Khallie balanced on the wobbly chair, winding red and black wires around the pole of a dangling metal lamp.
Dory returned. “Weird. Those zombie kids scooped up the cat cages, and I barely escaped. Now they’re moving creepily fast back to that mechanical bridge.” She bent over and caught her breath. “What are you doing?”
“Saving the world, I hope,” Sam grunted as he pinned himself harder against the barricade.
“Could you reach into my messenger bag and pass me Owen’s pliers?” asked Khallie. “Um, quickly?”
Dory handed Khallie red-handled pliers.
“Do you think the zombie brigade got a signal to clear out?” Sam asked. His heart started hammering. Hurry, he thought but didn’t say.
Khallie snipped wires and then held the pliers in her teeth while she stretched and wound the black wire to the receiver. When she was done, she took the pliers out of her mouth. “I hope the receiver can hang from the ceiling like this. Did Owen say it would work if I left it hanging in the air?”
A deep thrumming began. The door behind Sam shook harder. “Are there any loose connections?”
Khallie tightened a screw. “No.”
BANG! SLAM!
“Turn the switch on!” Sam shouted. Dory threw herself against the barricade beside Sam as the door made a strange buckling motion, almost like an ocean wave.
The receiver’s red light blinked on. It pulsated three times. . .
Then the light turned green. Message sent.
The door exploded open, sending Dory and Sam up in the air and then down on their hands and knees a metre away.
The chair Khallie had been standing on toppled, and the table tipped over. Khallie held onto the pendant lamp, her legs bicycling in the air. A scream rose in Sam’s mouth like a bubble waiting to burst and then stuck there. He hadn’t known a person could be too terrified to scream.
From behind the gaping door, blinding green light poured out from the tunnel. Standing just inside were three silhouettes looking like something Sam had once seen in a carnival funhouse mirror.
It was as if Sam was watching a film in slow motion—it took so long for his brain to accept what his eyes were seeing. . .
The shadows were tall, really tall, with long, really long, thin legs and arms. Their silhouetted heads seemed too large, perched on necks that were too long. Their heads moved on those necks like bobble-head dolls. No, not quite, they swerved and swivelled like the ends of insect antennae.
“I’m going to puke.” Dory started retching.
Hanging from the lamp, Khallie spun her legs even faster, as if she was trying to run away.
Suddenly a high-pitched screech sounded from the depths of the tunnel, and the shadows disappeared.
Sam ran and grabbed Khallie’s legs, and together they tumbled to the ground. They jumped up and tore out of the basement. Dory scooped up Owen’s pack and took the steps two at a time. As they all raced out of Sinistrus Mansion, explosions rumbled beneath their feet.
Sam got ready to flee, but then he checked over his shoulder and saw Dory just standing there. “What?” he snapped.
“I . . . ” she shook her head. “I just need a minute.”
“We might not have a minute,” said Khallie. Sam couldn’t argue with that.
“I . . . want to make sure Angel and the others are okay.” Dory dodged behind the trees.
Sam drew a ragged breath. In his terror he’d panicked and forgotten all about the zombie kids. Khallie ran after Dory, and Sam followed on her heels.
They reached the end of the grounds and stumbled through the thicket. Then Sam almost slammed into Khallie. He looked over her and Dory’s shoulders.
“I don’t believe it,” Dory said. “It’s like the thing is alive.”
The mechanical bridge was moving, first like a wriggling snake forcing the last zombie kid, Angel, to jump. She waded waist-deep in the surf and held a cat cage over her head as she made it back to shore. Then the articulated metallic arm of the bridge writhed and rose out of the water, snapping and lashing.
“Like the tentacle of a giant squid,” Khallie said breathlessly.
The arm flipped backwards and crashed against the shore, shaking leaves off the arbutus tree they were under. Another gigantic splash and the arm dived under water in a boiling froth of foam.
“Run!” shouted Sam. They tore across the island as the ground beneath their feet buckled. Jumping over scrub, slashing their way through seagrass, tripping on rocks, they half-slid down the bluff. Dory stood up on shaky legs and gasped, “This pack weighs a ton.”
“Leave it,” said Sam.
“No way,” said Dory. She swallowed and caught her breath. “Your friend’s got enough parts in here for any emergency.” Huffing and puffing, she broke into another run. They scrambled across the rocks and ran onto the wharf.
Waves smashed against the rocks. The dilapidated dock moaned against the crashing surf. From out of nowhere a horrible storm had set in. Thunder boomed, lightning shot across the night sky, and green clouds rose from Sinistrus Mansion. Sam thought they looked like plumes of smoke from a witch’s giant cauldron.
“Get on the boat!” shouted Blake. “We thought you were goners.”
Peaceful Dream bobbed like a bathtub toy as the waves grew large and menacing. The surface of the island trembled, and more rocks began sliding and rolling into the water. Sam undid the casting line and held it taut as Khallie and Dory leaped from the swaying dock onto the boat.
Sam reached for the edge of the sailboat, only for the wharf to sway to the other side. Then he did a running leap and jumped, but missed, grabbing the rail. He started sliding.
An arm shot out and grabbed him by the elbow, and Khallie hauled him on board. “Told you I’ll do the rescuing,” she smiled.
“I recall fending off a few zombies and aliens for you,” Sam shot back.
“You’re right. We have each other’s backs.” Khallie nodded.
“Hey, Owen, if ever there’s an apocalypse, I want to be on your team,” said Dory. She handed him back his pack. Owen grinned as he pulled on the throttle. But the engine didn’t turn.
“I knew we’d used too much gas.” Blake shook his head. “No worries. Hoist the main sail.”
“How?” asked Sam.
“Pull that mast thing toward you, no, um, that one. I think. Ah, yank off those blue cloth ties and unfurl the main sail.”
Peaceful Dream crept away from the dock as Blake steered the rudder with the tiller, and Owen, Sam, and Khallie operated the main sail. Dory hung over the edge of the boat. Sam heard more retching. Dory sat up suddenly and pointed to the choppy waves.
“What’s that?”
Orange and yellow balls of light pulsated below the surface of the water, getting rounder and brighter until the ocean radiated with an eerie glow. From below the surface, a deep rumbling sounded as though the sea bed was splitting apart.
“Now that’s a slowdown echo!” cried Blake over the thundering roar. The water around them whipped and boiled, splashing onto the deck as huge, frothy waves bounced the sailboat around.
Peaceful Dream tossed and rolled as it circled toward a giant whirlpool.
× 31 ×
A TERRIBLE NIGHTMARE
SAM TRIED HANGING onto the deck railing as the sailboat tipped up and down, and then swayed starboard and port. They were being tossed back and forth across the deck like Ping-Pong balls.
“We’ve got to pull out of this.” Blake used both hands to yank the tiller, directing their sailboat away from the whirlpool. For every metre he gained, they lost two as the whirlpool grew larger.
“Angle the jib sail parallel to the main sail!” Owen shouted over the roar. “That will give us more speed.”
“Huh?” shouted Sam. Owen did a lot of pointing.
Waves crashed against their sailboat’s hull. The jib sail flapped above Sam’s head as he pulled the rope.
“Secure that rope on the clam cleat beside you,�
� shouted Owen.
The rope left burns along Sam’s palms. Peaceful Dream tipped menacingly on its side as Khallie, Dory, and Owen hung on. Salt spray coated Sam’s face.
“Peaceful Dream,” groaned Dory. “This boat should be called Terrible Nightmare.” Her face was as green as the fog that surrounded them.
A huge clap of thunder exploded over their heads and wind whipped around, slashing the sails.
“Prepare to jib!” shouted Owen.
“Huh?” asked Khallie.
“Watch out for the boom!” Blake shouted, and Sam and Khallie ducked just in time as the horizontal beam extending from the mast swung across the deck.
“Tack!” shouted Blake.
Sam reached for the rope Owen was pointing to and pulled it tight.
“Jib again,” Blake ordered.
Sam leaped to the other side of the sailboat and grabbed the rope for the jib sail. Back and forth, back and forth, Owen and Sam tacked and jibbed. Khallie held the winch, and whenever the sail rope was too hard to pull, she’d stick the winch in the clam cleat and torque the rope.
Peaceful Dream tipped port side, then back to starboard.
“I bet we’re travelling eight knots,” Owen said, sounding impressed.
“How fast is that in regular speed?” asked Kallie.
“Too fast,” groaned Dory, clutching her stomach.
Sam pulled the rope. “Winch,” he called, and Khallie handed him the metal lever that fit inside the cleat. Then he torqued it. He torqued hard.
They pulled out of the whirlpool’s deathly trap.
“We’re tilting too close to the water,” shouted Owen. Waves crested the boat rails and water splashed on deck. “Blake, take your hands off the tiller and the boat will sail into the wind, righting itself!”
“Oh, yeah,” said Blake. He eased up on the tiller. The boat bobbed upright. “Good call.”
There was the sound of a huge fan blasting, and the air around them swirled and shredded the green fog.
“Look!” Owen shouted.
Barely visible in the swirling green light, Sam spotted two gigantic, triangular objects breaking out of the water and rising. The fog formed into two treacherous funnel clouds looming above. The shadows hovered for only a split second, shot straight up, and then disappeared.
For several minutes everyone stayed silent as they sailed around the corner of the island and toward the mainland.
“Did we just kick alien butt?” Blake held fast to the tiller.
Sam was glad he wasn’t too terrified to laugh.
× 32 ×
WE COULD HAVE A BLAST
THEY CROSSED the breakwater and sailed smoothly to the shore and back to the yacht club wharf. Sam thought they almost docked the boat perfectly. There was only a minor collision and a small scratch on Peaceful Dream’s hull.
“My dad’s gonna kill me,” said Blake.
“Yeah, well, I’m sure that’s overdue,” Khallie smirked. “You’ve been getting away with murder for way too long.”
“Maybe,” Blake said.
Sam and Khallie leaped off Peaceful Dream, and as Sam tied the rope to the wharf, Khallie pulled the wheelchair down the ramp until she was beside the boat.
Uneasiness crossed Khallie’s face. “Do you need me to. . .?”
Blake shook his head fiercely, but then his face softened. “No, I think I’ll be fine with help from my new sailing crew,” he said, nodding at Sam and Owen.
“Seriously?” Owen’s eyes widened.
“Want to join the sailing team with me?” asked Blake. “The three of us could smoke the competition.”
“I’m in,” Sam said enthusiastically. How could he be afraid of a sailing competition? He’d just beaten back an alien invasion.
“Ahem,” said Khallie.
“I mean, the four of us,” Blake corrected himself. Then he looked Dory’s way. “Or. . . ”
“Don’t even say it.” Dory still looked green—and it wasn’t any reflection from the fog. “I’m not crossing water deeper than my ankles for a very long time.”
While Dory drove Khallie and Owen home, Sam pushed Blake’s wheelchair along the ramp and back to Blake’s street. Going up was definitely not as fun as coming down.
The black and still night made it seem as if the last hours had never happened. Even the fog had lifted. Clouds scudded across the sky, revealing a gold harvest moon sinking into the horizon and a scattering of stars around Orion’s Belt.
Except . . . stargazing would never be the same again.
As they rounded the corner behind Blake’s house, Sam detected shaking leaves in the hedge beside Blake’s property. Someone was behind the bush. Blake stopped, and Sam parted the branches.
“Hello, Professor,” Sam said.
Professor Marigold turned around and stepped away from the bluff. He’d been yanking his hydrophone out of the ocean, and it dangled in his hand, covered in briny-smelling kelp and dripping salt water onto the ground.
“Hello, boys,” he said pleasantly, as if it wasn’t the middle of the night, and as if they hadn’t just fought back an alien invasion.
“So I guess you know, Professor,” Sam said awkwardly. “The plan worked.”
“Well done,” Professor Marigold said. “Have a nice evening.” He packed the hydrophone into his black leather satchel.
That was it? That’s all he had to say?
Blake shot forward in his wheelchair.
“Professor Marigold, I was, ah, wondering . . . ”
“Yes?” The little man adjusted his glasses and stared intently. He was eye-level with Blake.
“You seem to know a lot about advanced technology, and I was wondering if you could make a diagram or write some instructions that would make me as good as new.” Blake’s face was guarded.
“You seem quite good already and reasonably new in human years. Do you mean new as in using your legs?” asked the professor.
“Yes, so I can run and ski and do high jumps again,” explained Blake.
Professor Marigold sighed softly. “Son, this planet is young, and your Class Three-Quarters Civilization is still violent. I’m afraid people have a way to go before certain technology wouldn’t be misused.”
Blake waited.
“If a diagram of the wrong technology fell into the wrong hands,” the professor explained, “it would be like giving a five-year-old a button that would detonate an atomic bomb. . . only worse.”
Sam thought of Molly. Sweet little Molly—yeah, that would be a total disaster!
“I . . . understand,” Blake said quietly. He turned his wheelchair.
“Wait,” said the professor. “People here are very smart. Even children on this planet can outwit a Class One Civilization.”
“I’d say those aliens were a Class One and a Half, sir,” corrected Sam.
“Interesting,” said the professor. He adjusted his lab coat. In a softer tone he said, “Well, the Class Three-Quarters Civilization that we have here is on the verge of amazing discoveries. Yes, just around the corner there will be big medical advances. And I expect with hard work and time and physiotherapy, you’ll make progress, Blake.”
The professor turned and scurried away, his black leather satchel flapping behind him.
Blake called after him, “That’s good to hear.” Then he muttered, “Even if it’s no different than what my doctors told me.”
Blake looked at Sam. “I was hoping I could be like a regular person even sooner.”
Sam didn’t know what to say, but the soft voice inside him whispered, Sammy, don’t just stand there. You have to say something.
“Is anyone really a regular person?” Sam shrugged.
Blake cocked his head. “Yeah, I get it, but I love sports.”
“Like rowing in dangerous currents,” agreed Sam.
“And sailing.” Blake’s face lit up.
“Don’t forget bobsledding,” Sam grinned. “Only snow would work better than sand.”
&
nbsp; “That’s true.” Blake smiled. “We could have a blast.”
A light turned on in the upstairs window of Blake’s house. “I’d better go.” He rolled his chair to the elevator his parents had set up at the back of the house. “See you soon, Sam.”
“Psst, Sam, do you think you might want to hustle a little?” Dory had left her car parked down the street. “If Babcia discovers we’re out, we’re toast. Remember, Dad’s coming home soon.”
Sam had forgotten all about that. He’d felt such relief at solving the mystery of Croaker Island’s phantom echoes, he’d forgotten about his other problems.
Sam and Dory drove home in complete silence.
× 33 ×
A BEAUTIFUL FRIENDSHIP
“SAM, SAMMY, SAM-SAM, wake up!” Sam groaned. He opened his bleary eyes and gazed at his little sister staring at him, nose to nose. Something furry batted his cheek. Pix.
“What?” He tried to turn over, which didn’t work so well with Pix on his stomach.
“A big surprise, Sammy, c’mon,” Molly tugged at his quilt.
Sam sat up. “What surprise?”
“I’m not allowed to say.” Molly’s chin dimpled even when she frowned. “But I will give you one hint. It’s someone we’ve been missing a lot.”
“Dad?”
“Was that too big of a hint?” Molly’s brow creased with worry. “I’m not supposed to ruin the surprise.”
Sam shot out of bed and shooed Molly and Pix out of his room. He yanked on his jeans and T-shirt, and then tugged his least brightly coloured sweater over his head.
The kitchen was deserted, the dishes had even been washed, and the clock said 10:30. He could smell leaves burning out back. Sam rushed into the yard.
Babcia, Dory, and Molly stood on the grass under the steely grey sky. Babcia appeared . . . wary, and so did Dory. Only Molly beamed.
Captain Jake Novak had heaped piles of leaves and branches and lit a big bonfire. The sharp tang of leaf-smoke billowed. His father had just arrived and had already cleaned up the backyard!
“You’ve been AWOL, soldier,” said his father. “Sleeping your life away while we’ve been waiting for you. Grab some more branches and help me with this fire.”
The Mystery of Croaker's Island Page 13