The Battle of the Werepenguins

by Allan Woodrow

  She hoped, when the time came, the hero she knew was in him would come out.

  As they made their way down the hallway, the air felt muggier. Steamy. They saw vapor clouds, and Annika sneezed.

  The hallway opened into a large concourse with a glass tank that might have held a million gallons of water and was filled with thousands of colorful fish. Just beyond that was a staircase that led up into a thick, misty cloud. A sign read:

  upstairs. fish fryer.

  “I’m heading up,” Annika whispered to Blackburn. “Whatever is going on here, that fish fryer seems to be the key.”

  “There could be hundreds of penguins in there.”

  “And maybe Bolt, too.”

  “Then runnin’ headlong into the room would seem like a poor way to free him, aye? What about over there?” He pointed to a set of doors underneath the staircase. There was nothing particularly interesting about those doors, they didn’t have any sort of sign indicating where they led to, but Annika noticed why Blackburn had pointed to them. A puff of steam wiggled through a small crack between the door and the floor. “That must be another entrance into the fryer, aye?”

  Annika rushed across the hallway. Blackburn hesitated for a moment, sighed, and joined her. She jiggled the door handle, but it was locked, and there was no keyhole to pick. “Drat! We will need to find a different way in.”

  “All this sneaky bandit stuff is fine and dandy, but us pirates have a few tricks, too.” Blackburn nudged Annika aside and rammed his black pirate boot against the door. The door squeaked. He kicked again. The door thudded. He raced toward the door and smashed into it with his shoulder, breaking it off its hinges with a deafening bang!

  “Could you be any louder?” Annika complained.

  “At least I didn’t step on any of those.” He pointed to a mound of cotton balls on the floor.

  They entered a large walk-in kitchen pantry, which was crammed with dozens of plastic buckets. Curious, Annika dug her fingernails into one of the bucket lids and peeled it open. She dipped a finger inside. “These are filled with bread crumbs.” She sneezed twice. “Way too peppery, though. Why would they need this many bread crumbs? Are they planning on frying a whale?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Blackburn, also sneezing, although his sneeze was much louder than Annika’s had been.

  They continued through the pantry, navigating around the tubs, trying not to sneeze, until they reached a set of swinging doors at the end. They could hear bubbling liquid from the other side, and penguin barks.

  Annika pushed the door open gently and was hit by a wave of moist air. She blinked a few times as a cloud of wet, hot mist sprayed onto her face. She wiped her eyes and, when her vision cleared, stared at an enormous swimming pool, bubbling, steam rising from it.

  Blackburn peeked through the crack of the door, just over Annika’s head. “Why would someone need a swimming pool filled with hot oil?” he wondered aloud.

  They looked up, and their question was answered. A whale, an actual whale, hovered over the pool in a harness attached to the arm of a large claw. The whale had a white sling over its mouth and did not look happy to be there. “That’s not a pool, it’s a fish fryer! And I think they plan to fry that whale,” said Annika. “The poor thing!”

  “Aye,” agreed Blackburn. “Whales are no friends of pirates, mind ye. A whale attacked me pirate ship once, but that’s another story. Still, the creature doesn’t deserve to be boiled alive.”

  Annika scanned the rest of the room. A large control console, so tall it reached the ceiling, stood on a raised platform. Dr. Walzanarz was there, along with a group of toothbrush-carrying penguin guards, and penguins in lab coats pressing buttons amid the blinking lights of the computer. Every penguin wore a head mirror.

  On the platform, but also on the sides of the pool, other penguins mopped the oil-splattered ground. One of those mopping penguins was only a few feet away from Annika.

  She shrank back to avoid being seen.

  “I want to fry that whale! And I want to fry it now!” screamed Dr. Walzanarz into a walkie-talkie. A few penguins yelped back. Annika didn’t speak penguin, but from Dr. Walzanarz’s frustrated squawk, she wasn’t happy with their responses.

  The crane moved, an inch and only an inch, and then that was followed by a rusty squeal and a loud POP! One of the buckles in the harness snapped open. The whale dangled on its side, still hovering over the pool, but the rest of its binding looked dangerously unsteady. Another buckle could burst any second, and the whale would be a goner.

  Annika needed to do something. She couldn’t stay here, hidden. Bolt needed her! The world needed her! And right now, this whale needed her! Could Annika reach Dr. Walzanarz without being spotted? She needed to run up a metal staircase to get to her, so the odds were low. But she had to try.

  There was a flash of movement on the opposite end of the platform. A penguin guard had been standing there, Annika was certain of it. As a bandit she could scan a room and immediately remember everything about it. But now the penguin was gone. After a pause, part of a head popped up from behind a stack of boxes.

  A pair of eyes peeked up. Annika squinted.

  She didn’t recognize those eyes, but they were definitely human. And maybe a hint of something else . . .

  Then a second set of eyes popped up, and Annika’s heart leapt.

  Bolt! Annika would recognize his twin horn-shaped hair bulges anywhere. Yes, those were definitely his bushy eyebrows. He was alive! And not even a prisoner! Annika gave a yip of happiness. What was Bolt doing here?

  Fortunately, no one heard Annika’s yip because at that exact moment, Bolt sneezed, and the sound of his sneeze echoed across the entire room. “Why is it so peppery in here?” he asked.

  Dr. Walzanarz stared at Bolt, as did every penguin in the room. Bolt stood up, and so did the boy, a teenager a couple of years older than Bolt, with hair as unruly as his and a nose just as big. Had Bolt found someone to help them? It seemed so, as Bolt and the boy strode across the platform, toward Dr. Walzanarz’s perch.

  “You!” the dentist shouted, her voice echoing across the wide-open room. She held up a small radio. “Kiki? My silver-fanged beauty? Kiki? Come in!” She stomped her foot. “Come in, my dahling penguin!”

  “She’s indisposed at the moment,” Bolt growled. “And now it’s time you cooperate with me. I want that silver Ealsay tooth!” He pointed at Dr. Walzanarz. A glimmer of light bounced off something shiny and reflective in her chest pocket.

  The dentist screamed into her radio: “Stop him, my dahlings! I command you all!”

  A group of burly penguins with toothbrushes that had been standing guard near the doorway behind Dr. Walzanarz rushed toward Bolt.

  “Out of me way, missy.” Blackburn pushed open the swinging door and rushed into the room. In one motion, he grabbed a mop from the penguin janitor near them and swept it at the bird’s feet, toppling it over.

  “I thought you promised you wouldn’t fight,” said Annika.

  “Well, maybe just this once. Besides, pirates never keep our promises. Ye know that.”

  Blackburn looked out of shape, what with his big gut and clumsy, noisy gait, but when he fought, he was a different person. The hero in him had finally come out.

  Holding his mop with one hand, he rushed up the stairs two at a time, his boots clomping loudly.

  “En garde!” Blackburn cried as he reached the top of the stairs and faced a toothbrush-carrying penguin. The pirate twirled the mop handily. It whistled and whipped through the air like a sword. The penguin swung its toothbrush at Blackburn—which could have easily sent Blackburn over the railing and into the hot oil below, had it connected—but Blackburn ducked out of the way and jabbed the penguin in the stomach with his mop. The penguin keeled over. Another penguin rushed toward the pirate, but the heavy toothbrush slowed it
down. Blackburn was faster. He swung his mop like a baseball bat, hitting one of the penguin’s wings. The penguin dropped its toothbrush, and then Blackburn sprung up, feetfirst. His feet collided against the penguin’s belly, and he bounced off the bird as if it were a trampoline.

  Penguin bellies can be quite springy.

  “Son of a biscuit-eater!” Blackburn roared, continuing to swing the mop handle, striking three more penguins.

  Annika hadn’t joined the fight yet. She had been too surprised to do anything but watch: that helpless whale hanging above the pool, Bolt and his new friend emerging from their hiding spot, Blackburn rushing into the fray. She didn’t know who was at greater risk.

  But Annika was done being a spectator. She pushed open the door of the pantry to join her friends, but after only one step, she felt a heavy bang on the back of her head.

  The world spun. She blinked, trying to regain focus, her head aching as she fell to her knees.

  When she turned her head, she saw the nastiest penguin she had ever seen. The penguin bellowed at her, snarling, angry. Vicious. But the worst part of this creature was its whalelike fangs, whalelike fangs sticking out of its beak. And they both seemed to be made of silver.

  “You must be Kiki,” said Annika with a loud gulp.

  25.

  Crumbling Plans

  Blackburn! thought Bolt. He’s here! Bolt hadn’t spotted Annika, but she must be nearby, too. If not . . . he wouldn’t think about it. She was fine. She had to be. But Bolt wouldn’t be fine if they couldn’t dispatch the dozen toothbrush-wielding penguins standing between them and Dr. Walzanarz. He became more optimistic, though, with every shout of “Borscht!” and the panicked penguin squawk that inevitably followed.

  But even Blackburn’s impressive fighting skills wouldn’t be enough to take down the whole platoon of penguins on their own.

  “Can’t you control them?” Grom asked, fists up. “I thought you were like, ‘Do this, I’m a penguin,’ and they’d be like, ‘Whatever you say’?”

  “Yeah, I’m working on it,” said Bolt, but his thoughts still went nowhere. He had to push his mind past those silver mirrors somehow.

  The penguins hissed and stomped forward. As one of them swept a toothbrush forward, both Bolt and Grom leapt backward.

  No! We are family! Love! And other things like that! Bolt thought. But it was no use. Bolt’s commands bounced off their heads. He could send his thoughts to the whale instead—that poor whale—but that wouldn’t do much good.

  What else was part of the penguin-verse?

  Werepenguins! Werepenguins were part of the penguin-verse, of course. Dr. Walzanarz didn’t wear a head mirror. Bolt sent his thoughts hurtling toward her. You can be a force of good. Of love. You don’t have to rule!

  “I am a werepenguin!” bellowed the dentist. “Ruling is what I do.”

  It doesn’t have to be. Life can be wonderful. Or vonderful. You can even speak with a strange fake accent.

  “Really?” said the dentist, and Bolt felt her anger subside, just a smidge. There was still, like, 95 percent anger in there, but Bolt felt a small indentation cutting through her resolve.

  You can’t persuade her, Bolt. The dentist is mine. They are all mine!

  That voice was not Bolt’s, nor Dr. Walzanarz’s, but it rattled inside both of their heads. The Stranger, wherever he was, had joined the fight.

  Bolt fought back, sending his thoughts soaring at the whale dentist. No. You don’t need to do this. Forget about this giant fish fryer.

  “But I like fried fish,” said Dr. Walzanarz, pouting.

  Well, we’ll figure something out then.

  No! The Stranger shouted into their heads once more. We are better than humans. We are meant to fight and hate! Our silver-toothed penguin army shall rule!

  Don’t listen to him! You can be a source of goodness! insisted Bolt.

  “I can?” Dr. Walzanarz asked, confused. “Are you sure?”

  Yes, definitely! Bolt maintained his bombardment of voiceless arguing. Listen to me. Do what I say! Stand your army down and give me that silver tooth in your pocket.

  “You might be onto something,” the dentist admitted, moving her hand toward her breast pocket.

  See, Bolt? The Stranger’s voice echoed inside Bolt’s head and his head alone now. Doesn’t it feel good to take control? Doesn’t it feel good to control all penguins?

  Bolt had to admit it did feel sort of nice. Maybe he could get used to controlling other werepenguins, and penguins, and whatever else he could think of. Everyone would do what Bolt wanted. He would be in charge!

  What was Bolt thinking? That wasn’t what he wanted! Snap! His connection with the dentist severed, and the Stranger seemed to have drifted away, too. Bolt blinked, breathing heavy—controlling minds was draining.

  Meanwhile, Blackburn had joined them, fighting his way through the throngs of penguins. But there were so many more!

  “Borscht!” said Blackburn. “If we survive this, I’m definitely retirin’.”

  “The good news is we probably won’t survive this,” said Bolt. “So you won’t have to worry about it.”

  Penguins stomped forward, head mirrors firmly in place, angry scowls on their faces. Bolt backed up, reaching the long, retractable metal pier that stretched into the middle of the pool. Grom and Blackburn backed up next to him.

  “I’m Grom,” he said to the pirate. “You got very nice sideburns.”

  “Thank ye for noticing,” said Blackburn. “That’s what I’d like on me tombstone, by the way: Here lies Blackburn the pirate. He had very nice sideburns. It looks like I’ll be needing that tombstone sooner than I’d like, though. Borscht!”

  They walked backward down the pier, hot oil bubbling along either side of them. A drip landed on Bolt’s shoulder and immediately burned through his shirt.

  They reached the end of the gangway, where, above them, hung the whale. Bolt could hear its leather harness tearing, the claw’s rusty metal screeching, and the nuts and bolts straining.

  Blackburn stood in front of Bolt and Grom, poised to fight, as a penguin soldier rushed forward and barreled right into his stomach. Blackburn stumbled back and swung his mop wildly, arms flailing, accidentally knocking the penguin’s head mirror off.

  The penguin raised its toothbrush as if it were some sort of battle-ax. Blackburn was still off-balance, and raised his mop weakly to try to parry the blow, but the effort looked like it would be futile.

  Bolt blinked and glanced at the penguin’s head mirror, now sitting on the ground.

  Don’t! Don’t hit him! Bolt thought, his orders clear, with nothing to block them.

  The penguin swung its toothbrush to the side, missing the pirate by a good two feet.

  Blackburn regained his composure while the penguin blinked in confusion. Bolt could read the penguin’s thoughts as clearly as you are reading this chapter. They were hurtful thoughts, ones wanting to obey the dentist and harm others. Bolt twisted them around inside its brain. This is not you.

  Other penguins stepped forward, at least twenty of them. Bolt hadn’t thought he and his friends had a sliver of a chance to survive. But that’s exactly what they had. Slivers. And cracks.

  “The head mirrors!” Bolt shouted. “Go for the head mirrors!”

  “Then how will they see our back molars during a dental appointment?” Blackburn asked.

  “Just do it!” Bolt shouted.

  Blackburn swung his mop at the nearest penguin. Glass shattered from a broken mirror.

  “You don’t want to hurt us!” Bolt shouted, both out loud and through his telekinetic powers. The penguin lowered its toothbrush, looking around, dazed, as if waking up from a midday nap.

  Grom jumped next to Blackburn, swinging fists toward other penguins who waddled forward, dodging toothbrushes and slapping head mirrors a
skew.

  In the middle of the brawl, Bolt noticed some commotion off to the side of the pool. Annika! Bolt would have been overjoyed to see her had he not also seen who she was fighting: the silver-toothed penguin monstrosity, Kiki. Annika had fled up the metal staircase but was down on the ground now, the penguin crouching, ready to leap on top and crush her. Bolt couldn’t lose Annika. Not his best friend!

  “No!” he cried, spreading desperate thoughts into the fanged beast’s head. Leave her be! Stop! Back away! His thoughts bounced weakly off Kiki’s silver teeth.

  Or did they? Did the beast hesitate, just for a moment? Had Bolt somehow broken through silver? No, that was impossible. Werepenguins couldn’t do that.

  Before Bolt could tell for sure, a sudden bark turned Bolt’s attention back to his own situation. Grom lay on the ground, moaning, his leg bleeding—a penguin guard must have overpowered him and now was headed for Bolt. But its head mirror dangled atop its head, shattered. Without thinking, Bolt screamed words into its head.

  Freeze!

  The penguin halted, frozen like a block of ice, just like Bolt had frozen Grom the day before, when they were in the mole hole.

  Bolt stared at the penguin. It was breathing but otherwise completely still. Bolt flicked his fingers, and the air seemed to curdle around them.

  Bolt felt the room inside him. It was as if the heat had sucked up penguin perspiration, and Bolt could feel every molecule in the air. The penguin-verse was here. It was everywhere.

  He held his hand up into a fist as a few more penguins rushed forward. Freeze! They stopped dead in their tracks. But there were still many more guards working their way around their unmoving comrades.

  “What are you doing?” shrieked Dr. Walzanarz, who had walked up the pier behind her penguins. She held her walkie-talkie and screamed into it. “I vant them vounded! Vrecked! Viped off the face of this earth!”

  The penguins didn’t move but instead looked back at her, blinking.