Suddenly I feel my heart pounding. “250 years?” “And what’s more, there’s been a $7 million reward for it since 2244.”
“Oscar,” I say, looking down at his big electronic eyes, “is there any way you can tell us where he took that photo?”
Oscar shakes his head. It seems he’s done all he can.
“Just a sec,” says Jessie slowly. “Does the phone have a settings button?”
“Let’s have a look.”
I swipe back to the first screen and press every icon there is. The only other one that seems to work is a grey, wheel-shaped one. It takes us through to a list of phone functions. Wallpaper, Notifications, Podcasts ... None of them mean a thing to me, until I scroll down and see a function named Location Services.
“I think you’re onto something!” cries Jessie.
I hit the Location Services button and see another list of icons — miniature versions of the icons that were on the screen a few seconds ago. Each mini-icon has an on-off button beside it. The button beside the camera icon seems to be in “off” position, so I swipe it sideways and it changes color from grey to green. I don’t know if I’ve achieved anything, but I flick back to the park photo and see if anything’s changed.
Jessie suddenly gives me a big hug. “Look at the bottom of that photo!” she yells. “This is huge!”
I tap on the photo. It doubles in size, and I notice a small box on the bottom left side of it. It says:
37° 48’ 46.4” S, 144° 58’ 11.3” E.
“Unbelievable!” cries Jessie.
“Unbelievably boring!” I reply. “It just looks like math to me.”
“No, no, no! Those figures tell us exactly where he was when he took the photo! If they’re correct, the $7 million statue might still be in the same place.”
Suddenly she’s getting through to me. The mention of a $7 million reward seems to have blasted some of the wax out of my ears!
“How about we all go down now and see what’s there?” I say.
“I’m stuck here today,” replies Jessie, “but first thing tomorrow morning, we’re there!”
Oscar wags his tail in approval.
“This could be a very big deal,” says Jessie. “But don’t tell anyone - if word gets out, there’ll be 10,000 beagle-bots sniffing around with $10,000 bills in their eyes. And their owners, too!”
“Don’t worry, Jessie,” I say. “We’ve got 7 million very good reasons to keep our mouths shut!”
CHAPTER 3
Down to the Ground
That night, I’m lying in our packing case, snug as a slug in my warmest blanket, but I can’t get to sleep. I can’t stop thinking about that statue, and the $7 million that might go along with it ...
At 5:30 a.m., I give Oscar a nudge.
“Hey, Oscar,” I whisper, “how about a little trip down to ground level?”
Oscar yawns and slowly stands up on all fours as I slip the phone into my pocket. He doesn’t look too pleased, but he leads the way to the air-vent pipe we use to come and go when Jessie’s not here. It’s easy to enter from - it’s just a quick slide down from a laneway up at street level - but it’s not so easy to exit from. We have to climb on a packing case to reach the vent, then hoist ourselves up an old rope that Jessie attached to the top of it for us. It’s hard work, but we’re lucky to have it - Jessie would be in big trouble with the museum if they knew she was letting us live here.
We climb up and out, into the laneway at the top, and jog toward the Skyburb Down-station. When we get there, I look up at the schedule. Luckily, we only have to wait about ten minutes before our Skyburb - Skyburb 6 - pulls in above the ground-level docking station.
With the sun’s first rays spreading across the land, Bluggsville looks like a beautiful canyon of tall buildings amongst the orange smog. As our Skyburb docks above the station and we step into our air cell, the sun hits my eyes. I have to close them and keep them shut as our cell hisses and shoots down toward the ground.
When we step out at ground level, there’s hardly anyone around. Still, I make sure no one sees the ancient treasure I’m hiding in my pocket. I wait until we’re in a dark alleyway before I take it out and turn it on. Straightaway, I bring up the statue photo and zoom all the way in to the location coordinates.
“Okay Oscar,” I say, “remember these figures.”
I read them out again, and Oscar shoots a holographic map into the air above his back. A white cross appears on the map in the exact location I’ve just given him. According to the map, the photo’s location is about two kilometers from where we’re standing at this very moment. It seems to be near one end of a large park on Bunjil Street.
It’s a bit far to walk, so we run for the nearest zip-coaster station and leap over the barricades. A few seconds later, the next zip-coaster slides in. We climb into the first carriage and strap ourselves in. It takes off at high speed and zooms upward, looping-the-loop before we tip sideways, then upside down, then back to upright as we pull into the next station.
The park’s only a short walk from the station. When we get there, we see a big green sign that says Griddle Park. Half of the park is a dusty paddock with a few wisps of grass peeping out of the ground here and there. The rest of the park is taken up by a hover-skate obstacle track. Even at this early hour - 6:33am - it’s busy with hover-skaters, racing each other around and showing off their tricks.
“Can you show me the location for that photo again?” I ask Oscar.
Oscar brings the map up, and pinpoints the exact location. It’s just beside the fence at the other end of the park.
We run to the precise spot, but there’s no sign of any statue. Then it occurs to me - this is where the photo guy was standing, not where the statue would have been. If I’m not mistaken, it would’ve stood right in the middle of the hover-skate track ...
Oscar sighs and looks up at me.
“Yep,” I agree, “it looks like the hover-skaters have taken over the mayor’s favorite hangout spot.”
We run to the edge of the track. With all of those hover-skaters zipping past, it’s way too dangerous to try to cross it. Our only option is to crawl across the dusty surface on our bellies.
“Alright, Oscar,” I gulp. “Time to get our tummies dirty.”
I lead the way, crawling on my stomach like a flat crab, and nearly choking on the dust.
It’s just as well hover-skates really do hover. The skaters zoom over us with just a few centimeters of clear air above. As each skater flies over, their skates throw even more dust into our faces. This really isn’t much fun, but we keep crawling for another ten meters.
“So,” I yell to Oscar, “if I’m correct, we’re just two meters from where the statue would have stood, all those years ago.”
I ask him to activate his in-built metal detector.
At first, it only beeps when a hover-skate swishes over us. But as we crawl those last few meters, it squeals out a rapid pulse of beeps that get louder and louder as we wriggle forward. Finally, the beeps squawk like a police siren and Oscar’s tail shoots straight up.
“It sounds like you’ve got something, pup!”
Oscar replies by popping out his claws and scratching at one particular spot on the ground. I crawl up beside him and try to dig with my bare fingers, but the ground is too hard for me to be much help.
After a few minutes of digging, there’s a hole the size of a shoebox in front of Oscar. And then, I hear myself gasping as the early morning sun catches hold of something shiny on the edge of the hole.
We throw our claws and fingers onto it, and very soon there’s a metal head and torso, the size of my hand, sticking out of the ground. As we dig further, the ground starts to get a little softer. After a few more minutes of hard digging, we’ve revealed the entire body of a man, holding a long sword upright in front of him. He’s only about two hands tall. The strangest thing about him is that he seems to have a life-size metal hand wrapped around his legs.
“Qu
ick, Oscar,” I say. “Take a photo of him and feed it into the Splinternet. We need to know who this could be.”
Oscar does as I ask, but just before the Splinternet gives us a search result, we hear a loud whistle, and a voice booming through a loudspeaker.
“Skates off!” it yells. “Line up along the side of the track with your ID badges in your hands.”
It’s a very familiar voice - a voice that sends a very big shiver up my spine. “It’s Selby,” I whisper to Oscar. “I think we’re in a bit of trouble ...”
My old friend Captain Selby ... Ever since we escaped the Skyburb 7 Home for Unclaimed Urchins two years ago, he’s been trailing us up and down the Skyburbs of Bluggsville like a hungry hyper-hound. He has my picture on the back of the folder he carries around. So far, he’s failed to catch us every time. But there’s a first time for everything, and I’ve got a very bad feeling today could be it.
One thing I definitely know - we won’t be joining Selby’s ID line-up. We frantically shovel dirt back over the hand of our statue, and pat it down as hard as we can. Then, we crawl further across the track, scanning the ground for a dip or a ditch we can hide in. The best we can find is a little ditch in the dirt under a wooden jump ramp. We crawl in and curl up like sleeping sloths, but just a few seconds later, one of Selby’s lieutenants lowers his head to our level and grabs hold of Oscar’s tail.
It’s all over.
“Let go of him!” I yell. “Take me if you have to, but leave my dog alone!”
The lieutenant doesn’t take any notice of me, but Oscar nips his hand. He lets go of Oscar and grabs me instead, dragging me all the way out of the ditch. I’ve got no choice but to follow him over to the ID line-up, where the hover-skaters are already standing in a row. Oscar follows along, beeping like an angry parrot.
As soon as he sees me, Selby winks and cackles. “You’re getting careless in your old age, Booth. Of all the places to find my favorite pair of rats ... here?”
“Button your lips, Smellby,” I hiss. “I’d rather be a part-time rat than a full-time parasite like you.”
“There’ll be plenty of parasites to play with where you’re going back to,” he laughs.
Selby’s clearly found the one thing he was looking for. He lets the hover-skaters go back to their fun, and his squad makes a circle around Oscar and me.
I look down at Oscar, and he looks up at me. Both of our faces tell the same story - we’re in big trouble this time. If they take me back to the home, they’ll sell Oscar and wipe his memory. We’ll never be friends again. And Jessie won’t even know what’s happened to us.
I’ve just about given up hope when I put my hand in my pocket and feel a familiar object in there. It’s the phone, squished against my leg. I slide it up just far enough for a little bit of it to peep out above the top of my pocket, and then I cough at Oscar. He looks up and sees the phone, and gives me a wink.
The phone’s still connected to the cord. I throw the end of it down to Oscar. Before any of Selby’s crew knows what’s happening, Oscar puts his tail into spin mode and brushes it against the wires at the end of the cord. A fresh charge of electricity pulses up the cord and into the phone - it even gives my hand a little zap.
I open the phone’s camera and switch the flash unit on, and then - without any warning - I scream into Oscar’s left ear. It gives him such a fright, he sends an extra jolt of electricity through the cord. As the fresh charge hits the phone, the camera’s flash unit lights up like a firecracker.
The lieutenant in front of me freezes. His eyes are so wide, he looks like a hairy tree frog! I look around and see the rest of the squad, squinting and blinking and trying to work out where they are.
Now’s our chance. I leap onto the ground and crawl through the nearest pair of legs. Oscar follows close behind. While Selby and his friends shake their heads and stagger around in circles, we start running across the park. A few seconds later, I hear that familiar voice again.
“Nice move, Booth,” yells Selby, “but not nearly as nice as this one.”
I look back over my shoulder and see a huge net flying toward us. It’s spreading out from the barrel of Selby’s web gun. Before we know it, Oscar and I are both enclosed in a big black string net. It feels like we’ve been caught in a spider web. It feels a lot like we’re about to be gobbled up, too.
All we can do is roll across the ground. As we roll, we drag the net onto the hover-skate track. It’s a dangerous move, but it pays off. A second later, the nearest hover-skater zooms over the top of us. The white-hot hover-blades on the bottom of his skates slice through the netting, and make a hole just big enough for us to fit through. Just as Selby and his team reach the track, Oscar and I climb out of the net. We drop down onto our bellies and crawl across the track like a pair of hyper-charged jelly babies!
As we reach the far edge of the track, I look back and see the entire Recapture Squad on the track, doing their best to dodge the skaters. One of them isn’t fast enough - a skater crunches into him and they both tumble across the ground. Selby manages to make it to the other end of the track, but by then we’re already at the far end of the park, running as fast as we can.
As our feet thud onto the Bunjil Street footpath, Oscar uses his 3D printer to give Selby a little present. It’s a brown plastic dog poo, with very slippery sides. He doesn’t seem happy to leave just one - as we sprint away, he sprays the footpath with a smattering of plastic presents! They look incredibly real — the only thing missing is the smell.
The next thing we know, Selby’s tumbling over the top of them and crashing onto the ground. Behind him, the rest of his team are still trying to make their way across the track, and getting angrier and angrier with the hover-skaters.
We don’t stop running until we’re safely back at the Skyburb Up-station. I finally dare to take another look over my shoulder. There’s no sign of Selby. Even better, the signs tell us Skyburb 6 is only two minutes away from docking and sucking us straight back up to the safety of our storeroom.
CHAPTER 4
Another Excursion
Twenty minutes later, we’re back at the storeroom. Jessie isn’t there, and her workshop’s locked up, but there’s a note on our packing case:
Gone to a meeting but noticed you weren't here. Tried to call you. Let me know you’re ok.
J.
“Oscar,” I say, “did you have any missed calls while we were out?”
Oscar activates his display panel and we see two missed-call alerts, both from Jessie.
Gulp ...
“What do we say to her?” I ask.
Oscar looks at me with a straight face and unblinking eyes.
“I know, I know ... the truth, the truth, but ...”
Oscar raises a paw into the air.
“Alright, Oscar. The truth! She may not like it, though.”
I ask Oscar to send Jessie a text message, telling her we got a bit overexcited and went on a statue hunt ... and that we think we’ve found Mayor Squidman ... but that someone else might have seen her too.
Straightaway, Oscar’s “incoming call” button starts flashing. He opens his back panel and a small metal arm lifts out his phone goggles. I put them on and see Jessie’s face, looking strangely pale.
“Max!” she yelps. “What happened?”
“Well, we checked out the coordinates, and yep, there’s some kind of statue there. It seems to have been buried for a long time.”
“That’s fantastic!”
“Well, yeah, except, we were digging it up when we were rudely interrupted by the Recapture Squad ...”
“Did they see what you were doing?”
“It’s certainly possible.”
Jessie looks down and sighs.
“I’m sorry, Jessie. Don’t be angry.”
“I’m not angry. I’d just hate Selby to be the one to dig it up. Who knows what he’d do with it. And he definitely doesn’t deserve $7 million for our hard work.”
“Don�
��t worry,” I reply. “We won’t let that happen, will we, Oscar?”
Oscar nods, slightly. I’m not sure he believes me. “I can’t even help you,” Jessie says. “I’m in Zaggtown until tomorrow, on museum business.” “So, what should we do?”
“Nothing, until I get back. It’s way too dangerous with Selby poking around.”
“But Jess ...”
“Promise me you’ll keep out of his way. It’s not worth going back to the Home for this.”
“Okay ... I, um ... promise.”
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