Gina waved as Julie ran out onto the drawbridge.

  “Oh, no, not again!” Boots cried. Digging his claws into Julie’s shirt, he yowled. All of a sudden, something shiny and round shot out from his tail. It splatted onto the drawbridge.

  She slowed, glancing back, and saw an egg, a golden-shelled egg, now cracked open on the drawbridge. “Was that—”

  “Yes! I am laying golden eggs!” Boots yelped. “Do you have any idea how humiliating—”

  Julie nearly dropped him. He was laying golden eggs. In the Jack and the Beanstalk story . . . This was a trap! Behind her, the giant roared, “Thief! Return my cat who lays golden eggs!”

  “Run!” Boots shouted.

  Julie leapt off the end of the drawbridge onto the clouds. Instantly, a beanstalk burst up in front of her. With Boots cradled in one arm, Julie fought her own body as her hand grabbed onto a leaf and her feet jumped onto the stalk. No, she couldn’t be caught! She couldn’t leave the clouds! The door was here! It had to be! All she had to do was—

  She began to climb.

  “Stop, thief!” the giant shouted. “Return what you have stolen!” The beanstalk shook as the giant climbed on to chase her. She felt Boots’s claws dig into her shoulders as she climbed down faster and faster.

  This couldn’t be happening! She couldn’t be caught in a tale! She had to find the door! She had to reach the well! “Giant!” she called up. “I’m not a thief! My name is Julie, and I’m—”

  “Who you are doesn’t matter.” His words were so soft that she nearly didn’t hear them above the rustle of the beanstalk leaves. “You’re the one who is going to kill me.”