Super Schnoz and the Gates of Smell

by Gary Urey

  “Try it on,” Jimmy said.

  I slipped the rubber bands over my ears and pulled the mask over my face. The beak fit perfectly over my nose while still leaving room to flare my nostrils for flight.

  “I love it,” I said.

  “Awesome!” TJ squealed. “The beak totally disguises your nose. You can’t tell it’s you!”

  “You look like some freaky bird,” Mumps said.

  I took off the mask and pointed to the tip of my nose. The others bent over until all of our noses were touching.

  “On the count of three,” I said. “One, two, three,”

  “SUPER SCHNOZ!” we all screamed.

  The pact was complete.

  Our vow of secrecy sealed with a sniff.

  15

  DISASTER SITE

  The third week of April was Spring Break. That meant no classes for seven glorious days! Principal Cyrano wanted to cancel the break because of the school situation, but the teachers already had the time off written in their contract.

  Some kids went to special day camps at the YMCA for the week; others hopped on a plane for a Disney vacation with their parents. The Not-Right Brothers and I spent the time off riding our bicycles, casing Durante Elementary. Vivian couldn’t come because she had to visit her sick grandmother for a couple of days.

  We pedaled up and down the street, checking things out. I didn’t want to attract attention, so I didn’t wear my Super Schnoz costume. A tall metal fence topped with razor wire surrounded the school property. Armed men with snarling dogs guarded the place. We watched as a fleet of bulldozers, forklifts, backhoes, drilling machines, and other construction equipment so specialized we didn’t know what they were for ripped apart our school. Dozens of workers crawled around the school like a colony of ants. They wore hard hats and safety glasses, poring over construction blueprints. The sounds of jackhammers, loud whistles, and excavators blasted in our ears.

  We parked our bikes behind the baseball field across from the school. Jimmy brought a pair of binoculars so we could take turns spying on the action.

  “Seems like a lot of security and equipment just to uncover a bad smell,” I said.

  “You got that right,” Jimmy said.

  “What should we do?” Mumps asked.

  TJ pulled out his big camera with a long distance lens. “I need to get some reconnaissance photos so we can study them later.” He spent the rest of the afternoon secretly snapping pictures of the school’s perimeter.

  The next day was the most dramatic of all. From our hiding place behind the baseball field, we watched a convoy of flatbed trucks loaded with hundreds of rubber hoses wheel into the parking lot. Then a bunch of oversized-load trucks carrying massive storage containers rumbled inside.

  “This is crazy,” I said. “Our school looks like a disaster site.”

  “Whatever’s inside must be really toxic,” Mumps said.

  I stood up, lifted my nose, and sniffed the air. “Something toxic or something fishy,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” Jimmy asked.

  “They have millions of dollars worth of equipment in there. And they’re employing dozens of construction workers and scientists. This is a huge operation—all to clean up a dinky elementary school in the middle of New Hampshire.”

  “Schnoz is right,” TJ said, snapping more pictures with his camera.

  I grabbed the binoculars and focused in on the school. I saw more trucks enter the grounds, followed by what looked like an army tank. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bicycle slowly pedaling down the street. I zoomed in for a closer look.

  “It’s Vivian,” I said out loud.

  “I thought she was still at her grandmother’s house,” Mumps said.

  I shrugged. “Maybe she came back early.”

  “What’s she doing?” Jimmy asked.

  “Just riding her bicycle slowly up and down the street by the school, the part that isn’t blocked off.”

  A dog barked behind us, and a man’s gruff voice called out, “What are you kids doing here?”

  We turned and saw an ECU guard. He was dressed in an all-black security uniform, carrying a walkie-talkie and holding a snarling, vicious-looking rottweiler.

  “You kids don’t belong here,” the guard said.

  “We just came to play baseball,” I said.

  “This whole area is off-limits. Don’t you know there’s a dangerous odor coming from that school?”

  My friends and I just stood there, not knowing what to do. This was the chance I had been waiting for. I wanted to ask an ECU employee what was really going on inside our school.

  “Why do you need all those trucks?” I asked. “And what are those rubber hoses for?”

  “It’s none of your business!” the guard barked.

  “All you need to know is that we’re searching for toxic materials. Our number one concern is for your safety. Now get out of here before I turn my dog loose.”

  We packed up our stuff and high-tailed it out of there. None of us said a word until we were almost to Jimmy’s house.

  “That was close,” Mumps said.

  “What do we do now?” Jimmy asked.

  A park bench sat in a little patch of green space near Jimmy’s house. I plopped down and tried to take in the events over the last few weeks—the smell, the evacuation, the possibility of no summer vacation, our school that was now a disaster site. I was angry and knew that I had to do something about it.

  “We’re superheroes,” I said. “Let’s go back to our secret hideout and plan our attack.”

  “But we don’t have a secret hideout,” Mumps said.

  “Then it’s time we got one.”

  16

  THE NOSTRIL

  Batman had the Bat Cave, the Fantastic Four had the Baxter Building, Super Schnoz, the Not-Right Brothers, and Vivian had the Nostril.

  It was really just an old shed in Jimmy’s backyard. After we hauled out all the bicycles, lawn stuff, and rusty gasoline cans, it became the nerve center of our mystery-solving, crime-fighting operation.

  Communication, comfort, and secrecy were of prime importance. The communication part came from four high-power walkie-talkies and TJ’s laptop with wireless Internet connection. Comfort came from some junky folding chairs and a stained, musty couch from Jimmy’s basement. Secrecy was a combination lock on the shed door to keep out nosy intruders.

  But there was a catch.

  Jimmy was the only one who knew the combination. That way if an evil villain captured any of us and slipped a truth serum inside our drink, only Jimmy would know the numbers. That’s why keeping Jimmy safe at all times was extremely important.

  Every morning we headed straight for the Nostril to plan our attack.

  TJ flipped open his laptop, connected his digital camera, and downloaded dozens of photos.

  “These are the reconnaissance photos I took of the school,” he said. “As you all know, ECU is guarding the place like Fort Knox. It’s going to be wicked hard getting inside without detection.”

  I carefully studied the photos.

  “They’re hiding something,” Jimmy said. “I just know it.”

  “I agree,” Vivian said. “Why would there be such tight security if it was only a burst sewer line or a bunch of dead rats causing the smell?”

  That’s when I remembered the conversation I’d heard on the day of the evacuation.

  “Remember I told you about sneaking back into the school the day of the smell?” I said.

  Vivian and the Not-Right Brothers nodded.

  “When I was hiding behind the copy machine in the teachers’ lounge, a man and woman came in and talked about gold mines under their feet and condemning the school. I didn’t pay much attention then because I was too worried about summer vacation.”

  “Who were they?” Mumps asked.

  “Not sure. I didn’t see their faces.”

  “Gold schmold,” Jimmy said. “I only care about discovering the s
ource of that smell and reopening the school.”

  “Just look at these pictures,” TJ said. “It’s as plain as the nose on Schnoz’s face. We’re not walking through the front door.”

  I grabbed the mouse from TJ’s laptop and zoomed in on one of the photos. “Look closer,” I said. “There’s a glaring hole in ECU’s security.”

  “Where?” Jimmy said. “I don’t see anything.”

  “What do you see on the roof?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s exactly the point. We’re not walking through the front door. I’m flying over the school and landing on the roof.”

  17

  STORM CLOUDS

  The next Saturday, Jimmy’s mom gave him permission to have a sleepover. We all brought our toothbrushes and pajamas, but no one was planning on getting much sleep. When night fell and Jimmy’s parents went to bed, Super Schnoz and the Not-Right Brothers flew into action.

  I tied my cape around my neck, slipped on the Mardi Gras mask, and met the guys inside the Nostril. TJ had his laptop open, checking out the weather and wind conditions for my midnight flight.

  “Where’s Vivian?” I asked. “She was supposed to sneak out and meet us.”

  “Maybe she got busted,” Mumps said.

  “We can’t wait for her,” TJ said. “The National Weather Service radar says a storm is approaching from the west. It will be here in two hours or so. What do you think, Schnoz?”

  “Two hours is plenty of time for me to land on the school and scope out the situation.”

  “There may be lightning. That could be extremely dangerous if you’re in the air.”

  “You could sizzle like a piece of bacon,” Mumps added.

  Jimmy closed the lid of the laptop, powering it down. “Forget about this stuff,” he said. “We have to do it tonight, storm and all. My mom only lets me have a sleepover once a month. We can’t wait another month to see what’s going on inside the school.”

  “Schnoz might not be able to fly in severe weather conditions,” TJ argued. “What if he lands on the roof okay, then can’t lift off because of the rain? Or worse yet, the wind speed is so strong it blows him all the way to Boston.”

  I stepped outside, licked my finger, and held it in the air. “The wind feels like it’s blowing at around twenty miles per hour.”

  TJ shot Jimmy a dirty look. “That’s exactly what the Doppler radar said on my computer before someone rudely shut it down. The closer the storm gets, the faster the wind. It could double and maybe even triple in velocity.”

  “He has to do it,” Jimmy pleaded. “There’s no choice.”

  I took a deep breath and stared into the night sky. Storm clouds billowed, erasing the stars and moon. The wind whipped through the trees. The mission would be dangerous, but our plan seemed solid. I turned to my comrades.

  “Let’s get this nose in the air, Not-Right Brothers,” I said, sliding a walkie-talkie into my belt. “We’re wasting precious seconds.”

  The boys moved into position inside the Nostril, TJ monitoring the weather and communications, Mumps and Jimmy waiting outside to see if I needed help with liftoff. I stood in the center of the lawn, away from the trees and house so nothing could interfere.

  A gust of wind shot in my direction. I inhaled deeply, and my nostrils flared like the wings of a giant prehistoric pterodactyl. I was off the ground, drifting effortlessly over the house, above the town of Denmark, toward the school.

  And that’s when I saw a UH-60L Black Hawk military helicopter, armed and dangerous, rise from a pad in the school parking lot making a beeline in my direction.

  18

  DANG TURKEY BUZZARD

  The Black Hawk was on me fast. It was so close I could see the whites of the pilot’s eyes. I plugged my right nostril with my finger and banked sharply to the left, bringing me within feet of the helicopter’s four-bladed rotating wings. Just as they were about to hack me to pieces, the helicopter turned suddenly to the right, missing me by inches.

  “Nothing but a dang turkey buzzard!” I heard the pilot yell above the whine of the wings, and the Black Hawk flew out of sight.

  A wave of relief swept over me. Thanks to the mask, the pilot had mistaken me for a bird. With the attack copter threat out of the way, I continued my descent to the school roof. The wind had picked up slightly and a light, misty rain began to fall. I lowered my nose, lifted my rear, and made a soft landing onto the asphalt roof.

  I plucked the walkie-talkie out of my belt and contacted home base. “Nostril, Nostril, come in,” I whispered. “Super Schnoz has landed. Can you read me, Nostril?”

  “Reading you loud and clear, Super Schnoz,” TJ said on the other end.

  “I’ve landed undetected. How’s the latest weather report?”

  “Not so good. Storm’s getting closer. Reports of damaging high winds and lightning.”

  “I’ll work fast. Over and out.”

  I hung up the walkie-talkie and assessed the situation. Armed guards with large dogs roamed the perimeter. Spotlights sliced the school grounds. I stumbled around in the wet darkness, searching for the roof hatch the custodian, Mr. Tobey, used when he worked on the roof. I didn’t get ten yards before I found it. I gripped the handle and tugged with all my might. It didn’t budge. Too bad my superpower wasn’t strength instead of smell.

  The only option was painfully clear: I’d have to risk scaling down the side of the building and finding a way inside from ground level.

  The rain came down harder. Lightning flared in the distance, followed by cracks of thunder. I moved to the edge of the building and looked down. A dog snarled and a harsh beam of a flashlight blinded me. I froze like a stone gargoyle, my cape fluttering in the wind.

  Two armed guards stared at me from below.

  “What’s that thing on the roof?” one of them called out.

  “Don’t know,” the other said, scratching his head. “Looks to me like a dang turkey buzzard.”

  “Shoo, you ugly bird, or I’ll sic my mutt on you!”

  The men laughed and disappeared around the side of the building.

  When everything was clear, I inflated my nostrils and wafted gently to the ground.

  19

  THE GATES OF SMELL

  I may have been a turkey buzzard on the roof, but on the ground I was just an eleven-year-old kid in a cape. Who knew what would happen if one of the guards busted me? I scurried along the side of the building, away from the dogs, guards, and spotlights, searching for a crack in their security.

  It didn’t take me long to find one.

  The door at the end of the first-grade wing that we used for recess didn’t shut properly. The latch always caught, leaving the door slightly ajar. Jimmy and I had discovered it one Saturday afternoon when we stopped by the school to collect some new smells for my scent dictionary. We had sneaked inside and roamed the empty school.

  I slowly creaked open the door and stepped inside. Instantly, the smell hit me like a rubber dodgeball in the face. It was strong, deliciously tantalizing. A wonderful combination of bad breath, poopy bathroom, body odor, and a million other stinky smells rolled into one.

  Loud footsteps echoed in my direction. I dashed inside Mrs. Ferotte’s room and hid behind her desk. The door opened, and I could smell wet dog and leather boots. It was a gas-mask-wearing guard. His German shepherd was panting heavily. I quickly started licking myself like a cat, trying to remove my scent so the dog wouldn’t pick it up.

  It worked. The classroom door shut, and the guard and his dog disappeared back down the hall. I crawled from my hiding place, my nose leading me in the direction of the smell. Although the scent permeated every crack and crevice of the school, I soon discovered the epicenter—the school gymnasium.

  A team of guards stood at each entrance, but I knew a different way. The stage connected the music room and the gym, so I tiptoed toward the art and music hallway. There wasn’t a guard in sight, so I opened the music door and slipped inside.


  I peeked around the red velvet curtain. A huge pit spiraling deep into the earth had replaced the gym floor. Scientists wearing gas masks and white lab coats hovered like bees in a hive. Dozens of large hoses snaked into the pit, sucking out barrel after barrel of black, goopy liquid.

  With every slurp of the hoses, the smell grew a thousand times more powerful. The black liquid was the source of the stink!

  I had to see what was inside the pit. Hanging on pegs to my right were several gas masks, security badges, clipboards, and white lab coats. I grabbed a set and slipped them on. I hid my Mardi Gras mask on the stage and pulled on the gas mask. An extra-large size barely fit over my nose.

  Pretending like I was scribbling stuff down on the clipboard, I walked over to the pit and peered inside. What I saw nearly blew my nose. The pit seemed bottomless. Flames crackled deep inside the core of the earth and gurgling, boiling black ooze simmered and popped in smoky stink bubbles.

  I shivered inside; my blood grew cold. It was like something from a horror movie—only this was real life. I knew without a doubt what terrible sight I was gazing upon.

  The Gates of Smell.

  20

  MISSION STATEMENT

  A bony finger tapped my shoulder. “You look lost. Are you one of the new scientists?”

  I turned to see one of the lab-coated scientists standing behind me. He was wearing a gas mask so I couldn’t see his face, but I recognized the voice. It belonged to the mysterious man from the teachers’ lounge the day we evacuated the school.

  “Uh…sure,” I muttered, lowering my voice to sound more grown-up.

  “Then you need to be in orientation. It’s in the school library. ECU policy forbids any new hires from the Pumping Floor without first having a thorough understanding of our operation. Understand?”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled then hurried down the hall before he noticed I was just a kid.