Adventure Bike Club and the Tire Giant

by Brian Bakos

nothing to support the camera on.”

  It really isn’t very wise fooling around with a camera while we’re still in so much danger, but I get carried away. After all, I can’t be a hero all the time, and wouldn’t it be nice to record the occasion?

  “Let’s have one of the Kintz hold the camera,” I suggest, “they can stand real still.”

  “Okay.” Quentin advances the film and pulls up the time exposure lever. “Tell them to hold down the shutter button until I whistle.”

  I bring the camera to Kintz A.

  “We’re going to take a group photograph,” I say. “Look through here, stand very still, and hold down this button until Quentin whistles.”

  I turn toward Quentin. He makes a brief, high-pitched sound.

  “Like that,” I say.

  Kintz A examines the camera.

  “How quaint! I have seen such devices in our museum back home.”

  “Somebody else can hold camera next,” I say, “then you can be in the second picture.”

  “I am honored, Lady Amanda.”

  We all stand together with the glow band throwing dramatic back light. I am between Kintz One and Tommy. Melissa stands on the other side of Kintz One.

  Kintz A looks through the viewfinder.

  “Stand closer together, please,” she says.

  “Just a second,” Melissa says.

  She maneuvers herself between Kintz One and me. Then she wraps an arm around the alien’s waist and draws him in close.

  “That’s better,” she says, “shoot.”

  Kintz A is just about to press the shutter button when a heavy clunk! shakes the darkness. Our smiles vanish instantly.

  “It’s the guard,” Eddie whispers.

  26. Mayor Lazar to the Rescue

  Officer Jenkins, asleep in his patrol car, startled back awake. Another police cruiser was approaching, siren wailing and lights flashing.

  Jenkins exited his vehicle and straightened his uniform just as the second car arrived. Mayor Lazar and Police Chief Bascomb bounded out.

  “Why didn’t you respond to our radio call?” Lazar demanded.

  “Sorry, sir,” Jenkins said, “but my radio is out of order.”

  Lazar looked at Bascomb, who shrugged agreement.

  “That’s right, Mayor,” Bascomb said. “You wanted a car out here ASAP, so we sent this one before we could fix the radio.”

  “Yes, yes ... well,” Lazar blustered, “stand at attention when I’m addressing you, officer Jenkins.”

  Patrolman Jenkins snapped to attention.

  “At ease,” Lazar said.

  Patrolman Jenkins relaxed.

  Bascomb retrieved a shotgun from his car and shoved it into Jenkins’s hands.

  “Cover us,” he said, “we’re going to that tire giant.”

  Jenkins took the shotgun with a certain amount of confusion.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The three men moved out onto the wet grass of the park. Mayor Lazar was so upset that he didn’t even care about his elegant shoes getting soaked.

  He’d been cheated! He’d taken a bribe in good faith, and now the other party, whoever it was, had stiffed him. Nobody took advantage of Joe Lazar! Pay back time was coming.

  But as they moved farther into the park toward the picnic shelter, his courage began to wane.

  “Are you sure them other two police officers are coming?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Bascomb replied. “They’re moving along the tracks now. They should arrive about the same time we do.”

  “And did you bring a gun, also?” Lazar asked.

  Bascomb lifted his jacket to reveal his holstered service revolver.

  “Right here, as always, sir,” he said.

  Lazar felt a slight bit reassured. There would be four armed men with him when he got to that tire giant. That would be enough, wouldn’t it? He glanced nervously over his shoulder back toward the parked cars. He could barely see them now through the mist.

  Why was he being such an idiot – why didn’t he just send the cops out on their own?

  Because his vital interests were involved, that’s why. Somebody had to get to the bottom of this mystery, and whoever did would get the credit. He visualized the newspaper headlines:

  Heroic Mayor Leads Raid on Illegal Tire Giant!

  That had a nice ring to it. He could see the TV newscasters talking him up, conducting interviews with him, holding their microphones respectfully as he spoke into them.

  This could be the start of something really big! Maybe a higher office than mayor of this Podunk suburb awaited him ...

  But that was all in the future, this was now. And right now they were at the steep banks of a creek.

  “I thought there was a makeshift bridge here,” Bascomb said.

  The men directed their gaze to some boards lying in the shallow water.

  “That must be what’s left of it,” Bascomb said. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to get our feet wet, Mayor.”

  Lazar nodded sourly and looked away from the chilly water awaiting them below. Ahead of him, beyond the railroad tracks and the thick greenery, lay their objective. He couldn’t see the tire giant through the heavy mist, but he sensed its ominous presence, waiting there for him like some prehistoric monster.

  Flashes came from the mist, as if lightning was crackling. Lazar’s nerve failed completely – cold panic reached for him. No way was he going out there!

  So what if Bascomb got all the credit for the raid. At least he, Joe Lazar, would be alive to read about it in the papers. The others might not be so lucky.

  Lazar took a step back, then another.

  “A-all right, men,” he said. “You – ”

  He’d stepped on some slick mud. His feet shot out from under him and he was down on his ample rear end. Then he was sliding over the edge of the bank.

  “Help!” he cried, too late.

  He tumbled down the bank, flattening the underbrush in his way. He splashed into the creek.

  Police Chief Bascomb fought to keep from laughing out loud, but he couldn’t entirely hide a malicious grin.

  “Well,” he said, “let’s go get him.”

  27. Jump City

  We draw even closer together, like a bunch of hunted rabbits. A cold blanket of dread settles over us. Our eyes and ears strain through the spooky dimness toward the source of the clunk. This is definitely the end of the photo session.

  “The guard will be after blood,” Kintz One whispers into the communicator, “and he will reverse the dynamo unless we can stop him.”

  “All right,” Quentin says, “here’s the chance to jump somebody and make it count.”

  “Man, I don’t know,” Tommy says. “We saw how Kintz One fried you out, Quentin. This Basitch character has got to be a lot worse.”

  “I’d much rather get fried here than flash frozen in outer space,” Quentin says. “Isn’t that right, Eddie ... Eddie?”

  We all glance around.

  “Where’d he go?” Tommy says.

  “I should have figured he’d take off just when we need him most,” Melissa says.

  I never thought I could miss that angry little kid so much, but now I feel as if my best friend of all time has dumped me in the middle of the ocean.

  “Alas, we have lost a stalwart warrior,” Kintz A says.

  Well, who can blame him? He didn’t invite us here, and maybe he’s figured out some survival plan that can work only for himself. He must know more about this ship than he let on. My feelings of betrayal run deep, though.

  “We still have to make a stand,” Quentin says. “What other choice is there?”

  “The guard will soon be here,” Kintz One says. “We shall attack him, then?”

  Quentin gives a strong thumbs up.

  “Yeah!”

  Everyone else nods reluctantly. Kintz A takes my hand.

  “Lady Amanda,” she says. “May success crown our efforts. If not, then it will be an ho
nor for me to die at your side.”

  “Uh, thanks,” I say.

  If she’s trying to buck me up, it isn’t working very well.

  We don’t have much time to wait. A long, thin shaft of light stabs along the floor. We edge away from it into the darkest recess and lay ourselves out flat. Then a tall figure appears, framed by a bright doorway. He still wears his floppy hat, but I can see a face under it now.

  That face is deathly pale, like a starving vampire’s, with a sharp nose and burning red eyes. The mouth is twisted into an angry snarl, and its teeth are pointy.

  “That guy is bad news,” Tommy whispers.

  The door slides shut behind the Basitch man. Kintz One spreads his long arms over us, pulling us deeper into the dark.

  “I shall attack first,” he whispers, “stay clear.”

  “I’ll cover you,” Quentin says.

  The figure starts moving toward us with a slow, measured step, as if he is walking in a demonic funeral procession. A stream of angry noise pours from his mouth. It sounds like the Kintz language, only much rougher, as if it’s being forced out through a meat grinder.

  He draws closer, his big coat flopping around his legs. A wave of evil coldness rolls on ahead of him and chills me to the bone. He is powerful and arrogant, all right. The last thing he expects is to get jumped by a bunch of kids. So, at least we have surprise going for us.

  My heart is pounding so hard that I think the enemy might hear it, but the dynamo is spinning faster now and making more racket.

  The guard walks up close to our hiding place and pauses. He moves his head around in jerky little motions. His nostrils flare, like a werewolf sniffing out its victim.

  Kintz A grips my arm. I feel ready to faint.

  Then Quentin jumps up. The vampire face turns toward him.

  “Hey, slime ball!” Quentin shouts.

  He fires his slingshot right into the guard’s face. An unearthly roar splits the darkness.

  “Have