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Zero said nothing.
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Stanley took hold of Zero’s forearms and pulled him upright. Then he stooped down and let Zero fall over his right shoulder. He stood up, lifting Zero’s worn-out body off the ground.
He left the shovel and sack of jars behind as he continued up the mountain. Zero’s legs dangled in front of him.
Stanley couldn’t see his feet, which made it difficult to walk through the tangled patches of weeds and vines. He concentrated on one step at a time, carefully raising and setting down each foot. He thought only about each step, and not the impossible task that lay before him.
Higher and higher he climbed. His strength came from somewhere deep inside himself and also seemed to come from the outside as well. After focusing on Big Thumb for so long, it was as if the rock had absorbed his energy and now acted like a kind of giant magnet pulling him toward it.
After a while he became aware of a foul odor. At first he thought it came from Zero, but it seemed to be in the air, hanging heavy all around him.
He also noticed that the ground wasn’t as steep anymore. As the ground flattened, a huge stone precipice rose up ahead of him, just barely visible in the moonlight. It seemed to grow bigger with each step he took.
It no longer resembled a thumb.
And he knew he’d never be able to climb it.
Around him, the smell became stronger. It was the bitter smell of despair.
Even if he could somehow climb Big Thumb, he knew he wouldn’t find water. How could there be water at the top of a giant rock? The weeds and bugs survived only by an occasional rainstorm, like the one he had seen from camp.
Still, he continued toward it. If nothing else, he wanted to at least reach the Thumb.
He never made it.
His feet slipped out from under him. Zero’s head knocked against the back of his shoulder as he fell and tumbled into a small muddy gully.
As he lay face down in the muddy ditch, he didn’t know if he’d ever get up again. He didn’t know if he’d even try. Had he come all this way just to … You need water to make mud!
He crawled along the gully in the direction that seemed the muddiest. The ground became gloppier. The mud splashed up as he slapped the ground.
Using both hands, he dug a hole in the soggy soil. It was too dark to see, but he thought he could feel a tiny pool of water at the bottom of his hole. He stuck his head in the hole and licked the dirt.
He dug deeper, and as he did so, more water seemed to fill the hole. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it—first with his fingers, then with his tongue.
He dug until he had a hole that was about as deep as his arm was long. There was enough water for him to scoop out with his hands and drop on Zero’s face.
Zero’s eyes remained closed. But his tongue poked out between his lips, searching out the droplets.
Stanley dragged Zero closer to the hole. He dug, then scooped some more water and let it pour out of his hands into Zero’s mouth.
As he continued to widen his hole, his hand came across a smooth, round object. It was too smooth and too round to be a rock.
He wiped the dirt off of it and realized it was an onion.
He bit into it without peeling it. The hot bitter juice burst into his mouth. He could feel it all the way up to his eyes. And when he swallowed, he felt its warmth move down his throat and into his stomach.
He only ate half. He gave the other half to Zero.
“Here, eat this.”
“What is it?” Zero whispered.
“A hot fudge sundae.”
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