Holes (Holes 1)

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.

37

“We’re almost there,” said Stanley. He could see the base of the mountain.

Now that they really were almost there, it scared him. Big Thumb was his only hope. If there was no water, no refuge, then they’d have nothing, not even hope.

There was no exact place where the flat land stopped and the mountain began. The ground got steeper and steeper, and then there was no doubt that they were heading up the mountain.

Stanley could no longer see Big Thumb. The slope of the mountain was in the way.

It became too steep to go straight up. Instead they zigzagged back and forth, increasing their altitude by small increments every time they changed directions.

Patches of weeds dotted the mountainside. They walked from one patch to another, using the weeds as footholds. As they got higher, the weeds got thicker. Many had thorns, and they had to be careful walking through them.

Stanley would have liked to stop and rest, but he was afraid they’d never get started again. As long as Zero could keep going, he could keep going, too. Besides, he knew they didn’t have much daylight left.

As the sky darkened, bugs began appearing above the weed patches. A swarm of gnats hovered around them, attracted by their sweat. Neither Stanley nor Zero had the strength to try to swat at them.

“How are you doing?” Stanley asked.

Zero pointed thumbs up. Then he said, “If a gnat lands on me, it will knock me over.”

Stanley gave him some more words. “B – u – g – s,” he spelled.

Zero concentrated hard, then said, “Boogs.” Stanley laughed.

A wide smile spread across Zero’s sick and weary face as well. “Bugs,” he said.

“Good,” said Stanley. “Remember, it’s a short ‘u’ if there’s no ‘e’ at the end. “Okay, here’s a hard one. How about, l – u – n – c – h?”

“Luh—Luh-un—” Suddenly, Zero made a horrible, wrenching noise as he doubled over and grabbed his stomach. His frail body shook violently, and he threw up, emptying his stomach of the sploosh.

He leaned on his knees and took several deep breaths. Then he straightened up and continued going.

The swarm of gnats stayed behind, preferring the contents of Zero’s stomach to the sweat on the boys’ faces.

Stanley didn’t give him any more words, thinking that he needed to save his strength. But about ten or fifteen minutes later, Zero said, “Lunch.”

As they climbed higher, the patches of weeds grew thicker, and they had to be careful not to get their feet tangled in thorny vines. Stanley suddenly realized something. There hadn’t been any weeds on the lake.

“Weeds and bugs,” he said. “There’s got to be water around somewhere. We must be getting close.”

A wide clown-like smile spread across Zero’s face. He flashed the thumbs-up sign, then fell.

He didn’t get up. Stanley bent over him. “C’mon, Zero,” he urged. “We’re getting close. C’mon, Hector. Weeds and bugs. Weeds and boogs.”

Stanley shook him. “I’ve already ordered your hot fudge sundae,” he said. “They’re making it right now.”