“The final step in our master plan.” Mr. Sneed giggled.
“The final step in our first step,” Elvira corrected him. “Then we have additional first and final steps as we spread our brainwashing across the globe.”
Mr. Sneed nodded. “You’re always a step ahead of me.”
“I thought the tower was part of the plan!” exclaimed Wilmer. “I found freshly buried wires, so I knew something must be up.” He scratched his head. “But then, I assumed the tower was really old. I even saw cracks along the steel base.”
Mr. Sneed sniffed. “You try building a nearly one-thousand-foot-tall metal tower by yourself over a weekend, and see how you do. Although it does seem to be falling apart quicker than I thought it would.”
“But you can’t take over the world!” cried Roxie. “You could never build enough radio towers to fill it.”
Mr. Sneed shuddered. “I don’t have enough wire.”
“Of course not,” spat Elvira. “We need something smaller. More effective. Something that kids everywhere listen to time and time again.”
“Like an iNoise!” screamed Wilmer and Harriet at once.
Elvira smiled. She pulled a large cardboard box out from under her desk. It was the same box the kids had filled with their electronics on the first day they arrived. Elvira reached her hand inside and pulled out an iNoise. “Each is now designed to play a nearly silent, evil brain-warping frequency while dispensing our rotten commands. It’s the perfect way to reach middle-school ears! But that’s not the best part. Our sound app will automatically spread to other iNoises, like bacteria! Soon every iNoise in the world will become our own personal brainwashing device!”
Wilmer shuddered. He was all too familiar with bacteria and how easily they spread if unstopped. The Mumpley contagion had nearly made everyone in his school explode. But this was worse. This contagion might turn the world’s brains into soup.
“We should go transmit our orders from the tower,” said Elvira to Mr. Sneed.
“But what should we do with them?” Mr. Sneed pointed to Wilmer and his friends. His voice dripped in disgust.
Elvira shook her head. “Leave them here. Once we perform the final brain purge, they’ll be part of our army.”
“Wasting a mind is a terrible thing to waste,” agreed Mr. Sneed. He hoisted the giant box of gadgets, cackled, and walked out the door with Elvira.
“Good-bye,” said Elvira with a snort. “More like bad-bye, actually. Not much good about it. For you, at least.”
She laughed again, as did Mr. Sneed. They closed the door behind them. Wilmer looked at Harriet and Roxie. He gulped. He took a deep breath and rushed to the door to break free.
It was locked.
He kicked it as hard as he could.
And stubbed his toe.
He rammed into it with his shoulder.
Which really hurt his shoulder.
He started to run into it headfirst, and then decided that was a bad idea.
It was no use. They were trapped.
A small loudspeaker was fixed above Elvira’s desk. It squawked. Roxie clamped on her headphones, and Wilmer and Harriet flipped in their earplugs.
Still, the blaring announcement trickled into Wilmer’s ears. His head spun. He balled his fists and tried his best to bury the brainwashed fury that was starting to bubble up inside him. He needed to stay in control of his brain, now more than ever.
“Attention, dear, dear students,” said the raspy, distorted voice of Mr. Sneed. Or maybe Elvira. It was impossible to tell. “Happy, happy, joy, joy, fun, fun. Thank you.”
“Oh, no!” exclaimed Harriet. “More evil orders!”
The loudspeaker screeched and the walls creaked. The floor trembled. The cracks in the drywall—for they were everywhere—now looked even deeper. One long crevice reached from the floorboards all the way to the ceiling. Some drywall flakes crumbled to the ground.
Roxie pounded on the door. “Help! We’re trapped!”
Wilmer and Harriet joined her. “Help! Help! Let us out!”
After a minute, they stopped hitting. Wilmer’s palms hurt and it wasn’t getting them anywhere, anyway. “It’s no use!” wailed Roxie. “We’ll never escape.”
Wilmer crumpled to the floor like the plaster floating down from the ceiling. He buried his head in his hands. “Observation!” he moaned. “That’s what scientists do, and I’ve done a lousy job of it. I failed to observe Elvira being evil. I didn’t observe Mr. Sneed wiring the radio tower, even though he was walking around with cables sticking out of his back pocket. I insisted Claudius was guilty, even when it was impossible. And now we’re all going to suffer the consequences.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Harriet sat beside Wilmer and put her arm around his shoulders. “You’re cute when you’re angry. And it’s not your fault we’re in this predicament. Only sort of.”
“And I don’t totally blame you for acting like a jerk the last day or two,” said Roxie. “Only mostly.”
“Thanks, I think,” mumbled Wilmer. “But we all know I’m the reason every middle-schooler in the world will soon have soup for brains.”
“It’s not so bad,” said Roxie. “I like soup.” Wilmer and Harriet frowned. “Well, I guess it is so bad. It can’t be much worse, actually. But I missed all the signs too. I’m a reporter! Gwendolyn Bray would have figured it out.”
“And I’m a scientist too,” said Harriet. “Not as great as you, Wilmy. I am a Grand Newtonian winner, but I don’t pretend to be as amazing as you, not in the least. Just this morning a girl stole my calculator and chewed on it. I thought she was hungry.”
But Wilmer knew he was the most responsible. He swallowed a big gob of guilt-laden spittle, and then the door opened.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The Private Office of Elvira Padgett
Restricted!
Go away!
Do not enter without knocking, and even then, don’t even think about it!
Keep out!
That means you, buster!
Mrs. Valveeta Padgett gasped with surprise. Her gasp was followed by a slight wheeze. She rested her hand over her heart. There were children in her sister’s office. She hadn’t expected that. And certainly not these children. Why did Wilmer Dooley seem to pop up everywhere? Mrs. Padgett would have nightmares for weeks, with Wilmer Dooley jumping in and out of them like some sort of deranged jack-in-the-box.
Elvira had told her not to enter this office, and she was very particular about that sort of thing. But Mrs. Padgett needed a quiet place to work. Exceptions must be made. After all, she’d just had a brilliant idea for her next television script, comparing mah-jongg to tree fungus. You might not think the two have much in common. Actually, you’d be right. That’s why she needed a quiet place to work.
She would have written in her hotel room—she had her own king-size suite. But the faucet leaked and the steady drip, drip, drip was driving her nuts. This whole hotel was falling apart, actually. What did Mr. Sneed do, anyway? He wasn’t much of a handyman, that much was for sure.
“I’ll leave you kids alone . . . ,” Mrs. Padgett said as she stepped back and began to close the door.
But Wilmer jumped up, waving his hands. What did that irritating boy want now? “Wait! Stop!” he cried. “We’re trapped. Your sister and Mr. Sneed are planning to take over the world! They’re brainwashing all the kids and turning their brains into soupy mush. Or mushy soup. Really, it’s the same thing.”
Mrs. Padgett frowned. She didn’t want to believe Wilmer Dooley. The boy was prone to raising needless alarms. But she had to admit: that was so like Elvira. As kids, Elvira always said her dream in life was to become an astronaut or to turn people’s heads into mush. And she hadn’t become an astronaut, had she?
Mrs. Padgett looked up. A loud rumbling sound came from above her.
She jumped to the side—pure instinct, really—as part of the roof collapsed, sending plaster and rubble and a large wooden bea
m crashing into the room. It missed her by inches. A cloud of dust settled around her legs. She’d have to repolish her shoes now, which was a shame. She had spent a great chunk of the morning polishing them already. “Oh, my. Is my sister destroying the hotel, too?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Wilmer. “But the shifting and cracking walls don’t look safe.”
No, they didn’t. Mrs. Padgett had noticed, of course. Science was about observation and being a television star. Mostly, being a star. But a little observation was necessary. She figured the crevices and uneven ceilings were just part of the decor, or that they were due to Mr. Sneed’s inadequate maintenance. She hadn’t considered that they might be part of some diabolical scheme.
“We’d better find your sister and Mr. Sneed,” said Wilmer.
“Don’t be absurd,” said Mrs. Padgett. “I can’t let you leave.” Mrs. Padgett didn’t support her sister’s insane thirst for power. But family was family.
“You have to,” pleaded Harriet. “Or the entire world is doomed.”
“Surely you exaggerate,” said Mrs. Padgett. “Doomed? That’s so melodramatic. A few kids’ heads turn into soup. Is that so bad? Do you dislike soup? And maybe the world should be conquered. Have you considered that?”
“They’d probably cancel your TV show,” said Roxie. “There won’t be television shows if everyone’s brains are turned to mush.”
Mrs. Padgett shrieked. Saving the world wasn’t worth her efforts—but saving her TV show? She had worked too hard to see it canceled merely because her sister wanted brain soup. What about that script she wrote comparing mah-jongg with plumbing? Was her Emmy just a pipe dream?
“Very well,” Mrs. Padgett said, stepping aside. “Save the world then. If you must.”
Wilmer, Harriet, and Roxie rushed out of the office. As they scooted past the registration counter and into the lobby, they nearly crashed into Dr. Dill.
“Dr. Dill!” cried Roxie. “Mr. Sneed and—”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s horrible and needs my immediate attention to save hundreds of kids. But I should take this first.” His phone was blaring Beethoven. “Dill, here . . . She has Sticky Buns, you say? . . . Have you tried icing them?” He wandered away.
Wilmer raced down the hallway, with Roxie and Harriet following. They needed to get back to the radio control room. They needed to order everyone to cover their ears.
The hallway was dense with students, all of them performing random acts of mayhem. Some ripped apart the couch, and others clawed at the walls. A few girls in JUNIOR HIGH COLLEGE TECH PREP FOR REALLY GIFTED SMART KIDS jackets barked like angry wolves.
One girl in a dress held a knife and was covered in blood!
Wilmer screamed!
No, wait. She was covered in pizza sauce and she held a plastic spoon. But still, it was frightening.
Wilmer sidestepped the lumbering kids as they snarled at him and his friends. A few trudged toward them, but they were pretty easy to avoid. Up ahead was Ernie. Wilmer’s best friend wandered the hall in a daze, stumbling forward and throwing random punches at the air. “Ernie!” Wilmer yelled. “Are you okay? We have to save the world!”
Ernie stared at Wilmer, his eyes narrowed into angry slits. He hissed.
“Ernie!” yelled Wilmer. “It’s me!”
Ernie hissed again.
Wilmer grabbed Ernie’s shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes. Deep down, below the anger, was good old Ernie. If only Wilmer could get through to him, and peel back the force that was twisting his mind. “Snap out of it, buddy. You can do it.” Wilmer held up his thumb. “Give me your best-friend thumbshake!”
Ernie looked down at Wilmer’s thumb and then at his own thumb. Was that a glimmer of recognition in his eye? Ernie held his thumb up. He brought it closer to Wilmer’s thumb.
Closer.
Then he lunged and poked at Wilmer’s eye. Thankfully, Wilmer wore glasses.
But Wilmer was unprepared for Ernie’s sudden attack. Ernie’s hands clutched Wilmer’s throat as he ranted, “Must choke collars! Must hit records! Must whip cream!” Wilmer fell to the ground and Ernie landed on top of him. Ernie’s fingers clutched tighter.
And then a hand flew down and clocked Ernie on the nose.
Ernie fell off, knocked out cold.
Harriet massaged her knuckles. “That hurt a bit more than I expected. But by taking into account the mathematical formula of F=ma, where F is force and ma stands for mass times acceleration, I was able to aim about one hundred Newtons of force directly at Ernie’s proboscis and . . .”
“Um, maybe we can finish that later,” suggested Wilmer. “We’re in a bit of a rush.”
“Anything for you, Wilmy,” Harriet answered shyly, with a bat of her eyes.
They dashed down the hall. There it was: the door to the control room. The door was open—Harriet didn’t even need to whistle! Wilmer peeked inside. He took a step past the doorframe.
And then the roof collapsed.
Wilmer leaped back, narrowly avoiding huge hunks of plaster and a few steel beams as they crashed to the ground. A toilet from the room above fell through the center table, followed by pipes and a sink. Part of a bed slid into the room, and an end table. Dust and pulverized rubble swirled through the air and covered the kids. Harsh coughs bellowed from Wilmer’s throat.
When the dust cleared, Wilmer stared in dismay. Every piece of equipment was completely destroyed. Small flames leaped from the counter, wires sparked, and a layer of thin plaster covered everything. A fallen piece of concrete had created a giant crater in the middle of the audio controls. The furniture from the room directly overhead lay in pieces on the ground.
Wilmer bent down and ran his fingers along one of the steel beams that had collapsed. It was lined with cracks. It reminded him of the strangely worn radio tower.
“So that’s it?” cried Roxie. “We’ve lost? The bad guys got away? The kids are brainwashed and the only way to reverse the evil orders has been destroyed?” Her cheeks were moist with tears. She stepped closer to Wilmer. She gazed into his eyes. “If this is the end of the road, I guess I should tell you something. Wilmer, I’ve felt this way for a long time. I’ve never had the nerve to tell you but I have always—”
“This is not the end of the road,” interrupted Harriet. She stepped directly in front of Wilmer. She stood only an inch from him, maybe less—Wilmer didn’t have time to accurately measure the distance. “Maybe we can still save everyone. Mr. Sneed and Elvira are heading to the radio tower for the final brain purge. We have to go there. Now. And stop them!”
“Um, how about after Roxie finishes what she was about to say?” suggested Wilmer. His heart was beating rapidly and his adrenal glands were pumping, secreting buckets of dopamine and epinephrine. “Go on,” He nudged Harriet a few inches to the side so he could better stare at Roxie.
“There’s no time,” Roxie said. “Harriet is right. We have to find Elvira and Mr. Sneed now. Everything else can wait.”
Wilmer groaned, but nodded. Roxie was probably just going to say, “I have always wanted to bowl.” Or, “I have always liked applesauce.”
They sprinted down the hall. Fissures spread throughout the ceiling above, and small avalanches of plaster rained down. They could hear unsettling creaks from the walls and beneath their feet. Wilmer sidestepped growling and snarling kids who didn’t seem to notice the hotel’s state of disaster. “Must crack corn!” one roared. “Must crunch numbers!”
Wilmer and his friends reached the lobby and found themselves standing in the middle of a riot. Kids smashed chairs against walls and pieces of wall against chairs. Loose flooring was torn up, and roofing was torn down. To make matters worse, Claudius and Vlad were running toward them. Wilmer crouched, ready for anything.
“What’s happening?” asked Vlad, looking around the lobby in horror. “Everyone’s gone completely crazy!”
“Do you see any brain mush?” asked Wilmer, his legs shaking with worry. V
lad shook his head. Wilmer took a deep breath. “Then there’s still time.”
“All the kids are being brainwashed into helping Elvira and Mr. Sneed rule the world,” explained Roxie. “If we don’t stop them, everyone’s brains will be turned into soup.”
“Cool,” said Claudius. When Wilmer shot him a dirty look, he quickly added, “Or rather, it would be cool, if they weren’t planning on turning our brains into soup too.”
“Maybe we can help stop them,” offered Vlad.
“We’ll take all the help we can get,” said Roxie.
“How do we know they aren’t in league with Sneed and Elvira?” Wilmer pointed to the cousins with an accusing finger. His voice shook with anger. They were still the enemy! “Harriet and I have been wearing earplugs. Roxie has her earphones. But if they’re so innocent, then why aren’t they acting nuts? Huh? You can never fool observation, and I’ve observed their suspicious behavior all weekend!”
Vlad tugged his earlobe and wiggled his finger. After a moment, he extracted a small button-size device hidden in his ear. “Spy buds,” he said.
Claudius removed two from his own ears. “Pretty cool, huh? They let us listen in on conversations. We’ve been trying to learn secrets, especially about the science fair. Anything to get an edge. These suckers can hear conversations from across the room.”
“But wouldn’t that make the announcements louder?” asked Roxie.
“A lot louder. So every time they made an announcement, we had to turn the volume way down so we couldn’t hear anything,” explained Claudius. He tugged his earlobe to show how the volume control worked.
“We’ve learned all kinds of stuff,” said Vlad. “We overheard six school locker combinations. We learned about three surprise parties. And we know what brand of toothpaste that group of girls from the Biotechnical Educational Institute for Kids Who Are Smarter Than You brush with.”
“No one really talked about anything helpful,” Claudius admitted.
“You must have at least overheard Sneed and Elvira plotting!” exclaimed Wilmer.
Claudius shook his head. “We never listen in on adult conversations. What’s the fun in that?”
The Amazing Wilmer Dooley Page 12
