Byng, Georgia - Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

“I’m one hundred percent serious. These are your friends.”

At these words Molly found herself giggling. The idea of Malcolm having a party and all the little maggots being invited because they were his friends had occurred to her.

“Sorry,” she said, knowing that it wasn’t very tactful to laugh. But still she kept laughing.

“Don’t worry,” said Malcolm. “You’re just a bit hysterical. It’s because this is so odd. We’re in the middle of the jungle and my leg looks like something out of a sci-fi film and Bas here, who is like a wild man of the woods, is about to put wriggling maggots onto me. It is quite funny, I suppose, in a macabre kind of a way.” He waved a finger at the maggots. “Be good now, maggots!” he said, breathing out heavily.

“Whoa!” whispered Molly as Bas began to prod the wriggling maggots into Malcolm’s wound. At once, like things that had been starved, the maggots began tugging at the rotten flesh there. “Does it hurt?”

“Not at all,” Malcolm replied. “Just got to get over my squeamishness. It’s the idea of it that’s freaky.”

They all sat marveling at the miracle maggots until Malcolm croaked, “I’m a bit hungry. Don’t suppose you’ve got any food?”

As they had breakfast, they decided that while Malcolm rested, Molly and Bas would go to the lookout tower and see if they could spot Micky and Lily. Bas brought Malcolm a pair of his clean underpants, shorts, and a flower-patterned shirt. They left food by his side and water to drink and blankets to keep him warm if he got the shivers, as well as a book about cloud forest wildlife.

“I’ll probably just sleep.” Malcolm yawned. “By the way, have you got a radio?”

“A broken one. If you get a moment, you could see if you can fix it.”

“Sure thing.” But before Bas could explain where it was, Malcolm had shut his eyes and gone to sleep.

Molly whistled for Petula.

“She’s off with Canis,” Bas said. “Come on, Molly, let’s go. Two down, two to go. We need to find your brother and Lily.”

Across the cloud forest, a few miles away, Micky and Lily were waking up. Their bed had been the hard ground of a shallow cave. They were bundled warmly under their green synthetic-silk parachutes. Unlike Molly, they had avoided the eye of the storm. Lily had lost her grip on Micky and Molly in the initial part of the fall, but then, once her parachute had opened, Micky had been swinging under his parachute just ahead. Seeing her in the moonlight, he’d steered close by and shouted instructions to her as they parachuted down.

Unlike Malcolm and Molly, they’d had a good landing. Their parachutes tangled in the trees, but miraculously, they were deposited in a clearing. Micky detangled the parachutes, knowing that they would be useful. Lily had been most unhelpful. Shocked by the fall, she simply sat shivering under a tree. So it was Micky who’d braved the branches and rescued the bundles of material. While Lily sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, he hunted for shelter and found a cave. He’d laid the parachutes out like sleeping bags. Then they’d sat close together and stared at the dark night, listening to the creatures of the jungle. It was dawn before they fell asleep, and an afternoon sun was high in the sky when they woke.

For the rest of the day, the hot sun shone down on the children’s clothes that Micky had put on rocks to dry. Lily sat in her underwear, huddled and scared, while Micky focused his mind. He knew that they might not meet another human for weeks and that it was essential that he find a way for them to stay alive in the forest.

He had read many adventure stories. In fact, he had read both fictional and factual accounts of survival stories, set on mountains and out at sea, in deserts and in the jungle. Even though it was scary to be in such strange terrain, with no knowledge of what plants around them were poisonous or whether there were dangerous insects or snakes about, he found the whole business quite exciting.

Micky knew that he and Lily might have to eat grubs and insects, and there was fruit on the trees. That afternoon he spent a lot of time foraging and digging.

“Why don’t we just walk somewhere and get help ?” Lily called out from her nestlike place under a tree.

“Walk where?” Micky replied. “We don’t know how big this forest is or if we will find help.” He pulled an orange tuber out of the ground and, brushing the soil off it, put it on a pile of other roots.

“I am not eating that rubbish.” Lily crossed her arms belligerently.

“You might have to,” Micky retorted. “And Lily, you should try to drink as much as you can. It’s in the leaves, look, there’s tons of it everywhere. You may be getting altitude sickness. You see, we’re very high up.” He tapped the altimeter. “We are at about three thousand feet, and that can make some people feel funny.”

“I don’t feel funny. But you look funny.”

“Ha, ha. Why don’t you come and help me dig for potatoes?”

“No way. I’ll get dirty,” she said, taking her clothes from the rocks. “Dry clean only.”

Micky laughed. “Dry clean only? Are they allowed to go through the washing machine of a whirlwind storm? Come on, Lily, get a grip. Come and help.”

But Lily shook her head and went to sit back under her tree.

That night, Micky lit a fire. He cooked the roots, and though they were black with char, Lily, now starving hungry, helped him gobble them up. The smoke from the campfire kept the insects at bay. And as a modicum of comfort crept back into their lives, both Micky and Lily felt a little bit better.

“Well done for remembering the matches,” Lily said, nodding toward the fire. She reached into her parka pocket and passed Micky something small and silvery. “Chocolate?” she offered.

“You’re joking.”

“No, always carry it. Never know when you might need it.” Micky took the chocolate gratefully, and they both unwrapped the sweets. “Mmm. Tastes a million times better here, doesn’t it?” said Lily.

“Yup,” Micky said. “Thanks.”

“No, it’s me who should say thanks,” said Lily. “I’m really sorry. I’ll try not to be so useless tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry,” said Micky. “It was the shock of the jump. Crazy, wasn’t it?”

“Really frightening.” Lily shivered. “I think we ought to start looking for the others tomorrow.”

“Agreed,” Micky replied, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Do you think they’re still alive?” Lily asked. Micky shrugged. Inside he had a strange feeling that Molly and Petula were all right, since they seemed to have a habit of falling on their feet. “If we use our compasses and follow the coordinates to the stones, I’m sure we’ll find them. Now let’s get some sleep. Yam for breakfast?”

Lily groaned. “Again?” She closed her eyes. “Chocolate croissant!” she murmured dreamily.

“Sausage roll,” Micky replied.

“Peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Lily suggested.

“Chocolate cupcakes.”

“Grilled cheese sandwich…”

Miss Speal sat on a little wooden stool in some bushes high above the camp. She liked this place because it was very private, and yet it had a good view of everything that was happening in the clearing below. She pulled out her blue stone and then hugged it to her chest. “Oh, my dear stone. What shall I do without you?” She began to weep. “I shall miss you.” Then she sat up. She’d heard a noise and voices.

“I vill put a nice hidden trap here,” Miss Oakkton was saying. “Then it’s not too far to walk to check it.”

“And a pit would be good here,” Miss Teriyaki said, slapping away an insect.