Quickly, the Stormies ripped Jack’s old tunic off and put one on him with a big “U.” He struggled desperately against them, and I think it was his terrible look of despair that finally made me snap.
“Just quit it now,” I said loudly. I cleared my throat. “Leave him alone!”
36
darkness doses in
The rest of it seemed to happen in slow motion, but it must have only taken a couple of seconds. I dropped my trumpet, then snatched out my slingshot and jumped to the floor.
There was a stunned silence as every Stormie in the room turned to stare at me. With no stone in the sling, I pulled it back and assumed a menacing stance.
“Drop your guns before I cut loose with this!” I yelled. I was totally out of control. “This is a very dangerous weapon and if you get hit with it you get … kidney stones for the rest of your life!”
At this, the Stormies burst into laughter. I saw Jack shake his head as if he couldn’t believe how dumb I was. The burly Stormie stepped toward me swiftly, and I found myself looking right into the business end of his eraser gun.
“You miserable little shadrack,” he growled, his bad breath rolling over me. The barrel of the eraser gun looked as big around as a wastebasket. I screeched in fear and accidentally let go of the rubber sling. It snapped forward viciously, hitting the guy right in the lip. He screamed and dropped the gun.
I heard Stormie voices yelling out, “Look out! Grab him!” But
Jack’s voice was loudest as he roared, “Get the gun!”
In a flash, I snatched up the eraser gun. The Stormies dove for cover and, crazy with power, I pulled the trigger and sent erasers flying.
“Yeah,” I yelled, “it’s B.B. Hulkarama. You’d better run!” But returning fire from the Stormies made me sober up fast. Jack was screaming at me to release him, and after sending out another burst, I managed to unsnap the belts around his wrists.
“Give me that,” he yelled. He snatched the gun and let go with a series of bursts that drove the Stormies back again.
I hollered at him, “Jack, cover me.” I dashed toward Lilah’s chair, undid her straps in one motion, and then unhooked Teddy’s. Lilah jumped up immediately, but Teddy sat in a daze. In a second, Jack was at my side. He had snatched a chalk pistol from a fallen Stormie and tossed it to me.
“Make yourself useful,” he yelled. He let go with another round of erasers, then he and Lilah started dragging Teddy toward the door.
I followed them, shooting madly. We were almost to the door when I remembered the trumpet. I had to have it. I turned back.
I heard Jack yelling at me. “No, Bumpus! This way!”
But somehow the silver trumpet had come to symbolize all my hopes for escape, and I couldn’t leave it. With erasers and chalk flying around me, I dodged from chair to chair, making my way back to the belt. It seemed it took a century to get there, but finally I grabbed up the horn. When I turned, Jack and the others were long gone and I was pinned down behind one of the black chairs.
Chalk and erasers pounded the chair. I yelled, “Jack!” just once, but no one was coming back. I was frozen in fear, but then I imagined how my phantom squad of men must feel. “Gotta move, guys!” I yelled. “We can’t stay here!”
Firing blindly, I rose to my feet and headed for the door. Miraculously, I made it without getting hit and came pile-driving into the hall.
There wasn’t a person in sight, and I turned and ran wildly down the hall, heading toward the storage room. Once or twice I was sure I heard gunfire coming from the direction of the gym. This sent a shot of panic through me so I ran even harder. Finally I saw the storage room ahead and I slowed. It’s a good thing I did because several
Stormies suddenly came out of it, and I barely managed to dodge, unseen, into a small alcove on my right.
I knew then I wasn’t going to catch up to Jack. I leaned against the wall and a terrible sick feeling swept over me. I had the silver trumpet all right, but I had been left behind.
The sick feeling didn’t last long. Somebody grabbed my shoulder. I yelped in fright and turned to find … Harriet.
In a flash we had our arms around each other. I could feel her trembling. She looked at me, held a finger to her lips, and drew me deeper into the alcove.
“Where’s Alvin and Weeser?” I whispered. “What happened?”
“We heard all the shooting,” she replied, “and I looked out and saw Jack and your friends. I opened the door and called to them, and they tried to get inside with us, but then the Stormies broke through the other door of the storage room, and Alvin, Weeser, and I were forced out into the hall. Jack was trying to lead us into the gym. He kept saying something about a drainage pipe, but everything got confused. I think Alvin and Weeser were captured.”
I groaned. “Are you sure?”
“Not positive.” Her voice wavered. “But it looked like they were cornered when I saw them last. Anyway, I ran down here and hid. Jack and his friends fought their way into the gym. You can hear them fighting in there.”
“What about the book?” I asked. “Did you …?”
Harriet bit her lip. “I couldn’t get to it, Eugene. I’m so sorry.”
My stomach knotted painfully. Everything was falling apart. A burst of loud gunfire jarred me out of it. Harriet held tightly to me.
“What are we going to do?” she said.
I swallowed hard. “If we don’t get to the gym and catch up with Jack, it won’t matter. We’ll never get out of here.” I took a deep breath. “I’ll have to leave the book for now. But how to get into the gym without being seen is the problem.”
“I think I know a way,” said Harriet. “There’s a door that leads to the stage just beyond here. I can show you.”
She leaned out and checked for Stormies. Then she led the way just a few yards down the hall and there was the door marked STAGE. I opened it quickly and we dodged through. Immediately the sound of the gun battle broke loudly on our ears. We were in a little entry area just beyond the stage.
We went up a short flight of steps and found ourselves in the wings of a weird, dilapidated-looking stage. I took one step ahead and froze. We were surrounded by dozens of Stormies. I heard Harriet gasp softly, then whisper “Thank goodness they’re not real.”
I realized they were props for plays the Stormies must have put on sometime in the past. In the dimness I could make out exact replicas of kids and backdrops that were painted to look like the interior of a classroom. I shook off my fear and moved quickly to the stage curtains. Someone yelled out on the gym floor and my blood froze. It sounded like Ming.
I opened the stage curtains a crack and we peered out. Ming, Strobe, and Fundabore, along with dozens of Stormies, were gathered around the door leading into the drainage pipe. The door was open and Ming was inching up to it.
“Well, well, Jack,” she called out. “Such a stubborn, difficult man. It’s taken me three years to catch up with you and look where you’ve landed. The sewer! And along with Lilah Corbett and Teddy Beeman. What a coincidence! Can you believe I just learned that Corbett and Beeman have been masquerading as drones? But why on earth would the three of you climb into the drainage pipe?”
Ming was twisting her head, trying to see more of the inside of the pipe. “I thought Eugene Wise and Harriet Grove were in there, too?. Are they in there, Hastings? Is that little red book in there, perchance?”
A loud, hollow tthwuut echoed through the gym as Jack discharged the eraser gun inside the pipe and Ming jerked back.
“Now, now, Jack,” she said, smiling at Strobe and Fundabore, “you mustn’t allow these emotional outbursts. After all, you have a nice new letter to consider. A ‘U’! Such a fine letter, too. That kind of guilt makes you nearly helpless, doesn’t it, Jack? I’ll bet you’ll never be able to help kids again. Ever!”
When she said that, I understood, with terrible clarity, why Jack had been so reluctant to help me and my friends. At that moment, Jack let loose
with a barrage of erasers. Ming drew back.
“I can’t tell if Wise and the book are in there or not,” she growled to the others. “But let’s drown them anyway. Open the floodgate!”
Fundabore, who was standing back along the pipe, reached for a large red lever. I was frozen for one horrified second, then I stepped through the curtains and yelled, “No! Don’t do it! I have the book!”
Ming and the others whipped around and saw me. I jumped down onto the wavy floor, and I heard Harriet land behind me.
“Well, there you are, Eugene,” began Ming, a smile spreading across her face. “Surprising Eugene, who finally stuns us by bringing McGinty’s book right to my doorstep. Who would have dreamed you’d do something so fantastically stupid!”
She was playing to the big gallery of Stormies and enjoying herself. “Did you come here because of the charming Miss Grove?” she went on. “I think that’s it! The wandering scholar journeys to a far and dangerous land and learns a sad and fatal truth about life. Never try to save your friends!”
“Okay, you win,” I said bitterly to Ming. “Just let Jack and the rest out of the pipe and I’ll hand over the book.”
Ming nodded. “Of course, Eugene. Such a cunning, smart bargainer you are.” She turned to Fundabore. “Drown them!”
With a smile, he slammed the red lever down. I heard a tremendous surge of water rushing through the pipe. Ming and the others must have enjoyed my horrified expression because they burst into loud laughter.
I glanced at Harriet. We were standing just yards away from the bleachers and the exit door I had come through earlier. I knew it was our last chance.
“The exit door,” I whispered to Harriet. “Run!”
We turned and bolted for the door. For a moment I thought we might make it, but the wavy floor totally threw us off. We’d only staggered a few feet when a barrage of shots broke out. Harriet cried out in pain and grabbed her elbow. I turned to help her and an eraser caromed off the bell of the trumpet and struck me on my left ear. For a split second I thought I was okay. It wasn’t the kind of head-on shot Jack had warned me about.
Suddenly, like a small explosion, everything was bathed in a fierce light, and then there was darkness.
37
all our monkey days lead here
Darkness was all I knew for what seemed like a very long time. When I did come to, it was only in the dimmest way. I realized at one point that I was on the moving sidewalk, heading down a hallway accompanied by the dark ominous beat of the “March.” I was aware that Harriet was standing next to me, and I know I tried to speak to her, but no sound came out.
I recall going by strange classrooms where Stormies seemed to be instructing teachers from Grindsville. Placards hung over each classroom, and they had titles like “HOW TO USE RIDICULE AND SARCASM ON STUDENTS” and “TECHNIQUES TO DEPRESS YOUR BRIGHTEST STUDENTS” and “A DOZEN WAYS TO KILL THE IMAGINATION.” At one point I let out a barking laugh that echoed grotesquely because I saw a sign that read “HOW TO MAKE SURE BOYS NEVER READ A BOOK!“
Then there was a stretch where I couldn’t focus on anything. There was a high-pitched ringing in my ears, and then the belt picked up speed, and a kaleidoscope of bizarre scenes flashed by me. They appeared to be from Ming’s three classrooms of confusion, boredom, and fear, but I was too far gone to understand any of it.
I heard the sshhoup of automatic doors and dimly I saw a rectangular room, ugly and bare except for a long row of awful black chairs, complete with headrings. A single overhead light threw a narrow beam on the first two chairs.
Some Stormies appeared out of the shadows, lifted us off the belt and strapped us into the first two chairs. The leather pinched my wrists, but I didn’t cry out. I knew they were taking off my shoes and socks, and I felt the leather biting my ankles as they were strapped to the chair.
The Stormies lowered the ring around my head and began fussing with the equipment. Vaguely, I noticed a small glass jug that hung suspended from the ring. Stuck in a slot on the side of the jug was a long-needled syringe. I glanced over at Harriet to see if she saw it, but she was dazed and lost.
Out of nowhere, Ming’s pale blue eyes loomed in at me. She was smiling. She jerked my head back and looked behind my right ear. “Not much Amberlight yet, Eugene. But it’s only the first day. Fear will help it gather. And we know just how to provide that … don’t we?”
She leaned closer and patted my cheek. “Are you awake? Come, Eugene, look at me! My little wandering scholar. What did you think you would accomplish by causing me so much trouble? Mmm? And where’s the little red book?”
“I don’t know,” I said. I was fascinated by what appeared to be red rings deep in her eyes. The rings seemed to get smaller as they receded into the depths.
“You don’t know? But you must know where it is. Don’t be so difficult.” She studied me a moment. “What makes a boy like you tick? And what on earth possessed you to try to outwit me?”
For a long moment I said nothing. I had never seen Ming this closely before. It was fascinating, almost like seeing her for the first time. The large mole on her chin actually had hairs sprouting from it.
“What are you staring at, you funny thing?” said Ming.
“I was chosen,” I said. The words popped out of my mouth.
“Chosen?”
“For this mission,” I said. “Out of all the kids in the country, I’m the one they chose to find McGinty.” A bold, reckless feeling flooded over me. It didn’t matter what I did now. Jack and the others were dead, drowned. I could say anything.
“Bosh! Chosen, my foot,” said Ming. “You weren’t chosen for anything, you little turtle-brain. Look at you, you miserable failure. You’re hardly unique!”
“Well, looks can be deceiving,” I said. “Can’t they? And of course, that was one reason they chose me. Pretty cunning if you think about it.”
I saw a tiny glimmer of doubt in her eyes.
“But not cunning enough,” she snapped. “Why would Webster refer to B.B. in his pathetic note to Grove—which I now have, incidentally.” She grinned. “Your initials are certainly not B.B., Eugene Ithaca Wise!”
“But they are,” I replied. “Billy Bumpus happens to be my true name, and it’s the one my entire family knows me by. My grandmother who was a full-blooded Cheyenne gave me that name because of the bumpy way I rode my horse.”
“Stop it!” cried Ming. “Oh, you’re a practiced liar—that’s something I missed in your character.” She frowned, then burst out with, “Where’s McGinty? If you’re really who you say you are, you should know!”
Deep inside I felt triumphant. She had no idea McGinty was in the Grotto.
“I do know,” I replied. “He’s very close by—”
With a violent move, Ming’s hand shot out and grasped my chin. “And that wretched book with the red cover? Where is that?”
“Closer,” I managed to gurgle out. I think if I had shown fear at this moment, my charade would have collapsed. Miraculously, I didn’t. I’m sure it was due to the blow from the eraser gun. I simply didn’t feel the same old cowardice.
Ming released her hold. She was blinking rapidly. “You realize I can get this information from you with a little help?” She gestured at the ring around my head.
“Of course I know that,” I said carelessly. “That’s pretty obvious.”
Ming stared at me. I could see doubt clouding her eyes again. She wasn’t sure about me. I almost laughed aloud.
“Tell me the truth,” said Ming. “It wasn’t McGinty’s idea to send you, was it? It was somebody else’s … wasn’t it?” Her voice sounded almost pleading.
“That’s right,” I said. I had no idea what she was talking about. I just knew what I was saying was giving her fits.
“Her?” whispered Ming.
“You got it,” I said. Like a stroke of lightning, I did get it. “Adjana sent for me,” I went on. “I’m the one she chose.”
For a second
I wasn’t sure what Ming was going to do. Then her face crumpled and she actually sobbed aloud. “Damn you!” she whispered fiercely. She began to cry now in a muffled, heart-wrenching way. She turned away, and I noticed the label on her blouse was sticking up in back, and the sad sight of that actually made me feel sorry for her.
I almost said, “Hey, hey, c’mon, don’t cry.” I twisted around uncomfortably and saw Harriet staring at me. She still looked sleepy and dazed, and I wondered how much she understood.
Ming turned back, her eyes tearful. “You hate me so much, don’t you?”
“Not really.” I didn’t sound very convincing.
“Why?” said Ming, as if she hadn’t heard me. “Why do you hate me so much? We came to your small town, my mother and I, and we tried so hard to become one of you. We worked at it day and night. And what did we get?”
I shook my head in confusion. She’d lost me with this bit about her mother.
“Do you remember the day you drove us out of your school?” Ming’s voice had taken on a strange sing-song tone, as if this were an old story she had repeated many times. “It was in the winter—February to be exact. I still see your ugly, stupid faces as you pursued our car and threw snowballs at us. Do you remember what you screamed out at us? You called my mother—and remember she was ill and feverish—Ape Mother! And you called me Little Monkey!” She paused and opened her eyes wide, as if appealing to my better judgment. “Did you really think I looked like a monkey?” Tears coursed down her cheeks.
I snuffed nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never called—”
“Oh, please, don’t lie,” she said in a soft, pleading voice. “Really, I detest that. Let’s be honest. You called me Little Monkey. That’s a horrible thing to say to a child. But you said it. You did. All of you.”
I sat there, staring at her. My former boldness was slipping away.
“Endless hatred, that’s all you’ve ever shown me. Relentless spite. And what did I ever do to merit that? What? Oh, your hate, your never-ending hate.”
Brass Monkeys Page 19
