The Case of the Wilted Broccoli

by William Hertling

  The copter's rotors spun, blades slicing the air with a startling loud whine in the night. Resisting the urge to watch the drone itself, he kept his eyes focused on the screen to watch the video feed from the camera. The drone flew itself toward the warehouse, but Elon kept his hands on the controls, ready to override the autopilot if necessary.

  The lights off the Bannon warehouse silhouetted the dark trucks parked in front. The copter flew past a truck, then rose up over the lip of the building roof, and settled down. As soon as the drone landed, Elon cut the throttle to save batteries and avoid noise. From the rooftop, it would be a short, quick flight into the building.

  Elon programmed the next set of waypoints, his fingers flying over the keyboard in the darkness. He knew roughly where the pallet racks were inside the warehouse, and he'd only need to take control at the last moment to land.

  They didn't have long to wait. Suddenly the far left loading-dock door began to open, a dull roar even at this distance.

  "Wait," Willow said. "They'll be looking at that door. Go when the next door starts to open."

  Elon nodded.

  When the door was halfway up, the next one started to open, and when that was halfway up, the third one opened.

  "Perfect," Linden said. "They've got twelve doors to open, so you'll have at least five minutes of noise cover to get into position."

  Elon engaged the autopilot, and it followed the waypoints he set. The drone rose up off the roof, dipped down as soon as it passed the ledge, and flew through the doorway. With no GPS inside the building, the drone would have to fly the last little bit using motion sensors.

  They followed its progress on the laptop screen, watching from its point of view, as it swooped through the top of the doorway, then turned abruptly left, and rose up to within a few feet of the ceiling and flew forward thirty feet. Then it stopped, hovering in midair.

  "This is where I have to fly it," Elon said. He spotted a tall pallet rack a few feet away, flew up and over. He checked the telemetry window to make sure he was centered over a pallet, and set the throttle to zero. The copter settled down with a thump.

  The big garage doors continued their rolling thunder as the video screen showed nothing but a blank wall.

  "It's facing the wrong way!" Willow practically jumped up.

  "Relax," Elon said. He set the altitude for three inches, then gave the rudder control short taps until the drone turned and faced toward the doors.

  Now they saw the long line of open doorways on the right side of the screen. In the middle of the dozen doors stood a man flipping switches one by one and watching the doors open. He gave no sign of having seen the Silver Dragon enter. In the middle of the screen, a long row of forklifts sat parked. Toward the left side of the screen they saw the massive refrigerator.

  "Perfect," Willow said in a hushed whisper. She started recording the video and turned up the laptop sound, so they could hear what was happening in the warehouse. For a few minutes more, they heard only the rumbling of doors.

  When the last door opened, the figure walked away from the switches.

  "Is that Mr. Hutchins, the foreman?" Linden asked.

  "I can't tell," Willow said. "He's just a little bit too far away to make out the details. Maybe he'll come closer."

  But he didn't come closer. In fact, he went farther away, towards the far end of the long row of doors. He got really small on the screen.

  "Maybe I should move the drone closer," Elon said.

  "No, we don't want to risk the noise now."

  The man - at least they thought he was from his short hair, clothes, and the way he walked - stopped at the last door. His arms waved back and forth, and he turned and pointed toward the refrigerator.

  "That does look like Mr. Hutchins," Linden said. "Look at the way his arms are waving around."

  "He talks with his hands, Mom would say," Willow remembered, from the last time they met him.

  Mr. Hutchins then walked toward the left side of the screen where the offices were and disappeared off-camera. Soon after, two figures with handtrucks unloaded boxes from the far truck and brought them closer to the camera, toward the middle of the screen.

  Suddenly the first man reappeared and opened the big refrigerator door. The two workers brought the boxes into the refrigerator, stacking them in a pile right next to the door, and then went back toward their truck.

  "OMG," Elon said. "This is boring. Are we really going to watch people move stuff all morning?"

  "We have no choice," Willow said.

  For fifteen more minutes, they watched workers move food. Some boxes went into the refrigerator, adding to the pile next to the door. Others got stacked in various places around the warehouse. Mr. Hutchins came out a last time to talk to the workers, handing them something, and they gave him a tan folder and went back to their truck.

  Willow heard the engine start. "See if you can get their license plate, and if it says anything on their door, like the name of the company."

  Linden nodded, then ran towards the driveway, keeping low. He noticed a few cars pulling into the Bannon Foods lot, then he heard the rumble of the truck leaving. The old blue truck came slowly up the driveway, its engine laboring as it climbed the incline to street level. It was impossible to read the faded letters on the side of the truck in the light coming off the street lamp. But he risked using the flashlight again for a brief moment to get the license plate, then scurried back to the others.

  "Got the license plate, but I couldn't make out the company name. It was from California. The truck was blue. And now some other employees are showing up to work. What's happening inside?"

  "Nothing," Willow said. "Mr. Hutchins went into the back."

  A few minutes later, the new employees entered the picture. They spoke with Mr. Hutchins, closer to the camera on the drone, and this time they could make out for sure that it was him.

  "Does this mean Mr. Hutchins is the one who is responsible?" Elon asked.

  "We didn't see him do anything wrong," Linden said. "He was just here at work, early, receiving a delivery."

  "Yes, but look at that!" Willow said. She pointed to a pile of black plastic crates on-screen. "I've been watching, and that's one of the things unloaded from the blue truck. If it gets loaded onto the truck for our school, we'll know exactly where it came from."

  Another fifteen minutes passed, and finally they saw a worker load the boxes into the Mt. Hood Elementary truck. By this time, some of the other yellow Bannon Foods trucks had already departed. From where they sat, they could see new trucks in a variety of colors arriving and then idling in the long driveway, waiting to unload new deliveries, the big refrigeration units above their cabs rumbling to keep the contents cold.

  "The blue truck wasn't a Bannon Foods truck," Linden mused.

  "Right. We know that. It was delivering food," Willow said.

  "It also didn't have one of those things above the cab."

  "They call it a reefer, short for refrigerator," Willow said. "Mrs. Dozen talked about them in class."

  "But we saw them put the food from the blue truck into the refrigerator in the warehouse. So it was food that was supposed to be refrigerated!" Linden said.

  "Oh!" Willow rubbed her eyes. "That is suspicious."

  "So we have an early-morning delivery before any of the regular workers arrived," Elon said, taking his eyes off the screen. "That Mr. Hutchins personally supervised. It came on an unrefrigerated truck, when we know it should be refrigerated. We know that food went to Mt. Hood Elementary."

  "I wish we could see what was in the crate," Willow said. "We don't have a zoom on this camera?"

  Elon and Linden shook their heads.

  "I have to fly it out at some point," Elon said. "So I could do it now and fly past the back of the truck to get a close up view."

  "Okay, program the waypoints."

  "I can't," Elon said. "No GPS in there and the motion sensors aren't accurate enough to find the doorway. I'll ha
ve to fly it by hand. Here goes." Elon started the rotors, and slid the drone forward, then down. He flew toward the truck, then stopped and hovered for just a moment in front of it. They got a clear view of the black plastic crates.

  "Wilted broccoli!" Willow cried, pointing at the screen. "I knew it. That's it!"

  Elon pressed forward to fly the copter out into the parking lot.

  "Wait!" Willow put one hand on his arm. "I want to know what those workers put into the refrigerator. Fly toward the refrigerator."

  "There's workers all over. They'll see us, if they haven't already."

  "We need to know."

  "Fine!" Elon yelled, though his tone made it clear that it wasn't fine with him at all. "We're risking the Silver Dragon by doing this."

  He did a quick one-eighty, then flew at top speed toward the refrigerator door, which was open. Workers everywhere stopped what they were doing and looked up toward the silver and black copter now roaring through the warehouse. As it got to the doorway, Elon centered the control stick, and the Silver Dragon stopped dead in its tracks, hovering. The camera centered on the pile of boxes next to the door, the boxes they'd seen unloaded from the unrefrigerated truck that morning.

  "Sliced beef!?" Willow screamed. "You have to refrigerate meat!"

  "Get out," Linden said. "Get out!" He pointed at the screen, where someone was rushing toward the copter waving a broomstick in the air.

  Elon reversed the copter, flying backwards, away from the approaching figure. He did another one-eighty turn to fly toward the doors, but as the camera panned around, they saw another figure approaching with a fire extinguisher.

  He banked left and almost ran into a pole, then veered around it. A man threw handfuls of carrots at the drone. The drone dove forward at maximum speed, its rotors sending up a cloud of white dust as it passed over the flour repacking station.

  Mr. Hutchins was visibly waving his arms and yelling, even though he was inaudible under the scream of the four rotors at top power. He picked up a plastic crate and threw it toward the drone.

  "The folder!" Willow yelled. "Next to Mr. Hutchins is the tan folder he got from the people on the blue truck. It's open. We need to see what it says."

  Elon continued to fly maneuvers, dodging obstacles, thrown objects, and people.

  "Uh," Linden said. "Too much. Just get out."

  "It's evidence," Willow said.

  "Fine," Elon grunted. He did another about-face, and flew straight at Mr. Hutchins.

  Mr. Hutchkin's eyes went big and he dove for the floor.

  Elon flipped a switch, tilting the drone forward and hitting negative throttle, spinning the rotors backwards. For a brief second, the Silver Dragon hung motionless in the air, sideways to the ground, so that the forward-facing camera faced straight down to the sheets of paper below. In a fraction of a second, the drone fell toward the ground, then Elon hit regular throttle again and took off toward the flour station.

  Workers from everywhere ran toward the drone, carrying brooms, boxes, potatoes, and fire extinguishers. The drone hovered above a giant open bag of flour, its powerful fan blades sending up billowing clouds of white dust so thick no one could see in. Elon waited for several seconds, then dove forward again, flying out of the cloud.

  None of the workers were ready, and he flew right past them, before they could react. None except for Mr. Hutchins, who suddenly rose up from the ground and threw a broom like a spear toward the copter.

  The boom handle passed right into the blade guard for the right front rotor. The rotor, spinning hundreds of times per second, hit the broomstick and snapped clean off as the weight of the heavy boom brought the Silver Dragon crashing to the ground.

  "NOOO!" Elon yelled as Linden and Willow stared in shock.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ELON STOOD UP, like he was going to run into Bannon Foods but Willow and Linden grabbed him at the same time to hold him back.

  "We can't go in there," Linden yelled.

  "But the drone!" Elon's eyes turned red.

  "I know," Willow said. "We just have to --"

  Whatever she was going to say never got said because Mr. Hutchins came to the loading bay and looked out. The day had brightened after sunrise, and though they were several hundred feet away, Mr. Hutchins saw them clearly.

  "Hey, kids -- what the heck are you doing?" he bellowed. He turned and yelled something into the warehouse, and suddenly he and several workers starting running toward them, yelling for the kids to stay where they were.

  Mr. Hutchins' group would have to run up the long Bannon driveway filled with delivery trucks and then around the chain-link fence. But there was no doubt they were coming for them.

  "We have to get out of here," Willow said, slamming shut her laptop. "We recorded the video. It's evidence. We can't let them get a hold of it."

  She slid the computer inside her backpack as Elon and Linden roughly shoved all the other gear into their backpacks. They took off at a run, out of the adjoining property, and onto the street.

  They beat Mr. Hutchins and the other workers to the street, and pealed out down the sidewalk.

  Their backpacks slammed up and down on their shoulders as they ran. The heavy bags loaded with gear slowed them down. When Linden glanced back, he saw Mr. Hutchins and two other workers half a block behind them.

  "Run faster," Linden gasped. "They're gaining."

  They put on another small burst of energy, even as Linden saw the tears still coming down Elon's face.

  "I want the Silver Dragon back!" Elon yelled as tears streamed down his face.

  "We'll get it," Willow promised. "Somehow. But we have to get away, or they'll take my laptop and then we'll have no proof and it will all be for nothing."

  Their energy started to flag several blocks on, and Mr. Hutchins's group grew closer, less than a hundred feet away.

  "What do we do?" Willow cried.

  "Bobby, trip them!" Linden yelled.

  Willow yelled back, "BOBBY IS NOT--"

  A thud behind them caused them to all look back. Mr. Hutchins had tripped, and his coworkers were helping him up.

  "Huh," Willow said.

  "The streetcar!" Linden gasping for breath and pointing to the end of the block. "It's pulling in."

  Indeed, the Portland streetcar was slowing at a stop less than a block away.

  "Time for warp nine, guys," Willow said, sweat streaking down her face.

  The streetcar stopped, people got off and on. Linden, Willow, and Elon raced up as the doors started to close. They dashed inside, their backpacks nearly caught in the doorway.

  Linden's vision was starting to go dark, and he couldn't hear a thing over the blood pounding in his ears. But he looked up with alarm when something slammed against the door just inches away. His heart beat even harder as he realized that Mr. Hutchins stood outside banging on the glass door!

  The streetcar slowly pulled away, Mr. Hutchins running alongside and banging on the door, until it outpaced him and left him behind.

  Linden dropped onto a seat in exhaustion and shock. "Holy cow."

  Willow and Elon plopped down next to him.

  Willow's face had gone white. "I think I almost got us all killed."

  Elon wiped tears away with one sleeve. "How are we going to get the drone back?"

  Willow turned and hugged him. "We'll do everything we can. If we have to, we'll build it from scratch."

  "But the science fair is this Friday!"

  Willow shook her head. "I know you're just thinking about the drone, but look at the evidence we gathered. We have to go right to the principal's office. Once we get that taken of, we'll figure out what to do."

  Elon hugged his legs and didn't speak for the rest of the way to school.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  WILLOW ARRIVED AT school with her brothers in tow. She had tried to comfort Elon, who was still despondent over the loss of the drone, and Linden, who was generally terrified, but she was so in shock herself, she fe
lt drained.

  As they walked up the stairs at the main entrance of Mt. Hood Elementary, parents and other kids stopped and stared at them.

  Willow glanced down at herself and her brothers. They were sweaty, covered in grease and dirt from the parking lot, and completely disheveled from their long run from Mr. Hutchins. She'd somehow ripped her second-favorite pair of leggings.

  She held her head up high, grabbed her brothers' hands, and stalked up the stairs to the main office.

  She stood in the front of the long counter until the office manager noticed her and came over.

  "We need to see Principal Winterson immediately," Willow said. "It's...a matter of life and death."

  The manager looked the three of them up and down. "Come with me."

  She led them through the room to the side door of the principal's office. She knocked twice, then opened the door. "Mrs. Winterson, these students need to see you right away."

  "Send them in," Mrs. Winterson said.

  They entered together and the door closed behind then. They stood standing in front of the principal's desk. She sat, fingers interlaced, and waited for them to talk.

  The silence lingered on, but suddenly Willow was afraid to speak. What if the principal didn't believe her? What if Mr. Hutchins was waiting outside to kill them? What if they'd broken some law when they spied on the warehouse, and had to go to jail? What if they were wrong about everything? What were her parents going to say?

  She opened her mouth, but no words would come to her.

  Linden looked at her, then cleared his throat. "Mrs. Winterson, you may be aware that some students have been getting sick. Willow noticed that it was only certain kids and only on certain days."

  "Is that so?" Mrs. Winterson looked directly at Willow.

  "That's true," she said, in a whisper. She took a breath and forced herself to speak in a bigger voice. "Only those kids who ate hot lunch on Mondays and Thursdays."