by John Purcell
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Our next problem had nothing to do with Queen Scarlett.
Route 295 curved northward for half a mile, then entered a long straightaway. We soon came to a point where a wide, muddy stream had overflowed its banks, swallowing up a portion of the parkway. It hadn’t looked like much on the map.
The water that flowed across the roadway was only a couple of inches deep. Luma said, “My feet are burning up! I’m going to cool off!” She ran ahead and splashed into it.
Bim said, “That’s probably a bad idea.”
Something shot out of the stream. It cleared the guardrail and landed on the roadway, some sort of fish or eel, about 3 feet long. It skidded across the wet moss and came to rest at Luma’s feet.
For a moment, she just stared at it in puzzlement. I could see now that it wasn’t an eel. It was using its front fins to brace itself as it slapped the water with its tail. A second fish sailed over the guardrail and skidded across the road.
Bim said, “Tell her to run.”
I called out to Luma, already sprinting in her direction.
The fish lunged forward, sinking its teeth into her ankle. As she screamed in pain, trying to shake it off, two more fish jumped the guardrail.
Dogan and Bim sprinted with me, but I left them behind. The three fish on the pavement were dragging themselves toward Luma with their front fins. I quickly chopped them in two with my ax, buying a little time, but fish were jumping the guardrail from all directions now.
I told Luma to hold still and chopped the fish on her ankle in half. Even in death, the head refused to let go. I pried its jaws apart and tossed it aside. Blood poured from the wound.
I glanced around. Bim was already past us, halfway to the other side. Moto and Dogan were battling fish, a waste of time. I scooped up Luma and shouted, “Let’s go!”
We all ran for the far side of the stream, jumping the fish that had landed and ducking the ones coming over the guardrail. We came splashing out of the water at about the same time and kept running for another 50 yards.
I was about to put Luma down when Bim said, “They’re still coming.”
We turned to look. The fish were beyond the edge of the water now, hauling themselves across dry land.
Bim said, “Snakeheads, a type of Asian carp. They can breathe out of water.”
The fish weren’t difficult to outpace, but we needed to stop and tend to Luma’s wound. We set off again at a run.
A quarter mile to the north, 295 crossed over Route 895. Once we were on the other side of the bridge, I chose a spot on the weed-covered median strip and set Luma down. We huddled around her. Moto kept an eye on the advancing fish.
Bim poured water from the VaporFlask onto Luma’s ankle, washing away the blood. The snakehead’s teeth had made multiple gashes, two curving rows of them. I realized that we hadn’t brought medical supplies of any kind.
Bim reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of paper envelopes.
I said, “What are those?”
Bim handed them over. “Dr. Nightingale gave them to me. They’re some sort of Band-Aid.”
I tore open one of the envelopes and withdrew a square of clear plastic. It didn’t look like it would do much good.
The wound needed a moment to dry, so I stood up and checked on the snakeheads. They were tiring out and turning back. I knelt down again and placed the clear plastic square on Luma’s ankle. The square turned invisible, pulling the edges of the gashes together. The bleeding stopped.
Luma said, “Wow, what did you just do?”
Moto growled, looking into the woods that bordered the highway to the east. Leaves began to rustle and I could make out shapes moving through the trees. A LobeBot emerged from the woods, moving silently up the shoulder and onto the pavement. Another emerged, then two more, then five. Moments later, an entire platoon of LobeBots was fanning out across the highway to the north.
As I pulled Luma to her feet, I looked back the way we’d come. More LobeBots were appearing from a hiding place beneath the parkway bridge, climbing up the embankments on both sides, blocking the highway to the south.
I looked across the median strip. Just as many LobeBots were coming out of hiding on the other side of the parkway, out of the trees and up the shoulder.
Soldiers in the grass, lying in ambush.
Ascend to those high hills.
They shall not rise for three years
Our only hope of escape was to the west, where an onramp came spiraling up from 895, merging with 295 South. Because this loop offered no cover, it was the one area free LobeBots.
I pointed out this gap to the Three and they took off toward it.
I turned to Moto. “You guard their right, I’ll guard their left.”
We zipped past them as the LobeBots closed ranks ahead of us, trying to seal off our escape route. Moto began dropping the ones on her side and I did the same on mine. Both of us worked furiously, trying to keep the gap open. Deactivated LobeBots began piling up, creating makeshift barriers that slowed the others down.
The Three flew through the gap, jumped the guardrail, and raced down the onramp. Moto and I dropped what we were doing and charged after them.
How could we ascend to those high hills when the landscape was perfectly flat?
Through the trees, I glimpsed a rusty chain link backstop. We were passing a baseball diamond. I overtook the Three, saying, “Follow me,” and cut through the tangled underbrush to our right. We burst out onto a weed-choked field. Nothing was left of the baselines or the pitcher’s mound, but I found what I was hoping for.
A set of tall aluminum bleachers, tarnished but intact, bordered what was once the outfield. I pointed it out to the Three, saying, “Up the bleachers, to the top!”
The LobeBots were pouring down from the parkway now, plowing through the underbrush and making their way around the backstop.
I joined the Three on the top row and watched the LobeBots fill the ball field. As they gathered in front of the bleachers, staring up at us, I took a head count. There were 317 of them in all.
The LobeBots began trying their luck on the stairs. Most of them couldn’t balance on one foot for any length of time and toppled over backwards or sideways. But some fared better, making it up the first two or three rows. Whenever they got that far, Moto would spring from the top and slam them in the chest with her hind legs. The same force that sent them toppling backwards also launched her into a back flip, landing her right where she started.
Moto would have played this game all afternoon, but we couldn’t afford to stay trapped on the bleachers, waiting for Queen Scarlett’s next attack. Esmeralda’s words came back to me: Everything she does has a flaw. You just have to find it.
There was something odd about the LobeBots’ behavior, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I turned to Bim. “They’re different somehow. What did Queen Scarlett change?”
“Hard to say. She doesn’t have much brainpower to work with.”
“We were on the median strip for a couple of minutes before they attacked us. Why didn’t they attack right away?”
“I can think of one reason.”
“What?”
“They couldn’t see our faces. As soon as we got there, we all gathered around Luma. You finally stood up and turned around and that was the first time they got a good look at you. Then they attacked.”
“Are you saying Queen Scarlett programmed them to recognize us?”
Bim shook his head. “Too much processing. I think one face would be their limit.”
“She programmed them to recognize me?”
“There’s an easy way to find out.”
The test only took a minute. I asked the Three to move one row down, leaving the top row to me. I started at one end and walked the length of t
he bleachers. Every LobeBot in the outfield turned its head, following my movements. I reversed direction, repeating the test. All eyes were on me as I walked back to where I’d started.
I had Luma conduct the same test while I sat with the others. The LobeBots never looked her way. All eyes remained fixed on me.
I stood up and shrugged off my backpack, addressing the Three. “I’m going to distract the LobeBots. Once their backs are turned, everyone run for it. Moto, too. Go down the embankment and take cover under the overpass.”
Luma said, “What are you going to do?”
I pulled a shock wand out of my backpack and turned it on. The indicator light flashed red. I said, “If this thing still works, I’m going to attract a drone.”
The LobeBots were packed tightly together, pushing toward the bleachers. I skipped down to the third row and jumped from there, landing atop the heads of two adjacent LobeBots. When they reached up to grab at my feet, I hopped over to a different pair. When those two reached up, I hopped again. In this fashion, I made my way toward the center of the crowd.
If my plan was going to succeed, I needed to remain visible to every LobeBot on the field. Looking back the way I’d come, I could see that the LobeBots on the edge of the crowd had turned away from the bleachers, keeping me in sight. I watched the Three hurry down the steps and race off toward the parkway.
That was fine as far as it went, but if the shock wand turned out to be dead, I had no backup plan of any description. I bent down and tested it on a nearby SaniTron. The moment the tip touched the LobeBot's forehead, blue sparks flew, a welcome sight indeed. The shock had no effect, but that didn't matter. I jolted the SaniTron a second time and more sparks crackled through the air. Dumb luck had rescued me again.
After that, it was a matter of waiting. I passed the time dancing from head to head, keeping as close to the center of the crowd as possible.
Before long, I heard the whine of an approaching drone. That was my cue to disappear. Planting my foot on a PilotTron’s face, I gave it a good shove backwards. This created a momentary opening in the pack, and I dropped into the gap before it closed.
I found myself in a shadowy world of ankles and shins. Setting down the shock wand, I threaded my way through this obstacle course, emerging near the bleachers and rolling under them. From my hiding place, I took a moment to peer out at the LobeBots. They were still tightly packed, pressing toward the center, where they’d last seen me.
The whine grew so loud that even the LobeBots noticed and began looking skyward. I wondered if they knew they were about to die. My plan suddenly seemed cruel.
I ran for the parkway myself, tearing through the underbrush and up the onramp. The drone came in over my head. Out of time, I took the embankment in a single leap, tumbling onto Route 895. As I scrambled under the overpass and up to the Three, an explosion rocked the earth.
The sound echoed and died away and then bits and pieces of LobeBots began raining down. Protected by the overpass, we watched shards of metal shower the ground, along with the occasional hand or foot. Heads came bobbling down the embankment. Scraps of cloth drifted through the air.
Dogan ran his hand through his hair. “Man oh man, there’s nothing left of them!”
Luma said, “Queen Scarlett won’t be happy about this.”
I was thinking the same thing.
I said, “Everyone take a good long drink from the VaporFlask. We’re going to run the rest of the way.”
We returned to the median strip and gathered up our things. We were still about 4 miles from downtown Baltimore. Fortunately, the sun was low in the sky now and the Three didn’t need their umbrellas. As we set out at a jog, clouds were already gathering in the western sky. I didn’t point them out.
It took us just about 10 minutes to cover the first mile. By then, maroon clouds had blotted out the sun. I paused for a moment to let the Three catch their breath. High above, out of range of the slingshot, another SpyClops was circling us. I didn’t point that out, either.
Luma said, “She sending a tornado, isn’t she?”
I said, “If we can get to Baltimore first, she’ll have to call it off.”
Bim said, “I don’t think that’s likely. It’s forming very quickly.”
I had a backup plan, but I was saving it as a last resort.
I said, “I’m not giving up yet. Let’s keep moving.”
We ran the next mile at full speed. This brought us to the Interstate 95 interchange, a tangle of looping onramps and off ramps. We crossed under the first overpass, which was only two lanes wide and offered little protection. Next, we came to I95 itself, a wide, 12 lane, double overpass. We took shelter under it and assessed the situation. The clouds, reddish black now, were surging toward us, swallowing up the sky.
Luma said, “We’ll never make it!”
Bim nodded in agreement. “We need another plan.”
Somehow, Luma knew what I had in mind. “Get that box of hers out of your backpack! If she sees it she’ll call off the storm, just like the water spout!”
She was right, but before I showed the box to Queen Scarlett, I wanted to know what was inside. There was still time to find out. I retrieved it from my backpack and examined the lock. It was as old fashioned as the box itself, a simple keyhole in the front.
I addressed the Three. “Does anyone know how to pick a lock?”
They all shook their heads.
I turned the box around and examined the hinges. They were joined together with screws. All we had to do was remove these and open the lid from the opposite side.
Dogan cried, “Look!”
We followed his point. A funnel cloud was making its way to the ground.
I said, “Dogan, give me your jackknife!”
He said, “Are you nuts? We have to get out of here!”
“And go where?”
“We have to get to a basement or something!”
“This tornado will obliterate everything in its path, basements included.”
“Then we should hide somewhere!”
“We can’t. There’s a SpyClops watching us.”
“But, but, but…”
“Just give me the jackknife!”
Dogan handed it over. The blade, too dull to cut well, made a fair screwdriver. I removed the screws from both hinges, raised the lid, and reached inside.
The box contained some sort of handheld electronic device. I withdrew it, put it in my pocket, and quickly reassembled the hinges.
The funnel cloud touched down about a mile away, sucking up material from the ground and expanding into a massive column of churning debris. It was heading directly for us.
When I handed the box to Luma, she misunderstood. She ran out from beneath the overpass and lifted the box to the sky, hoping the SpyClops would catch sight of it. I knew that wouldn’t work.
I called Moto to my side, opened her storage compartment, and snatched up the SpyClops trapped inside, making sure to keep its eye uncovered. I joined Luma out in the open and asked her to hold the box steady. Using the SpyClops as a camera, I did my best to get a good close up.
This seemed to have no effect. The tornado, a half-mile away now, continued roaring toward us. I had a strong impulse to throw Luma over my shoulder and outrun it on my own. When I looked at her, she shouted, “Don’t you dare pick me up!”
I tossed the SpyClops away and pulled her back beneath the overpass, calling out to Bim and Dogan, “Get down behind the supports!”
This wouldn’t save us from a direct hit, but it was possible Queen Scarlett was only toying with us. At this point, our lives depended on it.
The Three lay on their stomachs, doing their best to hug the concrete support. Moto and I sprawled across their backs, using our weight to hold them down. The roar grew louder still and the winds tore at our hair and clothes, trying to pull us into the sky.
And that was the worst of it.
The tornado seemed to stall right there, losing strength. Gradually, the winds died down and the roar subsided. Moto and I waited awhile, to be sure, then let the Three get to their feet.
We should have run the moment we’d had the chance. Out in the open, we would have seen her coming.
Queen Scarlett swooped into the underpass from the south, astride her gryphon. Its talons clamped around my waist, yanking me off my feet. We swooped out the other side and ascended into the sky.
At first, I was glad Queen Scarlett had whisked me off. We would have our showdown far away from the Three, where no one else could get hurt. And then I realized she would never let them off so easily. I knew I had to get back.
I looked up at the gryphon’s underbelly, searching for a way to bring it down, as fast and as hard possible. Bim had said she’d made her gryphon too big to fly, that she’d added an exoskeleton to provide extra strength to its wings. The exoskeleton was plain to see, a metal ribcage surrounding the gryphon’s torso. The two halves joined together at a metal breastbone that ran along the underbelly, well within my reach. This was crisscrossed with wires. I reached up and yanked out a handful.
It was that simple. The gryphon immediately began flapping its wings in panic, losing altitude. We were dropping fast toward an elevated onramp to I95.
As it braced itself for impact, the gryphon instinctively released me. I fell 50 feet to the mossy pavement, reaching the onramp first. I was already sprinting toward the gryphon as it came in for a hard landing. It must have whacked its head when it hit, because it keeled over, skidding to a halt on its side.
Queen Scarlett went over sideways with it, blood-red cloak billowing, and cracked her own head on the pavement. As she struggled to her feet, I tackled her from behind, slamming her head into the pavement again, face first this time. I rolled her onto her back and got my hands around her throat.
The face was all wrong. The voice was all wrong, too.
“Your diaper needs changing. Please come with me.”
I was battling a NanniTron. I released its throat and pressed the failsafe button on its ankle. The LobeBot went limp beneath me.
Queen Scarlett’s voice came from above. “You’re just no fun at all!”
I looked up to see her astride a second gryphon, hovering 30 feet above the ground, the box tucked under her arm. Luma was draped across her lap, face down, unconscious.
Queen Scarlett said, “You blunder right into every trap! It’s like you’re not even trying!”
“Set Luma down and I’ll take her place!”
She shook her head, smiling. “I prefer things as they are! Surrender by nightfall and I’ll let her live! Don’t be late!”
The gryphon pumped its wings and climbed into the sky, vanishing into the clouds.
In a strange way, I wasn’t concerned about Luma. I was confident Queen Scarlett wouldn’t harm her unless I were there to witness it. I was more concerned about what she’d done to Bim and Dogan. I knew I should get back to them right away, but there was something I had to do first.
The downed gryphon had skidded to a halt against the guardrail and was lying still, breathing rapidly. One of its wings was pointing to the sky, the other was stretched out across the pavement. I circled around it and approached from the front. As I suspected, it had been knocked unconscious during the landing.
Its head was enclosed in a leather harness with reins attached. I looped the reins around the guardrail and tied them securely. Then I vaulted the guardrail, dropping to the roadway below. The gryphon hadn’t carried me far: the double underpass was just a hundred yards to the south. I sprinted the distance and found Bim and Dogan where I’d left them.
Bim was kneeling over Dogan, applying Band-Aids to his face, closing up the gouges that ran from cheekbone to chin. Dogan’s shirt was soaked with blood.
Dogan wasn’t making the job any easier, twisting his head impatiently, saying, “Come on, come on, hurry up! We have to save Luma!”
I said, “Hold still, Dogan. Bim’s almost done.”
Bim looked up at me. “The first thing she did was rake her fingernails down his face.”
“What did she do to Luma?”
“Knocked her out with an uppercut to the jaw.”
“And what did she do to you?”
Bim turned back to Dogan, applying the last Band-Aid. “I picked up the box and ran.”
“Really? What for?”
“To create the impression we hadn’t opened it.”
“Good thinking. Did it work?”
“I believe so. She chased me down and snatched it out of my hands. She was so happy to have it back, she forgot to hurt me.”
Dogan sat up. “Why are we just sitting around? She’s got Luma!”
I said, “I know you won’t like this, Dogan, but we have to stick to the plan.”
“Are you kidding? We have to save her!”
I shrugged off my backpack and unzipped it. “I’m going after Luma. You’re going to rescue your father. That’s why you’re here.”
“But we could—”
I cut him off. “It’s better this way. Queen Scarlett knows I’m coming for Luma. She’ll be waiting for me. She won’t be paying any attention to the dungeons.”
Dogan climbed to his feet, beginning to see reason. “But how are you going to find Luma?”
I retrieved the second shock wand from my backpack. “I’ll start at the top and work my way down.”
“At the top of what? Queen Scarlett’s building?”
“Yes.”
“But how—”
I cut him off again. “You and Bim have to hurry. It’s almost dark. Thomas is waiting for you.”
I glanced around. “Wait a second. Where’s Moto?”
Bim stood up. “She’s over there, behind that support.”
I handed Bim the shock wand. “Is she hurt?”
“No. I think she’s just embarrassed.”
“About what?”
“She had her back turned when the second gryphon arrived. It landed right on top of her. She was stuck under it the whole time.”
I called to Moto. She came out from behind the support, looking sheepish and very dirty. Some of the gryphon’s filth had rubbed off on her while she was trapped underneath it. We couldn’t have created a more perfect disguise.
I knelt down and patted her head, smudging the dirt. “You have nothing to be ashamed of Moto. Without your help, we never would have gotten it this far. You’re a hero.”
She wagged her tail.
“But there’s still more work to be done. Are you up for it?”
She nodded.
“Good. Take care of Bim and Dogan. I’m going after Luma now.”
I stood up, turning to Bim. “First, though, you have to teach me how to whistle.”
“Right. And don’t forget you have salt.”