The Guardians of Island X (9 page)

“Why don’t I go find us some fruit to go with those nuts?” Jem offered, and he slipped away before Uncle Finn could object. He was certain Thomas would insist on helping catalog, which would leave him free to work on the tree houses.

He hadn’t gone far when he came upon a group of Lost Souls sitting on the damp ground, and he had only a moment to wonder what they were up to before a voice cut through the mist.

“Attention all Lost Souls!” the voice announced. “Feast your eyes on the latest and greatest island warrior and his trusty sidekick!”

Smitty stepped out from behind a misty curtain, shouting into a big rolled-up leaf. This time he wore a massive headpiece made of green parrot feathers, and he’d again decorated his face in purple stripes and polka dots. On his bare chest he’d drawn a bird. Smitty placed his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest so they could all admire his artwork.

Liam stepped out, too, looking not nearly as proud of his ensemble. And no wonder, because while Smitty had dressed himself like a bird, he’d chosen a seashore theme for Liam. The younger boy wore a seaweed headscarf and matching skirt.

Smitty wiggled his eyebrows, cleared his throat, and burst into song:

“The Deadly Parrot of Death?” Monty echoed.

“That’s rather repetitive,” Tim commented.

“Shhh,” Smitty said. He continued.

On cue, Liam held up a pebble. “There is one good thing about this costume.” He pulled out a slingshot made of seaweed and driftwood, then loaded the pebble into its clamshell pocket and let it fly, just above the Lost Souls’ heads. The crowd’s laughter turned to
ooh
s of admiration.

“Nice slingshot, Liam!”

“Now that’s a good way to fight off those scalawags!”

“Ah, but look what I’ve got!” Smitty cried, not to be outdone. He produced a bow of sorts, made with a curved stick and some thin rope. Then he took a stick that he’d whittled to a point at one end, fitted it into the bow, and let it fly. It sailed about three feet before nose-diving into the grass.

The Lost Souls howled.

“Nice try, Deadly Parrot!”

“Give it to me! I bet I can do it!”

Jem chose that moment to slip away. Costumes and new weapons were all fine and good, but he had tree houses to build. He’d wasted enough time already. With pirates and King’s Men on the island, he had to get to work.

“Today I’ll finish the floor and start on the walls,” he muttered to himself, hurrying into the trees, “which shouldn’t be—
oof!
” Jem ran smack into someone hurrying out of the trees and tumbled backward into a shrub with very prickly leaves. “Argh!” He rolled to the side, trying to see who or what he’d collided with.

Gil lay in a pile of leaves a few feet away, rubbing his elbow. For a moment he looked dangerously close
to throwing a temper tantrum, then seemed to change his mind.

“You all right, mate?”

“Fine,” Jem grumbled, although he felt as if a hundred tiny ants had marched up his shirt to sting his neck and shoulders.

“Sorry ’bout that, Fitz. Didn’t see you coming.” Gil stood and offered Jem a filthy hand up.

Jem grunted and picked himself up without Gil’s help. “What are you doing?”

“Me?” Gil looked away. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Not really.” He brushed off his dirty shirt without looking at Jem.

“You were in the jungle at daybreak doing nothing?” Jem asked, immediately suspicious.

Gil sniffed. “If you have to know, I was…you know. Doing my business.”

“Oh.” Jem couldn’t say much to that.

“That’s right. And what about you?”

“I’m going to build tree houses.”

“Huh. Well, good luck with that.” Gil slipped past him, headed toward the clearing.

“Wait, Gil, one second.” Jem couldn’t help but ask. “Have you…have you seen my pocketknife lately?”

Gil stopped and looked back. “No. Why?”

“Because it’s missing. And I…well, I just…” Jem trailed off. He really had no good reason to accuse Gil of stealing it. Except that, the last time it had gone missing…

“Thought I stole it?” Gil snapped. “Oh, that’s nice. You didn’t think that maybe you just lost it. Or that someone or something else might have taken it. Nope, you just blamed it on me.”

“Well, you
did
do it before,” Jem mumbled.

“Well, I didn’t do it this time!” Gil shouted and stomped off.

Jem watched him go.
I probably shouldn’t have said anything
, he thought.
Now he’ll be awful to deal with.

He shook his head. “Focus now. The tree houses are what matter most. I’ve got to—”

A rustling noise in a nearby fern made him freeze. “Gil?” he called, even though he knew Gil had stomped off in the opposite direction.

The rustling stopped.

Jem inched toward the fern, hoping that by some miracle it was indeed Gil trying to scare him. Or if not Gil, something harmless. Like an iguana. A friendly, toothless one.

He paused and took a deep breath. Then he swept the fern leaves to one side just in time to see a large figure disappearing into the bushes behind it. A figure dressed in torn trousers and an old shirt.

Without a doubt, a pirate.

This time when Scarlet tromped through the jungle, she barely gave her bootless feet a thought. This time she had something far more important on her mind.

Jem’s pirate sighting that morning had chased away all her other worries. The thought of a
Dark Ranger
dog so close to the clearing jolted her into action. There was no sense in sitting around planning for when they got attacked. It was time for offensive action. It was time for…

Operation Island Espionage.

Thankfully, the Lost Souls had agreed. In fact, everyone had clamored to take part in this mission, which would involve sneaking through the jungle to find out where the pirates and King’s Men were camped—something they should have done immediately. There was no time to lose.

Jem, Tim, Liam, and Edwin now marched behind her, looking more determined than she’d seen them in weeks. Tim hadn’t even mentioned his beloved
Hop
since Scarlet had announced this mission. She glanced over her shoulder and nodded, satisfied. This was how things ought to be. The Lost Souls didn’t wait to get attacked, no, sir.

Scarlet had chosen her spies wisely, selecting only those she knew wouldn’t mind splitting up to investigate
on their own. For there was another part to this mission that she hadn’t told them about—and
couldn’t
tell them about. She needed time to herself so she could see her father again.

She wasn’t exactly sure why she wanted to see the admiral. She still hadn’t forgiven him for abandoning her with Scary Mary. And yet, for some strange reason, she simply had to see him. Even if just from afar.

Jem had brought along his map and was calling out directions, trying to steer them toward the clearing where he and Scarlet had seen the pirates and King’s Men. He claimed he was certain that they were headed the right way, but Scarlet wasn’t so sure. Above her, the afternoon sun trickled through the forest canopy, speckling the jungle floor with gold. A cicada chorus whined. A few aras flapped by, trailed by a cloud of black-and-white checkered butterflies. But nothing looked familiar to her.

Nothing, that is, until the big toe on her left foot lodged once again into a twisted root and sent her sprawling. Scarlet had just begun to hurl the worst pirate curses she knew when she recognized the root. “You scuttling scourge of the—hey! Hurray!”

Tim peered down at her over his spectacles. “Hurray? Cap’n, your toe’s bleeding like a fountain. Here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dark blue handkerchief.

“I know! What luck!” Scarlet cried, wrapping the cloth around her poor toe, injured twice in three days. “This is the root I tripped on last time we were here. That means we’re on the right track!”

“It also means you should be wearing boots,” Edwin quipped. Scarlet tossed him a cutlass glare.

“See,” Jem said proudly. “This is a very accurate map.”

“I think I’ve been here before, too,” said Liam. “That’s where Smitty and I found the squash he made me wear.” He pointed off to the right.

“I didn’t know squash grew in the jungle,” said Tim.

“Maybe the Islanders grew them,” Liam suggested.

“Maybe.” They both turned to Scarlet for an answer, and she shrugged. Vegetables weren’t high on her list of things she wanted to recall.

“Right, then,” said Jem. “I’ll add the squash to the map. And the tripping root, too. Maybe that way you’ll avoid it next time.” Scarlet shot another cutlass glare, this time in his direction. He grinned and offered her a hand up.

“Well, at least we know where we are.” She stood and dusted off her trousers, then continued on, trying to ignore the gigantic blue bandage on her foot.

They reached the other clearing in surprisingly little time. The blue butterflies still lazed around the stream running through it. “All right, spies,” Scarlet said, “gather round. This is the place. Those swabs must be camped close by, and wherever they are, the King’s Men can’t be far. Let’s each pick a corner of this clearing and explore the jungle beyond it. Go quietly and don’t forget which way you came. We can’t have anyone getting lost and stumbling into enemy territory.”

Scarlet stuck her fist into the center of their huddle. The Lost Souls piled theirs on top.

“No prey, no pay, mateys.”

“No prey, no pay!” they whispered, excited to hear the old chorus.

“And may you die peacefully in your sleep rather than at the paws of that mousy Captain Wallace.”

“Die peacefully!”

“I’ll take that corner over there. Meet back here in…” Scarlet paused. Timing was difficult now that there wasn’t a clock to be found. “A while.”

The Lost Souls scattered across the clearing. Scarlet headed for her corner, hoping that the island would steer her toward the King’s Men. On her way, she detoured past the shrub in which she and Jem had hidden and grabbed a fistful of its purple flowers. She placed one on the ground as she slipped into the trees, hoping it would still be there when she needed to find her way back.

The going was slow. This part of the jungle was even thicker than the one they’d just passed through. Scarlet dropped another flower and pushed her way through.

As she shuffled along under the whining cicadas, she wondered exactly what she’d do if she did see her father. Would she hang back and spy on him? Or pop right out and say hello? No, she couldn’t do that, not after all this time. What would she say, anyway? “Well now, Father, fancy meeting you in the depths of the jungle on the island of my birth. Long time no see!”

And would she even
want
to talk to him? He had, after all—

Swish.

Scarlet paused, wondering if she’d imagined that—

Swish. Swoosh.

Fortunately, there was no shortage of hiding spots. Scarlet chose a tree whose giant roots lay above the ground, almost as high as her waist. She crouched behind one of the roots and peeked over the top just in time to see a man in a blue coat walk by swinging a machete.
Swish. Swoosh.
Ferns and vines fell around him as he slashed a trail through the jungle. Scarlet cringed. She had yet to feel the distress of any island plants, but she imagined they weren’t pleased at getting hacked up. The Lost Souls had long ago put away their machetes and let the island vegetation grow wherever it wanted to.

The King’s Man stopped and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He might have been twenty, but his wispy blond hair and chubby face reminded Scarlet of a toddler. Once he’d passed, she slipped out from her hiding spot and followed him.

He took quick, nervous steps as if he couldn’t wait to get out of the jungle and back to his tent. A snake’s tail disappearing into a pile of leaves made him yelp. A vine tickling his neck made him swing his weapon wildly. Scarlet kept back a safe distance, fairly certain this yellow-belly would lead her right where she wanted to go.

Sure enough, within minutes Scarlet found herself on the edge of yet another clearing, this one filled with gray canvas tents and men dressed in blue. Three King’s Men studied a compass while two others chopped wood. Porridge bubbled on the fire, and the yellow-belly hurried over for his share of the steaming mush.

Scarlet parted the ferns a crack, studying the scene. There was something odd about it, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Something that made her uneasy. She thought hard until she realized that she was feeling uneasy because the animals and spirits in this area were, too.

She squeezed her eyes shut, then looked at the clearing again. And realized exactly what was wrong.

“Shivers,” she breathed. “I’m home.”

The King’s Men had gone and set up camp right where her old village had once stood. Their canvas tents sat right where the Islanders’ huts once sat. Scarlet trembled, wondering what had happened to the huts. Had the Islanders taken them down? Or had they been destroyed by weather and intruders, crumbling to nothing, leaving no trace of the village that once housed Scarlet’s family and so many others?

And more importantly, what the flotsam was her father doing camped here? Surely he hadn’t led his men here just to cut down trees and trample the earth with their big old boots.