Digger Doyle's Real Book of Monsters Page 7

Professor Satori, alarmed, stood and frowned at the dark window. The curtains had not been closed. “Corliss, you saw someone at the pier with a snake tattoo?”

  “Yeah, a big guy, wearing a cowboy hat. With two kids.”

  “So, they’re here,” the professor said under his breath. “Grudgings.”

  Digger had never heard of Grudgings before, and, with the exception of Yukiko, neither had anyone else.

  “The snake . . . That’s a man we don’t want to bump into. Or his sons.”

  Corliss flicked Digger’s shoulder, and with a mouthful of fish said, “I told you that guy was creepy, didn’t I, Dig?”

  Digger pictured the man in the black hat on the train. There weren’t any boys with him, and Digger hadn’t spotted a tattoo, but he was very big, and had given Digger the creeps, too.

  “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear . . .” Mrs. Doyle was about to explode.

  “Calm down, Isabelle,” Mrs. Happer said. “I’m sure the professor is just pulling our legs. Isn’t that right, professor?” But the professor was not. He was dead serious.

  “Who are they?” Mr. Happer and Corliss asked together.

  “Treasure hunters, animal hunters, bounty hunters, fortune hunters . . . Hunters of every sort—and the worst of each kind.”

  “Baldric Grudgings is an expert tracker,” Yukiko said. “Perhaps the best. And what creatures he doesn’t kill he chains up in a cage on his secret island. He’s been training his twin sons, Bruno and Braden, how to track and hunt.”

  Mrs. Doyle squirmed. Unable to listen to a word more, she got up from the floor and began clearing away empty dishes.

  “Baldric Grudgings—or “Big Bee,” his nickname—is despised by cryptozoologists. He has zero respect for other living things. And he’s feared especially because of his raging temper. That man can get sooo angry.”

  “And Bruno and Braden,” Yukiko said, “are almost as wicked as their father.”

  “We’ll have to keep our distance from all three,” the professor warned.

  For a moment, Digger wished he could get back on Wendy and sail home.

  * * *

  After washing up the dishes and chopsticks, it was time to prepare for the next day. Rucksacks, each with food and a sleeping bag, water canteen, and change of clothes, were set down by the entrance. There were two flashlights, mosquito repellant, and three foldable fishing rods, as well as four—red, green, yellow, blue—pyramid tents, rolled up and fastened to four rucksacks.

  Yukiko and Digger helped Mr. Happer and Mrs. Doyle lay out futon on the tatami upstairs. Then they draped each futon with a mosquito net, which hung from the wood-paneled ceiling and gave the rooms a tawny glow.

  Once all that was done, Professor Satori unfolded the map. “Let’s go over the plan,” he said, using the palms of his hands to flatten the map against the floor. His index finger paused between two mountains, one next to a lake shaped like a ragged, dented heart. From the lake, he dragged his finger along a long winding river, to a spot amidst several hills. He tapped the crinkled paper. “We’re here.” His finger then retraced its path back to the river. “And we’ll go this way, following the river, to look for Inari-san.” His finger zigzagged with the blue line’s curves. “Mrs. Matsushita seems to think Inari-san’s hut is by this big bend in the river. We’ll spend the night in the woods around there. And the next morning we’ll decide whether to continue upriver toward the lake or return to the minka.”

  “We’re only going out there for a couple days?” Digger asked. The woods covered most of the map. His father could have gone a million places.

  “This house will be our home base,” Mr. Happer told him. “We’ll camp for a day or two at a time, then come back for more food and supplies if we need them.”

  “Besides, Digger,” the professor said, “when your mother and aunt aren’t out talking to people in the village, they’ll be here waiting for us to report our findings. And if they find out anything from the locals, they’ll want to share it with us as soon as possible.”

  “We’ll be expecting you,” Mrs. Happer said cheerfully.

  “Hopefully none of those Bees come snooping about,” Mrs. Doyle said cheerlessly.

  The professor got up to check the supplies. “We’ll head out early—six o’clock at the latest. At around midday we should arrive at the river. And we’ll have enough food for three days—just in case.”

  “As well as cucumbers,” Mr. Happer said, eying the bag bulging with the green spiky fruits.

  “That is a lot of cukes,” Corliss pointed out. “Good thing we’re taking those fishing rods with us tomorrow . . . I’ll put a cuke on my hook and catch all the Kappas you want.”

  Yukiko sighed.

  Professor Satori cleared his throat. “Corliss, it’s important that we don’t harm the Kappas if we do happen to come across any. We shouldn’t interfere with their part of the world. Do you understand?”

  “. . . I guess.”

  “There are people who would like to catch a Kappa and lock it up, or keep it as a pet, or shoot one and stuff it for their collection—Big Bee and his sons, to name a few.”

  Digger couldn’t understand how anyone could be so cruel. “Why would they do that?”

  “Fame. Money. They’d be the first ever to possess a previously unknown animal. Others might want the creature as a trophy—like fishermen who mount their biggest catches on the wall.” The professor folded up the map and handed it to Yukiko. “There you are—you’ll lead the way tomorrow.”

  Corliss watched her walk over to her rucksack and tuck the map into a pocket. “Oh, boy, now we’re really doomed,” he whispered.

  Digger looked up at the window. Outside a grey speckled moth was fluttering against the glass. Beyond the moth Digger saw only darkness. He could hear the pitter-pattering of those tiny wings against the window pane. Was it trying to reach the light inside? Or was it making every effort to escape the night? Either way, it desperately wanted to be someplace else.

  Chapter 10—Mamushi

  Digger awoke to the sweet smells of steamed rice and broiled salmon. A soft breeze and early morning sunlight were coming through the half-open window. He got up from the futon and out from under the mosquito net before making his way down the creaky old stairs.

  “Ohayo,” Yukiko said flatly when Digger stepped into the kitchen.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Ohayo? It’s Japanese for ‘good morning.’”

  Digger said “ohayo” politely as Yukiko set down a plate of bright-orange salmon steaks beside eight steaming bowls of cloudy brown soup.

  “Here—start bringing dishes to the table.” She handed him a tray of teacups.

  Corliss came down the stairs next. He held on to the railing while blinking at the masks and rubbing the side of his head, as if trying to massage out a memory that might reveal where he was.

  “See, just like I said,” Yukiko sneered as she carried bowls of cabbage salad with purple onion to the table. “You’re not going to make it, Corliss. You can barely get down those stairs. Wait till you have to hike up one of those.” She glanced out a window. Way beyond the scruffy garden and tired fence were hills and mountains for as far as the eye could see.

  Corliss rubbed his eyes and let his feet drop off the bottom stair. He scowled at Yukiko. “I was hoping you were just a bad dream.”

  “Now, now—let’s all try to get along,” Mrs. Happer said at the top of the stairway. “You have a lot of walking to do—it’s best to get started on the right foot, yes?”

  Yukiko and Corliss nodded, but Yukiko rolled her eyes as she returned to the kitchen for the bowls of soup.

  After breakfast, Digger put his rucksack straps over his shoulders and listened to his mother once again lecture him about being careful. “And don’t forget to listen to your uncle and Professor Satori. That goes for you as well, Corliss.” As usual, Corliss wasn’t paying attention. He wolfed down his breakfast, then darted out the minka. Digger finished lis
tening to his mother and went outside too.

  Thin white clouds pushed lazily over the mountain tops in an otherwise deep blue sky. All the peaks were green but one—a stony grey.

  On the far side of the garden was the foot of the steep hill. Corliss was over there watching a canary-yellow beetle drag itself clumsily through a mound of coiled weeds. Pam ventured outside next. She was about to climb a dead cherry tree when Mr. Happer called out from between the sliding doors. “All ready?” He was wearing a wide-rimmed, floppy brown hat.

  Yukiko slipped on her rucksack, made sure the map was still in the pocket, and picked up her water canteen. The professor had wrapped a red bandana around the top of his head. “We’re off!” he announced with a karate-chop-like wave to Mrs. Doyle and Mrs. Happer. After a flurry of goodbyes and waves and be-carefuls they were soon wading through the elbow-high grass around the base of the hill.

  Yukiko led the way at a steady pace, and Professor Satori, Mr. Happer, Pam, Digger, and Corliss followed in that order.

  It was six o’clock and already hot. The night’s dewdrops were melting back into the air, making it thick and sticky. Professor Satori assured them they’d feel cooler in the forest. “And at the river we can all take a swim.”

  “I’m not swimming with any Kappas,” Corliss said.

  “I thought you didn’t believe they’re real,” Yukiko shot back.

  “I don’t. But just in case. Plus, I don’t want any Japanese monkeys coming after me either.”

  Digger found a hiking stick and tested it out on the rocky path around the hill. He then looked up and saw towering stalks of bamboo. A few minutes later, the professor pointed to where a bunch of these stalks were leaning against each other. They had naturally formed what looked like a triangular entrance to the woods.

  In they went.

  There was much less light inside. The trees were motionless. And they walked only about fifty steps before Professor Satori’s hand popped up and he shouted, “Stop!”

  “Don’t move an inch,” he whispered. Everyone stood still.

  Digger’s eyes ballooned when he saw what the professor had focused on.

  “Yukiko—there’s a mamushi in front of you,” her father said as calmly as he could. The snake’s tongue, a needle-sharp Y, flicked out and vibrated. “It’s poisonous. Whatever you do, don’t move unless I tell you to.”

  Yukiko was standing on her right leg. Her left foot was raised, prepared to set itself down on a flat pinkish rock by some bushes.

  But on that rock was the brown-grey snake.

  It lifted its spade-shaped head. Its tongue tasted the air to check its surroundings.

  “What’s the professor gonna do, Dig?” Corliss asked quietly. He was a couple of steps behind and unable to see the snake.

  Digger’s heart was beating at his ribs. “I don’t know. He’s just standing there.” Digger’s knees felt wobbly and he thought he might collapse. This is how he’d felt on the train.

  Professor Satori remained still, hoping the snake would slither away. But when it lifted its head to the toe of his daughter’s boot, waiting was no longer an option. The professor turned his head slowly in search of a suitable stick.

  “Yukiko, keep your foot up. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, but not for long.”

  “What if I tossed my hat on it?” Mr. Happer offered.

  “You’re not close enough. If you missed, the mamushi could get a fright and strike at her.”

  Both the professor and Mr. Happer were keeping calm for Yukiko’s sake. Any sign of panic could make the situation much worse. What’s more, they were close to the snake too, and surely it had sensed that with its flickering tongue. If they shifted in any direction, it could get startled and sink its venomous fangs into Yukiko’s boot or leg.

  Digger was dizzy. He closed his eyes, wishing for the snake to disappear before he opened them. But that didn’t happen. It was still there. Corliss, though, was gone.

  All of a sudden, he heard his cousin up ahead screaming, “Yeeeooowww!” The mamushi at once went tail first back into the bushes. Next, the snake was hurtling through the air, then landed like a rope over a low branch, directly above Digger.

  “Get away from that tree,” Mr. Happer hollered. If the mamushi fell from the branch, it would go after its poisonous revenge.

  Digger ran past all of them and went deeper into the woods. Corliss leapt out from behind the bushes and took off running with everyone else.

  At a safe distance, they stopped by a wide patch of mushrooms. Digger bent over, hands on knees, to catch his breath.

  “Is everyone all right?” the professor asked. Everyone nodded except for Digger, who still felt rattled.

  Mr. Happer straightened the Plastron-Zetetic strap over his shoulder. He checked the control panel for any scratches or dints. “Digger, are you all right?”

  Digger stood up straight. “Um, yeah, I’m okay.” A trickle of sweat ran down his cheek.

  “Corliss, how about you?”

  “Better than ever. I haven’t grabbed a snake for weeks. When Dig’s not around, I pick them up all the time—in WolfsWhispers.”

  “Those are garter snakes, Corliss. They’re harmless—not poisonous pit vipers.”

  Yukiko opened her water canteen and took a sip. “I guess you’re more useful than I thought,” she said coolly.

  Corliss lifted his own canteen for a swig. “Well, you’re welcome,” he said with a slanted smile, not bothering to look at her.

  “Next time,” Mr. Happer said, “tell me what you’re up to before any heroics. Is that clear, Corliss? What you did could have turned out very badly.”

  Digger was trying hard to shake off the fear. He had to. If his uncle and the professor thought he wasn’t going to make it to the river, they’d send him back to the minka. But why was he the only one who felt like a frightened mouse? Even Pam seemed unfazed by their encounter with the snake.

  “We’ve got a ways to go before the river,” the professor reminded them, not wanting to lose any more time. “According to the map, this path ends over there by that hill. Yukiko, I’ll take the lead from this point on.”

  Mr. Happer lightly rested a hand on Digger’s shoulder. “Not a word about that snake to your mother, okay?” he said with a tense smile. “Please, not a word.”

  Chapter 11—Rotten Reeking

  To everyone’s relief—especially Digger’s—they didn’t run into any more venomous snakes. But their hike was tougher than tough. Up and down hills, over fallen trees, through thorny thickets, with ever-so-careful steps along a steep valley ridge, their grueling trek went on and on. When they finally reached the river, it was a welcome surprise at first.

  Wider than a bus, the tea-colored river burbled past them, curving around mounds of earth and rocks covered in clover and mopey grass. Its flow was fast, as if the water was making a getaway for the freedom of open seas far away.

  Digger’s nose was tingling. The water’s odor was unpleasant. It smelled like eggshells rotting in the summer compost heaps in Westwood.

  He breathed through his mouth instead of his nose, but that didn’t help much. The stench was overpowering. It was so awful he had to squeeze his eyes shut a few times. There’s no way I’m swimming in there, he told himself, watching the gloomy water rush by.

  The professor noticed a ring of blackened rocks on the other side of the river. “A fire pit,” he said. “We’ll use it to cook our lunch.” And then he pointed with his chin at a soggy log lying half-submerged across the river. “Hold on to your appetites, though. We’ll have to make it across before we eat. And dry, with any luck.”

  “It’s unsafe to swim here, professor?” Mr. Happer lifted his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow.

  “Not usually. But I don’t think we should risk it. This smell . . . It’s unnatural.”

  “Is the water dangerous?” Pam asked.

  “Who cares if it’s dangerous,” Corliss said, pinching his nose. “We do
n’t want to smell like it.”

  The professor pushed the log with his foot to see if it would sink. It bobbed a bit but stayed afloat. He took a step and steadied himself with bent knees. He raised his arms like wings to balance himself. With a few more brisk, light steps, he made it to the other side of the river.

  When it was Digger’s turn, he felt the log moving up and down under his boots. The wood made a squashy sound each time he stepped forward. It was slipperier where the bark had peeled away. Don’t slide off, he told himself.

  “C’mon, Dig.” Corliss had already crossed. And Pam too. “Quick and easy.”

  As soon as Digger had made it across, he let out a loud sigh of relief. And when he realized that everyone had heard him, he couldn’t stop himself from blushing with embarrassment.

  “All right, that’s done,” Mr. Happer said. “Time to gather up some wood.”

  “Sticks? Twigs?” Pam had started making a bundle of firewood with her arms.

  “And some thicker ones as well. Don’t go far, though.”

  In next to no time, Mr. Happer had a neat fire going. Sausages were sizzling on sticks over flames and rice was boiled. They were terribly hungry, and despite catching rancid whiffs of the river, they filled their bellies.

  After lunch, Yukiko held the map against the trunk of a tree. “If we walk along the river—up this way—we should reach our camp spot in an hour or so . . . around here.”

  The professor sipped water from his canteen as he studied the map. “If Mrs. Matsushita is right about Inari-san’s hut, then we may find him today, before we put up our tents.”

  Digger also looked over the map. Most of it was a vast blotch of dark green—the woods—broken only by the thin blue line of the snaking river. He couldn’t understand how an old fisherman could survive so deep in the woods for so long on his own. That green blotch seemed impenetrable. And lonesome.

  Corliss filled a cooking pot with river water to douse the fire. As he poured, a few tiny drops dotted his wrist. “Oh, great,” he said rubbing his arm against his pants, “now my hand is gonna stink.”