The Island of Dr. Libris, Page 4

  “Well,” Billy explained, “Poseidon shoved me across the lake with his spear, which, by the way, is an awesome effect. Is there a chain or something under the water like on a log flume ride?”

  “This is most confusing.” Hercules narrowed his eyes. “What is your name, skinny mortal?”

  “Billy.”

  “Billy? What manner of name is this?”

  “I’m like the goats that are gruff.”

  “What? More riddles?”

  “Sorry. I was making a joke. You know—The Three Billy Goats Gruff?”

  “By Zeus, I have never met even one of these goats you speak of.”

  “That’s because they don’t really exist. But then neither do you.”

  “What? I am Hercules! King Eurystheus tells me what labor I must do, and I go do it. He wants me to shovel horse manure for a year, I shovel it.”

  “Your king sounds like a great guy.…”

  “But I know not how to retrieve three golden apples from this garden of Hesperides.”

  Billy couldn’t believe he was actually having this conversation.

  But he was.

  “Okay, first off,” he said, “you’re in the wrong place. This is the island of Dr. Libris, not the garden of Hesper-whatever.”

  Hercules wasn’t listening. “The king wants the golden apples,” he continued. “Antaeus wants to stop me. I throw the brute down, he gets back up. I tackle him to the ground, he grows stronger. How might I defeat one such as this?”

  “I don’t know. Bullies pick on me all the time, but I’ve never, you know, ‘defeated’ one.”

  Just then, the earth quaked. Trees quivered. Startled birds took flight.

  And a fifteen-foot-tall monster made out of rock stomped out of the forest and heaved Hercules off the ground in a bone-crushing bear hug.

  Terrified, Billy grabbed the locked gate with both hands.

  He was glad he was on the side without any monsters.

  Antaeus had a blocky head, lumpy muscles, knobby knees, and a pleated leather chariot skirt. He looked like a rockier, browner version of the Incredible Hulk.

  And it wasn’t an actor on stilts or a puppet. No way.

  This was real.

  “I will smite you!” Antaeus bellowed as he squeezed Hercules tightly.

  “Oh, the beast does grip me most mightily,” gasped Hercules. “What can I do to defeat him, Billy of the goats that are gruff? Tell me! Quickly!”

  Billy backed away from the gate. “I don’t know!”

  “Is this, then, how Hercules must meet his end? Crushed like the many I myself have crushed?”

  “No, I don’t think so. You still have a ton more adventures left in the book.”

  The rock dude squeezed Hercules tighter.

  Billy’s legs felt like wet noodles.

  Dirt and moss were caked in the creases of Antaeus’s gnarled knees. He had the earthy, stinky smell of a monkey cage.

  Billy didn’t think Dr. Libris’s island was a secret theme park staffed by actors anymore.

  He did, however, wonder if this was all some kind of major hallucination.

  Maybe his mother was right.

  Maybe he ate too many peanut butter crackers.

  Maybe all those ingredients he’d seen on the side of the packages—junk like thiamine mononitrate and polysorbic phosphitate or whatever they put in them to make them bright orange—had totally fried his brain.

  “Help me!” gasped Hercules, firmly locked in the rock man’s tightening grip. “Please!”

  CRUNCH!

  Yow. That sounded like a bone snapping.

  For half a second, Billy thought about running back down the path, jumping into his boat, and rowing home.

  Maybe he could head over to Nick Farkas’s house, kiss up to the head bully, and spend the rest of his summer playing Space Lizard’s Revenge.

  But Billy knew that if he ran back to the cabin, he’d never be able to read another one of Dr. Libris’s books without wondering why or how they sprang to life. Plus, hallucination or not, Hercules needed help.

  That was when Billy remembered he still had the bookcase key in his pocket.

  Would it work on the island gates?

  There was only one way to find out.

  But what if the second he unlocked the gates, the block-headed monster grabbed him, too?

  Hercules yelped like a dog does when you accidentally step on its tail.

  Billy sucked in as much air as his lungs could hold.

  “Hercules needs my help.”

  (Okay, that was something Billy never, ever thought he’d hear himself say.)

  He slid the bookcase key into the gate lock.

  The gates sprang open.

  And Billy stepped into the clearing on the other side.

  “Stop!” Billy shouted at Antaeus. “That’s Hercules! Zeus is his father. You could wind up in big, big trouble. We’re talking lightning bolts, buddy!”

  Suddenly, a muddy sinkhole gurgled open in front of Billy’s feet.

  “Foolish mortal!” laughed the muck.

  It had heaved itself up into two humps around the hole, like lips around a mouth.

  Yes, now the dirt was talking to Billy, too. And it sounded like a lady.

  “Too many peanut butter crackers,” said Billy. “Too many peanut butter crackers …”

  “My son Antaeus is not afraid of Zeus, god of the skies. For Poseidon, god of the seas, is his father.”

  “And, um, who exactly are you?” Billy asked the quivering sinkhole.

  “I am Gaia! Mother Earth! Antaeus is my son.”

  Billy tried to sort it out in his head.

  “No wonder he looks like a big walking hunk of dirt. He gets that from you.…”

  “Indeed. And none shall defeat my son so long as he remains in my loving embrace.”

  “Is that why every time he hits the ground, he bounces back bigger and stronger? Is it because his mother, Mother Earth—the ground—gives him more power?”

  “Hmmmm. You are wise for one so scrawny. You have discovered our family secret.”

  “Well,” said Billy timidly, “I like to figure stuff out.”

  “Too bad. After my son crushes Hercules, he must crush you!”

  With that, Mother Earth slammed her sludge mouth shut and vanished, leaving behind nothing but a soggy sinkhole to mark the spot where she’d appeared.

  Billy’s mind was racing. He had an idea.

  He jammed two fingers into his mouth and whistled the way his dad had taught him to hail a taxi.

  The piercing screech made Antaeus wince.

  “What annoying bird makes such a squawk?” the rock man boomed, easing his grip on Hercules.

  “Me,” said Billy. “I, uh, just finished chatting with your, uh, mom. She wants you to give her Hercules as a Mother’s Day gift.”

  “Huh?”

  “Mother’s Day! Sure, you’re a little late. You really should’ve given her something back in May, but, hey, you know what they say—better late than never. So just, uh, put Hercules down, and Mommy will make sure you always stay big and strong.”

  Antaeus did what Billy told him to.

  “Quick!” Billy shouted at Hercules. “Pick him up, carry him to the shore, and toss him into the lake! But don’t ever let his feet touch the ground. Touching ‘Mother Earth’ makes him stronger!”

  Hercules stared at Billy.

  “Do it!” Billy shouted.

  Finally, Hercules grabbed Antaeus by the ankle, raised him off the ground, and carried him away through the forest.

  “No!” Billy heard Antaeus blubber. “Put me down! Put me down!”

  “As you wish!”

  There was a tremendous splash.

  And then everything was quiet.

  Until Billy heard a rustling in the forest behind him.

  Great. Now what?

  “Halloa, good fellow!” cried a gallant voice. “Art thou yet another bounty hunter sent forth by the foul Sheriff of
Nottingham?”

  Billy spun around and saw a tall, nimble man dressed all in green. A woman dressed all in brown stepped out of the shadows behind him.

  She was swinging a sword.

  “If so,” she said, “prepare to diest where thou do stand.”

  Robin Hood and Maid Marian sprang into the clearing.

  Billy couldn’t believe it. He was face to face with his mother’s favorite fictional characters.

  “What be thy name?” demanded Robin Hood, raising his bow and aiming it at Billy’s chest.

  “Um, Billy. You know—like the goats.”

  “Billy?”

  “It’s short for William.”

  “Ah-ah!” said Maid Marian, lowering her broadsword. “Thou, then, art Sir William of Goat?”

  “Okay,” said Billy, nodding his head, hoping Maid Marian wouldn’t lop it off. “Sure. Works for me.”

  “Merrily, good sir,” said Marian. “What brings thee to this, the secret hiding place of the most renowned outlaw in all of England?”

  Billy thought for a second. “My mother sent me?”

  “Thy mother?” said Robin Hood skeptically.

  “You two are her favorites. She loves you guys!”

  Robin Hood smiled. So did Maid Marian.

  Then Robin took off his feathered cap, twirled it in front of his chest, and dipped into a bow.

  “Sir William,” said Robin, “for thy mother’s sake, thou art most welcome.”

  “Thanks.” Billy checked out the forest behind the two new characters. “So, where’s that bad guy? The bounty hunter?”

  “Dispatched,” said Maid Marian cheerfully.

  “Does that mean he’s, you know, dead?”

  “Ah-ha-ha-ha!” Robin Hood threw back his head and laughed heartily. “No, it means Marian scared him off with her sword.”

  “And I wouldst do it again,” said Marian. “For the scoundrel was sent here by that vile villain the Sheriff of Nottingham.”

  “Aye,” said Robin, squinting at the shadowy trees. “Methinks there shalt be others eager to earn the price the sheriff hath placed upon my head.”

  “Well, maybe, I don’t know, you two should go hide in Sherwood Forest or something.”

  “Forsooth, I like thy notion. Come. Sherwood is over yonder.”

  Robin pointed.

  Billy turned around.

  And Hercules’s field of trampled weeds had morphed into a shady forest complete with dancing leaves, flickering sunlight, and a babbling brook. The air smelled like May and flowers. Birds chirped. A rustic log bridge spanned the rippling stream.

  “Okay,” said Billy. “How’d that happen?”

  “Quite quickly,” said Marian. “Wouldst thou not agree?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  Robin marched toward the narrow bridge. Marian and Billy followed him.

  “The Sheriff of Nottingham will not dare to follow us hither,” said Marian. “For he fears the harm that might befall him deep in the shadows of Sherwood.”

  “So we’re safe?” asked Billy.

  “Aye, marry,” said Robin.

  “Does that mean ‘yes’?”

  “Verily. Ah-ha-ha-ha!”

  Suddenly, Hercules tromped out of the forest, dragging his club. He stopped at the far side of the log bridge to straighten his lion-fur cape.

  “What ho!” cried Robin Hood. “Who be this lad of such might and girth?”

  “He be Hercules,” said Billy. “He just defeated a monster made out of rocks and mud.”

  Robin Hood looked impressed. “Did he indeed?”

  “Well done, good sir,” said Marian.

  “Billy of the goats that are gruff did help me complete my quest!” Hercules shouted back. “Usually, I do not like children. They make me crazy. But Billy is different. He is bold and courageous.”

  “No, I’m not,” said Billy. “I’m just a kid who—”

  Robin snatched up a wooden staff he found on the ground near his end of the bridge.

  “Robin?” said Marian. “Honestly. Must thou challenge each and every man thou meet upon the road to goodly combat?”

  “Aye, marry.” He called out to Hercules: “Tell me, my fine fellow—do you seek adventure this day?”

  “No. I seek only to complete my twelfth—or thirteenth—labor for my king. I have lost count and am not very good with numbers.”

  “Well, then, what art thou good at, pray tell?” prodded Robin.

  “Slaying monsters. Capturing bulls. Feats of super-human strength.”

  Robin Hood placed one foot on the bridge.

  “Then stand aside and let the better man pass.”

  “No! You stand aside!”

  Great, thought Billy. Now these two guys are going to fight. What kind of goofy island is this?

  Hercules and Robin Hood stormed across the log bridge and met in the middle.

  “I will baste thy hide right merrily!” cried Robin.

  “Ha!” laughed Hercules. “No mortal man can best me.”

  The two heroes started fighting on what was basically a double-wide balance beam. Robin faked like he was going to lead with his left, then whacked Hercules with his staff from the right.

  Hercules didn’t flinch.

  He swung at Robin Hood with his club. The hit landed hard but Robin held his ground. Robin swung again. Hercules clubbed him again. Robin swung. Hercules clubbed.

  Swing.

  Club.

  Swing.

  Club.

  And so it went.

  For ten minutes.

  Grunting and grumbling, the two men exchanged blow after blow, neither giving an inch.

  “This might go on all day,” said Maid Marian, setting herself down on a large rock. “It usually doth.”

  “Um, you guys?” Billy finally shouted. “The Sheriff of Nottingham might hear you if you keep whacking and thwacking each other like that. So maybe one of you should hurry up and fall into the river. Probably you, Robin Hood, because no way are you stronger than Hercules.”

  The instant Billy said this, Hercules caught Robin’s oaken staff in his free hand and flipped Robin off the bridge and into the river.

  “Ha! Where are you now, you boastful mortal?” said Hercules, standing triumphantly astride the bridge.

  “Why, he is in the river!” cried Maid Marian, doubling over with laughter.

  “I am also quite wet,” Robin Hood said cheerfully. “Good sir, you didst beat me fair and square.”

  “Give me your hand.” Hercules reached down and hauled Robin out of the stream. “You are a good fighter. My head is still buzzing from your many manly blows.”

  “And thou art a stouthearted lad!”

  “So, um, why don’t you ask him to join your band of merry men?” suggested Billy.

  “Merry people,” Marian gently corrected as she rose off the rock. “Speak, Hercules. Wouldst thou throw in with us?”

  Hercules turned to Billy. “What do you think?”

  “It beats shoveling horse poop for that crazy king with the weird name.”

  “You are wise, little friend. Very well, Robin. Today I shall become one of your merry people!”

  “And thou, Sir William of Goat?” asked Maid Marian. “Will thou join us as well?”

  “Really?” said Billy. “You guys want me?”

  Billy was sort of shocked. In gym class, nobody ever wanted him on their team.

  “Please join our merry band,” said Marian.

  “Aye, marry,” added Robin.

  “Okay. Cool. I’d love to be on your team.”

  And that was when the Sheriff of Nottingham rode in on a giant black horse.

  “Ah-ha!” cried the sheriff so loudly it spooked his stallion. “I have found thee!”

  Robin turned to Billy and whispered, “Thou spoketh most true. Our whacking and thwacking did reveal our hiding place.”

  Maid Marian propped her hands on her hips and glowered at the sheriff. “You wouldst dare enter Sher
wood Forest?”

  “Oh, indeed I wouldst. In truth, I wouldst travel to the very ends of the earth to see you two lawless scoundrels brought to justice!”

  The sheriff was a bony, sour-looking grouch dressed all in black. He sat slumped in his saddle making a face like he hadn’t enjoyed whatever he’d just eaten for lunch. His horse, also completely black, was even nastier-looking—especially when it flared its enormous nostrils.

  “You there! Boy!” The sheriff wagged a gloved finger at Billy. “What be thy name?”

  Hercules strode forward to put his mammoth body between Billy and the sheriff, while Robin slid an arrow out of his quiver and nocked it to his bowstring. Meanwhile, Marian had her right hand hovering over her dagger.

  “This is Billy of the goats that are gruff,” said Hercules.

  “He is known far and wide as the noble Sir William of Goat,” added Robin.

  “He is our new friend,” said Marian.

  “I see,” the sheriff said with a smirk. “And didst my ears deceive me, Sir William, or didst thou just now declare thyself to be an ally to outlaws such as these?”

  Billy gulped. “Maybe.”

  “Ah-ha-ha-ha!” laughed Robin. “Of course he did!”

  The sheriff reined his horse to the left so he could prance sideways and glare at Billy.

  “Take care, Sir William!” cried the sheriff. “ ’Tis treason to join this band of thieves. Treason, I say!”

  For some reason, Billy nodded. “Okay. Thanks for the heads-up, sir.”

  “So you confess to being a traitor?” The sheriff swiftly pulled his sword out of its scabbard. “Then by the power vested in me by His Majesty King John, I hereby sentence thee to death!”

  “Flee, Sir William!” cried Robin.

  Marian whipped out her small dagger and hurled it, end over end, straight at the sheriff.

  The blade hit its mark, spearing the black-hearted villain in the meaty part of his left leg.

  “Curses and foul language!” the sheriff screamed as he plucked the knife out of his thigh and writhed in pain.

  “Run, Billy!” shouted Hercules. “Run!”

  “Take thy leave before thou diest!” added Marian.

  Diest?

  She didn’t have to say that twice.

  Billy took off like he had rockets in his shoes.