by Natale Ghent
“What meeting?” his aunt asked. “And what about breakfast?”
“Gotta go!” Boney dashed out the door with the kitten. He raced to the bottom of the tree house, looking around for any suspicious activity before climbing the rope ladder. Slowly raising his head through Escape Hatch #1, Boney could see Henry sleeping peacefully in his box at the other end of the clubhouse. “Must be safe if Henry is okay,” he said to Tiger as he climbed the rest of the way in.
Moments later, there was noise at the base of the tree. Boney looked out the window and saw Squeak and Sam climbing up the ladder with their kittens. Squeak’s camouflaged face peeked through the escape hatch opening.
“It’s okay,” Boney said. “The coast is clear.”
Squeak signalled to Sam, and the two pulled themselves up into the clubhouse. They were both dressed in full military style: boots, fatigues, toques, camo, and kitten clone-detectors. Sam held up a box of kitten chow and a shallow bowl.
“I brought food for our clone-detectors—and cat litter with a box.” She placed her kitten on the clubhouse floor, arranged the litter box, and filled the bowl with chow.
The sound of the kibble woke Henry from his slumber. He cocked his head and eyed the food, jumped from his box, and ruffled his feathers. Boney and Squeak placed their kittens by the bowl. Henry swaggered over and gazed at the kittens, then pecked at the chow.
“That’s so cute,” Sam cooed. “I wish I had my camera.”
Squeak pulled his Polaroid from his messenger bag. “I’ve got mine.” He took a picture and handed the photo to Sam so she could watch it develop.
“You are sooo sweet!” Sam squealed.
A delirious giggle escaped from Squeak’s lips, but he quickly composed himself when he saw the horrified look on Boney’s face.
Sam grinned at the photo as the image emerged. But then she grew serious again. “Where’s Itchy?”
Squeak sighed. “He’s often late.”
“Let’s just hope he’s okay,” Boney said.
Squeak raised an eyebrow from behind his goggles. “What do you mean?”
Boney hesitated. “A clone broke into my room last night.”
“What?!” Sam and Squeak exclaimed.
Boney sat in his comfy chair. “I tried to call Squeak on the Tele-tube to warn him, but he didn’t answer. And then a whole bunch of clones were in my yard, so that blows our theory about clones travelling alone.”
“Maybe they’re starting to panic,” Sam said. “They know we’re on to them and they’re trying to get as much done as possible before they all get caught.”
“But why would they break into my house?” Boney asked.
“Maybe they remembered you from before,” Squeak said.
“But why would they only break into Boney’s house?” Sam wondered.
Squeak rested his chin in his hand, then his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers. “Maybe it’s the food!”
“The food?” Boney said. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you said your aunt gave the clones cookies, right?” “Yeah …”
“And the newspaper said the Itchy clones were caught stealing pies and doughnuts.”
“So …?”
“So it must be the food they’re after,” Squeak said.
Boney puzzled over this for a moment. “I suppose it’s possible … Anyway, if it wasn’t for Tiger, I would have been toast. He kicked that clone’s butt.” He nuzzled the kitten.
“Good thing you had him with you,” Sam said.
“What about your aunt?” Squeak asked. “Is she going to let you keep him?”
Boney smiled. “As it turns out, Tiger is not only an expert clone fighter, he’s an amazing bug catcher, too.”
“Ah.” Squeak turned to Sam. “His aunt suffers from an uncontrollable phobia of insects.”
“Oh. That’s unfortunate.” Sam tossed her hair. “It’s actually quite a common fear.” She was about to elaborate when they heard a noise at the foot of the tree.
Everyone froze. Henry raised his head and glared around the clubhouse.
A mop of red hair rose slowly into view. “What’s for breakfast?” Itchy asked, his head popping up through Escape Hatch #1.
Squeak and Sam exhaled with relief.
Boney growled, “Get in here. You’re late, as usual. And why are you wearing my Superman T-shirt? We agreed last night: full regalia!”
Itchy looked down at his shirt. “I was in a hurry and I had nothing else to wear. And how should I know what, ‘full regalia’ means?”
Boney gestured at Sam, who was dressed to military precision, including a military-issue camouflage vest and knapsack. “Sam knew what it meant.”
“Well, goody for Sam,” Itchy grunted.
Squeak raised an eyebrow. “I question the wisdom of dressing exactly like the clones we’re trying to defeat.”
Itchy shot him a wry look. “Thanks, Army Spock. I preferred it when you had a crush on Leonardo da Vinci.”
“Who has a crush on da Vinci?” Sam asked.
Squeak spoke through clenched teeth. “He’s being totally illogical. And he’s evading the question.”
Itchy rolled his eyes. “Well, excuse me, Your Royal Spockness, but my mom hasn’t done laundry yet.”
“So … you couldn’t have worn a different dirty shirt?” Boney said, jumping up from his chair. “We won’t be able to tell you apart from the rest of the clones.”
“This was the least-dirty shirt I have right now. It doesn’t stink.” Itchy sniffed his armpit as proof.
Boney grimaced with disgust. “I could have lent you something else.”
“And have you harassing me for the rest of my life? No way.”
“You could learn to do your own laundry,” Sam suggested. “It’s not that difficult.”
Squeak looked at her with surprise. “That’s what I’m always telling him.”
Itchy pouted. “Why don’t you all just gang up on me.”
“We’re not ganging up on you,” Boney said.
“Yes, you are!”
“I have a fun surprise.” Sam swung her knapsack off her shoulder and unzipped it. Reaching in, she pulled out a handful of purple-checkered material and handed the boys a small bundle of cloth each. “There’s one for everyone.”
“Thanks,” Squeak said, before he even knew what it was.
Itchy held the article at arm’s length as though he had just dug it out from the garbage. “Uhhh … What is it? Underwear?”
“Field dressings?” Boney guessed.
“Kitten holders!” Sam said. “I made them last night. You wear them like a sling.” She demonstrated by pulling the sling over her head and slipping Fluffy in, adjusting the cloth until the kitten was comfortably situated.
Squeak slipped the sling over his shoulder and placed his kitten inside. “Neat.”
“This way we can carry our kittens and have our hands free,” Sam explained.
“Cool.” Boney put on his sling, tucking Tiger in.
Sam turned to Itchy. “Yours is slightly bigger to accommodate Henry.”
“They’re a little loud, don’t you think?” Itchy complained. “They clash with your camouflage.”
“It was the best I could do with the materials I had on hand.”
“We may as well wave a red flag,” Itchy grumbled.
“Purple,” Squeak joked.
“Just put it on,” Boney ordered.
Itchy put on the sling and placed Henry inside. The rooster fluffed his feathers and nestled down, his head poking out.
“Ingenious,” Squeak said.
Itchy patted Henry on the head, then pulled a cheese sandwich out of nowhere and began to eat. “So what’s the plan?”
“The same as last night,” Boney said. “We go back to the warehouse and scout around. If we’re lucky, we’ll find the Mother Ship.”
Itchy bobbled his head. “If we’re lucky?”
“You know what I mean. Maybe we can catch them
off guard.”
“Catch them off guard …?” Itchy repeated. “That’s your plan?”
Boney gave him an irritated look.
Itchy turned to Squeak and Sam. “Seriously? That’s really your plan?”
“Do you have any better ideas?” Boney asked.
Itchy took a bite from his sandwich. “I’m just saying … it doesn’t sound like much of a plan to me.”
“It’s all we’ve got right now.”
“Fine.”
Boney shot him another look and continued. “As I was saying … We’ll follow the train tracks the way we did before. Everyone remember to stick close together— and no heroics.”
Itchy smirked. “No problem there.”
Boney addressed Sam. “Do you have the Disruptor and the electro-node-a-metre?”
Sam touched a little leather pouch on her belt. “Locked and loaded.”
“Good,” Boney said. “Then let’s go.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MIND CONTROL
The sun was reaching over the treetops as the band of friends moved along the train tracks to the opening at the edge of the woods. Boney gestured for the troop to wait while he left the tracks and crouched in the shade at the foot of the path, looking for clues. The sunlight glinted through the leaves; a light breeze sighed in the tree branches. Boney looked around to be sure the coast was clear, then signalled for the gang to join him.
Squeak crouched beside Boney. “Any evidence of recent activity?” He pulled his telescope from his messenger bag and scanned the woods.
Boney pointed at a clump of bushes. “Some broken branches and about a thousand more footprints since yesterday.”
Sam produced the electro-node-a-metre from her knapsack and held it out in front of her, pressing the silver button. The thin wire arms rose from the sides of the device and began to whirl around, the small glass globes at the ends of the arms firing up and reflecting like Christmas lights in the lenses of Squeak’s goggles. Itchy pulled a gigantic package of licorice from Henry’s sling and stripped a couple of pieces from the pack.
Boney stared at him incredulously. “You’re keeping your licorice in the sling next to Henry?”
“It’s easier to get to.” Itchy waved the licorice at Boney. “Want a piece?”
“Uh … no thanks.”
Itchy offered the licorice to Squeak, who raised an eyebrow and shook his head. Then he reluctantly turned to Sam, who politely refused. “Suit yourself,” he said, stuffing the pack back into Henry’s sling.
Sam continued to scan the area, moving the electro-node-a-metre along the ground and up toward the broken branches of the bushes, the arms spinning faster and faster. “The clones have definitely been busy.”
Itchy chewed on his licorice. “Doing what?”
“It’s anyone’s guess.” Sam turned off the device and stowed it safely in her pouch. “But I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”
“It’s unusually quiet in the woods today,” Squeak observed. “I can’t hear any birds at all — or the humming.”
“What humming?” Itchy asked.
“The humming from the warehouse,” Boney said.
“The clones hum?” Itchy pulled another piece of licorice from the pack, gobbling it down.
“Not the clones, the warehouse,” Boney said.
Itchy swallowed. “The warehouse hums?”
“Not the warehouse, per se. The machine that makes the clones, I think.”
“But the clones themselves don’t hum?”
“They might hum. How should I know?” Boney said.
Itchy shrugged. “You seem to know everything else.”
Boney frowned. “What is wrong with you?”
“What?”
“This isn’t a joke, you know.”
“Do you see me laughing?”
“Gentlemen, please,” Squeak intervened.
Itchy and Boney turned to see Sam staring at them in disbelief. Itchy folded his arms self-consciously. Boney straightened his sling, Tiger purring inside. “Shall we continue?” Boney said.
The four friends skulked along the path, Itchy obsessively munching on licorice and practically walking on Squeak’s heels as Boney continued to point out indicators that the clones had been on the move.
“We should reach the warehouse any minute,” he said. “It should be just around this bend in the path.” Boney walked ahead about fifty feet, and then backtracked. “It should be here,” he insisted. He turned around where he stood. “I can’t believe this. It’s gone.”
“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Squeak asked.
“I’m positive!”
Squeak retrieved his telescope and searched the woods. “This is highly irregular.”
Itchy chewed on his licorice, looking hopeful. “Maybe the clones packed up their tent and left.”
“How could they just leave?” Boney said, pacing back and forth. “There was a giant warehouse here yesterday, with blue lights and a huge machine inside, and hundreds, maybe thousands, of clones!”
Itchy waved a piece of licorice at the empty spot. “Well, they’re not here now.”
“It does appear that the clones have left,” Squeak said. “The kittens aren’t at all alarmed—and neither is Henry.” The rooster snored in Itchy’s sling. “If the clones were here, wouldn’t our animal companions be concerned?”
“We don’t know how close we have to be to the clones before Henry and the kittens will respond to their presence,” Sam said. “We’ve only ever seen their response at close range. Besides, the electro-node-a-metre gave a strong positive reading that the clones are in the area.” She pulled a pair of binoculars from her bag and began searching the site.
Squeak scoured the forest with his telescope.
“No movement of any kind on the west end,” Sam reported.
“The east side is also clear,” Squeak said.
Boney pulled on his chin. “Maybe they relocated the warehouse to avoid further detection. Let’s try moving deeper into the woods.” He motioned for the group to fall out, causing Sam and Squeak to turn abruptly, Squeak’s telescope hitting Sam’s binoculars and nearly knocking them from her hands.
His face turned instantly red. “Oh, sorry.” He clapped his telescope shut and placed it back in his bag.
Sam also blushed, fumbling with her binoculars as she placed them in her knapsack.
Seconds later, Henry woke with a start. He made a low clucking noise. This roused the kittens, who instantly growled as they trained their eyes on a point deep in the woods.
“Clone alert!” Boney whispered.
Itchy jumped behind him, peering over his shoulder. “I can’t see anything.”
“Over there! Ten o’clock!” Squeak pointed to a spot in the trees.
“I see them,” Sam said. “They seem to be on the move. Let’s go.”
“Do we have to?” Itchy whined, but Boney, Squeak, and Sam were already creeping through the trees. He groaned. “This can’t be a good idea.”
Boney pressed his finger to his lips. “Shhh … If they hear you, we’re in big trouble.”
Itchy imitated him, pressing his finger to his lips to show he understood. Then he crossed his heart and stuffed another piece of licorice into his mouth.
The friends crept forward, huddling in a tight group. They stopped behind a clump of bushes, watching. The kittens flattened their ears and hissed. Henry clucked low in his gizzard.
The clones moved single file through the forest, faces vacant, small meeping sounds emanating from their lips. Their feet seemed made of lead as they lumbered like sleepwalkers, their arms outstretched.
“There must be millions of them,” Itchy said. “And every one looks exactly like me!” He stepped on a twig, the sharp snap echoing through the forest. The four friends froze with fear as several clones whipped their heads around to discover the source of the sound, their empty eyes searching the woods. But they soon forgot what they were looking for
and turned away, urged on by some invisible signal that seemed to control them.
“What’s wrong with them?” Itchy asked. “Where are they going and why are they all moving like that?”
“Hive mentality—like ants,” Squeak explained. “They’re likely being organized through some kind of electromagnetic impulse.”
“Mind control,” Sam said. “We were right.”
Squeak nodded. “It’s quite effective on less intelligent life forms.”
Itchy scoffed with amusement. “Stupid clones … thinking they can impersonate me …”
“What are they carrying?” Boney asked.
Sam studied the clones through her binoculars. “It’s food. They’re all carrying food.”
Itchy’s nose twitched. “Food?”
“So our theory was correct,” Squeak said. “The clones must have attacked Boney’s house in search of things to eat.”
“But why do they need all this food?” Boney wondered.
Itchy licked his lips. “What kind of food?”
“Sweets.” Sam adjusted the focus on her binoculars. “Doughnuts, cakes, chocolate, cream puffs, jars of caramel sauce … whole bags of sugar.”
Itchy drooled. “Really? Where are they going with all that amazing stuff?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Boney said. He signalled to Sam and Squeak to move to the right and flank the clones. “Stay hidden. And under no circumstances should you engage the enemy. We just want to determine where they’re going at this point. Understood?”
Squeak and Sam saluted. Boney saluted back. He turned to speak to Itchy but found Henry instead, staring at him with his yellow eyes, his purple sling abandoned on the ground. Boney picked up the sling in shock. “Itchy’s gone!”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE MOTHER SHIP
Itchy moved through the woods as though hypnotized, his arms held out in front of him, his hands clutching the half-eaten package of red licorice.
“Itchy, NO!” Boney cried. He made to run, but Sam grabbed his shirt.
“It’s too dangerous.”
Boney pulled away from Sam’s grasp. “But we have to help him! His mind is being controlled!”