The Mapmaker and the Ghost (13 page)

“Run!” she yelled to Birch, as she grabbed her jar and shears and started to sprint after him through the trees.

They had a decent head start, but Snotshot was still hard on their heels. Birds flew with startled cries, and leaves and twigs snapped away in their paths as they tried to make their escape.

When Goldenrod allowed herself one peek behind to see just how far away their pursuer was, she was startled to instead be staring at a see-through maroon coat.

“Meriwether!” she yelled, still continuing to run. Meriwether didn't seem to have a problem gliding beside and matching her speed, though he looked just as dignified and unruffled as ever.

Out of the corner of her eye, Goldenrod could see that Snotshot was gaining on them. “Why don't you do something?” she said in exasperation to the ghost.

“Like what?” Meriwether asked.

“I don't know. You're a ghost! Go scare her,” Goldenrod said.

“Oh,” Meriwether said. “That
is
a good idea. Unfortunately, I'm not that kind of ghost. You're the only one who can see me.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you're the only one on the quest to find my lost discovery,” Meriwether said.

“Seriously?” The breaking twig sounds from behind Goldenrod seemed to be getting closer and closer. “But you've discovered loads of other things,” she said. “What could possibly be so special about this one anyway?”

“It saved my life,” he said simply. Goldenrod could see him motion to his leg, the one with the limp. “And I have no doubt that it can save countless others too.”

Of course! The limp must have come from that time
when Meriwether had been mistakenly shot by one of his own crew members. And hadn't Goldenrod just seen with her own eyes what the rose could do with an injury?

Goldenrod had become so absorbed in these thoughts that she hadn't noticed Birch slowing down considerably. Even though he had started out pretty far ahead, he was right beside her when he looked at her fearfully and asked, “Who are you talking to, Gol—” His question ended in a scream as he was jerked back.

Goldenrod looked over her shoulder to see that Snotshot was holding on to his backpack and, a moment later, his arm.

Goldenrod stopped running immediately. “Let him go!” she yelled.

“Yeah, right,” Snotshot said, not sounding nearly as out of breath as Goldenrod felt. “I guess I shouldn't be surprised that big moron let you guys escape.”

Birch had started to whimper, and Goldenrod stared at him helplessly.

“So what's the deal, girlie?” Snotshot asked. “Are you going to come quietly or are you going to just let me take your brother back with me?”

“Don't leave me alone with them!” Birch yelled.

Of course, she couldn't do that. But she couldn't very well just merrily let both of them get kidnapped again either. What kind of Legendary Adventurer would go along with that?

“What do you want?” she finally asked Snotshot. There was really nothing else to do but be straightforward at this point.

“You're not very bright, are you? Didn't I just say you have to come back to the cave with me?” Snotshot asked slowly, as if speaking to a particularly stupid puppy.

So never mind. Being straightforward didn't seem to be the correct option with someone like Snotshot. Goldenrod was going to have to answer her own question.
Think
, she willed herself and then asked,
What does Spitbubble's crew
actually want?
“Money!” she suddenly blurted out. “You want money, don't you?” she said as she thought about what she knew of Toe Jam's coin.

“Sure. Do you have some? I've got no problem unloading it off of you as soon as we get you locked away, safe and sound,” Snotshot said.

“No. I know a way you can make some money.”

“By holding you for ransom?” Snotshot retorted.

Goldenrod hesitated one moment longer. She didn't particularly like what she was about to do, but she couldn't see any other way out of this mess. “There's this plant,” she finally said. “It's undiscovered flora …,” she trailed off.

“What are you talking about?” Snotshot asked.

“What are you doing?” a voice asked from beside her. She turned around to see that Meriwether was still standing there. She had almost forgotten about him.

“You want your plant to get discovered, don't you?” she asked wearily.

“Not by them!” he said emphatically. His face had finally slipped from its quiet, dignified mask and was looking rather panicked.

“Well, I need to rescue my little brother!” Goldenrod said, irritated. “And unless you have a better idea, this is the only way I can think of.” Honestly, between not being able to scare anybody off and not being terribly useful helping them out from the clutches of Spitbubble's crew, the ghost
was starting to get on Goldenrod's nerves—even if he
was
the spirit of her all-time hero.

Meriwether was silent and Goldenrod turned back around in time to see Snotshot ask Birch incredulously, “Is she talking to herself?”

Birch gave a shrug but looked considerably more nervous than before.

“Look.” Goldenrod decided to start over again. “It's an undiscovered flower, and it's very rare. It has special properties.” She glanced down at her finger, the one that she had cut on the thorn. “Healing properties, I think.”

She heard a very small pop beside her and knew that Meriwether had vanished. She was a little sorry to have offended him, and she was very sorry not to be able to complete her mission and claim the discovery for herself, but what choice did she have? At the end of the day, Birch just mattered more.

“So I'm pretty sure it's worth a lot of money,” Goldenrod concluded. “And I can tell you where it is, if you just let both of us go.”

Snotshot and Birch both stared at Goldenrod. Her brother looked confused and still quite scared. His captor looked as if she was thinking—which was at least a good sign that she was considering the offer.

“And what if you're lying?” she finally asked Goldenrod. “What then?”

“If I'm lying, I really have no doubt you'll find a way to hunt both of us down,” Goldenrod said wisely.

“You bet I will,” Snotshot snarled, looking pretty pleased with this assessment of herself.

Goldenrod nodded. “And that's why I'm not lying. The flower in question is also close by, so just in case it's not exactly where I say it is, you could probably chase us down anyway.”

The girl considered a moment more. “Fine. It's a deal, but—”

“But I also need to know that you'll actually let us go,” Goldenrod said firmly. “I need to trust you.”

Snotshot scowled a little, but then gave one curt nod. “I'll keep my word.”

Goldenrod had nothing to go on but her instincts, but just then, she chose to believe the dirty, older girl. She held out the jar and the gardening shears in front of her. “Let Birch go, and I'll give these to you and tell you exactly where it is.”

Snotshot let go of Birch's arm, and he immediately ran over to Goldenrod's side. Goldenrod took the few steps to where Snotshot was and handed her the jar and shears. She then told her exactly where to find the blue rosebush.

“You can't miss it,” Goldenrod said. “It's bright, bright blue, and if you smell it, it won't smell like any flower you've ever smelled before. But you have to get it today. It only
blooms for three days every fifty years, and today is the last day. When you cut off the flowers, you'll need to seal them in the jar. They'll remain in bloom for one week if you make sure the lid's airtight.”

Despite everything, Snotshot at least looked like she was paying attention. If nothing else, maybe the flower would still find its way into the next edition of
The Encyclopedia of North American Flora and Fauna.
Though it didn't make Goldenrod too happy to think of Snotshot's sneering picture next to it.

“When you have it,” Goldenrod continued anyway, “take it to a botanist or scientist, okay? They'll know what to do with it.” For a moment, she considered warning her about the razor-sharp thorns, but then decided she didn't particularly owe the older girl all of her information. “Just be careful with it,” she said. “It's very valuable.”

“A flower, huh?” Snotshot asked.

“Yes,” Goldenrod said.

“Fine,” Snotshot said. “And you won't tell anybody about anything you saw or heard here. Especially this … it never happened. Or I will find out, and I will come get you.”

Birch looked terrified, but Goldenrod just gave a short nod. Then she grabbed his hand and, without looking back once, they ran.

Birch ran with wild, almost joyous abandon. Finally, finally they were on their way back home.

He couldn't quite believe how perfectly Goldenrod had engineered their escape, even though he had witnessed it with his own eyes. But then again, he should know better than to doubt his sister—his brilliant, wonderful sister.

True that he didn't quite know what she meant with the whole flower business, and he still wasn't sure what was up with her talking to herself. Though, if he had to be honest, Goldenrod had always been a little eccentric. Then again, it could have all been a part of her grander scheme. And it had worked, hadn't it?

Of course it had! And wouldn't it just be for the best if he ignored the fact that she seemed to be muttering to herself even now? Birch stole a side-glance at Goldenrod as he
continued to run alongside her and then decided to turn his attention elsewhere.

Like on how fine everything was. His sister wasn't crazy. They were going to get out of these woods perfectly safe and sound. And he, Birch Awl Moram, was going to happily spend the rest of his summer vacation relishing the boredom. He was going to wade in boredom until his fingers got pruney and never attempt anything as ridiculous as an adventure again.

He could almost see the edge of the woods now. He started to run faster toward the beautiful, unfiltered light, toward certain freedom.

Then, he heard the sound of snapping twigs and a drawling voice laughing almost directly to his right. Goldenrod must have heard it too because Birch immediately felt her grab his backpack and pull him down behind a bush.

They had been only moments away from running smack dab into Toe Jam and No-Bone.

No-Bone was sweating. He had used the fifty dollars he'd weaseled out of that supremely gullible chiropractor to buy a camel-colored faux-leather jacket. It was entirely too hot to be wearing it, but he thought it looked too cool to take it off. He had never had anything like it when he was traveling with the circus or at the orphanage afterward. He
particularly liked the way it stretched along with him as he maneuvered his body into all of its impossible positions.

No-Bone had a very vague recollection of his dad owning a leather jacket similar to it. It was one of the few pictures he could conjure up in his mind of his parents, both sitting atop a shiny, chrome motorcycle. It's possible the image in his head was from the morning before the accident. Or maybe his imagination had just dramatized it in that way.