Football Champ (2009)

by Tim Green

  "What are you saying?" Nathan asked. "You can keep cool or you can't. It's cold in there. The buzzing in your brain must be back pretty bad."

  "My brain's fine. It's cold because of these huge AC vents," Troy said. "They take the air through the whole building, so they're huge. The one in Gumble's office is big enough for a kid to fit in. The vent is right over his desk. You guys could take the camera and get up in there and get the whole thing with Gumble, both audio and video. He'll never know."

  "We can't just get into the vent," Tate said, puckering her lips.

  Troy looked up at the roof and took a couple steps back. He pointed to the Dumpster.

  "Why not? We could climb up on top of the Dumpster and I could help boost you guys up," Troy said. "Gumble's office is in the back corner of the building, almost right under that unit."

  "But we can't just crawl inside the AC vent," Tate said.

  "Actually," Nathan said, staring up at it and narrowing his eyes, "we could."

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  "WE COULD?" TATE ASKED.

  Nathan looked at her and nodded.

  "Yeah?" Tate said, raising one eyebrow. "Okay, Einstein, how?"

  "My dad works for We Cool It," Nathan said.

  "So?" Tate said, stamping her foot impatiently.

  "You remember when we did that Take Your Children to Work Day thing at school, where we had to go with our mom or dad and write a report on what they do?" Nathan asked.

  "Sure," Tate said.

  "Well," Nathan said, "me and my dad spent the day up on a roof like this, working on a big AC unit on the blink. One of the things they thought it might have been was all this sheetrock dust that got into the vents and was jamming up the electronics, so I had to crawl in there with my dad and clean the whole thing out."

  "We don't have any tools," Tate said.

  "Don't need them," Nathan said. "There should be a panel for the main duct, so you can just loosen a screw or two or even just turn a lever and you're inside. It's easy. You won't believe how big it is in there."

  "It'll be dark," Tate said.

  Nathan pointed to the light clamped onto the stem of his handlebars and said, "This thing comes right off. We can use it."

  Troy didn't wait. He handed the backpack to Nathan, turned, and climbed up the side of the nearest Dumpster, eyeing the distance to the lip of the roof. Nathan unclipped the light from his bike and added it to the pack before pulling it on over his shoulders. Then he and Tate followed Troy until the three of them stood atop the thick metal cover.

  Nathan pinched his nose. "Man, this stinks!"

  "It's about to get worse," Troy said, working his fingers under the far lip of the second Dumpster's metal cover.

  "Don't do that!" Nathan said as Troy raised the cover, exposing a pile of rotten filth.

  Troy twisted his face and blinked at the harsh stink, wondering what could have made a smell so bad. But he balanced his feet on the edge and kept raising the lid, pushing it up hand over hand and doubling it back until it fell open. The lid clunked against the brick wall three-quarters of the way up toward the roof.

  "It's like a dead skunk," Tate said, waving her hand in front of her nose and squinting her eyes from atop the first Dumpster.

  "It's like pig barf," Nathan said, covering his face with both hands.

  "We can use it to climb up to the roof," Troy said, peering into the open metal container and seeing a mound of broken trash bags whose spilled contents included empty cans, crushed milk cartons, old takeout boxes, baby diapers, and moldy pieces of rotten fruit, all in a soup of green slime.

  Troy turned when he heard Nathan make a weird animal noise. Nathan doubled over and lost his lunch in a huge splat on the Dumpster's plate-metal cover.

  "Oh my God," Tate said, pinching her nose and turning away.

  "You okay?" Troy asked Nathan.

  "Much better now," Nathan said, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Troy shook his head and patted his hand against the metal ribbing on the underside of the second Dumpster's lid and said, "Well, come on then."

  Carefully, Troy scaled the underside of the lid. When he reached the top, he wedged his toes into the narrow foothold between the lid and the brick wall and reached back to help Tate. She scrambled up like a lemur, and with Troy giving her a boost, in less than a minute she was looking back down at them from the roof.

  "Aw, man," Nathan said as he begin to climb one-handed so that he could use his free hand to cover his nose.

  "You'd better use two hands," Troy said, reaching down so he could grab Nathan's wrist and help pull him up.

  "Uh-uh," Nathan said, shaking his head, the words garbled by his hand. "I'm not upchucking again."

  "I'm telling you," Troy said.

  It was at that moment Nathan's foot slipped. His eyes went wide as salad plates, and he grasped for Troy with both hands.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  TROY STRAINED TO PULL Nathan up, horrified at the thought of his friend falling into the rotten mess below. By the look on his face, he could see that Nathan was even more horrified, but once Troy had him going in the right direction, Nathan scrambled up the lid as fast as Tate had.

  The two of them peered down at Troy while he made his way back to the first Dumpster, carefully sidestepping Nathan's puke. Troy pinched his nose and signaled okay. Then the two of them disappeared from Troy's sight. After a couple minutes, they reappeared, both giving him a thumbs-up.

  "He got it," Tate said. "He knew right where to go. And it is huge in here. Go ahead. You get in there and give it to that Gumble."

  "You sure you guys are okay?" Troy asked. "The video camera, all that?"

  Nathan reached over his shoulder and patted the backpack. "We're cool."

  "Don't worry, we'll be right there," Tate said. "But get going now. The stink from that Dumpster is pretty bad up here, and I think it's only a matter of time before it's going to get into the vents."

  "You got it," Troy said, sounding a lot more confident than he felt.

  His two friends disappeared and Troy climbed down, glad to be away from the stench of the Dumpsters but wishing he could trade places with them, safe up in the vent while he'd be face-to-face with a guy he knew must be evil to the bone. He walked along the building, past the BMW, and around the front corner to the mostly empty storefronts of the brand-new shopping center.

  As he reached for the glass door in the front of Gumble's office, a heavy middle-aged woman on crutches appeared, struggling through the inner door. She wore no cast on her leg, but her face was twisted in pain.

  "Thank you, honey," she said as Troy held the outer door for her. "You're a gentleman."

  "You're welcome," Troy said. "Uh, did you hear anything in the AC vent when you were in there?"

  The woman looked at him as if he'd asked her if she'd like to take a trip to the moon.

  "No," she said, drawing the word out long and low.

  "Thanks," Troy said, and headed inside. He walked carefully down the long hallway, put his ear to the door, and listened for a minute before taking one final deep breath and walking into Gumble's office.

  Gumble stood over a long box covering the top of his desk, packing away his skeleton. He wore the same lab coat, but this time with a red cardigan sweater over his crisp white T-shirt. His face looked even more like the color of a carrot than Troy remembered. The bleached-blond hair on his head contrasted sharply with the brown filaments sprouting from his neck and arms. After tucking the left arm of the skeleton into the box, Gumble looked up.

  He stared for a minute with his cold blue eyes, processing who Troy was, before he pointed a finger and asked, "What are you doing here?"

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  TROY'S EYES DARTED TO the air vent above Gumble's desk. He could see nothing behind the grate except empty blackness until he moved his head to one side and spotted the tiny power light from the video camera. Troy knew it was showtime.

 
"I want to know why you lied about Seth," Troy said, stepping toward the desk and pointing right back at the shady doctor. "Seth never used steroids!"

  "Where is Seth?" Gumble asked, his eyes searching the doorway behind Troy.

  "Not here," Troy said. "You're ruining his career and I want to know why."

  "You got a brass bottom, you know that, kid?" Gumble said, returning his glare to Troy. "Who do you think you are, barging in here like this? I got an appointment coming in."

  "That was my friend who called you," Troy said, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm your appointment."

  "I ought to send your mother a bill for this," Gumble said. "You know that?"

  "You ought to tell the truth is what you ought to do."

  "What's it to you?"

  "Seth is a good person," Troy said. "He never did anything wrong except trust you. So you did lie, didn't you?"

  Gumble looked around and snorted. "Yeah, I lied. So what? You see this?"

  Gumble wagged his head around, and Troy saw the skeleton wasn't the only thing that had been boxed up.

  "Seth Halloway isn't the only one in hot water," Gumble said. "It wasn't my idea to smear him with dirt, but Peele gave me time to get out of town if I went along with it."

  Troy gave him a puzzled look.

  "I'm out of here, kid," Gumble said. "Peele dug a little too deep into my past, found out I lost my license back in Ohio, then Nevada, before I came here."

  "You're not even a doctor?" Troy said.

  "Sure I am, kid," Gumble said with a crooked smile. "Once a doctor, always a doctor. So I bought myself a free pass by turning Seth in for juicing."

  "Juicing?" Troy said.

  "Steroids."

  "But you didn't give him steroids," Troy said.

  Gumble rolled his hands over, palms up, fingers splayed out wide. "I'm sure he did them sometime, kid. What's the difference if I say he did them now?"

  "You don't know that," Troy said.

  "A lot of professional athletes do," Gumble said.

  "Well, Seth doesn't and never has, except for an injury," Troy said. "You lied."

  "Well, too bad for him," Gumble said. "What can I say? Crap happens, kid. You'll learn."

  "Peele asked you to lie?" Troy said. "That's what you're saying?"

  "Of course he did," Gumble said. "He made me lie. I got nothing against Seth Halloway, kid, but it's every man for himself. Halloway's got more money than Bill Gates, playing in the NFL all these years. He's near the end, anyway. He doesn't need it, but I do. I can't afford any more trouble following me around like a dog. I'm sorry, kid. I'm not a bad guy."

  "Oh yes you are," Troy said.

  A distant banging noise sounded in the vent. Troy thought of his friends, but the sudden blast of air-conditioning told him the noise had come from the AC unit itself. But what came out of the vent next was worse than a noise.

  Gumble froze and sniffed the air before crumpling his face.

  "What the heck is that smell?" Gumble said, and turned to stare up at the vent, where the light on Nathan's camera glowed like the red eye of a small rodent.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  GUMBLE CAST A QUICK, hateful look at Troy, then shoved the skeleton box so that it tipped and spilled its contents out onto the floor. The skull rolled to a stop at Troy's feet, grinning up at him with empty eye sockets. Gumble stepped up on his chair and then onto the desk so he could peer directly into the vent.

  With one hand pinching his nose, Gumble stabbed a finger at the vent and shouted, "You little balls of crap! I see what you're at! I'll get you!"

  Troy stood frozen as Gumble jumped down off the desk and leaped across the room, throwing open the door and disappearing out into the hallway. Troy heard the side door bang open as Gumble sprinted outside, heading for the Dumpsters in back.

  "Troy!" Tate shouted. "Oh my God! Is he coming?"

  "Yes," Troy said, the word coming out as a croak.

  "Get me out of here!" Nathan shouted.

  "Can he get in the vent?" Troy asked, suddenly alert, the whole picture of what was happening clear to him now.

  "Yes," Tate said, "it's open and the trapdoor is huge."

  Troy darted to the desk, tossing the chair out from behind it and kicking the bones out of his way. He put his shoulder to it. With all his strength, he began to push. Slowly the desk went. He shoved at it until it bumped into the wall, then hopped up on top of it so that he was staring into the frightened faces of Nathan and Tate.

  "Hurry!" Tate said. "I think I hear him!"

  Troy gripped the edges of the grate and tried to pull.

  "Kick it!" Troy shouted.

  "We can't turn around!" Nathan yelled back, but he wormed his way past Tate and began to bang on the grate from the inside with a fist, bowing it out.

  Troy saw the two thick screws holding it firm and cast his eyes back around the room. A screwdriver lay on the floor next to the skeleton's metal stand. Troy jumped down, snatched it, and leaped back up, attacking the screws with the tool.

  "Stop banging it," Troy said.

  "I'm not!" Nathan said.

  "Then what's that sound?" Troy asked, working frantically, the blade of the screwdriver slipping and gouging the wall.

  Troy held still.

  BANG. BANG. BANG.

  The hollow sound echoed through the vent.

  "It's him!" Tate screamed. "Troy! Help us!"

  Troy attacked the screw again, his hand shaking so hard he had to steady it with the other.

  "Hurry!" Nathan shouted.

  BANG. BANG. BANG.

  The sound kept getting closer.

  The first screw came free.

  BANG. BANG. Louder and louder, the sounds came quicker as Gumble increased the speed of his crawl.

  Troy attacked the second screw.

  BANG. BANG.

  It sounded like Gumble was nearly on top of them, and Troy heard the phony doctor cackle in an evil way. He turned the screw once, twice, then grabbed the grate and yanked with all his might, swinging it aside.

  Tate shot out like an otter. Troy caught her and dumped her down on the desk. Nathan scrabbled out from behind, his head, shoulders, and arms free. He tossed his camera to Tate before he froze and his face went white.

  Something sucked him back into the vent.

  "Ahhhh!" Nathan screamed, kicking.

  In the dark hole of the vent, beyond Nathan's wide-eyed, screaming face and thrashing legs, Troy could see the crazed smile and the hairy spider-arms of Doc Gumble gripping Nathan's ankles.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  NATHAN COILED HIS FREE LEG, and with a wild cry he let fly with a kick that would have made Chuck Norris proud. His heel connected with Gumble's nose. A popping sound exploded through the vent, and Nathan's foot came away from Gumble's face, spattered in blood.

  Nathan slithered free, then shot out of the vent just as Tate had, only when Troy tried to catch him, they both collapsed on the desk, then rolled off onto the floor amid the rattle of loose bones.

  "Get up!" Tate shouted, tugging at them.

  They scrambled to their feet and bolted out the office door. Troy guided them down a short hall that led to the side door, and they burst outside in front of the BMW, dashed around the corner, and grabbed their bikes.

  Troy sensed Gumble above them and looked up to see the phony doctor's bloody face, snarling at them as he swung his legs over the side of the roof. Troy, Nathan, and Tate started running with their bikes, wheeling to speed them up so they could jump on and keep going. Almost as one they swung their legs up and over their seats. Nathan was off fast, but Tate--trying to do the whole operation with the video camera still in hand--slipped and went crashing to the pavement. When Gumble's feet hit the lip of the Dumpster's open lid, he spun, bracing his hands against the brick wall, and leered at Tate's fallen bike.

  Tate lay on her back beneath the bike, extending the camera up in the air to show Troy she hadn't let it break.

  Gumble l
aughed and launched himself toward the closed top of the first Dumpster. Troy gasped. Gumble would jump down on Tate before she could get up.

  But if Tate was going down, Troy was going with her.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  WHEN GUMBLE'S FEET HIT the top of the Dumpster, they landed in the pool of Nathan's barf. Instead of coming to a stop, his feet flew up to the sky, right out from under him. Gumble's arms made pinwheels in the air, but he never had a chance. Backward he fell, right into the open Dumpster, with a sickening squish. Gumble howled and thrashed, trying to get out.

  Skidding to a sideways stop, Troy raced to Tate's side, then jumped off his bike to help her up and steady her.

  "You okay?" he asked, raising his voice above Gumble's wailing fury and disgust.

  Tate grinned at him, holding up the camera, and said, "I'm fine, and so is this. Come on."

  They started off and got halfway along the length of the shopping center before they heard Gumble shouting at them from the Dumpster.

  "You come back here!" he screamed. "Get back here, I said!"

  Troy shot a glance over his shoulder, grinning at the slimed-over form of the fake doctor. Gumble's white lab coat showed off the brown, yellow, and green filth from the Dumpster like an artist's blank canvas. A used diaper clung to his shoulder, and a glop of something rotten rested in his spiky hair like some foul bird in its nest.

  "See you on TV, Gumble!" Troy hollered, giggling to himself at how much Gumble reminded him of Peele when Seth had dumped him upside down into the trash can.

  Tate waved the camera up over her head and gave a war cry as they rounded the far corner of the shopping center and surged across the parking lot toward home.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  THEY DIDN'T CATCH UP to Nathan until they got to the Pine Grove Apartments.

  "Where'd you guys go? Sheesh," Nathan said. "Man, I never looked back until I got here and I'm like, 'What the heck happened?'"

  "Tate fell. She almost got caught," Troy said. "Nice going on Gumble's nose."