After Ezra's ominous pronouncement, they resumed their journey through the dense, overgrown forest, weaving around enormous tree trunks and leaping over foot-high roots. Ezra had replaced Helen as Harold's support, which was a relief for both parties, as Harold was clearly too heavy for her, and she kept slouching. Though Harold couldn't help but feel a twinge of suspicion at Ezra's motives.

Helen walked on in front of them, her eyes piercing through the thick veil of leaves for any sign of movement. Harold, on the other hand, wasn't that worried. He knew that any possible enemy wasn't going to stay concealed in this environment for too long.

The sun was falling lower and lower across the sky, painting it a steadily deepening crimson. Harold knew that the forest would become far more threatening under the veil of night than in the daytime, but after hearing that their way off this island was within reach, it had stirred him into motion, and now he couldn't sit still until sunrise tomorrow. All he could do was move forward as fast as he could. The bird's beak had been made of some strange material that created a wound that even now hadn't fully healed, but he could feel his strength slowly returning to him. If need be, he could fight.

Then minutes later, without warning, a sound rang out through the forest, paralyzing them: a deep, blaring bellow that reverberated through the forest like a foghorn, but ten times more powerful.

"What was that?" Helen squeaked.

"It's that sound again. I heard it when I was on my way out the first time," said Ezra.

"And did you happen to see what caused the sound, as well?" Harold asked.

"No. I did see a few things, but nothing that made that sound."

"Wait, listen!" Helen held a finger to her lips, her eyes unfocused. "Do you hear that?"

Harold listened keenly. There was a torrent of noise issuing from all around them, chirping, buzzing, the roaring of wind and the rustling of leaves, but he tried to separate them from anything stranger, anything that wouldn't normally be found in a place like this. . . And then he heard it —

"Like . . . water splashing?" Harold said uncertainly.

"Yes!"

"Did you see a river anywhere nearby?" Harold asked Ezra, but he shook his head. The wound was starting to burn beneath the wrapping now.

"All right, I need to sit down," he groaned, feeling slightly embarrassed. Ezra and Helen settled down under the shade of a large pine tree, looking around while Harold tried to catch his breath. The sharp stinging of the bird's beak was radiating through his chest, as if the wound had reopened. He couldn't believe something like this had happened — again.

First the gorilla, then the hornets, now this. He was supposed to be the team's defender, their heavy-hitter, but at this point it seemed he was merely their scapegoat, destined to take every bruise and beating they were to be allotted.

Helen and Ezra did not rush him, but simply let the minutes sail by while Harold caught his breath. He could feel the wound healing underneath the bandages. It was an uncomfortable sensations, feeling the skin knitting back together as though invisible needles were sewing it up. It had always felt strange, but his healing capabilities were usually so fast that he barely had time to reflect on the discomfort. It had never been this slow before.

The sky was still darkening. As much as he would like to rest, he couldn't. They needed to get a move on before complete nightfall — because that was when the real monsters decided to come out.

He got back to his feet and Ezra began to support him along the path again.

"Wouldn't mind one of those Medipills right now," Harold said wistfully.

"Well, if Ezra's right and the ship's really close by, you can have as many as you want," said Helen, freeing her hair from a prickly vine. They walked on for a few more minutes in silence, then finally Ezra uttered the long-awaited words: "We're here!"

They stopped. Harold looked around — and saw nothing.

"I think the hunger's affecting your eyesight," he said.

"There's nothing here," Helen said, peering around. "Nothing."

"That's because you're not looking in the right place," Ezra said, and he pointed upwards. Harold and Helen followed the line of his finger, then Helen gasped. There it was, damaged in many places, but still sleek and shining weakly in the setting sun. The ship was perched on an enormous branch overhead, around which were hanging about a dozen, huge monkeys.

"It had to be monkeys," Harold said in exasperation.

"Oh yeah, Kierra told me about that. The first one of these Gargantuan things you ever met was a giant gorilla, wasn't it? And it beat the crap out of you and got away?"

"An oversimplification of what really happened, but you're right in essence," Harold said through gritted teeth.

"But none of these are as big as the white gorilla was. Maybe they're not as powerful either." Helen shrugged, looking as though she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

"Maybe not. Have you tried to confront them?" Harold asked Ezra.

Ezra scoffed. "Are you kidding? Have you seen those things? I saw a bunch of bananas that I thought I'd bring back to the cave, but they got to it first. And they started ripping each other apart to try to get it. So no, I didn't try to confront the vicious, oversized primates."

"Well, Harold's in no condition to fight," Helen said. "And there are way too many of them. So what do we do?"

"Can't you just use your sonic scream again? Like you did with the birds?"

Helen looked suddenly uncomfortable. "I don't like doing that. It's . . . it's dangerous. And it's taxing. It hurts my throat."

"These things could rip us apart in seconds and you're worried about getting a sore throat?" Ezra stared at her in disbelief.

"If she said she doesn't want to do it, then she doesn't want to do it," Harold snapped. "We'll just have to find another way to lure them away from the ship long enough to get it into the air."

"And how do we do that?"

"Hmm . . ." Helen put a finger to her chin. "Maybe we could try —" But her sentence ended in a scream. Harold whipped around, and to his horror, saw that a long, thick vine had curled around her waist. It lifted her into the air and began to bounce her around like a loose bungee cord.

"Helen!"

The evening air was thick with her screams, piercing the sinister stillness, and alerting their simian foes above. The monkeys wheeled around at the sound and began to screech animatedly, but while they hopped and howled above, the vines below were becoming a more serious threat. More and more sprung up from the ground and came lashing down like whips. Ezra dove at Harold, pushing him out of the way and rolling into the grass. Then he too leapt up, fire blazing in his palms, the fierce orange light shining through the gloom.

Vines burst into flames all around, quivering violently as the seething flames traveled down their lengths. Then they withered and curled into ash before Harold's very eyes.

He could hear the troop of monkeys drawing ever nearer, but even if he did feel a little better, there was no way he could fight that many of them now. The heavy thudding met his ears, like a thousand men charging into battle. And the first lifted him from the ground. It was an ugly thing; long, protruding snout, with thick dark blue markings streaked across its face, and jagged fangs slathered with ropes of saliva that sprayed into Harold's face as it roared.

Harold's leg swung up and made contact with its furry chest. The monkey was blown backwards with a yelp. Helen was right: they were nowhere near as strong as Gregor.

His wound still pulsing, but feeling much stronger than all the while they'd been walking, Harold fought through the tide of fur. He could hardly see, except for the sudden bursts of illumination that erupted every time Ezra launched another fireball, but he could tell where his enemies were by their silhouettes imprinted against the surrounding darkness, their furious cries, the pounding of their feet across the grass.

The moment they came they met his fist, soaring away into the night. But they were still coming. . . . Left, right, behind, above, he attacked from all directions, but it made no difference. He didn't know if they were simply recovering too quickly, or if more were joining the fray. All he knew was that he wasn't taking them out as fast as they were appearing.

Then one grabbed his arm. It twisted the limb behind his back, and Harold screamed. The others pounced, slamming on top of him and pressing him deeper into the floor. Grass tickled his nose, pressing against his face like a thick, rather itchy carpet.

But then came a sudden lightness. The weight had disappeared almost as soon as it had come, and now all he felt was a curious breeze sweeping over his skin, dipping beneath the material of his clothes. He whipped up, spitting grass, and saw, framed in firelight, a broad grin across his face —

"Jimmy?"

"What would you people do without me, huh?"

Beside him were Kierra and Amber, fighting as well. Helen had been freed, and she and Ezra drew nearer as well, all forming a tight circle around him, protecting him where he lay.

"Whenever you're ready, feel free to pitch in!" Helen yelled irritably, dodging another crazed vine.

Harold jumped up, ignoring the stitch in his side, and thrust his hands into the ground. The grass ran almost all the way up to his shoulder, but he could feel the solid ground underneath it. His fingers dug into it, breaking through the stone.

"Jimmy! On my signal, get us airborne!"

Jimmy looked around quick enough to nod, then raised a monkey upon a gust of wind and sent it whirling away.

Harold pressed his fingers deeper into the rock, securing a stronger hold. Then — "Now!"

An explosion of wind erupted around him, followed by several screams as Jimmy pushed them all into the air. Harold pulled up the slab of rock, then slammed it downwards. The force spread out like a tangible wave, tearing up the ground below and forcing up new fragments of stone that crashed into the surrounding members of the tribe, knocking them all down. Harold drifted through the air, then touched down beside the others, feet away from the site of destruction, and began to run. As soon as the reached the trunk below the ship, Jimmy flew up with Helen and Kierra, then returned for Ezra and Amber, and finally Harold.

Safe on top of the branches, they looked down. Fires were breaking out across the landscape, and they could see the massive, hairy bodies of the monkeys hurrying for cover. They turned to see the drop ship, nestled among the vines.

"Go," said Ezra. "We'll cover you."

Helen, Kierra, and Harold rushed inside while the others, the long-ranged fighters, remained behind. The hatch was open, but their well of good luck ran dry there. While the outside was almost perfectly preserved, the interior was a wreck. The walls were battered and dented; wires were stringing from their sockets; cupboard doors were flung open with their contents spilled across the ground. It was as if the monkeys had had a rather wild party inside.

"The storm didn't break it, so the monkeys had to. Just our luck, huh?" Harold said bitterly.

Kierra held a flashlight she had picked up from the floor higher so that the light cast over the walls. Harold could see a number of other flashlights, which Helen gathered up and passed around, and many small boxes scattered around the pilot's seat. Helen immediately threw herself onto the floor and began to scrabble among the mess. After nearly a minute, she stood up, her arms full of what she must have deemed useful enough items, and dumped them into a bag Amber had pulled from the cupboards.

The last thing she had she gave to Harold. A box of Medipills.

"There's not much else that we can use, we'll just have to — Harold!" she said, aghast, as he dumped three of the little black balls into his mouth at once. "You're only supposed to take two at most, in an interval of a few hours —"

"Stop worrying, I'll be fine," Harold said soothingly. "Really, I once ate a whole bag on a dare in second grade. My metabolism can handle it."

She looked like she still wanted to argue, but contented herself with rolling her eyes. "Whatever, let's just go."

"But what about the ship?" asked Kierra.

"What about it? It's too damaged. There's nothing we can do for it without an engineer, spare parts, and at least a few days' time to work. We'll have to find another way off the island."

"But that —"

"Ah, guys, a little help here!" Ezra shouted.

The two girls cut their argument short and they hurried back outside. The monkeys were gliding up the tree trunks towards their branch like swift, silent ghouls. Ezra lobbed fireballs down at them while Jimmy froze the bark, trying to get them to loosen their grip, but the creatures simply redoubled their grasp and kept climbing, nimble fingers punching holes in the ice. Harold cast around for ideas, and his eyes fell on a bunch of huge bananas hanging above them. A small smirk forming across his face, he leapt up towards them, plucked them from the branches, and made his way to the edge, then began to launch them down at the incoming agressors. The bananas splattered against their furry hides with enough force to repel them to the ground, where they fell, unmoving. Then Ezra willed a wall of flame to rise around the base of the tree, keeping the animals away.

"I can keep them from climbing, but not for long," he said. "We need a plan, now."

Helen gave him too a Medipill, then they reconvened and filled the others in on the condition of the ship.

"There's no way it'll fly. We have to find a new way off.

"And what about O'Riley?"

"No sign of him."

"Well what are we supposed to do now?" Ezra wailed.

"Guys?"

It was Jimmy who'd spoken, but though he was right beside them, his voice sounded distant, unfocused.

"What is it?" Harold moved closer to him.

"I don't think we'll have to worry about the finding a new way off much longer."

Before anyone could ask what he meant, he pointed forward. They followed his finger and saw, through the thicket of branches, the distant yet unmistakable image of the shoreline.

"But that's . . . that's impossible," Helen said. "We're in the middle of the ocean, there's not supposed to be any land anywhere near here!"

And then the strange, deep, foghorn-like bellow rang out again. But this time it was much closer at hand. It was almost as if it was coming from right below them. The ground suddenly shifted, and a great splashing, sloshing sound rose up, as if a giant were bathing in a pond. And all around them, the trees rippled. For a split second, Harold wondered whether the island had suddenly started floating. But his eyes caught something huge and leathery-looking in front of them, rising slowly into the air, water pouring off its surface. Then he realized what was happening, and it made even less sense.

"No way," Jimmy whispered.

He made a long, complicated hand movement, pulling air in around them like a funnel, and lifted them upwards. As they rose, the island fell away. And their new point of view gave way to the most ridiculous answer to their question.

There had been no island in the first place. They had been standing atop the thickly wooded, jewel-encrusted shell of a gigantic sea turtle, which had risen to its full height, water coursing off its great body like a waterfall.

"Well," Ezra said, in a voice of surprising calmness, "I think we found our Gargantuan."