The Wild Things

CHAPTER XXXIV

“I can’t feel it so well,” Douglas said, holding his half-chewed leg, which looked, after being gnawed on by some kind of carnivorous underground vine, a lot like a piece of black licorice. “Not that I’m complaining.”

It was later, dark, and they were all around a small fire. All of the beasts were trying as best they could to recover from the war, and were waiting sullenly to eat something Douglas had prepared — a victory dinner, he was calling it. Even though his leg had been partially devoured, he was in a bright mood, high on the compliment Max, the king, had paid his heretofore unnoticed arm.

Alexander stared at Max. “That was a dumb idea.”

“I’m still sort of hollow,” Ira moaned. “My eyeballs feel loose …”

“Quiet Ira,” Judith snapped. “Everyone’s eyeballs feel loose. I can barely feel my brain. Can anyone feel their brain?”

No one answered. No one could feel their brains.

Without a word, the Bull came to Max, took the crown from his head, and put it in the center of the fire. As before, Max didn’t want to question the tradition, though he really didn’t like seeing his crown there, under the flames.

Max’s head was a muddle. Maybe he hadn’t thought the war through. It had seemed like simple fun when he had first pictured it, with a glorious beginning, a difficult but valor-filled middle, and a victorious end. He hadn’t accounted for the fact that there might not be much of a resolution to the battle, and he hadn’t imagined what it would feel like when the war just sort of ended, without anyone admitting defeat and congratulating him for his bravery. Instead, Judith and Ira had been thrown off the cliff, and Katherine and Carol had gotten angrier at each other, and Alexander wasn’t talking to Ira, because somehow in his mind it was Ira’s fault that Alexander had gotten hit so many times with rocks. Meanwhile, the Bull was now sitting off to the side of the fire, dirt everywhere on him. He had walked straight through the battlefield all day, absorbing hundreds of blows, without ever ducking or running. Other than the scrapes and dust, though, his appearance hadn’t changed much. If anything, he seemed more alive, more likely to talk.

“So Max,” Judith said. “Was this what you had in mind, or did I misunderstand something? You get to the island, declare yourself king, and then try to get us killed half a dozen ways? Was that the idea?”

“Judith, stop,” Carol said firmly. “Everyone was trying to kill everyone. Don’t flatter yourself. Besides, I’m sure Max has it figured out.”

Carol looked to Max and gave him a warm smile. Max tried to smile back, but he was still having trouble squaring the gentle Carol he knew and admired with the Carol who hadn’t felt the least hesitation with seeing his friends flattened by flaming boulders. Max was feeling chopped up inside. Never before had such a disaster so undebatably been his fault. He had brought up the war, and half of the participants had nearly died. It seemed to Max that everything he did, at home or here on this island, caused permanent damage. And Katherine, who alone seemed capable of really listening to him, was nowhere to be found.

“Food’s almost done,” Douglas said, strutting around with his right arm half-flexed, as if hoping for another affirmation of his extraordinary limb.

“Close your eyes, Max,” he said.

Max closed his eyes.

“I made a surprise for you. Your first royal meal.”

Max could smell something being put under his nose. His body shook involuntarily. It was the most potent and wretched smell he had ever encountered. It was like a thousand long-dead fish soaked in gasoline and eggs.

“Okay, now you can look,” Douglas said.

Max opened his eyes.

He almost jumped. It was a huge snake. Or a worm. About a foot in diameter. Wet and brown and purple, about eleven feet long. Douglas had placed it on Max’s lap.

“Don’t worry. We killed him,” Douglas said. He laughed. “You thought it was still alive! That’s funny.”

Max stood up, letting the worm roll off his lap. A thick brown and green residue remained on his white fur.

“Something wrong, King?” Douglas asked.

Max tried to mask his horror.

“No, no!” he said, then found the appropriate answer. “I just wanted to get a better look at it.”

Douglas smiled. “Yeah, I got him out of the lagoon. He was sort of wrapping himself around Judith, so I dove down and grabbed him. He’s probably lived there for a hundred years! And now you get to eat him!”

Douglas was staring at Max, searching for signs of approval. Max tried to smile.

“You can eat the mouth if you want,” Douglas said. “That’s the part with the most texture.”

Max’s stomach was sliding down his legs. He had to come up with a reason he wasn’t going to eat the worm.

He looked around, finding no answers in the dirt or trees, but when he raised his eyes to the sky, he found the solution.

“I’m afraid I can’t eat this dinner tonight. I thank you very much, but the kings where I come from don’t eat on nights without stars.”

The beasts accepted this — “Oh” “Too bad for you” “Kings have it rough” — they said, and began to eat. They grabbed at the wet flesh of the giant worm with their claws, the bloody juice pouring down their chins and between their fingers. Max couldn’t watch. He stared at the fire.

And as they ate it, the worm, Max soon realized, was causing different reactions in different beasts. Ira became quiet and melancholy, his eyes welling as he thought of some distant sweet memory. Douglas tried to fight the effects, his eyes darting around as his mouth went slack and his words began to slur. As for Judith, she became flirty, touching everyone on the arm, the shoulders, giggling and finding a half-dozen reasons to get up and find her way to Douglas so she could touch the back of his neck. But when he slapped her paw away for the last time, her sharper edges appeared again, and she narrowed her eyes at Max.

“I can’t believe we’re still not talking about what’s on everyone’s mind,” Judith said. “The king here is trying to kill off some of us. Is that of concern to anyone?”

No one answered, but it was obvious that the subject was on the minds of at least half the beasts.

“So Max sailed for over a year!” Carol offered, intent on changing the subject.

“That’s a long time,” Douglas said cheerfully.

“A whole year alone,” Ira said, looking up into the darkness. “That’s so sad.”

“Why’d it take that long, King? Slow boat?” Judith asked, her eyes full of menace.

“No, it was a good boat,” Max said.

“So you’re just not a good sailor?” she taunted.

“No, I’m a really good sailor. I mean, the boat didn’t have a motor on it. I was sailing as fast as that boat …”

“Oh, I’m just giving you a hard time,” Judith giggled, without any mirth at all. “Don’t be so sensitive! Really though, have we already experienced the full range of your plans for fixing everything on the island? A parade, a war, and then we all die from molten lava?”

Carol stared Judith down. Finally she looked away and continued eating.

“I’m feeling the void again,” Ira added.

“Don’t worry, Ira,” Douglas said. “Max’ll solve it. He always says the right things. Just wait. Right Max? Go ahead.”

Everyone stared at Max, and Max was surprised to see that their faces were genuinely hopeful, expectant. There was real hope that Max, their king, truly did have a notion.

“Well, I thought …” Max mumbled. He didn’t, actually, have another plan at all. The silence stretched out uncomfortably. Finally he arrived at an idea, though its quality was uncertain. “I thought … I thought I could give you all royal titles.”

Ira looked confused.

Judith cleared her throat.

Alexander snickered.

No one was impressed, not even Carol. The look on his face was more like shock. He couldn’t believe that was the best Max could do. Max tried to spruce up the plan:

“…and I could give you all special duties and, like, those things that go across your chest,” he said, while gesturing in a diagonal across his torso, trying to remember the word for sash.

“Snakes?” Judith guessed.

“No …” Max said.

“We already have snakes,” Judith said.

“No, no …” Max insisted.

“I don’t like wearing snakes there,” Ira said.

“It’s not a snake!” Max snapped. “It’s more royal than that. It’s—”

“A stick?” Douglas said, trying to help.

“No!” Max wailed.

“Sounds like like a snake to me,” Judith said. “And no one likes to wear snakes there—”

“Let me finish!” Max barked.

Max tried to think of the word. “It’s …” he meandered, gesturing across his chest again. “It’s …”

Finally he gave up, defeated. “You’ll have royal titles,” he mumbled.

The silence was profound. Max’s subjects were so under whelmed that they didn’t need to say anything. Max had to move onward and upward as soon as he could, so he stood, thinking he knew what to do. It had cheered his mom up, it had made his sister and her friends laugh hysterically — it would have to work here. He made his arms and legs stiff and began his incredible robot dance.

But as he did the dance — and he did it very well, as good as ever before — the beasts, far from being impressed, were alarmed.

“What’s he doing?” Judith asked. “What is that?”

“Uh oh, somebody broke the king,” Ira concluded.

“Is he sick?” Judith wondered aloud.

“I don’t know, but it’s making me sick,” Alexander grumbled. “What kind of king would do something like this?”

Max gave up. He stopped dancing. The beasts seemed greatly relieved to see him sit down again.

“I think he’s done now,” Ira noted.

“I hope so,” Alexander said.

“What just happened?” Judith asked.

“I was doing a robot,” Max explained. “You’re supposed to laugh.”

No one had laughed. No one was smiling now.

“What’s a robot?” Ira said. He sounded scared.

“A robot?” Max said. “A robot?”

No one knew what a robot was.

“C’mon, a robot,” Max said. “Robots are the best.”

“What’s that?” Carol said sharply.

“Robots are the best,” Max repeated, less sure now.

Carol seemed genuinely taken aback.

“That’s what we waited for?” Alexander said. “Pathetic.”

“Did that kind of thing work the last place you were king?” Judith asked.

Douglas furrowed his brow. The Bull’s stare was oppressive. Even Carol looked disappointed in Max, profoundly so.

“I’m getting hungry,” Alexander said, staring intensely at Max.

Carol could see where this was headed.

“You just ate,” Carol growled. “No one’s hungry.”

Judith glared at Max and licked her lips. “Everyone’s hungry and you know it.”

Carol stood, imposing his figure over the group. “No. No one’s hungry. Now get up. Let’s go,” he said. The beasts stared at him, as if sizing him up anew — had he lost any strength? Was he vulnerable in any new way? After a moment, it seemed that no, no one could yet challenge his primacy. They all began to stand and prepared to go.

At that moment, a snowflake appeared. Then more — the snow fell in drunken spirals. Douglas’s admiration for Max had faded, and now he looked at Max in an ugly way. “Good thing you destroyed our homes, King.”

Alexander was happy to heap on the scorn. “Thanks, Your Heinous. I mean Your Highness.”

Judith, Alexander, and Ira walked off. Douglas soon followed, shaking his head. As he left the campground he paused, wanting to say something to Max, but unsure just what that something would be.

Carol waited for everyone to leave. He was on the other side of the fire, looking at his hands.

“Robots are the best, huh? I thought I—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Max said. “I didn’t mean they were better than you.”

“But you said they were the best. Who are they, anyway? Are they bigger than me? Stronger? I don’t know how that could be possible.”

“They’re not,” Max said. “You’re the biggest. By far.”

“Then why’d you say they were the best? That means you think they’re better. I mean, forget it. There’s no reason to talk about it. What’s said is said.”

Max was lost. He was so tired and confused he didn’t know what to say. He stared at the ground for a moment, and when he looked up, Carol was crouched down, his ear to the earth.

“I don’t like the sound of this,” he said. “It’s loud and it’s scrambled and it’s very angry.”

Carol turned to leave the campsite.

“Night, Max. I guess you have a lot to figure out tonight. Good luck.” With that, he disappeared into the woods.

Max heard a crackle of twigs breaking. He turned to see the Bull, gigantic and menacing, standing behind him. They stared at each other. Neither blinked. Then, without a sound, the Bull turned and walked away into the night.

Max was alone. The fire was dwindling, it was snowing lightly, he was on an island in the middle of the sea, and he was alone.