“Let’s get back to work,” she said impatiently.
She examined the drawing of Indonesia on the Super-Secret Plans. She saw a circle inside a circle inside a circle. She looked closer and saw that each circle was made up of tiny dots. One dot in the center circle wasn’t filled in like all the rest. From there, a line stretched across the umbrella, all the way back to Seattle.
She closed the umbrella. When she started to hand the magnifier to Nipper, he flinched.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not going to hit you. We need it to get home.”
“So, where are we?” he asked.
“Somewhere in Java, Indonesia,” she answered.
She tried to run her fingers through her hair to flatten it, but it was so twisted and knotted that she gave up. The splashing, spraying, upside-down rocket ride had left her with crazy hair. And only one shoe. Samantha pointed at narrow steps along the wall.
“Let’s go find something with circles and dots,” she said. “It’s our slidewalk home.”
Nipper hurried up the stone staircase in front of Samantha. At the top, he pushed aside a metal grate and climbed out onto the street. As he disappeared into the sunlight, Samantha caught a whiff of his cumin-and-chili coating. She thought of the strange clowns again, and how they’d backed away when she stood near the table of spices.
She adjusted her umbrella, followed Nipper up the stairs, and climbed out. She used her left foot—the one with a shoe—to shove the grate back into place.
Immediately, Samantha was hit by a warm, humid breeze. It was much hotter here than in the clammy rocket tunnel. She looked around and realized she stood in a crowded plaza. Two children raced by, playing tag. Backpackers in heavy boots trekked in the other direction. A vendor pushed a cart with sizzling sticks of meat. A dozen people with cameras and phones snapped pictures of themselves, one another, and their surroundings.
A stone mountain towered overhead. At first, she thought it might be a pyramid. Then she noticed that it was covered with sculptures. She saw lions, elephants, monkeys, birds, and trees. There were human figures, too: men and women, kids and babies, warriors, workers, dancers, and kings. Samantha guessed that the ones shown floating in clouds represented gods. Every few feet, stone figures sat nestled in arches along the side of the monument. Columns and intricate carvings covered every surface.
The structure had even more images on it than the Super-Secret Plans.
Samantha shielded her eyes and gazed up. She counted nine levels. Each one swarmed with tourists. Way up at the top level, she saw a huge pointed dome.
More people milled about.
Teenagers in matching shirts took pictures of one another in front of carvings. Parents grabbed at toddlers standing too close to ledges. Couples in shorts and hiking boots sat on steps, thumbing through guidebooks. She scanned the crowd. There was no sign of an annoying spice-covered boy with a bruised face.
“Over here, Sam!”
She turned again. Nipper stepped out from around a corner, smiling and waving.
“I found a sign,” he told her. “We’re in a place called Jagalah Kebersihan.”
“Not you’re not,” said a bearded man with a backpack. “Jagalah kebersihan means ‘Keep clean.’ ”
He sniffed Nipper and frowned.
“Or at least ‘Don’t litter,’ ” he added.
Based on his accent, Samantha thought the man might be a tourist from Sweden or some other Scandinavian country.
The man adjusted his bulky backpack and turned to face the wide stone steps leading to the top.
“I don’t know how anyone could get here without knowing this is Borobudur Temple,” he muttered, and walked away.
Samantha looked at her brother. He smiled and shrugged. He was about to say something else, but she held up a hand to stop him.
“Gedung tertinggi,” she said, and pointed to the temple. “That’s ‘the tallest building’…in Indonesian. It’s definitely the tallest building around here.”
Samantha and Nipper joined the throng of tourists marching up a central staircase. They climbed past a second level, then a third.
As they continued up the temple stairs, Samantha noticed people staring at them. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. When they’d gone to Paris, Florence, and Edfu, they’d blended in with the other tourists. And in any case, everyone was busy looking at the Eiffel Tower or the other attractions, so no one really looked at them. At this moment, blending in was not possible. A boy smeared with spicy brown sludge, and a girl with crazy hair and one shoe, did not blend in.
When they reached the sixth level, Samantha stopped and looked around. The view could not have been more different from the cities in Mali. In every direction, the world was lush and green. Crystal blue lakes dotted the landscape. Tropical trees covered rolling hills. Some looked familiar. Samantha recognized palm trees. Others seemed more like giant flowers than trees. Over the tops of the statues and domes, she could see more forests and, far in the distance, jagged mountains. Steam rose from one of the larger peaks—perhaps an active volcano.
Samantha took out the purple glasses and put them on. Slowly, she panned left and right, examining walls and steps and sculptures.
Nothing turned yellow. Nothing said PSST.
That didn’t surprise her. They weren’t here because of any clues from Uncle Paul. She was using the Super-Secret Plans on her own now, and she was confident that the circles and dots on the umbrella held the path home.
The top three levels of the temple were circular and ringed by large, bell-shaped domes. Each dome stood at least six feet tall.
“Here we go,” said Nipper, peeking through diamond-shaped openings. “I bet we’re looking for something inside one of these bells.”
“Stupa,” said a girl holding a brochure in one hand.
She seemed about the same age as Samantha. She was wearing jeans and a yellow T-shirt. Stenciled on the front of her shirt were the words Tour du Jour.
Nipper frowned at her.
“What did you call me?” he asked.
“You said ‘bells,’ ” she replied. “It’s not a bell. It is called a stupa.”
The girl smiled at Nipper. She unfolded her brochure and held it up for him and Samantha to see. It showed a view of the temple from above. Three rings of dots surrounded the central dome. The words on the page were in French, but an arrow pointing to one of the dots said “stupa.”
The girl lowered the brochure and turned to Samantha. She looked at her, up and down. She studied the red umbrella, then looked over her shoulder.
“Excusez-moi,” she said quickly. “I must go.”
Samantha watched the girl skip off to join a crowd of teenagers, all wearing matching yellow T-shirts. The girl pointed back at her and Nipper, and everyone in the group turned quickly to see. When they noticed that Samantha was watching them, they all looked away in different directions. They began to point at sculptures around the temple, pretending to study them. Several pointed with loaves of French bread. It all seemed very odd.
“Did you see that?” she asked Nipper. “Really strange.”
“I’m getting used to it,” he replied. “We’ve been to a lot of strange places full of strange people.”
Samantha shook her head.
“That’s not true at all, Nipper,” she said. “Some places just seem strange because we haven’t been there yet.”
She noticed the Tour du Jour teenagers again. They were still pointing loaves of bread in all directions. Every now and then, one of them snuck a glance at her and Nipper. What did they want? She didn’t have time to find out.
“Never mind,” said Samantha. “Let’s move on…and go home.”
She pulled up her right sock and used the umbrella to wave her brother onward to the top of the temple.
Nipper skipped
ahead of Samantha to the top of Borobudur Temple. She only had one shoe, so she limped up the steps more slowly. She leaned on the umbrella as she climbed. When she reached the ninth level, she saw Nipper, at the far side of the platform, leaning against the base of a stupa. As she walked toward him, she saw he was wearing an I’ve-got-a-secret smile on his face.
“Check out this dome,” he said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “Notice anything unusual?”
“Hmm…let’s see,” she said, looking to the top of the stupa and back down to him. “There’s a boy soaked with smelly brown sludge leaning on it.”
“Ha ha, Sam,” Nipper replied. “But really, take a look up close.”
She studied the side of the dome and noticed it was dark gray, darker than any other stupa on the temple. It was also a little shiny. It didn’t look like stone.
“Good eye…for once,” said Samantha.
“Just wait a minute,” said Nipper. “Here’s the fun part.”
Nipper punched the side of the dome with his fist. It made a hollow, ringing sound, like a basketball bouncing. The stupa moved a few inches and then drifted back to the center.
“It’s a big balloon!” he said, and punched it again.
As the fake dome moved, Samantha peeked under it. Several ropes connected the balloon to the bottom of what looked to be a shallow pit.
“Very good,” she said, nodding slowly. “Maybe you’re starting to pay attention to things.”
Nipper frowned.
“Just keep that shoe where it is,” he said, pointing at her foot and rubbing his head.
Samantha glanced around the platform. When no one was watching, she leaned against the dome with both hands, shoving it as far to one side as she could.
“Go for it,” she said.
Nipper climbed over the side and dropped into the pit beneath the statue.
The fake stupa shook slightly.
“Your turn,” he called up.
Samantha pushed the stupa balloon aside and lowered herself over the edge. Her shoe and sock touched the bottom, about five feet below the balloon. The floor creaked as she landed, and it seemed to give a bit.
“Odd,” she said, and began to gaze around the pit warily.
Light trickled in from around the stupa balloon overhead. The top two feet of the rounded walls were made of stone. The floor and the lower part of the walls, however, were made of wood. She didn’t see any doors or exits.
Samantha sniffed the air. Her brother still reeked. A lot.
As she looked up at the bottom of the balloon, there was a splattering, trumpeting noise. It was long and loud, and it sounded very close by.
Anyone with a brother or a sister knows that sound.
Anyone who eats a lot of beans knows it, too.
“Oh…my…gosh, Nipper,” said Samantha. “Do you have to do that while I’m trapped in an enclosed space with you?”
“That wasn’t me,” said Nipper. “You smelt it, you dealt it.”
The sound started up again. It was a long, drawn-out, gurgling squeal.
“And may I say,” he added, “really impressive.”
The squealing noise kept going. It became louder, and a scraping sound joined in. Alarmed, Samantha looked around to find the noise. The walls of the pit seemed to be moving. No, they were sinking!
“It’s the pit!” cried Samantha.
She grabbed on to a rope in the center with one hand and held her umbrella tight with the other.
“Hah! I told you it wasn’t me,” said Nipper.
“I’m not talking about your smelly noises!” she shouted.
The squealing, scraping noise grew even louder. As they sank farther, the ropes pulled the dome balloon into the pit, blotting out the light.
“At least not this time,” Samantha added.
POP!
The noise was like that of a huge cork pulling free from a giant bottle. The bottom half of the pit was a big wooden bucket! It had disconnected from the stone walls and was pulling the balloon down. They dropped through the opening, faster than before.
As Samantha looked up, a new noise rang out. A replacement dome inflated above them. It expanded quickly and filled the hole, blotting out the sky.
“Balloon-o-matic!” said Nipper.
Everything took on an orange glow. The light came from beneath the bucket.
Ragged rock walls rose around them. As they dropped, several razor-sharp stones passed within inches of the balloon.
“Hold on tight,” said Samantha.
“That was my plan, Sam,” Nipper answered.
The deeper they drifted downward, the brighter the orange lights below glowed.
A gust of hot wind blew against Samantha’s matted hair. They stopped descending and started moving sideways through the cavern as a new stream of air caught them. The balloon lurched, and the bucket shook.
They moved faster now. Samantha guessed they were sailing at least twenty miles per hour.
Her ears popped. The cavern walls parted, and they entered a vast open space. It made the slidewalk hangar in Seattle seem tiny.
And the space was hot. So hot that Samantha started to sweat.
A deep, low rumble filled the air, and everything around them lit up in the bright orange light.
It was getting even hotter!
Her weight shifted and the bucket wobbled. She straightened up quickly.
“Careful, Sam,” said Nipper. “I don’t want to get dumped out here.”
He tilted his head to gesture at the cavern floor below.
She looked down.
Sharp limestone spikes pointed up. She and her brother drifted above a field of stalagmites. The light came from glowing orange rivers of lava, splashing and rumbling across the rocky floor. Plumes of sulfurous steam rose from bubbling craters filled with molten rock.
Samantha wiped sweat from her forehead and looked up.
The balloon coasted below a field of sharp stalactites. Slivers of light came through cracks in the stone above, joining reflected orange light from the lava below.
It finally dawned on Samantha: they were inside a volcano!
Samantha wanted to try on her glasses and look around, just in case there was a PSST or a clue, but it seemed wiser to stay still.
“Watch out!” Nipper shouted.
A black shape moved toward them from the side. It swerved and zoomed, squeaking and fluttering away.
“Don’t worry,” Samantha said. “It’s just a bat. It won’t bother us.”
“No, Sam,” Nipper said, waving urgently. “Look where we’re going.”
Ahead of them, the cavern ended. A wall of sharp rock pointed at them like needles. Samantha squinted and saw an oddly shaped opening in the wall. It was wide and round at the top, then narrow at the bottom. The shape reminded her of a soft-serve ice cream cone. They were coming up on it, fast!
“Hands inside the bucket,” she said to Nipper, and prepared for impact.
They fit through the hole—just barely. The balloon carried them into a new room and landed gently on a flat surface. They waited, staying still in the center of the bucket.
“Sca-ree,” said Samantha.
Nipper nodded. After another minute, he hopped out of the bucket and onto the floor.
Samantha felt the bucket rising again and she got out, too. As soon as her feet were on the floor, the balloon and bucket floated up and away.
Bang!
The sound made Samantha jump. Somewhere overhead, a stalactite had popped the balloon.
The wooden bucket crashed to the floor a few yards from them.
It was colder in this new area, and quieter. Samantha heard the familiar swishing-sandpaper noise.
“Slidewalks,” she said.
They stood in the center of a smoot
h concrete slab. It was about the size of a tennis court, but square and without a net. A set of twenty slidewalks moved to and from each side of the square. The belts disappeared into tunnels labeled with glowing signs similar to the ones under Volunteer Park.
AUSTRALIA
2,100 MILES
CHINA
3,700 MILES
INDIA
4,000 MILES
UNITED STATES
8,300 MILES
“Where to?” Nipper asked.
Samantha glanced down at her left foot. There was a hole in her sock. She looked at her brother. Brown sludge caked his body from head to toe. Her shoulder stung from the circus peanut. She was exhausted, and they had zero clues.
“Home,” she said. “We’ll start again tomorrow.”
Samantha was about to step onto the slowest U.S.-bound slidewalk when she noticed something in the distance.
“Wait,” she said, and walked over to investigate. “Come see this.”
Just past the edge of the concrete slab, a slender stalagmite, about two feet high, stuck out between some rocks. A plastic crate rested beside it. Samantha bent down and lifted something from the crate. It was a deflated inflatable animal. She stretched it out on the floor. It had a black-and-white-striped tail and a black mask across its eyes.
“That’s kind of neat,” said Nipper, studying the stalagmite. “Do you think it does something super-secret?”
“Not that,” said Samantha. She pointed at the deflated animal. “This.”
“A raccoon,” said Nipper.
“It figures,” said Samantha. “Morgan Bogan was telling the truth…and Uncle Paul was here.”
Nipper looked confused.
“It was all in that note from opening day,” Samantha said. “I think this raccoon is meant to let us know that Uncle Paul was here.”
Nipper shook his head.
“Beats me,” he said. “But I’ll take your word for it.”
Samantha frowned. How could anyone remember 783 varieties of candy, the name of the waffle iron inventor, and that Mali is one of sixteen landlocked countries in Africa, but not recall important details that could help them find their missing uncle?
Samantha Spinner and the Spectacular Specs Page 11