NERDS: National Espionage, Rescue, and Defense Society

by Michael Buckley

  “That is the TA-48 Orbital Jet,” the lunch lady said proudly. “But we call it the School Bus.”

  There was a loud siren wailing from speakers mounted on the wall. A moment later, Jackson could hear a voice beckoning all students to the basement because of a tornado warning.

  “There isn’t a cloud in the sky,” Jackson said.

  “True,” the lunch lady replied. “But getting everyone into a crouched position in the basement distracts them for a while.”

  “Let’s get that roof retracted, people,” Brand shouted, and in no time there was more rumbling, this time from above. Jackson saw the gymnasium roof spreading apart, revealing the blue sky.

  Ms. Holiday ushered the children up a small flight of stairs to the rocket’s door. “Come along. We have to get you on board.”

  “On board!” Jackson exclaimed. “I can’t fly in a rocket.”

  Heathcliff, Duncan, Matilda, Ruby, and Flinch eyed him with disgust.

  “It’s always about you,” Ruby said as the rest of the team entered the hull of the ship. Jackson reluctantly followed. Brand and Holiday brought up the rear.

  Duncan rubbed his hands together eagerly as he strapped himself into one of eight leather seats. “I love missions!”

  “Do I get to blow something up?” Matilda asked.

  “That remains to be seen,” Brand replied, helping the librarian into her seat and then taking his own.

  A group of workers brought in six stuffed backpacks. Ms. Holiday smiled. “Oh, good, do they have everything?”

  One of the workers nodded. “Everything that was on your list.”

  “You can put those in the storage compartment,” Ms. Holiday said. The men opened a panel at the front of the jet and shoved the packs inside. A moment later the men were gone. No sooner had they left than the lunch lady climbed aboard.

  “You ready to get this bird in the air?” she asked.

  Brand nodded.

  “She’s the pilot? That woman can’t make meat loaf. How is she going to fly a rocket?”

  The lunch lady reached up and snatched her dull brown hair off her head. Jackson quickly realized she had been wearing a wig and had a clean-shaven bald head underneath. Then it dawned on him that the lunch lady wasn’t a lady at all.

  “You don’t like my meat loaf, kid?” the lunch lady grunted. “I’m hurt.”

  “Buckle up,” Ms. Holiday said.

  Jackson considered jumping up and rushing out the open door while he still had a chance. Unfortunately, one of the workers slammed it shut. There was a loud roar and a sudden burst of speed, which caused Jackson to sink into his seat.

  “Blast off.” Flinch cried. Jackson was horrified. He could feel the skin on his face clinging to his skull as it was pulled backward by the g-force, and he imagined the whole machine exploding. He turned to his window only to see the ship shoot out of the top of the school and rise higher and higher in the sky, up into the blackness of space. If he craned his neck, he could see the entire planet below. That’s when Jackson screamed.

  And screamed …

  … and screamed.

  “Oh boy,” Heathcliff said, rolling his eyes. “I think we have a barfer on our hands.”

  YOU’RE BACK!

  UNBELIEVABLE. WELL,

  TO BE HONEST, YOU’RE

  DOING VERY WELL. OUR

  DNA EXAMINATIONS HAVE

  REVEALED YOU HAVE

  A LOT OF NERDINESS

  RUNNING THROUGH

  YOUR BLOOD. IN FACT,

  SENSORS REVEAL THAT

  YOU ARE PRACTICALLY 90

  PERCENT NERD. THAT’S

  A LOT OF NERD. STILL,

  THE BIG SHOTS AREN’T

  COMPLETELY CONVINCED.

  THEY WANT MORE INFORMATION, SO…

  TO GRANT ACCESS TO

  LEVEL 6, I NEED YOU

  TO RUB YOUR ARMPIT

  ON THE SENSOR.

  REALLY, RUB YOUR

  PIT ON THE SENSOR.

  ACCESS DENIED!

  HMMMM,

  SENSOR MALFUNCTION.

  TRY THE OTHER PIT.

  ACCESS GRANTED.

  (I NEED A SHOWER.)

  The halls of the Milwaukee Mental Hospital were a creepy place late at night. They were dim, with ominous shadows that slithered about in the moonlight. The rooms that lined the hallway were filled with the criminally insane—certifiable lunatics responsible for mayhem, murder, and quite a number of maimings. The patients were the incorrigiblest of the incorrigible, and if one were to break out of his room, there would be no predicting what kind of chaos would follow. The possibilities unnerved Denny Parsons. Sure, he was a trained security guard. He had a badge. He had a nightstick. But crazy people were crazy people and it didn’t help that his partner, Tommy Newton, was a complete idiot.

  “Look at this guy!” Tommy shouted as he peered through a window in one of the doors. “This guy is crazy.”

  “That’s why they call this a mental hospital,” Denny said.

  “I know that,” Tommy snapped. “But this one is real crazy. He’s in there flapping his arms like a duck. Hey, man, you ain’t no duck! You can’t fly!”

  Denny wondered if Tommy would be missed if he were to somehow find himself locked in one of the rooms—maybe one of the soundproof ones with padded walls.

  “Check this loony tune out,” Tommy said as he moved to another room. “He’s in there talking to himself. Hey! Ain’t nobody in there talking to you! I tell you, Denny, they should just let me sit down with some of these folks. I’d get their heads on straight.”

  “Perhaps you should suggest that to the doctors,” Denny muttered as he aimed his flashlight farther down the hall. “Leave him be, Tommy. We’ve got a lot of halls to patrol.”

  Suddenly, Denny heard a painful groan. When he turned around, Tommy was curled up in a ball on the floor, and a young woman, no … a girl, dressed entirely in black, was standing over him. Denny didn’t know whether to run for help or give the attacker a hug.

  “I took a chance,” the girl said. “I’m hoping you’re the smart one.”

  “Yes, that would be right,” Denny said.

  “Tell me about Felix Jigsaw,” she said.

  “The Jigsaw Puzzle King?” Denny said.

  “The what?”

  “The Jigsaw Puzzle King,” the guard said. “Don’t you read the papers?”

  “I’ve been a little busy being twelve years old,” she replied.

  “Felix Jigsaw was a brilliant scientist, or so I read. He specialized in tectonic plate theory, you know, the movement of continents. He was famous for his work on the Pangaea theory.”

  “Huh?”

  “He dedicated his life to proving that all the continents had once been one big island, which broke into pieces. He was also famous for being a star in the competitive jigsaw puzzle circuit. Some called him the Tiger Woods of jigsaw puzzles, but if you ask me it was the puzzles that drove him crazy. The moment he was locked up in here it was all puzzles, day and night. He was obsessed. Still, he wasn’t a criminal so they couldn’t keep him. Someone signed him out and that was the last I saw of him.”

  “They let him go? Does that mean he was cured?”

  Denny chuckled. “You don’t get cured of what Jigsaw has. No, someone agreed to look after him.”

  “Who?”

  Denny led her to a dark office. He tapped a few keys into a computer and pulled up a file. Scrolling down, he found what he was looking for. “Here, this is who signed him out. A guy named Simon. Can’t tell you if that’s his first or last name.”

  The Hyena frowned.

  “Why are you so curious about this nutcase?” Denny asked.

  “I work for him,” she said.

  Jackson was curled in a ball on the floor of the rocket breathing in and out into a paper sack. Ms. Holiday knelt over him, rubbing his back and squeezing his hand to comfort him. “Just relax, Jackson.”

  “Relax?” Jackson cried through his hyperve
ntilation. “I’m in outer space. I signed up to be a spy, not an astronaut.”

  “How pathetic,” Heathcliff said.

  “Yeah, maybe we should call him Wheezer,” Matilda added.

  “Be nice,” Ms. Holiday scolded.

  “Jackson, this is the most efficient method of transport,” Mr. Brand explained.

  “He’s right,” Duncan said. “Instead of flying across the globe for hours, the School Bus flies up into the stratosphere and then back down where we want. It shortens a flight from several hours to no more than thirty minutes, allowing us to get back to school before the end of the day.”

  “If the new guy’s nervous breakdown is over, perhaps we should get into our gear,” Ruby said.

  The children snatched the packs from the front of the rocket. Jackson found the one with his name on it, opened it up, and pulled out a heavy wool shirt and pants, a thick lamb’s wool coat, and a small cotton hat.

  “Uh, this is just a bunch of clothing. Where’s the secret agent stuff? Where’s the exploding bow tie and the camera pen?”

  “Everyone’s pack is assembled for their specific needs,” Ms. Holiday said.

  “How am I going to do spy stuff with all this?” he cried.

  “You’re not,” Brand said. “You’re observing on this mission.”

  “What?” Jackson cried. He felt the rocket turn back toward Earth, and his belly did a flip. “I’ve been training for weeks. I’m ready.”

  “How many people think Braceface is ready?” Ruby said to the team. None of them raised their hands.

  “The desert is sparsely inhabited, and we don’t expect you’ll meet many locals,” Ms. Holiday said. “But if you do, they will probably be of two types—sheepherders or armed tribal fighters who won’t take kindly to trespassers. Do your best to avoid them.”

  “Once you get into the city, you’ll pose as street kids peddling wares in the market,” Agent Brand said. “Each of you has been briefed on your specific tasks once you’ve found Dr. Badawi’s lab.”

  “Briefed? I wasn’t briefed.” Jackson said.

  Brand ignored him. “Ms. Holiday, what can you tell us about the good Dr. Badawi?”

  “Dr. Badawi is married to American diplomat Omar Badawi, who is currently the United States ambassador to Egypt. Her lab is in a bustling tourist corridor of Cairo called the Spice Market. To get there, you’re going to travel through the Sahara desert. The sun will be brutal, and the clothes I packed you will protect you from burning, but will also keep you warm at night, in case this mission takes longer than expected. Pufferfish, Wheezer, you’ll find extra sets of clothing in your packs, as we discussed.”

  “Got ’em,” Wheezer said.

  “Flinch, I’ve packed a dozen marshmallow pies and a case of juice boxes, if you need them.”

  Flinch licked his lips. “You are a beautiful person, Ms. Holiday.”

  “What’s this?” Matilda said as she pulled a chocolate chip cookie out of her pack.

  “Oh, that’s from me,” Ms. Holiday said. “I wanted to give you all a good-luck treat.”

  The herd stared at her in disbelief—they clearly weren’t used to being coddled, and they weren’t sure they liked it. But then they shrugged and started dressing for their mission. Jackson found his sheepherder outfit very scratchy. “You can spend ten billion on my superbraces, but you don’t have a couple bucks for fabric softener?” he muttered.

  Once everyone was dressed, they returned to their seats and locked their safety belts. Jackson had been on planes, and always found putting on his seat belt to be tedious and silly. But the descent in the School Bus changed his mind forever. It was even more terrifying than the takeoff, like a free fall right into the ground, until the lunch lady leveled the ship off above the desert floor.

  “We’re over the drop,” the pilot grunted.

  “The drop?” Jackson asked.

  Suddenly, Brand was out of his seat and opening the hatch at the front of the jet. The other kids followed him, each snatching a parachute from a pile stacked nearby.

  “No one told me we were jumping out of a rocket!” Jackson shouted. “I’ve never done this before.”

  “It’s pretty easy,” Matilda said. “All you have to do is fall.”

  A moment later, she jumped out and was gone.

  Heathcliff was next, then Ruby.

  “Your ride will be along soon,” Brand shouted over the wind.

  Ruby nodded as she jumped outside.

  Flinch raced to the front, snatched a pack, and leaped outside without even putting it on his back.

  Jackson screamed, sure he had just witnessed the boy’s last moments alive, but Duncan assured him Flinch was OK. “He does that every time. He’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie.”

  “He’s a bit of a lunatic,” Jackson mumbled.

  “You and I are going together,” Duncan said. He ran his hands up and down Jackson’s back. When Jackson craned his neck he noticed a sticky film trail where the boy’s hands had been. Then Duncan hugged him from behind. The two boys were stuck tight.

  Ms. Holiday helped the chubby spy into his parachute while Jackson squirmed for his freedom.

  “You realize we are all minors,” Jackson said. “You’re letting six children jump out of a plane, into the desert, in a foreign country, alone.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Duncan said to Jackson. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  “You ate fourteen glue sticks in art class once. I don’t think you’re the best one to protect me,” Jackson said.

  “Find the doctor and bring her back,” Brand said. “Jackson, Ruby is your team leader and unless she directs you otherwise, your job on this mission is to observe.”

  “Wait, maybe I should stay in the rocket!” Jackson cried, but he never finished his sentence. Duncan dragged him through the open door. Jackson’s screams were drowned out by the wind, but he could still hear them inside his head as the ground raced toward them.

  “Isn’t it beautiful up here?” Duncan shouted.

  Jackson just kept on screaming. Eventually, he felt Duncan pull a cord. There was a loud pop, and then an incredible flapping sound as the parachute unfolded above them. When it unfurled, the boys were jerked roughly upward. Then they began to slowly descend.

  “I love this part,” Duncan said. “It’s so peaceful.”

  The boys landed on the edge of a dune and tumbled face-first into the sand. As they rolled, the parachute wrapped around them so that neither could move a muscle. Jackson now knew what it must feel like to be a burrito.

  As they tried to untangle themselves, the rest of the team sprang into action. They buried their parachutes, while Ruby used binoculars to scan the valley. “Here comes our ride,” she said.

  Jackson turned his head in the direction Ruby was looking. He saw a lone figure walking toward them with six camels in tow.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Jackson said. “We’re riding camels to Cairo?”

  “Aaagha bezzzeter chuck,” Flinch said.

  “Huh?”

  The hyperactive boy turned the knob on his body harness. “I said ‘camels rule, bro!’”

  Ruby ignored the chatter. “Let’s move, people.”

  “Uh, we’re kind of stuck!” Jackson cried from inside the parachute burrito.

  “No worries,” Duncan said. “Laser watch activate.”

  Duncan’s wristwatch opened and a tiny laser cannon poked out. It targeted the straps of the parachute, and moments later the two boys were free.

  “I didn’t get a laser watch,” Jackson grumbled.

  “I know,” Duncan said with a smile. “It’s only for the good agents.”

  With the camel salesman’s help, Jackson and the others mounted their animals. Once they were safely aboard, the old man smacked Jackson’s camel on the rump, sending him racing into the desert. It turned out riding a camel was like being on a smelly inner tube trapped in white-water rapids. He fell off the furry monster a dozen times, and each time,
the camel reached down and bit him. His teammates just laughed.

  Worse, the sun was broiling. The disguises the librarian had given them protected against its vicious rays, but felt heavy in the heat. Jackson complained, and the others ignored him.

  They had been traveling for a couple of hours when Ruby called for them to take a break. She pointed out a rocky outcropping and led the rest of the team toward it.

  Jackson attempted to dismount, but his camel bucked and kicked, sending him sprawling onto the ground. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as if the beast was giggling at him, just like the rest of his team. He picked himself up and pulled his pack off the camel’s back. Inside he found several bottles of water and Ms. Holiday’s cookie. He decided he needed a treat and took a bite. The cookie was as hard as stone and tasted like vinegar. He wrapped it back up and put it in his shirt pocket. Clearly, Ms. Holiday could not bake.

  “How long do you think we’ll be here?” Jackson asked Ruby. She ignored him. She took a school organizer out of her pack and opened it up. Where folders and rulers should have been, there was a computer monitor and keyboard, as well as a tiny satellite dish spinning in circles.

  “Probably a half hour,” Duncan said. “Ruby likes to get topographic maps and weather before we get into the heat of the mission. It will take a while to link to Benjamin.”

  Jackson laid back and closed his eyes. “I think I’ll take a nap, then.”

  “Do what you want, but don’t expect a bedtime story from me,” Wheezer said.

  When Jackson awoke, the sun was in his eyes, his mouth was dry, and he had a knife across his throat. He looked up and saw the owner of the blade—a dark-skinned man with a long beard and stringy black hair. He wore loose, flowing white pants and a green shirt and had a leather belt lined with shotgun shells. He barked something in a language Jackson didn’t understand. Out of the corner of his eye, Jackson saw more men just like him, all brandishing ugly swords and shouting threats. He didn’t have to be multilingual to know they were angry.