Into the Wild(23)

I hate this, she thought. I really hate this.

She climbed over another root and spotted, up ahead, what looked like a string of Christmas lights between the ferns. Maybe it was a house. If it was a house, then a street had to be nearby! She picked up her pace.

Drawing closer, she saw the lights weren’t decorations; they were flowers—beautiful, unnaturally bright flowers that glowed with their own brilliance. She heard humming—someone was there. Julie froze, listening. It was a woman’s voice, and the tune was a cross between “Twinkle, Twinkle” and “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” Julie wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and crept forward. In between the trees, she saw a girl in a red cape and hood picking flowers. Little Red? How could it be? Ms. Hood was in France.

The girl turned her head as she picked a brilliant red daisy, and Julie’s eyes widened. Oh, wow. It wasn’t the Little Red she knew. It was someone else, someone older. Under the red cape, a forty-year-old woman wore a business suit. Staring, Julie forgot to hide.

“Look at my beautiful flowers,” the false Little Red said, smiling brightly. “I’m picking them for Grandma.” Julie opened her mouth, but no words came out. The woman hopped over a root and pounced on a shimmering purple flower. “Grandma loves flowers,” she said.

This was what Julie’s grandmother had told her about, the danger of the Wild. Somehow, this businesswoman had become a new Little Red. Julie managed to get her voice to work: “I’m, ah, looking for the path.”

“I’ve strayed from the path,” New Little Red said. “I’m picking flowers.” She spun the bouquet in her hands. It was almost hypnotic, a sort of kaleidoscope. Julie tore her eyes from it. All her instincts told her to run away—far, far away. “Do you know where the path is?” Julie asked.

“It’s over there,” New Little Red said, gesturing nonchalantly over her shoulder. “Mother said not to leave it.”

Yes! Julie peered through the trees, but she didn’t see anything. Maybe it was on the other side of the trees. Julie began to wade through bushes.

Behind her, the businesswoman giggled over a patch of yellow flowers that glowed like mini-suns. It was a horribly vacant sound. Julie hesitated. She couldn’t just leave her like this. Something was obviously wrong with her, and she could be walking right into the jaws of danger. Literally. “You didn’t happen to meet a wolf, did you?” Julie asked.

“He was a very nice wolf,” New Little Red said.

She had guessed right: this woman had set off a fairy-tale event, just like Grandma said would happen. She was caught in one of the Wild’s puppet plays. But that didn’t explain the weird blankness. Shouldn’t she at least know who she was, even if she couldn’t help what she did? “You shouldn’t be picking flowers. The wolf is on his way to your grandmother’s house.”

“Do you think Grandma would like the blue ones?” New Little Red said.

Julie tried again. “You’re not Little Red Riding Hood. You have to snap out of it. You’re in a fairy tale. A wolf is going to eat you.”

“Grandma will like these flowers,” the woman said. She smiled vapidly at Julie.

Goose bumps ran up and down Julie’s arms. It was okay if she ran, Julie rationalized. The woman was a grown-up. She could take care of herself. But the wolf . . . “Look, I can tell you what will happen: the wolf will be in your grandmother’s clothes. You’ll do the whole ‘Grandma, how big your eyes are’ thing, and you’ll get to ‘Grandma, how big your teeth are’ and he’ll eat you,” Julie said. “You can’t go to your grandmother’s house.”

New Little Red’s eyes narrowed. “I am going to Grandma’s house.”

What was Julie supposed to do? She couldn’t force the woman not to go. Maybe she could try to take the flowers away. Julie reached for the stems.

“No! Grandma’s flowers!” New Little Red swatted Julie with the petals. Julie jumped backward, and New Little Red advanced on her. “Bad girl! Bad girl!” The forty-year-old woman, face terrible in anger, shook the flowers at Julie.

“But . . .” Julie said.

The woman’s eyes widened. “You have my picnic basket!” she shrieked. She pointed at Julie’s backpack. “My basket for Grandma!”

Before Julie could react, New Little Red launched at her and seized the backpack. She ripped it off Julie. Julie clung to the shoulder straps. “No! It’s mine! I need it! Please!” Julie begged.