“Coward!” cried Maid Marian.
“He who lives and runs away,” said the sheriff as he hobbled down the hill, “may live to fight another day!”
Billy ignored the sheriff (who had finally done what Billy knew he would) and focused on the mouth of the cave.
Squirming and squealing, the mammoth sharkodile had wiggled halfway out of the A-shaped entrance.
D’Artagnan lunged at it with his sword.
The beast snapped the steel blade in half as easily as if it were a Twizzler.
Inch by inch, the growling sharkodile squeezed its massive body further and further out of the cave’s tight doorway.
“Watch out!” shouted Tom Sawyer. “That thing’s gonna pop!”
The sharkodile roared and, with one last gigantic grunt, muscled its way free.
“Quelle horreur!” screamed the musketeers as the beast rumbled forward.
The sharkodile took aim at D’Artagnan, the man who had poked at it with his sword. Snarling, it stretched its jaws open as wide as it could. Its teeth were glistening triangles the size of shovel blades.
But an instant before the sharkodile could crush D’Artagnan in its bear-trap jaws, Hercules shoved the young musketeer aside and hurled himself into the giant creature’s fearsome mouth.
Feet firmly planted between two razor-sharp incisors, Hercules pressed his hands against the ribbed roof of the monster’s humongous mouth to become a human wedge locking the beast’s chompers wide open. His arm muscles quivered. His tree-trunk legs shivered. Billy had never seen such a feat of pure bravery and strength. No wonder they made up myths about the guy, he thought.
“Robin?” Hercules grunted.
“Aye?”
“Can you hit this darkened tooth? The one closest to my left hand?”
“Aye, marry.”
Robin Hood let loose an arrow. It zipped through the air and struck a tooth that was as black as coal. The instant the arrowhead hit, the tooth popped out of the sharkodile’s mouth like a flicked kernel of dried corn.
The beast stopped snarling.
Hercules hopped out of the monster’s mouth.
Billy couldn’t believe his eyes.
The sharkodile actually seemed to smile. Then it started licking Hercules with its very long, extremely wet and sloppy tongue.
“It had a cavity,” said Hercules with a titter, because the sharkodile’s tongue was tickling. “Needed its tooth pulled. Is that not right, my friend?”
The sharkodile purred.
Feeling better than it probably had in eons, the sharkodile skittered back into the cave and scurried away.
“Yes!” said Billy and Walter triumphantly.
They slapped each other high fives and did a quick little end-zone dance.
“Huzzah!” shouted Hercules, Maid Marian, and Robin Hood.
Athos strode forth and extended his hand.
“Monsieur Hercules, we musketeers are in your debt. You have saved our newest brother, D’Artagnan. Therefore, you and your friends will forever be our brothers, too!”
“No more fighting?” said Hercules.
“Oui. Never again shall these four swords be raised against any of you.”
“Good friends,” proclaimed Robin, “let us abide in peace.”
“Indeed,” said D’Artagnan. “All for one …”
Now everybody shouted: “And one for all!”
Billy felt fantastic. His plan had, after a few false starts, actually worked. Not exactly the way he’d thought it would, but still.
“Don’t forget the treasure,” whispered Walter.
“Right.”
The two boys hurried over to Tom Sawyer. “Tom?” said Billy. “We were wondering. Are you busy later?”
He showed Tom Sawyer the slip of paper from the green bottle.
On this island, you shall find great treasure.
Tom grinned. “I knew it. I told them other boys there’d been pirates on this island before.”
“Do you know where they hid their treasure?” asked Walter.
“Oh, it’s hid in mighty particular places—sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, but mostly under the floor in haunted houses.”
“Is there a haunted house on this island?” asked Billy.
“I reckon there might could be.”
“Billy just has to read about one first,” said Walter.
“Huh?” said Tom.
“Never mind,” said Billy. “We’ll be back. Tomorrow.”
“Bring your shovels, boys. And grab a wheelbarrow, too. I wager we’ll find so much gold and silver and diamonds, you two can have pie and a glass of soda every day and go to every circus that comes to town.”
Billy couldn’t believe his good luck.
His mom and dad’s money problems were officially over.
All Billy had to do was find a book with a spooky old house in it.
Billy and Walter practically danced back to the clearing to pick up Alyssa, whose picnic with Pollyanna had turned into a tea party. The girls hugged good-bye with promises to do it again. Soon.
The whole boat ride back, they recalled the day’s amazing adventures.
“That was so much fun!” said Alyssa.
“But you can’t tell Mom or Dad,” Walter said to his sister.
Alyssa gave him a look. “Well, duh. Every kid knows that.”
Billy and Walter were still stoked when they docked the rowboat behind Dr. Libris’s cabin.
Until they saw Nick Farkas.
He was climbing onto his Jet Ski with a rolled-up booklet stuffed into his back pocket.
“What’s going on out there on the island, bird nerds?” Farkas shouted.
“Nothing,” said Billy. “Just, you know, birds.”
Alyssa took in a deep breath. “And—”
Walter cupped his hand over her mouth to muffle her.
“If there’s nothing going on out there,” cried Farkas, “how come you two doofuses keep going back?”
Billy shrugged. “We like birds.”
“Is that so? Well, I do, too.”
Farkas gunned his Jet Ski and, fumes spewing, blasted off across the water toward the island.
“Billy?” said Walter.
“Yeah?”
“Did you remember to lock the gate?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Because the last thing we want is Nick Farkas finding our treasure before we do.”
Billy was still feeling pretty great the next morning.
He already had some good ideas about books with haunted houses in them. Maybe The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson or anything by Edgar Allan Poe.
His mother, on the other hand, didn’t look like she felt so good.
They were having breakfast on the back porch. Pancakes, sausage, melted butter, real maple syrup. It should’ve been fun.
It wasn’t.
Instead, it was quiet.
The only sound was the dull scrape of plastic forks on paper plates as Billy and his mother pushed pancake wedges around in syrupy circles.
“So,” said Billy. “Walter and I had a blast out on the island yesterday.”
His mom looked up from her plate. Forced a smile.
“Great. What do you guys do out there all day?”
“Just goof off. Make up stories.”
“You’re good at that.”
“Goofing off? Mom, I’m the best.”
“I meant making up stories. You have a wonderful imagination.”
“Thanks. I guess I get it from Dad.”
And the frown was back.
“Why don’t you ask him about that when he comes up this afternoon?”
“What?”
“Your father called. There’s something he wants to talk to us about. Something ‘extremely important.’ ”
“He just dropped me off like four days ago.”
“I know.”
“Guess he missed us, huh?”
His mom didn’t
answer.
“I need you here,” she said. “When he comes.”
“No problem. We’ll postpone the treasure hunt.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing.”
Billy decided not to tell his mother about the message in the bottle until after he and Walter struck it rich.
“Finished with your breakfast?”
“Sure. I guess.” Billy handed her his plate. He’d only eaten half of one pancake but he’d lost his appetite for any more.
Something was up.
Something bad.
“Your father will probably get here around three.”
“Okay,” said Billy.
“If I need you sooner, I’ll blow the boat horn.”
“The what?”
“I found it in a kitchen cabinet. The label claims you can hear its blast a mile away.”
“Awesome,” said Billy, putting on a big smile—which his mother didn’t return. She just carried the wilting paper plates into the kitchen.
As soon as the screen door squeaked shut, Walter and Alyssa padded into the backyard.
Walter looked even more worried than Billy’s mom.
He was carrying a thin library book.
“Uh, Billy? We have a problem. A giant problem.”
THE THETA PROJECT
LAB NOTE #323
Prepared by
Dr. Xiang Libris, PsyD, DLit
Friends and colleagues: we continue to make incredible progress.
In fact, so much is happening so quickly, I feel compelled to relocate from my remote observation post to my secure lab on the island.
Now, more than ever, I feel confident that our research will soon make us all very, very rich!
“I shouldn’t even go out to the island today,” Billy said to Walter as they tossed their life jackets into the rowboat. “My dad is coming to visit this afternoon. My mom is totally bummed.”
“Well, I’m sorry,” said Walter. “But hello? The giant from Jack and the Beanstalk could be over there. Lives are at stake.”
Billy shook his head. “Why’d you let your sister bring a book like that out to the island?”
“I didn’t know she had it. It was in her backpack.”
“You should’ve inspected her bag. Like they do at airports.”
“Alyssa didn’t do this, okay? This is Pollyanna’s fault! She’s the one who read the book out loud.”
“Hey, lame-o’s!” Nick Farkas was on his dock chugging a two-liter bottle of soda. “You heading back to library camp?”
“What?” said Billy.
“On the island. I checked it out yesterday. Met some goofy dork dressed up like Jack from Jack and the Beanstalk. Seriously infantile. Just your speed, Waldo. You too, Weedpole.”
Great.
Farkas had seen Jack.
Billy worked the oars.
Walter jammed his asthma inhaler into his mouth. Forgot to pump it.
“You can’t blame Pollyanna,” Billy continued when they were halfway across the lake. “She’s not really real.”
“Okay. Fine. Pollyanna’s not real. But you are, Billy Gillfoyle. And you’re the one who opened up this black hole pathway into a parallel universe.”
“For the last time, whatever it is, it is not a black hole. Those only exist in the vast vacuum of space. We are not in the vast vacuum of space.”
“Well, we might as well be!” squeaked Walter.
“I agree.”
“Good.”
“Pump your inhaler.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Billy and Walter reached the island, still annoyed with each other.
They hiked silently up the path, unlocked the gate, stepped into the clearing, and found themselves standing in an elongated ditch filled with X-shaped mounds lined up in tidy diagonal rows.
The trench had to be seven and a half feet long, maybe three feet wide, and two feet deep.
“What the …,” said Billy, staring at the ground and doing some quick mental math.
Walter started wheezing again.
“Uh-oh,” said Billy.
He’d just figured out that he and Walter were standing in a humongous boot print. The kind you’d leave behind if you were, oh, fifty feet tall.
Billy shook his head. “Jack’s giant is huge.”
“Oh, goody! I’m so glad you boys came back.” Pollyanna waltzed out from the underbrush. “Did you bring Alyssa?”
“Sorry,” said Walter, still staring down at the footprint that was ten times bigger than Bigfoot’s. “Not today.”
“Are you okay?” Billy asked Pollyanna. “Did you see the giant?”
“Oh, yes. He’s so surprisingly different. I love creatures who are surprisingly different, don’t you?”
“Not really,” said Walter. “Not when they’re giants.”
“So where’s everybody else?” asked Billy.
“Off on their next adventures, I suppose. Except, of course, the Sheriff of Nottingham. He’s still here.”
“No,” said Billy, “the sheriff ran away.”
“He said he was going to London,” added Walter.
“Golly,” said Pollyanna. “I guess he was telling you boys a big, fat fib.”
Billy remembered the sheriff’s parting words: “He who lives and runs away may live to fight another day!”
His mouth felt extremely dry. “So, uh, where’s the sheriff?” he asked Pollyanna.
“Well, earlier, I saw him slinking around on his stallion. He was nailing new ‘wanted’ posters on every tree he could find.” Pollyanna pulled a poster out of her wicker basket. “It’s ever so much longer than the first one.”
WANTED
DEAD OR ALIVE
(PREFERABLY DEAD)
ROBIN HOOD
HIS MERRY PERSON HERCULES
MAID MARIAN
MR. THOMAS SAWYER
AND, MOST URGENTLY,
SIR WILLIAM OF GOAT,
HE WHO DIDST CAUSE ME
TO BE CRIPPLED
—THE SHERIFF OF NOTTINGHAM
“Oh, woe is me!”
A young boy in tattered red shorts and a torn red vest slogged out of the forest, a crumpled red elf hat in his hands.
“I think that’s Jack,” said Walter. “I recognize him from the pictures in Alyssa’s library book.”
“He looks ever so sad,” said Pollyanna. “We should play the glad game with him!”
“First things first,” said Billy. “Um, Jack?” He waved at the boy. “Got a second?”
The boy seemed startled.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Do you live in the village?”
“No. But, Jack, we need to stop your giant from squishing everything and everybody on this island. You need to chop down your beanstalk.”
“I do? Oh, fiddlesticks!”
“Sorry,” said Walter. “It’s in the book. I’ve read it to Alyssa a hundred times.”
“So, where’s your beanstalk?” asked Billy.
“Why, it grows in the garden—right where my poor widowed mother tossed my magic beans.”
“And where exactly is your mother’s garden?”
“Right outside our kitchen window.”
“Great. Where’s the kitchen?”
“Inside our humble hovel of a home.”
“Stars and stockings, Jack,” said Pollyanna. “Billy needs to know where you live!”
“Come on, you guys,” said Walter. “Take it easy on Jack. He’s from a book for preschoolers.”
“Hear the cow moo,” said Jack. “Moo, cow, moo.”
“Take us to your house,” said Billy very slowly. “We can help you chop down the beanstalk.”
“When it ‘quivers and shakes from the blows your ax makes,’ ” said Walter, reciting a memorized verse, “the giant will ‘tumble down and break his crown.’ ”
“Oh, no. I cannot chop down my magic beanstalk. For I have not yet found the goose that lays the golden eggs
. My mother and I need at least a dozen golden eggs to live happily ever after.”
“And I need to be home in a couple hours because my father is coming up to the cabin for a surprise visit and my mother won’t eat her pancakes.”
Jack blinked a lot. “Pardon?”
“Never mind. It’s complicated. But there’s not going to be any ‘ever after,’ happily or otherwise, if we don’t stop your giant from crushing everybody on this island—including you!”
Billy and Walter followed Jack up a winding trail that led them deep into the forest.
Pollyanna didn’t go with them. She had to take a jar of jelly to somebody named Mrs. Snow. Apparently, Mrs. Snow lived in a parallel parallel universe. Billy figured once you started adding impossibly sideways staircases to your world, you could do it all the way to infinity.
“I spy my house!” cried Jack when they reached a tiny whitewashed cottage near a sunlit field filled with haystacks. A thick green beanstalk, its trunk the size of an oak tree’s, grew in the backyard.
“Great,” said Billy. “Go grab an ax and we’ll—”
Suddenly, the earth started to tremble. Billy nearly toppled over.
“Fee, fi, fo, fum …”
Billy looked up. He had to crane his neck way, way back to take in the enormity of what he was facing.
Jack’s giant was over fifty feet tall. His head, which was kind of small for his body, cleared the tops of the tallest trees and nearly scraped against the wire mesh dome. He had a bowl-cut hairdo and breathed through his mouth so heavily drool dribbled off his rubbery lips to puddle on the ground below. His belly jiggled with every step he took. So did most of Jack’s farm.
Billy, Walter, and Jack ducked behind a haystack.
The giant bent down and plucked the thatched roof right off the top of Jack’s tiny cottage.
“Where are you, little thief?” droned the giant. “I can smell you.”
He took two enormous sniffs, his swollen nose working like a blubbery bellows to suck up straw and dust with each huff.
“Oh, dear,” whispered Jack.
“What?” said Walter.
“Yesterday, my mother was sacking black pepper for the miller man and—”
“A-a-a-choo!”
The giant was seized by an enormous sneeze.
The hot blast hit the haystack like a typhoon and sent straw flying. The three boys were blown backward in a snotty wind tunnel, right out into the open.