Into the Wild(13)

She felt dizzy. It was like there wasn’t enough oxygen. Don’t panic, she told herself. The fairy-tale characters stopped it before, back when the Middle Ages ended. She was sure they’d defeat it again.

Mom must have gone to watch it be defeated. She probably planned to fit it in between appointments—pop out, watch the Wild shrink; pop in, cut some bangs. That was why she hadn’t bothered turning the radio off.

Julie tried to make herself believe it.

“Please, child, take me off the wall before it comes,” the mirror said.

Grandma would do something witchy to defeat it. She wouldn’t let the Wild recapture the fairy-tale characters or force ordinary people into its stories. Julie just had an overactive imagination.

She remembered last night when Grandma called the motel and Mom asked what was wrong. That must have been when she found out . . . But that was before Julie had voiced that wish. She’d been right—the Wild’s escape wasn’t her fault. The timing made that impossible. So why didn’t that make her feel better?

Wait—if they knew about the Wild last night, then why was it still here today?

“Smash me on the floor if you have to,” the mirror said, “but don’t leave me here. I will not lose myself again. I cannot.”

Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong, and the mirror knew it.

Julie’s feet were moving under her, faster and faster. She ran out of the salon, down the steps, and to her bike. Getting on, she started pedaling.

Grandma will stop it, she told herself. It’ll be okay. It had to be okay.

She heard sirens. Outside Shattuck’s Pharmacy, she saw the ABC Channel 5 News van, and her heart jumped into her throat. She tried to calm herself: she’d seen this on the news, so of course there were news vans. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean the Wild was still growing. Please, don’t be growing.

In the distance, she heard the thrum of a helicopter. She passed more news vans and then emergency vehicles: police cars, ambulances, fire engines. Red siren lights splashed across the buildings. It’s okay, she repeated, Grandma will fix it; it’s all okay.

She came around the corner of the library, and she saw the crowd: a teeming swarm of reporters, scientists, and police. On TV, the crowd hadn’t looked so large. Or so upset. Why were there so many people? What did it mean that there were so many people? Where was Mom? Where was Grandma?

Grandma should be vanquishing the Wild—it should be writhing and melting into a puddle of vines. Or whatever it did. Standing on her toes on the pedals, Julie looked for the Wild.

Above the street and beyond the crowd, she saw dark summer green where there should have been bare autumn branches. It was a smear of dark green. A big smear. A very, very big smear. She realized she was gripping the handlebars of her bike so hard that it hurt. This had been under her bed? It wasn’t possible. It was so . . . big.

How could Grandma, or anyone, stop it?

Julie ditched her bike at the library and plunged into the crowd. “Mom? Mom!” Instantly, she lost sight of the forest as the crowd swarmed around her. Armpit level with the adults, she wormed between jackets and coats. “’Scuze me. Excuse me!” People surged around her, and she was swept forward.

Hundreds of camera shutters clicked. Police yelled into megaphones: “Stand away from the tape. Behind the yellow tape. Stand away from the tape.” A film crew muscled past her. Grabbing the back of a flannel shirt, she followed in their wake.

Someone pushed into her, and she lost her grip. She fell into the yellow police tape. She lifted her eyes, and for the first time, the Wild was directly in front of her. Only three feet of pavement separated her and the trees.

Gnarled limbs stretched like frozen fingers. Trunks curved into mouthlike holes. Julie froze, a deer in headlights. It’ll eat me, she thought. If it catches me, it’ll eat me.

She saw remnants of the Shell station laced in leaves. Thick, ancient-looking oaks enveloped the structure. Only the UNLEADED price sign and bits of roof were visible now. It looked much, much worse in person than it had on TV. She stared at the sign and thought of the way the Wild had consumed her sneaker. What if her mom were in there, wrapped in trees? Don’t think that! Her mom wasn’t in there. She was safe. She was fine. Any second, Julie would see her in the crowd, and . . .

A loud whir grew behind her.

She turned and saw a military helicopter flying low over Main Street. We have been told that a SWAT team has been ordered on the scene, she remembered. Julie clapped her hands over her ears as the copter rumbled and whined. Her eyes (and those of everyone in the crowd) followed the dark gray helicopter as it flew over their heads and over the top of the encroaching forest.