Jackson’s heart pounded as he ran down the hallways, desperately trying to follow Alfonso. But after three turns, Alfonso had disappeared, and Jackson found himself back at the main root system where they had been tying rags. He ran to hide behind a very large root.
Little footsteps skittered across the ground (that’s 13,944 feet) and then stopped. Jackson waited, holding his breath as best as he could. He peeked around the corner.
A large semi-circle of squirrels all stood at attention, their black, inquisitive eyes staring hard at Jackson. Jackson had no idea what to do.
Ralph moved forward about ten steps and then stopped. Jackson breathed hard. He had to do something, but what?
He looked around him frantically. Was there anything in his satchel that would help? He couldn’t throw a water bottle at them—that would only take out one or two at best. He couldn’t throw his flashlight—even then he could only take out a few. And he didn’t have time to make a macramé net out of his toilet paper. (Macramé is the art of tying knots to make horribly tacky planters and wall-hangings.)
But then Jackson saw the bag that Alfonso had abandoned. He slowly reached out and grabbed the strap, sliding the bag toward him. He jammed his hand inside (which probably wasn’t a good idea, as you never know what you’re going to find if you jam your hand into something without looking to see what’s in it first).
Jackson’s hand hit something disgustingly gooey. He pulled his hand out and sniffed.
Peanut butter.