by Joe McGee
“If you want to save her,” Sally said, “we have to stick to the plan. Make it cold, make it snow, and we can save everyone in town.”
Madeline nodded, and she and Sally hurried to the library.
10
The library, like the movie theater, was abandoned. Unlike in the movie theater, however, the librarian was nowhere to be found.
There was just enough light coming in from the long windows that they didn’t need to turn any lamps on. Crusty old men and women gazed down at the girls from their gilded-framed oil paintings. The library smelled like an old sock drawer and paper and centipedes and oiled leather.
Madeline and Sally crept further into the library.
“Nonfiction is this way,” Sally said.
Madeline followed Sally down one aisle and then another. Books lined the shelves on either side, towering over them.
“Hmm, 550, 551,” said Sally, tracing her finger along the book spines, “551.65, 551.67, 551.68 JMR… 551.68 REY. Got it!”
She pulled the book from the shelf, and she and Madeline rushed to one of the worktables in the center of the lobby.
The Art of Artificial Snow by Tobias Reynolds.
Sally flipped to the index and turned pages until she found what she was looking for: ingredients.
She skimmed the page. There were only two ingredients needed to make fake snow. If you combined water and sodium polyacrylate, you’d have white, wet, fluffy snow.
“Where the heck are we supposed to find sodium poly-what’s-its-name?” Madeline asked.
Sally read further.
“We can probably find it at the Cottage Gardener,” Sally said. “According to the book, garden centers use sodium polyacrylate crystals to keep soil moist.”
“We’d better hurry,” said Madeline. “I’m not sure how long Gilbert can keep them occupied, and we’re going to need as much time as we can get at the baseball field.”
The Cottage Gardener was just on the other side of the town square, directly to the south of the library. The bay window was filled with gorgeous floral displays and wreaths and vases full of bouquets.
Madeline pushed the front door inward and stepped inside.
“Hello?” she called.
Nothing. No answer.
“I don’t like this,” said Madeline.
“I don’t like any of this,” Sally said. “It’s freaking me out.”
“You should have seen my grandma this morning,” Madeline said. “She was acting all sorts of strange. That must have been when the lima beans had completely taken control of her. That was freaky!”
“No thanks,” said Sally. “Let’s split up and look around. They’ll probably be in some kind of packet, but not the packets that come stapled to the paper when you get flowers. That’s just plant food.”
“Split up?” Madeline asked. “That’s, like, the last thing you do in the middle of a scary movie!”
“Well, considering that we’re here and Gilbert is out there, I’d say we already broke that rule. Besides, we’ll find them quicker if we split up and look.”
“Okay, but stay close,” said Madeline. “There’s no telling where any more of those lima-bean lurkers might be hiding.”
Madeline searched one side of the store while Sally searched the other. After a few minutes of digging through drawers and bins and picking through shelves of floral supplies, Sally called out, “Here we are—soil-moisturizing crystals.” Sally turned the packet over and read the ingredients. “Sodium polyacrylate. Ingredient number one.”
Madeline grabbed a bucket. “Quick, fill this up with as many as you can find.”
Sally scooped handfuls of the packets into Madeline’s bucket until it was filled to the top.
“Now let’s go make it snow,” Sally said. “Let’s bring some winter chill!”
Madeline and Sally took turns carrying the bucket of sodium polyacrylate packets. They scampered across the metal bridge that spanned Wolf Creek and made sure to spit over the side. Neither one of them wanted that troll to come eat their toes in the middle of the night. They had enough problems as it was.
They turned at the school and passed the fire hall, keeping their eyes peeled for more lima-bean people. They didn’t see a soul. No one. It was very, very eerie. Someone, or something, had spray-painted Eat your LIMA BEANS! on the side of the abandoned factory. There it was, in bright green paint, on the faded, old brickwork.
Both girls shivered and kept on going, not bothering to linger at the creepy graffiti. They reached the baseball field, and Madeline pushed the chain-link fence open.
“We’d better hurry,” she said. “It’s only a matter of time before they find us.”
“In order to make the snow, we’re going to need lots of water,” Sally said. “I like Gilbert’s idea. We can use the field’s sprinkler system.”
“How do we mix in the sodio-whatcha-call-it—”
“Polyacrylate.”
“Yeah, that,” said Madeline. “Can we just dump it into the water or something?”
“I think so,” said Sally. “Maybe it’s like that volcano project we did in Ms. Baker’s class last year. Baking soda and vinegar and blammo! Eruption!”
“Only this time it’ll be snow,” Madeline said. “Cold, wet snow!”
“Are you sure you want to be trapped in here when the lima-bean zombies show up?” Sally asked.
“No,” Madeline said. “But I can’t think of any other way to get them in here. Hopefully we can make it really cold, really quick.”
“And what’s going to keep them in here when it does start getting really cold?” asked Sally.
“You,” said Madeline. “You and Gilbert will have to close the gate after the last of them gets in.”
“This is really risky,” said Sally.
Madeline thought back to when she had played in the Wolver Hollow open chess tournament and beat Mr. Wershoffer, the editor in chief of the Wolver Hollow Gazette and the town’s (former) top chess player. She’d gambled on a tricky move at the end and was able to win, but it had been close. If he’d chosen to move to one different square, she would have lost.
“Hey, Madeline,” said Sally, snapping her fingers. “You in there?”
“What? Oh, yeah… sorry. Sometimes you have to take a risk in order to be victorious. If we don’t stop them now, they’ll conquer all of Wolver Hollow, and what’s next? The rest of the country? The world? No, this ends here.”
Sally opened her mouth to answer, but a very loud, very frantic Gilbert cut in before she could.
“Madeline!” shouted Gilbert, running toward the baseball field as fast as he could. “Sally! They’re coming!”
Sally and Madeline sprang into action.
“I’ll find the water,” Sally said.
“I’ll angle the sprinkler heads up,” said Madeline.
Gilbert collapsed on third base.
“And I’ll… I’ll just catch my breath, if you don’t mind.”
A loud moaning could be heard not that far away. It was carried forward by a slight wintry wind.
“Madeline Harper,” called the group of voices. “Eat. Your. Lima beans.”
11
Madeline hurried from sprinkler head to sprinkler head, twisting, pulling, tugging, and angling them skyward. Fortunately for her, the Wolver Hollow Little League organization took very good care of their field. That meant lots of sprinkler heads for lots of watering.
“Lima beeeeeeeeeeans,” moaned the crowd of townspeople, rounding the corner from the old covered bridge.
Meanwhile, Sally raced around the maintenance sheds outside of the field, pulling open shed doors and reading maintenance signs. Finally she found what she was looking for: GROUNDS WATER in bright red letters on a bright yellow sign.
Sally tried to turn the wheel to open the top of the valve, but it wouldn’t move an inch.
“Help!” she hollered, trying to turn it with every bit of strength she had. “It won’t budge!”
Madeline risked a glance out through the ball field’s chain-link fence. They were coming. The entire horde. All green- and glowy-eyed and moving along one foot in front of the other. And her grandma was at the front of them all, leading the way.
“Gilbert,” Madeline said. “Gilbert, get up and go help her!”
“Do you know how far I had to run?” he asked.
Madeline folded her arms across her chest. “Do you know that if those lima-bean zombies get you, you won’t be running anywhere again, ever?”
Gilbert groaned and pulled himself to his feet.
“All right, all right,” he said. He forced himself over to where Sally sat, trying to twist the water reserve valve open.
Together they managed to get it to move one quarter turn. Then half a rotation, and then it started to turn more easily.
“High five!” said Gilbert.
“Up top!” said Sally, smacking Gilbert’s hand.
Grandma led the lima-bean people around the outside of the baseball field’s chain-link fence, getting closer and closer to the open gate.
Madeline adjusted the last of the sprinkler heads. They were now all angled upward, and if this whole water-and-sodium-something plan worked, the sprinklers would be spraying fake snow in a matter of minutes.
“Madeline Harperrrrrr,” said Grandma, wrapping her wrinkled fingers around the chain link.
“Right here,” said Madeline. She peeked over at Sally and Gilbert. The lid to the water tank was open, and Sally was dumping packet after packet of soil moisturizer into the water supply. “If you want me to eat my lima beans so bad, then come and get me!”
She backed up a few steps toward center field.
Grandma pulled herself through the open gate and lurched forward, driving toward the pitcher’s mound, her glowing eyes transfixed on Madeline. The rest of the lima bean–possessed town followed her.
“You have to eat your lima beans, dear,” Grandma said, her teeth smeared with a disgusting lima-bean paste. “Then you’ll be just… like… us.”
“I don’t want to be like you!” shouted Madeline. “I don’t want to eat my lima beans! I want to have my own opinion, and that opinion says NO to gross legumes! Sally, sprinklers!”
Sally dumped the last of the garden packets into the tank, and Gilbert slammed the lid closed.
“Get the gate,” Sally said. “When the last of them is through, close it.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I’m going to make it snow.”
Gilbert ran for the gate.
Sally opened the sprinkler control box.
Grandma led the horde toward center field.
And Madeline…
Madeline closed her eyes.
12
Madeline had only had her eyes closed for a moment when she felt the first flake land upon her skin. It was fluffy, it was wet, and it was cold.
She opened her eyes wide and gazed upward. Snowflakes fell from the sky in heavy, spiral spins. They sprayed out of every sprinkler head. It was truly a winter wonderland. Madeline did not get to enjoy it for long, however. Grandma was only a few feet away, reaching for Madeline with handfuls of lima-bean paste. It seemed like half the town was behind Grandma, all staggering toward Madeline with bean paste and green eyes. There was Lucinda, and Parker and Lucas. Samantha von Oppelstein was shuffling along next to the lunch lady and Nurse Farmer. Mr. Noffler and Mr. George from the grocery store were right behind them. Almost the entire town was packing into the baseball field. Even Mayor Stine was there, in his fancy top hat.
Madeline backed up a few steps, and when the last person stepped through the gate…
“Gilbert!” she shouted. “Close the gate!”
Gilbert pushed the ball field’s gate closed and locked it. Now the zombies were trapped inside the man-made snowstorm. And Madeline was trapped in there with them. She thought about climbing the chain-link fence that surrounded the field, but then they might climb after her. She had to keep them in here, in the snow, for as long as she could.
“How long do you think it’ll take before they get cold enough?” Sally called out to Madeline.
“I was hoping they’d be too cold already!” Madeline said. She rubbed her arms and wished she’d worn a warm jacket.
She backed up a few more steps. Pretty soon, she thought, she was going to be up against the fence.
“Eat your lima beans, Madeline Harper,” said Grandma.
“Lima beeeeeeeeeans,” moaned the rest of the crowd. “So good for you.”
“Just one bite,” said Grandma, swiping the air with her handful of mush.
Madeline pressed herself against the fence and turned her head away.
The snow kept falling and swirling, coating the baseball field, and Madeline, and the lima-bean zombies. Some of them stopped walking and stood still, shivering and rubbing their arms. Others began to bump into one another. Some of the lima-bean zombies spun in circles, almost like they were short-circuiting. The lima beans were losing control. They couldn’t even control people’s arms and legs right anymore. They must be getting awfully cold in there, Madeline thought.
“It’s working!” said Madeline.
“Madeline, look out!” yelled Gilbert.
Madeline ducked as Grandma thrust a goopy green pile of beans where Madeline’s face had just been. It hit the fence with a wet splat.
“Sorry, Madeline’s grandma,” Gilbert said, “but you asked for this!”
He pulled back his arm and let a snowball fly. It hit Grandma right in the shoulder. Grandma shivered for a second and hesitated, just long enough for Madeline to scoop up a snowball and pelt Mr. George, who stood next to Grandma. For a moment, his eyes stopped glowing.
But then he blinked a few times, and they went back to that unnatural sheen.
“Gilbert, make more snowballs!” Sally said.
Gilbert began scooping and packing snowballs as fast as he could. Sally maneuvered the pitching machine into place and aimed it at the lima-bean people.
“Batter up!” said Gilbert, handing Sally a snowball.
She dropped it into the machine, and it came flying out, striking Mr. Noffler with a loud thwack!
Sally fired snowballs at the zombies as fast as Gilbert could feed them to her. Madeline scooped and threw, scooped and threw. The snow was ankle-deep now and still falling. Her teeth chattered, her fingers were Popsicles, and her breath came out in frosty clouds. She was freezing! Surely, the rest of the town had to be just as cold.
Madeline couldn’t scoop another snowball. She had to rub her hands together to keep her blood flowing.
But then it happened.
The townsfolk completely stopped shuffling and shambling. They stopped moaning about lima beans. The green light went out of their eyes, and they stood there, shivering and confused.
“Madeline?” Grandma asked. “Why are we at the baseball field? And where is your coat?”
“I don’t remember scheduling a class trip,” said Mr. Noffler, scratching his head.
“I’m sure I was just stocking shelves,” said Mr. George. He rubbed his chin.
Madeline leaned in closer to Grandma. “Are you sure you don’t want me to do something? You know… eat my…?”
“Whatever are you going on about, Madeline?” asked Grandma. “It’s far too cold for silly games. Now let’s get in somewhere warm and toasty!”
Madeline smiled and relaxed. They’d done it. They’d frozen those lima beans once and for all. They’d saved the town! They’d saved the world!
Thwack! A wet snowball wiped the smile from her face, and when she opened her eyes, Grandma was laughing at her.
“Maybe it’s not too cold for all silly games,” said Grandma. “Snowball fight!”
Mr. Noffler pegged Mr. George in the side, and Mr. George knocked Mayor Stine’s hat off his head. Lucinda nailed Parker and Lucas before they could even make a snowball. Sally and Gilbert and the rest of the town joined in, and W
olver Hollow had the biggest snowball fight it had ever seen.
By the time they were done, the only thing anyone wanted was a cup of hot chocolate.
And maybe an explanation for how they’d all wound up standing in the snow in the middle of the baseball field.
But nobody, nobody, wanted to eat their lima beans.
Not then.
Not the next day.
Not ever again.
13
One week later Old Giroux, the cemetery caretaker, listened to his stomach rumble.
“All right, all right, I hear ya,” said Old Giroux. It was dinnertime, and he was hungry, and his stomach was letting him know that it wanted food.
He hobbled over to the cupboard and pulled the door open.
“Let’s see,” he said, scratching his chin.
Rows upon rows of canned vegetables lined the cupboard.
“Corn? Nah. Peas? Nope. Carrots? Not tonight. Beets? Save them for tomorrow. Here we go.”
He reached in and set a can down on the table.
The label had two words stamped across the front: LIMA BEANS.
Old Giroux opened the can and turned to find a spoon.
If he had turned back around right then, he might have seen those lima beans glowing green. He might have seen them moving in the can.
When he did turn back around, none of those things were happening.
Old Giroux’s stomach rumbled again.
He put that spoon in the can, scooped up a heaping pile of lima beans, and brought it to his lips.…
Greetings, friends. It’s me again… the Keeper. I know what you’re thinking. I know that you’re worried that Old Giroux shoveled those lima beans into his mouth and that his eyes turned green and glowy and that the whole mess started all over again. But that is not at all what happened.