War on Whimsy (15 page)

“No more than a few weeks,” said Henry cheerfully. “If we run all the way. And if we avoid Volcomanian bubble-bombs.”

There was silence as the Space Brigade digested this distressing new information.

“I don't want to leave my family in a prison camp for that long!” said Shimlara.

“Is there no quicker way to get there?” asked Nicola desperately. The thought of running like that every day was enough to make her long to be back on Earth, sitting comfortably in the passenger seat of her mother's car, watching joggers run by.

“But how else could we get there?” asked Henry. “If only we were birds, we could flap our wings and soar, but alas, we are not!”

“What if we had a canoe?” said Tyler. “We could just canoe straight down the river.”

“Canoe?” said Henry, in a way that showed the word was unfamiliar to him.

“They obviously don't have canoes on this planet,” said Greta.

Tyler looked around him for inspiration.

He ran to a nearby tree and snapped off a branch. “We could make a raft!”

“Roft?” said Henry. “What is a roft?”

“Could we make one that wouldn't sink?” asked Sean.

“And how would we bind the branches together?”

“With this,” said Greta, and she bent down and picked up a length of green curly vine from the shore of the river. She tugged on both ends to demonstrate its strength. “Perfect.”

“But we don't know
how
to make a raft,” said Katie. “Do we?”

“Greta and I will work it out,” said Tyler. Greta was in Girl Scouts and Tyler was good at woodwork.

Greta beamed. “You guys just relax,” she said. “And we'll take care of it.”

“I don't think it's
natural
,” said Henry.

“You're just nervous,” said Nicola. “It's perfectly safe.”

She and the rest of the Space Brigade were sitting together on the raft that Tyler and Greta had constructed. It was made of varying lengths of branch and tied together firmly with vine. Although it was a bit rough-looking, it did the job perfectly and was bobbing around merrily on the river. Nicola thought Tyler and Greta had done an amazing job (and judging by the pride on both their faces, so did they). The only problem was that Henry was refusing to climb aboard.

“I expect your roft will sink the moment I get on,” he said. “I know I appear skinny but I have very heavy bones!”

“It's a
raft
, not a roft, and it won't sink,” said Greta unsympathetically. “Just hurry up and get on!”

But Henry seemed frozen on the spot, just like Nicola had been before she went scuba diving.

He needed a reason to move.

Nicola said loudly to Katie, “Look at the way the moonlight creates a pathway over there! Wouldn't that make a lovely painting!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Nicola saw Henry craning his head to see the moonlit pathway.

Katie caught on right away. “Oh, yes, and the contrast between the grainy texture of the raft against the water is so . . . um,
visually interesting.
”

Henry didn't hesitate. He waded purposefully through the water toward the raft. “I must see that contrast!”

“On you hop, then.” Sean dragged him up onto the raft.

“Oh, yes, I see what you mean.” Henry lay down on his stomach to examine the water against the wood. “That is lovely! If I only had my sketch—oh my, we appear to be moving!”

The Space Brigade had all picked up the makeshift oars they had created out of tree branches and were paddling furiously.

The raft sped off bumpily down the river. It rocked around a lot, and Nicola noticed water was seeping through the gaps in between the branches, but apart from that it was quite stable.

“Well done, you two,” she said to Tyler and Greta.

“Thank you,” said Tyler.

“Yes, well, that's why I think everyone should be a Girl or Boy Scout,” said Greta. “It should be a
requirement
of Space Brigade membership. It teaches you so many useful skills.”

“Goodness! We're moving so quickly! The shore is just
whipping
by! I've never experienced a sensation like it!” Henry Sweet sat up in the middle of the raft with an enchanted expression on his face like a toddler on a merry-go-round. “We'll reach Griddlemill in no time! We're moving—and yet my legs are still!”

“Can I ask you a question, Henry?” said Tyler.

“Certainly!” said Henry agreeably.

“Has your planet invented the wheel?”

Henry frowned. “The wheel? Wheels?”

Tyler struggled to explain what he meant. “It's like a circular, ah, disc—and it spins on an axis. It's sort of the basis of all transport.”

“That sounds like a very interesting object,” said Henry, obviously trying to be polite.

“You really need to invent the wheel,” said Tyler. “It would change everything.”

“Yes, well, we'll certainly look into it,” said Henry vaguely.

“Oh, my goodness, we must be going by the Village of Song already! Listen! They sing throughout the night and sleep through the day.”

They listened, and an angelic sound filled the night air. It sounded like a young boy's voice holding one high, sweet note. It was so unbelievably pure it gave Nicola goosebumps. Then other voices joined in, their voices harmonizing to create a rainbow of sound.

Katie dropped her oar on the raft. Tears rolled down her face.

“I must go there,” she said. “I have to go there!”

She dived off the side of the raft and began to swim toward the shore.

“Katie!” shrieked Nicola. “What are you
doing
?”

“Ah, well, if she appreciates music that's the last you'll see of her,” said Henry. “Music appreciators find it impossible to leave the Village of Song. Your friend will grow old there.”

Without a word, Sean and Shimlara dropped their oars and dove into the river to bring her back.

“Leave me alone!” cried Katie, when she saw them coming after her. “I must get to that music!”

“Stuff her ears with leaves!” called out Henry, as the sound of singing grew even louder. “It's the only way!”

Shimlara scooped up some leaves floating by, grabbed Katie, and pushed them into her ears.

“No, no! I must hear it! Let me hear it!”

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” Shimlara was almost crying, as Katie fought against her like a drowning person.

“It's for your own good,” said Sean, grabbing Katie in the lifesaving hold.

He and Shimlara dragged Katie back onto the raft.

“Paddle!” ordered Nicola, when everyone was back on board. She wanted to get away from the singing.The more she heard, the more she began to think it would be an excellent idea to jump in and swim to the Village of Song herself. She and Katie could go together and spend the rest of their lives doing nothing but listening to the blissful sound of—
No! Stop thinking like that! You would never see your family again!

Water flew as everyone paddled like crazy. The raft flew around a bend in the river. The sound of singing grew fainter and finally vanished altogether.

Katie sat up and pulled the leaves from her ears.

“I'm sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I don't know what came over me.”

“I'm sorry for being so rough with you,” said Shimlara.

“Oh, no,
I'm
sorry for putting you in such a difficult situation,” said Katie.

“And
I'm
sorry I have to listen to you girls go on and on about how sorry you are,” said Sean.

“Are there any more villages like that coming up?” Nicola asked Henry.

“No,” said Henry. “The river will make its way through the Sublime Mountains and then we'll be in Griddlemill.”

They spent the next few hours quietly paddling their way down the river, their arms beginning to ache from the effort.

“How are you going to rescue the Gorgioskios from the prison camp?” asked Henry at one point.

“We don't know,” admitted Nicola.“We'll work something out once we see what we're up against.”

Henry nodded. He was lying on his back close to the edge of the raft and letting one hand trail through the water. It didn't seem to have occurred to him to offer to help out with the paddling.

“How are you going to win the war against Volcomania?” Sean asked Henry.

Henry blinked. “Well, I expect we're going to lose. I don't really see there's much point in even trying. Those Volcomanians are really a rather
rough
sort of people.”

“That's not the right attitude,” said Sean. “Are you a man or a mouse?”

“I believe I'm a man,” said Henry confusedly. “What's a mouse?”

But there was no time for Sean to explain because the river had suddenly changed its nature, like a quiet person losing their temper. It was no longer meandering peacefully through the mountains. It was a raging torrent of white water.

“Why didn't you warn us, Henry?” cried Nicola over the roar of the water, as her oar was snatched from her grasp and the raft was flung around like a flimsy piece of driftwood.

“About what?” called back Henry.

“About
this
!”

“I always wanted to go white-water rafting!” shouted Sean joyously, as if he were on a roller-coaster ride.

“Well, I didn't!” yelled back Nicola.

The raft flew into the air and crashed down again, only just missing being smashed to smithereens against the side of a boulder.

Nicola felt as though she were being tossed around like a carrot in a stir-fry.

“Forget paddling!” yelled Tyler. “
Just hold on!
”

Silence. Stillness. The scent of roses.

Nicola tentatively opened her eyes. Had they really survived that? Her memories of the last ten minutes of her life seemed to be broken into tiny pieces, like jagged fragments of glass.

She could remember:

And then suddenly it was all over. The roaring sound stopped. The raft became wonderfully still.

Nicola sat up. The rest of the Space Brigade and Henry were all lying flat on their backs on the raft. Everyone was drenched through. The mountains were behind them and the river had widened. It was now flat and tranquil. The raft was barely moving. Above them, the sky was becoming lighter and the stars were fading.

“Dawn,” said Henry Sweet, sitting up. “My favorite time of the day.” He looked at Nicola. “Have you ever seen a Whimsian dawn?”

Nicola shook her head.

“You're about to see something you'll never forget.”

Nicola could see the curve of Whimsy's giant sun glimmering on the horizon. The light began to change. Everything was bathed in a fine gold mist, as if someone was sprinkling the planet with gold dust. Streaks of peach, cherry, and mango slowly appeared across the sky, as if that same person was now lazily trying out paint colors on a canvas. As the sun rose higher, the colors deepened and became more beautiful, like an orchestra reaching its crescendo.

By the time the sun was hovering over the horizon like a burning coin, Whimsy's birds were singing and the Space Brigade was all sitting up, lifting their faces to the soft, warm rays.

Henry raised his eyebrows at Nicola.

“Incredible,” she agreed.

“My life's goal is to paint a Whimsy dawn,” he said. “I've tried it a hundred times but I never quite capture its essence. One day I will.”

“Unless Volcomania wins the war,” said Nicola.

“What do you mean?” said Henry.“I'll still paint! Painting is my life! I would never stop. I paint every day of my life.”

“Yes, but if Volcomania wins the war, everyone will be put in artistic factories. You'll have to paint what they tell you to paint. You'll be on a schedule.”

“A
schedule
? Me? I couldn't paint to a schedule!”

“You might have to,” said Nicola. She didn't mean to be cruel. She just wanted Henry to understand what this war could mean to his planet.

“That's why you have to fight,” said Sean.

“That's why you have to
defend
yourselves,” said Nicola.

Henry stared at them. His mouth opened as if he were going to say something but no sound came out.

“Is this Griddlemill?” interrupted Shimlara. “I can smell the roses.”

Henry cleared his throat and looked around. He pointed at the shore, where dozens of rosebushes were growing. “That's Griddlemill there. There's a beautiful picnic spot through—oh. Oh dear.” He dropped his hand.

“What is it?” said Nicola.

She looked where he'd been pointing and saw an ugly tangle of vicious-looking barbed wire rising high in the air above the roses.

“They've built a prison camp over our picnic area,” said Henry. “That's where I proposed to my wife!” He leaped to his feet, causing the raft to rock alarmingly. “These people are barbarians! They must be stopped!”

“Now you're talking,” said Sean.