Born to Be Wild

by Matt London

  DO NOT TOUCH—seriously, if you touch this form I will flick your ear, and it won’t feel good. I promise you won’t like it. Then after I flick your ear I’ll kill you, so seriously, HANDS OFF.

  —BENJAMIN NAGG

  Rick crumpled the paper and tossed it aside, then carefully removed the glass case. There, lying flat and square on the table, like a place mat, was the Ultimate Continent Ownership Form. It looked so simple, so unambiguous, so unlike the other Winterpole documents he had studied. In fancy script, the piece of paper said, “By every island and isthmus, by every archipelago, whosoever holds this document shall possess full ownership of THE 8TH CONTINENT.”

  Rick shrugged and grabbed the paper off the table.

  The blaring alarm that immediately sounded should not have surprised him. Stuffing the ownership form into his satchel, he ran back up the tunnel, hit the button next to the vault door to open it, and then ducked into the hallway. The alarm was loud—teeth-achingly loud—and Rick could barely hear himself think. Diana was nowhere in sight. When the alarm sounded she must have run off. Good, Rick thought.

  He ran through the rocky tunnels, looking for a way out. He passed by the spot where they had encountered Benjamin, but the boy agent was gone. Rick kept going.

  The next hallway opened onto an underground river. The water surged, cascading over rocks and flowing through the tunnels. Feeling a cool mist on his face, Rick looked around for a way to get across. He spotted a narrow metal bridge over his head. He climbed up the rock wall one story to the bridge. Before Rick could start across the river, he realized he had company.

  Mister Snow stood on the bridge in a spotless white suit, holding an old-fashioned briefcase in one hand. He straightened his tie and silently watched Rick with eyes like laser beams.

  Rick opened his satchel and reached inside. His hand settled on the gag order he had brought with him. There was no chance he was going to let the Winterpole agent stop him. He took his first step onto the bridge. It wobbled a bit. The metal was wet and slippery.

  “Get out of my way, Mister Snow. I’m leaving with the ownership form.”

  Only the agent’s lips moved. “You always were the petulant one, Richard Lane. You always had to have your way. Just like your father.”

  “Don’t make me hurt you,” Rick said.

  With the flick of the agent’s finger, the briefcase popped open a few inches. Reams of cyber paper glowed inside. “I am not the slightest bit concerned about that, young man. You want to push paper with me? Go ahead and try.”

  “No talking!” Rick shouted, flinging the gag order across the bridge at Mister Snow. The small card of cyber paper flapped like a bird as it flew, but as it neared Mister Snow’s face, the agent produced a sheet of cyber paper from his briefcase and swung it at Rick’s gag order. “Cancel that command.” He spoke as calmly as an airline pilot. The gag order fizzled and fell to the ground. The glow of the cyber paper faded. Mister Snow had used his cancel order form and returned it to the briefcase in one fluid motion, like an iaido master.

  Rick had an excused absence sheet in his satchel. It would allow him to leave the complex unharmed. He reached into the satchel, but Mister Snow tore another sheet from his briefcase. “Privileges revoked!” There was a flash of yellow light. When Rick pulled at his excusal form, all the power had been drained from his cyber paper.

  “Now you are mine, Richard Lane. You will be remanded to our headquarters in Geneva for interrogation. I’ll make sure you’re never given permission to return to the eighth continent again.”

  Rick grabbed a lockdown order, but Mister Snow retaliated with a stunning attack from a cyber sheet. The sonic blasts knocked Rick back against the rails.

  “Give me the ownership form.”

  “Never!”

  “Then I’ll destroy it, along with you!”

  Mister Snow flung an expulsion certificate at Rick’s feet. It exploded, tearing a hole through the bridge and knocking Rick over the rails. He screamed as he fell. Mister Snow looked down at him, watching with a hardened glare.

  The icy drink swallowed Rick, sweeping him under.

  Evie struggled against the ropes that bound her wrists behind her back. No one noticed her attempts to escape. The bridge of the dreadnought was a flurry of activity. Mister Dark directed the movements of the hover shark over New Miami, while Viola Piffle led a team of technicians in arming several bombs with a supply of the silvery Anti-Eden Compound. Her razor-winged birds watched the scene from perches near the ceiling all around the bridge. Their devilish faces made Evie miss the Piffle Pink Patrol, as crazy as that seemed to her.

  Vesuvia stayed close to her mother, helping with the arming of the bomb, while Didi paced worriedly. 2-Tor sat beside Evie, his wings tied down against his sides.

  “I’m sorry I got us into this mess,” Evie whispered to 2-Tor. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t run off, you wouldn’t have had to chase after me. You’d still be a real bird, and none of this would have happened.”

  “Nonsense, my dear girl,” 2-Tor blubbered, his personality circuits going haywire. “I was taken in by a beguiling enemy and offered you unsound counsel. I promise if we get out of this scrape I will defend you to your family and anyone else, down to my last percent of battery.”

  “Thanks, 2-Tor,” Evie sniffled, leaning against the bird’s metal frame.

  “There,” Viola said with cold satisfaction, stepping away from her bomb and smoothing her hair against her head. “Assembly complete. The chairman will be thrilled with our success.”

  “The chairman is never thrilled,” Mister Dark corrected. “But we have the Anti-Eden Compound. That’s what matters.”

  “Yes, truly.” With a wicked smile, Viola turned to Evie. “Your father’s chemical discovery was monumental, but he chose to forget that in actuality it belonged to us. Now it has returned to its rightful owners and has been weaponized, as it was meant to be.”

  “You’re monsters,” Evie spat.

  Viola shrugged dismissively. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, my dear. Don’t call us monsters until you witness us testing our superweapon. Speaking of which, I believe it’s time for a practical demonstration. Prepare to drop the Anti-Eden bomb!”

  Vesuvia said, “Mom, where should I tell them to direct the dreadnought?”

  “Why, nowhere, you stupid girl.” Viola patted the bomb like it was a prized cow. “All we need to test the bomb is a piece of the eighth continent. Our current location will suffice.”

  Looking very confused, Vesuvia stuttered, “But . . . New Miami is down there.”

  “Why, yes, of course, dear.” Her mother laughed. “We couldn’t very well test the power of the bomb on an uninhabited portion of the continent, could we? Besides, we have to destroy your oversized dollhouses if we’re going to make room for our weapons factories.”

  “F-factories?”

  Viola retched. “You really are dense. Dee-Two, haven’t you taught my stupid daughter anything? Dee-Two?”

  Didi suddenly jerked. She had been standing perfectly still, staring across the room at 2-Tor. “I am sorry, madame. Yes. My memory banks indicate successful education on a variety of topics.”

  Rolling her eyes, Viola said, “Will somebody set up this bomb, please?” The technicians ran to be the first to grab the bomb and start dragging it out of the bridge on a little dolly.

  “NO!” Vesuvia shrieked. “Don’t touch that. Nobody’s going to destroy New Miami. Nobody is going to bomb anything unless I say so!”

  “You really are foolish.” Her mother shook her head. “This isn’t the first bomb we are assembling. It’s the last. Release the bombs, Mister Dark.”

  The viewscreens hanging around the bridge switched to images of the dreadnought and New Miami. Bomb bays opened on the base of the shark, and two bombs tumbled out. They landed in the middle of New Miami
with a splash of silver liquid. Evie couldn’t look away. The Anti-Eden Compound chewed through the earth, morphing it back into trash—rotten food, plastic bags, broken machinery. Without the sturdy foundation, buildings buckled and collapsed. A hotel landed on top of a juice bar. The ground underneath a surf shop melted into Styrofoam cups, and the whole store floated out to sea.

  Vesuvia grabbed a chair and raised it over her head. “I said stop!” She swung hard, smashing the chair against the side of the bomb. “Don’t bomb New Miami! Don’t!” She struck the bomb again, putting a huge dent in the metal exterior.

  “Vesuvia!” her mother shouted, aghast.

  “Shut up, Mommy!” Vesuvia smashed the chair to pieces as she hit the bomb a third time, puncturing a hole in the metal shell. The hole started leaking silvery fluid.

  “Uh . . . Vesuvia . . .” Evie cautioned. “Maybe you should take it easy.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, Peevy Evie!” Vesuvia went into full-on tantrum mode. She ran into the bomb at full speed. It wobbled on the rolling dolly and toppled over. Viola stepped out of the way. The technicians ran for cover. As the bomb struck the floor, the shell split open, and the Anti-Eden Compound poured across the dreadnought’s bridge.

  “2-Tor!” Evie screamed as the flood rushed toward them.

  Cold, wet sand pressed against Rick’s face. That was the first thing he felt as he woke up in the dim light of dawn. He could feel water rushing over his feet. His arm underneath him had fallen asleep. Droplets of water covered his glasses, and his hair was soaking wet. The memory of his duel with Mister Snow returned—the embarrassing memory of getting his butt packaged in a petite box, wrapped in tinsel, and offered to him as a gift.

  At least he was in one piece. He tried to get up. Pain punched him in a dozen places from his forehead down to his toes. The burns on his back stung like hornets. He decided to stay put for a moment.

  A foot away from his face, Rick’s pocket tablet lay half-embedded in the sand. ONE UNVIEWED MESSAGE was blinking at him on the screen. He reached over, wiped some sand off the screen, and tapped on the message.

  Evie’s face appeared. She looked worried and out of breath, her head surrounded by darkness. “Rick . . . I’m sorry. I did a stupid thing. I wish I could take it all back, everything I did. But I can’t. I’m being held captive by Vesuvia’s mother on the west coast of the continent. She works for Mastercorp. I’m trying to escape, but this place is heavily guarded, and I don’t know if I’ll make it. If you don’t hear from me . . . please . . . come find me. I need your help. Rick . . . I—”

  A black boot came down and crushed the pocket tablet, shattering the screen, and Evie’s image, into a hundred triangles.

  Rick tried to look up at the person standing over him. He crouched down and, with a snap of his finger, flicked Rick’s ear.

  “Ow!” Rick said.

  “Shut up.” Benjamin flicked Rick’s ear again. “Didn’t you read my note? You should learn not to touch other people’s stuff.”

  “How did you—”

  Benjamin hopped up and kicked Rick hard in the stomach. Rick gasped as his air left him. He curled up, choking on his own throat.

  “Tsk, tsk, Lane. The smart move would have been to drown when Mister Snow threw you in the river. Now you have to deal with me.”

  Rick had to find a way to get out of this. Evie was in trouble. She needed his help. He had to get to her before Mastercorp did anything to her, or before Benjamin did anything else to him.

  “Give it to me,” Benjamin ordered, turning Rick over. He had a nasty, determined look on his face. “Give me that ownership form.”

  Rick grunted as Benjamin tore away his satchel and dug through it. He pulled out the Ultimate Continent Ownership Form and held it up triumphantly. “Aha! Here you are, my beauty.” He stuffed the form into his pocket, looking satisfied, and threw the satchel in the river. It sank below the surface and was carried downstream, between some trees.

  While Benjamin gloated, Rick tried to crawl away. Benjamin stepped on his foot, pinning him. “Ah, ah, ah! Not so fast, Lane. I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with you yet.”

  Clawing at the sand, Rick said, “Winterpole policy states that you need to return me unharmed to the nearest senior agent for interrogation.”

  Benjamin grabbed Rick’s shoulders and pulled him to his feet. The boy was surprisingly strong for his diminutive size, and when he dug his fingers into Rick’s blistering skin, the pain felt like he was being burned all over again. “And what makes you think I care about Winterpole policy?”

  Rick hesitated. “Uhh . . . because you’re a Winterpole agent? Because you . . .” He trailed off. Benjamin was smirking, and that grin twisted into the most demonic expression Rick had ever seen.

  “You understand now,” Benjamin said plainly.

  “You’re a double agent. You don’t work for Winterpole. You work for Mastercorp.”

  “That’s right, Ricky! You can’t imagine how painful it has been for me to put up with all their stupid rules and ancient technology. And the food is the blandest cardboard I’ve ever tasted. I cannot wait until we destroy Winterpole, and Mastercorp takes over as the world’s primary rule-making organization. Privatization! It’s the way of the future! Now come with me. It’s time for you to meet my boss.”

  Benjamin pulled Rick into a grove of trees, where his hovership was parked. He chained Rick to one of the seats in the cockpit and took off. Soon, they were flying west across the continent. Benjamin thought he had achieved a great victory, but unbeknownst to him, west, to Mastercorp, was exactly where Rick wanted to go.

  When Diana entered Mister Snow’s office, he was standing in the corner by the filing cabinet, sorting cyber paper documents. “What is it, Junior Agent?”

  She tried to collect her thoughts. She had known exactly what she wanted to say when she walked in the room, but now that she was here, all those great ideas had left her. “I, well, you see . . .”

  “Spit it out, Maple.” Mister Snow slammed the filing cabinet shut and returned to the high-backed chair behind his desk, which was completely empty except for a typewriter and two number two pencils.

  “I think we’ve been making a huge mistake about the Lanes.”

  “The Lane family is a menace,” Mister Snow explained. “We’ve been dealing with their troublemaking for years.”

  “But what exactly have they done? Rescued a few birds from endangered habitats? Transformed the Great Pacific Garbage Patch into the continent we’re standing on right now? I’d like to file this request form with you, sir.”

  Mister Snow picked up the paper she slid across the desk. “And what’s this?”

  “A formal request for you to give me a break, sir.” Diana was thoroughly expecting him to throw her out and possibly lock her up for insubordination, so there was no point in going halfway. “Mastercorp is the real problem. Polluting the earth, manufacturing weapons that are hard to regulate.”

  “Winterpole gives Mastercorp a pass because of the alliance your own mother negotiated,” Mister Snow said. “Do you realize you’re going against her by saying such treasonous things?”

  Diana swallowed. “I do realize this, sir, and I actually think the Lane family would make exceptional leaders of the continent.”

  “Better than us?!” Mister Snow asked, sounding appalled.

  “We’re rule enforcers,” Diana replied. “We are exceptional at that. But someone else should be the rule makers, don’t you think?”

  “I’ve been after George Lane for years. And ever since his pesky kids got in the mix, it’s been harder. Too hard!” Mister Snow’s face grew red as he spoke.

  “Rick and Evie fought to destroy the Great Pacific Garbage Patch,” Diana countered. “I can’t even imagine how much pollution they eradicated. It was a great deed. We owe them some credit for doing our job
for us. They are keeping the planet safe and clean.”

  Mister Snow scowled. “Reports have been flooding Winterpole Headquarters that Mastercorp has been damaging habitats on all eight continents.”

  “So don’t you think it’s time to change agency policy?” Diana asked.

  Mister Snow glared at her. She crossed her fingers and waited for him to speak.

  Evie scrabbled away from the Anti-Eden Compound as it oozed toward her. In the commotion, the pilot of the hovership slipped, and the dreadnought veered. Everyone stumbled around the bridge, trying to stay clear of the deadly compound. It seeped through cracks in the floor panels, dripping down into the rest of the ship.

  Mrs. Piffle swung at her daughter. “You idiot! Look what you’ve done, you spoiled brat.”

  “I hate you!” Vesuvia screamed, totally apathetic to the crisis on the bridge. “You lied to me! This was never part of the deal.”

  “Contain her, Mrs. Piffle!” Mister Dark ordered. “Or I will do it for you.”

  “Be careful, Evelyn.” 2-Tor struggled to his feet, straining against his bonds.

  Evie pulled away as the Anti-Eden Compound came closer. She didn’t know what would happen if she touched the compound, but she didn’t want to find out. Then she got an idea. The rope tying her hands was made of plant fibers, and the Anti-Eden Compound altered organic materials. Careful not to touch any herself, Evie turned around and dipped the rope into the liquid. The chemical reaction was immediate, turning the rope into brittle strands of a tinfoil-like material. She broke free and grabbed 2-Tor, quickly undoing his restraints.

  “Let’s go, bird. Run!”

  They fled the bridge, not waiting to see what became of Vesuvia or the dripping compound. As they left, Didi waved goodbye. “Farewell, my darling Toots! Farewell! I will never forget you!”

  They went down the first staircase they found. They had to get to the docking bay and off the dreadnought before the leaking Anti-Eden Compound dripped on them.