Brass Monkeys

by Terry Caszatt

  “And you’ve got a plan, right, Tonka-buddy?” said Alvin. He scootched closer.

  “Just tell us what it is,” pleaded Weeser and his breath whistled.

  “Right,” I said. “Actually, it’s a bit complicated, but maybe I can give you a … brief outline.” The truth was, I had to figure out how to get them into the drainage pipe without being spotted and then get them safely to the Grotto to find McGinty. And do it all in time to save the other kids from Ming’s graduation.

  Before I could stammer out a word of my ridiculous “outline,” we heard a tremendous thumping racket outside the door leading to the hallway. I slipped quickly to the door and peeked out.

  I caught sight of two burly Stormies struggling with some guy in a light colored sport coat. Now they spun the man around and smushed his face into the window of our door. He had a bloody nose and a cut over his eye. I gasped, and my mouth must have hung open a foot and a half when I saw who it was.

  34

  return of the wild bunch

  “Holy crow, it’s Jack.” I said it way too loudly, and Harriet, Weeser, and Alvin looked at me in alarm.

  “Who?” whispered Weeser.

  For a moment I was so stunned I couldn’t speak. “It’s Jack,” I said, “the guy I told you about. I can’t believe it. They caught him.”

  The other three crowded around me and peered out cautiously.

  “He looks exactly like I pictured him,” said Harriet.

  “They’ve really been beating on him,” murmured Alvin. “Look at his nose.”

  We watched as Jack was dragged down the steamy hall and thrown on passenger walkway, which was now motionless. Grindsville teachers were standing around him, scratching themselves with their long orangutan arms and paying no attention to the disturbance. The two Stormies tried to force a cup of Zorca down Jack. He drank it, but when the Stormies left, I saw him spit it out.

  “Yeah,” I said, balling my fist triumphantly, “that’s Jack.”

  With a loud screech and a blast of steam, the walkway began moving slowly and Jack joggled his way toward us. I watched nervously as he drew nearer.

  “Where do you think they’re taking him?” whispered Weeser.

  I tried to steady my voice. “Ming puts everyone through three days of rotten classes before she takes their Amberlight. So I’m guessing Jack is heading for the teacher part of the classes, wherever those are.”

  “They must be terrible,” said Harriet.

  I nodded. “They have to be.” I paused and my eyes widened. “Waitaminnit,” I burst out. “Look just behind Jack. See the woman with the dark curly hair?”

  “Lilah?” said Harriet in that clear, logical way of hers.

  “Yeah, Lilah!” I said, happily. “And that guy to her right, the one with the bushy brown hair and the gappy teeth. That’s Teddy!”

  “He looks like he’s hurt bad,” said Alvin.

  “But Lilah’s still looking around,” commented Weeser. “She looks smart.”

  “Listen,” I said, “she’s like the most intelligent, fabulous, musical …”

  As we watched, a passing Stormie snapped his whip at Lilah and I heard her even-toned voice rise in pain.

  I stiffened with anger and started to grab the handle of the door.

  “Easy, Tonka-buddy,” Alvin whispered quickly. “Don’t get carried away.”

  Jack was approaching our hiding spot now and he was standing in a slumped way, as if he were about to pass out. When he went by he looked up and saw me. Right away he stopped the phony slump. He straightened and made a “What?” gesture with his hands. It was Jack, tough as ever.

  That did it. “I’ve got to help him,” I blurted out.

  The other three gaped at me fearfully.

  “Tonka-bud,” began Alvin in a nervous voice.

  “What can you do?” Harriet broke in.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know, but I’ve got to do something. Jack is the only person who can get all of us out of here in one piece. I just know it.” I started to pace in the little room, my mind racing. I crossed to the film projector and grabbed up a tin film container. I opened it and it was empty. I stuffed Brass Monkeys in and replaced the cover, then put the container on the cart.

  “What are you doing?” Weeser said. “You’re scaring us with all this.”

  I eyed them. “Listen, the book is the only thing that can save us.

  Remember where it is, but tell no one except McGinty.” I rejoined them by the door.

  “Somehow I’ll get Jack back here,” I went on in a rush.

  Alvin was already shaking his head and Weeser piped up nervously, “Don’t do it, man. Don’t go out there. I mean, that’s crazy, insane, dumb!”

  Harriet gave me a piercing look. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Absolutely. If I don’t act now, it’ll be too late. I gotta go.” I grasped the door handle, but Alvin grabbed my arm in a powerful grip.

  “Whatever you do, Eugene,” he pleaded, “don’t leave us here.”

  I eyed them. “I’d never do that. Never. I’m going to get you out of here.”

  Harriet put her arms around me in a sudden hug, and Weeser and Alvin joined in clumsily. I picked up my trumpet and saw Weeser eye it with a puzzled look.

  “Inspiration,” I whispered. I peered out the window and saw nothing. I took one last look at Harriet, at the tense but encouraging look in those golden-brown eyes. Then I opened the door and slipped out.

  For a brief moment I simply stood there, feeling lost in the steamy hall. A small voice inside said, Now what, you fool? I had no answer. I found the edge of the moving walkway, stepped aboard, and found myself nose-to-nose with Principal Plumly. He stared at me, his orangish orangutan hair sticking up in a little cowlick. His nose sniffed up and down once, but that was all I could recognize from his old “Thumper” personality. He seemed totally gone on Zorca.

  I pushed on past him, walking quickly ahead on the walkway. I went by other groups of teachers and saw several Stormies along the way, but I always managed to jam in behind somebody and stay hidden. Now there was a squeal and we ground to a halt. I heard yells and the sound of whips behind me.

  I took a deep breath and walked ahead through the steam. Where were Jack and the others? And what would I say to Jack when I found him? I felt panic creeping into my guts and I walked faster and faster. I heard the guttural voices of Stormies coming along behind me. That panicked me, and I broke into a headlong rush along the walkway.

  I didn’t even see Jack until his hand came out of the mist and grabbed me. Talk about fright. I thought my heart had stopped.

  “Bumpus, you biscuit-head,” he whispered. His eyes glinted with that wild blue light. “What are you doing here, in that shirt, and carrying that stupid trumpet?”

  “Hey, the Wild Bunch came to get you out,” I said in a cocky voice.

  “You crazy kid.” He laughed softly, but this obviously hurt and his laughter trailed off. I could see his nose was still bleeding. “In case you haven’t noticed,” he said, “you’re the only one left.” He nodded toward Lilah and Teddy who stood slumped behind him, staring at nothing.

  “Yeah,” I said, “but I’ve got a bunch of new recruits and we’re going to spring you guys out of here.” I grinned.

  He gave me a pained look. “Look kid, let’s not joke around, okay?”

  “Hey, I’m not joking,” I said. I told him quickly about Harriet and the others, making them sound dangerous and armed. “I’ve got a hot plan, Jack.”

  “Oh yeah? Is it McGinty and that dumb map thing?”

  “Of course not,” I lied quickly. I knew I didn’t dare breathe a word about that. I leaned over and tapped Lilah and Teddy on the back.

  “You’re wasting your time,” whispered Jack. “They’re both out of it.”

  Teddy didn’t move, but Lilah lifted her head and looked at me. I smiled, then raised the trumpet. She blinked and a small spark began glowing in her dark eyes.


  “Billy …” She wobbled over and gave me a hug. Tears welled up in her eyes.

  “Watch it!” hissed Jack. He spoke and signed swiftly. “Stormies!”

  Lilah and I turned just in time to see three guards coming down the hall toward us. Jack gestured at me to get deeper inside the group of teachers and I did, pushing my way behind a tall, bearded man in an overcoat. The guards went by laughing about something and didn’t even look our way.

  Lilah turned back to me, her eyes wide with fear. “Billy, what are you doing here? This is a horrible place.”

  “Listen, I came to get you guys out of here. And I’ve got a plan. Kind of.”

  Jack snorted at this, but signed it to Lilah. She trembled and her eyes glimmered with pathetic hope.

  “That’s wonderful, Billy. I want to get out of here. Please …”

  Jack grabbed my arm in a painful grip. “Look Bumpus, if you’ve got something solid, spill it. Otherwise, you’re just stirring things up.”

  I leaned in close. “Okay, listen up. There’s a drainage pipe in the gym just below the edge of the stage. If we can get inside that pipe, we can get out of here.“

  “Hold it,” snapped Jack. “I’ve never heard about any pipe. Where does it go?”

  “Jack, just trust me for once,” I said, hotly. I knew if I even hinted that the pipe went to the Blue Grotto, he would go off like an angry rocket. It turns out I didn’t have to explain anything because suddenly we started forward again.

  I looked ahead and my heart sank. The walkway was carrying us toward some ugly black doors not twenty yards ahead. Clustered around the steamy doors were several heavily armed Stormies. Lilah moaned with fear.

  Jack looked grim. “You should have stayed hidden, kid. Now you’re in the soup.”

  35

  the awful letters we wear

  With a loud sshoup the doors opened, and we rolled into a dimly lit room. The walkway stopped, and for a moment I couldn’t see anything in the gloom.

  “This looks bad,” whispered Jack.

  Now I could make out the vague shapes of several dozen reclining chairs, the kind you see in a dentist’s office, but larger and scarier looking. Complex-looking electrical equipment was suspended around the chairs, and each chair had a black metal ring just above the headrest. A group of heavily armed Stormies, who had been waiting in the shadows, stepped toward the walkway.

  Lilah cried out softly and moved in front of me.

  I heard Jack whisper something that sounded like, “Run!” But there was nowhere to go. All I could do was cower behind Lilah and the bearded guy.

  The Stormies began yanking people off the walkway. A short, sour-faced Stormie stepped to the front of the room and picked up a microphone.

  “Let’s do the renegades in the first batch, please.”

  In a panic, I scrambled backward to avoid the clutching hands.

  But Jack, Lilah, and Teddy weren’t so lucky. I watched in horror as the Stormies dragged them, along with several other teachers, to the chairs.

  Jack struggled mightily, but three or four Stormies were all over him. Lilah battled wildly for several seconds but seemed to run out of energy and finally slumped helplessly as they strapped her into the chair. Teddy, hurt and totally gone on Zorca, walked calmly to his chair, sat down, and helped strap himself in.

  The Stormies finally got Jack strapped in, and then they lowered the black ring over his head. Other Stormies were positioning rings over Lilah, Teddy and the rest of the first group.

  As the rings lowered, a video screen above each teacher’s headrest lit up and began to carry what appeared to be footage from that teacher’s classroom. I recognized some of the Grindsville rooms right away, but I couldn’t figure out what any of it meant.

  The teachers in the chairs seemed to know, however, and they began mumbling and moaning. I heard Jack give a loud cry of anger. On his video screen I saw a fuzzy picture of a school and then the identifying name over the front doors: Orion Middle School. I remembered that was the name of Jack’s old school back in Ohio, but I couldn’t understand why he was so upset at seeing it.

  Lilah’s and Teddy’s screens were evidently carrying pictures of their Iowa school, but I couldn’t see them clearly. Teddy wore a goof-ball smile, but Lilah twisted inside her metal ring and cried out in a voice filled with grief.

  I felt my stomach tighten with fear. What was going on here?

  The short, sour-faced Stormie watched the screens closely and spoke in a smirky, lisping voice.

  “Do you remember this school, teachers?” he said. His voice whistled a little on the “S” sounds. “This is the one where you had all the trouble. Remember? Let’s relive that again, shall we? Then we’ll know what letter you should really have.”

  Just as he said this, I saw one of the Stormies check the back of Lilah’s head.

  “It’s gathering,” he called out.

  At last I understood. They weren’t merely looking for the right letter; they were making Jack and the others relive something awful in order to drive their Amberlight into the pocket.

  The sour-faced Stormie walked over to Teddy’s screen. “This one’s not disorganized at all. He’s a bit odd but quite competent in the classroom. He’s really an eccentric, so put him down for an ‘E.’ After two more days of classes and the loss of his Amberlight, he’ll be happy to live down here for good!”

  Lilah had been twisting her head inside the metal ring and crying out. A burly Stormie grabbed her jaw and held her firmly. The little sour-faced Stormie left Teddy and came over to check Lilah’s screen. He watched it for several seconds, then began laughing.

  “And Miss Lilah Corbett is not a ‘T’ at all,” he lisped. “A true temperamental has trouble with all his or her relationships. They’re constantly losing their temper whenever things don’t go their way. This woman gets along fine with the students. It’s only when she’s driven to it by incompetent administrators—which we love to provide—that she finally loses it! She’s merely an ‘F’—a poor, frustrated teacher, which is what she’ll be after she loses her Amberlight!”

  The sourpuss Stormie was grinning widely at his cleverness, but he stopped when he came to Jack’s screen. Even from where I stood, I could see the screen had gone blank. There was nothing but a bunch of fuzzy lines.

  “Who is this man?” asked the sourpuss. Somebody leaned in and told him.

  “This is Jack Hastings?” The sourpuss smirked. “The renegade from … what was that sardine-box of a school called?”

  “Orion Middle,” said the burly Stormie.

  “Right. What a depressing little place that was. But how we helped them along! How are you, Mr. Hastings? Do you remember your little role in our victory at Orion? Do you remember how you gave us the one chance we needed?”

  The sourpuss nodded at the burly Stormie, who suddenly cuffed Jack hard in the face. His screen lit up immediately. Jack took one glance at it, groaned, and tried to look away, but the burly Stormie grabbed his chin and forced him to watch. I watched, too, and after it was over I wished I hadn’t.

  It must have been near the end of the year and Orion Middle was having some kind of student assembly. Ming, Strobe, and Fundabore were hovering around backstage in the gym, whispering like crazy. They looked worried about something. Then a man who must have been the principal came out on stage in front of the kids, smiled broadly, and said, “As you all know, Jack Hastings has announced that he will not be returning next year.” There was a big groan from the kids and the principal made a little face, pretending to be bothered. “Yes, yes, sad as it may be,” he said, “that’s his intention. But as a little farewell gift and surprise to the student body, Mr. Hastings has consented to demonstrate another of his many talents—his musical ability on the piano!” The kids broke out into applause and Ming, Strobe, and Fundabore looked even more tense.

  The little sourpuss Stormie laughed. “Remember this, Hastings? This was the one chance you had to stop us from taking
Orion Middle.”

  In the video Jack came out on stage and the kids applauded wildly. The camera took in some of their expressions. They looked hopeful and excited. Jack appeared pale and nervous as he sat down at the piano. He raised his hands and flexed them. I think I must have had the same kind of hopeful expression as the kids. I desperately wanted him to play something brilliant, so full of light and energy that it would blast Ming and her friends into oblivion.

  Instead, Jack turned to the assembly and said, “I wish I could leave all of you on a brighter note. But after two long years in this place, battling certain factions, it’s obvious this school has some very serious problems. In short, as I pointed out in my article for the school newspaper, the atmosphere around here stinks. Literally. And I think this music reflects the way I feel.”

  And, incredibly, Jack began playing “March of the Midnight Scholars.” The Stormies who had gathered around Jack’s black chair burst out in wild laughter and applause, but the kids in the video gasped in disbelief as the camera panned over them. I never saw such grief and incomprehension.

  I felt the same way. Why had Jack done it? But then it burst in on me, as clear as anything, and I saw the parallel with my own actions earlier in Ming’s class. We both could have saved our schools, and we both had failed miserably—I because I was a coward, and Jack because his moodiness and temper had gotten the better of him.

  “You got sooo angry and frustrated, didn’t you Hastings?” crooned the little sourpuss Stormie. “You thought you were striking back at us by playing our music. Instead you made a fatal error and crushed your students!”

  Under the black ring, Jack strained to say something, but all that came out was a strangled, horrible, “Noooo!”

  “You gave up on the kids at Orion, Hastings,” chortled the sourpuss Stormie. “And you left them right at the most critical time in their lives.”

  He leaned down close to Jack and whispered loudly, “I guess there’s nothing worse than an uncommitted teacher, is there?” He turned to the others. “Give Hastings the letter he truly deserves, and then send him down to the Amberlight Room.”