The Slippery Map (13 page)

“What we need,” Vince Vance said, “is a lesson on how to use the Slippery Map. It's been an item that Dark Mouth has been interested in for some time. But he's never had the opportunity to be in its presence before. I believe one of the reasons he's become so attached to your parents has been the hope that the Map would somehow find them. And in a sense, it has come looking, hasn't it?”

“Dark Mouth is
attached
to my parents? I thought he had them in prison!”

Vince Vance laughed, trilling and high. “Jail? Silliness. Perth-talk! They can't believe that your parents could be
so happy away from them. Of course your parents don't want to go back to that dreadful place. Well, now that you've been here, you can imagine that they aren't so bad off, are they?”

“Oh,” Oyster said. Yes, he could imagine. But this didn't sit quite right with him. Why wouldn't they come to find him? I mean, it was one thing to be in jail but another to be enjoying a plush life of luxury and choosing to stay put.

“The Perths have probably told you that Dark Mouth wants to use the Map so that he can take over the other side. Haven't they?”

Oyster nodded.

“Pure nonsense! Dark Mouth is actually devoted to reaching out to as many people as possible.” Vince Vance continued, “He's limited here in what he can do for the community. And he'd really like to branch out, network, perhaps do some partnering on the other side of the Gulf of Wind and Darkness. As would I! I'd be marvelous on the other side, you know. I have a real desire to do some
real
acting! Do you understand?”

“I think so,” Oyster said. “Dark Mouth is interested in community service.” Every Christmas season at the nunnery, Sister Helen Quick Fingers would have all of the nuns crochet dolls for the poor. She'd make it a contest and always won every year.

“Yes! Community service! Nicely put!” Vince Vance said.

“And you want to be famous.” Sister Elouise of the Occasional Cigarette liked to put on a small Christmas pageant every year. Oyster had outgrown playing the baby Jesus and had been demoted to a mule. “Like in Hollywood.”

“Hollywood?” Vince Vance liked the sound of this word. “What is Hollywood?”

“It's a place on the other side. I've never been, but it's for people like you, who want to be famous.”

“I like it!” Vince Vance said dreamily. “I like it very much!”

They continued to stare at the pink sky. “Get out the Map, would you, Fraca?”

Oyster could hear Fraca unbuckling the bag, but the sky was moving slowly and the view made Oyster so relaxed that he wasn't worrying much about the Map. He watched the limb of a tall tree that curved over the glass roof. It dipped in the breeze.

“Hypnotic, those clouds, aren't they?” Vince Vance said. “You like it here, don't you?”

Oyster nodded.

“You are such a kind boy, Oyster. Very generous. That's what we like about you so much. You're always willing to help someone in need!”

“I try,” Oyster said, sitting up. Fraca had already unrolled the Map in both directions, revealing the Gulf of Wind and Darkness, a bit of Baltimore on one side and Boneland on the other. But the Map wasn't sitting on the ground flat. It was jittering and jumping. Vince Vance was standing over it. “Is it always like this?” He was still wearing his swim trunks, the sun-reflector flat on his back. The blue sunglasses were pushed up on top of his head.

“No,” Oyster said.

Vince Vance was a little afraid of the Map. He was skittish. “Well, let's just get on with it. How do we travel through?” he asked.

“It's pretty easy, really,” Oyster said. He lifted the necklace over his head. He knelt at the edge of the Map. It was jerking off of the ground, making it hard to find a good spot to open it up. But Oyster flattened it out with his hand, and then he took the edge of the silver bucket. He scratched at a spot, and the Map quickly burst open so hard that the sheer force bowled Oyster over flat on his back.

He sat up and saw that it wasn't gusty wind and darkness. It was black clothes and a flapping veil, and the round face and body of Sister Mary Many Pockets. She popped out of the Map with such force that she flew into the air and landed a dozen feet away. Then
the Map stopped shaking and sealed up tightly.

Vince Vance gasped. “What is this?”

Sister Mary Many Pockets scrambled toward Oyster and hugged him. Oyster was confused. She was here. She'd come through the Map somehow to find him. He could hear her joyous heart:
I've found you! I've found you!

Oyster was confused. “You came for me?” he asked.

She nodded and rubbed his head.
Of course I came for you, Oyster,
her heart cried out.
You are my boy!

Sister Mary Many Pockets truly loved him. His eyes filled with tears. He felt choked with emotion. How could he have doubted her? It was so plain to him now. She'd always loved him. She always would. She'd fought her way to him. She didn't want a quiet life of peace, and Oyster didn't want the good life as offered by Vince Vance.
Yes,
his heart said back,
I am your boy!

He looked around the sky room. But what had he done? He'd given up the secret of the Map. He'd given into glitter and promises—just what the Mapkeeper had warned him about!

Vince Vance glared at Oyster and Sister Mary Many Pockets and the now calm Slippery Map. His tan face had turned ruddy. He was furious. “Are you trying to trick us, Oyster R. Motel? Have you brought us a fake? A bad replica that only spits out old women?”

Sister Mary Many Pockets stiffened. She didn't like the description. Leatherbelly was sitting up in his stroller now, and the elderly Perths, terrified, had backed away to the corners of the sky room.

“Yes!” Oyster said. “That's what I've done!” He stood up. “This map is a fake!”

Vince Vance glared at Oyster. “You,” he said, “cannot be trusted!” He bundled up the Map in his arms. “Dark Mouth will be collecting all maps, slippery or not!” He then clapped his hands violently over his head, and in an instant, the room filled with Vicious Goggles.

“Take her away to the Blood-Beaked Vultures!” he said to the Vicious Goggles.

“No!” Oyster cried out. He and Sister Mary Many Pockets held on to each as tightly as they could. But the Goggles dragged Sister Mary Many Pockets and Oyster apart.

Oyster!
her heart was crying out.
Oyster, I will find you again! I will!

She disappeared through a side door, leaving Oyster and Leatherbelly alone with Vince Vance and the rest of the Vicious Goggles.

“You're done for, Oyster. It's over for you and your beast.” Leatherbelly whimpered. Vince Vance glanced at the Vicious Goggles. “Why don't you all enjoy these two as your evening snack, my sweeties? It would bring
me great pleasure to watch, Oyster. But as you know, we try to be quite civilized here. And I would like to offer you privacy in your death.”

Oyster stood there, shaking his head. “But you wanted me to live here! What about the boy with the blue umbrella? He was real, wasn't he?”

Vince Vance laughed. “Oh, Oyster! Of course not!”

He sat down on his lounge chair, letting his sunglasses plop to his nose. “Fraca!” he shouted.

Fraca appeared from the shadows, glancing at Oyster with an expression of deep despair, and rolled Vince Vance from the room.

Oyster ran to Leatherbelly and scooped him up in his arms. There was nothing to do, really. They were stuck. It was over for them. Sister Mary Many Pockets had been taken away. The Map was gone. And it was Oyster's fault. He'd failed. But this seemed right, in a way. He'd been drawn in by glitter. They'd played on his weaknesses. And yet he felt better knowing that his parents weren't living it up with Dark Mouth. He felt better thinking that they didn't want to be here but were being held against their will. (The gnawing questions he hadn't been able to ask were still there: Did they miss him? Did they regret these years without him? Did they, could they, love him?)

The Vicious Goggles inched closer, drooling and
sniffing and snapping. Oyster looked up one last time at the pink sky. It was beautiful. He looked up at it and was simply thankful for it, thankful in general. He'd been lucky, really. Sister Mary Many Pockets loved him.

Just when he could feel the Vicious Goggles' breath in his face, he heard a soft thud from above. Two dirty bare feet appeared on the glass, and then a face, a face made pink by the tinted glass, a face dotted with freckles and smeared with dirt. Ippy!

I'm here!
her heart said.

And then with a loud
bang
, one of the far doors opened. And there, holding their bows and arrows, were three of the statues, powdery white but not statues at all: Drusser, Ringet, and Hopps.

D
russer, Ringet, and Hopps were covered in a clumpy white paste made of powdered sugar, Oyster figured, from Orwise Suspar and Sons Refinery. Ringet and Hopps were still in their uniforms. Drusser looked like a small ghost. With each bold step toward the Goggles, a white, dusty cloud plumed around them.

The Goggles lumbered slowly forward with hunched backs. They didn't hop like frogs. Their claws clacked against the gleaming wood floor, the webs between them shining.

“You okay, Oyster?” Hopps called out. “Under the circumstances?”

“Well, not exactly,” Oyster said, petting Leatherbelly. He didn't want to tell them all that had gone wrong, but knew he had to. “Sister Mary Many Pockets has
been hauled off to be eaten by vultures. And the Slippery Map is gone. Vince Vance is taking it to Dark Mouth. And, well, I don't like Goggles. Be careful.”

“Sister Mary who?” Drusser asked.

“Not the Blood-Beaked Vultures!” Ringet screeched.

“The Slippery Map is gone?” Hopps said. “Gone?”

“Yes,” Oyster said. “I'm sorry! It was all my fault!”

The Goggles were closing in. “We can discuss this later,” Hopps said to Oyster. He took aim at the largest Goggle. “I can shoot you right between the eyes, Goggle. Why don't you call off the troops?”

“We'll take you all out!” Drusser said. “Don't tempt us!”

“I thought we weren't going to kill anything!” Ringet said. “You promised, Hopps!” He was aiming at one Goggle and then the next and the next, wildly, as if to prove that they were outnumbered.

“Be quiet, Ringet,” Hopps said.

Just then a Goggle shot out his tongue and snatched Ringet's cap off his head, swallowing it as though it were a fly. Ringet screamed.

“Stop it, Ringet!” Hopps yelled. “Shape up!”

Oyster heard a noise overhead. He looked up and saw Ippy, using a chisel and hammer to poke holes through the rose-tinted glass, creating a perforated circle. Her small, muscular arms worked efficiently, carving out a large circle in the skylight. Bits of glass
tumbled down, raining on a few warty Goggle backs. Oyster, holding Leatherbelly, backed away. He felt helpless unarmed.

The largest Goggle leaped at Hopps, snagging his arm, ripping his sleeve. Another Goggle smacked Drusser's shoulder with his tongue. Drusser toppled backward, then rolled to his feet and shot an arrow at the Goggle attacking Hopps. The arrow hit the Goggle's webbing, pinning a claw to the ground. Ringet limped to hide behind a pillar. He tried to aim, but his arrow rattled against its bow.

And then the battle began in earnest: pink tongues flying everywhere, sharp teeth, lunging beasts, and arrows flying at webbed feet. Just when Oyster thought they were doomed, Ippy broke through the hole she'd made, and a big pane of glass shattered on the floor. She dropped down a rope tethered to something out of sight.

“Go!” Hopps yelled from a window ledge where he was taking aim at the Goggles' feet. “Oyster, you first.”

Oyster ran to the rope, scooping up Leatherbelly and shoving him down his shirtfront so he could use both arms to pull himself up. The rope burned his palms. The violent scene below him seemed to sway. He felt dizzy. When Oyster got to the top, Ippy was leaning over the hole with her hand out. Oyster grabbed it.

“I thought you didn't help people,” Oyster said.

“Well, it's a strange thing,” Ippy said. “I mean, I've never felt anything like it, but, well, I knew you were in trouble. I heard you call out for help. It's like a voice in my—I can't explain it.”

“Your heart feels like it's talking to my heart sometimes?”

She looked at Oyster. “Yeah,” she said. “Why is that?”

“I think it might mean we're friends,” Oyster said.

Ippy didn't want to smile. She tried not to. But the smile showed up anyway, popping open on her face. Oyster smiled too.

“Ringet, go! Your turn!” Hopps yelled below.

Oyster and Ippy leaned over to watch.

“I can't!” Ringet cried from behind the pillar. The air was still loud with the snap of tongues and moaning.

“Go!” Hopps yelled. Oyster noticed that Hopps was hurt. The rip in his shirt was soaked with blood.

“C'mon, Ringet!” Drusser shouted, letting an arrow fly.

Ringet zigzagged around the Goggles, both arms protecting his head. He dodged their furious tongues, grabbed onto the rope, and shinnied up, with his one leg stiff and helpless. Oyster and Ippy helped hoist him to the roof. He lay breathless on his back. “I'm afraid of heights. I can't look down!”

“Drusser, go!” Hopps yelled.

Drusser was being chased by a wild Goggle with warts
the size of horns. Some of the tongues smacking him were stickier than others; and because Drusser was so small, the tongues dragged him in toward each mouth before he found the strength to pull free. Hopps took aim at the warty Goggle, but it was quick and dodged the arrows with erratic leaps. Finally, as Drusser ran and jumped for the rope Hopps nailed the warty Goggle to the floor.

The last few loose Goggles, heavily furred and leaping, cornered Hopps on the windowsill.

Drusser was halfway up the rope. He shouted to Oyster and Ippy, “Help me swing the rope out to Hopps.”

Ippy and Oyster reached down, grabbed the rope, and pulled it back and forth so that it
swung Drusser like a pendulum. The end of the rope whipped closer and closer to Hopps. Finally, it was close enough for him to grab. He jumped and rode through the barrage of tongues. He tried to climb, but his wounded shoulder was of no use. “I can't,” he said. “Just go on. Go on without me!”

“He's bleeding,” Drusser said, climbing onto the roof.

Ringet rolled to his stomach and saw the bloody arm for the first time. “He's hurt! It's my fault!” Ringet cried. “I could have helped him and I didn't! I'm worthless at all of this. I'm a coward!”

“C'mon,” Oyster said. “Let's haul him up!” Ippy, Drusser, and Leatherbelly grabbed the rope. And after crawling unevenly across the glass, Ringet joined in, too. Hand over hand, they tugged until Hopps emerged through the hole. The Goggles' howls echoed below so loudly that the glass roof shook.

“How did you know I needed you?” Oyster asked as they crawled across the roof to the branches.

“We got your message through the Map,” Hopps said, wincing through the pain in his arm. “It was cut short but sounded urgent.”

“We met up with Ippy and Drusser along the way,” Ringet said. “Ippy had heard a message too. She helped us onto the back of some delivery trucks, in past the Goggles. It was my idea to play statues,” he added proudly.

“We don't have much time now,” Ippy said. She was already on a branch, climbing down. “Someone's waiting for us.”

“I've got to save Sister Mary Many Pockets,” Oyster said. “She's going to be fed to the Vultures.” He couldn't bear to call them “Blood-Beaked.”

“Oh, dear,” Ringet said, staring up at the sky. “Oh, help me, help me, help me.”

“I know someone who will help with your Sister Mary Many Pockets,” Ippy said.

“Who's this?” Hopps said suspiciously.

“Yes, who, Ippy?” Drusser asked.

They were all on the tree now, using the branches as a ladder to the ground. The underbrush was dense and the trees were knit together with vines. Oyster could hear birds and distant hissing and other noises he didn't recognize. It made him nervous.

“Eshma Weegrit,” Ippy said.

“Eshma Weegrit?” Ringet whispered in a reverent tone. “I've wanted to meet her all my life.”

“Who's Eshma Weegrit?” Oyster asked.

“Don't get your hopes up, Ringet,” Hopps said, inspecting his gash. “She can't still be alive.”

“She is still alive,” Ippy said.

“Then why hasn't she helped the Cause? With her powers, she could do wonders for us.” Hopps sounded bitter.

“She's a guru,” Ippy said.

“And gurus don't have to help the Cause?” Hopps shot back.

“
The
Eshma Weegrit?” Drusser asked. “Are you sure?”

“Are there a lot of Eshma Weegrits?” Ippy asked. She took out a large knife and started to cut through the underbrush, making a trail.

“Who's Eshma Weegrit?” Oyster asked again, following her.

“She can cure your arm, Hopps,” Ringet said. “And, well, she can cure my locked leg, too. She can! I've always heard it said.” Oyster wanted to believe this was true. He thought of the boy at the Dragon Palace with the leg braces. Could Eshma Weegrit cure him, too? But this thought filled Oyster's chest with the tight sadness of being homesick. Without the Slippery Map, Oyster wondered if he'd ever see the boy again.

“We're not meeting up with Eshma Weegrit. She doesn't exist,” Hopps said. “We're just going to try to make it through the valley alive, and if we do, we'll be lucky.”

“She does so!” Ippy said.

Oyster was frustrated, tired of being ignored. If someone was going to help Sister Mary Many Pockets, then he wanted to know something about her. “Who is Eshma Weegrit?” he shouted.

“Never mind that just now,” Drusser said. “First we've got to get out of this forest.”

“Who's stopping us?” Oyster asked.

“Not who,
what
,” Drusser said.