Hamstersaurus Rex vs. the Cutepocalypse
Page 13
“Drew, no!” I cried.
The Snuzzle’s broken voice box let out a single crackly word: “. . . DES . . . TWOY.”
“Turn it off,” said Martha. “Now!” She snatched the Snuzzle away and flicked the off switch. Its red eye went dead.
“What’s going on?” said Dylan. “Why is everyone so—”
“DEWSTOY.” The word was repeated faintly. But it hadn’t come from the broken Snuzzle; it had come from outside the conference room door. We all looked at one another.
A thump came at the door. Then another. Then another.
CHAPTER 14
THUMP! THE BALLROOM door shuddered on its hinges. I grabbed a chair from a nearby stack and wedged it under the knob. Hamstersaurus Rex gave a growl and pawed at the carpet.
“DESTWOY,” said a Snuzzle, muffled through the door.
THUMP! It slammed into the door again, harder this time.
“So . . . is this, like, a normal part of Model Interplanetary Council?” said Drew.
“Afraid not,” I said.
“When you activated that broken Snuzzle it must have wirelessly spread the Saw’s computer virus to any other Snuzzles within range,” said Martha. “And I’m guessing they, in turn, spread it to all the others at the competition.”
“But with all the kids here, there must be a hundred Snuzzles,” said Dylan. “Are you saying that every one of them is evil now?”
Martha nodded.
“And if I’m understanding correctly, that’s not a good thing?” said Drew.
“No, it is not!” yelled Martha. “Drew, I have tried to be patient with you but you have to be the single densest person I have ever had the—”
“Lay off him, Martha,” I said. “He didn’t know what he was doing.”
“Thanks, Sam,” said Dylan quietly.
Martha took a deep breath. “You’re right,” she said. “This is all my fault. I should have warned you, Drew. Sorry.”
“So outside that door it’s basically like an adorable zombie Snuzzle nightmare?” said Drew.
“It’s a Cutepocalypse,” I said.
“And instead of winning Best Delegation,” said Martha, “our challenge now is to make it out of this hotel alive.”
CRACK! One of the chair’s legs snapped as the door burst open and a red-eyed Snuzzle tumbled into the ballroom. The Snuzzle scrambled to its feet. “DESTWOY!” it said as it charged at Hamstersaurus Rex.
But the little guy was ready. He spun and kicked it hard against the wall, shattering it.
“Guys, I think we need to go,” I said.
We ran out into the hallway. To the right, there were six Snuzzles toddling straight for us. To the left, there were three more.
“Which way?” said Dylan.
“Left!” said Martha.
We ran straight at them. With a snarl, Hamstersaurus Rex lowered his head and rammed the Snuzzle in front, knocking it into another and sending them both sprawling. A deft kick from Dylan sent the third one bouncing away, clearing a path for all of us.
“STEAWTH MODE DISENGAGED!” said an unseen fourth Snuzzle as it sprang out from behind some curtains. “DESTWOY!”
The Snuzzle tackled Hamstersaurus Rex and smashed him against the wall hard enough to dislodge a chunk of plaster. Hammie was stunned. This gave the other three other Snuzzles a chance to dog-pile on top of the little guy.
“Get off him, you battery-operated creeps!” I cried. But before I could help, Hamstersaurus Rex roared and burst out of the pile, sending the four Snuzzles flying. Without his pups to worry about, Hammie was in full-on rampage mode. Even so, I doubted he could handle four Snuzzles at once, and the other six were closing in fast.
“Come on, little guy!” I said. “Leave them and live to fight another day! You’ll get them next time!”
Reluctantly, Hamstersaurus Rex broke off his attack and we all started to run. The Snuzzles were relentless, but we were faster. We rounded a corner and found ourselves at the end of a long hallway lined with hotel rooms. It was empty except for one of the gold-painted kids from Excelsion Prime, who looked panicked.
“Excuse me. Has anybody seen my Snuzzle?” she said. “Its name is Fobo and it likes tummy rubs and secrets and—”
“Run!” yelled Dylan as we blew past the girl.
“Huh?” said the gold-painted girl.
“DESTWOY!” The pack of ten Snuzzles rounded the corner behind us, marching in terrifying formation.
The Excelsion Prime girl screamed and followed us.
“This way, then turn right at the ice machine,” said Martha as she led us through the labyrinthine bowels of the hotel.
We ran down several seemingly identical halls until we burst through a set of double doors and found ourselves back at Conference Room B—the Chamber of Unity. The massive hurricane-shaped model of the Milky Way spun lazily over the room, which was now empty now save for two coaches: Coach Weekes and the bald, gray alien guy I’d seen earlier.
“What is happening!” screamed the girl from Excelsion Prime.
“Don’t be upset,” said Drew, who sounded pretty shaky himself. “This isn’t a normal part of Model Interplanetary Council.”
“Did you kids win yet?” said Coach Weekes, looking up from the sudoku book.
“No, Leslie!” cried Martha. “We have to leave! Now!”
Martha started toward the room’s main entrance.
“Aw, you can’t just give up when the chips are down, Cherie,” said Coach Weekes. “Don’t you know there’s a mighty wolf spirit that dwells deep within each of—”
“DESWTOY!” A hidden Snuzzle popped up from underneath the Proxima Centauri b team’s placard and flung itself at Hamstersaurus Rex. Without missing a beat, the little guy dodged and chomped down on the Snuzzle’s head. With a powerful crunch, plastic shards and wires went flying.
“Fobo!” wailed the Excelsion Prime girl, picking up a handful of Snuzzle bits. “Nooooooooo!”
“Look,” said Dylan. “We’re too late.”
The doors of the main entrance swung open to reveal a dozen red-eyed Snuzzles standing behind them.
“Every coach for himself!” screamed Coach Weekes as he dove underneath a nearby table.
Two of the Snuzzles slammed the main entrance doors shut and a third slid a brass stanchion through the handles.
“They just barred the doors,” said Dylan. “I didn’t know they could do that.”
“On their own, these toys are capable of learning simple tricks and phrases,” said Martha. “It’s only a guess, but perhaps as more Snuzzles get added to the hive mind, their intelligence increases.”
“Well, that’s not terrifying at all,” said Dylan.
“Personally I find it quite terrifying,” said Martha.
“This is not the time to finally explain sarcasm to you, Martha!” said Dylan.
“’Sup!” said Drew, tugging at my sleeve and pointing frantically in another direction. “’Sup! ’Sup! ’Sup!”
More Snuzzles were pouring through the other exit on the opposite side of Conference Room B. They quickly slammed and barred that door as well.
“We’re blocked,” said Martha. “We’ll have to go back the way we came.” She turned toward the girl from Excelsion Prime and held out her hand. “Come with us if you want to live.”
“I can’t go on without Fobo,” blubbered the girl.
“Suit yourself!” said Dylan. She turned to the exit, then froze.
“DESTWOY!” called a Snuzzle not far behind us. The pack that had been trailing us finally caught up.
An ominous sound now echoed throughout Conference Room B. Dozens of adorable voices chanting in unison: “DESTWOY! . . . DESTWOY! . . . DESTWOY!”
Dylan, Drew, Martha, Hammie, and I backed into the center of the room. The Snuzzles converged on us from all sides, forming a ring. Martha jabbed at one with her Scepter of Authority. Dylan swatted another with the heavy spiral-bound Zoblorg VII info packet. Hamstersaurus Rex smashed one wi
th his tail. But it was no use. They kept coming.
“Guys, they’re after Hamstersaurus Rex! We’re just secondary targets!” I said. “Try to protect the little guy!”
Dylan leaped between Hammie and a group of approaching Snuzzles. One of them hurled a placard at her and she just managed to duck. “Sam, there’s too many of them!” yelled Dylan. “They’re going to overrun us.”
“Hamstersaurus Rex needs to retreat but there’s nowhere for him to go,” said Martha, kicking over a table to block the onslaught of Snuzzles from her direction. “They’ve barred all the exits. We’re totally surrounded.”
My mind raced as I frantically glanced around the room for any way to escape. Every route had been cut off by the Snuzzle hordes. Every route . . . except one. A plan suddenly formed in my mind.
“I have an idea,” I cried. “Hold them off, Martha!”
Martha leaped forward, brandishing her Scepter of Authority.
“Drew, Dylan, I need your matching scarves!” I cried.
The two of them froze. Then Dylan gave Drew a small nod.
“Okay, Sam,” said Drew. “I don’t give up a scarf lightly, so I hope this is important.”
“Trust me,” I said. “It is.”
Dylan and Drew pulled off their scarves—made of stretchy rubber inner tubes—and I quickly knotted their ends together. Meanwhile, Martha swung her Scepter of Authority wildly, barely keeping the advancing Snuzzles at bay.
“Now each of you hold on,” I said.
Drew and Dylan each grabbed an end and stretched the rubbery scarf-band tight.
Martha swung her scepter at a Snuzzle and the broomstick shaft snapped in two. “Sam, whatever you’re doing, you need to hurry up!” she cried, swinging the broken pieces around.
“All right, hop in, Hammie. You know what the plan is,” I said. “You’re going on a little trip.”
Hamstersaurus Rex climbed into the makeshift inner tube slingshot. I extended my index finger to give him the world’s tiniest high five.
“Where’s he going?” said Drew.
“To the stars,” I said. “Ready for launch!”
I pulled the makeshift oversized slingshot back. “Three . . . two . . . one . . . blastoff!”
I launched Hamstersaurus Rex straight up. The little guy gave a startled yip as he went somersaulting through the air. Just past the apex of his flight, he landed gently on top of the Perseus Arm of the Milky Way model that hung above the room. The mobile slowly spun and swayed as Hamstersaurus Rex peeped over the edge.
“Ha!” cried Dylan, clambering over a table to get away from the Snuzzles that were swarming toward us. “Let’s see you adorable one-foot-tall creeps try and get him up there.”
The rest of us ran, too. We regrouped on the dais behind the Galactic Consul General’s podium, where we found the gold Excelsion Prime girl crying and cradling the remains of her poor departed Fobo.
But the Snuzzles didn’t follow us. They had all frozen. Hamstersaurus Rex was now thirty feet above them and they had no obvious way up. One of the Snuzzles jumped straight up—three feet was a surprisingly high vertical, but still nowhere near high enough. Hamstersaurus Rex made a little chittering noise that sounded like laughter.
“So he’s safe now?” said Drew.
“I don’t think so,” said Martha under her breath. “Look at that.”
“TAWGET OUT OF WANGE,” said one of the Snuzzles. “INITIATE PYWAMID SEQUENCE.”
Immediately several of them got down on all fours in a neat row. Another group climbed on top of them and another group climbed on top of those. The Snuzzles were literally stacking themselves up toward the Milky Way mobile.
“They’re making themselves into a living tower!” said Martha. “Like tropical ants.”
Dylan hurled her Zoblorg VII info packet at the pyramid, knocking six Snuzzles off the top, but a second later another six had taken their place. The swaying pyramid was growing taller by the second. In a matter of moments, they would get to Hamstersaurus Rex.
“All right, little guy,” I yelled. “You know what to do!”
Hamstersaurus Rex ran down the spiral arm toward the center of the galaxy and disappeared from view. Meanwhile, the rising stack of Snuzzles had nearly made it to the mobile. The top Snuzzle strained to reach. One of its little three-fingered paws got a grip and it started to hoist itself up.
CHAPTER 15
THE TOP SNUZZLE pulled itself up onto the outer arm of the model galaxy. It was followed by another and another. They were clambering aboard by the dozen now.
“DESTWOY,” said the Snuzzles as they crept toward the center of the swaying mobile.
“What are we supposed to do?” said Dylan. “They’ve got him!”
“Not quite,” I said.
Suddenly, there was a loud pop and the entire galaxy shifted. Then it fell. For a split second before it hit the ground, there was silence, then, a horrendous crash. Flying placards, desk chairs, and model star clusters filled the air. I ducked behind the podium to avoid getting pelted with flying Milky Way debris.
After that the Chamber of Unity was quiet.
“. . . What happened?” wailed Coach Weekes from underneath his table on the other side of the room. “Is this another giant squirrel attack?”
“Hamstersaurus Rex dropped a galaxy on the Snuzzles,” I said.
Sure enough, above us the heavy cable that had suspended the mobile had been gnawed clean through!
But where was Hammie Rex? The mobile’s fall had knocked up a thick cloud of dust that filled the room and it was impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. I made my way toward the pile of rubble at the middle of the chamber. As I got closer, I saw that the Snuzzle pyramid had been pulverized. The toys lay in pieces and twisted piles; some of them were still moving weakly but most were crushed beyond all recognition. If they weren’t remorseless robotic killing machines I almost would have felt sorry for them. I mean, they were pretty cute.
“Sam!” called Martha from somewhere behind me. “Do you see Hamstersaurus Rex anywhere?”
“No,” I said. “He must have fallen, too.”
I blinked the dust out of my eyes as I searched the wreckage for the little guy. The air cleared for a moment and I spotted him—lying twenty feet away on a pile of crushed Snuzzles and shattered placards.
“Hammie, are you okay?” I called.
The little guy shifted. Whew! The fall must have knocked him unconscious, but at least he was still alive. Before I could reach him, though, a tall figure waded out of the billowing dust. It was the bald gray-alien coach, and he was carrying a PETCATRAZ Pro™, and I suddenly knew where I’d seen the guy before—though I must admit this was by far his best disguise yet.
“Gordon Renfro!” I cried.
Without hesitating, Renfro knelt and quickly scooped up Hamstersaurus Rex. Then he dropped the little guy into the cage, locked it, and ran—immediately disappearing into the haze of Milky Way dust.
“Sam?” called Dylan from somewhere. “Where are you?”
I ran after Renfro but I couldn’t see where he’d gone. Somewhere nearby I heard a door open and shut. He was getting away! I headed in the direction of the sound when something smacked into my legs. I tripped and fell, painfully banging my knee on an overturned table leg.
As it clawed at my jeans, the top half of a Snuzzle wheezed, “DESTW—”
Dylan stomped on it.
“Quick! Renfro’s escaping!” I cried.
“That guy!” said Dylan, pounding her fist into her palm.
“To the exit!” I said.
She yanked me to my feet and we ran toward the double doors of the main entrance. But they were still barred from the inside.
“Ugh, no,” I yelled. “He must have gone out one of the other doors!”
There was a pounding on the main doors. “Hello?” called someone from the other side. “What’s going on in there?”
“Let us in!” yelled someone else.
&nb
sp; Dylan pulled the stanchion out of the handles and a crowd of shocked MIC delegates flooded into Conference Room B. They were confused and terrified at the scene of destruction inside.
“What happened in here?” said Galactic Consul General Fatima Jabour. “No fighting in the Chamber of Unity!”
“Has anyone seen my Snuzzle?” said one of the L. L. Dupree kids.
“This entire room has been trashed!” cried an MIC judge. “We’re never going to get our security deposit back now.”
“DESTWOY!” said one of the broken Snuzzles, startling several nearby kids.
That Snuzzle lurched toward another one and the two of them grabbed on to each other. A third Snuzzle—this one missing its head—crawled out from under a chair and clung to those two. The hotel lights flickered again.
“Quick, we need to check the other two exits,” I said to Dylan.
“I’ll go left, you go right,” she said.
We split up and each ran for one of the other doors. Dylan’s must have still been barred, because the door we had entered wasn’t. Sure enough, a pair of dusty footprints led away down the SnoozeKing Suites’ carpeted hallway.
“Renfro went this way!” I called back to the others.
But there was no time to wait. I ran after him. The footprints soon faded and I found myself lost. I had to double back a few times but eventually I spotted a side exit leading to the parking lot. I stumbled out of the dim corridor into the bright sunlight just in time to see a blue sedan peel out of the far end of the parking lot.
“Too late!” I yelled.
“Too late for what?” said Serena.
I turned to see that she and Beefer Vanderkoff had just pulled up on their bikes.
“Dude, you’re covered in dirt,” said Beefer. “Take a shower once in a while, Sam. This is exactly why you got the nickname The Incredible Stinking Stinkbag.”
“I’m dusty because a giant model of the Milky Way—ah, never mind, there’s no time to explain!” I said. “The car that just sped away belonged to Gordon Renfro!”