Scrimshaw stood up in Jack’s lap, blocking his view of the road. He clamped his hands around Jack’s throat and tried to throttle him.
Inside Jack, this choking motion caused Jack’s oesophagus to bulge inwards, knocking Igoe’s craft from the ledge. It fell down the dark pit towards the stomach.
Jack pushed Scrimshaw off his lap and veered to avoid a car directly in his path. The Volvo skidded along a beach-side road, then bounced down a set of steps. Inside Jack, Tuck was also bouncing furiously.
The car came to a halt on the beach. Lydia flung Canker against the seat and clambered out, following Jack. Blanchard’s Dodge roared up and parked at the top of the steps.
‘Lydia!’ he called out.
She looked up. Blanchard was wearing sunglasses, and it was a second before she recognized him.
‘C’mon,’ he called. ‘Get in the car!’
She and Jack ran to it and jumped in the back seat. Inside Jack, Igoe’s craft was whirling out of control as it plummeted down the oesophagus. The steering had been damaged and wouldn’t respond. Igoe slipped out of his seat harness, pulled down his face mask, then pressed a button marked EJECT.
The hatch bolts exploded and Igoe was blasted back up the oesophagus at tremendous speed as the damaged craft continued falling towards the stomach.
Within the pod, Tuck was startled to see Igoe’s sonar blip race back on to the screen. Igoe surged into view, hitting the pod with a THUD and holding on.
Through the viewscreen, Tuck saw Igoe peering inside with an expression of pure madness. He pulled off a glove to reveal an industrial drill attachment. It began to whirr loudly. He worked his way towards the pod’s air tanks.
Tuck immediately pulled back on the pod’s control stick. It banked sharply to the left, then to the right. Tuck was trying to shake Igoe off, but he clung tenaciously on, drilling at the tanks.
Then Tuck had an idea.
‘Jack!’ he said. ‘Are you nervous?’
Jack was sitting in the back of Pete Blanchard’s car, having his fevered brow stroked by Lydia as Blanchard drove speedily in the direction of Vectorscope.
‘Actually,’ Jack said, breathing in deeply, ‘I’m feeling pretty calm at the moment, thank you.’
‘No good, Jack! I need stomach acid. Lots of it!’
Jack shook his head. ‘No! Leave me alone! I’ve had enough anxiety for one day!’
‘Jack, it’s urgent!’
‘No!’ Jack insisted. ‘Leave me alone!’
Tuck was about to shout again, but then he thought of a better tactic.
‘Jack,’ he said softly, ‘I don’t want to alarm you, but I saw something funny in here.’
He allowed a pause. Jack said, ‘What do you mean -something funny?’
‘Well, it’s probably benign. A biopsy will tell.’
‘What do you mean? Is it a tumour? My God, how big is it?’
‘You’re asking the wrong guy, Jack. To me, it’s the size of a mountain - ’
‘Oh my God!’
Jack clutched his stomach in panic. Tuck, grinning evilly, immediately put the pod into motion.
‘Attaboy, Jack,’ he called. ‘Keep those stomach acids flowing!’ And then, addressing Igoe, he said, ‘Hang on, buddy - here’s how I spell acid relief.’
The pod plunged down the dark tunnel of the cesophagus towards the now-seething pit of the stomach. Igoe, still clinging on, suddenly began to look alarmed.
The pod’s searchlights revealed the bubbling acidic pool just a second before Tuck splashed straight into it, submerging.
The shell of the pod was of a non-metallic material, as Tuck knew well. It would be quite safe from Jack’s gastric juices. Which was more than could be said for Igoe ...
Through the viewscreen, Tuck could see Jack’s stomach acid boiling around the pod. It was like being in a submarine, caught in a raging sea-storm. The pod bucked and rolled, but Tuck was safely strapped into his seat. Jack’s digestive juices were cloudy, so that Tuck could see nothing of Igoe.
Presently the storm began to subside. Tuck took the pod up out of Jack’s stomach. As it surfaced, he saw Igoe still hanging there - or what was left of him. Igoe’s hand-drill was still sticking into the pod’s surface, but of Igoe himself, nothing remained apart from a skeleton.
‘Hey, Jack,’ Tuck called, ‘you just digested the bad guy!’
There was a dull explosion of sound as Jack burped.
Inside the telephone booth, Scrimshaw was sitting on Canker’s shoulders. He had just managed to reach up and take the receiver off the hook.
‘Dial 911,’ Canker told him.
‘The police?’ said Scrimshaw. ‘Are you crazy? I’m calling my lawyer.’
He took some coins from his pocket and slotted them in. But nothing happened.
‘Dammit!’ he cried. ‘My pocket change is all shrunk! When is this going to wear off, Margaret?’
Canker said nothing, but her expression told him ‘Never’.
‘I’m damned if I’m going to be three foot high for the rest of my life!’ he said defiantly.
‘Look on the bright side, Victor,’ Canker said. ‘You’re no longer a size 44 Extra Fat. Now you can go straight to size 32 children’s.’
Scrimshaw growled like an angry animal. His clawlike hands moved down towards Canker’s neck, but he restrained himself at the last moment.
Pete Blanchard’s car roared into the parking lot at Vectorscope and came screeching to a halt.
‘We made it,’ Blanchard said, propping up his sunglasses on his forehead. ‘With one full minute to spare.’ Jack, Lydia and Blanchard hurried inside to the main lab. Dr Niles and his team of technicians were waiting for them.
‘Fire up the boilers, doc!’ Niles said.
Inside Jack, Tuck had taken the pod into one of Jack’s lungs. The journey had been a slow one, for the pod had been damaged by Igoe’s attack and would no longer move under full power.
‘Jack,’ Tuck said into the radio, ‘you gotta sneeze for me. Can you do it, pal?’
‘Eh?’ said Jack. ‘Sneeze? Why?’
‘Because I don’t have enough air left. The pod’s on reduced power, and I can’t reach your mouth or eyes in time. The human sneeze has been clocked at over one hundred miles per hour. I’m in your lung and my only chance to make it out is for you to sneeze!’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Deadly serious.’
‘Okay . . . but how?’
‘Think allergies'.' Tuck said instantly. ‘Think pollen! Think cat fur! Horse hair! Think fuzzy, itchy, scratchy things floating up your nose and down your throat.’
Jack thought about them, but nothing happened. There wasn’t even the merest tickling in his nostrils. ‘Think house dust!’ Tuck said desperately, ‘Think of tiny mites scurrying through your nasal cavities! Think . . . uh . . . uh . . .’
‘Hair spray!’ Jack shouted.
He began peering frantically around the lab. ‘Somebody!’ he yelled to the technicians. ‘Anybody! Please! I need hair spray! Now! HURRY!’
One of the women technicians produced a can from her purse. Jack took it from her and blasted himself in the face with the aerosol.
Immediately a furious itching began in his nose, while his eyes filled with water.
‘Ah . . . ahhh . . .’ He began.
Inside the pod, Tuck braced himself. He could feel the sneeze coming. The pod began to tremble as Jack’s respiratory system started to convulse.
‘Ahhhhhh - CHOOOOOO!!’
Tuck was flattened in his seat as the pod rocketed up Jack’s trachea at a speed which turned everything outside into a blur. He felt his face being contorted under the stress of the thrust.
Outside, Pete Blanchard was peering closely at Jack through his sunglasses. Suddenly Jack’s sneeze splattered the lenses.
Blanchard stepped back in surprise. Niles snatched the sunglasses off his face, and one of the technicians pulled a magnifying glass from his white coat and peered at
the lenses.
‘I see it!’ he cried. ‘I see the pod!’
‘Quickly!’ Niles said. ‘We need the chip!’
Jack remembered that he had it. He dug deep in his trouser pocket and pulled out his hand scattering the contents of one of the lab benches.
Bits of lint and dust. Pennies. A ticket stub. An aspirin tablet. The torn off strip of a cash receipt from the supermarket. Jack prodded it with his finger. Underneath it was the chip.
Quickly one of the technicians took it and fitted it into the control board with a pair of tweezers. The pod had already been placed inside the chamber and the protective screen had been closed.
Niles hesitated, as if unsure of what button to press.
‘Come on!’ Jack and Lydia shouted in unison.
Niles prodded one of the buttons.
Lights began to flash in the lab. There was a powerful high-pitched whistle which grew rapidly in intensity so that everyone was forced to cover their ears with their hands.
There was a flash of light, and then silence descended. Soon afterwards, the two halves of the protective screen drew back.
The pod sat on the platform, full-sized once more.
Igoe’s skeleton still clung to it, but at that moment it slipped off and clattered to the floor. The pod dripped with gooey biochemical secretions.
Suddenly the hatch door burst open and Tuck poked his head out, gasping for air.
Everybody cheered.
Pete Blanchard was the first to greet Tuck as he stepped out of the pod, grubby and sweat-stained.
‘Told you we’d get you out of there, Tuck!’ Blanchard said.
Tuck merely gave him an ironic smile and walked past him to catch Lydia as she raced forward into his arms.
‘Tuck!’ Lydia cried. ‘I was beginning to think I’d never see you alive again!’
‘Without your help,' he said. I would never have made it.’
He hugged her hard, then, peering over he: shoulder, saw Jack standing there. Gently he set Lydia back on her feet.
Jack came forward, producing Scrimshaw's Cuban cigar and offering it to him.
‘Welcome home, Lieutenant.’
Tuck smiled, put the cigar into his pocket, then gave Jack a big bear hug. Everyone cheered again, and Lydia’s eyes filled up with emotion.
Soon, everyone was clustered around Tuck, slapping him on the back and giving him their congratulations. But presently Tuck struggled free of the crowd and took Lydia aside.
‘We have to talk in private,’ he told her.
She nodded, and he took her into the observation room next door.
‘I never got into space, Lydia,’ Tuck said immediately. ‘I never got to orbit the Earth or walk on the Moon. But I’ve just been places where no man has ever gone before. I’ve done things, seen things, Lydia, that have opened my eyes to a lot of things. To you ... to life .. . to everything. ’
He seemed to run out of steam. Lydia peered hard at him. ‘Tuck, what are you trying to say?’
‘It’s not too late for me, Lydia. I can change. I can be better. I’m a different man already, I promise you.’ He peered through the observation window at Jack, then looked back at her. ‘I’ve known all along. Why couldn’t I just admit it to myself?’
‘Admit what, Tuck?’
‘That I’m in love with you, of course.’
Lydia stared back at him, hardly believing what she had heard. A smile broke out on her lips.
‘Boy . . .’ she said.
‘Let’s get married.’
‘Married?’
‘Don’t you want to?’
Lydia’s smile broadened, and she flung her arms around his neck.
They hugged one another hard, and kissed. Then, through the window, Lydia saw Jack turning away sadly. Breaking the clinch, she rushed into the lab after him. He was heading for the door.
‘Jack,’ she said. ‘Wait . . .’
He turned, and he was smiling, too.
‘Lydia,’ he said, ‘you don’t have to say a word. I’m happy for you and Tuck. I really am. This has been the most exciting twenty-four hours of my life. I’ve been chased, kidnapped, frozen, electrified, amplified and terrorized - and I feel great!'
Chapter 13
From inside the church, an organ played the wedding march. The church doors opened, and out stepped Tuck and Lydia as the guests began to toss rice over their heads.
Among the guests were Dr Niles, Pete Blanchard, Duane Flornoy, Dr Greenbush, Mr Wormwood and Wendy. Jack, dressed in smart tuxedo, had been best man, and neither Tuck nor Lydia had had any objections to him inviting some of his closest acquaintances.
A long limousine awaited the wedding couple outside the church. After a hurried session of photographs and back-slapping, Jack managed to get a moment alone with Lydia and Tuck.
‘Thanks for the cruise tickets, buddy,’ Tuck said to him.
‘Just take good care of Lydia for me,’ he replied.
‘I will. And you take good care of my car.’
Jack nodded. To both Tuck and Lydia, he said, ‘We made one hell of a team, didn’t we?’
‘The best,’ Lydia said. And she reached up to kiss him full on the lips.
A chauffeur approached the limousine with two heavy suitcases. He wore a pair of dark sunglasses, and his peaked cap was pulled down over his eyes. He opened the back of the car and put the suitcases inside.
Tuck and Lydia climbed into the back seat.
‘Nobody noticed my cuff-links,’ Tuck remarked.
Lydia frowned, not understanding, until she saw that they had been made of the two microchips.
‘Tuck,’ she said, grinning. ‘You’re incorrigible.’
At the back of the car, the chauffeur was arranging the suitcases in the trunk. Then, after a swift glance around to ensure that no one was watching him, he opened one of the cases.
Nestled among Lydia’s clothing was Margaret Canker. The chauffeur opened the second case. Scrimshaw was inside, sitting on one of Tuck’s shirts.
‘He has the chips on him,' the chauffeur whispered to the two of them.
‘Good, good!’ said Scrimshaw. ‘Close the lids before anyone sees us!’
‘I can’t breathe in here!’ Canker complained.
‘Shut up, Margaret!’ said Scrimshaw.
The chauffeur snapped the suitcases shut and closed the trunk before climbing into the limousine. Neither Tuck nor Lydia had noticed that he was wearing cowboy boots.
‘Don’t run any red lights,’ Jack told him as he drove off while the guests cheered and waved.
Jack watched the car drive away. Dr Greenbush appeared beside him.
‘Nice wedding,’ Greenbush remarked. ‘Come around to my office next week, Jack. I’d like to run some new tests.’
Wormwood now came up. ‘Since you’re not taking that cruise now, Jack, I sure could use you down at the store on Monday.’
Jack backed away. Then Wendy appeared.
‘I think we should try dating,’ she said to him. ‘Not exclusively, though ... at least not for me.’
Jack was scarcely listening to any of them He had been watching the chauffeur as he climbed into the limousine. There was something funny about him Suddenly Jack realized what.
‘Cowboy boots!’ he cried. ‘That was the Cowboy!’ The other three regarded him with perplexed surprise. Tuck’s Mustang was parked at the kerb close by, and Jack had the keys in his pocket.
‘Doc,’ he said to Greenbush, ‘I’m cured. Mr Wormwood - I quit. Wendy - not a chance!’
Then he raced off, vaulting into the Mustang without even opening the door. He slipped the keys into the ignition, and the engine started with a roar. All of his old fears and uncertainties were gone now. He was determined to take life by the scruff of the neck, to become master of his own destiny. And what better way to start than by going to Tuck and Lydia’s aid right now?
‘Jack Putter to the rescue!’ he yelled as the Mustang shot off down the road in pursuit of
the limousine.
Steven Spielberg's Innerspace Page 11