Into the Wild(42)

Beyond that, she knew little else. After she’d tried and failed to call Ursa, Gothel had left for the motel. She had told Zel to stay home with Julie. Most likely, there wasn’t a problem, she’d said. But when she didn’t report back, Zel followed her—and arrived too late. The Wild had already begun to grow. Zel knocked on every door and evacuated all the guests she could find; then she went into the motel office, where she found the three bears asleep over the drugged porridge. Gothel was nowhere to be seen. Zel went out the back door into the overnight-ancient forest, intending to go straight to the well and undo the damage. But the Wild, of course, had other plans, and Gothel dragged her off to a tower. Just like old times.

At first, the “tower” was nothing more than the motel office, its doors and windows sealed with vines. But the Wild grew fast, and soon she was taken to the top floor of the old town hall, then to the steeple of the Unitarian Church, then to the clock tower of the Worcester court-house. Finally, the Wild moved her here, to a place that seemed custom-made for her, the Shakespeare in the Park tower. Built to resemble a miniature feudal castle, it already had a turret, arrow slots, and a portcullis when the Wild came. All the Wild had to do was add another three levels and seal the doors into solid stone, and the park monument made a perfect Rapunzel’s tower. It would remain usable for centuries with minimal additional effort from the Wild. The Wild would barely have to change anything for Zel to reenact her story. How convenient. How expedient. How lucky.

Zel heard a pop from outside. What was that? Was it the witch already? Please, not yet. She wasn’t ready yet. She crossed the room in three steps. “Is anyone there?” She looked out the window.

“Mom?” she heard.

No, it couldn’t be. Zel leaned out the window so far that her feet lifted off the floor. “Julie?”

Julie came running around the corner of the tower with Boots behind her. He was in full Puss-in-Boots regalia, and he had a wand poking out of one boot. She was in ordinary jeans and a sweater, plus those ridiculous sandals. “Mom!” she shouted.

“Julie!” She could have wept. Her daughter, here, in the flesh . . . in the Wild. “What are you doing here? You should be miles and miles from the woods! Why didn’t you run?”

“I came to rescue you!” Julie said.

Oh, no.

On his hind legs, Boots waved up at her. “Hello, Rapunzel!”

Julie called, “Let down your hair, Mom!”

“Oh, Julie,” Zel said. “I cut my hair five centuries ago.”

She watched her daughter’s smile fall. It felt like a fist in her heart. “But the witch said the ogre . . . and then the magician . . . I crossed the endless ocean! I did the impossible tasks! I won the ring!” Julie held up her hand, but her finger was bare. With its use, the ring had disintegrated. “It’s gone!”

Zel closed her eyes. “Oh, pumpkin, you’ve been tricked. You’ve been used. The Wild used you for its stories.” Just like old times. Only in the old days, it hadn’t been her daughter that it had in its grip.

All the pain, all the loss—the whole escape had been to save Julie. Zel had done it all so her child wouldn’t grow up a slave to the stories, so she could be her own person. She had even asked Gothel to use her magic to delay Julie’s birth until she was sure they were free. We were free, she thought. It wasn’t fair.

Julie should have run. What had she been thinking, playing hero? She was just a little girl. Zel’s little girl.

Zel opened her eyes and looked out again, afraid she was gone. Hands clenched, Julie was staring at the forest. Zel felt déjà vu as she watched the transformation come over her daughter. Julie’s back straightened and her chin lifted. She looked up at her mother with a fierce expression on her face, an expression that Zel had never seen her wear. For an instant, Julie reminded her of herself. Was that how she’d looked when she’d fought against the Wild? “How do I stop it?” Julie said.

“You don’t,” Zel said firmly. “You get out of here. Run as far away as you can.”

Just as firmly, Julie said, “I’m not leaving you.”

“It’s too dangerous.” Believe me, she thought. I know what I’m talking about. She’d seen the horrors: red-hot iron shoes, barrels full of nails. Once, she’d seen a woman thrown into a cauldron of vipers. “I want you to leave these woods.”

“How? It’s not going to let me waltz out.”

Julie was right. For a long moment, Zel stared out of the tower at the vast expanse of the Wild Wood. She’d been in the woods for hundreds of years before she was able to face the Wild. Julie was only twelve. But twelve or not, the Wild would make her a character, and there was only one character she could be if she wanted to escape. “You’ll have to hurry,” Zel said. “The Wild is in chaos now because it’s growing. But the same chaos that makes it possible to switch from story to story also makes it possible for the Wild to present you with trap after trap. The longer you take, the more chances the Wild will have to surround you with stories—eventually, it will trick you into a story ending, and you’ll forget who you are. That’s how we lost the Great Battle. You will have to move quickly, and you can’t stop. And above all else, you must avoid story endings.”