The Dangerous Doors of Shannon Anderson

Chapter Twelve

My first thought was, Oh God, I'm alone in an abandoned treehouse in the middle of a wild jungle during a monsoon.

My second thought was, Fritz is gone and I can make a run for it.

Slowly, carefully, I stood up and tested my ankle and knee. The pain was pretty bad, but not intolerable. I hobbled to the door.

I had barely turned the knob when the wind caught the door and flung it open violently, carrying me with it. I stumbled forward, putting way too much pressure on my bad ankle and tumbling down onto my bad knee. The rain dumped down on me, making my hair stick to my face and in my eyes and my mouth. Thunder rumbled straight overhead, lightning flashed with a sharp sound, and not too far off I could see and hear a tree crack and crash to the forest floor. I crawled back into the safety of Falconhurst, snapping the door shut behind me and cursing my stupid idea as my leg throbbed hotly. It was all I could do to prop it back up on the step and lay down in the mud as the rain water dripped off my soaked body.

Before long, the door burst open and I could hear the driving rain and howling wind at full volume for a brief moment before the sounds were muffled again. Fritz stood over me, and he looked good all wet like that, not bedraggled as I surely did. His arms were full of coconuts and other fruits I didn't recognize which he dumped on the floor near my head. I sat up.

He looked me over but made no comment about how soaked I was. Hopefully he thought I'd just popped out to pee or something.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get any meat," he said. "My pistol was too wet to try. If I'd had my bow I surely could have shot some birds at least."

"That's okay." I was hungry, but all the same I wasn't too keen to eat campfire-roasted seagull. "What are those?" I pointed to some odd little fruits that were the size of an apple, but were dark purple and shaped like onions.

"Figs," Fritz said, slicing one open for me. I'd never been a huge fan of figs, but the fresh fruit tasted better than any fig I'd ever had in Iowa. It was sweet and delicious, and having something in my stomach made me feel like I was regaining some of my strength.

After we'd eaten our fill of fruit, Fritz ventured back outside to get more mud and leaves for my leg. But now that I had been fed and had my injuries attended to, my mind began to drift back to my door and how long I had been stuck in this tree for. It was definitely daytime now, but how early? Had I missed my drama exam? AP US history?

And then something occurred to me that I hadn't thought of the night before. Dad. What would happen when I didn't come downstairs for my omelet? He would be so worried. My stomach churned with guilt. Why couldn't I have just waited until my exams were over to get lost in a book?

By the end of the second day, I found myself wishing, not for the first time, that my life had a montage button. If this were a movie, a melancholy piano ballad would play, and for one glorious minute, time would fast-forward so that the audience wouldn't have to experience the excruciating boredom of being trapped inside a tree trunk with nothing to do but sit, eat, and sleep. And just like that the storm would be over, and Fritz and I would step out into the sunshine hand-in-hand, glad to finally be freed from our one-minute imprisonment. But plays didn't have montages, and neither did my life, so I had to wait for time to pass in the normal way.

The hours ticked by, and when he wasn't out gathering food and water for us, Fritz told me his life story: how he'd been born in the city of Bern, how this storm reminded him of the gale that had shipwrecked his family on the island in the first place, how his father had taught he and his brothers all manner of survival skills so that they might thrive in the wilderness. He made New Switzerland sound like extreme Boy Scout camp, and it was clear that he loved it here. When it got dark again, he managed to light a torch which he fit into a sconce in the wall, assuring me that it was perfectly safe to have a fire inside a closed structure made entirely of wood. I wasn't convinced, but the light was pleasant, and I spent the better part of the evening telling him my harrowing story of kidnap, unpaid ransoms, and growing up on a pirate ship in the Caribbean. I would have been having a good time fleshing out the details of my ridiculous tale if it wasn't for the nagging feeling in my gut of the hell I was going to face when I finally returned home. Missing exams was complicated, but I had a feeling that being a missing person would be worse.

It was another day and a half before the rain finally let up enough for Fritz to deem it safe to leave Falconhurst. My knee and ankle had both turned the most spectacular shades of purple and blue and green, and I had to use Fritz as a crutch to be able to walk at all.

"You're certain you won't come to Rockburg with me?" he asked again, leading my slowly through the soggy, muddy jungle.

"I can't," I said. "I just want to get back home. To my ship," I added. "If you can just lead me back to the spot where you found me a few days ago," (because I sure as hell didn't know where my door was), "I can make it the rest of the way."

"You're certain?"

"The pirates have no idea you and your family have inhabited this island. Who knows how they'd react if they saw you?"

"Violently," Fritz said knowingly.

"Oh, definitely."

He helped me hobble all the way back to the clearing I'd come out in a few days before. I could see my purple door in the tree trunk, right where I'd left it, wet from the rain. I felt a hundred times lighter just seeing it, and my leg didn't hurt nearly as bad.

"Right here is good," I said, grinning.

"You're certain?" Fritz looked so worried. It was adorable.

"Yes, this is perfect." I smiled and turned to face him, taking his hands in mine. "Thank you for all your help, Fritz. I'm sorry if I was uncooperative."

Fritz smiled, but he dropped my hands and took a step back. "Fare well, Shannon." He did an awkward little bow. "I hope you will not be gone so long next time." And without another word, he turned and disappeared into the trees.

I turned back towards my door and took a deep breath. I stepped toward it, gingerly because of my bad leg, crouched down, and turned the brass knob.

A/N: Do you think Shannon really missed any of her exams? Will it be thirty years in the future when she gets back? When have you ever wished that your life had a montage button? Let me know with a comment! And as always, I appreciate your continued support.