“So what’s the plan?” I ask. “I’m really feeling like this isn’t such a good idea.”
“You worry too much, Lily Rose,” says Henry Jack. “Look at the bright side: so far everything has gone just fine.”
“So far,” I reply, “we’ve only been gone like an hour.”
“I don’t need this kind of negativity,” Henry Jack says, and then he snickers. “You need to relax.”
“It’s not very relaxing to run away with an elephant in the middle of the night!” I say. “What exactly are we going to do, anyway?”
“I’m thinking of a place where we can maybe hide her here, in the woods, at least until we tell your grandma what we heard Mike and Charlie say. And then we talk her into giving it another try with Queenie Grace, after calling the cops on Mike and Charlie.”
“That’s not going to work. And anyway, how long can you hide an elephant?”
Nervousness gnaws away at me. Henry Jack says nothing; he just walks with his head bent forward and down.
“Seriously,” I say, “we can’t exactly hide her. She’s enormous! Plus, like, she has to be fed a lot, and watered, and . . .”
Henry Jack stops walking. He looks at me.
“You may be right,” he says. “Maybe we do need a better plan.”
“So can we go back and talk about this some more? Maybe tell my grandma what’s going on?”
He sighs.
“All right,” he says. “You talked me into it.”
But then he puts his nose up in the air like a bloodhound.
“I smell cigar smoke,” Henry Jack hisses. “I have a nose for Charlie the Fire-Eater. He’s somewhere close, I’d bet you a million dollars.”
“I don’t smell it,” I whisper. There’s a breeze and leaves rustle on the trees. It’s spooky here, in the woods, at night. We’re at least a mile from Grandma’s place, and we’ve been walking for ages. We forgot to bring a flashlight.
“I smell it,” Henry Jack says. “I can smell Charlie a mile away.”
He pats Queenie Grace’s back.
“Still,” he says gently to the elephant. “Be still, Queenie Grace.”
She obeys, standing motionless as an elephant can stand, moving nothing but her ears. I feel the slight breeze from the flapping of those big ears.
Henry Jack tips back his head, listening, sniffing.
“Okay,” he whispers. “My radar nose has it figured out. I smell campfire smoke, plus Charlie’s cigar. We need to get the heck out of here. Follow me.”
My heart races. I’m dizzy.
“Walk as lightly as you can,” Henry Jack instructs. “That means you, too, Queenie Grace.”
Henry Jack, Queenie Grace, and I try to walk lightly in the direction of my grandma’s place, clenching our teeth as twigs snap and crack beneath our feet.
“Shh,” he says. “Dang, we’re going in the wrong direction. My nose failed me, for once.”
“What do you mean?” I whisper. My heart hammers in my ears. We three come to a stop. Branches brush against my face.
“See?”
Through the trees and the leaves, there’s the flicker of fire. Orange: a campfire, flaming high.
“It’s him,” Henry Jack whispers. “He’s eating fire, see?”
I do see. Charlie wears his cowboy hat. He tips his head back, swallows the fire. Mike’s here, too, and another man we don’t know.
“Must be Gus,” Henry Jack whispers. “The Gus he mentioned.”
“So how much money will we make?” asks the stranger.
“A lot,” Charlie replies. “Plenty. More money that I’ve seen in a heck of a long time.”
“More money than we’ve seen,” Mike says. “Split three ways, remember?”
Henry Jack nudges me. He points and mouths the word “Run.”
We do. Henry Jack and Queenie Grace and me. We run as fast as we can, as far as we can, thundering through the forest, and then we stop to catch our breath at the edge of the woods. Queenie Grace is trembling.
“Don’t worry,” says Henry Jack to the elephant. “We’ll take care of you, girl. We’ll protect you. Saving you is our number one priority.”
Something buzzes around my face: a mosquito or a bee. I didn’t think they came out at night. I slap it away, and next thing you know, Queenie Grace turns and stampedes right back into the woods, crashing through branches.
“Queenie Grace!” Henry Jack yells. “Stop!”
She keeps going.
“We’ve got to get her!” Henry Jack says. “Come on!”
Queenie Grace tramples loudly through the woods, right in the direction of the three men and the campfire. We chase after her.
“Stop,” hisses Henry Jack. “Stop, Queenie Grace.”
But the elephant doesn’t listen. We run fast as we can after her, but she just keeps on going and next thing you know, we’re at the fire. The flames light Queenie Grace’s face.
“Hey!” yells Mike. “There it is! What the heck . . .”
The man Gus jumps up. He lunges for Queenie Grace. So do Mike, and Charlie, the three of them all going at once for Queenie Grace. Three grown men against one old elephant.
I draw in a breath, terrified. I try to grab Henry Jack.
But he’s moving too fast. Henry Jack leaps forward, jumping on Mike’s back.
“Get off me!” Mike yells. The man Gus raises his fist and I see three letters tattooed into his knuckles: G U S.
“Don’t hit the kid!” Charlie shouts. “What do you want, to get arrested?”
I’m screaming and screaming, and finally realize that I do have a phone for emergencies. And this is an emergency. But then I remember: the phone is only for text messages. You can’t exactly text 911.
Queenie Grace knocks Gus to the ground with her trunk. Henry Jack scrambles up; so does Mike.
“Get him!” Mike yells. Charlie wraps an arm around Henry Jack’s waist, holding him tight.
Queenie Grace whacks Charlie with her trunk, and then she puts one foot on the man Gus, pinning him to the ground, protecting Henry Jack and protecting herself and protecting me. You can tell that she’s not placing much weight on Gus. She’s just keeping him down.
She keeps him there, on the ground, in the woods.