The Wild Things (22 page)

He knew he had to find Carol. He turned and ran back over the lava field and through the forest, in the direction of the fort. But when he got close, he saw a dark spiral of smoke coming from the site. He ran faster, and when he came to the edge of the quarry, where he’d stood with Carol to survey the progress, he could see that the fort was on fire, engulfed, all of it orange and trembling. The fort stood no chance of survival. Above, the owls circled and cawed loudly.

“Is that what you wanted?” It was Carol. He had stepped out in front of Max. His face was a cloud of anger, his fur taking the orange of the bonfire behind him.

Max backed up. “No,” he said. “I didn’t want that. How did it happen?”

Carol shrugged theatrically. “Who knows? Maybe I know, but maybe I won’t tell. Just like you didn’t tell me you were leaving this island. Are you really going?”

Max nodded.

Carol’s face went soft. “Don’t,” he said quietly.

“I have to,” Max said.

Carol turned around quickly, as if stifling an urge to lunge at Max. He turned back to Max, straining to appear genial. “Okay,” he said, “but will you come over here and put your head in my mouth again?”

Max continued to back up. “No, Carol. I don’t want to right now.” He was intent on creating more space between himself and Carol.

Carol breathed intensely through his nostrils. His face twisted into a pinch. A growl came from deep within. He composed himself and said, evenly, “You’re a failure as a king, Max.”

Carol stepped toward him, baring his teeth. “Look at your fort, ruined, on fire! Is that what you wanted? Look what you’ve done!”

Max stood his ground. “I didn’t burn the fort down.”

“What, you think it’s
my
fault? It’s
my
fault that you’re hurtful?” Carol’s eyes were wild. “It’s
my
fault that this place is torn apart?”

Max said nothing. He took a few steps back. Carol matched each of Max’s backward steps with one forward stride.

“Answer me!” he yelled.

“It’s not
my
fault,” Max said, and flinched.

“What, it’s
my
fault that you beat Alexander? It’s
my
fault that you’re leaving? That you don’t feel safe here? Am I
that
bad? Am I really that
terrible
? Is it
my
fault
your kingdom
is a
failure
?”

Max plotted an escape. He looked left and right.

“Is it
my
fault that I have to eat you?” Carol roared, raising his arms. His claws glowed in the firelight.

Max turned to run.

Carol lunged. Max dropped to all fours. Carol missed. Max rolled off the path and scampered off into the woods. He darted through a low, small opening in the dense thicket -- too small for Carol to fit through -- and now he had a head start. Max ran through the winding woods, Carol’s roaring and heavy footsteps close behind. As he ran, Max had to jump over logs and rocks and duck under low boughs, while he could hear Carol, just behind him, simply steamrolling through it all. Max could hear his breathing, raw and rasping. He was gaining ground.

“Come here!” said a voice, not Carol’s.

It was Katherine, standing in the hollow of a tree. She grabbed Max’s arm and yanked him off the path. She threw him on her back and scampered up the tree.

Carol ran by, growling ferociously. There was nothing left of the former Carol. He was only rage now, all heat and snarl, with the dull and murderous eyes of a shark.

Katherine reached the top of the tree in seconds and Max looked around, at the hills and shores of the island. He felt safe for a moment, but then the tree began shaking. Carol was climbing up, following them.

“Get inside!” Katherine whispered.

“What?”

Katherine had her mouth open, and was trying to shove Max inside.

“Get in!”

“I don’t—”

The shaking grew more violent as Carol grew closer. Max had no choice. He put his arms inside Katherine’s mouth, not unlike he’d done when helping Carol the first night. Immediately Katherine shoved Max the rest of the way in, swallowing him. Max let out a quick squeal and was gone, inside Katherine’s soft stomach.

It was like being dropped into a cloth bag full of wet food. The smell was musty and ripe, a mixture of rotten food and stomach acid. It was dark and stifling, with only the occasional gasp of air or light when Katherine opened her mouth.

Carol thundered close and soon he was on the platform, too, hovering over Katherine. Max felt her leaning back, trying to retain her balance.

“Where is he?” he roared.

Max tried to breathe as quietly as possible.

“Where’s who?” Katherine said.

“Don’t make this worse,” Carol bellowed, now even louder. “Where is he, Katherine?”

“I don’t know!” she shouted, defiant.

“You want me to eat
you
, too?”

“Go ahead!” she yelled.

Carol shoved her and, with a massive shaking of the platform, Max could tell that Carol had leapt off. But just as Max began to feel relief, there was an explosion of movement and screaming. Carol was back, and the platform creaked and groaned from the strain.

“Give him to me!” Carol yelled.

“He’s not here!” Katherine said, her teeth gritted.

“Wait,” he hissed. “I
smell
him.”

Max could hear Carol just outside the thin wall of skin and fur that separated the two of them.

“I can smell him on your breath!”

Carol’s huge claw plunged into Katherine’s stomach, grabbing for Max. Max dodged Carol’s paw, jostling around inside Katherine’s belly. Max felt something tense up inside Katherine and suddenly, with a deep grunt of pain, Carol’s hand was gone. Katherine had struck him, it seemed, with all her force, and he’d fallen from the top of the tree, easily two hundred feet down. Max could hear the cracking of branches as Carol descended, trying to break his fall. Finally there was a thump, and a low groan.

“Hold on,” Katherine said to Max, and he felt her leap from the platform and to another. Then another. She jumped high and away, again and again, until Max was sure they had found their way across the island and to safety.

When they were still, Max could smell, faintly, the salt water of the sea. Katherine, with Max in her belly, had escaped all the way to her beach. He was relieved and tired and wanted only to get out and to sail away.

“Is he gone?” Max asked.

“He is,” Katherine said. “We’re safe.”

Max was dazed and short of breath. “I can’t breathe that well in here. Can you get me out?”

Katherine said nothing.

“Katherine?” Max said, louder.

There was no answer.

“Katherine!” he yelled, now pounding on the wall of her stomach.

He began to try to climb the walls of Katherine’s insides, but they were far too slippery. There was nothing to grab onto.

“Katherine?” he asked.

Finally she answered. “What is it, my darling?”

“What are you doing? I need to get out.”

Max heard nothing.

“Katherine?”

There was no response.

“Katherine? Where are you?”

“You’re safe inside,” she said. “I’ll protect you.”

“What?” Max said.

“Don’t you like it in there?” she asked.

“No. Let me out.”

There was another long pause before she spoke again.

“You were a bad king. I can’t let you go.”

“What? I was not a bad king. Katherine, I need to get out.” Max was short of breath and his head was pulsating. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be in here. I can’t breathe.”

“Yes you can,” she insisted. “Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, suddenly outraged. “You don’t love me!”

“That’s not true,” Max said. “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know!” she wailed.

Max was growing weaker inside, his breathing shallower. He felt very faint.

“Please don’t go, Max. You’re a part of me.”

“I have to go,” he whispered.

There was a pause that seemed interminable. Max found himself growing numb, his fingers tingling, his heart fluttering.

Just as he felt himself dropping into something like sleep, he was lifted toward the light. It was Katherine. She had thrust her arm into her mouth, taking hold of Max by the scruff of his neck. She lifted Max from her stomach and into the air, and carefully deposited him on her lap.

The air felt so cold and clean, and he gulped at it. The ocean beyond them was bright and calm, and pulled at Max. But he felt so weak that he couldn’t keep his eyes open. As Katherine stroked his wet hair, he dropped into a shallow sleep.

When he awoke he saw all of the beasts, all but Carol, before him. They had untied his boat and had prepared it to sail. Max rose from Katherine’s lap and stood, still feeling light-headed.

“So you’re going,” Douglas said. His leg, half-eaten by the plant, was green and smelled like ham. There was a stick tied to his shoulder, in place of his missing arm.

Max nodded.

Douglas extended his left hand. Max shook it.

“You were the best thinker we ever had,” Douglas said.

Max tried to smile.

“I’m sorry for all this,” Ira said quietly. “I blame myself.”

Max hugged him. “Don’t.”

Judith and Max exchanged glances. She made a face that said
Oops, sorry!
then emitted a high nervous laugh. “I never know what to say in these situations,” she said.

Max and Katherine pushed the boat toward the water, and Douglas helped. Max remembered that he was still wearing the crown, and so removed it with great care and presented it to the Bull.

Max’s head felt lighter now, his thoughts clearer. Looking at the beasts, he tried to commit each of them to memory. He wished Carol were there, but at the same time he knew that goodbyes were seldom as tidy and timely as one would hope. He turned toward his boat and the sea beyond, squinting to the waves to see what challenges they would present to him.

When the hull had left the sand and was floating in the calm water, Max stepped in. Standing on the stern, he turned to hug Katherine. Her body shook, crying, but when they parted she seemed good, seemed strong.

Max raised his sail and grabbed the rudder. He was ready. Douglas and Ira pushed the boat the last few feet until it was free of the beach.

As the tide took Max out, there was a great rustling through the forest. They all looked up. A pair of great fronds parted and there he was. It was Carol. He broke through the foliage and ran toward the shore, his arms flailing.

Max locked eyes with him and when he did, Carol stooped at the top of the dunes, his shoulders slack. In Carol’s face, Max saw only sadness. There was no more anger, no more want, nothing but sorrow and regret.

As the sail pulled Max further away, he and Carol kept their eyes fixed on each other. Almost in a trance, Carol began to walk toward the shore. He descended the dunes and staggered across the beach, his eyes growing more anxious as he approached the sea. He walked past the other beasts and stumbled into the ocean, having no sense of where he was. It wasn’t until he was chest-deep in the water that he realized Max was too far away to reach. At that moment Carol looked like he might fall apart, dropping limb by limb into the sea.

Knowing it was the only thing to do, Max howled.

The howl sounded like forgiveness, and this was all, it seemed, Carol wanted. He was overcome, his eyes a mess of tears. He stopped, chest-deep in the ocean, just short of drowning. Gathering himself, he howled in return. “Arooooooo! Arrrroooooooooooooooooo!”

Their howls rose to the sky and twisted together until they were one, and the other beasts joined in too, all of their voices creating a wild, plaintive song of sorrow and abandon and anger and love. They howled together until Max was far into the sea, gone forever.

Max sailed under a full moon, with no land in front of him or behind him. He set his compass south, hoping that traveling in the opposite direction would bring him home. But for all he knew, it might bring him to another land altogether.

He sailed in and out of days and nights, through storms and bright dull mornings so long he thought they’d never cede the afternoon. And finally, one morning, he saw a caterpillar inching across the horizon, and that caterpillar soon grew to become land stretching west and east, and that land grew to become, he was sure, the forest from which he’d pushed off.

When he finally made land, he docked the boat in the same inlet and tied it to the same tree where he’d found it. He ran, as fast as he could, through the forest. The snow had melted and now there were only a few pockets of white. He was so close to home.

He left the forest and reached the road, loving the feel of pavement on his feet. He ran through the neighborhood, all of the houses dark but his own. He could see it clearly in the distance, and from its windows light still shone brightly.

Max ran his fastest until he was a few houses away, when he slowed down to a jog, then a walk. Why did he slow down? It confused Max, too. Perhaps it was the very weight of being home again. He’d been gone so long. Years, it seemed. And now he was back, and he was different. Would his mother recognize him? Would Claire? In some ways he felt too big for this house. But he also felt newly able to fit within it.

Max entered, trying not to make any noise as he closed the door. He passed through the front hallway and saw his art-class bird, which had miraculously been repaired. Upon closer inspection he could see that his mother had fixed it, with the utmost delicacy and care. It was whole and new again.

Passing through the kitchen, Max saw on the counter a whole meal laid out for him -- a bowl of cream of mushroom soup, a glass of milk, and a slice of cake. Still standing, he ate with greedy gulps, and while doing so he saw his mom, asleep on the couch.

He swallowed the food, slipped the wolf hood off his head, and walked to her. Standing over her, Max could see that she had fallen asleep with her glasses on. Her hair was matted close to her temple.