Brass Monkeys

by Terry Caszatt

  I was actually starting to enjoy myself a little when I spotted the first of the strange hills ahead. Seconds later I realized what they were—gigantic stacks of paper. I mean, paper seemed to be flying everywhere. Big hoses snaked overhead, spitting out streams of the stuff, which was then picked up and stacked by people wearing those white tunics. The stacks had large signs in front that said things like: LATEST BORING SEVENTH GRADE TESTS; NEW, WEIRD, AND ODD-BALL ASSIGNMENTS FOR EIGHTH GRADE; MINGLEY’S TESTS ON PITTS, POTTS, AND HIGGENBOTTOM—GUARANTEED TO LEAVE EVERY KID BEHIND; and my favorite, LECTURES THAT CREATE NINTH GRADE ZOMBIES!

  Then we passed a series of bustling factories that all seemed to be turning out school supplies. Big signs blared from the rooftops advertising things like CHEAP BAND INSTRUMENTS—GUARANTEED TO DISCOURAGE BEGINNING STUDENTS, STOMACH-TURNING CAFETERIA MENUS, TEXTBOOKS COMPLETE WITH MUSTY ODOR AND GUARANTEED TO NAUSEATE, and finally, LESSON PLANS FOR THE INCOMPETENT INSTRUCTOR WHO WANDERED INTO TEACHING BY MISTAKE.

  After the factories, we began angling downhill toward some buildings that formed a huge unloading area. I could see other black and yellow roller coasters sitting on various tracks.

  But now I saw something that turned my legs to jelly. About a hundred yards down the track was a platform filled with Storm Teachers, and we were headed straight toward them. With an added zing of panic, I noticed the Stormies were heavily armed with big, alien-looking rifles and pistols. I ducked to the floor.

  “Get a grip, son,” I muttered. “Focus.”

  The coaster brakes hissed again and slowly we drifted past a large billboard. When I looked up at it, my mouth sagged open. The billboard displayed a huge “wanted” poster of McGinty. Below the picture were these ominous words: WANTED JOHN MCGINTY—DEAD OR ALIVE! I was stunned. There he was, the very guy I needed to find!

  Webster’s fierce voice came hurtling back: When you get there … find McGinty fast and give him his book. Say his name!”

  The picture of McGinty must have been taken by a hidden camera, because the face was kind of blurred and all it showed was a man in a white sport coat hurrying down a street of school-junk houses.

  The roller coaster jerked to a stop, and I heard a loud cheer from, the Storm Teachers on the platform. That brought me back with a fearful start and I knew I had to look. Trembling, I raised my head and peeked out.

  The first car had stopped by the platform and Ming, Strobe, Fundabore, and the other Stormies from the kidnapping were getting out. This was causing all the cheering. I saw Ming talking to the Storm Teachers on the platform and then gesturing back at the cars. It didn’t take a world-class thinker to know she was talking about me. But what was I going to do about it? If I jumped out now, they’d spot me for sure. And there was nowhere to hide on board the roller coaster.

  I was jarred from my thoughts by a loud jingling of bells that rose from the platform. The Stormies on the loading dock were headed for the first cars. To unload them.

  17

  a promise made

  The kids set up a great chimpy racket as they were unstrapped and herded outside. My heart pounding, I watched as Ming picked up a microphone.

  “Go car to car!” she bellowed. “I know Eugene’s in there!”

  I groaned and sank back down. I tried to think of a way to save myself, but my head felt like cement. With a loud sshhoup the doors on the car just ahead opened and I heard the Stormies yelling, “Get out! Out!”

  The kids in my car began chattering with fear. I glanced up at Harriet and found her looking down at me. There was a deep pleading look in her golden-brown eyes. She was struggling to speak.

  “Help … us” she said. Her voice seemed to come from far away.

  I rose to a crouch. All my feelings of anger, guilt, and determination surged to the surface. It was my big moment of truth, and I wanted desperately to say something heroic to Harriet. I yanked out McGinty’s book and held it up, but what came out of my mouth sounded stupid. “I will! Don’t be worry! I help!”

  Harriet’s desperate eyes burned into me and she grasped my arm. “Promise?”

  “Promise!” I said grimly. I glanced over at Alvin and Weeser. Strangely, they were watching me. I gestured wildly at them with the book. “I’ll help!” I cried. “I’ll get you out of here!” They didn’t react at all.

  But Harriet did. She nodded, then seemed to lose herself and was pulled back into the mindless hysteria. I jammed the book back under my shirt and lunged into the littered aisle. I heard the doors opening on the front of my car. I crawled blindly down the aisle and crashed through the connecting door into the next car.

  The kids in there were screeching as they watched the others being whipped out from my car. They didn’t even see me scrabbling past.

  “Watch the exits!” Ming cried out on the microphone. “He’ll be coming out! And remember, I doubt he’s transformed. He’ll be the same funny-looking boy.”

  In a burst of pure terror, I went galumphing into the next car and found myself in the middle of a bunch of Grindsville teachers—now all reddish orangutans. They were gabbling loudly and scratching themselves. They never even glanced my way as I slithered down the aisle. I lost count of the cars I went through, but I could tell the unloading was well behind me. And then I was in the last car.

  I wanted to simply yank the door open and run for my life, but I was sure Mingley would have guards near each car. Then, proving me right, I heard guttural voices just outside. Suddenly there was a loud racket down the line.

  Ming’s voice knifed above the noise. “Is it him? Is it Wise? Hold him!” A wave of frantic chittering swept through the kids and ended with the Grindsville teachers grunting wildly. I heard the Stormies just outside talking excitedly, then their shadows swept past, heading back along the cars. I grabbed the door handle and opened the door a crack. It looked clear.

  Now Ming screamed out, “No, no, that one’s transformed. It’s not Eugene!”

  My tiny opportunity was vanishing! I pushed the door open and jumped out. For a moment I stood in a daze. The heat from the desert floor was suffocating. Then I recovered myself and ran awkwardly toward a huge stack of discarded school clothes. I expected a yell of discovery, but nothing happened as I lunged behind the stack and threw myself to the ground. When I hit the sand, the book popped out of my shirt. I grabbed it and then lay cradling it under my cheek. “Hang on, son,” I whispered. “Nerve, nerve.”

  I tried to clear my head and think. Luckily, Webster’s voice came back sharply: “Go to the Avenue of Musicians and the fabulous Lulu’s place.”

  “Right,” I murmured. “Simple. Avenue of the Musicians and get help from the fabulous Lulu. Piece of cake. I can do this.” Holding the book up out of the sand, I crawled on around the stack. I paused a moment to blow the sweat off the end of my nose. That’s when I spotted the white, belted coat in the pile and the brilliant idea hit me. I grabbed the coat and put it on quickly and fastened the belt. It must have been a girl’s spring coat, but it looked an awful lot like the tunics I had seen earlier. Maybe I could mix in with those people.

  I was congratulating myself on this cunning scheme when a voice jarred me.

  “Rudy, for heaven’s sakes, now what are you doing?”

  I snapped around to find an elderly, gray-haired man in a white tunic pushing a wheelbarrow full of books. He peered at me through thick glasses.

  I stared back in confusion. “Well, I’m uh—”

  “You’re dawdling,” cried the old man. “You’ve seen searches before and Mingley always catches ‘em. So get busy. We’ve got a stack of books to move.”

  “Right,” I said. The old guy frowned suspiciously and moved closer. But even with lenses as thick as a spyglass, I could tell he didn’t see me clearly.

  “Where’s your letter?” he snapped. “Are you wearing something over it again?”

  “Ah—my letter?” I stared at him blankly and then realized he was gesturing at the large “F” that was sewn on his tuni
c front. “Oh, that,” I said. “It got torn off.”

  “Well, good heavens, go get another tunic! If any Stormies should happen to stop by, how will they know what you are? You should try to cooperate, Rudy, and quit acting so harum-scarum. Look how I display my letter. I’m proud of being a drone, and I don’t mind a bit if I’m known as a Fussbudget.”

  “Right,” I said. I stood there like a stump. I had no idea which way to move.

  “Well, get cracking! Go back to the market and buy one, right now.” He pointed off toward some stacks of clothes. “Wait a moment. What’s that in your hand? Did you pick up one of the books again?”

  “Not exactly,” I stammered. I tried to shove the book inside my coat, but the old guy moved quickly and caught my arm in an iron grip.

  He leaned in close and studied the book, then raised up and stared at me, nose to nose. “You’re not Rudy,” he hissed.

  I yanked my arm free and turned to run, stumbling awkwardly over a stack of books.

  “You come back here!” I heard him cry out. I jammed the book under my coat, then broke into a run, zigzagging around a couple of huge mounds of books. When I glanced back, there was no sign of the old guy. I slowed and tried to control my nerves.

  More yells rose from the direction of the roller coaster. Now Ming’s shrill voice floated over. “Go through the cars again! He has to be in there!”

  I hurried around a huge stack of cheap-looking lunch boxes, complete with poorly-drawn cartoon characters. Then I rushed past several stacks of boxed cookies. A big sign next to them advertised, STORM TEACHER COOKIES MADE OF CARDBOARD, PIECES OF LINT, YAK HAIRS, AND GROUND MOUSE DUNG. FOR THAT SPECIAL CLASS!

  A giant pile of the Stormies’ cheap musical instruments formed the last stack near the street. I skidded to a stop behind it and knelt down. Right away I spotted several trumpets that made me think of my own. How I wished I were back home playing “Malagueña” in my room.

  Ming’s angry voice echoed over the stacks and canceled out that good thought. “Stormies,” she bellowed, “I know he’s close! Sweep the area!”

  There was a pause, then Fundabore’s hollow voice came over the microphone. “All drones pleease mooove this way for the Gathering Ceremony. We’re running behind schedule, so let’s close shop for a moment and gathhher around.”

  The Gathering Ceremony sounded ominous and a shiver rocked me. “C’mon son, think of something,” I muttered desperately. I forced myself to look into the street. In a blur, I saw a crowded market where hundreds of drones were milling about selling school supplies out of shops and small carts.

  Fundabore’s voice boomed out over the bustling street noise. “I said nooow, people! All drooones come this waaay for the Gaathering Ceremony.”

  The drones in the street began leaving their work stations and heading for the loading platform. I watched a young drone couple with two children leave their cart, and I was so dazed it took me a couple of seconds to realize what they were selling: tunics. Almost at the same time, I saw swarms of armed Storm Teachers moving into view at the end of the street and coming my way.

  “Go son, or die,” I whispered. “Make your move!”

  I headed toward the cart, trying to act like I was on my way to the ceremony. I hoped everyone was too busy to notice my coat and missing letter. When I got to the cart, I found dozens of new tunics, each one with a different letter. But what did the letters mean? In a panic, I grabbed the nearest tunic, one with a large “J.”

  Quickly I dodged behind the cart. In a flash I discarded the spring coat, then put on the belted tunic and slipped the book inside. When I emerged, I fell in with a group of drones who were hurrying by. They didn’t even give me a glance. A few strides later I dropped back casually, then slipped quickly to the other side of the street. From there I could see the loading platform clearly. Ming, Fundabore, and Strobe were moving about on it, along with dozens of Stormies. Near the back of the platform a huge video screen sat astride a tall pole. Live shots of the kids flickered across the screen. Right away I saw a shot of Alvin and Weeser, but I forced myself to look away and keep moving.

  Ming’s voice boomed out, “All right, Stormies, let’s take the gloves off with Eugene! Seal off the entire market area! Do it now!”

  My breath came in short, harsh pants. The jaws were closing. I increased my pace, heading for a side street just ahead. As I entered it, moving against the oncoming flow of drones, several Stormies closed the route just behind me. I’d barely made it through! I walked faster, trying to blend in with the disappointed drones who had been cut off and were turning back.

  A great cheer rose from the crowd around the loading platform, and I stopped, along with several drones, to look back at the huge video screen that towered over the roofs. I let my breath out in a soft gasp. Harriet was on the screen, her frightened face framed by her curly brown hair. I stared up at those golden-brown eyes and I couldn’t have moved if I had wanted to. Now Ming appeared onscreen with Harriet and grabbed her by the hair. The crowd cheered.

  “Let us formally welcome Harriet Grove,” cried Ming, “her friends, and faculty from Grindsville Middle School to our underworld abode!” Loud applause rose from the crowd. Ming grinned down at Harriet. “I know Miss Grove is wondering, somewhere in the deep recesses of her fading mind, what lies ahead for her and her friends.” Ming raised her eyes and looked out. “But even more, I know you’re wondering, Eugene, what’s in store for you. Yes, I know you’re watching out there! You’d better listen to what I have to say! Shouldn’t he, Miss Grove?”

  I shifted uneasily. I felt the urge to turn my back and run. But everyone around me, including several drone kids, had stopped and were listening intently.

  “Up in Grindsville Middle,” Ming went on, “you learned that the ingredients of a grand education are confusion, boredom, and fear. I believe, Harriet, that your friend Walter came up with the clever word ‘conborfear’ to sum it up! Very cute and creative, not that we care about those kinds of things!” The crowd laughed heartily. “At any rate, for the ultimate in conborfear, you and your friends will be attending my special school down here—the School of the Brass Monkeys!” She made a gesture and the camera panned to pick up a dark, squatty building on the horizon.

  Just seeing it, even on the video screen, made the hair stand up on my neck.

  “After three days with my teachers,” Ming went on, “all your Amberlight will be driven to that delicious spot behind your ear, ready for extraction! Then it’s graduation time, you lose your fur and tails, and back home you go, happy as empty-headed clams! And of course Mom and Dad won’t have missed you at all, because with our little time warp, they won’t know you’ve been gone! And will you remember any of this? Not a jot! Thanks to the rapid rise back to the surface on the Big Monkey, you’ll forget every moment of your perfect little field trip!”

  I was stunned by this last bit of information. So that was how Ming could continue her operation of going from school to school, kidnapping the students and teachers, taking their Amberlight, and then bringing them back without anybody ever finding out! For Ming, it was a “perfect little field trip.”

  “But now to complete our Gathering Ceremony,” Ming continued, “let’s see what kind of an Amberlight harvest we can expect from Harriet Grove and her friends!” Ming pushed up Harriet’s hair and exposed a yellow spot about the size of a half dollar just below her right ear. Thunderous applause beat the desert air.

  Ming smiled broadly. “Oh, my,” she crowed. “It’s gathering! It’s gathering!”

  Ming raised her eyes and looked slyly out over the crowd. I knew something more was coming, and my skin prickled. “So, Eugene, here’s my message to you: turn yourself in and I’ll make sure Harriet Grove never attends one of my classes! Give yourself up and I’ll make sure she keeps every ounce of her golden spirit! Think about it, Eugene! You can save her, with a simple gesture. Give up!”

  The crowd at the unloading platform roared out with appro
val and the drones around me joined in. I cheered too, but my face furrowed with determination and inside I was still chanting to Harriet, “I promise. I promise.” But now I stopped because I saw something on the screen that froze my blood.

  It was the old guy with the thick glasses. He was wheeling across the platform on an electric cart, accompanied by several Stormies. He rolled right up to Ming and began talking animatedly to her, waving his arms and pointing off toward the stacks. I expelled my breath softly. I knew he was talking about yours truly. Now the old guy began to pantomime something with his hands. Something about this big, he seemed to be saying, his hands describing perfectly the size of McGinty’s book, Brass Monkeys.

  18

  the man in the ratty white sport coat

  I saw Ming’s body jerk as if she’d been shot. She turned and faced the camera and it moved in on her, framing her face, those pale blue eyes, the flame-red hair.

  “Let me have your attention, please,” she called out, her voice sounding too calm, too controlled. The crowd quieted immediately. “It has just been brought to my attention that our Eugene Wise may be carrying the one object I want more than anything in the world.” Her cheek twitched, and she seemed to be struggling to contain her emotions. “McGinty’s little red book.”

  A great gasp of amazement rose from the crowd. I saw that large vein in Ming’s forehead began to pulse. “I must have that book,” she began in measured tones, but then lost control. “Do you hear me, everyone? I Must! Have! It!” Her lips curled grotesquely. “I’m cutting the ceremony short because I want the word to go out over the entire city! Find Eugene Wise! Find him! Find him!”

  The drones near me turned and hurried onward, talking excitedly among themselves. I heard the words “Brass Monkeys” several times. Fear shot through me like an electric current, but I forced myself to move with the crowd.