Norton, Andre - Anthology (3 page)

 
          
 
"Do you really believe that?" Steve
asked, terrified, but remembering his father's scorn.

 
          
 
"Before my uncle disappeared, he told us
he saw the
Yamadan's
footprints, and eyes like
fire." A shiver ran through the old man. "Then he disappeared."

 
          
 
Nobara
looked up.
His face was suddenly closed. "I will tell you no more. The sheriff-man
says I should not talk. But I know the
Yamadan
lives
in the woods. I know. I know."

 
          
 
Though Steve pleaded,
Nobara
refused to say any more. So he returned to the field and dragged his bags of
corn to the wagon Dad had left nearby.

 
          
 
After a quick lunch, Steve was so busy helping
Dad that he had little time to think about legendary creatures. Maybe it was
the influence of his very practical, hardworking father, but as the day wore
on, Steve began to feel that both the footprints and the lights must have
logical explanations, even though he might not know what they were.

 
          
 
That afternoon, after the work was finished,
he and Adele rode the two horses out to the pasture to round up the cows.
"Let's take a quick ride along the edge of the woods," Adele
suggested with a mischievous grin.

 
          
 
"Race you," Steve challenged, and
off they went, heading toward the beautiful, flower-decked woods. In and out
among the scattered trees and shrubs they dashed, yelling and cheering their
horses on.

 
          
 
Suddenly Steve's horse skidded to an abrupt
stop, almost unseating him. Then it reared on its hind legs, pawing the air and
screeching in terror. It reared and danced, backing away as though afraid to
pass an invisible barrier. When Steve tried to heel it forward, it suddenly
bucked, and Steve went sailing over its head.

 
          
 
"Steve!"
came
Adele's wail. That was the last he heard as his body seemed to crash through a
solid wall.

 
          
 
When Steve opened his eyes, he stared in
bewilderment, wondering where he was. Catching a whiff of the rotten garbage
smell, he sat up. The surrounding gloomy forest was almost choked with
underbrush and
junglelike
growth. Long whiskers of
gray-green moss hung like shrouds from the trees.

 
          
 
Turning to find the source of the smell, Steve
stifled a scream. Out of the shadows came a big, hairy creature with
goatlike
horns projecting out of a melon-shaped head.
Beneath eyes like live coals were a flat nose and a big slit of a mouth.

 
          
 
"The
Yamadan
!"
Steve leaped to his feet and turned
to run, but something knocked him down. He glanced back but the
Yamadan
had not moved. Once more Steve tried to run, but
again he toppled backward, feeling as though he had slammed headlong into a
brick wall.

 
          
 
A wall—a barrier—something the horse wouldn't
cross but that he had crashed through. Instead of panic, his father's sensible
calmness settled over him. He tried to figure out what had happened. Had he
somehow been thrown through an unseen barrier? Where was this jungle? Only one
explanation—not one Dad would arrive at—came to mind. Somehow he had crossed a
time barrier. He had no idea what time period he was in, but it certainly
contained a strange creature.

 
          
 
More curious than afraid, Steve glanced back
at the
Yamadan
. It was ugly with its big round head,
its blazing eyes, its clawed hands, and its immense feet, but it didn't seem
vicious—at least not at the moment of relief. It was normal. "Well, what
happens now?" he said.

 
          
 
The
Yamadan
responded with a wheeze. The creature turned and slowly walked away, looking
back, beckoning Steve. Curious, Steve followed, scrambling, tumbling, and
climbing over the tangled logs and underbrush. Because he couldn't travel fast,
they didn't go far, and to Steve the heat and humidity were oppressive.

 
          
 
He heard a commotion, and as if he were up on
a mountain, he watched Dad, Mom, and Adele ride up to the edge of the woods,
hunting for him. Adele was almost hysterical, insisting that Steve had fallen
unconscious at this very spot.

 
          
 
"But now he's gone," she cried.

 
          
 
"Maybe he's gotten up and gone
home," Mom said, and she rode back to see. In a short while she returned,
sobbing. "No—he's not there."

 
          
 
"Well, he's got to be somewhere,'' Dad
said
. "
People don't evaporate." Steve called
out, but even as he did, he knew they would not hear him. Reluctantly they rode
away.

 
          
 
When the forest began to get dark, Steve
gathered some branches and made himself a bed. Then he lay down, aware of those
glowing eyes watching him. He was hungry, but he hadn't found any food. The
Yamadan
, it seemed, ate only vegetation. But Steve didn't
think he was hungry enough to eat leaves.

 
          
 
Trying to fall asleep was difficult. Steve
thought of his family. Poor Mom had been terribly upset, and Adele blamed
herself for suggesting the race. But Irwin—Irwin was the one who worried Steve
most. The boy would be alone in his bedroom tonight, and he didn't like to be
alone. Maybe Dad would sleep in the upper bunk, Steve thought, though Adele
would be better. Irwin felt safer around Adele. He loved Dad, but his father
sometimes scared him. Not that Dad ever yelled at Irwin. He never even raised
his voice. But he yelled at the rest of them and that bothered the timid little
boy.

 
          
 
When daylight crept weakly through the dense
overhead growth, Steve got up, ravenously hungry. In a small clearing he saw a
huckleberry bush loaded with plump, dark berries. Reaching out to pick them, he
paused with his hand in midair.

 
          
 
"Oh no!" he squawked, his blood
seeming to freeze. His arm was hairy! He tore open his shirt, horrified to see
long brown hair covering him. Savagely he grabbed at it, feeling pain as he
pulled the hair. But it did no good. Shivers shook his body, and he clutched
the shirt front over his hairy chest, hoping that by hiding it, it would go
away. He moaned in anguish.

 
          
 
But hunger was stronger than dismay, and Steve

           
 
stuffed
the berries
into his mouth until there wasn't a single one left. Only then did he look for
the
Yamadan
who was squatting by a small swampy pool
drinking the brackish water.

 
          
 
All day Steve followed the hairy monster.
Twice he saw Dad and some troopers off at a distance, searching the woods. But
he was too far away to hear their words. And the next morning when he tasted
some leaves, he had to admit that they didn't taste bad at all. To his horror,
though, his hands were becoming clawed.

 
          
 
"No, I don't want to be a
Yamadan
!" he screeched at the monster. "I want to
be a boy. I want to go home. Dad needs me to help out."

 
          
 
But the
Yamadan
merely wheezed and plodded around. And Steve, though he couldn't wheeze back,
was beginning to understand.

 
          
 
"I don't want to understand you," he
cried out, but it was useless. He was afraid that by the time he could
communicate to the
Yamadan
that he wanted to go home,
it would be too late. By then he would be a
Yamadan
,
and most likely he would be satisfied with his fate. He probably wouldn't even
remember that he had ever been a boy—or had even known Dad, Mom, Adele, or
Emmy. Would he even forget Irwin?

 
          
 
Steve wondered how
Nobara's
uncle had made himself understood. "He talked to animals,"
Nobara
had said. So Steve talked and talked. But it did no
good. By nightfall he was growing horns, and his head was getting big and
round.

 
          
 
The next morning Steve ate leaves and enjoyed
them. He even played games with the
Yamadan
, and he
enjoyed that, too. Scrambling over the undergrowth was not so difficult now,
and he didn't notice the steamy air.

 
          
 
"I don't want to be changed," he
pleaded. But the
Yamadan
only wheezed noisily, and
Steve understood it to mean, "We're going to be good friends."

 
          
 
Just then Steve heard a voice call his name.
He raced to a spot where he could see people moving below. He saw Dad with
Irwin, Adele, Mom, Emmy, and several of the sheriff's men. But it was Irwin he
watched. It was Irwin calling him. In anguish he realized he could no longer
understand the words his brother was saying, but
the boy's 36
voice
was plaintive.

           
 
Steve turned to the
Yamadan
,
his heart aching with longing to comfort his little brother. "You've got
to let me go," he pleaded. "Irwin needs me—more than you do. Don't
you understand? I'm needed at home." He felt his own eyes burning . . .
glowing. . . .

 
          
 
The
Yamadan
seemed
to be thinking back to the companion he had just lost and how much they had
needed each other. "You can go back," his wheezing seemed to say.
"I'll find someone else. Here, I'll take you down to them."

 
          
 
Then the
Yamadan
picked him up, and even as they traveled, Steve realized that his own body was
slowly changing back to normal. He tried not to breathe as he was clutched
close to the stinking body, but the stench invaded his nostrils anyway.
Suddenly the
Yamadan
lifted him high and tossed him
forcibly away. Crashing into something, Steve blacked out.

 
          
 
When he came to, he was in a sunny glade. He
staggered to his feet, aware of voices in the distance, and he began to run
toward them through the sun-dappled woods. In a short while he saw his family.

 
          
 
"Dad—Mom!" he yelled as they rushed
to him.

 
          
 
"Are you all right?" Adele demanded.

 
          
 
"You poor dear, you must be
starved." Mom was tearful and hugged him close.

 
          
 
"You must've had a concussion," Dad
suggested. Everyone talked at once, firing questions at him. Irwin wound his
arms around Steve's waist and stared up at him rapturously. "You'll come
home now,
Stevie
?" he begged.