The Cheerleaders of Doom

by Michael Buckley

  As she watched, stunned, Gerdie was lifted to her feet by strong hands. More of the strange warriors had stepped out of the cave and were helping her. They pulled her inside the cave, deep into its darkness.

  By the light of flickering torches mounted on the walls, she caught glimpses of cave paintings: hunters fighting herds of mammoths, strange deerlike creatures, something she thought might have been a saber-toothed tiger. The paintings looked fresh, as if recently painted.

  With each step she felt the bitterly cold air growing warmer and warmer. Wherever these people were taking her there was a fire. Finally, she was led into a huge room. At its center was a bonfire with nearly forty people gathered around it—children, babies, parents, elderly men and women. All were wearing animal hides, like her saviors, and a few held long, pointy spears.

  Several of the women sprang into action. They escorted Gerdie close to the fire and gave her a crude cup full of an earthy tea. They urged her to drink. The liquid rolled down her throat like lava, warming her to her toes.

  “Where am I?” she asked.

  The crowd looked at her oddly. It was obvious they did not understand her. Who were they?

  And then a theory began to unfold in her mind. Clearly, she had not been teleported as she had intended. Could her ugly little machine actually allow her to travel through time?

  And then her heart was racing. “My machine,” she said, trying to mime the size and shape of it. “It’s out there. I need it!”

  The people watched her panic with confused faces. They had no idea what she was saying. They would be no help. She would have to go back out into the snow and get her machine. She couldn’t be trapped in the past forever.

  Just as she was ready to bolt for the exit, the three warriors who had killed the mammoth came in and joined the crowd. One of them held her machine. Overjoyed, she raced to them. “Oh, thank you! Thank you! You have no idea how important this is to me. It’s my only way home and …”

  The warrior removed her hood and gave Gerdie a shock even more powerful than coming face-to-face with an extinct monster. This “Eskimo” was small with kinky red hair and bad teeth. She had big feet and long arms and legs and a face like a Bigfoot. She looked exactly like Gerdie.

  The other two warriors lowered their hoods and Gerdie got another shock. They looked exactly like her sisters, Linda and Luanne. She scanned the cave and quickly picked out a perfect match for her mother. Old Mr. Carlisle from next door was feeding the fire. A carbon copy of her seventh-grade teacher, Ms. Romis, was hovering nearby. Almost everyone she knew had a twin in that cave.

  Dumbfounded, she sat down on the ground and gazed at her invention. It wasn’t a teleportation device, and it certainly wasn’t a time machine. One look at these people with their familiar faces and she immediately knew what this ugly, backbreaking, wonderful device really did. It had taken her to an alternate reality. She was on another Earth.

  She sat pondering what it all meant. Would the government want such a machine? Was there a practical use for it that would win her the money she so desperately needed for her plans?

  As she contemplated this, she felt something jabbing her in the foot. She reached down and found a smooth stone beneath her heel. She almost tossed it aside without a glance, but then the firelight glinted off it. She examined it more closely. It was as big as a marble, but each of its crystal facets was clear and flawless.

  “This is a diamond,” she said to herself, then looked at the hovering crowd of cavepeople. “I found a diamond on the ground. Do you have any idea how much this might be worth?”

  The girl that looked just like Gerdie gestured to a corner of the cave. There, lying in a pile, was a heap of diamonds, unwanted, like discarded trash.

  Gerdie hopped to her feet, preparing to stuff her pockets to the limit with jewels, when her machine came to life. With its batteries fully charged, the little ball of light appeared and grew. Before she could get her hands on another jewel, there was a flash and she was gone.

  A moment later, she found herself back in her room. Out the window she saw angry people. Some were looking under the hoods of stalled cars. Others were pointing at their darkened houses. Gerdie suspected her return was responsible for the blackout, but it was a small price to pay. She had created something the greatest scientific minds could only theorize about. She looked down at the sole shiny diamond she had managed to bring back home, and suddenly, Gerdie Baker wasn’t so sure she wanted to sell her ugly old invention any longer.

  YOU SEE THIS, PAL?

  IT’S MY EYE AND IT’S WATCHING YOU.

  EVER SINCE WE MADE YOU A FULL-FLEDGED MEMBER OF NERDS, I’VE NOTICED SOME TROUBLING BEHAVIOR FROM YOU AND I’VE COME TO A CONCLUSION …

  … YOU’RE LOSING YOUR MARBLES!

  I THINK THE STRESS OF BEING A SECRET AGENT AND A KID IS GETTING TO YOU. YOU LOOK TIRED AND DISTRACTED. IT’S NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF—BEING A MEMBER OF THE NATIONAL ESPIONAGE, RESCUE, AND DEFENSE SOCIETY CAN BE DIFFICULT. WHEN I WAS A MEMBER OF THE TEAM, I WAS STRESSED OUT ALL THE TIME. BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN WE CAN LET THE MENTALLY UNBALANCED STAY ON THE TEAM.

  WHO AM I?

  HMMM … YOU’RE HAVING SOME MEMORY PROBLEMS. THAT’S NOT A GOOD SIGN. MY NAME IS MICHAEL BUCKLEY. I’M A FORMER MEMBER OF NERDS. MY CODE NAME WAS BEANPOLE, AND I WAS THE GREATEST AGENT NERDS EVER SAW.

  YES, REALLY!!!!!

  ANYWAY, WHEN I RETIRED, I TOOK ON A NEW JOB: DOCUMENTING THE CURRENT TEAM’S CASES AND KEEPING MY GREAT BIG EYE ON NEW RECRUITS. I’VE TALKED TO THE BOSSES ABOUT YOU. WE’RE CONCERNED, SO WE’RE GOING TO GIVE YOU A TEST TO SEE IF YOU ARE MENTALLY FIT TO BE A SECRET AGENT.

  WHOA! SLOW DOWN WITH ALL THE QUESTIONS. THE TEST WILL TELL US HOW YOU REACT IN HIGH-PRESSURE SITUATIONS. THE BIG SHOTS WANT TO MAKE SURE BEFORE WE TOSS YOU OFF THE TEAM.

  THE TEST IS PRETTY SIMPLE: A SERIES OF MULTIPLE-CHOICE QUESTIONS SIMILAR TO THE TESTS THEY GIVE POLICE OFFICERS, FBI AND CIA AGENTS, AND MEMBERS OF THE MILITARY.

  HERE’S A SAMPLE QUESTION. ANSWER IT HONESTLY:

  ______________

  1. ARE YOU CRAZY?

  a. YES! ABSOLUTELY, YES!

  b. KINDA

  c. PROBABLY

  d. I’M FINE, BUT THE VOICES IN MY HEAD DISAGREE

  OK, I’M A LITTLE TROUBLED BY YOUR ANSWER. ARE YOU HIDING SOMETHING? HEY, WHAT’S WITH ALL THE FIDGETING? YOU LOOK NERVOUS. WORSE, YOU LOOK GUILTY! WELL, YOU CAN LIE TO ME, BUT YOU CAN’T LIE TO THE TEST. SO IF YOU HAPPEN TO BE AN AX MURDERER OR A PYROMANIAC, YOU MIGHT AS WELL FESS UP NOW.

  HMMM … DENIAL. FINE. READ THROUGH THIS CASE FILE AND ANSWER THE QUESTIONS. WHEN YOU’RE FINISHED, WE’LL TOTAL YOUR SCORE TO FIND OUT THE TRUTH.

  UNTIL THEN, THIS IS MY EYE …

  … WATCHING YOU.

  Alexander Brand, Nathan Hale Elementary’s janitor, limped down the school hallway using his mop wheelie bucket as a makeshift cane. His bad leg was bothering him. Ever since the accident, it ached when a storm was coming. If he could just get off it for an hour or so, it would be as good as new, but he couldn’t take a break. His boss wanted to speak with him.

  He turned a corner and saw the school’s librarian, Ms. Holiday, waiting for him by the supply closet door. She was blonde, with the kind of glasses that made her look both smart and feline. When he saw her, he couldn’t help but smile, but he forced it from his face. It wasn’t professional. But it was difficult to stay professional when she smiled back.

  “If he wants to see us, it must be serious,” she said.

  Brand nodded. “It’s always serious.”

  He took a set of keys from his coveralls and unlocked the closet door. Once inside, Ms. Holiday turned her attention to a shelf stacked with jugs of bleach and rolls of paper towels. Moving them aside, she placed her hand on the brick wall behind them, and suddenly a pinpoint of green light traced the outline of her fingers.

  “Identity scanned and approved. Good morning, Agent Holiday,” an electronic voice said.

  “Good morning,” sh
e replied as Brand unzipped the front of his gray uniform, revealing a surprising sight—an elegant black tuxedo, complete with crisp white shirt and a shiny black tie. He checked his silver cuff links, brushed some lint off his shoulder, and snatched a white cane from the corner.

  “How do I look, Ms. Holiday?” he said.

  “Dreamy. You know, you can call me Lisa when we’re alone, Alexander. After all, we’ve been dating for almost a month—”

  “And we agreed that we were going to keep that a secret. I am your boss.”

  She put her finger to his lips. “Our secret is safe with me, Agent Brand.”

  Brand tried to put weight on his cane and stumbled backward. He scowled. He could disarm a nuclear bomb with one arm tied behind his back, but when Holiday was around he became a bumbling idiot.

  “Good morning, Director Brand,” the electronic voice said.

  Brand righted himself. “We’re going to the Playground.”

  “At once,” the voice replied. “Delivering in three, two, one.”

  The floor beneath Brand and Holiday suddenly sank, and the two were sent plummeting deep into the earth aboard a tiny platform. They passed plumbing systems, electric cables, even the remains of an ancient graveyard long lost to history. Soon their platform zoomed into the bowels of a massive cave. Shadows tiptoed along the walls. Water dripped down from above and the air felt cold and thin.

  “I can’t wait for my secret entrance in the library to be finished. I hate taking this route,” Ms. Holiday said as she slipped her hand into Brand’s. “It’s creepy.”

  Brand, however, was not frightened. On the contrary, he was fascinated! The cave reminded him of the abandoned mine he and his brother, Tom, had explored as children growing up in Colorado. Their grandfather, who raised them, had warned Tom and Alexander to steer clear of its tunnels, but the boys couldn’t help themselves. By the time Tom left home to join the air force, the two brothers knew every twist and turn. Tom would have loved this cave.

  “Alexander?”

  Brand pulled himself out of his memory. “Yes, Ms.… Lisa.”

  “We’re here.”

  Brand glanced around. He hadn’t noticed that the platform had sunk into a room so wide and cavernous it could have doubled as a football field. Columns held up the arched ceiling, each pillar decorated in tiled mosaics celebrating the different areas of science—geology, chemistry, astronomy, and more. Machines filled the vast room, along with hundreds of worktables littered with computer parts, test tubes, circuits, and tools. Scientists in white lab coats bustled about, their hands filled with bizarre instruments and inventions. In the center of the room, a round platform stood a few feet off the ground. On it were five leather chairs surrounding a strange desk. The desk had a small hole cut into it and circuitry embedded beneath its glass surface.

  As Brand and Holiday approached the platform, a glowing sphere shot out of the hole in the desk and zipped toward them, stopping within inches of their faces. The sphere was no bigger than a softball and covered in blue blinking lights.

  “Welcome to the new and improved Playground, Mr. Brand, Ms. Holiday.” The voice came from the blinking sphere.

  “Nice to see you again, Benjamin,” Ms. Holiday replied.

  Unlike the voice in the broom closet, the ball’s voice was dignified, proper, and even a little old-fashioned. Benjamin’s personality was patterned after one of America’s most famous spies, Benjamin Franklin. “What do you think of it?”

  “Looks just like the old Playground,” Brand said.

  “At first glance, yes, but when you take a closer look you will see everything is beyond state-of-the-art—a hundred workstations, a biofueled power grid, and every square inch of wall space can now be adapted for an unlimited number of uses.”

  The tiles on the walls flipped over and converted into thousands of television monitors broadcasting everything from cartoons to the feed from cameras mounted on ATMs. They could observe every corner of the world from this room.

  “Fancy,” Ms. Holiday said.

  “Indeed,” Benjamin said proudly. “It wasn’t easy after Heathcliff and Upgrade destroyed the school, but I believe the place will feel like home in no time.”

  “We have a meeting with General Savage. Could you activate the satellite link?” Ms. Holiday asked.

  “Of course,” Benjamin said, then emitted a series of clicks. The tiles on the walls flipped over to reveal a giant, bullet-shaped head. Its owner was one General Savage, a battle-hardened soldier who had seen his fair share of wars—a few he had fought all by himself. It was rumored the man could bench-press four hundred pounds and that his earlobes could deadlift twenty pounds apiece. His personality was just as tough.

  “Good morning, sir,” Brand said.

  Savage nodded. “We’ve got an emergency. Have you got your facility up and running, Director?”

  “All the important systems are operational. A little nail pounding won’t get in our way,” Brand said. “Is there trouble, sir?”

  Savage’s brows furrowed so deep they nearly covered his eyes. “As you know, NASA satellites monitor the globe. They’ve found an unusual electrical phenomenon near Akron, Ohio.”

  “What kind of electrical phenomenon?” Ms. Holiday asked.

  “Imagine every flicker of electrical energy being sapped out of every device within a three-block area—no lights, no computers, no instant bank machines. Nothing.”

  “Are you suspecting sabotage, sir? It could just be a blackout,” Brand said.

  “Not according to this report.” Savage lifted a huge stack of papers, then set them back on his desk with a loud thump! “I can’t make heads or tails of any of it, so we brought in a scientist. In a nutshell, someone has built some kind of machine that is literally sucking electricity out of the power lines—even pulling it out of batteries. It’s happened in seven different locations in Akron, Ohio.”

  “What kind of a machine needs all that power?” the librarian asked.

  “That’s your job to find out,” the General said. “We don’t know who built it or why they are using it, but if they mean to cause chaos for the United States of America, we need to stop them. This device could shut down communication, defense systems, hospitals, the police, banks, grocery stores, everything. Assemble your team, agents.”

  “They’re on a mission, sir,” Ms. Holiday said. “But they’ll be back soon.”

  “Well, I hope they’re close by. You’re going to need all of your resources on this one.”

  “Space … the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Wheezer. On a five-year mission to seek out new life and new civilizations, and to boldly go where no nerd has gone before!”

  With those words, Wheezer pressed the plunger on her inhaler and felt its powerful propulsion system rocket her out into the inky nothingness of space. Her team, the National Espionage, Rescue, and Defense Society, or NERDS, for short, was on a mission to save the International Space Station. They had rocketed through the atmosphere in a superjet, docked with the station, put on high-tech space suits, and were now leaping out of the air lock into nothingness.

  Being a secret agent ruled.

  “Gruubballla!” Flinch said through the space suit’s communication device.

  “Anyone want to translate that for me?” Wheezer asked.

  “He said enough with the goofing,” Pufferfish explained. “He wants to get back to headquarters. He says the lunch lady has made him a special dessert today. Grubberlin … or something.”

  “Gruubballla!” Flinch cried.

  “What is Grubberlin?” Braceface asked.

  “Who knows? He’s had too many juice boxes,” Gluestick replied. “After twelve I’m not sure he even knows what he’s talking about.”

  “Flinch, this is the experience of a lifetime, and all you can think about is dessert. Don’t tell me you guys are so used to being secret agents that this is boring? What eleven-year-old kid gets to save some astronauts?”

/>   Gluestick’s head bobbed in his helmet. “Wheezer’s right. This is awesome. What a great opportunity to test out the Z-64 Moon Walk Suits. Each one is specifically designed to work with our unique powers,” he said as he strolled along the outside surface of the space station. The chubby boy was the team’s resident techno-geek, and he obsessed over anything that blinked and beeped. Wheezer guessed that, for him, wearing a superadvanced space suit made of a flexible, comfy-cozy polymer—completely airtight—was like ten birthdays rolled into one. “My adhesives work just like they would on Earth.”

  “That’s great for you, but my upgrade enhances my allergies and this suit is making me itch!” Pufferfish said, as she tried to scratch her arm through the suit.

  “Well, whatever they’re made of, they aren’t stopping the amazing powers of Braceface,” the boy said. His helmet’s faceplate acted like a force field, keeping oxygen in but allowing his braces to morph and grow as he willed them. They swirled around in his mouth and produced a superhero statue featuring his own face.

  “Gruubballla!” Flinch cried as he beat on his chest like a gorilla.

  As the others talked, Wheezer felt her chest tightening. Too much excitement sometimes triggered her asthma. She closed her eyes and focused on the inhalers in her hands. She felt the click that meant the inhalers had switched from rocket boosters to medicine delivery devices. Then she inserted them into the specially designed slots in her helmet. She pushed the plunger and cool mist eased her breathing. She couldn’t help but smile. Sure, she had asthma, but here she was on a secret mission in outer space, when less than a year and a half ago she couldn’t walk around the block without stopping to catch her breath.

  When Matilda “Wheezer” Choi was three years old, she often woke up in the night unable to breathe. She told her parents it felt like an invisible monster was standing on her chest. It wasn’t long before a doctor diagnosed her with chronic asthma and prescribed what he called a metered-dose inhaler—a small canister housed inside a plastic plunger—which he said would help. When she put it in her mouth, a premeasured amount of medication was shot directly down her throat into her lungs. It usually made her feel better, but sometimes her attacks were strong and the inhaler was not enough. When her wheezing was really bad, she used a device called a nebulizer, which delivered a powerful mist into her airways. If the inhaler and the nebulizer both failed, Matilda spent the night in the hospital. Some nights as she lay in her hospital bed, looking up at the tiles on the ceiling and wishing her mother and father could sleep by her side, she prayed for a new life—one with sports; field trips; long, uninterrupted nights of sleep; and family pets. But years passed and her prayers went unanswered.