14

The Camp in the Jungle

Hattie flattened herself on the ground. Human voices drifted through the trees. Whoever it was, they were swinging a light back and forth. The underbrush crackled as they came closer.

“Well, I don’t see anything,” a woman said. “Let’s head back to the camp.”

“We should make a full loop just in case.” That voice was a man’s, deep and gruff. “And then report in.”

“Right-o!” the woman replied cheerfully.

Hattie’s heartbeat pounded against the cool earth. They were only steps away. Had she stumbled onto the camp of the hunters? But Brand and his friends are all men. It can’t be them.

There was only one way to find out.

Quick as a flash, she scrambled to her feet. “It’s me—Hattie Swift! You know me! I’m from Majestica.”

They turned in surprise. The woman carried a spear made from a sharpened stick, while the man had a bushwhacking knife like Dowson’s. Both wore uniforms with an M on the pocket.

Hattie almost melted with relief. She’d found the wilderness crew.

“Oh, I know you.” The man looked down at her. “You’re that girl of Galliforma’s. The one who does odd jobs around the hotel.”

The woman lifted her torch to study her. “How did you get separated from the group?”

A wild shriek split the air. Hattie’s pulse galloped frantically. What kind of creature had made that sound?

A look passed between the crew members. “Not here,” the man said curtly. “We’ll talk when we’re safe in the camp. Fences are off. No telling what’s out there.”

Hattie’s heart sank. “You mean the Caretaker still isn’t working?”

The man shook his head. “It can’t have malfunctioned.”

“I keep telling you it must have!” the woman insisted. “Nothing like this has ever happened before.” They had clearly been arguing about this for a while. The woman tucked the spear into her belt. “Come on, follow us.”

The camp was bigger than Hattie had expected. For one thing, there was a cabin in the middle with a red number three on the door. A sea of people on sleeping bags and blankets surrounded it. The wilderness crew was dishing out soup from a steaming pot. Hattie spotted Rufus and his brother, their neighbors from the train, fighting over a box of crackers. She was glad they were safe. A huge campfire crackled merrily, casting dancing shadows on the tree trunks. But the guests huddled around it looked sweaty and miserable.

Relief washed over her. She had been so afraid she was the only one left. Something let go inside her, like a fist unclenching. Everything would be all right. The wilderness crew would get them back to the hotel safely.

“Hey, boss!” the girl from the woods sang out. “We picked up another kid.”

Matthew, the leader of the crew, reclined in a folding chair, his feet propped on a crate. Hattie’s cheeks warmed. She couldn’t help noticing how good he looked with his uniform sleeves rolled up, showing off tanned forearms. Matthew was very popular at Majestica. The maids were always gossiping about him.

“Another straggler?” He looked at Hattie as if she were a particularly strange insect. “What were you doing out in the jungle by yourself?”

“I’m Hattie Swift,” she said. “I work at the hotel.” That wasn’t quite the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. “And I wasn’t by myself. I found Secretary Wing trapped inside a tree.”

“Oh yes. We lost a few people back there.” Matthew picked dirt from under his fingernail with a knife. “Too bad about that. He was a nice old fellow. Bit foolish of him to get so close to the trees, though, wasn’t it?”

His friendly tour guide voice had vanished. If he knew they’d lost some of the guests, why was he just lounging around?

Hattie took a deep breath. “And I have bad news—Mr. Ridgewell is dead!”

Matthew’s reaction wasn’t what she’d expected.

“That’s not exactly news. We all saw the train crash into the Gorge, didn’t we? The boss was good at magic, but no one’s that good.” Matthew snapped his fingers. “I remember you! You’re that little girl who always follows the maids around.” He winked. “I should know. I also follow the maids around.”

Hattie’s patience was about to crack. Little girl. Ugh! The Caretaker wasn’t working, and there were a bunch of men with guns roaming the park. Not to mention the trees and their whispers about a dark power. Everyone was in danger, and he was just sitting there.

“When do we leave for the hotel?” she asked.

“The hotel? Oh, kid,” he said in a condescending voice, “we’re not going back to the hotel.”

Anger rose up inside her. “What do you mean?”

“And take a chance with those trigers? Not to mention the dragon. Something’s got her riled up. No, it’s better if we stay right here until help comes.”

“But—but you’re the wilderness crew!” she spluttered. “If anyone can get us across the savannah safely, it’s you. And what about those poor people in the trees? Aren’t you even going to try to rescue them?”

Matthew combed his fingers through his hair. “Now, see here. Morsewood’s the plant expert. This is all above my pay grade.”

Hattie gritted her teeth. Why on earth did all the maids like him? His face didn’t look handsome anymore. In fact, it looked decidedly punchable.

“But how can you be sure help is coming?” she asked. “If something’s wrong with the Caretaker, then the hotel might be in trouble.”

“Oh, so you’re full of conspiracy theories too! I keep telling everyone—nothing ever goes wrong with the Caretaker,” he scoffed. “There’s got to be another explanation.”

“Then why did the train stop?”

He shrugged. “Because that fool Brand blew it up.”

“But—”

Hattie stopped herself. The train had come to a halt several minutes before the explosion, but there was no point arguing with him. He was believing what he wanted to believe. He’s a coward, that’s what he is! She’d thought now that she had found the grown-ups, all her troubles were over. She had felt certain they would know what to do.

But they didn’t plan to do anything at all.

“Where’s Dowson?” Hattie searched the camp for his familiar face. “If you won’t help us get home, then he will.”

“Ran off with those poachers, didn’t he?” Matthew spat in the dust. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s in league with them after all.”

Hattie felt like someone had stabbed her in the heart. “No,” she whispered, “he wouldn’t.”

She only wished she could explain the look on Dowson’s face as he tenderly picked rocks out of a griffin’s paw. He cared about these creatures. If Dowson had been selling eggs on the black market, he must have needed the money. He must have had a good reason.

But hunting his creatures? Dowson would never do that. Never.

“I can only tell you what I saw.” Matthew leaned forward. “After we got everyone off the train, we ran right into those men. Dowson definitely knew the leader. Jack, he called him. The trees attacked us, and the men took their guns and left us to die. Your friend Dowson fumed for a bit. Then the next thing we knew, poof! Disappeared.” He admired his own reflection in his knife. “I say he went to join ’em.”

“You don’t know that!” Hattie exclaimed. “Maybe he went to stop them!”

“Who’s to say? But he still left us behind, didn’t he? And that doesn’t make us inclined to trust him.” He nodded toward the jungle. “Now, you aren’t a guest, but you aren’t one of the crew either. It’s not safe out there. Stick with us if you know what’s good for you.”

It took all her strength not to splutter with anger. But arguing with Matthew wasn’t getting her anywhere. Something twisted inside her. She had counted on the wilderness crew.

“One more thing…” she began. “Is there a Marchwilder boy here? His name is Jacob. He’s Secretary Wing’s apprentice.”

“No Marchwilders here.” Matthew shrugged. “Probably got snatched by the trees like his boss.”

“No,” Hattie said softly. “No, he didn’t.”

There went her last hope of finding help. Jacob was missing too. Please be all right, she thought hard into the universe, as if thinking it could make it real. Hattie swallowed. If she was going to get back to the hotel, she would have to do it alone.

Turning away, she scanned the crowded campsite. Someone had fashioned a table out of crates, with a canvas tarp strung over it to make a tent. The crates were stamped Emergency. She peeked into the nearest one. It was stuffed with rolled-up sleeping bags.

“Hattie? Hattie Swift?” a familiar voice sputtered in disbelief.

Hattie spun around. “Klara!”

The older girl squeezed Hattie in a rib-crushing hug. “You’re alive! I was so worried when we did a head count and I realized you weren’t here!” Leaning back, she grinned. “Well, look at you!”

Hattie glanced down at herself. Her braids had twigs sticking out of them, and her apron was covered with grease and mud. Mrs. G would pitch a fit if she could see her now. Why was Klara staring at her so proudly?

“Maybe you are wilderness crew material.” Klara thumped her on the shoulders. “Managing to survive alone in the jungle is no joke.”

“I wasn’t the only one left behind!” Hattie exclaimed. “You remember Secretary Wing? He and a bunch of other guests are trapped in the trees. They’re still alive!” She shook her head bitterly. “But Matthew won’t even try to save them.”

Klara’s voice turned solemn. “Hattie, he’s responsible for keeping the rest of the passengers safe. It’s serious business, especially with all these children. Splitting up isn’t a good idea.” She squeezed Hattie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, the hotel will send help. Morsewood knows exactly what to do. He’ll get those people out.”

Hattie didn’t feel so confident. How could Klara be so certain help would come? If the Caretaker was down, no one at the hotel would know what had happened. She squeezed her hands into fists. She had to get back.

Somehow.

She gestured at the crates. “Where did you get all this stuff?”

“Emergency supply point,” Klara explained. “There are seven of them scattered around the wilderness.” She pointed to a map on the makeshift table. “See the red Xs? Three in the jungle, four in the savannah.”

An excited spark lit up inside Hattie. All her problems would be solved if she could only get hold of that map. It would show her how to get safely back to the hotel.

“After we escaped from the trees, we herded up the guests and escorted them here.” Klara set her finger on an X near the edge of the jungle. “This is us. Camp Three.”

Hattie studied the map. A mile or two southwest of the camp, a dotted line crossed the river. She pointed at it. “What’s that?”

“Footbridge,” Klara said. “Dowson uses it when he comes out here to check on the creatures.” She glanced suspiciously at Hattie. “Hey…why are you asking?”

She shrugged, keeping her voice light. “No reason.”

Klara gave her a sharp look.

You shouldn’t have asked about the bridge. Now she thinks you’re up to something.

But Hattie was up to something. She would stay for dinner—her stomach grumbled just thinking about that soup. Then she’d find a way to grab that map and get out of there.

She changed the subject. “What kind of supplies are in the cabin?”

“Each emergency camp has enough food and water to last a week.” Klara nodded at the wilderness crew, who were unrolling red sleeping bags embroidered with the letter M. “Plus medical supplies and blankets.”

“Klara!” someone called. “Come help with the dishes!”

“Whoops! Got to run.” Klara threw a grin at her. “But before I go, there’s someone here who’ll be happy to see you.” She picked up a tarp draped over some first-aid kits, peering under it. “Now, where’s that little rascal gotten to?”

Something chirped—Hattie’s heart lifted—

With a flash, Jeffers popped into her arms. Chittering angrily, he tried to clamber up her dress. His tail wrapped around her neck, nearly strangling her.

“Ow! Ow!” Hattie gasped. He was pulling her hair. She squeezed his warm furry body. “I thought you were lost!”

The lemur made a forlorn sound, burying his face in her neck. His cool nose snuffled against her skin. He was shivering. Tears flooded Hattie’s eyes. He’d been afraid too.

She rested her face on his fur. “I missed you.” Stroking his tail, she murmured, “It’s all right. We’re together now.”

“That little one’s been sniffing mournfully around the camp.” Klara smiled. “Reckon he was looking for you.” She smacked the side of her head. “Oh! How could I forget? There’s someone else too. Showed up just before you did.”

Hattie followed her gaze to the campfire, where she spotted Jasper Foxfire eating a bowl of soup. A rakish scratch ran down his left cheek, and there were twigs stuck to his clothes. And beside him—

Hattie stopped in her tracks, her hand freezing on Jeffers’s fur. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming.

Sitting by the campfire was Evelyn Ridgewell.