Alosha (6 page)

“You want to sleep now?”

“Yeah. It's been a long day. Do you mind?”

Cindy did not mind. They got ready for bed and turned out the lights. As Ali snuggled in her blankets on the floor, she thought again of the bamboo stick. Of all the places it could have been, it had been right there to save her life. It was almost as if someone who could predict the future had placed it there.

But that was impossible.

Of course, so were monsters.

Sometime during the night, she dreamed.

She was in another world where there were no buildings or roads, no signs of civilization. And all the trees and grass and streams glowed with faint green radiance, as if filled with a magical light. Simply to open her eyes and bask in the light made her happy.

The most amazing part, however, was a group of floating islands in the sky. There were three or four straight overhead, and she could see dozens in the distance. They were inverted mountains: flat on the top, long and narrow on the bottom, covered with massive sheets of white snow. They drifted with the wind; solid clouds that never faded with the seasons.

Just by willing it she was able to lift off the ground and fly up to these islands. A movement of her hand one way, a bending of her fingers another, and she could change course and speed. The feeling of freedom filled her with joy. She was a bird, she was a human, and she was greater than both put together. More an immortal angel possessed of power and wisdom, with all the world and heavens to play in.

Yet on the horizon, far away, even in this enchanted realm, she saw a shadow. A growing shape of disease that could spread if not stopped, and consume all in its path. That darkness had a name—
Shaktra
.

It seemed to mock her as she flew above the world, higher even than the floating islands. It challenged her to not leave, but to remain and fight. To die if necessary, so that the magical realm could live and prosper. The Shaktra welcomed the battle with her, for it believed it could not be defeated.

And that, she understood, was why she had been born a girl.

T
he next morning, while walking back to her house, Ali ran into Karl Tanner. He had a paper route; he was up early every morning. Occasionally—if she was up herself—she waved to him as he went by. Last week she'd made him hot chocolate, and put it in a paper cup that he'd squeezed into the cup holder on his bike. He seemed to like that.

She thought he liked her but was not sure. A quiet person, Karl was the smartest guy in the school. Last year he had gone all the way to the National Spelling Bee. Yet he seldom offered an opinion on anything. She liked that about him—the strong silent type thing.

Except when it came to her.

He was definitely handsome. Tall, with thick blond hair, he had blue eyes
so piercing she imagined they could slice bread. He had muscles—he played on the school football team. Yet his manner attracted her more than his looks. He appeared
deep
. Of course she hardly knew him; it was possible that nothing of any importance went on inside his head.

“Hi!” Ali waved to him as he rode by. “Nice morning.”

She had read that the weather was always a safe topic when it came to guys. Karl halted beside her. He had on a brown coat, and his cheeks were red from the morning air. His blond hair was longer than usual; she imagined that he had not cut it all summer.

“What are you doing up so early?” he asked.

“My dad's out of town and I slept at Cindy's.” She added, “Her snoring would wake bigfoot!”

That wasn't very subtle, she thought.

Yet bigfoot was on her mind. A few minutes after waking that morning she had decided to try to get proof of his existence. The footprints should be there. The creatures wouldn't have stopped to brush them away. All she had to do was put together a team and find a decent camera. Why not invite Karl along?

Karl smiled briefly and offered her a newspaper. “This way you don't have to dig it out of the bushes,” he said.

“You never throw it there. You're a good shot.” If she was going to ask his help, she thought, she needed to hurry. He looked anxious to be on his way. She added, “I sure could have used a good shot yesterday.”

“What happened yesterday?” he asked.

She told him the whole story. This guy she liked but didn't know that well—she poured out her guts to him. He listened closely, no longer in a hurry to leave. Halfway through the story, she realized how much she was trying to impress him, and she hated that about herself, but it didn't stop her. She went on and on about how calm she stayed while she was buried under the avalanche.

When she finished, he stood silently.

“What do you think?” she had to ask.

“You want to go back up there today and take pictures?”

“Yes. Cindy and I.” She hesitated to bring up Steve. Karl and Steve were
not the best of friends. She added, “Want to come? It could be the story of the century.”

“Where exactly did you see these creatures?”

She described the area. “You know where I'm talking about?”

“Yes. That's high up. Can you go tomorrow?”

“We could. But the footprints would be fresh today. Also, it might rain again. I would hate to have them wash away. No one would believe me then.” She wanted to ask: do you believe me? But was too shy. She added, “I guess we could wait for you.”

“I have to help my dad at the factory right now.” Karl's father owned a light fixture factory. The Tanners were the only rich family in town. Karl always wore the best clothes. He didn't need the money from his paper route, his father just wanted him to learn a work ethic. Karl continued, “I'll be busy until two. That wouldn't give us enough time to get up there and back. I think you're right, the footprints might not last. You and Cindy should just go.”

Ali smiled. “You're not afraid bigfoot might eat us?”

“You have to be careful.” His toyed with his bike pedal. “I better get going. Let me know what you decide. Leave a message on my phone. You have my number?”

“Yes.” She hated to see him go, but supposed she had kept him long enough. “Karl?”

“Don't talk about it, I know. I won't, Ali. You can trust me.”

“I do trust you. That's why I told you.”

Ali went to Steve Fender's house next. Steve lived on her block, eight houses up. She had met Steve before she had met Cindy. He had stuck out his tongue at her. She had returned the favor. They had been three years old.

Steve had a difficult home life. His father came and went; it was hard to say which time was better. When he was at home, his dad yelled at Steve's mother and drank until he couldn't walk. But when he was away they both missed him.

Steve was short, slightly round. His idea of a good time was to go for doughnuts. He could eat four at once, with coffee. He was a coffee freak. He
would go online and order strange brews from South America. Ali had to admit they were usually tasty.

Steve was an amateur astronomer. From memory, he could name a thousand stars in the night sky. He had made his own telescope; he had even ground the mirror by hand. He was also a genius with computers. He could hack into almost anybody's system, even big corporations. But he was not a jerk who secretly wrote virus software and tried to spread havoc. He did not abuse his talents, although he was not above playing games with friends. He once sent Ali an e-mail that loaded a program onto her computer that made everything she typed into the machine translate into Latin. For a while she had actually started to learn the language.

Ali was not sure if Steve's father was at home. Because she didn't want to run into the man, she didn't knock. Going around the side of the house, she peeked her head in Steve's bedroom. Like Cindy the day before, he was asleep on his back with his mouth open. She knew he liked her, in a girl-boy sort of way. Not that he would ever admit it.

“Wake up sleepy boy,” she said gently.

Steve opened his eyes, looked at her, and rolled over, turning his back to her. “Come back in three hours,” he mumbled.

Ali climbed into the room. It was messy but not as bad as Cindy's. She sat on the edge of his bed and spoke to his back. “We're going to get famous today,” she said.

“I don't want fame. I want money.”

“The two go hand in hand. Turn around, wake up. Yesterday I got attacked in the mountains by three bigfoots. Cindy and I are going back up there today to photograph their footprints. You're coming with us.”

Steve rolled over and wiped his sleepy eyes. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. Let me tell you what happened.”

He struggled out of bed toward the door. “I need some coffee first.”

Steve returned fifteen minutes later with two cups of coffee. By then he had put on his pants and brushed his teeth. She sipped her coffee. It was scalding hot and tasted good going down.

“Talk,” he said.

She told him the whole story, not leaving out the parts where she got scared and started crying. He interrupted a few times to ask questions—like how did she know there were three bigfoots and not one?—but otherwise he listened quietly.

“You want to take pictures of the prints?” he said when she was done. “That won't prove anything. With all the graphic programs available, people will say we faked them.”

“I want to use the pictures to get the police to go up there.”

“Sheriff Mackey eats the same breakfast as me. Only he's a million doughnuts ahead of me. He huffs and puffs getting out of his patrol car. There's no way you'll get him to hike up there to look at footprints.” Steve added, “Plus he doesn't like Cindy and me.”

“Why not?”

“We toilet papered his house last Halloween.”

“Lots of people get their house papered on Halloween.”

“Yeah. But Cindy put the paper too close to his jack-o'-lantern. The candle lit it on fire. The paper burned a weird design on his walls. It looks like a naked woman.”

“I saw that! You never told me you did that!”

“We didn't want anyone to find out. But Sheriff Mackey suspects us.”

Ali shook her head. “I can't believe you guys kept that secret from me.”

“We all have our secrets, Ali.”

She tried not to be offended. “Why doesn't the sheriff paint over the burns?”

“I think he likes them. But I know his wife doesn't. That's the main problem. Anyway, back to your footprints.”

“Wait a second. You believe me, don't you? About what happened?”

“I think so.”

“That's not a very strong yes.”

“I just woke up and you're telling me about bigfoot. I have to adjust. Yeah, okay, I believe you.”

“You better,” Ali said.

“Sounds like a threat.”

“Not at all. Will you come with us?”

“Sure. I have a camera we can use. It's the same one I use on my telescope. I have film. We can develop the pictures as soon as we get back. But if we can, we might want to print the film in another town, maybe over in Tracer. If Sheriff Mackey
does
go up there with us later, he'll try to steal all the credit.”

“Who will we show them to?” she asked.

“Let's worry about that when we have something to show.”

“Okay.” She knew right then that he didn't really believe her.

Three hours later they were at the spot where she had ditched her bike. It had taken them longer to get started than Ali had wished. Cindy had been impossible to get out of bed, and then Steve had struggled on his bike up the steep road. He was out of shape. For lunch, he had brought a bag of doughnuts and a thermos filled with coffee.

The roadblock was still in place, minus its cardboard sign. None of them cared one way or the other—chances were they wouldn't see any lumberjacks.

They hid their bikes in the bushes and started to hike through the woods. Ali led the way, with Steve in the middle, Cindy taking up the rear. It did not take long to reach the spot where she had foolishly dumped her sweater. She was sure it was the right place.

But the sweater was gone.

“You might be confused,” Steve said. “The forest looks the same all around here.”

“No. I was here. Someone took the sweater.”

“The lumberjacks don't come this way,” Cindy said.

“Bigfoots don't wear sweaters,” Steve added.

Ali pointed to the ground. “Look, you can see my footprints.”

Steve and Cindy examined the ground.

“Yours are the only footprints here,” Steve said.

“I'm not lying,” Ali said.

“He's not saying you are,” Cindy said. “But if you left your sweater here, who took it?”

Ali sighed. “It's possible the bigfoots took it out of curiosity.”

“When we refer to more than one bigfoot, shouldn't we call them bigfeet?” Cindy asked.

“Oh brother,” Steve said.