Simon Bloom

The next morning, my Viewing Screen showed me the interior of that mud hut where Simon and his friends were asleep. Minutes ticked by, and they continued to sleep. I checked my wristwatch (official, custom-made for Historical Society Narrators) and considered nipping back to my bedroom for a nap.

Then a squat, rectangular alarm clock went off in the hut, delivering a mild buzzing sensation directly into the bodies of the four sleepers. Each of them sat up, jolted by the unpleasant but very effective alert.

Simon, a bit cranky from having stayed up too late, thought of reaching out for the alarm clock. In response, a gravity arm reached out, coiled around the clock, and smashed it against the far wall.

“Yeah, did your powers change in that lake so now you can see the future, or did an octopus come to you while you slept and tell you or what?”

“No. I felt a strange twitch in space-time; something made Sirabetta really stand out. I’m almost positive she’s in the rain forest. Beneath it, maybe.”

“Okay,” Flangelo chirped. “We’ll take a pool to the outskirts of the jungle and explore until we find her.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. It was a map of the pools: a maddening tangle of different colored lines that showed no sense of organization as the routes criss crossed one another.

Simon looked away. He didn’t know how he knew. Maybe his contact with the Order of Biology’s Book had forged some sort of connection to the domain.

Flangelo guided the cruiser, gliding across the desert to the transporting pool they needed. It was an isolated spot, far from the border they’d originally crossed and the other mud huts they’d passed.

Flangelo drove the cruiser in a circle around the pool’s unmoving surface, staring out of the large window as he went. He scanned the patches of shallow grass and brittle bushes, checking for any sign of surprise enemies lying in wait.

Finally he parked the cruiser, closed the black box around the steering column, and followed the kids outside. They all flinched from the change in temperature; the dry heat felt almost physical, like standing near a pizza oven. Compared to the climate control in the mud hut, it was awful.

“Okay, you know the drill,” Flangelo said. “One at a time, feetfirst,” he said, directing his stare at Alysha.

She bared her teeth at him and stepped into the pool. Owen carefully followed her, and Simon hopped in after. Flangelo went last and, in an instant, was beside the kids at the outskirts of the jungle region. They were suddenly up to their ankles in thick, moist grass and, worse, sticky humidity.

“Focus on the present, squidlings,” Flangelo said, “I suggest you let mini-motormouth do his camouflage trick on you. There are plenty of animals that could attack you in there, and it’s a lot harder to see them coming when you’re in the thick of it.”

They all joined hands and Owen activated his camouflage. Within seconds, his chromatophores spread across them, making them blend in with the air and grass around them. They turned to face the rain forest one hundred yards away.

The trees were very different from those in Dunkerhook Woods. Many had thin, almost white bark, while others had a rough, dark coating on them. Most were tall and some were thick, but they weren’t nearly as massive as Dunkerhook’s. They compensated for their lack of size with attitude, though. Most had their upper branches intertwined in a way that made them look like they were huddling together. Like they were ganging up on someone. It was not a welcoming effect.

Simon made them weightless, and Owen flew them onward; as they got closer, Simon noticed a variety of leaves, including several broad, prehistoric-looking ones poking out in various directions. The vegetation was thick and lush along the border, but that was nothing compared to the top.

The dense leaf-coated branches above formed a canopy: an impenetrable-looking roof. “I don’t think we should try to fly through that,” Simon said with a frown. Their camouflage did nothing to hide their scent or the sound they made, and crashing through that canopy would not be quiet.

“I’ve seen TV shows about jungles,” Owen said. “There could be apes, monkeys, snakes, leopards. Gigantic spiders. Tiny poisonous frogs.”

“And that’s in modern jungles,” Flangelo said. “This one could have beasts and bugs from any time period, all only too happy to try to munch on us. Trust me, you don’t want to meet a prehistoric insect.”

Simon and his friends landed at the edge of the jungle; holding hands to maintain the camouflage, they followed Simon’s lead one by one. Owen came next, then Alysha and Flangelo in the back. With a gentle tugging, Simon guided them toward the least wall-like part of the heavy vegetation at the border.

As he stepped into the biome, Simon was struck by how dark it was. Though the dome’s artificial light source made the morning bright and sunny outside the jungle, the ceiling of branches and layers of leaves allowed only for a dim, gloomy view inside it. Vines and creepers of different thicknesses wrapped around many of the trees. Others hung down from branches, some reaching all the way to the jungle floor.

It was hard to walk without brushing against some type of plant, especially since the group had to keep their hands linked. They moved in a straight line and tried to be as stealthy and alert as possible.

That level of caution was stressful enough, but the atmosphere made things really unpleasant. It was less hot than the desert or the savannah, but the humidity was terrible. The air had a thick, clinging feel that made breathing a labor. Each moment was sweatier than the one before, especially for their clasped palms. Every step was like trying to walk through a wet, stinky sponge.

The stench was ripe and always present: the odor of decay mixed with vibrant life stung the group’s nostrils and tongues. The closest comparison would be to take a few thousand rotten eggs and sprinkle them with a ton of cedar chips. Add in a lot of dead plants, some fresh flowers, and a dash of paprika, and there it was—not quite eau de rain forest, but close enough.

Then there was the noise. Unlike the barren desert they’d just left, the jungle was a thriving ecosystem. Every second provided another sound: a buzzing insect, a croaking frog (often trying to eat a buzzing insect), a squawking bird (sometimes going after a frog), or some sort of mammal. Whether swinging among the trees, ambling along the ground, or dozing on a branch, the mammals didn’t seem interested in trying to eat the birds. They were still pretty loud, though.

The rain forest floor wasn’t sweetening the deal; it was covered in several inches of moist leaves, rotting branches, loose soil, and an assortment of colored molds, mosses, and fungi. Within minutes, the group’s feet and shins were coated in muck.

“Simon, you’d better be right about this,” Alysha whispered. “This is probably the most disgusting thing I’ve had to do.”

“Shhh!” Simon whispered. “We’re supposed to be sneaking!” He used the sleeve of his free arm to mop at the sweat on his forehead, and then he stared past a copse of dark green, ivylike plants. “We’re not too far.”

They went in silence after that, all aware that they were walking toward a deadly enemy and whatever surprises she’d gathered for them. It made them appreciate the muck they walked through; though unpleasant, at least it wasn’t trying to kill them.

For now, they were putting a lot of faith in Owen’s camouflage to give them the element of surprise. Fortunately, the noises their footsteps made were covered by the sounds of the jungle. Unfortunately, they didn’t notice the tracks they were leaving in the rain forest floor as they went.

But anything—or anyone—familiar with the sights and sounds of the jungle would be able to pick them out easily.