I couldn’t guess. But I had no choice. The steps were my only chance of escape.
I leaned against the wall and plunged down the stairs. My shoes slid on the smooth stones.
I nearly tripped and went sailing head first. But I grabbed the wall and steadied myself as I started to fall.
The stairs curved down. Down.
The air grew hot and sour. I held my breath. The air smelled like sour milk.
A strange, deep moan rumbled up from down below.
I stopped to catch my breath.
Listened hard.
The low moan rolled up the stairway again. A whiff of sour air invaded my nostrils.
I turned back. Was I being followed? Had the counselors seen me escape through the open door?
No. It had been too dark. I didn’t hear anyone on the stairs. They weren’t following me.
What smelled so bad down below?
I wanted to stop right there. I didn’t want to climb down any farther.
But what choice did I have? I knew they’d be searching for me upstairs.
Leaning a hand against the stone wall, I made my way down.
The stairway led into a long, narrow tunnel. I could see pale light at the end of it. Another deep moan rumbled in the distance. The floor shook.
I took a long breath and passed quickly through the tunnel. The air grew hot and damp. My shoes splashed through puddles on the tunnel floor.
Where does this lead? I wondered. Will it take me back outside?
As I neared the end of the tunnel, a whiff of sour air made me choke. I coughed and struggled to stop my stomach from heaving.
What a disgusting smell!
Like decayed meat and rotten eggs. Like garbage left out in the sun for days and days.
I pressed both hands over my mouth. The odor was so strong, I could taste it!
I gagged. Once. Twice.
Don’t think about the smell! I ordered myself. Think about something else. Think about fresh flowers. Think about sweet-smelling perfume.
Somehow, I calmed my stomach.
Then, pinching two fingers over my nose to keep the odor out, I stumbled to the end of the tunnel.
I stopped as the tunnel gave way to a huge, brightly lit chamber.
I stopped and stared—at the ugliest, most frightening thing I had ever seen in my life!
25
Squinting into the bright light, I saw dozens of kids with mops, and buckets, and water hoses.
At first, I thought they were cleaning off a giant, purple balloon. Bigger than any balloon in the Thanksgiving Day parade!
But as the water sprayed over it and the mops soaped its sides, the balloon let out a loud groan.
And I realized I wasn’t staring at a balloon. It was a creature. And the creature was alive. I was staring at a monster.
I was staring at King Jellyjam.
Not a cute little mascot. But a fat, gross, purple mound of slime, nearly as big as a house. Wearing a gold crown.
Two enormous, watery yellow eyes rolled around in his head. He smacked his fat purple lips and groaned again. Hunks of thick, white goo dripped from his huge, hairy nostrils.
The disgusting odor rolled off his body. Even holding my nose couldn’t keep out the sour stench.
He smelled like dead fish, rotting garbage, sour milk, and burning rubber—all at once!
The gold crown bounced on top of his slimy, wet head. His purple stomach heaved, as if an ocean wave was breaking inside him. And he let out a putrid burp that shook the walls.
The kids—dozens of them—worked frantically. They circled the ugly monster. They hosed him down. Scrubbed his body with mops and sponges and brushes.
And as they worked, little round objects rained down on them. Click. Click. Click. The little round things clattered to the floor.
Snails!
Snails popping out through King Jellyjam’s skin.
I started to gag again when I realized the hideous creature was sweating snails!
I staggered back into the tunnel, pressing my hands over my mouth.
How could those kids stand the horrible, sour stench?
Why were they washing him? Why were they working so hard?
I gasped when I recognized some of the kids.
Alicia!
She held a hose with both hands and sprayed King Jellyjam’s bulging, heaving stomach. Her red hair was soaked and matted to her forehead. She cried as she worked, bawling loudly.
I saw Jeff. Rubbing a mop up and down on the monster’s side.
I opened my mouth to call to Alicia and Jeff. But my breath caught in my throat, and no sound came out.
And then someone came running toward me. Stumbling and staggering. Into the tunnel. Out of the bright light.
Dierdre!
A dripping sponge in one fist. Her streaky blond hair drenched. Her clothes wrinkled and soaked.
“Dierdre!” I managed to choke out.
“Get away from here!” she cried. “Wendy—run!”
“But—but—” I sputtered. “What is happening? Why are you doing this?”
Dierdre uttered a sob. “Only The Best!” she whispered. “Only The Best get to be King Jellyjam’s slaves!”
“Huh?” I gaped at her as she trembled in front of me, shivering from the cold water that had drenched her.
“Don’t you see?” Dierdre cried. “These are all winners. All six-coin winners. He gets the strongest kids. The best workers.”
“But—why?” I demanded.
Snails popped through the creature’s skin and clicked as they hit the hard floor. A wave of sour stench blew over us as another rumbling burp escaped his swollen lips.
“Why are you all washing him?” I asked Dierdre.
“He—he has to be washed all the time!” Dierdre exclaimed with a sob. “He has to be kept wet. And he can’t stand his own smell. So he gets the strongest kids down here. And makes us wash him night and day.”
“But, Dierdre—” I started.
“If we stop washing,” she continued. “If we try to take a rest, he—he’ll eat us!” Her entire body shook. “He—he ate three kids today!”
“No!” I cried, gasping in horror.
“He’s so disgusting!” Dierdre wailed. “Those horrible snails popping out of his body… that putrid smell.”
She grabbed my arm. Her hand was wet and cold. “The counselors are all hypnotized,” she whispered. “King Jellyjam has total control over them.”
“I—I know,” I told her.
“Get out of here! Hurry!” Dierdre pleaded, squeezing my arm. “Get help, Wendy. Please—”
An angry roar made us both jump.
“Oh, no!” Dierdre wailed. “He’s seen us! It’s too late!”
26
The monster let out another roar.
Dierdre loosened her grip on my arm. We both turned toward him, shaking with fright.
He was bellowing at the ceiling, roaring just to keep everyone terrified. His watery yellow eyes were shut. He hadn’t seen Dierdre and me—yet.
“Get help!” Dierdre whispered to me. Then she raised the sponge and ran back to her place at King Jellyjam’s side.
I froze for a moment. Froze in horror. In disbelief.
Another rumbling burp jolted me from my thoughts and sent me scurrying through the tunnel. At least now I knew why the camp ground shook so often!
The sour stench followed me through the tunnel and back up the curving, stone steps. I wondered if I could ever get rid of it. I wondered if I could ever breathe freely again.
How can I help those kids? I asked myself. What can I do?
I was too terrified to think clearly.
As I ran through the darkness, I could picture King Jellyjam smacking his gross purple lips. I could see him rolling his yellow eyes. And the ugly black snails squeezing out through his skin.
I felt sick as I reached the top of the stairs. But I knew I didn’t have time to worry about myself. I had to save the
kids who had been forced to be the monster’s slaves. And I had to save the rest of the kids in camp—before they became slaves, too.
I poked my head out of the closet door. The four torches still burned at the front of the small theater. But the room was empty.
Where were the counselors? Out searching for me?
Probably.
Where can I go? I asked myself. I can’t spend the night in this closet. I have to breathe some fresh air. I have to go somewhere where I can think.
Carefully, I made my way out of the low igloo. Into the starless night. Hiding behind a wide tree trunk, my eyes searched the woods.
Narrow beams of white light from flashlights darted through the trees, over the ground.
Yes, I told myself. The counselors are searching for me.
I backed up, away from the crisscrossing lights. Trying not to make a sound, I crept between the trees and tall weeds, toward the path that led to the lodge.
Can I get to the dorms and warn everyone? I wondered. Will anyone believe me? Will there be counselors guarding the dorms? Waiting for me to show up?
I heard voices on the path. I ducked behind a tree and let two counselors pass. Their flashlights made wide circles over the sloping hill.
As soon as they were out of sight, I darted out from the trees. I ran down the hill. Keeping in deep shadows, I made my way past the swimming pool. Past the tennis courts. All dark and silent now.
A clump of tall hedges beside the track would hide me from all sides, I realized. I ducked behind the hedges, gasping for breath. Dropping to my knees, I crawled into their shelter.
I settled myself on the prickly pine needles beneath the hedges. And peered out. Only darkness now.
I took a deep breath. Then another. Such sweet-smelling air.
I’ve got to think, I told myself. Got to think…
Shouting voices startled me awake.
When had I fallen asleep? Where was I?
I blinked several times. Sat up and stretched.
My body felt stiff. My back ached. Every muscle ached.
I gazed around. Discovered I was still hidden inside the hedges. A gray, cloudy morning. The sun trying to burn through the high clouds.
And the voices?
Cheers?
I raised myself up and peered through the hedges.
The track competition! It had just begun. I saw six boys in shorts and T-shirts, leaning forward as they ran around the track. A crowd of kids and counselors cheering them on.
And in the lead?
Elliot!
“No!” I cried hoarsely, my voice still choked with sleep.
I stepped out from the hedges. Made my way across the grass toward the track.
I knew I had to stop him. I couldn’t let him win the race. I couldn’t let him win his sixth coin. If he did, they’d make Elliot a slave, too!
He ran hard. He pulled far out in front of the other five.
What could I do? What?
In my panic, I remembered our signal.
My two-fingered whistle. My signal for Elliot to take it easy.
He’ll hear the whistle and slow down, I told myself.
I raised two fingers to my mouth. I blew.
No sound came out. My mouth was too dry. My heart thudded in my chest. I tried again. No. No whistle.
Elliot turned into the last lap. There was no way to stop him from winning now.
27
No way to stop him—unless I beat him there!
With a desperate cry, I plunged forward and started to run to the track.
My shoes pounded the grass. I kept my eyes on Elliot and the finishing line as I ran. Faster. Faster.
If only I could fly!
Loud cheers rang out as Elliot neared the finish. The other five boys were miles behind!
My shoes thudded onto the asphalt track. My chest felt about to burst. It hurt to breathe. My breath came in loud wheezes.
Faster. Faster.
I heard cries of surprise as I raced over the track. I plunged up behind Elliot, reached out both hands—and tackled him from behind.
We both toppled in a heap, rolling over the hard track, onto the grass. The other boys raced past us to the finish line.
“Wendy, you jerk!” Elliot screamed, jumping to his feet.
“I—can’t explain now!” I shouted back, struggling to breathe, struggling to stop the aching in my chest.
I scrambled to my feet and pulled Elliot up. He angrily tried to jerk free. “Why’d you do that, Wendy? Why?”
I saw three counselors running toward me.
“Hurry—!” I ordered my brother. I pulled him away. “Just hurry!”
I think he saw the terror in my eyes. I think he realized that tackling him was a desperate act. I think he saw how serious I was.
Elliot stopped protesting and started to run.
I led him over the grass. Up the sloping hill by the lodge. Into the woods.
“Where are we going?” he called breathlessly. “Tell me what’s happening!”
“You’ll see in a minute!” I called back. “Get ready for a really bad smell!”
“Huh? Wendy—have you totally lost it?”
I didn’t answer. I kept running. I led the way into the woods. To the igloo-shaped building.
At the low entrance, I turned back to see if we were being followed. I didn’t see anyone.
Elliot followed me into the theater. The torches weren’t lit. It was pitch-black inside.
Feeling my way along the back wall, I found the closet door. I pulled it open and led the way down the curving stairs.
Halfway down, the sour odor floated up to greet us. Elliot cried out and cupped both hands over his nose and mouth. “It stinks!” His cry was muffled by his hands.
“It gets worse,” I told him. “Try not to think about it.”
We jogged side by side through the long tunnel. I wished I had time to warn Elliot. I wished I could tell him what he was about to see.
But I was desperate to save Dierdre, Alicia, and the others.
Gasping from the smell, I burst into King Jellyjam’s brightly lit chamber. Water from a dozen hoses splashed over the monster’s purple body. Kids scrubbed furiously as he sighed and groaned.
I saw the startled horror on my brother’s face. But I couldn’t worry about Elliot now.
“Hit the floor!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, cupping my hands into a megaphone. “EVERYBODY—HIT THE FLOOR! NOW!”
I had a plan.
Would it work?
28
The monster’s watery yellow eyes grew wide with surprise. His bloated lips parted. I could see two pink tongues dart and coil inside his mouth.
A few of the kids dropped their hoses and mops and flattened themselves on the floor. Others turned to stare at me.
“Stop washing him!” I cried. “Put down your hoses and brushes! Stop working! And hit the floor!”
Beside me, Elliot uttered gasping sounds. I glimpsed him struggling to keep the sick smell from overpowering him.
King Jellyjam let out a furious roar as the rest of the kids obeyed my instructions. Thick, white slime dripped from his nose. His two tongues flicked out between his purple lips.
“Get flat!” I screamed to the kids. “Stay down!”
And then I saw the monster raise a fat purple arm. With a disgusting groan, he leaned over. His slimy flesh rippled all over his body as he reached out.
Reached out to grab Alicia!
“Help! He’s going to eat me!” Alicia shrieked. She started to get up.
“No!” I shrieked. “Stay down! Stay flat!”
With a terrified cry, Alicia dropped back to the floor.
King Jellyjam swung his fat hand down. Fumbled it over her. Tried to lift the little girl up. Tried again. Again.
But I had figured right! The monster’s fingers were too big, too clumsy to pick up anyone who lay flat on the floor.
King Jellyjam tilted his head back and uttere
d a roar of disgust.
I cupped my hand over my nose as the disgusting odor grew more intense. Snails pop-pop-popped out of his skin. Rolled down his slimy body. Bounced noisily onto the floor.
The monster flailed his arms. He leaned down again and struggled to pick up some other kids.
But they pressed themselves flat on the floor. He couldn’t lift them.
He roared again, weaker this time. His eyes rolled wildly in his enormous head.
The smell burned my eyes. It swirled around me, surrounded me in its sour stench.
King Jellyjam grabbed for a hose. Couldn’t pick it up. He slammed his hand into a bucket. Struggled frantically to splash water on himself.
I stood trembling. Watching every move.
My plan was working. I knew it would work. It had to work!
The stench grew even stronger. I could taste it. I could smell it on my skin.
King Jellyjam flailed both arms. Frantically, he struggled to wash himself.
His roars became groans. His body began to shake.
I gasped as he narrowed his eyes at me. He raised a swollen purple finger and pointed. Accusing me!
He leaned forward. Reached out.
Swiped out his enormous hand.
I couldn’t move. I was too stunned.
I shuddered.
His hand slid over me. And before I could struggle, he began to tighten his slimy, stinking fingers around my body.
29
“Ohhh.” I uttered a horrified moan.
The fat, wet fingers tightened. Waves of odor rose up around me.
I held my breath. But the smell was everywhere.
The fingers wrapped themselves tighter.
The monster began to lift me off the ground. Raise me toward his gaping mouth. The two tongues darted and flicked.
And then the tongues drooped over his purple lips.
The fingers loosened their grip.
I slid free as King Jellyjam groaned and fell forward. Kids rolled quickly out of the way. King Jellyjam toppled over headfirst.
The gold crown bounced away. The monster’s body made a loud splat as it spread over the floor.
“Yes!” I choked out happily. I was still shaking, still trying to forget the slimy feel of his fingers against my skin. “Yes!”