by Stuart Gibbs
“Thank goodness you did,” I said. “You saved us.”
Zoe’s face lit up with pride. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
We emerged from the lair and raced out of the rec center. Erica, Murray, and Nefarious were a good distance ahead of us, although I could still hear Murray. “How could they even think of me as a loose end? I’m not a loose end! I’m a core part of the team!”
“Maybe they got tired of hearing you whine all the time,” Erica told him. “I’ve only been with you a few minutes and I’m ready to blow you up.”
High up in the sky overhead, I could see the missile. It looked somewhat like a comet, a red streak of fire and smoke bearing down on us.
Hidden Forest was eerily quiet. The battle wasn’t raging anymore.
“Did the CIA win?” I asked.
“Big-time,” Zoe told me. “It was pretty much over by the time we got here. All SPYDER’s guys were surrendering. Although most of them claimed they didn’t even know what SPYDER was. They said they were all independent contractors.”
“Most of them were. Where’s everyone now?”
“They evacuated,” Jawa said, running up from the basketball courts. Chip and Warren were with him. Chip had a large duffel bag slung over his shoulder that appeared to be crammed full of equipment.
Despite the urgency of the situation, I couldn’t help but smile upon seeing my friends.
“We should evacuate too!” Warren informed us. “It seems like something bad is about to happen to this place.”
“Then why are you still here?” Zoe asked.
“We were looking for you,” Chip told her.
“Aw,” Zoe gushed. “You guys are so sweet!”
“It was my idea,” Warren said.
“We have to move fast,” I told them. “There’s less than four minutes left till detonation.”
We all fell in together and ran for the closest exit, a hole the CIA had blasted in the wall in the construction zone.
“Who’s the dead chick?” Chip asked, pointing to Ashley.
“She’s not dead,” I told him. “She’s unconscious. And she’s a junior SPYDER agent.”
“She’s cute,” Chip said.
“Ugh!” Zoe cried. “Chip, she’s evil!”
“Maybe on the inside,” Chip told her. “But she’s cute on the outside.”
“Is that Ashley Sparks, the gymnast?” Warren asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “Though now she’s an evil gymnast.”
“She was my favorite!” Warren exclaimed. “She really should have been on the U.S. Olympic team. The judge was blind. She stuck that landing.”
“So I’ve heard,” I said.
We raced through the sports courts into the construction zone. Now, in addition to the usual construction detritus of bent nails and wood shavings, there was also a great deal of spent bullet casings.
Jawa glanced at the duffel bag Chip was carrying. “What’s in there?”
“Sporting goods,” Chip replied. “I got some primo rock-climbing gear, a couple of footballs, some bowling shoes . . . .”
“Hold on,” Warren said. “While we were busy looking for Ben and Zoe, you were stealing stuff?”
“If you take stuff from the bad guys, it doesn’t count as stealing,” Chip said proudly. “It’s payback.”
Warren started to argue this point, but he was interrupted by a sudden yelp of surprise from ahead.
“That sounded like Erica!” Jawa exclaimed.
I glanced across the construction zone and caught a glimpse of Nefarious and Murray sprinting for the hole in the wall. Murray was always easy to pick out because he had a very distinctive gait. He ran like he had a permanent stomach cramp.
However, Erica was nowhere to be seen.
I heaved Ashley off my shoulder and shoved her into Chip’s arms. “Take her to the authorities,” I ordered him, then told Jawa and Zoe, “Catch Murray and the other guy. I’ll find Erica.” I ran off before anyone could protest.
Jawa and Zoe took off after Murray and Nefarious. Both of them were good sprinters and they moved quickly. Chip wasn’t far behind them, even while holding Ashley. He was so strong, carrying the gymnast was like carrying a bag of potato chips. Since I hadn’t asked Warren to do anything, he simply ran for safety as fast as he could.
Above me, the fireball in the sky was growing quickly as the missile came closer.
I ran across the construction zone, trying to approximate what Erica’s route had been. “Erica!” I yelled into my walkie-talkie. “Where are you?”
Instead of using her own walkie-talkie to respond, Erica simply shouted through the construction site. “Never mind me! There’s no time! Save yourself!”
I scanned the dark landscape around me but couldn’t find any sign of her. “Darn it, Erica. Just tell me where you are!”
“No!”
I pinpointed the sound. It was coming from my right. I ran in that direction—and almost pitched into one of the missile silos. The hole was just darkness in the other shadows, perfectly concealed.
Erica was four feet down, clinging to the cement rim of the silo. There was nothing but a three-story drop below her.
I’d expected that she would have been thrilled to see me. Instead, she frowned. “Go away!” she yelled. “If you try to help me, we’ll both die!”
“I’m not leaving you!” I yelled back, searching the area for anything of use. “You’re my friend.”
“I told you, having friends in this business only causes trouble.”
I ignored her. There was a generator nearby. It had been shot to pieces in the battle, but the electrical cord was still attached. I tore the cord loose, wrapped one end around my waist, and tossed the other end into the hole. “Grab this!”
“No. I’ll pull you in.”
“Just grab it! Or we’ll die!”
The missile was now close enough to see, silhouetted against its own flame.
I sat on the ground. There was nothing to hold on to nearby except grass. I grabbed on tight and hoped for the best.
It didn’t work. The moment Erica put her weight on the cord, the grass tore free. I slid quickly toward the hole, desperately digging my heels into the dirt, and barely managed to stop myself mere inches from the edge. The cord tightened around my waist, squeezing my abdomen so hard I though my organs might get forced out my nose.
Thankfully, Erica was quick and agile. It took only a few seconds for her to scramble out of the hole. Instead of relief, there was embarrassment on her face. “You’re an idiot,” she told me.
Then she helped me to my feet and we ran.
“What happened back there?” I asked.
“Murray got the jump on me.”
I started to ask how, but she told me, “Save your breath. We’ll talk later.”
It was good advice. Since I’d arrived at spy school, there had been several times when I’d had to run for my life—but this time, I had to run even faster. My legs pumped harder than ever before, fueled by fear and adrenaline. Construction sites and earth-moving machines flew past us. Then we were out the gap in the wall I’d made with the bulldozer and into the field beyond. But as fast as we were going, it still wasn’t enough to outrun the missile.
It was coming in with astonishing speed, growing exponentially in size as it hurtled down out of the sky.
Erica’s hand was suddenly holding mine, clutching it tight. “Take cover!” she yelled, then yanked me into an irrigation ditch.
I curled into a ball and, before I could stop her, Erica curled around me protectively.
The missile came down right on the rec center.
I had my eyes shut tight, but I still felt almost blinded by the flash of white light that surrounded us. The noise was so loud, my whole body vibrated, and then the shock wave from the explosion pummeled me as well. The ground shook. A wave of heat rolled over us. I could sense things tearing apart and flying past.
And then, maybe because of the explosion, or may
be because I’d already almost drowned once that night and was in a delicate state, or maybe because I was just completely and totally exhausted . . .
I passed out.
• • •
I regained consciousness sometime later, but I was still disoriented and groggy. There was an incredible amount of activity going on at once, and I was able to process only snatches of it all. My ears were still ringing from the blast, so I couldn’t really hear anything anyone was saying.
I was in the diner down the road from Hidden Forest, lying on top of a table.
CIA agents were everywhere. Apparently, they had commandeered the place.
I had an IV stuck in my arm and a few bandages, but otherwise, my body seemed fine. All my arms and legs were accounted for.
Erica was lying next to me. She appeared to be in similar condition, although she was still unconscious.
Our hands were still clasped together tightly. I thought about pulling mine from hers, then decided against it.
A bank of TV monitors had been erected near the soda fountain. They were showing the local news. On every station, there were helicopter shots of the gaping hole the missile had left in the ground. Bits of Hidden Forest were still there: collapsed homes, burning lawns, a few stretches of wall. The gatehouse had somehow managed to escape unscathed. The rec center and all the missile silos were gone, though. The missile had vaporized them all, wiping any trace of SPYDER off the earth.
The news crawl at the bottom of one screen said GAS LEAK DESTROYS GATED COMMUNITY. CIA disinformation at work.
Nearby, Cyrus and Alexander were seated in a booth with several CIA agents around them. It didn’t look like they were in trouble. In fact, the agents were shaking their hands and slapping them on their backs. One man, who looked a little older than Cyrus and somewhat important, was laughing and shaking his head, as though he was amused by everything that had happened.
Mr. Wigglebottom sat in Alexander’s lap. Evidently, the cat had stuck around the diner after we’d left it there yesterday. Alexander wasn’t paying much attention to anyone else. He was too focused on the cat, lovingly stroking its fur and making kissy faces at it.
Agent Rafferty stood nearby, scowling at Cyrus.
The principal was with him, looking confused. He’d gotten himself a new toupee to replace the one that had been burned when his office blew up. Amazingly, this one was actually worse. It looked as though a hamster had died on his head.
Out the window, a CIA paddy wagon was parked in front of the diner. Ashley Sparks was being loaded inside, her hands cuffed behind her back. She had regained consciousness and was screaming at everyone. I thought I could make out the words “I stuck the landing.”
Zoe, Chip, Jawa, and Warren sat in a corner booth, away from the action. To my surprise, Nefarious was with them. He was cuffed as well, but he looked far happier than Ashley. He wasn’t an outcast anymore; he was the center of attention. He was talking animatedly—spilling his guts about SPYDER, perhaps—and my friends were hanging on his every word, fascinated.
There was no sign of Murray Hill. He had apparently escaped. And Joshua Hallal certainly wasn’t there. He’d probably been in another country when the missiles fired. Along with the rest of the higher-ups at SPYDER.
I was too tired to feel frustrated about this. Instead, I felt proud of myself. Maybe the bad guys had escaped to fight another day, but for the time being, I’d helped thwart their plans once again. My first undercover mission had been a success.
Suddenly, Erica’s hand tensed in mine. I looked over at her.
She was awake now. Or at least, kind of awake. Her eyelids still drooped and she seemed a bit zoned out.
“Hey,” she said. She sounded oddly far away, even though she was only a few inches from me. It was probably due to my ears still recovering from the blast.
“Hey,” I replied. “How are you feeling?”
“Excellent. But that’s probably because they’ve given us painkillers.”
It occurred to me that this was probably why I felt so calm myself.
“Thanks for saving me,” Erica said. It was the type of comment she never would have made unless she was doped up on medication. “I owe you one.”
“How about this,” I suggested. “Next time you decide to bring me on a mission, you tell me about it first?”
“It’s a deal.” Erica’s eyes began to slide shut again. “In fact, next mission, I’ll ask them to make us equal partners.”
“Really?” I asked. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course. That’s what friends are for.” Erica gave me a dreamy smile, then dozed off again.
I wondered if she’d ever remember saying that. But for the time being, I was too tired to care. Even with all the chaos around me, I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep as well, Erica’s hand still firmly clenched in mine.
September 20
To: CIA Director Oliver Spindrift
Re: Operation Bedbug Mission Recap
While Operation Bedbug achieved its main objective—the discovery and subsequent thwarting of SPYDER’s plans—I hesitate to call it a success.
The identities of the top members of said organization remain a mystery, while Joshua Hallal and Murray Hill managed to escape. The people we did capture were mere pawns of the organization, though Nefarious Jones has been eager to share what he knows. Given his aid in deflecting the missiles, he might have some value as a future spy for us.
Sadly, Mr. Jones is unaware of what SPYDER’s future plans might be and any further evidence concerning those was destroyed in the explosion at their headquarters. Thus, it will require subsequent missions to determine what they are plotting next, although we can assume the organization suffered a severe financial loss from the failure of this endeavor.
Although Agent-to-be Ripley will no longer be able to work undercover at SPYDER, he certainly proved his mettle on this mission—and I’m not saying that simply because he saved my granddaughter’s life. Given their key contributions to Operation Bedbug and their adept handling of an unsanctioned mission, I suggest that both Erica and Benjamin should be reinstated as students at the Academy of Espionage—and be given top grades in Undercover Work as well.
In addition, I would highly recommend the services of Ben Ripley for future missions and suspect he would be a very good selection for Operation Snow Bunny.
One last item: I am somewhat concerned about this Mike Brezinski character. How much does he know? Let’s discuss options.
Sincerely,
Golden Bear
STUART GIBBS is the author of Belly Up and The Last Musketeer (both Junior Library Guild Selections) and the Edgarnominated Spy School, Spy Camp, and Poached. He has also written the screenplays for movies like See Spot Run and Repli-Kate; developed TV shows for Nickelodeon, Disney Channel, ABC, and Fox; and researched capybaras (the world’s largest rodents). He has never worked as a spy or thwarted the plans of an evil secret organization bent on world domination—but then, if he had, he couldn’t tell you anyway, because it’d be classified. Stuart lives with his wife and children in Los Angeles. You can learn more about what he is up to at stuartgibbs.com.
Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Simon & Schuster New York
Meet the author, watch videos, and get extras at
KIDS.SimonandSchuster.com
authors.simonandschuster.com/Stuart-Gibbs
Also by Stuart Gibbs
Belly Up
Poached
Spy School
Spy Camp
Space Case
WE HOPE YOU LOVED READING THIS EBOOK!
We have SO many more books for kids in the in-beTWEEN age that we’d love to share with you! Sign up for our IN THE MIDDLE books newsletter and you’ll receive news about other great books, exclusive excerpts, games, author interviews, and more!
CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP
or visit us online to sign up at
eBookNews.SimonandSchuste
r.com/middle
SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2015 by Stuart Gibbs
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event.
For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.
Book design and illustration by Lucy Ruth Cummins
Map illustration by Ryan Thompson
Jacket design and principal illustration by Lucy Ruth Cummins
Brushed-steel flap texture copyright © 2015 by Thinkstock.com
The text for this book is set in Adobe Garamond Pro.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Gibbs, Stuart, 1969–
Evil spy school / Stuart Gibbs. — First edition.
pages cm
Sequel to: Spy camp.
Summary: After getting expelled from spy school for accidentally shooting a live mortar into the principal’s office, thirteen-year-old Ben finds himself recruited by evil crime organization SPYDER.