Chapter 9
I can’t move my arms. Actually, I can’t move anything. Wait—I can move my feet, but they’re hanging, dangling from somewhere. My tongue forces its way through my dry, cracked lips, my braces sticking to them and I taste blood.
A bright light burns my eyes as I jerk myself awake and inhale. The beat of my rocking body is in perfect rhythm with the pounding of my head, dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum. Where am I?
“Hi Ozzie.”
Andrew’s voice.
My foggy brain latches onto it like a lifeline. He’s alive. I twist, but my body presses into something warm and solid. I try holding on to just one thought, anything that will help me make sense of what is happening, but it’s like grabbing hold of smoke. Images swim through my mind. The cabin…the blizzard…the giant.
Andrew’s little face peeks around a fox-lined shoulder. Something mink-ish is stuffed inside his hood. “Gro-ber’s taking us to Mommy.”
Mommy? The word echoes in my skull, but we’re going up, aren’t we? Closing my eyes again, I try to focus. That man--and Andrew found us…Amelia…the tree limb…“Mommy?” The name sounds funny on my lips. Memory of the midnight rescue races back to my mind.
“Gro-ber says we stopping soon.”
Stopping where? I force myself to concentrate. The surroundings are unfamiliar—higher up than my family has hiked. “Amelia?” I call, twisting as best I can. “Are you awake?” She doesn’t answer.
Andrew peeks again, giggling. “Peek-boo!” He vanishes behind the fur.
“Wait, Andrew, come back.”
“Peek-boo!” he says again. It doesn’t take much to entertain a three-year-old.
“What’s this guy’s name again?” Between my fuzzy brain, Amelia’s silence, and a little brother who keeps popping in and out of my line of vision, I’m close to losing it.
“Name’s Gro-ber!” He throws both arms over his head. “He my friend.”
“That’s good, buddy. And where’s he taking us?”
“Taking us to Mommy!”
“Our mommy?”
He throws his head back, laughing. “Not Momma, Mommy!”
“And where is Mommy?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
“Up dear,” he says, pointing up.
“In…heaven?”
“Noooo, Silly!” He howls with laughter.
I’m glad someone’s having fun.
“In a cave, up top.”
Cave? This doesn’t sound good. I shift again, trying to see if Amelia is even alive. “Is Mommy an animal, like a dog or something?”
Andrew covers his mouth with both hands and giggles. “You crazy Ozzie. Her’s a lady.”
He disappears behind the fox's head and a rumble vibrates through the man’s back. Is he laughing?
Amelia jerks awake and moans. “Darcie, what’s happening? Where are we and why are we swaddled together?”
“Um…don’t worry Amelia. I think it’ll be okay in a minute,’ I say. “Andrew says we’re stopping soon.”
“Almost dere!” Andrew raises his arms. “Yay!”
Wind whips crazily, stirring up snow. It howls like the cry of a wounded wolf. Gripping the ropes, I lean over, trying to see around Grover's massive back. And that’s when I see it.
A silent scream, rips through my mind. “No, no, no,” I say. “We are in trouble. Big, big trouble.”
Amelia pulls one arm loose and grabs a fistful of my hair. “Darcie, tell me. What is happening?”
But as Grover shifts slightly, I don’t have to tell her—she can see for herself. An ancient woman with filthy grey hair and skin like cracked leather leans on a tree branch. “Where've you been, ya useless piece of garbage?” Her voice screeches through the stillness, sending a sudden chill between my shoulders.
“Mommy.” Grover’s head drops, shoulders hunching as the words strike him. Shifting his weight, he slowly sinks to one knee so that we’re closer to the ground. “Hold on,” he mutters, not unkindly. He reaches around his side and loosens the strap.
Amelia and I slide downward in a slow, awkward spill.
“OOF!” I hit the dirt on my hands and knees as the sling slackens.
Amelia, still tied to my back, lets out a scream as she lands on top of me, her injured leg sticking out unnaturally. She shoves at my shoulder. “Ow, be careful!" Then, "Oh…I think I’m going to throw up.”
“Sorry! I just—” I roll to the side, wincing.
“Silence!” Mommy shrieks.
I scramble upright—tugging at the rope sling. Amelia pulls herself up to stand on one leg. Her face turns pale.
Edging toward the woman, Grover lifts Andrew from his carrier. “Look, Mommy,” he says softly, “I brung ya a baby.” He sets Andrew on the ground in front of him, and bows like he’s offering something to a queen.
“No!” The word tears out of me as I lunge.
He turns sideways, blocking me effortlessly with a forearm that's as thick as a tree trunk. My body slams against him. There’s no way she’s taking my baby brother.
But Andrew—the little kid who loves everyone—runs straight at her, arms wide.
“Hi Mommy! I’m Andrew.”
The woman’s face shifts in surprise. If she isn’t the ugliest human being I’ve ever seen, I don’t know who is. But as Grover holds me back—using only the strength of a few fingers, mind you—her ravaged face lights up.
Balling my fists, I pound Grover with every ounce of strength I have. “I want my brother! Let him go!” But that horrible, stinking, disgusting woman folds Andrew into a heart-felt embrace, burying her face in his curls.
“You’re here!” she croons, pulling back to look at him. “My baby’s come home! Oh, how I’ve missed you!”
“No! He’s not —”
Grover turns toward me; his face is boyish, pleasant—almost kind--with an innocence behind his eyes. No wonder Andrew loves him; he’s like a giant toddler. He holds one finger to his lips, pleading silently. I don’t know why, but I stop struggling and just…stare.
The troll woman has completely transformed. Don't get me wrong, she’s still ugly, but somehow tender…lighter. But then, like a flipped switch, she raises her eyes, taking in the rest of us. The scowl returns and her shrill voice echoes across the mountaintops. Even the wind seems to pause. “Don’t just stand there! Get a move on! I need some more bark for my tea.” She turns and leads Andrew into the cave.
It’s dark when we enter—no windows, no electricity, plus it’s so bright outside that my eyes take a while to adjust. Amelia hovers beside me, one hand gripping my arm for balance, the other slapped over her mouth like she’s holding back a scream.
Mommy crouches in her own little cove like an ogress, guarding her treasure. Colorful pillows and blankets tangle together with a bunch of animal pelts: bear, raccoon, fox. Against one wall, antlers jut out like weird bony hooks, holding random stuff: a dented old-time canteen, something poncho-ish, and what might be long strips of jerky—or something I really hope is jerky. Andrew sits near, smiling and babbling while that woman pats, and caresses and hugs him like he’s her own. This is too much.
In the center of the space, a small fire crackles in a pit. Smoke curls, disappearing into a tiny opening in the ceiling. The air—more like the smell, hits me like a punch to the face—human body odor, rancid meat, and the stale, trapped cave breath that horror movies are made of. My scalp prickles and the sound of a train blows through my mind. Is this really happening? I fling my hand over my mouth and bolt toward the entrance, throwing Amelia off balance, but I can’t help it. I can’t…
Amelia struggles after me, moaning and dragging her splinted leg. “Wait!” She bends over, bracing her hands on her knees and sucking in great gulps of air. “Oh my god, Darcie! What’re we gonna do?” She grips my arm, trying to balance herself and the tremble of her body matches mine. Beads of sweat gather on her lip and forehead as she winces. “She thinks Andrew is her baby! We’ve got to get him out of here!”
Her whisper is like a tiny spear to my heart. She’s not telling me anything I wasn’t already thinking, but hearing it aloud sends me spiraling into a full panic attack. I sweep a shaky hand across my forehead, then bury my hands under my armpits. Yeah. What are we gonna do?