They put four of the unbroken jars in the burlap sack, in case they might be able to use them. Stanley carried the sack. Zero held the shovel.
“I should warn you,” Stanley said. “I’m not exactly the luckiest guy in the world.”
Zero wasn’t worried. “When you spend your whole life living in a hole,” he said, “the only way you can go is up.”
They gave each other the thumbs-up sign, then headed out.
It was the hottest part of the day. Stanley’s empty-empty-empty canteen was still strapped around his neck. He thought back to the water truck, and wished he’d at least stopped and filled his canteen before running off.
They hadn’t gone very far before Zero had another attack. He clutched his stomach as he let himself fall to the ground. Stanley could only wait for it to pass. The sploosh had saved Zero’s life, but it was now destroying him from the inside. He wondered how long it would be before he, too, felt the effects.
He looked at Big Thumb. It didn’t seem any closer than when they first started out.
Zero took a deep breath and managed to sit up. “Can you walk?” Stanley asked him.
“tust give me a second,” Zero said. He took another breath, then, using the shovel, pulled himself back to his feet. He gave Stanley the thumbs-up sign and they continued.
Sometimes Stanley would try to go for a long while without looking at Big Thumb. He’d make a mental snapshot of how it looked, then wait maybe ten minutes before looking at it again, to see if it seemed closer.
It never did. It was like chasing the moon.
And if they ever reached it, he realized, then they’d still have to climb it.
“I wonder who she was,” said Zero. “Who?”
“Mary Lou,” said Zero.
Stanley smiled. “I guess she was once a real person on a real lake.
It’s hard to imagine.”
“I bet she was pretty,” said Zero. “Somebody must have loved her a lot, to name a boat after her.”
“Yeah,” said Stanley. “I bet she looked great in a bathing suit, sitting in the boat while her boyfriend rowed.”
Zero used the shovel as a third leg. Two legs weren’t enough to keep him up. “I got to stop and rest,” he said after a while.
Stanley looked at Big Thumb. It still didn’t look any closer. He was afraid if Zero stopped, he might never get started again. “We’re almost there,” he said.
He wondered which was closer: Camp Green Lake or Big Thumb? “I really have to sit down.”
“tust see if you can go a little—”
Zero collapsed. The shovel stayed up a fraction of a second longer, perfectly balanced on the tip of the blade, then it fell next to him.
Zero knelt, bent over with his head on the ground. Stanley could hear a very low moaning sound coming from him. He looked at the shovel and couldn’t help but think that he might need it to dig a grave. Zero’s last hole.
And who will dig a grave for me? he thought.
But Zero did get up, once again flashing thumbs-up. “Give me some words,” he said weakly.
It took Stanley a few seconds to realize what he meant. Then he smiled and said, “R – u – n.”
Zero sounded it out to himself. “Rr-un, run. Run.” “Good. F – u – n.”
“Fffun.”
The spelling seemed to help Zero. It gave him something to concentrate on besides his pain and weakness.
Sure, here’s a rewritten version:
Stanley found himself distracted as well. The next time he glanced up at Big Thumb, it genuinely seemed closer.
They stopped spelling words when it became too painful to speak. Stanley’s throat was parched. He felt weak and exhausted, yet despite his discomfort, he knew Zero felt much worse. As long as Zero kept moving, Stanley could keep going too.
He hoped, perhaps optimistically, that he hadn’t ingested any harmful bacteria. Zero hadn’t managed to unscrew the lid, so maybe the germs hadn’t gotten in either. Perhaps the bacteria were only in the jars that opened easily, the ones he now carried in his sack.
What frightened Stanley most about dying wasn’t the act itself. He thought he could endure the pain; it couldn’t be much worse than what he felt now. In fact, at the moment of death, he might be too weak to feel pain. Death might even be a relief. What troubled him most was the thought of his parents not knowing what happened to him, whether he was dead or alive. He dreaded imagining his mother and father living day after day, month after month, clinging to false hope. For him, at least, it would be over. For his parents, the pain would be endless.
He wondered if the Warden would send a search party to find him. It seemed unlikely. She hadn’t sent anyone to look for Zero. But then, no one cared about Zero. They had simply erased his files.
But Stanley had a family. She couldn’t pretend he was never there. He wondered what she would tell them. And when?
“What do you think’s up there?” Zero asked.
Stanley looked to the top of Big Thumb. “Oh, probably an Italian restaurant,” he said.
Zero managed to laugh.
“I think I’ll get a pepperoni pizza and a large root beer,” said Stanley.
“I want an ice cream sundae,” said Zero. “With nuts and whipped cream, and bananas, and hot fudge.”
The sun was almost directly in front of them. The thumb pointed up toward it.
They came to the end of the lake. Huge white stone cliffs rose up before them.
Unlike the eastern shore, where Camp Green Lake was situated, the western shore did not slope down gradually. It was as if they had been walking across the flat bottom of a giant frying pan, and now they had to somehow climb up out of it.
They could no longer see Big Thumb. The cliffs blocked their view. The cliffs also blocked out the sun.
Zero groaned and clutched his stomach, but he remained standing. “I’m all right,” he whispered.
Stanley saw a rut, about a foot wide and six inches deep, running down a cliff. On either side of the rut were a series of ledges. “Let’s try there,” he said.
It looked to be about a fifty-foot climb, straight up.
Stanley still managed to hold the sack of jars in his left hand as he slowly moved up, from ledge to ledge, crisscrossing the rut. At times he had to use the side of the rut for support, in order to make it to the next ledge.
Zero stayed with him, somehow. His frail body trembled terribly as he climbed the stone wall.
Some of the ledges were wide enough to sit on. Others stuck out no more than a few inches—just enough for a quick step. Stanley stopped about two-thirds of the way up, on a fairly wide ledge. Zero came up alongside him.
“You okay?” Stanley asked.
Zero gave the thumbs-up sign. Stanley did the same.
He looked above him. He wasn’t sure how he’d get to the next ledge. It was three or four feet above his head, and he didn’t see any
footholds. He was afraid to look down.
“Give me a boost,” said Zero. “Then I’ll pull you up with the shovel.”
“You won’t be able to pull me up,” said Stanley. “Yes, I will,” said Zero.
Stanley cupped his hands together, and Zero stepped on his interwoven fingers. He was able to lift Zero high enough for him to grab the protruding slab of rock. Stanley continued to help him from below as Zero pulled himself onto the ledge.
While Zero was getting himself situated up there, Stanley attached the sack to the shovel by poking a hole through the burlap. He held it up to Zero.
Zero first grabbed hold of the sack, then the shovel. He set the shovel so that half the blade was supported by the rock slab. The wooden shaft hung down toward Stanley. “Okay,” he said.
Stanley doubted this would work. It was one thing for him to lift Zero, who was half his weight. It was quite another for Zero to try to pull him up.
Stanley grabbed hold of the shovel as he climbed up the rock wall, using the sides of the rut to help support him. His hands moved one over the other, up the shaft of the shovel.
He felt Zero’s hand clasp his wrist.
He let go of the shaft with one hand and grabbed the top of the ledge.
He gathered his strength and for a brief second seemed to defy gravity as he took a quick step up the wall and, with Zero’s help, pulled himself the rest of the way over the ledge.
He caught his breath. There was no way he could have done that a few months ago.
He noticed a large spot of blood on his wrist. It took him a moment to realize that it was Zero’s blood.
Zero had deep gashes in both hands. He had held on to the metal blade of the shovel, keeping it in place, as Stanley climbed.
Zero brought his hands to his mouth and sucked up his blood.
One of the glass jars had broken in the sack. They decided to save the pieces. They might need to make a knife or something.
They rested briefly, then continued on up. It was a fairly easy climb the rest of the way.
When they reached flat ground, Stanley looked up to see the sun, a fiery ball balancing on top of Big Thumb. God was twirling a basketball.
Soon they were walking in the long thin shadow of the thumb.
