The Wild Bunch Read online

  Hector and I jolted so hard we nearly fell out of the tree.

  Jack slapped his hands back down and laughed.

  “Your faces!” he said. He screwed up his own face in a terrified grimace, eyes crossed, tongue lolling. “You should’ve seen yourselves. Man, I wish I’d gotten that on video. It would’ve blown up on YouTube!”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “There isn’t a bear?”

  Jack snorted again. “No,” he said, choking on his own laughter. He gave Hector a small shove. “Never seen you move so fast, Pooper Scooper.”

  “Not funny, Junior,” Hector retorted. “You could have . . . I don’t know, given me a heart attack! Or . . . hives!” he sputtered, and scratched his arms.

  “Oh, come on,” Jack said, wiping his eyes. “You have to admit, it was pretty funny.”

  I felt a mixture of emotions. I was angry. I was embarrassed. I was glad to be alive. And despite myself, the corners of my mouth twitched into a grin.

  “What is the matter with you?” Hector said. “You think it’s funny too?”

  I nodded. “That fart of yours was pretty epic,” I said.

  Hector glanced back and forth between me and Jack, and I could tell even he was trying not to smile.

  “Oh yeah, well, you haven’t seen anything yet,” he said, slowly lifting his leg.

  “Nooooo!” Jack and I yelled.

  WILDERNESS SURVIVAL TIP #14

  REMINDER—ALWAYS REMEMBER TIP #3: NEVER EAT WHAT YOU CAN’T IDENTIFY.

  AFTER SURVIVING JACK’S FAKE bear and Hector’s real fart, we continued, and eventually found what might have once been a path.

  “I’m not sure it is a path,” said Hector, looking along the overgrown trail. “I want it to be, but it might be our minds playing tricks. Or it could be an animal trail.”

  “It’s better than nothing,” said Jack. “I say we follow it and look for a marker.”

  So that’s what we did. It felt good to know we weren’t wandering completely aimlessly through the wilderness. Still, it was almost midday, and even the Spam sandwiches were starting to seem appetizing.

  “I’m starving,” Jack said with a groan. “Why did I have to give all my chocolate to you two?”

  “Because you’re a kind and generous human being?” Hector said sarcastically.

  Jack stopped in front of a bush sprouting plump, juicy-looking black berries. “Didn’t you say there was edible stuff out here? How about these? They look pretty good.”

  “Hold up,” said Hector. “Let’s check before you poison yourself.”

  I handed him his guidebook.

  “Hmmmm,” he said, flipping through the pages. “That’s odd. Can’t find them in here. They could be edible. Or not.”

  “Some help you are,” Jack said.

  Hector shrugged and pushed past Jack. “Well, even if they’re not, one won’t hurt.” He plucked a berry from the bush and held it to his lips.

  “Wait!” I said. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Aren’t you the guy who’s all about being careful?”

  “Live a little,” Hector said. He shoved the berry into his mouth and chewed. “Actually, they’re pretty good.” He popped a handful, grinning.

  Then his eyes went wide.

  “Hector?” said Jack.

  Hector’s hands flew to his neck and he stared at us in sheer terror. A horrible choking sound came from his throat, and frothy spittle sprayed from his lips. He began gagging, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth. His face turned as purple as the juice on his chin. Then he fell forward, grabbing Jack by the shoulders, and coughed a splatter of half-chewed fruit down Jack’s front.

  “What do we do?” cried Jack, as Hector spasmed.

  “We’ve got to make him throw up!” I said. “I’ve watched enough medical shows on TV to know that!”

  Hector fell to his knees at Jack’s feet, thrashing like a beached fish and spluttering uncontrollably. Then his head lolled back and his legs flopped still. His eyes rolled into his head.

  “Oh, God, no!” Jack said. “We need to call for help.”

  He pulled out his phone and dialed 911. He was about to hit call, when on the ground, Hector began to laugh, his face bursting into a big purple grin. “Gotcha back!” he said.

  Jack’s eyes narrowed, but a look of grudging appreciation spread slowly across his face. “Not bad, Pooper Scooper. For an amateur, I mean.” He clapped Hector’s shoulder. Hector toppled sideways.

  “Thanks, Junior,” Hector said, pulling himself to his feet. “And thanks for trying to save me.” He opened his arms like he was getting ready to hug Jack. “That really means a lot, you know.”

  “Huh, yeah, well, don’t get all weird and mushy on me,” Jack said, stepping back. “I only tried to save you because I didn’t feel like having to carry your dead weight back to camp.”

  “Sure,” said Hector.

  “So about those berries?” I said. “I take it they’re not poisonous?”

  “Nah. Just elderberries. Quite delicious, in fact.” Hector grabbed another handful and offered them to us. We ate until our mouths were purple and no one was hungry anymore—and no one ever, ever wanted to see another elderberry.

  We continued along the possible path, until it petered out into nothing. I tried not to get disheartened. Another steep slope loomed ahead, covered in loose rocks, dirt, and random clumps of grass. Hector stopped at the bottom.

  “Let me guess,” he said, pointing up. “We’re going that way. . . .”

  “Can’t go under it, can’t go through it . . . ,” I sang.

  “Have to go over it!” Jack bellowed, and began to climb, kicking pebbles and dirt back down at us.

  “Watch it!” I said, dodging the spray.

  “Sorry,” Jack answered, pedaling his feet against the rocks and kicking more debris loose. I clambered behind him. Hector followed, wheezing the whole way.

  Finally, we reached the top and stood on a long ridge that overlooked the forest. The mountain was closer now—straight ahead. Dark clouds were gathering around it. I didn’t know if it was because we were out of the trees or because we were higher, but the wind had picked up a little. Certainly there were a few gray clouds scudding across the mountaintops.

  I pulled out my binoculars and scanned the terrain. From up here, I could see for miles in every direction. Asking Hector for the map—or what remained of it—I tried to match the valley floor to the contours, but with all the rips and dirt, it was almost impossible. The lake itself was hidden from view behind the shoulder of the hill. We’d come a long way, and though I didn’t know exactly where we were, I knew roughly the direction in which we were going.

  Hector wrapped his arms around himself and nodded toward the horizon. “Maybe we should head back,” he said. “I don’t like the looks of those clouds.”

  As if on cue, the wind picked up, lifting the hairs on the back of my neck. For once, Jack didn’t immediately voice an objection. I looked at the mountain, so close yet still just out of reach, and sucked in a deep breath.

  “We’re almost there,” I said. “We can’t give up now.”

  We all stared straight ahead and no one spoke. Finally, Hector broke the silence. “Yeah,” he said softly, starting to nod. “Yeah,” he said a bit louder. “We can do this.”

  I pulled out my compass. “Okay,” I said. “According to the map, the falls are due east from our campsite. So that means we need to head to the top of the valley.” I pointed down the grassy slope ahead of us. “That should link us with the main trail again.”

  Jack yanked the straps on his backpack and set off wordlessly.

  We began to traverse the sloping field, moving through waist-deep grass. I couldn’t even see my feet. Every so often I checked the skies, trying to convince myself the weather wasn’t getting worse. But there was barely a blue patch remaining now. I just hoped it would hold out until we reached the falls. Sure, all the stuff about Mo Harper and the Beast was probably baloney, but that d
idn’t mean we couldn’t have an adventure anyway.

  Something rattled in the grass and I froze. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Hector asked.

  Another rattle. This time it seemed to come from behind us.

  Hector practically jumped into Jack’s arms. Wind rustled through the grass all around our feet.

  “Is this another of your tricks?” I asked Jack. The look on his face—pale, terrified—told me it wasn’t.

  “I think it’s a rattlesnake,” Hector said.

  “Seriously?” Jack said. “What are we supposed to do? Just stand here all day and wait for it to bite us?”

  “Rattlesnakes don’t bite unprovoked,” said Hector. “We just have to be careful we don’t get too close.”

  The rattle sounded again. Very, very close.

  “Any other great ideas?” said Jack.

  “I know,” I said. “We can do rock, paper, scissors—loser has to give the other two a piggyback ride.”

  “No way!” said Hector.

  “Yeah, he’ll probably drop me by accident,” said Jack.

  “And he’d probably drop me on purpose,” said Hector.

  “Well,” I said, “I guess all we can do is keep walking. Carefully.”

  The rattle had fallen silent, which somehow made it even worse. I pressed forward, taking cautious steps, barely breathing the entire time. The others followed, exactly in my footsteps.

  I was just beginning to feel good about things, when I felt a sharp pain at my ankle.

  WILDERNESS SURVIVAL TIP #15

  WHEN CONFRONTED BY A WILD CREATURE, THE BEST COURSE OF ACTION IS TO STAY CALM!

  I LOOKED DOWN TO FIND a long, slithering thing coiled around my ankle. The pain wasn’t actually that bad at first. It was more like someone had tapped me hard. But as I jumped, oh, maybe five feet into the air, I saw the snake wrapped around it, and suddenly it felt like my whole leg was on fire.

  “Argh!” I yelled.

  Hector and Jack turned and both started laughing.

  “Guys! I’m serious! There’s a snake around my leg.”

  “Yeah, right,” said Jack.

  “Sure,” said Hector. “Just don’t expect an Oscar, okay?”

  I managed to lift my ankle above the grass, and they both backed off.

  “Holy cow,” said Hector. “That is a snake.”

  I frantically shook my leg, which only seemed to encourage the snake to wrap itself even more tightly around my ankle.

  “Get it off me!” I yelled, hopping on one foot and dancing in a circle. “Get it off me!”

  “Leave this to me,” said Jack. He walked over, raised his foot in the air, and stomped in the direction of my ankle, missing the snake completely and landing his foot with a thud on top of mine. I cried out again.

  Hector pulled out his guidebook, and I thought he was going to try beating the snake with it. Instead, breathing heavily, he rapidly skimmed the pages. “Stay still,” he said. “Moving around just makes the snake feel threatened.”

  I took shallow breaths. Were my airways already getting tighter? Was I poisoned? I didn’t want to die in a field up a mountain, with just these two for company. My heart pounded. The snake wasn’t letting go. Jack slowly circled around me, cracking his knuckles.

  “Maybe I could strangle it,” he said. “Or set it on fire!”

  “Oh, that’s a great plan,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “Or maybe you should just chop off my leg. That’ll get rid of it!”

  “I’m just trying to help,” Jack said. “Don’t get so worked up.”

  “Yeah, well, you’d be worked up too if you had rattlesnake fangs deep in your ankle,” I said.

  “It’s not a rattlesnake,” said Hector.

  “It’s not?” I glanced down at the thing wrapped around my leg and quickly looked away again. It was still a . . . snake.

  “Nope,” Hector said. “It’s a California king snake. See?” He shoved his guidebook right in front of my nose, then snapped it back and started reading out loud. “It’s native to forests, prefers temperate climates, and only attacks when provoked. . . .”

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “But is it poisonous?”

  Hector flipped the page, then flipped it back again. “That’s weird,” he said. “I can’t tell. The next couple of pages are missing. Someone’s torn them out!”

  My cheeks began to burn almost as hot as my ankle. “Um, I . . . ah.”

  Hector frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It was me.”

  “You?”

  “Well, remember how Jack’s dad was supposed to bring the toilet paper? I couldn’t find any leaves to use, so, you know, I had to borrow some pages. . . .” I pointed at my backpack.

  “Ugh!” Jack said. “That’s foul. You used pages from Hector’s book and now you’re carrying them around with you?”

  “I wasn’t going to litter, okay?” I said. I reached my hand around, trying to unzip the back pocket to retrieve them. The snake started rattling. I didn’t know what that meant.

  “I thought I told you to hold still!” Hector said.

  “Well, I’m not getting those . . . things . . . out,” Jack said, gesturing toward my bag. “This one’s on you, Pooper Scooper.”

  Hector shook his head, reached over, and unzipped my backpack. With a grimace, he unfolded the sticky pages behind my head and read silently.

  “Well?” I said, shaking. “How long do I have?” I tried not to freak out thinking about all the things I hadn’t done yet in life: make it to the ninety-sixth level of Mario World, kiss a girl, perfect the double kickflip on my skateboard . . .

  Hector jammed the page back into my bag and zipped it shut.

  “Nope,” he said. “The California king snake is just a harmless constrictor. It’s not going to hurt you.”

  I breathed a small sigh of relief and pointed at my leg with a grimace. “But it’s still, you know . . .” I shuddered. “Attached to me!”

  “Don’t worry!” Jack said. “I got this.”

  He grabbed a large stick and held it to his lips, pretending to play it like a snake charmer. He danced slowly in my direction, humming and swiveling his shoulders.

  Do-da-do-do-do . . .

  “Ugh,” I said. “How’s that supposed to help?”

  Jack came to a dead stop in front of me with a huge grin—and in one fell swoop jammed the stick between my leg and the snake.

  “Ack!” I screamed as the snake hissed loudly . . .

  And released its grip, sinking its pointy fangs into the stick. With a laugh and a quick flick of the wrist, Jack tossed the snake—and what was left of my pride—back into the grassy field.

  And then the world seemed to tip upside down.

  WILDERNESS SURVIVAL TIP #16

  HEED ALL WARNINGS AND DO NOT TRAVERSE CLOSED TRAILS AND PATHS.

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU FAINTED,” said Jack. “I’m pretty sure it didn’t squeeze you that hard.”

  I covered the snakebite on my ankle with a small bandage from Hector’s first aid kit. Two neat puncture wounds. I was kind of disappointed it wasn’t a little worse so I wouldn’t look like such a wimp.

  “I just don’t like snakes, okay?”

  “Hisssssss!” Jack said as we began to walk again. I ignored him.

  The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky. Three o’clock, according to my watch. We’d taken a heck of a long time to travel not very far, but surely we’d find the red trail soon, and then it was all downhill. We’d make it back before dark, no problem.

  We crossed more rugged terrain, scaling a small rock face and making our way through a dense patch of trees. I was starting to feel so fatigued that I was ready to give up, when I slapped a few branches and leaves away from my face and saw it.

  “A path!” I pointed. “Look, a path!”

  Hector, Jack, and I ran straight ahead, coming to a stop on a gravel trail. A real trail. Not an animal
track, not wishful thinking—but a real, honest-to-goodness trail with a red marker post. Somehow—and it was sheer luck—we’d found it! A wooden sign read:

  BEAR FALLS

  ONE MILE

  “Yes!” Hector, Jack, and I leapt in the air and high-fived. As we strode down the trail, we took each step with a renewed sense of purpose.

  “I can’t believe I doubted you guys,” said Hector.

  “We actually made it,” I said. “This is so cool!”

  “Of course we made it,” Jack said. “We’re winners!” He banged on his chest and let out a huge Tarzan yell. Hector and I pounded our chests too. Hector’s attempt at the call came out sounding a bit like an opera soprano, but even Jack didn’t rib him about it.

  Sadly, our excitement was short-lived. We rounded a corner and I came to a dead stop. “Oh boy,” I said. “We may not want to congratulate ourselves yet. Look.”

  Jack swung back onto the path and landed with a thump next to me. Hector took his eyes off the trail and stood up straight, squinting. I pointed to where our trail came to a sudden end at a narrow ravine that seemed to run the length of the forest. The old wooden bridge stretching across it had been cordoned off with rope and a large yellow DANGER sign.

  “Guess the ranger wasn’t kidding,” Hector said, swallowing hard.

  “So what?” Jack said. “Who needs a bridge? We can jump over!”

  Hector’s face turned pale. “Jump?” he squeaked. “Across a ravine?”

  “Why not?” Jack said. “It’s only a couple of yards across.”

  Hector peered over the edge. “It’s not the horizontal bit that concerns me.”

  Jack and I joined him at the edge. It was actually more like ten feet to the other side—not far, but definitely too far to jump. And it was probably no more than fifty feet deep—plenty far enough to kill you if you fell. The base was a narrow creek running between thick vegetation. I inspected the bridge: wood planks secured by ropes, and a handrail running down the right side. The left one was missing, probably washed away in the flood that Ranger Thomas warned us about. I stuck my foot on the first plank and gave it a firm push. The bridge swayed slightly.