Samantha Spinner and the Spectacular Specs

by Russell Ginns

On Thursday, they met in the kitchen.

  “Granola bars,” she said, holding up a box.

  Nipper snatched it from her, took out a bar, and ate it in four bites.

  “Stop it,” she said. “You’re as bad as the lizard.”

  She grabbed the box back.

  “The other five bars are for our trip,” she told him.

  Nipper had already moved on to the spice rack.

  He grabbed jars of pepper, nutmeg, chili powder, cloves, and hot Hungarian paprika. He took a box of powdered dishwasher detergent from under the sink.

  “What is that for?” asked Samantha, watching him mix it all in a bowl.

  “Clown seasoning,” he answered, and poured the mixture into two plastic bags. “That will get their attention.”

  He stuffed one in his back pocket and handed the other to Samantha.

  “Wruf,” barked Dennis, scampering up to investigate.

  He sniffed twice at Nipper’s pants and backed away slowly. His cone clattered as he backed all the way out of the room.

  On Friday, Samantha laid out her clothes for the trip. Just like the tourists she saw in Borobudur, she’d wear hiking boots, shorts, a T-shirt, and a backpack. She’d bring a sweater in case it got chilly.

  She tried to get Nipper to organize his clothes, too.

  “It couldn’t hurt to plan your outfit for the trip,” she suggested.

  “Outfit? What’s wrong with you, Sam?” he snapped. “Are you turning into Buffy?”

  She shut up immediately.

  Later, he tossed her his New York Yankees sweatshirt for the backpack.

  Saturday, at seven a.m., they sat together in the kitchen. The magnifying glass, Peru guidebook, granola bars, clothes, and currency covered the table.

  “Umbrella,” said Nipper.

  “Check,” said Samantha.

  She lowered one hand and touched the red umbrella resting across her lap.

  “Purple specs,” said Nipper.

  “Check,” Samantha answered, tapping her purse.

  “Hand lens?” asked Samantha.

  “Check. And can I bring the dinosaur—I mean, the Komodo dragon?” he asked.

  “Are you kidding me?” said Samantha. “Keep that monster in your room until we figure out what to do with it.”

  “How about Dennis?” Nipper asked.

  “Not this time,” she answered.

  Her brother looked disappointed.

  Samantha noticed the pug creeping around the edges of the kitchen. His plastic cone rattled on the tile floor. He was stalking a chinchilla, no doubt. She pictured the giant lizard stalking Dennis.

  “I changed my mind. Bring the dog,” she said. “When ‘Kym’ is done eating all the chinchillas, pugs are probably next on the menu.”

  “Dennis. Check,” said Nipper.

  “Now listen up,” she said, tapping the table. “Last night, I told Mom and Dad we were getting up early to work on a science project next door with Morgan Bogan. I’m starting to believe him, but most people still think everything he says is preposterous.”

  Nipper looked at her, trying to understand.

  “You see,” she continued, “if he tells Mom and Dad we’re not there, they won’t be sure if that’s true or not.”

  “Okay.” Nipper shrugged. “That seems like a good plan.”

  Samantha didn’t like sneaking around and misleading her parents. But maybe, if they didn’t know about the SUN, the clowns would leave them out of it. Besides, they might not understand this was a mission to save Uncle Paul, and possibly the whole world.

  She looked out the kitchen window. She saw the sun—the good kind of sun—shining, and a clear sky.

  “It’s a fine day to save the whole world,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  Nipper took the magnifying glass. Samantha stowed everything else in the backpack. Carefully, she slid the umbrella into a loop on one side of the pack. She stood up and put the pack on.

  They headed down Thirteenth Avenue, past the mailbox, and into the park. Samantha didn’t bother with the purple sunglasses this time. She knew where to go. They passed the water tower and the art museum to reach the special fire hydrant.

  Samantha reached for the octagonal bolt, but Nipper held out his hand and blocked her.

  “Wait,” he said. “Can I have one of those granola bars?”

  “Already?” Samantha asked.

  “Yep,” he answered. “I hate slidewalking on an empty stomach.”

  Samantha shrugged and reached into a side pocket of her backpack. She held a snack bar out for her brother.

  Dennis started growling.

  “This isn’t for you,” she told him.

  Swack!

  Something whizzed near Samantha’s hand. It sliced the granola bar neatly in two. She stood there, stunned.

  Clank! Clank!

  Two pancakes sailed by. Sparks flew as they ricocheted off the fire hydrant.

  Samantha thought she had packed everything they would need for a trip to Peru. Unfortunately, she forgot to include a defense against steel-rimmed, armor-piercing johnnycakes. She stared at two deep marks on the hydrant. Smoke rose from the dome, where the deadly pancakes had gouged the metal.

  She turned toward the art museum. Four clowns in overalls marched toward her, waving spatulas. Samantha thought she recognized two of them from Mali, but she couldn’t be sure—and she wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

  She made eye contact with Nipper. Together, they sprinted across the conservatory’s front lawn. Dennis scampered at their heels.

  Suddenly, the dog turned and sped back to the hydrant. He scooped up both halves of the granola bar. Then he caught up with Samantha and Nipper. All three of them made a sharp right turn at the corner of the building and slipped behind a tall bush.

  “Should we head to the fabric store?” Nipper asked. “Maybe they’ll pass out the way those ninjas did.”

  “I don’t think that will work,” said Samantha. “Did you see their outfits? They clearly have a textile immunity.”

  Samantha suddenly felt a twinge of fear, and it wasn’t because of clowns. She’d just said another thing Buffy would say! At this rate, Samantha was going to wind up in a sky castle, shopping for flags to accentuate bricks.

  “Wait,” said Nipper. “I’ve got this one.”

  He took out his bag of clown seasoning. He walked around the bush and dropped the bag on the grass.

  “Get ready,” he said. “When I say ‘Go for it,’ run.”

  He pointed to the back of the conservatory. Then he stepped farther out and waved in the direction of the clowns.

  “Hey, Bozos!” Nipper shouted. “Come and get us!”

  He slapped at the bag with his foot, leaning as far back as possible. The bag popped, sending a brown cloud into the air.

  “Run, Sam!” he shouted, and headed toward the back of the building.

  Dennis took off after him. Nipper forgot to say “Go for it,” but Samantha knew what he meant. She followed him around the corner, too.

  They sped along the back of the brick-and-glass building. They made another sharp turn, hugged the side of the conservatory, and listened.

  Everything was quiet for a moment. Then they heard an explosion of woe.

  “Ah! Eek!” wailed a clown. “It’s pepper.”

  “You mixed it up!” a second clown shouted. “It’s pepper. Eek! Ah!”

  “Help!” a different clown screamed. “This is NOT SILLY!”

  “Aaaaah!” another clown shrieked, drowning out all the others. “The CUMIN-ity!”

  Samantha and Nipper stayed put, listening to howls and coughs. After a while, the sounds faded to moans and wheezes.

  “Four clowns down,” said Nipper.

  He stepped away from the
wall and looked back along the building.

  “Coast is clear,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  They reached the fire hydrant and journeyed down beneath the conservatory.

  They hopped off the lift ring and onto the rotating floor. Samantha read the country names above the openings as they rotated past.

  “This is it,” she said, pointing at the entrance to the Peru slidewalk.

  Before she could step through, Nipper tapped her on the shoulder.

  “Can I have a granola bar?” he asked. “I told you I hate to slidewalk on an empty stomach.”

  Samantha reached into the backpack and held one out for her brother.

  “Wruf!” Dennis barked.

  He jumped and snatched the granola bar. His white plastic cone smacked Nipper on the hand.

  “Hey!” Nipper cried. “That’s mine! You’re a bad—”

  The dog sprinted into the left side of the entrance to Norway.

  Nipper gasped. He looked at Samantha and pointed to the sign.

  She waited.

  The exit belt dumped Dennis back into the room. His cone clattered as he rolled across the floor. He righted himself and sat down, munching happily on his snack.

  Samantha let him finish. Then she picked him up.

  “Okay,” she said. “Now, let’s go to Lima.”

  With Dennis tucked under her arm, she stepped through the right side of the Peru opening, onto the five-miles-per-hour slidewalk.

  Nipper followed her across the conveyor belts. When they reached the fastest one, he hopped in front of her and held out his hand.

  “Slidewalking,” he said. “I hate doing it on an empty stomach.”

  Samantha sighed, reached into her backpack once again, and fished out another granola bar.

  “Here,” she said, and tossed it.

  When Nipper moved to catch the bar, he popped a bubble with his heel. A plastic enclosure shot upward, sealing him tight. The bar bounced off the bubble wrap and disappeared.

  Lights turned yellow and the alarm sounded.

  Samantha held Dennis tight and stepped on a bubble. The protective padding closed around them.

  As they zoomed toward Peru, Samantha noticed her brother looking at her. His lips moved. Five minus three.

  Samantha nodded and mouthed back at him. Yes. I know.

  There were only two granola bars left.

  In a concrete bunker, twenty feet beneath Baraboo, Wisconsin, Chuckles J. Morningstar paced back and forth, shouting at the SUN.

  “Giving you orders is like screaming into an empty garbage can!” he bellowed.

  In three long rows, ninety-nine soldiers stood at attention. Chuckles walked slowly in front of them. He stopped at an extra-nervous soldier. He removed his top hat, held it by the brim, and took aim.

  Bonk!

  A red leather boxing glove shot from the top of the hat and whacked the soldier in the face.

  “Ouchie!” wailed Private Griddles. “What did I do?”

  Chuckles grunted and moved on to Sergeant Hotcakes. He stared at the pancake soldier’s uniform. There were fresh, reddish-brown streaks on his overalls.

  Chuckles sniffed. Two short snorts, then a long one. It was hot Hungarian paprika. He held his breath and leaned closer. Bits of blue sparkled in the powder. Was it detergent? Chuckles stepped back, exhaled, and began to shout.

  “You used steel-rimmed, armor-piercing johnnycakes,” he said angrily. “You could have killed that girl.”

  “So?” asked Sergeant Hotcakes. “We’d get the map.”

  Chuckles moved forward again, within an inch of the soldier’s red nose ball.

  “It could have been a fake umbrella,” he growled. “That girl’s tricky. She might try to pull a stunt like that. Your job was to let them go and follow them.”

  “Oh, we know where they went, boss,” said Private Griddles. “Peru. We found a trail of granola crumbs. First, we went all the way to Norway, but—”

  “Enough,” said Chuckles, turning away.

  He started pacing again. The rest of the SUN remained silent.

  “We need to find the uncle,” he said, finally. “He knows everything.”

  “What about the other kid?” asked a pie soldier in the second row.

  “That annoying boy doesn’t know anything!” Chuckles shouted.

  “What about that doohickey he was carrying?” asked a peanut soldier.

  “Doohickey?” asked Chuckles. “You mean his magnifying glass? That’s nothing special.”

  “No, sir,” said Sergeant Shellshock. “When I was in the park in Mopti, I heard the kids talking about a hand-something-or-other. I think they used it to escape.”

  Chuckles thought about this for a moment and stared at his hand. He looked up at the soldiers again.

  “A hand-something-or-other,” he said thoughtfully. “With our luck, it’s some kind of…super weapon.”

  “Super weapon?” asked a pie clown in the back row.

  “He said ‘super weapon’!” another peanut clown hollered.

  Murmurs filled the bunker. The SUN began talking to one another about a super weapon.

  Chuckles sneered at his soldiers.

  “SUN-down!” he shouted.

  Instant silence. Everyone stood at attention.

  “I need a volunteer,” he announced.

  Quack-quack!

  The giant woman’s shoes echoed as she pushed her way to the front.

  “Not you this time,” said Chuckles, looking up at her. “This job calls for someone…stealthier.”

  She quacked back to her place in the formation.

  “Meeeeee!” a high-pitched, squeaky voice rang out. “Pick meeeeee!”

  A balloon shaped like a hand wiggled high above the second row.

  “Good,” said Chuckles. “Come with me, Major Helium.”

  A soldier in a checkered bodysuit pushed his way through the ranks. He wore a leather cap and goggles. Rainbow suspenders held a silver canister to his back.

  Chuckles walked with the balloon soldier to the exit tunnel. He paused and looked back at the rest of the SUN.

  “Listen up,” he told them. “With those smelly ninjas gone, I thought it was safe to ride the magtrain to Seattle. But that’s not the case. Nobody goes there again without my permission.”

  He looked at all the faces in the crowd. Heads nodded in unison.

  “Wait for Major Helium to find out where the uncle is. Then we’ll go and get him…together!”

  The SUN cheered. And sneezed. And cheered some more.

  Samantha hopped off the conveyor belt and landed beside Nipper. Slidewalking was getting easier. The pug started squirming, so she let him go.

  “Wruf,” Dennis yapped as he plopped onto a cement floor.

  The bark, already amplified by his plastic cone, echoed loudly in the chamber. Samantha followed the sound as it bounced around them and slowly faded. They stood at the bottom of a concrete silo. Metal scaffolding rose from the center of the chamber, filling most of the cylindrical space. Flights of stairs zigzagged up to the top of the metal structure.

  “One, two, three, Peru,” said Nipper, counting flights.

  At the top of the third flight of stairs, a metal bridge extended to an open doorway. Light streamed in, along with the noises of a busy city.

  “Ready, Sam?” Nipper asked, pointing at the steps.

  “Almost,” she answered. “Hand lens, please.”

  Samantha held out her hand. While Nipper passed her the magnifying glass, she used her other hand to pull the umbrella off her shoulder. She raised it high above her head and popped it open with her thumb. Holding the magnifier at arm’s length, she closed one eye and peered through the lens with the other.

  “Just what I thought,” she said, and sna
pped the umbrella shut.

  She was getting much better at figuring out the lines and shapes on the Plans. This, plus taking the time to prepare for their journey, made her feel confident. She was becoming an explorer. A true explorer.

  “You’re becoming a show-off, Sam,” said Nipper. “A true show-off.”

  “Just wait,” she replied. “It gets better.”

  Together, they climbed the stairs.

  “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this,” said Samantha as they marched up the metal steps. “All those nights we spent listening to Uncle Paul, what did he tell stories about the most?”

  “The Great Wall of China,” said Nipper.

  “Okay, that’s correct,” she said. “But the slidewalk doesn’t go to China. What’s the other amazing place he talked about all the time?”

  “A mountain city called Machu Picchu,” Nipper answered, waving his hands and imitating their uncle’s voice.

  He stopped imitating Uncle Paul and wrinkled his forehead.

  “Is that in Lima?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “But we’re close. It’s in Peru, and we’re on our way.”

  When they cleared the second set of stairs, they stopped at a landing.

  Across from the stairs was a wide, round hole, ten feet in diameter, in the concrete wall. A thick steel cable came out of the hole and connected to the scaffolding. Samantha leaned over the edge of the landing, tugged on the cable, and peered into darkness.

  “What’s this for?” asked Nipper.

  Samantha shrugged and shook her head.

  “I haven’t the foggiest idea,” she said. “But let’s keep going.”

  She pulled out the Peru guidebook. “I spent a lot of time studying the Plans and matching things up with this guide. I think I’ve found out a way to get to Machu Picchu in style.”

  They continued up the stairs.

  “Are you sure we’re headed in the right direction?” Nipper asked, looking back at the huge, dark hole.

  Samantha stopped and took out the purple sunglasses. She put them on and looked around the silo.

  Big yellow letters, each twelve inches high, pulsed on the concrete. They formed a message from the top of the chamber to the floor below: