Akiko and the Great Wall of Trudd (9 page)

With our bellies
full of Smud Burgers, we were all in a very good mood as we walked along the seemingly endless bridge. From the look of the sun in the sky, I figured it was early afternoon. Our goal was to make it to the end of the bridge by nightfall, but since we had no idea how long the bridge actually was, it was hard to tell how long it would take. We walked as fast as we could, though, just in case.

The longer we walked, the cooler the wind seemed to get. After an hour or two it definitely started to get colder. The sky began to cloud over, and the wind had a damp, chilly sting to it that hadn’t been there before. Mr. Beeba and I put our coats on first, followed by Gax and Poog (actually, I had to help Poog put his coat on, since he couldn’t do it by himself). Spuckler kept insisting that it wasn’t that cold, but finally even
he
gave in and put his coat on.

The sky got grayer and grayer, making it difficult to tell how late it was. Every once in a while the sun would break through the clouds, lighting up portions of the bridge and the water in dramatic bursts of white light. The surface of the Moonguzzit Sea became dark and very rough, with choppy little waves rippling under the bridge from one side to the other. I pulled the collar of my coat up against my cheeks and blew on my hands to keep them warm.

“Mr. Yabby was right,” Mr. Beeba said, half burying his head in his coat. “We are most
definitely
heading into a cooler climate.”

“Cold is good, Beebs,” Spuckler said optimistically. “Gets the blood churnin’.”

“
THE TEMPERATURE IS FAST APPROACHING THE POINT OF FREEZING, SIR,
” Gax announced with a jittery clicking noise. I wondered if the lower temperatures would be hard on Gax. I remembered this big ice storm we had in Middleton one time, and how hard it was for my dad to get our car started. Gax seemed to be doing pretty well, though, and I should probably have been more worried about myself. After all, I didn’t have any gloves or even a hat.

“Uh-oh,” Spuckler said, pointing a finger down the length of the bridge. “Looks like old Throck’s got another message for us.”

“Another message?” I asked.

“I think I see another of his li’l signposts down there in the middle of the bridge.”

Sure enough, there in the distance was a small wooden sign with the same scratchy writing on it, creaking back and forth in the icy wind. We all quickened our pace until we were close enough to read it. There was a part of me that really didn’t
want
to read it, to tell the truth.

It said:

STOP! TURN AROUND! GO BACK! RETURN TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM! IT WILL SOON BE TOO LATE TO RECONSIDER. THIS IS YOUR
FINAL
WARNING.

“F-final warning?” Mr. Beeba sputtered. “I don’t like the sound of
that
.”

“We must be getting closer to Alia’s castle,” Spuckler said, his breath making little white clouds in the air. “I wish old Throck would just come out and face us, ’stead of puttin’ up these corny signs.”

“I don’t
want
to face him,” I said, my voice trembling a little. “I don’t ever want to see him again!”

“Don’t you worry, ’Kiko,” Spuckler said, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I’ll protect ya. I won’t let Throck touch a hair on your head.”

“Yes, Akiko,” Mr. Beeba joined in. “Spuckler will protect all of us, you can be sure of that.”

“Hey, I didn’t say nothin’ about protectin’
you
, Beebs,” Spuckler said with a wink.

“Hmpf!” Mr. Beeba snorted. “Come on, let’s keep moving. It’s the only way to stay warm.”

So we stepped around the sign and left Throck’s “final warning” behind us. A few minutes later it started to snow.

Soon the entire surface of the bridge was covered with a fine dusting of white. It seemed to grow thicker by the minute, and before long there was a good inch or so of the stuff. With some amusement I glanced back at the various tracks we were making: my own
waffle-textured sneaker prints; Spuckler’s single footprint alternating with the little dash made by his peg leg; Mr. Beeba’s enormous round footprints; Gax’s narrow, wobbly tire tracks. If someone was following us, they’d be scratching their heads trying to figure out what sort of creatures we all were!

Every once in a while the wind would suddenly die down for a minute or two. Then we would find ourselves strolling through an oddly peaceful scene, surrounded by big white snowflakes against a charcoal-gray sky. It was almost totally silent, apart from the muffled crunch of our footsteps and the soft patter of the waves lapping up against the bridge. I could almost believe that there was nothing at all to be afraid of.

“Are my eyes playing tricks on me,” said Mr. Beeba as he peered through the drifting snowflakes, “or is that the end of the bridge up there?”

It was so dark that I couldn’t see much of
anything
. But as we continued walking, the outline of a faraway shore gradually became visible, with the dark outline of a mountainous horizon beyond it. We walked even faster, and before long the end of the bridge was plain for all of us to see.

We’d done it. We’d made it to the realm of Alia Rellapor.

“Hot diggity dog!
” Spuckler cried, obviously very pleased with our progress. “Get ready, Alia!” he added at the top of his lungs, cupping his hands around his mouth and sending his voice echoing over the hills. “We’re on our way!”

Gax buzzed and squeaked cheerfully. Even Poog had a big smile on his face.

I wasn’t happy
at all
, though. I know it doesn’t make much sense, but even though we’d spent days and days doing everything we could just to get here, now that we’d arrived I wanted nothing more than to turn around and go back.

“Don’t worry, Akiko,” Mr. Beeba whispered, almost as if he were reading my thoughts. “I’m just as frightened as you are. I’ve had moments when I secretly hoped we’d never even
make
it this far. But I’m sure that in the end everything will be okay.”

“Really?” I asked. “You promise?”

“Well, er,” he replied, gesturing nervously with his hands, “if you mean ‘promise’ in the sense of ‘guarantee,’ I’m afraid it would be rather disingenuous of me to imply, er—”

“Look, Mr. Beeba,” I interrupted, “just say yes, okay?”

He gave me a confused glance, then cleared his throat and spoke with a great show of confidence.

“Yes, of
course
I promise, Akiko. I promise, I
promise
.”

“Thanks.”

We stepped off the end of the bridge and into the blanket of snow covering the shore. There before us was the faint outline of a road stretching out over the hills.

The snow was thicker here by several inches, and it occurred to me that we might eventually have trouble following the trail. Not only that, but we had nowhere to spend the night! Surely we couldn’t just sleep out in the open. But we couldn’t keep walking all night, either. My head was starting to hurt and I began to really wish I were back at home in my bed, tucked under the covers, where I could just lean over, turn out the light, and—

GRRUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!

Suddenly there was this horrible rumbling sound in the sky above us. At first I thought it was thunder, but then I realized that the noise was getting steadily louder and more mechanical sounding.

“I’d know that noise anywhere,” Spuckler said. “It’s a Gotgazzer!”

“A Gotgazzer!” Mr. Beeba repeated, searching the skies frantically.

“What’s a Gotgazzer?” I asked.

“It’s a kind of spaceship. . . ,” Spuckler began.

Whatever he said after that was drowned out by the noise, which had now become so loud that Spuckler, Mr. Beeba, and I had to clamp our hands firmly over our ears. Gax was quivering, and Poog had floated down until he was nearly touching the ground.

A large black shape descended slowly from the sky in front of us. Bolts of flame shot out beneath it, allowing the ship to settle gently onto the ground like an enormous dragonfly. The snow whirled madly in all directions, preventing me from getting a good view of the thing. Then the rumbling abruptly stopped, leaving a weird humming sound in my ears.

The clouds of snow gradually disappeared into the air, and I could see the spaceship clearly for the first time. It was about thirty feet wide and curved like a boomerang, with the steely gray surface of an armored submarine. There were several different kinds of guns mounted on the wings, and a big round window in front that looked like it could have been taken from one of those gigantic old warplanes you always see in the movies. The entire surface had a dull shimmer, as if it had been carefully polished for years and years.

Suddenly a horrifying thought dawned on me: Throck! This was Throck’s spaceship, and he was coming out to confront us face to face.

My knees started shaking and the hairs on my neck stood up like the quills of a porcupine. My heart began to pound furiously, and I found myself breathing in short, frightened gasps. I’d never been so scared in all my life.

“Come on, Throck,” Spuckler whispered between clenched teeth. “Get out here and face us like a man.”

Gax began to shudder uncontrollably, and Mr. Beeba inched his way behind me, poking his head out like a kid hiding behind a tree. Poog, however, rose high into the air and stayed right where he was, floating calmly and proudly as if he wasn’t the least bit scared.

KA-CHAK!

There was a loud clicking sound as a door on top of the spaceship was unlatched.

FFSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSH!

It was that sound! The horrible sound of Throck’s suit, pumping gas out into the air like an old steam engine.

Slowly, menacingly, Throck’s head rose from the portal, his features lit from below with a greenish white light, allowing me to see his face clearly for the first time. His white hair stuck up from his head like the bristles of a scrub brush, cropped short on top, shaved to the scalp on the sides. His eyes were narrow and widely spaced, with tiny pale pupils, like the eyes of a snake. His cheeks were covered with tiny scars that looked like the stitching on a baseball. His nose and mouth were hidden by the same metallic cup we’d seen him wearing before. I guess he needed it to breathe, like a scuba diver on the depths of the ocean floor.

He continued climbing out of the ship until he was standing on one of the wings. Then he leaped off and landed on the ground with a muffled thump, momentarily losing his balance, then regaining it with a strange, mechanical snapping motion. His arms and legs were a mass of tubes and canisters, his chest crisscrossed with dozens of creepy wires and pieces of armor. He stood there glaring at us for a minute or two, the hissing sound of his uniform piercing the air every few seconds.

“How many warnings will it take,” his husky voice growled, “before you do as you are told?”