Draft note: The Stinkwater Escapee is being shared as a work in progress. This chapter may be revised before the novel’s final publication.
“It looks nice,” says Big Sal. “You know it?”
“Do I know it? I live there, man. Half of Ankerton probably lives there. I would say it’s a big part of what makes Ankerton as weird as it is.”
The employee in the frog costume sighs, says “One of these days I’ll get out of this city. Until then, I’m just amphibbin’ around. Phibbit.” And he hops back to a green chair that resembles a curled lily pad.
Wade makes a light underhand motion to toss the phone to him, but when Big Sal just looks at him, Wade hands it over.
“What do you mean?” says Big Sal, watching the employee settle into his chair.
Why do I feel like I want to be a frog? There are so many frogs here. Real ones. Human ones. And now that I think about it, I think I just saw through the eyes of one.
Mosquitos seem to swarm together, buzzing inside his head.
“Ever wonder why there’s so many people wearing onesies or costumes in Ankerton?” asks Wade.
“No.”
Buzzzz.
Wade shakes his head and motions for Big Sal to follow. As they step toward the door, Lucius—the bullfrog—averts his eyes from staring out the window to settle on Big Sal.
“Boy, what do we have here?” he says in the way that only Big Sal can hear.
“Riddit, riddit,” says Wade, repeating what he heard. “As ancient as he is, this guy is always talkative.”
The buzzing in Big Sal’s head turns up a notch, only to fade as they leave Pond Hoppers.
Big Sal wants to ask Lucius what he means, but Wade is out the door and Big Sal has to hustle to keep up.
My legs are too short for this.
“Today’s my day off,” says Wade, standing at a bus stop again as the bus begins to slow. “Wouldn’t hurt to send Hooks a text letting them know what you’re doing. They should be fine, since you’re doing things that needed to get done anyways. So as for Moratisto, I can get you pointed in the right direction, but you’ll want to know how to get back to Hooks on the bus again.”
“How do I do that?”
The FlaminGo bus announces its stop, they get on, and it takes off, this time in a different direction.
“You send that message to Hooks yet?”
“Not yet. I just talk to my phone?”
“Give it a shot.”
Big Sal holds his phone and talks to it. The screen stays dark.
“’kay, buddy. Phone basics. Turn it on,” says Wade. “If it’s off, nothing’s going to happen. No apps, no alarms, no voice control, no messages and…definitely no calls.”
“Right.” Big Sal pushes the button on the side. A few moments later the phone sits idle.
“Do you know how to keep it charged?” asks Wade.
“What’s that?”
Wade takes a moment, looking from Big Sal to the phone.
“Think of the phone like your stomach. You’ve gotta put stuff inside in order to make it work, right?”
At this, his stomach rumbles. He can’t remember the last time he ate.
When did I stop eating so much? I feel…smaller.
“I guess so,” he says, looking down at his yellow belly. It’s fading, and as he moves his hands over it, dust drifts down.
I need my own space. I think something is happening. Something normal…I think.
“So you gotta plug it in. See that little thing on the edge there?” He points to where the charging port is.
Big Sal turns his phone to look at it.
“That thing takes a plug,” says Wade. “That’s how the energy gets into the phone. You should get a wire at the Moratisto General Store sometime this afternoon.”
“Okay,” says Big Sal. Then, pressing the microphone button, “Send a message to Hooks.”
“Congratulations on your new phone!” says the dried-out phone, completing its reset. “Please wait while we identify your distinct voice.”
“What does this mean?” he asks Wade.
Wade shakes his head, then nods to the phone.
After an animation, it finally blips and says, “I have found four possibilities that you might be referring to. Hooks Bait and Tackle, Hooks Themed Restaurant at the Docks, Hooked…”
“Hooks Themed Restaurant,” says Big Sal, interrupting the voice.
“What would you like to send to Hooks Themed Restaurant?”
“Uhh. What do I say?” he says to Wade.
Wade compresses his lips, looking down at the recording animation on the phone. He leans closer and whispers.
“Tell them ‘I’m getting a place. I’ll let you know once I know more.’”
Big Sal repeats it. “Tell them I’m getting a place, I’ll let you know once I know more.”
“Your message has been sent!”
Wade holds a palm against his forehead and chuckles.
“Man, you’re gonna fit right in at Moratisto,” he says. “So, one other thing you can do with the phone. You can tell it to navigate to specific places. That’s probably how you’re going to want to get to and from work for now until you got the buses memorized.”
“Like this?” he says, then “Navigate me to my new home.”
“You need to set your home location,” says the phone. “Do you want to use your current location?”
“No, no. Don’t do that yet,” says Wade. “It’ll set whatever address we’re at right now, and I don’t think you want to be coming back to…” He looks out the window as the bus crosses an intersection.
“Vine Street all the time,” he says.
Big Sal recalls being unable to smell here, but still being called and spoken to. What was it the strange man had asked him?
Why are you here?
So why am I here?
“Alright, so if the Moors is going to be your new home,” says Wade. “You’re going to want to know that it’s a tight community. Everyone knows everyone.”
“I miss my old home,” says Big Sal. “Everyone knew me there.”
Wade is quiet for a moment. Then, “Yeah, I feel ya man. Maybe there’s something you can do to honor its memory.”
“What does that mean?”
Wade shrugs. “Different people do different things to work through grief. Some people bake. Some people write. Some tend to gardens, care for pets, many different things. Personally, I write.”
“I got you flaming there,” says the bus. “Transit corridor indigo four.”
“We gotta transfer buses,” says Wade.
After a few minutes, an express bus takes them through a different part of Ankerton.
Shops, restaurants and charging stations flash by, blurring with the stinky scent of humanity. The bus moves fast enough that Big Sal decides to sit. His tail seems to squish easier, and he sits in a corner seat.
I need my own space, and soon.
Beyond the tall buildings, several rolling hills appear. As the buildings slip past, Big Sal recognizes Moratisto from the video, a glittering lake below its hills.
I’m not seeing the same thing as the bird. This is what I’m seeing, I guess?
The idea gives him a headache.
The bus zooms across a bridge over the blue lake.
“So, let’s see one of your places to check out,” says Wade.
Big Sal holds up the renter’s note the kiosk printed out. “What do I do with this?”
“Ask your phone,” says Wade.
Big Sal does, and after a moment of confused talk and a request for his location, the phone gives him the first apartment to visit.
“Badger peak, blue level, section S, pad sixteen,” says the phone.
The bus comes to a halt in a bus loop where many buses can pull in and stop. Wade leads out of the bus, shields his eyes and looks up.
“See the badger in the air above the peak overhead?”
Big Sal looks up, and sees what looks like a simple picture of one in the sky over the peak, an outline. It’s not a badger as far as his nose is concerned.
“I think so.”
But a dark spot flying high overhead with a recognizable scent tells him there’s a dark bird watching him.
“There are five peaks. Badger, Dragon, Rabbit, Phoenix and Salamander. Once you’re inside, pictures lead you wherever you need to go. No language required.”
They step through a door that slides open for them, with an interior so big that Hooks Restaurant could fit inside.
The place almost smells like a book with so many different human scents stacked on top of each other. But this place he can walk through.
A curved ceiling stretches overhead like the inside of a mountain. All the way at the back are more doors where sunlight streams in. Between him and those doors, on the left, is a freestanding, interior building with the sign “Moratisto General Store.” On the right a large desk with a sign overhead reads “Residential Support.”
Hanging from the high ceiling just above people’s heads is a large sign with the five different animals and arrows pointing in different directions.
“Badger is that way?” asks Big Sal.
“You got it,” says Wade.
A person in a large yellow chicken costume walks up to him, stands with their hands on their hips. A scent of hot smoke rolls out of the costume.
“Cluck,” says the chicken. It nods its head, as if sizing him up. “Cluck…cluck.”
The scent changes to a milky vanilla and the chicken bows.
Walking away, it says quietly, “Cluuuck.”
“What was that?” asks Big Sal.
“Just someone being ridiculous,” says Wade.
A group of kids runs past, yelling and shouting about being late for class, their voices disappearing as soon as the doors close.
“Don’t worry, once you get into the individual levels, things aren’t as chaotic,” says Wade. “Down here at this entrance, things are always loud.”
Big Sal follows the Badger signs to an elevator, where he pushes the button. In a moment, the doors open and three adults, two kids and one dog exit.
The dog sees him, sniffs the air and yips twice quietly.
SEE YOU LATER, GATOR, says the dog to him.
Big Sal watches the dog go. It doesn’t feel like a snack.
I don’t understand this. Now…do I eat at all?
“Push the blue button?” he asks as they enter the elevator.
“Mmhmm,” says Wade with a nod.
After a few moments of zooming upwards, it slows, and the doors open.
Wade explains how section S means south. Big Sal finds apartment sixteen. At first, he doesn’t understand how to open the door, but Wade suggests he look at his phone.
Raising his phone, it flashes “Temporary Viewing Access Granted.” The door beeps and unlatches, letting him in.
From the door, he can see out a window across the apartment. It is mostly blue sky, with streaks of white clouds high overhead. Moving a little closer, other peaks and their valleys come into view below the window.
Wade whistles.
“Now that’s a view. Mine is on yellow level in Salamander. It’s…”
“…too high. I feel like I’m going to fall out,” says Big Sal. Using his phone, he finds the next closest apartment.
“Alright, let’s keep moving,” says Wade.
An escalator takes them down one level to a hallway with a green Rabbit on the walls leading to the next peak.
I wish I had legs like Wade.
The next apartment looks great, but smoke lingers despite an open window. It seems to be in the walls, making Big Sal’s nose twitch.
“That smelled like sandalwood incense,” says Wade as they head to the next apartment to view. “Like it had been burned every day for years.”
“My nose did not like how strong it was,” says Big Sal.
“Neither did mine.”
Upon opening the door to the next place, Big Sal begins to feel like he’s coming home. The furniture looks comfortably worn. The apartment overlooks the middle valley between the five peaks, and terraces are visible with dirt paths snaking between gardens and yards. But there’s a rot smell.
“Nope,” says Wade. “On your phone, indicate that this one needs attention. They need to find out what’s rotting in here. Too bad, nice place.”
Big Sal tells his phone this, and when they leave, the door clicks shut and a red light turns on next to the door knob.
“What else do you have?” asks Wade.
“Uh, Yellow Dragon S 7,” reads Big Sal from his phone.
“Oh, that’s just around the corner,” says Wade.
My legs are so tired. I may as well just go to Hooks and do this later.
But when they open the door to Yellow Dragon S 7, Big Sal feels less overwhelmed.
Similar to the last one, it also looks out over a valley, this one to the Salamander peak. A double-wide patio door next to a large, open window leads to a small yard edged with bushes. Slightly green and smelling of algae, a swimming pool nestles into the yard, leaves floating on its surface. A mature maple tree sits at a far corner, giving shade to the pool and the yard, a syrupy sweet scent that he has not smelled before. Between the bushes on the side opposite the tree is a gate opening onto a dirt path that runs up and down the valley. A vine with sour-smelling red berries twines the gate, the hedge, and the tree together, tendrils snaking their way into the apartment around the doorframe.
“Ohhh,” says Big Sal. “This is nice.”
Cork flooring near the doors offers soft walkspace, but the living room floor is a high pile carpet that looks like grass. It smells a little like feet, but it’s been cleaned and smells more of lemon. A ceiling fan turns slow overhead. Inside at the left of the front door is a large mirror, while to the right of the door a kitchen opens up with silvery kitchen appliances. A large curved faucet in the sink drips water and sounds like music to Big Sal.
Wade walks across the room to the patio door and opens both doors. A gentle breeze fills the space.
“See the pool with the blow-up zebra?”
Big Sal moves next to Wade. “What’s a zebra?”
“Black and white. Looks like a horse.” He points.
Big Sal spots the zebra.
“That’s my place. We’ll be able to see each other!”
“That’s a good thing,” says Big Sal.
Wade claps his hands, rubs them, and breathes deep.
“You good, big guy? I should be going. Got some errands I need to run.”
“I think so.”
“Remember how to get to Hooks?”
“Yes.” And with this, Big Sal pulls out his phone and, pressing the microphone button, tells it he has found his place. After a short conversation the phone asks him if he wants to pay the deposit and his first month’s rent. Using both his voice and a few taps on the buttons, he confirms.
“Congratulations on your new pad!” chirrups the phone. “Pond Hoppers and Moratisto would like to invite you to our community breakfast every Saturday morning at 10:30 AM! Bring your loved ones, your pets, even your old shell of a person to enjoy the new you!”
“You should go to that,” says Wade, heading to the front door, his hand on the knob. “It’ll be good. It’s free food, paid for by the Homeowners Association, which we all pay into. You’re going to want to talk to Maury, the chatbot in the Moratisto app.”
“What’s a chatbot?”
“I’ll be home later tonight after dinner if you need a hand with that. But I really got to get going here man.”
“Thanks. Uh. Thank you for your help, Wade.”
“My pleasure, Sal. I’ll be seeing you around.”
Wade pulls the door closed as a dark form blots out the light in the small yard outside.
“Raven,” says Big Sal, turning to watch the wings flap as Raven lands in the yard, rippling the water in the pool and sending leaves flying in a whirl through the open patio doors and into the room, the air itself picking up more speed like a diving bird.
“Boy, what do we have here,” caws Raven, the voice cracking as Big Sal feels himself begin to crack.
“It’s just a molting, right?” says Big Sal as he finally relaxes and watches the dust begin to accelerate off his skin, larger pieces falling away onto the cork. But this time, instead of just falling off, the downdraft from Raven’s wings pushes the dust, the skin around him, faster. Then the wind picks up, bursting, something alive inside its belly.
I thought I was a frog for a moment. And then I thought I was a bird. I saw this place. From Raven’s eyes.
This thought turns his mind into a fluttering, spinning whirl, and to keep from getting dizzy, he has to close his own eyes.
Wind rushes around and scents begin to pour out of him. Cilantro fills the air like it is the air, then comes a peachy bison stew…
Why peachy? What is happening? This isn’t a normal molt…
More human scents begin to stream from him, from banana to hot metal and mango, all swirling and turning and rushing and buffeting him until he can’t stand. Off-balance, he thinks he falls, but can’t tell if he’s on the floor or not. Where did his tail go? Spicy butter whooshes out of him like a tornado, followed by a deep clover honey that fills the room like a cloud.
Rocking him like he’s riding waves in a swamp, or a pool, the maelstrom whips up leaves and dust and dirt and he feels it tearing at him, reducing him, but still lifting him up. He feels himself getting even smaller in this storm of confusion, but also something else, something he hasn’t felt since his first flight out of Stinkwater. Lighter?
“Boy…what do we have…here?” caws Raven. “Boy.”
The swirl cracks open, bursts skywards, only to patter into the ceiling fan, spinning it backwards and scattering across the apartment. Wind skitters along the wall to the mirror next to the front door, which rattles, falls off the wall and smashes on the floor at an angle. Shattered pieces scatter across the room.
He opens his eyes as the swirling in his head begins to subside.
Fingers. Smallish human fingers are the first thing he sees. Sticking out of soft sleeves printed with scales. He crinkles the onesie’s printed, yellow belly. Underneath, his own belly is smaller, smoother and yet somehow him. The onesie shuffles around his body as he moves.
“Where’s my snout? My nose?” he cries, reaching for it, but instead his hands hit his face so hard it hurts.
“Ow! Why so sensitive?”
“Cawww,” says Raven. “Cawww!”
He waits for the words, but the cawing stays cawing.
I can’t…I can’t understand Raven anymore. Oh no.
Bigger than a horse, the giant bird ducks, hops into the apartment through the open patio doors and fills the room.
Big Sal holds his hands up to shield himself against Raven, thinking the huge bird might just eat him. That thought is entirely new. But he can’t decide what’s more terrifying, the human fingers he sees, or the giant, black bird towering over him.
Raven looks about the room, tilting its head, then leans forward, tapping its beak against the cork floor once, twice, then three times.
Raven wants to show me something.
Raven’s beak begins to scratch through the leaves and flakes of his shed skin.
Big Sal gets to his feet to see what Raven is scratching, wobbles, and collapses to all fours. A large hood falls down over his head. His palm pins the loose cuff down, pulling the zipper tight under his chin. At first, he likes the discomfort, the pressure, then the zipper digs into a soft part under his chin. He grabs the zipper roughly and tries to shove it aside.
It doesn’t go as far as he’d like.
A whimper escapes from him, a sound and feeling that’s new and…smaller than before.
Again, balancing carefully, he stands to see what Raven is doing.
Raven draws an outline, filling it with crude eyes, claws, teeth and a tail.
It’s a crocodile. Like those simple pictures above the peaks. No smell.
Instead of scents drifting through his large, perpetually open nostrils so far away, now his nose is stuck to his face.
I can’t smell, he thinks. Not the way I used to.
“CAWWWW,” screeches Raven, drawing him back to the crocodile.
As he watches, Raven adds something else. It almost looks like an arrow pointing at the crocodile’s eye. But is that an eraser? A pencil drawing the crocodile?
“What? What is this? Why am I not a crocodile?” he asks Raven, pleading.
“Why am I not that?” he says, pointing at the floor.
His voice breaks and doesn’t sound like him. It’s a kid’s voice, an echo of what it once was.
“I can’t roar,” he whispers, tears welling up. “I can’t do the snap and sweep.”
Raven shakes a big, black head, eyes looking through him, reminding him of a different time and space. The sketch on the floor gets one last tap from the giant beak.
Shape your own end, is the thought that Big Sal thinks might not be his own.
Deftly and with great patience, Raven backs away so as to not disturb the artwork, ducks out the patio door, and hops into the cloudless void.
Sitting back onto his haunches, the creature once known as Big Al looks at his human hands, his feet, and wishes he hadn’t been wishing.
He catches his reflection in a large shard of mirror. His much smaller stomach sinks.
“Why am I…human?” he says.
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Chapter 32 text drops October 10
