At first I thought that having to stay the night wouldn’t be so bad—it’s not like I was new to being held captive—I had been locked up in my room in the manor a number of times. But after a few hours, I was so bored I wanted out. At least when I was locked up in the manor, I had The Grim Knot to study and try to figure out. Here I had nothing but a pile of clothes I refused to change into. I thought about confessing to things I had never done just to get the chance to talk to someone besides myself.
Around five Sheriff Pax came and took me to a small room with a table and two chairs in it. I sat in one of the chairs while he questioned me. He asked about the museum display I had ruined and about the bus. He wanted to know if I had planned to do what I had done or if it had all been spontaneous. When I told him it was very much a spontaneous act, he began to question me about the mushrooms. His new line of questioning caught me off guard. I hadn’t figured out yet just what I was going to say about the crazy fungi that had popped up in Wiggendale Museum. Professor Squall had scared them off, and now I was left wondering what they had been trying to tell me. Sheriff Pax asked me about them again. I decided to just be honest.
“What mushrooms?” I asked.
“Come on, Beck,” Sheriff Pax said, suspiciously. “The main museum room was littered with huge mushrooms. Those didn’t look spontaneous. Are you saying you didn’t plan that out and bring them in?”
“You think I planned some sort of mushroom hoax? I laughed. “I don’t even like mushrooms; ask Millie or Thomas.”
“Beck, this is no joke,” Sheriff Pax said. “Are you saying you didn’t bring them in?”
“I guess that’s what I’m saying,” I answered.
Sheriff Pax smiled and then stared at me. He was obviously playing the role of both good cop and bad cop at the same time. “So you have nothing to say about the mushrooms?”
“They’re disgusting?” I tried.
He asked me a few more questions, told me I needed to change into the clothes they had given me, and then led me back to my cell.
“Is Thomas coming?” I asked with concern.
“Not tonight,” Sheriff Pax replied. “Now change into the clothes we gave you. You still smell like Lake Mend. You might as well make yourself comfortable; you could be here a couple of days.”
“But I—” I had nothing to say. I wanted to whine and argue, but there were no words I could have thrown out that felt strong enough to break me out of this mess.
Sheriff Pax escorted me to my cell and turned the key.
“We’ll turn the lights out in an hour,” he informed me. “You have one in your cell if you need it.”
“Can’t I just go home and think about what I’ve done?” I begged. “I promise I’ll think really hard.”
“See you in the morning, Beck,” Sheriff Pax replied. “There are two officers up front who will check on you through the night.”
Sheriff Pax walked down the hall and out the door. He shut the door behind him, and I could hear it too being locked.
“Perfect,” I grumbled, while sitting down on the bed. “Some field trip. Education’s the worst.”
I looked up at the tiny barred window and could see the light of day turning gray. I had nothing to do. There wasn’t a single thing to read or study. There was no TV or smart phone or radio or even graffiti to look at. I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes. I knew my dad would never let this slide. He was sick, but he wasn’t so sick that he couldn’t think up a punishment that would mess up my life for a while. It was always a little disconcerting to be punished by someone who lacked discipline in their own life. My adopted mother used to always tell me to be honest and work hard, when she had a hard time telling the truth and had spent her days sleeping.
I ran my hands through my hair and shook my head like a dog wanting to shake off water. I was so frustrated by what I had done. Lately I had been getting more and more bothered by myself and some of the things I accidentally did. Now here I was locked up with nobody but myself. I was in the mood for better company.
“Great,” I mumbled.
I stood up and walked to the cell door. I grabbed two of the bars and pulled. It was locked tight. I yelled down the hall hoping they would hear me out in the front office.
“Hey!” I hollered. “Hey, police people!”
There was no sound or indication that I had been heard. I decided to yell louder.
“Police guys! Can I get a magazine, or a book, or a TV, or someone sane enough to let me go home?”
Nothing.
I sat back down on my bed and took off my shoes. I pulled off my socks. My feet were still wrinkled from the surprise swim I had taken earlier. I suddenly wished I could take a shower. I thought about yelling some more and demanding that they let me shower, but I wasn’t that sure about whether or not I wanted to take a shower at a police station.
I picked up the pile of clothes I had been given and unfolded them. There was a long, one-piece jumpsuit that had black and white stripes running horizontally. It looked just like the prison suits you saw prisoners in old photos wearing. There was no way I was ever going to put it on. I could see it now; someone would get a picture of me wearing it, and then years from now, when I wanted to run for president of the world, that picture would show up and ruin my sterling reputation. There was also a black-and-white striped nightcap. I actually laughed out loud when I realized what it was. It looked exactly like the kind of thing a criminal elf would wear. A pair of big, stark-white socks and some tighty-whiteys completed the ensemble. There was no way I was going to put on underwear that belonged to the cops. I set the bundle of clothes on the floor and lay down on the bed.
I stared at the washed-out concrete ceiling and thought of all the people who would someday feel bad about me being locked up. There was a knock at the far door down the hallway, but when I yelled for whoever it was to come in, nobody did.
I didn’t think I was tired, but the excitement of the day and the accident that had dragged me into the lake must have taken it out of me. My eyelids struggled to keep open. After a couple of attempts at keeping them up, I let them snap shut, and sleep smothered me like a heavy beanbag.
I’m not sure how long I slept, but when I woke up it was pitch-black. It took me a few moments to figure out where I was. When I realized that I was in jail and that the field trip had not just been a nightmare, I sat up and moaned.
I slid off of my bed and felt my way over to the wall, where I flipped the switch and turned on the small, round fluorescent light on the ceiling. A weak blue light hummed like a fat pasty face staring down at me. The light barely lit up my small cell.
I was supposed to be old and brave, but at the moment I felt young for my age and slightly bothered by how little I could see. The air was still, and I could smell something that reminded me of stale food. I looked around and realized that there was a tray of food on the edge of the sink. Apparently someone had come in and dropped it off while I was sleeping. I picked up the tray and carried it over to my bed. I set it down on the end and then sat cross-legged in front of it. The light wasn’t strong enough for me to be able to tell just what kind of meat was on the sandwich, so the first bite was a gamble. I chewed, determined it was ham, and then finished the whole thing in four more bites. I downed the small bowl of fruit and the brownie that tasted like it had peanut butter in it. The food wasn’t quite as good as Millie’s, but it wasn’t bad. I set my tray back on the sink and belched in a way that only someone who was alone in a prison cell would dare.
“Excuse me,” I said to myself.
The buzzing blue light above me flickered spastically. I looked up at the small window, wishing that Kate would break through and bust me out.
Vwisst!
I swatted at my left ear as a small bug flew past. I looked around in the dark, wondering where the pest had gone and what kind of bug it was.
Vwisst!
It buzzed near my right ear, and I ducked quickly to the left. It was one thing t
o have it be so dark, but it was another thing altogether to be sharing the dark with some unknown insect. Bad memories of the time I had spent stuck in a furnace vent with a bag full of bees washed over me.
Vwisst! Wiffft!
I spun around like an awkward ballerina, trying to catch a glimpse of what was flying around. I stepped over to the tray with my dirty dishes and pushed off the dishes. I picked up the empty tray.
Vwisst! Wiffft! Wiffft!
I swung the tray around like a giant flyswatter, batting at whatever was after me. I could hear something small click up against the swinging tray. I crouched down in the corner and stared at the front of the cell. Whatever was pestering me seemed to be coming from the direction of the door, and the tiny bit of light in my cell barely reached out past the bars.
Vwisst! Wiffft! Piffff!
“Ouch!”
Something stung me on the right elbow. I slapped at my arm, and whatever had bit me jammed into my hand, stinging it as well.
I looked at my hand. I could see a long, thin stinger sticking out of my index finger.
“What the . . . ?”
I didn’t have time to question what I had found because the sudden sound of something expanding filled the air. That sound was followed by an assault of whizzing projectiles flying through the air. I could feel hundreds of needles stinging my legs and arms. The tray had protected my face and chest, but my gut now looked like the back end of a porcupine. I yelled as loud as I could, hoping that one of the policemen would hurry up and come to my rescue.
I could hear something expanding again. I turned to the side as hundreds of needles flew through the air and poked through my clothes and into the back of my head. None of them went deep enough to do any real harm, but they stung. I looked like an acupuncture test dummy.
I swatted and pulled at the needles while grabbing the mattress off my bed and scurrying behind it. Just as I made it behind the mattress, the sound of something expanding again filled the air. One moment later I heard the sound of thousands of needles hitting the other side of the mattress. I screamed and screamed until I realized I was embarrassing myself. I rubbed all the needles off my arms and from the back of my head and then stayed huddled behind the mattress listening to myself breathe.
The air was completely still.
After a few minutes of silence I tried yelling for help once more—once more, nobody came to my aid. After a few minutes more I pushed the mattress up and moved to peer carefully out of the side.
I couldn’t see anything outside the bubble of weak light.
Scattered all over the ground were thousands of thin needles. They were also poking out of the mattress and sticking to the walls. I pulled some out of my shirt and looked at them closely. They were all about an inch and a half long with a sharp clear end.
I looked out toward the cell door, listening anxiously for the sound of anything expanding and holding the tray over my head. I couldn’t see anything but black. I tried to calm my breathing and get my wits about me.
Srrrrwwwit.
Something huge shuffled closer and stood directly in front of the cell door. I screamed in a manner not very becoming of a boy my age.
Standing directly in front of the door was a seven-foot-tall cactus. It had two arms sticking out from its right side and one from its left. The bottom was chewed up and worn down as if it had dragged itself a great distance to get where it now was. There were only a few needles still on it.
The cactus pushed closer to the bars and the sound of it expanding once more filled the air. I ducked back behind the mattress as the cactus shot out its last remaining quills. It then began banging up against the outside of the cell as if trying to get in.
“Help!” I yelled as loud as I could. “Somebody!”
I looked out from behind the mattress and could see the huge thick cactus heaving itself up against the bars, trying to get into my space. Luckily, it was too big to fit through. It also looked to now be completely needle free. It had shot out all of its weapons and now wanted in to finish me off.
“Get away!” I hollered, as if it were possible to reason with a cactus. “Guards!”
Still nobody came, and the large cactus appeared to be getting angrier as it violently thrust its entire body against the bars. I looked up at the tiny light, wishing it would try harder to be bright. It was still too dark to really feel any sort of hope or fully make out what was happening.
One of the cactus’s right arms pushed through the bars, reaching directly toward me. I was too far away for it to actually touch me, but it didn’t make me happy in the least. I stood up and began hitting it as hard as I could with the food tray. The tray chipped away at the thick, spongy cactus, sending chunks of it all over. I turned the tray and began to chop at the arm like it was a log.
The torso of the cactus was pushing up against the bars so hard that parts of it were beginning to squish through. I took one more whack at the arm and it sliced off and fell to the ground.
“Help!” I continued to scream.
I flipped the tray around and began to jab at the body of the cactus with one of the corners. The tray created gashes and caused the plant to pull back just a bit. I took that as a positive sign to continue. I went wild with the jabbing, and the cactus pulled back even farther. I thought for a brief second that I was winning, but it just shivered and began to hurl itself at the bars with such force that it was beginning to break apart. Chunks, wads, and fistfuls were tearing off and falling to the floor as it continued its rant of self-destruction. Its left arm worked through the bars, and I sliced it off with two blows. It was so torn and beat up that the entire plant was beginning to just crumble and fall to the ground. I continued to hack at it through the bars, still screaming for help and wondering what I had done in some previous lifetime to cause this—what horrible heinous crime against plants had I been a part of to bring this on?
The very top of the cactus broke off, followed by the last remaining arm. I shoved the tray through the bars and split the center of the cactus. It busted open like a vegetarian piñata—bits of sticky cactus falling to the ground and settling on the floor.
I dropped the tray and fell to my knees. My body was exhausted. I had red prickly marks all over my arms from where I had been repeatedly pricked. I also still had needles in my hair and clothes, making it painful and awkward to move or sit down.
“Thanks for the help!” I yelled.
I gazed at the chewed-up pile of cactus and wondered where it had come from. It looked a lot like the one I had seen at Wiggendale. And since there weren’t many cacti in Kingsplot, I had to believe that’s where this one had come from.
My heart was racing so fast I was afraid it was going to slip up out of my mouth and fall to the floor in the cactus heap. I was just about to stand up when one of the chunks of cactus twitched.
I did a double take and noticed that the first arm I had severed was rising up from the pile of its slaughtered body.
“No!” I yelled. “Guards!”
I picked up the tray as more and more of the small pieces began to shiver and shake toward me, working their way through the bars and gaining momentum. My body ached, and my mind felt like a punching bag that a twitchy boxer was repeatedly punching.
I couldn’t imagine how things could be worse.
Apparently I need to work on my imagination. As I was hyperventilating and watching my life flash before my eyes, the overhead light buzzed twice and then flickered off, leaving me completely in the dark.
Chapter 7
Please, Mister Policeman
Fear pumped through my blood—my cell was completely dark. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, and all I could hear was the sound of my heart dry heaving and big, sticky chunks of rabid cactus sliding toward me.
“Guards!”
Nobody was coming to my rescue. I felt something brush up against my right leg, and I completely lost it. I began twirling and screaming and batting that tray up against ev
erything and anything that dared get in front of me.
Not being able to see my feet, I slipped, causing my body to slam into the sink and bounce against the bars. I ignored the pain and continued to fight valiantly against the oncoming cactus carcass. Chunks were swirling and moving around my legs. I tripped over the mattress and fell onto my stomach. I was instantly bombarded with cactus wreckage. I could feel bits of it covering most of my body.