The Caterpillar King (8 page)

10.

“Do you promise not to bite me?” I asked
Tika.

“I promise,” she said. “I promise, I
promise, I promise.”

“It was just the most painful thing ever and
I would prefer not to experience it again.”

“You have made that very clear,” she said.
“Look out!”

I looked up and just avoided smacking my
head into a branch. Then I went back to examining my hand. I needed
to make sure it wasn’t infected. There was still a small red mark
on my palm. And trust me, if it turned any other color, Tika would
be the first to know about it.

After a minute, we came out of the forest
and into a clearing. In the distance, I could see the white line
leading to a pair of small hills. We walked towards them, and
before long, I realized they weren’t hills at all. They were two
piles
. One was a pile of nets, the other was a pile of
batteries.

“Umm…” I said to Tika. “Do some of your
friends live here by any chance?”

“Very few of us make our homes above
ground,” she said. “And they could not collect so many things.”

That seemed like a fair point. Each pile was
about the size of an elephant. There must’ve been a thousand nets
and ten thousand batteries. Then I remembered the last time I lay
down in the nets, and how comfortable they were. Suddenly, I felt
very tired.

“I’m going to take a quick nap,” I said.

“You should not,” said Tika. “First, let us
examine our surroundings.”

She crawled in a circle around the piles.
She was small and the piles were big. It was a long time before she
came back.

“Safe?” I said.

Tika had a look of deep reflection on her
face.

“Do you know about the story of the nets and
batteries?”

I told her I didn’t.

“I think you know at least some,” she said.
“Nets are good for sleeping. They have been used in our culture for
thousands of years. Batteries have an opposite effect. After
touching a battery for some time, we become energetic and alert.
And then we move at great speeds.” She paused. “It is a sign.”

“What?” I said. “We’re supposed to take a
nap now? Or we’re supposed to go really fast for a long time?”

Tika smiled. “Neither,” she said. “We are
meant to take some of each with us. When we need to rest, we will
rest. When we need to move, we will move.”

Tika made it all sound so simple. But she
was leaving out one key part:
she
couldn’t take anything
with her. Every net and battery we carried along would wind up with
me. Personally, I felt like the nets would be more useful and
easier to carry. When it comes down to it, if I don’t get a good
night’s sleep, I’m not moving fast. It doesn’t matter if you stick
me in a pile of batteries or plug me into an outlet. It just isn’t
going to happen.

I picked up a couple nets and slid them
around my wrists. Tika nudged a battery towards me.

“If you do not balance the two, you will
fall asleep standing up,” she said.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” I said.

But in the end, I pocketed the battery, just
to make her happy.

Before we moved on, I collected a dozen nets
and two pocketfuls of batteries. I guess I was balanced, because I
didn’t fall asleep, and I didn’t feel too energetic, either. I just
felt like myself.

But with every step, the batteries bounced
against my legs, making the walk an uncomfortable experience. It
got even worse once the ground became rocky and uneven. A couple
times, I almost stumbled and crushed my friend.

“Sorry,” I said. I had missed her by half a
step.

She frowned. “I think you are retaliating
against me. You do not like carrying so many things.”

I laughed. “I think you might be right.”

As the sun began to set, the white line
faded with it. After walking for some time, we came to a canyon. It
was wide and deep and there was only one way across. There was a
thin path of rock, almost like a bridge. The rock bridge led to a
giant tree. It looked like you had to go through the tree to get to
the other side. Behind the tree, the rocky path split off in two
different directions, at diagonals. It was another fork in the
road.

“I have a feeling that this is the place for
us to stop tonight,” said Tika.

“Why?” I said. I’d gotten my second wind,
and didn’t feel tired at all. Besides, I wanted to get across this
canyon as soon as possible. It looked like the path could collapse
at any moment. “If we start procrastinating now, we’ll never get
anywhere.”

“What is the meaning of this
“procrastinate?”” she asked.

“Waiting to do something hard instead of
doing it the first chance you get. Like leaving a band-aid on for a
really long time instead of tearing it off. That’s not the best
example, though.”

“I do not understand “band-aid” but I think
I understand “procrastinate.” And we are not procrastinating. We
are planning.” She paused. “In the tree ahead of us, there lives a
squirrel. I know it just by looking at the tree.”

“You mean the ones who eat…”

“Exactly,” she said. “So we must be careful.
It is dangerous for you also. Squirrels are full of cunning and
deception. They claim to know everything, having answers to any
question, but they do not. They will appear charming, but only so
they can trick you. You must never believe a squirrel.”

I nodded. “So, what are you thinking?”

“We will sleep here until morning. Squirrels
prefer to take naps in the morning. That is how we will catch them
by surprise.”

“But we still won’t know which way to go,” I
said. “The white line’s gone.”

“Perhaps the line is also tired,” said Tika.
“Perhaps it is procrastinating, too.”

Before I settled in for the night, I put all
the nets and batteries on the ground. I couldn’t be expected to
sleep with a pocketful of batteries, after all. We made a circle of
nets around us. It was about the same size and shape as our old
ditch. Sometimes, it’s nice to be reminded of an old, familiar
place, even if it had its flaws.

Tika lay down and before long, her breathing
fell into a pattern. She was fast asleep. And I had a plan of my
own.

First, I gathered up all the batteries. Then
I kicked them under a pile of rocks. It may have been stupid, but
there was no way I could spend another minute walking with
batteries in my pockets. I just couldn’t stand them.

Then I stood up and walked towards the rock
bridge. Tika had said squirrels couldn’t be trusted, but
she
wasn’t telling me everything she knew, either. If a squirrel could
give me answers, then I’d take them. I’d be back at camp by the
morning, no problem, and we could be on our way.

The moon lit my way down the rocky path.
Every step echoed, and occasionally I’d look back to see if I’d
woken Tika. But she was as still and silent as ever. I came to the
bridge and put one foot in front of the other, just like a
tightrope walker. The floor of the canyon was so far below me that
all I saw was a deep, empty hole. I tried not to look down too
often.

A minute later, I was facing the front of
the tree. It had a door very similar to that of the caterpillars. I
remembered to pull it open. Inside, the room was light and lively.
I heard a flute playing in the background. In an overstuffed
armchair, there was a squirrel. He was reading a book.

“Company!” he said. The squirrel took off
his glasses and hopped down from his chair. “I can’t let you pass
unless you tell me a fact I’ve never heard before,” he said. He
smiled. “Not to brag, but I’m fairly well-educated, so I don’t see
that happening. But please, make yourself at home.”

“OK,” I said. I sat in a nearby rocking
chair.

“You look exhausted,” he said. “Let me get
you a drink, or you’ll fall asleep at any moment.”

The squirrel went to the tiny kitchen and
made me a drink. I noticed him putting in a teaspoon of white
powder. When he finished stirring it in, he brought it to me.

“Enjoy,” he said.

I smelled it, and just from that I knew it
would be delicious. But I also remembered Tika’s warning. The drink
could have been poisoned. When the squirrel turned his back, I
dumped the drink behind the chair. It was louder than I
expected.

“Why’d you do that?” the squirrel asked.

“I spilled,” I said.

He sighed. “Have it your way.”

The squirrel settled back into his chair.
The music in the background sounded like violins now. I admit, I’m
not much of a classical fan. It was enough to make me a little
drowsy.

“I like a good challenge,” said the
squirrel. “By all means, if you’d like to pass, try me.”

“OK,” I said. “Did you know that octopuses
have three hearts?”

“Really? That’s amazing,” he said. “But
of course
I knew that. Now teach me more…I mean, try again.
Another animal fact, please.”

“Giraffes can lick their ears.”

“Fascinating,” he said. “I’ve always been
astounded by that.”

“Bats always turn left when they’re leaving
their caves.”

“That they do, that they do,” he said.
“Another.”

The squirrel was clearly enjoying himself.
But no matter what fact I came up with, he would claim that he’d
already known it. Eventually, I ran out of fun facts, and I told
him as much.

“Fine,” he said. “You’ve been generous with
me, and I’ll return that generosity. Here is what
I
know.
You are not the savior. You are not on your way to your mother. In
fact, this path will lead you directly to a witch.”

“But I don’t understand…” I said. The words
felt heavy in my throat. My eyelids slid down. The room turned
dark. I couldn’t stay awake for much longer. “Why a witch? Who is
she? My mother…and the witch?”

The squirrel laughed. “Must be past your
bedtime,” he said. “Just remember: you’re heading towards a witch.
You are not the savior. Now, about that octopus. Does it
really
...?”

But his voice trailed off as I sank into a
deep, dreamless sleep.

***

“Finch! You oaf, you scoundrel, you rascal,
you…” Something was hissing in my ear. I opened my eyes to the
morning light and rolled over. I was face to face with Tika.

“Aahh!” I said. Even after a month, I wasn’t
used to waking up with a bug next to me.

“
Quiet!
” said Tika. “We must escape
now. I have found the battery and touched it, so I can move fast.
You hid them very well.”

I gave her a guilty smile. “They were
uncomfortable,” I said.

“It is not important now,” she said. “We
must cross before-”

“What?” said a voice behind us. “Before
paying your toll?”

I turned around to see my old friend the
squirrel. He did not look very well rested at all.

“Run!” said Tika.

I turned to head for the back door, but Tika
was already outside. Those batteries really did work. I, on the
other hand, was not moving so fast. What can I say? Even in life or
death situations, I’m just not a morning person. Still, I made it
to the back door, with the squirrel right behind me.

“Before you leave,” said the squirrel. “One
more piece of knowledge for you.”

He ran at me and jumped. He soared through
the air. I think he must’ve been a flying squirrel. With his mouth
open, he sunk his teeth right into my leg. He’d bitten me.

It was twice as painful as the caterpillar
bite. The pain cleared my vision, until all I could see was black.
Soon enough, white and gray edges melted into the image. I was
looking at my only memory again.

In the memory, the woman was still knitting.
But now, the fabric had grown, almost to the size of a wedding
dress. I looked up towards the woman’s necklace. The small wooden
circle hadn’t changed much. Just like the last time, part of the
necklace was glowing. It was the left path again. I had the answer
I needed.

For the second time this day, I woke up. I
had to let Tika know which path to take. But first, I looked around
the room for the squirrel. He was gone. All that was left of him
was another small wooden piece. I picked it up, and compared it to
the last one. They were identical. In my hand, I arranged them so
they were touching. I moved them around until they fit right
together, and it looked like I had 2/3 of a circle. Something about
these pieces looked very familiar. I couldn’t quite remember where
I’d seen them before… and that’s when it occurred to me: I’d seen
this design in my only memory. These weren’t just any regular chips
of wood- they were part of the old woman’s necklace. And now, I
almost had a complete pendant in my hands. What if it was my job to
recreate the necklace? What if
that
was the way to find the
woman from my memory? Maybe I was still a little drowsy, but to me,
it made perfect sense. And as far as I could tell, I only had one
more piece to go.

11.

Back at the house, no signs of life.

“Galla?” I call out.

Only response comes from a running tap in
the kitchen. I turn off the water, see a small lid next to the
sink. The lid to a pill bottle. Oh, for God’s sake. Head to the
hallway where Galla’d been keeping an eye on the child. Empty,
naturally. Down the hallway, faint sounds coming from the bedroom.
Enter the room and find Galla sprawled out in bed, Christ-like. The
loon must’ve taken another handful of sedatives. There
has
to be a better way to cope with stress. Just has to be.

Meanwhile, the child’s nowhere to be found.
A quick sweep of the room turns up little. I try to prop Galla up
to see if she’s crushed him. Doesn’t look like it. Think back to
the last time I saw him. In the bathroom, obviously. On my way,
listen for hints of his position. But can’t hear anything through
the bathroom door- it’s a thick, bulky thing, barely lets out a
sound. Open it up and an absolute flood of water pours out. Slam
the door shut on pure instinct. My shoes are soaked; the flood
spreads in every direction. Best to head back in, no time to waste.
Kick off the shoes, open the door again, plunge inside.