The Island of Dr. Libris (6 page)

“Billy.”

“Billy? What manner of name is this?”

“I’m like the goats that are gruff.”

“What? More riddles?”

“Sorry. I was making a joke. You know
—The Three Billy Goats Gruff
?”

“By Zeus, I have never met even one of these goats you speak of.”

“That’s because they don’t really exist. But then neither do you.”

“What? I am Hercules! King Eurystheus tells me what labor I must do, and I go do it. He wants me to shovel horse manure for a year, I shovel it.”

“Your king sounds like a great guy.…”

“But I know not how to retrieve three golden apples from this garden of Hesperides.”

Billy couldn’t believe he was actually having this conversation.

But he was.

“Okay, first off,” he said, “you’re in the wrong place. This is the island of Dr. Libris, not the garden of Hesper-whatever.”

Hercules wasn’t listening. “The king wants the golden
apples,” he continued. “Antaeus wants to stop me. I throw the brute down, he gets back up. I tackle him to the ground, he grows stronger. How might I defeat one such as this?”

“I don’t know. Bullies pick on me all the time, but I’ve never, you know, ‘defeated’ one.”

Just then, the earth quaked. Trees quivered. Startled birds took flight.

And a fifteen-foot-tall monster made out of rock stomped out of the forest and heaved Hercules off the ground in a bone-crushing bear hug.

Terrified, Billy grabbed the locked gate with both hands.

He was glad he was on the side without any monsters.

Antaeus had a blocky head, lumpy muscles, knobby knees, and a pleated leather chariot skirt. He looked like a rockier, browner version of the Incredible Hulk.

And it wasn’t an actor on stilts or a puppet. No way.

This was real.

“I will smite you!” Antaeus bellowed as he squeezed Hercules tightly.

“Oh, the beast does grip me most mightily,” gasped Hercules. “What can I do to defeat him, Billy of the goats that are gruff? Tell me! Quickly!”

Billy backed away from the gate. “I don’t know!”

“Is this, then, how Hercules must meet his end? Crushed like the many I myself have crushed?”

“No, I don’t think so. You still have a ton more adventures left in the book.”

The rock dude squeezed Hercules tighter.

Billy’s legs felt like wet noodles.

Dirt and moss were caked in the creases of Antaeus’s gnarled knees. He had the earthy, stinky smell of a monkey cage.

Billy didn’t think Dr. Libris’s island was a secret theme park staffed by actors anymore.

He did, however, wonder if this was all some kind of major hallucination.

Maybe his mother was right.

Maybe he ate too many peanut butter crackers.

Maybe all those ingredients he’d seen on the side of the packages—junk like thiamine mononitrate and polysorbic phosphitate or whatever they put in them to make them bright orange—had totally fried his brain.

“Help me!” gasped Hercules, firmly locked in the rock man’s tightening grip. “Please!”

CRUNCH!

Yow.
That sounded like a bone snapping.

For half a second, Billy thought about running back down the path, jumping into his boat, and rowing home.

Maybe he could head over to Nick Farkas’s house, kiss up to the head bully, and spend the rest of his summer playing
Space Lizard’s Revenge.

But Billy knew that if he ran back to the cabin, he’d never be able to read another one of Dr. Libris’s books
without wondering why or how they sprang to life. Plus, hallucination or not, Hercules needed help.

That was when Billy remembered he still had the bookcase key in his pocket.

Would it work on the island gates?

There was only one way to find out.

But what if the second he unlocked the gates, the block-headed monster grabbed him, too?

Hercules yelped like a dog does when you accidentally step on its tail.

Billy sucked in as much air as his lungs could hold.

“Hercules needs my help.”

(Okay,
that
was something Billy never,
ever
thought he’d hear himself say.)

He slid the bookcase key into the gate lock.

The gates sprang open.

And Billy stepped into the clearing on the other side.

“Stop!” Billy shouted at Antaeus. “That’s Hercules! Zeus is his father. You could wind up in big, big trouble. We’re talking lightning bolts, buddy!”

Suddenly, a muddy sinkhole gurgled open in front of Billy’s feet.

“Foolish mortal!” laughed the muck.

It had heaved itself up into two humps around the hole, like lips around a mouth.

Yes, now the dirt was talking to Billy, too. And it sounded like a lady.

“Too many peanut butter crackers,” said Billy. “Too many peanut butter crackers …”

“My son Antaeus is not afraid of Zeus, god of the skies. For Poseidon, god of the seas, is
his
father.”

“And, um, who exactly are you?” Billy asked the quivering sinkhole.

“I am Gaia! Mother Earth! Antaeus is my son.”

Billy tried to sort it out in his head.

“No wonder he looks like a big walking hunk of dirt. He gets that from you.…”

“Indeed. And none shall defeat my son so long as he remains in my loving embrace.”

“Is that why every time he hits the ground, he bounces back bigger and stronger? Is it because his mother, Mother Earth—the ground—gives him more power?”

“Hmmmm. You are wise for one so scrawny. You have discovered our family secret.”

“Well,” said Billy timidly, “I like to figure stuff out.”

“Too bad. After my son crushes Hercules, he must crush you!”

With that, Mother Earth slammed her sludge mouth shut and vanished, leaving behind nothing but a soggy sinkhole to mark the spot where she’d appeared.

Billy’s mind was racing. He had an idea.

He jammed two fingers into his mouth and whistled the way his dad had taught him to hail a taxi.

The piercing screech made Antaeus wince.

“What annoying bird makes such a squawk?” the rock man boomed, easing his grip on Hercules.

“Me,” said Billy. “I, uh, just finished chatting with your, uh, mom. She wants you to give her Hercules as a Mother’s Day gift.”

“Huh?”

“Mother’s Day! Sure, you’re a little late. You really
should’ve given her something back in May, but, hey, you know what they say—better late than never. So just, uh, put Hercules down, and Mommy will make sure you always stay big and strong.”

Antaeus did what Billy told him to.

“Quick!” Billy shouted at Hercules. “Pick him up, carry him to the shore, and toss him into the lake! But don’t ever let his feet touch the ground. Touching ‘Mother Earth’ makes him stronger!”

Hercules stared at Billy.

“Do it!” Billy shouted.

Finally, Hercules grabbed Antaeus by the ankle, raised him off the ground, and carried him away through the forest.

“No!” Billy heard Antaeus blubber. “Put me down! Put me down!”

“As you wish!”

There was a tremendous splash.

And then everything was quiet.

Until Billy heard a rustling in the forest behind him.

Great. Now what?

“Halloa, good fellow!” cried a gallant voice. “Art thou yet another bounty hunter sent forth by the foul Sheriff of Nottingham?”

Billy spun around and saw a tall, nimble man dressed all in green. A woman dressed all in brown stepped out of the shadows behind him.

She was swinging a sword.

“If so,” she said, “prepare to diest where thou do stand.”

Robin Hood and Maid Marian sprang into the clearing.

Billy couldn’t believe it. He was face to face with his mother’s favorite fictional characters.

“What be thy name?” demanded Robin Hood, raising his bow and aiming it at Billy’s chest.

“Um, Billy. You know—like the goats.”

“Billy?”

“It’s short for William.”

“Ah-ah!” said Maid Marian, lowering her broadsword. “Thou, then, art Sir William of Goat?”

“Okay,” said Billy, nodding his head, hoping Maid Marian wouldn’t lop it off. “Sure. Works for me.”

“Merrily, good sir,” said Marian. “What brings thee to this, the secret hiding place of the most renowned outlaw in all of England?”

Billy thought for a second. “My mother sent me?”

“Thy mother?” said Robin Hood skeptically.

“You two are her favorites. She
loves
you guys!”

Robin Hood smiled. So did Maid Marian.

Then Robin took off his feathered cap, twirled it in front of his chest, and dipped into a bow.

“Sir William,” said Robin, “for thy mother’s sake, thou art most welcome.”

“Thanks.” Billy checked out the forest behind the two new characters. “So, where’s that bad guy? The bounty hunter?”

“Dispatched,” said Maid Marian cheerfully.

“Does that mean he’s, you know, dead?”

“Ah-ha-ha-ha!” Robin Hood threw back his head and laughed heartily. “No, it means Marian scared him off with her sword.”

“And I wouldst do it again,” said Marian. “For the scoundrel was sent here by that vile villain the Sheriff of Nottingham.”

“Aye,” said Robin, squinting at the shadowy trees. “Methinks there shalt be others eager to earn the price the sheriff hath placed upon my head.”

“Well, maybe, I don’t know, you two should go hide in Sherwood Forest or something.”

“Forsooth, I like thy notion. Come. Sherwood is over yonder.”

Robin pointed.

Billy turned around.

And Hercules’s field of trampled weeds had morphed
into a shady forest complete with dancing leaves, flickering sunlight, and a babbling brook. The air smelled like May and flowers. Birds chirped. A rustic log bridge spanned the rippling stream.

“Okay,” said Billy. “How’d that happen?”

“Quite quickly,” said Marian. “Wouldst thou not agree?”

“Yeah, but—”

Robin marched toward the narrow bridge. Marian and Billy followed him.

“The Sheriff of Nottingham will not dare to follow us hither,” said Marian. “For he fears the harm that might befall him deep in the shadows of Sherwood.”

“So we’re safe?” asked Billy.

“Aye, marry,” said Robin.

“Does that mean ‘yes’?”

“Verily. Ah-ha-ha-ha!”

Suddenly, Hercules tromped out of the forest, dragging his club. He stopped at the far side of the log bridge to straighten his lion-fur cape.

“What ho!” cried Robin Hood. “Who be this lad of such might and girth?”

“He be Hercules,” said Billy. “He just defeated a monster made out of rocks and mud.”

Robin Hood looked impressed. “Did he indeed?”

“Well done, good sir,” said Marian.

“Billy of the goats that are gruff did help me complete my quest!” Hercules shouted back. “Usually, I do not like
children. They make me crazy. But Billy is different. He is bold and courageous.”

“No, I’m not,” said Billy. “I’m just a kid who—”

Robin snatched up a wooden staff he found on the ground near his end of the bridge.

“Robin?” said Marian. “Honestly. Must thou challenge each and every man thou meet upon the road to goodly combat?”