03 - Three Odd Balls (21 page)

I gave up and yelled a “Thank you,” over the racket.

Leslie waved her duster attachment at me. Or maybe she was brandishing her duster attachment at me.

No matter. I had other fish to fry. Or at least other Coochies to annoy. I stepped back to the porch and gazed at the Song of the Sea.

***

But just my luck, just when I needed them most, the Coochie brothers had abandoned their porch.

No matter. I scavenged my flip flops from underneath my chair and moseyed down the garden path.

“Hello-o,” I called out as I got closer to the Song of the Sea. “Knock, knock,” I sang.

No answer. And no music.

I called out another greeting, climbed the porch steps, and knocked. Again, no answer.

I glanced backwards. Leslie had turned off her vacuum cleaner, but she was still in Paradise. I told myself she was busy cleaning the bathroom, and creature of habit that I am, I tried the Coochies’ door. And creature of habit that I am, I assumed it would open.

Imagine my chagrin when it did not. Indeed, the stupid thing was locked. Of all the inconvenient—

“What the hell are you doing?”

I jumped ten feet in the air and almost fell off the porch. Erasing the cringe from my face, I forced myself to turn around. This time it wasn’t Wilson’s questions I would have to answer, it was Leslie Coochie’s.

But for some reason I had lost my zeal for interrogations. I waved nonchalantly, and with as much dignity as I could muster, made my way down the porch steps and onto the pathway.

In a most disconcerting role reversal, Leslie stood her ground and blocked my progress, and I felt like a recalcitrant fourth grader. “Were you looking for something?” she asked.

“Oh, no, no, no,” I said all breezy-like. “I just thought I’d say good morning to your cousins.”

Leslie continued to stand her ground.

The only way around her was to venture off the garden path and into the surrounding brush. I cleared my throat and did so, and with nary a backward glance, beat a hasty and embarrassed retreat.

***

“Bee Bee.”

I stopped short at my porch steps.

“Bee Bee.”

I perked up my ears and heard it a third time. Off in the distance. Back behind Paradise. I looked toward the Song of the Sea to see if Leslie heard it also, but she had already disappeared inside.

“Bee Bee.”

There it was again! Bee Bee had found his way home! Or at least close to it.

I quick ran inside and scanned the room for the binoculars, but then remembered Wilson had them. Muttering a four-letter word, I ran back outside and straight into the jungle behind our bungalow. In fact, I had taken several giant steps into the wilds before something tickled my toes and stopped me dead in my tracks.

I glanced down at my feet. What was I doing? And why in the world was I doing it in those stupid sandals?

While I frowned at my flip flops, something stung my shoulder. I swatted at it frantically and managed to stumble a few more steps backward into the wilderness before I could stop myself. I took a deep breath and planted my feet firmly in the—I looked down again—firmly in the whatever. That plant, which I swear was wrapping itself around my bare ankles, was not poison ivy, was it? Hawaii doesn’t even have poison ivy, does it?

Oh, for Lord’s sake! Who the heck knew! And who the heck knew how I had managed to get myself so far out into the jungle in shorts, a tank top, and those stupid, stupid flip flops. Making sure not to move any farther into said jungle, I looked up and located the backside of Paradise. So close, and yet so far…

“Eeeee—”

My head jerked to attention. What was that?

Okay, so it took me a moment to realize the high-pitched whining had been coming out of me.

I cleared my throat, and decided it was time for some deep breathing. I did so and again focused my attention on Paradise.

The bungalow wasn’t that far away. Why, it was practically right there in front of me. I would simply take ten or twenty careful, cautious, and well-placed steps, and soon I would be back in civilization. It would be easy. I would start right awa—

“Bee Bee.”

I put my foot back down and recollected what had gotten me into this predicament in the first place. Bee Bee was out there. Bee Bee needed me.

Courage, I told myself, and harkened back to something Louise had mentioned earlier. If Delta Touchette could face Urquit Snodgrass, barefoot and dressed in nothing but a leaf, surely I could hunt for Bee Bee dressed as I was? Especially if I kept Paradise within sight.

Feeling downright heroic, I held my position and scanned the treetops. I even managed to squeak out a few “Bee Bees.”

Nothing.

I was turning to face the opposite direction when some movement near my right knee caught my eye. I glanced down at a mass of moss-covered, rotting, vegetative who-knows-what. The thing was swarming with ants.

Oh. My. God.

I screamed bloody murder and likely would have fainted of my own accord, but something hit me from behind and expedited the process.

My last conscious effort was to fall to my left—away from the ant hill from hell.

Chapter 22

“Wake up.”

Huh?

“Wake up!” The voice behind me grew more impatient, and something—maybe an elbow—jabbed into my ribs.

“Huh?” I mumbled.

“Wake! Up!” This time he was really irritated, and the voice sounded familiar. Sort of.

“Wilson?” I whispered.

“Chris. Jessie?”

“Chris?” Okay, so maybe this wasn’t the most compelling of conversations. But considering how my head felt, I think I was doing quite well, thank you.

With Chris—Christopher Rye?—encouraging me and harassing me, I finally did wake up. I lifted my head, and with much fluttering of eyelids, eventually managed to get my eyes open.

For what that was worth. Wherever I was, it was almost pitch black.

As I continued to return to consciousness, I took stock of my position. I was sitting in some sort of gravel, with my legs outstretched in front of me and my hands tied behind my back—tied to someone else’s hands.

“Chris?” I asked again. “Where are we? Are we actually tied up together?”

“Like, duh. Would you wake up already?”

“Okay, okay.” I tried to squirm into a more comfortable position. “I’m awake now, so answer me.”

“Yes, we’re tied up together,” he answered. “And I don’t know where we are, but I’m guessing this is Pele’s Prison.”

“The cave?” My voice cracked. “The one you and Wilson never found the other day?”

“We’re in deep shit, Jessie. I think we’ve been kidnapped.”

“By the murderer?” I squeaked.

“No, by Santa Claus.”

I took a deep breath and attempted another perfectly reasonable question. “How did we get here?”

“I have no idea how you got here. Santa’s sleigh?”

I rephrased the question. “Okay, how did you get here? Elves, reindeer, what?”

Chris backed down a bit and in a much less snippy tone assured me it probably hadn’t been elves. “I was getting out of the shower this morning, when I heard that bird calling,” he said. “I threw on some shorts and sneakers and ran outside to find him.”

“And let me guess. He lured you farther and farther away from your bungalow.”

“Yep.”

“And into the wilderness.”

“Yep.”

“And then someone knocked you unconscious.”

“You, too, Jessie?”

I recollected the ant hill and shuddered accordingly. “Something like that,” I mumbled. “But it wasn’t Bee Bee we were hearing, was it? It was the killer pretending to be Bee Bee.”

“Bee Bee.”

We both jerked forward in our separate directions, quite effectively tightening the ropes that held us together.

“Let’s not do that again,” Chris suggested wisely.

I blinked into the darkness, which was beginning to lighten to a dull grey as my eyes adjusted. “Bee Bee?” I called out.

“Bee Bee,” Bee Bee answered.

“Bee Bee?” I repeated.

He responded again, and we went back in forth in yet another less than compelling exchange until Chris finally interrupted us. “I see him over here.” He paused. “Oh, my God.”

“Oh my God, what?” I asked.

“He’s hobbling around, Jessie. I think he’s hurt.”

Okay, so I might have started crying.

“Do not start crying.”

“I am not crying,” I argued. “I’m just breathing a little funny.”

“Yeah, right,” Chris said, but I noticed he was breathing a little funny, too.

“That’s just sick,” he said eventually. “Hurting an animal like that.”

“Let’s keep talking to him.” I swallowed hard and forced myself to speak up. “Bee Bee likes it when people talk to him. Don’t you, Bee Bee?”

“Bee Bee,” he answered, and I swear he did sound a bit perkier.

I continued reassuring the bird and explained in a highly upbeat voice that Louise and Wilson were out searching for him. “They’ll find you, Bee Bee. And then they’ll find us.”

“But first they have to find Pele’s Prison,” Chris interjected.

“Prison,” Bee Bee repeated.

I ignored the pessimism and continued, “And once we’re all rescued, we’ll take you to the vet—”

My voice caught at the mention of veterinarians—Bee Bee was injured, Wally was injured. I blinked back my tears and kept going, “We’ll take you to the vet, and you’ll be good as new. We’ll all be good as new.”

“Good as new,” Bee Bee agreed bravely.

“Good as new,” Chris chimed in, and the three of us repeated our new mantra several times.

Bee Bee hobbled over towards me, and dim light or no, I tried to see what ailed him. He was staggering, but his wings were perfectly aligned, and I saw no blood. “I don’t think he’s injured,” I concluded. “I think he’s just really disoriented.”

“Aren’t we all,” Chris muttered.

I practiced some more deep breathing and asked Chris to tell me about Pele’s Prison.

“You want the good news or the bad news?”

I considered my options. “How about both?”

“The bad news is this cave is really hard to find unless you know what you’re looking for.”

“And the good news?”

“We’re not too far from the beaten path. Supposedly Pele’s Prison is right off the main trail.”

“Excellent!” I said. “So all we need to do is scream for help.” Wasting no time, I began screaming for help.

Bless his heart, Bee Bee caught on and commenced screeching. This was going to work! Some hiker somewhere would surely hear the racket and rescue us at any moment.

I screamed away, “Help! Help!” until a very sharp jab in my ribs shut me up. It took a few more seconds to calm down Bee Bee.

“You guys didn’t wait to hear the rest of the bad news,” Chris said once everyone was quiet again. “Pele’s Prison has this weird echo-chamber. All the trail guides mention it. Once inside, no one can hear you from the outside.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a natural phenomenon. Hawaii has lots of those.”

“Excuse me?” I repeated. “That is the stupidest natural phenomenon I’ve ever hear of. Who comes up with this stuff anyway? It’s like we’re in La La Land.”

“Maybe, but it’s probably why Santa Claus didn’t gag us.”

“So screaming won’t help?” I asked.

“La La Land,” Chris said.

“La La Land,” Bee Bee confirmed.

I rolled my eyes, and some amorphous specter to my upper left caught my attention. At least it can’t be an ant hill, I told myself. And stupid me, I glanced up to get a clearer view.

And that’s when I blacked out for the second time in one day.

Chapter 23

Chris and Bee Bee were still discussing the many-splendored natural phenomena of La La Land when I came to. I ignored them and hazarded another glance upward at my very own natural phenomenon. Yep, there really was a spider web up there. And, honey, I do mean spider.

I stared at it, mesmerized and aghast, and tried to convince myself it’s the teeny-tiny spiders one had to be cautious of. But the big guys? The big, gold, glow-in-the-dark, hairy jobbies, like this one poised directly over my left breast? They were never, ever poisonous. Right?

But then again, what did I know? It was entirely possible that I was looking at the queen mother of all the poisonous spiders of the South Pacific. Nay, the queen mother of all the poisonous spiders in the world!

I shuddered like I have never shuddered before.

“What’s wrong?” Chris asked.

“Spider,” I squeaked, and that’s when I noticed what Ms. Huge and Hairy had trapped in her extensive web.

A bug. Oh, but that’s putting it mildly. This was a bug to beat all bugs. This guy was about the size of my fist, and boasted a rainbow of colors that rivaled the loudest of Wilson’s Hawaiian shirts. Indeed, this bug was a veritable smorgasbord of purples, greens, yellows, and oranges. He was a living flashlight, for Lord’s sake. And he was writhing in agony as Ms. Huge and Hairy crawled, or whatever it is that spiders do, over to eat him.

Needless to say, I shuddered again.

“It’s just a spider,” Chris said. “Do us all a favor and forget about the heebie jeebies, will you? And will you stop it with that annoying whine?”

Oops. Dare I say I was emitting that high-pitched “Eeeeee” sound again?

I swallowed the next stanza. “It’s my heebie-jeebie hum,” I said. “I don’t even know I’m doing it.”

“Fantastical,” Chris muttered as Ms. Huge and Hairy took a few self-satisfied gulps of bug flesh.

“We are all going to die,” I concluded.

“Thanks for the positive vibes, Jessie. Really helpful.”

“Listen, I do not know what’s happening on your side of this hell-hole,” I argued. “But over here we have an apocalyptic scene of Biblical proportions going on. The largest spider on planet Earth is devouring the largest bug on planet Earth. And when Ms. Huge and Hairy is done with her current snack, one can only assume she’ll set her sights on me!” I shut up in order to allow the cold sweat to start flowing.

“Oh, my God,” Chris said. “There’s one of those bugs over here, too. It looks like the shirt Dad was wearing yesterday.”

“La La Land,” Bee Bee added helpfully, and I let out a sob.

“Come on, Jessie.” Chris tilted his head back in order to touch mine. “Try to get a grip, okay? Dad told me you’re a gardener, right? And gardens have bugs, right?”