Brass Monkeys

by Terry Caszatt

  I hesitated.

  “Hey, it’s all right,” he said, quickly. “You don’t need to tell me. I was just curious. Later on, if you feel you can trust me, well, you can go into it then.”

  I shook my head. “No, I trust you right now. You risked your life for me, Ray, and you need to know exactly what’s going on. I’m looking for McGinty because I need help getting my friends out of Ming’s school. And also I’ve got something that belongs to him—something really important that he wants.” I pulled out the book with the red cover and held it up.

  Ray’s eyes got big. His mouth formed several words, but he couldn’t seem to get one of them out. He took a few steps off, then turned quickly. “Holy Crow,” he burst out. “That’s McGinty’s old Brass Monkeys deal, ain’t it?”

  I stared at him in astonishment. “How did you know that?”

  “How’d I know? Listen, about two weeks back I happened to meet McGinty himself, along with this raggedy old geography teacher named Webster.”

  Now my eyes got big. “You saw them? They were here?”

  “Absoltootly they were here. And that book was all they talked about.”

  I tried to control my excitement. “So you know where McGinty is, right? Ray, you gotta tell me!”

  But Ray frowned and looked off. “Sshhh!” he said. He held up a warning hand. At first I heard nothing, then the faint sound of bells drifted in over the sand hills.

  “They’re circling back,” whispered Ray grimly. “Now I understand why so many of the Stormies are after you. Man, we gotta rock out of here and I mean now.”

  26

  playing a tune at the cat’s pajamas

  Ray led the way in a flat-out run through the hills while I desperately tried to stay up with him. I kept my arm tight against my side, trying hard to keep the book from popping out of my tunic.

  “Where are we going?” I gasped.

  “My hideout, man. Where else?”

  Finally, after climbing a steep hill, Ray darted in among a clump of the cactus-like plants and motioned for me to hit the ground. I flopped down and rolled onto my back, barely managing to keep the trumpet out of the sand. I could feel my heart beating right down to my toes.

  “We’ll hole up here a second,” whispered Ray, “and get our breath. Gotta keep an eye out for old wacky Devos while we’re moving around like this.”

  He peered around and I tried to look too, but sweat was in my eyes.

  “Have you seen Devos before?” I gasped out.

  He shot me a grim look. “Better believe it. That scary little dude flies over here all the time. They say he’s got eyes in the back of his head, and I believe it!”

  I stared at him nervously. “So, you think we’re safe here?”

  “Probably not. But ain’t we having fun?” Ray grinned at me.

  I tried to grin back, but I was too tired and depressed.

  Ray eyed my trumpet. “I never met a renegade carrying a trumpet before. I heard you playing at the shell, and you ain’t bad. I play the sax myself.”

  “You do? That’s great.” I tried to say it with some enthusiasm, but I noticed my voice was flat. I turned over on my stomach and looked off over the sand hills. From this high point I could see all the way back to the ruins and the band shell. Stormie trucks were swarming around it.

  Ray inched up beside me, holding a pair of worn-looking binoculars. “You’re worrying about your buddies, right?”

  I nodded bleakly. Just hearing the word “buddies” made me feel sad and empty. I could still see Lilah’s last look in my direction and her signed message to me. But what had she said?

  Ray offered the glasses to me, but I shook my head. I didn’t want to see anything more. He nodded in understanding and took a look himself. “No sign of your friends,” he murmured. “Probably already on their way to Ming-daddy’s school. If they’re renegades, she’ll put ‘em through her three-day deal and then take their Amberlight, right along with your school buddies.”

  I turned to stare at him. “Their Amberlight? I thought it was just the kids’ Amberlight she was after?”

  He kept on looking through the glasses. “Naw. She takes it from adults, too. I guess they still have a little fire in the stove, even though they’re older. Anyway, the Storm boys drink it down and it makes them young and happy again. Or at least that’s what they say. Never seen a happy Stormie, though.”

  Ray put the glasses down and eyed me. “We’re going to have to move fast Bumpus-man, and the first thing you should do is ditch that hot old tunic.”

  “That makes sense,” I said. “I can hardly breathe.” I struggled out of the tunic.

  Ray wrinkled his nose when he saw the Meat Loaf Special. “Whoee, that’s ugly. Look, ditch them orange cowboys and let me find you something better.”

  He opened his big knapsack and began rustling around in it. He took out a wild-looking black and orange shirt that had a brightly-colored bird rising out of purple and reddish flames. “Put this on and you’ll be bad, old Bumpus-man!”

  I grinned weakly, but I kind of liked the idea of being “bad.” The shirt was way too big for me, but it was lightweight and it felt good. Ray watched with approval as I buttoned it up and then slipped the book inside.

  “Man, you’re the one,” he said. “I heard McGinty talkin’ to Webster about sending back this tough, slam-down kid. I guess I never thought Webby would be able to find one of the old tunnels and get out of here. No one else has.”

  “You mean there’s more than one tunnel back to the surface?”

  “Oh man, there’s tons of them. Stormies been digging them for years—you know, going up to hundreds of schools. But most of the tunnels are filled in, or too steep and dangerous to climb. Webby obviously found one he could climb and back he went. Then bingety bim, here you are!”

  “Oh, yeah, bingety bim,” I said. “But I wonder how Webster was able to keep his memory after he got to the surface? Do you think he knew the memory trick?”

  “Yeah,” said Ray, “I’m sure he knew it. Him and McGinty had all kinds of secrety talks about stuff like that. Wouldn’t let me in on it, though. All righty, better get a move on.”

  He scrambled to his feet and away we went again. Going down the other side of the hill I was so off balance I fell face forward, plowing a neat little furrow with my chin. Somehow I kept the trumpet out of the sand and the book didn’t pop out. Ray came back and helped me up and we ran on, dodging the cactus-like plants. Ray finally signaled a halt at the base of a huge hill.

  “Just about there,” he said excitedly. “Best little hideout in the world.”

  “Where is it?” I croaked.

  Ray motioned for me to follow and we went bounding up the side of the hill. Actually he bounded, and I sort of staggered along behind. As we went up, I started to see more and more of the surrounding desert. I stopped once to get my breath, and I could see the band shell and Adjana’s ruins off in the distance. There didn’t seem to be anything moving around them now. Way off on the horizon, I spotted Ming’s dark school. Finally I caught up with Ray near a clump of rocks.

  “Here she is,” he said. He smiled broadly.

  I stared at him, totally puzzled. I couldn’t see anything but the stones and the sandy side of the hill. Ray bent down and lifted some camouflage netting out of the sand, revealing the burned-out remains of a big Stormie truck. All that stuck out was the front end, because sand had shifted and settled over the rest.

  Ray pulled the netting completely back to reveal some kind of homemade go-cart parked next to the front bumper of the truck. The cart body was a mix of jungle-gym parts, while the tires and pedals had obviously come from bicycles. Topping it off was a yardstick aerial and a “flag” made out of somebody’s basketball shorts.

  “This little baby is my ‘Hru-tu-du.’ Know where I got that name?”

  “I sure do,” I said. “You got it out of the book Watership Down. The rabbits thought cars made that kind of sound.”


  “Very cool, Bumpus-man. I figured you were a big reader. I only take the old Hru-tu-du out at night when it’s safe, but I love her.” He pulled the net back over the cart, then opened the truck door.

  “Okey-dokey, Bumpus-man,” he said grandly. “Come on in to the most secret, magical, mysterious hideout in the entire world! The Cat’s Pajamas!”

  I followed him inside and right away I had to agree. The place was a knockout.

  The cab led into the big cargo box at the rear, and that was the living quarters. Somehow Ray had removed some of the sand overhead and then put in a piece of Plexiglas, which gave him tons of light. The walls were decorated with comic books, and it was obvious who his heroes were. The Hulk was everywhere, along with Spider Man and the Fantastic Four.

  “I’ll give you a quick tour,” said Ray. “First, here’s my electric keyboard. I took it off an old piano and rigged it up with batteries. Works real good!” He tinkled out a few notes. “This is my sax. I borrowed that from the piles around the marketplace.” He honked out some notes and then began playing a song I vaguely recognized.

  He stopped and grinned at me. “Know what that tune is?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure. Sounds familiar.”

  “That’s my favorite song. It’s called ‘These Boots Are Made for Walking.’“

  I let out a little laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

  Ray’s eyes narrowed. “Ain’t joking, man. That’s my tune.”

  “Don’t you like rap or hip-hop?” I said. “I mean, most guys—”

  Ray held up a hand and stopped me. “Whoa, you mean, because I’m a black kid, I’m supposed to like that kind of stuff?”

  “No,” I said, lamely, “I hope I didn’t mean that.”

  “Listen, Bumpus-man,” said Ray, “don’t put me in some kind of little box. I ain’t like other kids—any other kids! So, don’t do that kind of thing.”

  I bit my lip. “You’re right, Ray. I shouldn’t have said that. ‘Cause I got this Spanish tune called ‘Malagueña’ that I like and everyone else thinks is stupid.”

  “See, it ain’t stupid! That’s your song! That’s all that’s important. I heard ‘Boots’ when I was little, and me and my Ma used to march around the kitchen table and sing it.” Ray’s voice got thick. “That’s my tune and I don’t care what anyone thinks. Heck, I play it once every day. And man, I’ve had lots of days.”

  “How long have you been down here, Ray? I mean, hiding out like this?”

  He squinted his eyes in thought. “Hard to say. Maybe a couple of years.”

  “Two years!” I whistled in amazement. “That’s like forever.”

  “Don’t remind me,” said Ray. “It seems like yesterday I was sitting in my seventh grade class in Shabbona, Illinois, just doing my tats—”

  “Tats?” I said.

  “Tattoos, man. You know, drawing cool stuff on my hands and wrists. I wasn’t even listening to old Ming-daddy doing her dark and bleak yabba-ding-dong poetry. Man, I was just trying to relax in back, and the next thing I know I’m on the Big Monkey going straight down. And it ain’t to the mall either!”

  I grinned at him. “So you never transformed, right?”

  “You kiddin’? I never even developed a stubby tail. Man, I was out of that roller coaster like my pants was on fire and the Stormies never got close to me since. I’ve been living out here free as the breeze and getting what I need off the discard piles. My only problem is, sometimes I get a little lonesome.”

  “I’ll bet your folks miss you,” I said.

  “I doubt it,” replied Ray. “My old man ran off and my ma’s dead.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  Ray wrinkled his nose and laughed. “Hey, we’re getting way too serious, Bumpus-man. Let me finish up my tour.” He moved on to a piece of trampoline stretched between two student lockers. “This here is my couch.” Then he showed me his “bathtub,” which was really a big plastic wastebasket. Finally he pointed out his “kitchen,” which was jammed with dozens of cafeteria-sized tins of food and a metal library cart that had been hammered into a sink. “I got enough peanut butter and jelly to last me a hundred years,” said Ray, happily. “In fact, I got some sandwiches already made up here, if you’d like one?”

  I shook my head. “No thanks, not now anyway.”

  “Okay, let’s play some tunes then. C’mon, I want to hear you play that stuff I heard you do out at the band shell.”

  “I don’t think so, Ray. I just don’t feel like it.”

  He blew a few jazzy riffs on “These Boots” that made me laugh.

  “C’mon man, join in.” Ray’s eyes sparkled. “Make you feel a lot better.”

  I joined in half-heartedly and pretty soon we sounded just like a little New Orleans’ jazz band. We must have played for maybe five or ten minutes, going back and forth between “Malagueña” and “These Boots.”

  Then, without warning, it all swept over me. I felt tears coming to my eyes. I saw Harriet, Weeser, and Alvin marching toward Ming’s horrible school. Then the awful scene at the band shell replayed itself. I saw Teddy as he was hit, then Lilah being struck down and making those last pathetic signs to me. What was she trying to tell me?

  I guess Ray knew I was stressed out. He patted me on the shoulder.

  “You’ll be okay, Bumpus-man. Just take it easy.”

  I turned to nod at him, but he had frozen and was looking off in alarm.

  “Did you hear anything?” he whispered.

  “Like what?”

  He stared at me. “Like bells.”

  27

  ray’s version of the impossible

  Ray moved quickly to the cab of the truck and peered out. I followed him wordlessly. I was so tense I could barely breathe.

  “See anything?” I whispered.

  He shook his head. “Nothing. I think I’m just a little jumpy with all the excitement.” He glanced at me. “And man, I know you’re feelin’ it. So why don’t we just relax? Maybe you’d like to do some reading or sleeping.” He picked up a dog-eared copy of Watership Down. “This is my only real book, but you’re welcome to it.”

  “Thanks Ray,” I said. “I know you’re trying to be nice and all, but the truth is, I can’t take time to relax. I’ve got to find McGinty, and if you know where he is, you’ve gotta tell me and fast. I’ve only got three days to save my friends—”

  “Save your friends?” Ray stared at me. “Whooee man! No way can you do that. They’re done for.”

  I held up my hand real fast and I know I looked irritated. “Ray, don’t do this to me, okay? I’ve already heard all that baloney and I can’t take it.” I took a deep breath and tried to control myself. “Look, I’ve got to find McGinty and give him his book and then get him to help me—”

  Ray shook his head sadly. “You don’t get it, Bumpus-man.”

  “What don’t I get? You know where McGinty is, right?”

  Ray nodded and sighed. “I know exactly where he is, and that’s the problem.”

  “So, just tell me,” I begged. “Don’t stonewall me.”

  “Okay,” said Ray. “Take it easy, I’ll tell you everything.”

  “And fast, right?”

  “Fast as I can. But you gotta sit still for the background. Otherwise it won’t make sense. First off, McGinty and Webster came through here about two weeks ago, like I said. They’d been hiding in Adjana’s old ruined school, and now the Storm boys were hot on their trail. So I go out and save their butts, then bring ‘em back here to rest up. That’s when they started arguing. It was all about how they were going to defeat Ming-daddy and save every school kid in the country. Webster, that crazy old dude, wanted to find a tunnel to the surface and try to get McGinty’s book back down here. He thought that was the way to expose Ming-daddy. But even though McGinty wanted the book bad, he thought he had a better idea. And that was to develop a weapon to use against Ming-daddy.”

  “Weapon?” I said eagerly. “Wh
at kind of weapon?”

  “Beats me. I think it might be a bomb or some kind of big gun. Anyway, McGinty said he had to go down to this place called the Blue Grotto to work on the weapon. He said he needed help from some fantastic teacher named—”

  “Adjana,” I burst out. “Has to be.”

  Ray grinned. “Right on the nail, Bumpus-man. And this is where they got real hot in their argument, and it’s the real kicker as far as you’re concerned. Old Webby says there’s only three ways to get to the Grotto and all three are stupid and impossible. One was trying to go down the original tunnel, which is totally blocked with boulders. Two was going down the Cliffs of Notes, which he said was too dangerous—and I have to agree ‘cause I’ve seen ‘em myself—and the third was going down a drainage pipe inside Ming-daddy’s school.”

  “A drainage pipe in her school?” I said. “That sounds really dangerous.”

  “Of course it does! Webster kept saying no one in their right mind would go into that old dingbat’s school just to crawl into a stinky drain pipe and then slip and slide down to this Grotto place. Especially if there’s no way out!”

  I nodded. “Right, you’d be stuck down there for good.”

  “Absoltootly,” said Ray. “But then McGinty ups and says he ain’t worried about that because he thinks he knows a secret way of sneaking back out.”

  “So what did they decide, Ray? C’mon, I’m going nuts here.”

  “All right, easy. I’m coming to the end. What happened is this. McGinty was feeling kind of sick after all the running around, so Webster tells him to rest up with me for a few days. Meanwhile, Webster says he’ll go and look around for a tunnel to the surface. He says he’s got some buddies in Monkeyopolis who he thinks he can trust to help him.”

  “That’s got to be Teddy and Lilah, my friends,” I said eagerly.

  “Maybe. Anyway, Webster tells McGinty to rest up and then meet him back in the ruins of Adjana’s old school. Then they’ll decide which plan to follow.”

  “But Webster didn’t come back, did he?” I burst out. “He found a tunnel and went for it.”