Toward her.
These dark shapes were also gorillas, she realized, recognizing their distinctive swaying arms and purposeful strides. At least a dozen gorillas. And they were walking right toward her, the silverback in the lead.
Felix waited until he thought ten minutes had gone by, then he waited for what he thought was another ten minutes, then another ten, before he finally ran down the path. When he reached the place where the snake had been, he held his breath, ready for those giant fangs to dig into his leg at any second. He was well past that spot before he finally exhaled and slowed down.
But there was no time to relax. As soon as he realized he hadn’t been bitten by a poisonous puff adder, he immediately began to worry over how he would ever find Maisie. If that gorilla had gone in a straight line, there was some hope. But if he turned left or right . . . well, then he could be anywhere, and so could Maisie. Even if they did move in this direction, Felix had no way of knowing if the gorilla had hurt Maisie. He could have crushed her or thrown her down or just about anything. Felix realized he was holding his breath again, and he forced himself to breathe out and then in, nice and slow, the way his mother always told him to do when he was frightened.
It felt to Felix like he’d walked forever when he finally saw fourteen gorillas up ahead standing in circle.
Felix stopped.
Now what should he do?
The gorillas looked busy. They chattered and pushed at one another, from enormous ones to three babies, all of them focused on something in the middle.
Two of the bigger gorillas stepped back from the circle, and Felix saw clearly what they were so interested in: Maisie.
He opened his mouth to shout, but then thought better of it. What would happen if he startled so many gorillas?
Most of the gorillas were just watching Maisie, their faces filled with curiosity. But two of them were poking her with their gnarly gorilla fingers, and sniffing her. Maisie stood perfectly still.
Suddenly, one of the biggest gorillas screamed and pounded his chest and ran, fast. The others paused only briefly. They lifted their faces and inhaled. Felix watched as they went from gentle curiosity to fear. In an instant, they all screamed and pounded their chests and scattered.
Maisie’s shoulders slumped with relief.
“Maisie!” Felix called, running as fast as he could toward her. “I’m here!”
When Maisie saw Felix, she burst into tears, letting herself get folded into his skinny-armed hug.
Maisie and Felix stayed like that, hugging and crying—Felix had started, too—for quite a while, the two of them sticky with sweat and tears and oppressive heat.
Finally, they calmed down and pulled apart, both of them talking at once: “Puff adder!”
“Silverback!”
“Paralyzed!”
“Paralyzed!”
“Slithering!”
“Gorillas!”
Maisie and Felix fell silent.
“Ziff twins,” Felix said.
“Uh-oh,” Maisie said.
Again, they fell silent. Around them, birds cawed and leaves rustled.
“If we say . . . you know . . . we’ll get out of here,” Maisie said finally.
“Well, out of the jungle,” he reasoned. “But not out of Africa.”
“Right,” Maisie said, disappointed. All lame demon would do is move them forward in time, not in place.
“If only we had another object,” she said, thinking out loud. “Then we could go somewhere nice and safe. And cool,” she added, wiping the sweat off her forehead for about the millionth time.
Next time, she decided, they would take an object that would bring them to Alaska. Maisie imagined snow and ice and cute husky dogs.
“We can’t leave them here,” Felix reminded Maisie.
“Well, we can’t leave at all,” she said.
Felix looked at her guiltily.
“Wait,” Maisie said. “We can leave?”
Felix nodded solemnly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the airplane compass.
“What is that?” Maisie asked.
“It’s part of an airplane,” Felix said. “An old-fashioned airplane. Like the Spirit of St. Louis.”
“The spirit of what?” Maisie asked, keeping her eye on the compass.
“Lucky Lindy’s plane,” Felix explained.
When Maisie still looked confused, he added, “The plane Charles Lindbergh flew solo across the Atlantic.”
Finally, Maisie looked at her brother, her face washed with determination.
“You mean we can get out of here and go to—”
“Little Falls, Minnesota,” Felix said. “At least, that’s what I’m guessing. He was born in Detroit, but his father was a congressman from Minnesota until 1917—”
“How do you know so much about this Lindbergh fellow?”
“I decided to do my aviation report on him,” Felix said sheepishly. “I took a few notes.”