Over the Darkened Landscape (16 page)

He didn’t feel like he’d been asleep too long when the light came on again. Michael groaned and covered his eyes, then sat up, expecting that his mother was poking her nose in to tell him something of marginal importance. But when he managed to open his eyes to a squint he saw that the door was still closed. But he could hear something rustling around at the edge of his bed.

Before he could react to the noise a large rabbit poked its head up down by his feet, then with a huff it hopped up onto the covers, followed by an over-sized frog. Both were wearing clothes, the rabbit in tie and tails, the frog wearing a yellow waistcoat and a bowler hat. Except for the fact that they were three-dimensional and very real-looking, they were exactly as F.M. Davies had imagined them in his illustrations for the books: James Jackrabbit and Culpepper Frog, in the flesh.

Michael searched for but couldn’t find his voice. Culpepper Frog hopped over and sat on his pillow, then reached up and gently tapped him on the cheek. “You’re awake, kid. This ain’t a dream.” The frog’s voice was low and raspy, with something of a Chicago accent. And it smelled
musty
, which was a surprise; he would have expected it to have a moist odor, like a pond. Like Happy Lake, however that smelled.

James Jackrabbit hopped over and settled in on Michael’s legs, its weight feeling very real. “What’s your name, son?” asked the rabbit. It also had an accent, from New England, Michael supposed.

“Um, it’s Michael.” He wanted to jump out of bed and run, but with the rabbit sitting on him he was scared to move.

The rabbit smiled at him, an eerie, unsettling sight that looked even more unnatural than the fact that it was wearing tie and tails and was proportionally not at all like a real rabbit. “Nice to meetcha, Mike.” It—he—shuffled up and sat on Michael’s stomach. “I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, but as I remember my manners, I’m James Jackrabbit, and this is my compatriot, Culpepper Frog.”

Culpepper tipped his hat and also smiled. His teeth were flat and white, very much like a human’s.

“I’m . . . pleased to meet both of you,” replied Michael. He closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath, but only managed a series of slight gasps, he was shaking so hard.

James Jackrabbit arched an eyebrow and smiled again, this time at Culpepper Frog. “He’s a polite one, ain’t he?”

“That he is,” agreed the frog. “It’s nice to come back to a polite kid, Michael.” He stood on his hind legs and peered into Michael’s face. “But ain’t you a little bit old to be needing us?”

Michael blinked his eyes. “Needing you? What do you mean?”

James Jackrabbit tut-tutted. “Culpepper, he may be a little older than our last friend, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t need help.”

“Help?” Michael was beginning to feel stupid, but before he could ask more, the door swung open and in lumbered a bear on its hind legs with a crow on its shoulder. The bear was a smallish grizzly—although it still had to duck its head and turn sideways to come through the door—and wore checkered knee-length shorts, and while the crow wore no clothes, it chewed on an unlit cigar. Randall Grizzly and Cameron Crow, joining James Jackrabbit and Culpepper Frog in Michael’s bedroom.

“There ain’t nobody else in the house,” said the bear, his deep voice a rumble that penetrated right to Michael’s heart. “Kid’s all alone.”

“Where’s your folks, kid?” asked the crow; he had a New York accent and while he talked held his cigar between two wing feathers that he worked like fingers.

The frog reached over and grabbed a picture of Michael and his mother from his bookshelf and waved it at the others. “There’s no father in this photograph, fellas,” he said.

Michael finally managed to find his voice. “My dad’s gone. We don’t hear from him too much. Mom’s at work tonight, doing overtime.” He looked to James Jackrabbit. “Listen. Can I get up and get myself a drink?”

“Absolutely, kid,” answered the rabbit, hopping down to the floor.

Michael got up and pulled his housecoat over his pyjamas, shuffled out to the kitchen and got a tall glass of water, added a couple of ice cubes that he chipped out of the frost-ridden freezer compartment, then went into the living room and sat down on the couch, letting the kitchen light spill in rather than reach overhead to turn on the lamp. All four animals sat on the floor in a semicircle in front of him. He took a long drink, gasped when he was done, and sat there looking at them, turning the glass in his fingers and rubbing at the condensation forming on the bottom.

“I can see that you’ve decided we’re real,” said James Jackrabbit.

Michael nodded.

“It must be pretty scary having the lot of us just pop up the way we did.”

“I would say . . .” Michael’s mouth was suddenly too parched to talk, so he took another drink. “I would say that it wouldn’t matter just
how
you popped up. I’d still be freaked out.”

All of them chuckled at this. Then James hopped up onto the couch and sat beside him. “And yet we’re here.” He was smiling.

Michael smiled back, nodded. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

James clapped a paw on his shoulder. “So in that case, let’s settle down and figure out why you called us here.”

Michael took another swallow of water. “But I didn’t call you here. You just showed up.”

“Kid, we’ve been flat and dry for a long time now, and the only way for us to come back out is to be called.”

“But I
didn’t
call you. I picked up some used copies of the books about you guys and read a couple before I went to sleep, is all. Just wanted to remember what it was like.”

Culpepper hopped up and sat on the other side. “What
what
was like, kid?”

Michael hung his head, feeling a little embarrassed. “Um . . . being younger, when I didn’t have any worries.”

“Ah.” All of the animals nodded.

“Are you saying you just got these books today?” asked Cameron Crow.

Michael nodded. “At a rummage sale.”

James sat up straighter. “Randall, go get the books from his room.”

The bear ran and fetched the books, dropped them in a stack on the couch beside James. “Which one did you read last?” he asked.

Michael pointed to
Tales of the Green Green Woods
. James slowly picked up the book, held it up to his face, nose quivering as he closed his eyes. “Oh my,” he finally said, voice soft and sad.

“What?” asked Culpepper. “You know I can’t smell anything. Was he rolling the book in carrots or something?”

James shook his head and held out the book for Randall to smell. From the bear came a growl that made the hairs on Michael’s neck stand on end.

The rabbit then handed the book over to Michael. “We can’t read,” he said. “But we know, nonetheless. Still, I want you to read the name of the owner of this book.”

Michael flipped it open and found the name the young hand had etched. “Willy Thornton.”

Cameron squawked and flapped into the air, one feather coming loose and twirling to the floor. Culpepper’s croak was almost a belch, and his eyes looked ready to pop out of their sockets.

“The young master must still be alive,” said Randall. “He’s the one who needs us.”

The rabbit nodded. “Michael, do you have a map of your town anywhere in the house?”

“I think so.” Michael jumped up and ran into the kitchen, opened the drawer underneath the microwave and rummaged through the papers. “Here it is,” he said, opening it as he ran back into the living room. He spread it on the floor and the animals gathered around it.

James tapped at the map. “Blue means water, right? And green is for park or forest?”

Michael nodded.

“This ain’t a town, guys,” said Cameron. “It’s a pretty big city.” He sounded worried.

James twitched his ears. “With Michael’s help, we’ll be able to do this, don’t fret.”

“With
my
help?” Michael sat back on the floor. “Why do you need me?”

“You found the books for a reason, Michael,” said Culpepper. “And you know this city better than any of us.”

He frowned. “What do I have to do?”

James smiled and slapped him on the back. “Atta boy! Here,” he said, leaning back over the map and poking at it with his other paw. “This is the biggest lake that I can find. How far is that to walk?”

Michael counted off the street numbers in his head; the park was clear across town. “An hour, maybe more.” He shrugged. “I’ve only ever ridden the bus or gone in the car with my mom before. Why?”

“Because that’s Happy Lake, that’s why.”

“No it isn’t.” Michael peered at the map. “It’s called Chester Pond.”

James smiled, and all the other animals chuckled. “Tonight,” said the rabbit, “it’s gonna be Happy Lake.” He stood up and folded the map. “Now get yourself dressed and maybe grab a snack to bring along. We get to pay another visit to the Green Green Woods tonight.”

“And bring along the books!” shouted Culpepper. “We’re gonna need them!”

It was close to one in the morning when they finally stepped out into the night air. Just to be sure nobody was watching, Michael shut off the porch light and then had them all go out the back door. He stood there for a moment, surrounded by these impossible animals, and then sighed and pointed. “This way.”

They weren’t even out of the yard when two cars drove by; all the animals froze, low to the ground, and Michael just stood there, shifting the backpack full of books and snacks, hoping they wouldn’t be spotted. They weren’t, but he started to wonder if it would be possible to even make it a block before someone called the police or the zoo or something.

“We have to go over right away,” said James. “Michael, get
Tales of the Green Green Woods
and read the title and first line from page 37 out loud.”

Michael sat on the grass and pulled the book and his flashlight from the pack, and opened to the first page. “Bonnie Raccoon’s Fishing Trip,” he said. Then, “It was a bright sunny morning when Bonnie Raccoon climbed from her comfy warm home in the side of the old oak tree.”

A ripping sound came from the book, and with a flurry of grays and muted color a small patch of paper jumped from the pages of the book and unfolded itself in the air, stretching and rasping and twisting into a new shape. Bonnie Raccoon. She stood before a gaping Michael, and as she opened her eyes, the house behind her faded to darkness, and the light from the lamp in the street seemed to go out. Instead of his front yard, Michael was now standing on a dirt path in a forest, his surroundings lit by thousands of stars and a half-moon.

“Welcome to the Green Green Woods, Michael,” said James.

“But, where—”

“You read the four of us out when you read our stories,” said James. “Now you’ve done the same with Bonnie, but we’re using her a different way.” He turned to Bonnie. “The young master needs help, and Michael here’s gonna lead us to him. You feeling up to carrying us for awhile?”

She nodded, eyes shining in the moonlight. “Thanks, Michael,” she said, voice soft and high. She turned and hurried up the path, James Jackrabbit hopping beside her. Michael followed, and Randall Grizzly fell into step beside him, running on his hind legs and panting with every step, with Cameron Crow riding on his shoulder, still chewing on the cigar as he bounced along.

As they ran, the trees on either side quickly faded into the blackness, but what he could see in the moonlight showed them to be well-sculpted; just as an artist might envision trees in a forest. There seemed to be little or no undergrowth, and the path had no roots to jump out and trip him up.

After a time of silence, the only sounds of feet on the path and the heavy breathing of Michael and the animals around him, Culpepper asked, “How are you holding out, Bonnie?”

The raccoon, who had started off running on her hind legs, had not long ago dropped to all fours. She stopped to catch her breath, and the rest of them stopped as well. “Awful,” she said, smiling as she bent over, breathing hard. “I haven’t felt like this since Zacharia Coyote almost caught me at the edge of the Merry Brook.”

“You able to go on?”

She straightened up. “Anything for the young master,” and was off and running again.

For the next half-hour they alternated between a slow jog and a fast walk, mostly to allow Michael to keep up. Every once in awhile he had to stop and sit on the path, back against the solid trunk of a tree, while the animals paced or hopped about in worried circles. All the animals except Cameron Crow, that was, who took to perching on Michael’s shoulder at those times, bemoaning the fact that he didn’t have a light for his cigar, and Randall Grizzly, who would take the opportunity to lean against a thick tree and scratch his back as he grunted and made blissful faces.

At the end of their fourth stop Bonnie tried to run, but immediately pulled up short and stood there with a look of distress. James slowly hopped over and put a paw on her shoulder, and the other animals followed suit, briefly touching her before stepping back.

“You did a good job, kid,” said James. “We’re well along, and that’s all thanks to you.”

“Don’t worry,” added Culpepper. “We’ll be seeing you again as soon as this whole thing is squared away. Right guys?”

The other animals nodded and made agreeable sounds. Then Bonnie walked over to where Michael was sitting on the ground. “Could you pull out your copy of
Tales of the Green Green Woods
, please?”

Michael fished in the backpack, found the book.

“Please turn to the end of my story and read the last line aloud.”

Michael flipped the book to that page. “From that time onward, Bonnie Raccoon was always careful to use her own fishing hole.” After one last look over her shoulder, Bonnie leaned one paw against the book, and then instantly changed from three-dimensional to two, was flattened out and folded over, turned into a page and halved and quartered. Michael turned the open face of the book towards him, and watched as what had once been Bonnie Raccoon assimilated itself into page 49 of
Tales of the Green Green Woods
, accompanied by the whisper of paper on paper.

He looked up to James and the other animals, was startled to see that they were no longer in the Green Green Woods. Instead, they were resting on grass near the playground of an elementary school. “What’s happening now?” His voice was barely a whisper.