Locksmith

by Nicholas Maes

  He paused for a moment to rest … and plunged fifteen feet.

  That’s it, he thought. I’m as good as gone.

  He wasn’t. A pair of arms grabbed him and propelled him upward as if he had hitched a ride on a speeding submarine. He squeezed his tongue in desperation. Not the slightest bit of air was produced. Help! Hurry! He was starting to shake. Five more seconds and his chest would explode!

  He broke the surface with a terrific splash. Gobs of oxygen filled his lungs, sweet as sugar, more precious than gold.

  “Aruhokay?” Gibiwink asked, clutching him still. The frog’s speech and bulging cheeks revealed that he had swallowed some of the oxygen brew.

  When Lewis nodded between deep gasps, Gibiwink explained he had jumped in after him because it was crazy for anyone to dive alone. A good thing, too. If he hadn’t left that bubble trail behind …

  “Thanks,” Lewis said, tapping the frog. At the same time he began swimming to the “hills” where his friends were anxiously awaiting his return.

  “U thood west,” Gibiwink advised, swimming beside him. “U uhmotht died …”

  “There isn’t time to rest,” Lewis panted. “I know the swamp’s secret, except for one detail, and I’m hoping Todrus has pieced it together.”

  Again the frog propelled him forward. In no time at all they were nearing the creature — it was like pulling up to a ship at anchor — and Lewis asked for Todrus, after assuring everyone he was feeling okay.

  “Hello!” Todrus hailed him. “Aren’t you coming up?”

  “No,” Lewis answered. “Have you looked at those ingredients?”

  “Yes. That blue stone contains an anabolic compound, while the flower, if its anhydrolic base is changed —”

  “Thpeak in Englith!” Gibiwink yelled.

  “The ingredients can be mixed to form a powerful acid. It won’t do anything to glass or skin but will eat through metal in a matter of seconds.”

  “Bingo!” Lewis cried in triumph. After praising Todrus for his expertise — the frog actually blushed with pleasure — he asked how long it would take to prepare the acid. When Todrus answered a mere five minutes, Lewis told him to go ahead and to place the acid in an empty vial. He then called on Adelaide to mix a large batch of the oxygen brew and to store it in a vial, as well. Without questioning his orders she set to work.

  In the meantime the pair continued to float. As they waited, Lewis explained the situation to Gibiwink — how the swamp was like a tub with a chronolium plug, a metal that very few acids could melt through.

  “So dat’s wad de poem was descwibin’,” Gibiwink said, his tongue gradually returning to normal. “A recipe for bweakin’ up de cwonowium pwug?”

  “Exactly,” Lewis said.

  “But why would Grumpeh biwld a giand dub?”

  “Look at this creature. Grumpel knew your average lock would be useless against it, so he had my mother trap it in a chemical bath.”

  “U mean?”

  “As long as the creature’s in this fluid, it can’t move or awaken or do anything violent. It’s stuck, like a bike that’s been chained to a fence.”

  “So if you destwoy dat pwug, de swamp will dwain away?”

  “Yes, through a network of pipes just under the swamp. And with the fluid gone, the creature will awaken.”

  Gibiwink had another question — would they be able to escape before the alien broke free? — but Todrus hailed them from the “hill” just then.

  “It’s done!” he cried. “I’ve got the acid!”

  “And the brew’s ready, too,” Adelaide added.

  “Great!” Lewis said. “Now tell everyone to join us.”

  “Join you? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, and hurry please!”

  As the group organized things above, Lewis told Gibiwink why they had to jump. If they waited until the swamp was drained, there would be no water to cushion their fall. At the same time, with the fluid gone, the creature —

  Splash! The Stranger landed nearby, Todrus followed, then the Pangettis appeared.

  “Listen,” Lewis declared after greeting his friends, “Gibiwink and Todrus will help me dive. The rest of you start swimming to shore. No matter what, you mustn’t stop. No matter what. Do you understand?”

  “But I want to help,” Alfonse said.

  “We do, too,” the others insisted.

  “We’ll look after him,” Todrus promised. “You three should get moving.”

  After a few more protests, the trio agreed. Handing Lewis the oxygen mix, Adelaide and the others started off. Because the shore was at least a mile away, they had their work cut out for them.

  “Good luck!” everyone called to one another.

  After allowing them a five-minute lead, Lewis asked the frogs to hold him steady. He then swallowed part of the oxygen mix and gagged a little as his tongue swelled up. The frogs followed suit. As soon as the brew kicked in, they began their dive.

  Linking limbs, they plummeted like cannonballs. A minute later they were on the bottom and poised before the base of the creature. At Lewis’s prompting the frogs swam close to the floor, disturbing its mud with thrusts from their flippers, and in no time at all they arrived at the “drain.”

  Lewis dropped into the hole. His aim was to clear the mud from the disk so that the acid could be applied to its chronolium surface. The frogs helped out by reaching into the drain, flailing their flippers and dispelling the grime.

  There it was.

  Even in that blood-red fluid the chronolium gleamed with hypnotic beauty. It looked strong enough to absorb a nuclear blast. Lewis sighed and stroked the plug again, amazed that his mother had built such a system.

  Todrus pointed at his mouth — a warning that their air might fail. Lewis nodded and produced the vial, whose syrupy contents seemed … disappointing. How could it dissolve a solid layer of chronolium? Full of doubt, he held the vial near the plug, turned it upside down, and removed the stopper. When the paste oozed out, he assumed it would break up in the fluid, but it settled in a clump on the metal’s brilliant finish.

  Ten seconds passed. Nothing happened. Lewis fanned his hand to spread the paste more evenly, but it remained in a clump and triggered no reaction.

  Thirty seconds passed. Had they been wrong about the poem? Had it been a bit of nonsense verse, with no bearing whatsoever on his mother’s locking system? If so, how would they destroy this disk, assuming he was right and it really was a plug? Unless it wasn’t and he had been wrong all along …

  He gasped as the frogs yanked him out of the hole.

  The chronolium was blistering in front of their eyes. Its blue-silver length was now a pale yellow, and a blanket of heat engulfed the trio, as if the door to a roaring furnace had been opened. Flames were breaking out inside the fluid. While Lewis was afraid, he was also ashamed. He shouldn’t have doubted his mother’s instructions.

  Grabbing Lewis, the frogs took off. They covered twenty yards in a matter of seconds and increased their distance with every stroke, but the acid’s heat was spreading quickly. The fluid was bubbling wildly now.

  But the heat didn’t concern them that much. Their real fear stemmed from the plug’s disappearance. As soon as it melted, the fluid would drain and they would be drawn toward the hole and sucked inside.

  They were now three hundred yards from the drain and breaking through the water’s surface. The fluid wasn’t nearly so hot. Had they managed to escape its downward pull?

  The three swimmers didn’t have time to see what hit them. One moment they were pressing forward, the next there was a sucking sound and the entire swamp was spinning like crazy — as if they were trapped in an enormous blender.

  “De pwug!” Todrus gasped. “De athid mus ha ea’en thwew!”

  Before Lewis could answer, the swamp’s spiral yanked him back. The frogs still clutched him, their legs kicking furiously as they battled the current. As hard as they fought, the torrent was stronger — not only were they sliding
back, but the fluid was heating up again.

  Oof! They struck the creature, and it was like hitting a brick wall. The collision winded Gibiwink and Todrus, and they briefly relaxed their grip on Lewis. Instantly, the current jerked him back.

  Lewis was dragged across the alien’s surface and would have shot into the whirlpool and been sucked into the drain had his hands not grazed a slight outcropping. He managed to latch on to it and took in his surroundings. Over there, on his right, was he imagining things? No, there really was a cave close by.

  It was a fold in the creature’s skin that could possibly shelter the trio.

  “Todwus! Gib’wink! Ovew hewe!” he shouted. “I’b found a cabe!”

  As the frogs glanced up, he waved them over. He also clasped the ledge with his feet, thereby freeing both hands. A moment later Todrus floated near, steering himself with the last of his strength. Hauling on his flippers, Lewis dragged him to safety.

  “Get Gib’wink!” Todrus sputtered.

  Gibiwink drifted near, as well, but was short of Lewis by a couple of feet. Any moment now and he would be swept away …

  “Yaw tongue!” Lewis yelled. “Wap it wound me!”

  Gibiwink obeyed. Catching hold of his tongue Lewis reeled him in and dropped him next to Todrus as if he were landing an unusually large fish.

  For the next few minutes they huddled in the cave and listened to the fluid roar around them. They were worried about the rest of the group and whether their comrades had been able to escape the current.

  “Am I cwazy,” Gibiwink asked, “or is it wess noisy?”

  “Yaw wight,” Todrus said, rearing his head. “It is wess noisy.”

  They peered outside and were taken aback. The swamp’s level had fallen and it was still draining. As more of it vanished, more of the creature could be seen. Below them was a long slope of grey, as if they were standing on a mountain of clay.

  A gurgling erupted. The last of the fluid was running off, and the swamp’s muddy bottom was visible in places. Here and there, where bits of silt had washed away, lengths of metal piping were exposed. But the best sight by far was the figures in the distance. Gibiwink waved. Their friends waved back.

  The mud was now completely exposed. Strange to say, Lewis felt a bit bad because the absence of water marked the death of Yellow Swamp. At the same time, eyeing the soil below, he knew they had to act if they were going to survive.

  “We’ve got to jump,” he announced, his voice back to normal. “We’re in danger here.” Without awaiting their response he launched himself forward.

  The creature’s flanks were like a playground slide. Because its skin was smooth and moist from the swamp, the long ride down was safe and easy. For a good ten seconds he continued to drop, gathering speed as he barrelled downward. Near the bottom the flank curled up a little, and when Lewis reached it hurtling at thirty miles per hour, it tossed him twenty feet into the air. Luckily, his fall was cushioned by a large patch of mud.

  “Hurry up!” he cried. “There’s no time to spare!”

  “What’s the big hurry?” Gibiwink grumbled. Todrus pushed him forward and followed swiftly behind.

  “Are you okay?” Lewis asked some thirty seconds later, smiling at the frogs’ mud-covered features. As they started to answer, his eyes widened in horror.

  He had seen strange sights since they had entered the region, but the scene that now confronted him was the strangest yet by far.

  “I think we have a problem,” Lewis whispered to his friends.

  CHAPTER 18

  Everyone’s mouths were open in shock. The creature before them had unfolded itself and was astounding. It looked a bit like a brontosaurus, only it had two crests instead of one and at least thirty legs, while a dozen wings sprouted out of its back, each the size of a helicopter’s rotor. Its head alone was as big as a car, with a mouth large enough to swallow a human.

  Near the top of its skull was a band of shifting colours that pulsed and crackled with electricity. And covering its flanks were hundreds of eyes, each full of fire and incessantly blinking, as if it were trying to signal its neighbours.

  Lewis was transfixed — with wonder more than fear. There it was in front of him, proof that there was life on other planets, beasts as complex as the ones on Earth. Despite his worries he felt microscopic. Grumpel, Yellow Swamp, even his dad’s captivity, these were all unimportant when compared to the universe’s size and majesty.

  The alien lifted its gargantuan head, opened its mouth, and produced an outlandish sound — a cross between a rumbling diesel engine and a bagpipe’s howl. Then it gazed at the sky and unfurled its wings like a plane waiting for a runway to clear. Lewis wanted to examine the creature more closely, but for some odd reason his waist was burning …

  It was his chemical belt! When the beast uttered its unearthly scream, the noise had caused all the vials to shatter in his belt and in the frogs’, as well. Of course, the chemicals were mixing together.

  “Get rid of your belts!” Todrus yelled, untying his and hurling it away. The others quickly followed suit. Sure enough, seconds later the belts exploded in a shower of sparks. There was a smell of rubber, plastic, and metal, and a molasses-like smoke filled the air. Then, quick as it flash, it all disappeared. A mile away there were two more explosions as Alfonse and Adelaide also dumped their belts — or so Lewis hoped. Unfortunately, the disturbance drew the creature’s attention, and it suddenly swayed its head toward them.

  “Run! It’s going to kill you!” the others shouted from afar.

  The frogs started fleeing, but Lewis stood his ground. Escaping this beast was out of the question; it made better sense to confront the alien directly.

  The head passed within an inch of Lewis, and his body was reflected in the bands on its skull. Then he realized the image was more like an X-ray scan — his bones and organs were on display. The creature was analyzing him to see if he were tasty or posed a threat to itself. When it decided he was neither, it raised its head and shrieked again.

  As Lewis pressed his hands to his ears, he noticed something shiny on the alien’s neck — a foam or plastic patch of some kind. This had to be the receiver, he thought, and was Grumpel’s means of controlling the beast. Before he could get a better look, the creature balanced on its hindmost legs — each was as thick as the trunk of an oak. At the same time it stretched its multiple wings and tautened its muscles the length of its body.

  “It’s going to take off!” Todrus shouted from a few yards off.

  As the trio watched in fascination, the alien hefted itself and took to the sky.

  It was hard to believe such a mass could fly, yet it not only climbed with breathtaking speed but wheeled in circles with the grace of an eagle a good three miles above their heads.

  “What’s it doing?” Gibiwink asked.

  “It’s catching its bearings,” Lewis said, straining his eyes to keep the creature in focus. “There’s a receiver on its neck, but Grumpel’s signal must be weak.”

  His mind was racing. If this creature returned to New York City without them, Grumpel wouldn’t feel obliged to free his father. In other words, they had to pursue it. But how? Before he had freed the alien, he hadn’t known about its wings. He had also assumed that, if the going got rough, their belts would help them in any jam. But their belts were gone, the creature was airborne, and any moment it would return to the chemist.

  Lewis closed his eyes. How could he fail after all their scrapes and near brushes with death? Yet short of sprouting wings, they couldn’t follow …

  As if in answer to his prayers, there was a distant cheeping. A formation was flying in from the plain, exactly like a line of jets. All at once it split itself in two — half headed toward the frogs and Lewis, while the rest approached the Stranger and the Pangettis.

  It was Atara. Hearing the alien’s shriek — the sound had carried for miles — the bat had thought his friends were in danger. Despite his fear of the Forbidden Region, he had
gathered all his relatives and had come to the rescue. Lewis felt as if his heart might burst.

  There wasn’t time for lengthy greetings, though. The bat seated Lewis on his back and flew off at a dizzying speed. Within seconds Yellow Swamp was a mile below, looking more forlorn than ever without the beast at its centre. In the meantime Lewis’s comrades had saddled their own bats and were shooting off after the creature, as well.

  The alien was several miles ahead of them. Its wingspan was incredible, so observing it was easy. And though it was fast, the bats kept up.

  “Atara says hello,” the Stranger said, pulling alongside Lewis on a grey-speckled bat — Atara’s uncle, as it turned out. “He says they’ll carry you wherever you want.”

  Lewis laughed. “Tell him I can’t thank him enough. But warn him that we’re off to New York City. Can he and his relatives take us that far?”

  “He says,” the Stranger answered after a pause, “they’ll carry you to the ends of the world until their hearts stop beating.”

  They were crossing a critical boundary just then. Until now they had been flying in the Yellow Swamp region, with its haze of grey forever veiling the heavens. Without warning the dullness ended and the sun was on their shoulders.

  It was setting, and the sky ahead was purple. They were back in a world where normal rules applied, where boulders didn’t explode, reptiles didn’t speak, and lakes were filled with clear, plain water. In short, the Alberta landscape was a sight for sore eyes.

  “It’s so beautiful … the sun!” Adelaide gushed.

  “I could tackle that alien on my own!” Alfonse whooped.

  “And Grumpel had better watch out!” Todrus added.

  Grumpel. His father. New York City. Lewis gazed at the creature ahead and pondered what they would do when it reached its destination. Despite his gladness to see the sun, the hardest task lay ahead of them still, and success was far from certain.

  His worries enveloped him, and he fell asleep.