Xander and the Lost Island of Monsters (23 page)

We creep toward the cockpit. It's pretty dark, because the moon hasn't risen yet. For all I know, there isn't even a moon in oni central. Outside, the wind whistles over the metallic shell.

Finally my eyes adjust. No skeletons. Just suitcases stuck in the overhead bins, some on the floor, more on the seats. All is still, thank goodness.

I put my hands on the seat backs as I make my way forward, as if I'll fall otherwise, even though the plane's not moving. I don't want to trip on any creepy-crawlies. My head almost hits the ceiling, and the seats seem too close together. “At least we can sit in first class.” My voice echoes through the chamber.

“Yeah. Finally, some leg room.” Jinx stops short so suddenly that I bump into her. “Hey. I wonder if there's any food in here.”

My stomach jumps in revolt. “Ew. If there was, it'd be way too old. Rotten and moldy.”

“Only one way to tell.” She hunches down like a monkey and scampers toward the galley. The darkness and the close quarters don't bother her at all. In a second, she's banging open cabinets and drawers.

A distant boom shakes the jet. I hold on to the seat backs. “What was that?” I call to Jinx.

“Just the volcano burping.” She emerges with a little flashlight and tosses it to me.

I grip it like I'm holding a cross against vampires. “Thanks.”

I shine the light around the cabin. No oni hiding out. At least, not as far as I can tell. The suitcases and bags are unopened.

“But don't use the light too much. Something might see it.” Jinx hands me a bag. “Chips.”

I shine the light on the expiration date. “Um, five years ago. Don't eat these.”

Jinx is already crunching away. “Too late.”

I turn off the flashlight and open my netsuke box. “How about a rice ball?”

She flops down in one of the big first-class seats. “Nah. I'm kind of tired of those.”

“Me, too, but they beat expired chips.” I pop a grain into my mouth and chow down as it expands into a full rice ball. Some kind of veggie filling—not my favorite, but better than nothing. I remove the sword in its sheath from the harness on my back and sit down across the aisle from her.

Jinx tosses her empty bag onto the floor. “Let's just get some sleep.”

I think, uncomfortably, of that big red
X
marking the plane. “Shouldn't we keep watch or something?”

“Do what you want.” Jinx turns away from me. “We'll hear if something tries to break in. Probably.”

“I'll take first watch, then.” I remind myself that
I
am the Momotaro, not Jinx. She's opinionated, but I'm kind of supposed to be the leader. I move to the window seat and look outside.

Nothing but blackness. Black sky, black desert. No shadows moving around—to my relief.

I really, really hope Peyton and Inu are okay.

I shut my eyes and try to imagine them safe and warm someplace. Maybe in a big tree. A tree that's a regular tree, not a monster-type tree.

And Dad. My dad is safe and warm, too. I imagine him behind his desk at home, sipping tea out of his
Star Trek
mug with Mr. Spock painted on it, books cracked open and papers over every surface. He looks thinner than I remember, and a bit grayer, but it is my father. He scribbles furiously on a legal pad, writing long columns of Japanese characters.

So, all these years, was he really researching how to defeat the oni? What did he find? Why didn't he share his knowledge with me? It seems like he should have started training me when I was, oh, three years old.

In his study, I see the Momotaro comic on his desk. I'm there in the room with him. “Dad?” I run over, grip his arm. My hand passes through him. He keeps on working.

This is a dream. Again. Darn it.

I look over his shoulder and read what he's writing. Suddenly the Japanese characters, which have always appeared to be chicken scratches to me, move and form words I can recognize.

He is here, Xander. He is here. Be careful.

“Here?” I look around the study. “Who's here?” But my father still can't see me, doesn't seem to realize I'm standing right next to him.

He sighs and swivels his chair to gaze out his window. I do, too.

The Pacific Ocean ripples in a vast sapphire expanse. The same as the day we left.

“Oh no,” I breathe. “Dad, what happened?”

I glance back at Dad. His chair is empty.

And I realize then that he was the ghost, not me.

The ocean is still covering California, and my father's not rescued. I've failed. I'm going to fail.

“Dad!” I shout. I sit up, grab the headrest in front of me. I'm on the plane. Phew. It was only a dream—another extremely intense dream.

Who's here?

A sense of unease shakes me around the ribs. Nobody's here. We're alone. I'm just nervous about this adventure. Nothing more. It's not real. I hope, after all this is over, I can actually get a good night's sleep for once.

Speaking of which, I wonder if Jinx is asleep. I was supposed to be on guard. Shoot.

There's some light coming in through the windows now—enough to show me that Jinx's seat is empty. I turn on the flashlight and shine it down the length of the plane. No Jinx. I see that the door's open a crack. I make my way outside.

“Jinx?” I whisper into the wind.

I hear movement on top of the plane, near the embedded nose.

She is perched on top, staring at the sky.

I can see why.

The sky is no longer black. It is lined with lemon-yellow crackled clouds that are punctured with orange-colored holes. Through these holes stream funnels of crimson light that plunge straight down to the horizon. From there, light bounces back up and zigzags across the sky in shades of deep blue and royal purple. The colors shift and change, fading in out, as if some celestial being is controlling this really awesome light show.

I sit next to Jinx. “Wow,” I breathe.

She sniffles. “I thought you were asleep.”

I glance at her. Her face is sopping wet with tears. She catches my eye and turns away, embarrassed. Well, I don't like it when people see me crying, either. I pretend like she's not. “I woke up. Thanks for taking my shift.”

“No problem.”

“Is this like the aurora borealis or something?” I've never been far north enough to see the northern lights.

“Not really. It's all the weird gases from the volcano and the oni and their energy.” Jinx gulps audibly. “You wouldn't happen to have a tissue, would you?”

“Nope.”

“Drat.” She uses the hem of her T-shirt to wipe her nose. “Oh well. It's already dirty, right?”

“Yeah.” Now I steal another look at her. Her upper left arm has some kind of mark around it, like a rope burn. I touch it gently—the flesh is indented. “Oh my gosh, Jinx, what happened?”

“Eh. No biggie. I hurt myself opening the door.” She laughs. “Some clumsy monkey I am.”

I wonder how that injury could have happened by opening a door. But maybe it was even simpler and she feels dumb about it. Like the time I was running to get my popcorn out of the microwave and tripped on a rug and split my forehead open on a table edge. I told my grandmother I was running because I thought the microwave was on fire.

I shiver, rocking back and forth on my bare feet. “It's cold out here. Want to go back in?”

“Just wait.” She points at the sky.

The colors swirl together now, all separate bands, undulating back and forth and up and down from the ground. They swell into a big sphere, and then, like a miniature multicolored sun, they finally melt into one another until all becomes black once more.

I lean back on my hands. “That was awesome.”

“Yeah. Now we should get inside.” She starts to scramble down, but winces with a sharp inhale.

I shine the flashlight on her wound. The mark looks like a combination deep bruise and light burn. “Ouch, Jinx. That's bad.”

“Yeah. But really, I'm okay.” She shoots me a smile that I can tell is fake.

I have an idea. “I'll be right back.” I slide off the plane and run back inside to the galley. I open cupboards until I find it. Sure enough, there's a big white box with a red cross on the side. I open it, take out a roll of gauze, and go back out to Jinx. “Let's wrap it. It'll feel better.” I hold up the gauze.

“Yeah, yeah.” She grabs the gauze from me and begins wrapping her own arm. “I can do it faster by myself.”

I let her. Just when I think we're starting to become friends, she proves me wrong.

Suddenly the gauze drops from her fingers. She bends to pick it up and it falls again, then flies upward like a demented moth and wraps itself around her head.

“Xander!” She claws at the cotton. “Help!” The gauze flies around and around her face as if it's possessed.

I rip at the gauze. It doesn't feel like cotton now; it feels as substantial and muscular as a snake. Oh no. My sword's inside the plane.

Determined not to let it hurt Jinx, I grab the end of the gauze and jump off the top of the aircraft, hoping it'll come with me.

Instead, Jinx falls down with it still wrapped around her.

Whoops.

We land in the sand, Jinx on her back, and me beside her in a crouch. She sticks her hands in between her neck and the gauze, between her mouth and the gauze, leaving herself some breathing space.

Nothing's working. I race inside to get my sword, wishing I hadn't been sitting all the way up by the cockpit.

Then I hear that inhuman,
un-animal
shriek.

“Itsumade!”

Oh crud.

I grab my sword and run back out.

The demon bird is hovering over Jinx, who is still wrestling with the possessed gauze. The bird swoops down and lets out a puff of fire.

I
leap toward the bird, my sword swinging before I can even think about what I'm doing.

I'm too late.

As I leap, the fire catches the gauze and, like a candlewick, it goes up in flames.
Poof.

I scream and pierce the bird's chest with the sword.

The demon bird falls over.

“Jinx!” I fall to my knees, sure that she's gone.

Her face is covered in black ash. My heart sinks.

Then she coughs and spits and wipes her face. “Ugh. Really? An
ittan-momen
. I swear, we have the worst luck.”

“You're okay!” I clap my hand on her shoulder. “You're not burned?”

“No. The itsumade just got the ittan-momen. That oni actually saved my life.”

“Ittan-momen?”

“That, believe it or not, is cotton that tries to suffocate you.” Jinx stands, brushes sand off her legs. I must be giving her a stupid, openmouthed look, because she laughs in spite of herself. “You should see the expression on your face.”

I shake my head. “But why did the itsumade help? I didn't know—I thought it was burning you alive.” My heart skips. “Was I not supposed to kill it?”

“No, you had to.” She points to it, lying limp on the ground. “
Itsumade
—the word it screams—means
How much longer?
” She walks over to it, begins scooping handfuls of sand over its body. “These things were people who died in a famine, thousands of years ago, in ancient Japan. They never got put to rest properly, and they turned into these nasty critters.”

“Oh.” That seems particularly horrible.

“All it wanted was a resting place.” She pushes more sand on top of it. “And you gave it one.”

I help her bury the monster.

“You're not freaked out?” Jinx asks.

I don't stop working, digging into the sand up to my elbows. “I'm mostly sorry for it. Poor oni bird who used to be a person thousands of years ago.”

Jinx sits back on her haunches, panting from the effort. “You know what, Xander? You're not as bad of a Momotaro as I thought.”