by Jeff Miller
“Guys, I don’t want to be a buzzkill,” said Biggs, his mouth full of Peruvian hot cocoa. “But we should get back soon. Everybody was going to stay at my house another night, plus I’ve got like ninety litter boxes to clean.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve contacted your mother on behalf of the Robiskie Foundation, letting her know the three of you were selected as convention guests of honor, receiving a free night’s stay,” said Wifi. “As for the cat litter, you’re on your own.”
“Riley will help your mom out, I’m sure,” said Neil.
“Anyone care for cereal dessert?” asked Reboot. He opened boxes of exotic cereal from Panama and Vancouver. Neil ate fistfuls of sugary flakes and chocolate-flavored puffy puffs. His tongue was raw from the sugar overload, but he was in bliss. With Biggs and Sam fading, Neil and Reboot Robiskie moved to his server room to watch kids across the globe do Chameleon battle. The room glowed with the flashing of screens. A few tiny white lights were built into the ceiling.
“I could live forever on this yacht,” said Neil. “And I get seasick pretty easily, so that’s saying something.”
Reboot chuckled.
“You all are funny. It’s good to have you aboard.”
For someone living every kid’s dream, Reboot Robiskie didn’t seem very enthusiastic. Neil imagined a life of constantly being on the run, though. It would get old fast.
“Is it just you and Wifi out here all the time? I bet you guys get bored,” said Neil. “You do have space for a bigger crew.”
“It’s the life we’ve chosen,” Reboot said. “And I’ve learned it’s very hard to find people to trust.”
“Why do you trust us?”
“Call it a hunch.”
Neil slurped his slushie and looked at the games Reboot was currently hosting. A pleasant moment of silence passed between them.
“I like collecting things from parts of the world people couldn’t even imagine,” Reboot said, the fans from his server flipping on in the background. “Like my newest toy; I call it ‘The Crow’s Nest.’”
Reboot pulled out a small drone from a dark corner of the room. It looked a lot like Neil’s back home.
“No way! That thing is awesome.”
“It was awesome. But I broke it last week when I was escaping from the Japanese coast guard.”
“I made one for myself, but I broke it, too. . . . It went haywire at a robotics convention.”
“That’s still pretty cool that you made it yourself,” said Reboot, placing the robot back on the ground.
He and Neil plopped into comfy chairs. It was somewhere near noon in Shanghai when Neil’s eyes finally closed, his smiling lips stained purple.
“OH, SWEET MERCIFUL FRUCTOSE,” SAID NEIL, HIS EYES WHIPPING open. He’d fallen asleep in a chair surrounded by video games. Neil’s breath smelled like dried slugs. He slowly got up and walked out onto the lower level of the ship. It was morning, and the sun was just beginning to crawl up over the horizon. Neil looked around for Reboot, but he was nowhere to be found.
Must be in his quarters. I wish I could live somewhere with quarters.
Neil did his best to clean up as he made his way to the top deck, grabbing half-full bags of candy and picking up some of the few hundred mozzarella sticks covering the stairs.
Biggs and Sam were on either side of the top deck, both still asleep. Biggs’s lips were stained purple, and Sam’s glasses were covered in caramel.
“Rise and shine, recruits,” Neil said. “We accidentally went into candy hibernation, I think.”
“Ughhh,” said Biggs, squinting in the sun.
“Yeah, I know,” said Neil. “But it was worth it. Can you believe we just stayed on Reboot’s yacht?”
“I think there was a Swedish Fish migration in my intestines last night,” said Biggs. He’d spent the night on a white cushioned bench, using the cardboard from the frozen pizzas for a blanket.
Sam sat up from her makeshift nest of fluffy towels.
“Where’s Reboot?” she asked, doing her best to comb out her bed head. “And do you have any vegetables or fruit on this ship? I think my body is in sugar shock.”
Biggs examined the leftover pizza.
“We might have a few pineapple slices,” he replied. “But that’s about it.”
The sky grew lighter above the calm ocean.
Seagulls flocked overhead, looking for snacks.
“Good morning,” said Wifi. “Mr. Robiskie has arranged for you to be taken to Mr. Hurbigg’s residence.”
“Who’s that?” asked Biggs, pulling half-eaten gummy candies from his pockets before popping them into his mouth. “Oh, right. That’s me.”
“Do we get to say good-bye?” asked Neil.
“Mr. Robiskie hates saying good-bye. And anyway, he can watch you any time you log onto his site. We also will be in contact about being part of our video-game selection committee. For the games we choose to host,” the kid replied.
“Awesome,” said Sam.
“Mr. Robiskie said to tell you that he considers you friends, and that he does anything for friends. Now let’s go—your ride is ready.”
NEIL, BIGGS, AND SAM JUMPED INTO SHALLOW WATER JUST off a small beach. Biggs’s house was at the top of the cove.
“Thanks for the lift, Wifi,” said Biggs, waving back to the boat.
They’d been given fresh, all-white outfits, but they were already soaked up to their knees. There were only size-medium outfits, so Biggs’s pant legs stopped with six inches of shin left to go.
“Yuck,” said Neil. He pulled his foot out of the mucky sand to find some seaweed tangled around his ankle. The smell of fish was in the air, blowing in with the strong ocean breeze. Biggs looked up toward his house.
“Well,” said Biggs, gazing at his humble abode. “I wonder if they made it back last night. . . .”
“And if they did, I wonder if the cats got the best of ’em,” joked Neil.
Sam gave a halfhearted laugh.
“Like Wifi said, Reboot took care of everyone,” Neil reassured them.
“You guys don’t feel like we ditched everybody?” she asked. She’d held her shoes in her hand, like a smart person, and was putting them back on as Neil wrung out the wet cuffs of his pants.
“I guess we kind of did, in a technical sense,” Neil said. “But we just had a night on Reboot Robiskie’s secret yacht, guys. You know how many kids would want that chance?”
“Thousands,” said Biggs.
“Worldwide, probably millions,” said Neil. “And we got to live it. I bet everyone else had a blast playing games at Biggs’s house.”
“I know we’re lucky. Would’ve just been nice to have our whole group there is all,” Sam said. She started hiking uphill toward Biggs’s house.
Neil tried to follow, but strong arms suddenly grabbed him from behind. For the second time in a year, Neil felt the coarse fibers of a large burlap bag being pulled over his head. It was quickly secured around his waist, and a drawstring was cinched, restricting his arms and hands.
“Gah!” he yelled.
Neil was hoisted up from the sand, his legs thrashing as if he were on an invisible bicycle. He was thrown over someone’s shoulder.
“What’s happening?” yelled Sam. Neil could hear panic in her voice. “Who are you?!”
“Oh, no!” screamed Biggs. “I know who it is. The recycling police!”
“What?” screamed Sam.
“I threw an aluminum can away in the regular trash at that convention,” Biggs explained. “They must’ve got me on video. I’ve let Earth down!”
Neil, however, was unsure that the recycling police was an official arm of the government. . . . It could only be . . .
Stuck in a burlap sack, Neil stopped fighting. He felt overwhelmingly calm.
“Wait, guys. I know who it is!” Neil said, smiling. “We’re back to burlap bags now, Jonesy? Wanna keep the mission a secret this time?”
“Wait, you really think this is
Jones?” asked Biggs.
“Of course! Who else would it be?”
“Neil, I’m not so sure. I’ve got a weird feeling about this,” said Sam.
“Guys, trust me,” Neil replied. Neil heard the sound of crashing waves grow closer as he was carried back to the ocean. “Now take us away, Jones. Let’s see what you’ve got in store for us this time.”
A loud grunt replied, and Neil was thrown from someone’s broad shoulder onto a boat. Neil heard the creak of a door, and he was picked up again and brought belowdecks. Biggs was just to his right, Sam at his left. It was completely dark.
“You guys doing OK?” Neil asked.
“Well, we’re in burlap bags on a boat. Not sure if ‘OK’ would describe what’s really happening,” said Sam. “But I’m alive, yes.”
“Don’t worry,” Neil reassured her. “I’m sure Jones has another mission that needs saving—and we’re the only ones to do it.”
“If you say so,” said Biggs. “But you have to help me with my composting if we get put in recycling jail.”
“I’ll be your cell mate,” Neil said. “The rest of the group must be waiting for us. Jones wouldn’t have known where to find us on Reboot’s yacht. Nobody can find that thing by design.”
With a jolt, the boat headed out to sea. Neil Andertol was excited.
“Just you wait, guys—our most amazing mission is about to start.”
AFTER TWENTY MINUTES OF LYING ON AN UNFORGIVING metal floor, Neil had lost feeling in his feet and hands. Unlike in previous kidnappings, Neil, Sam, and Biggs were lashed together, and the metal floor was cold and wet, and smelled a bit like fish guts, even through the burlap sack. It was difficult to move, and Neil had already tried to escape unsuccessfully. He was dripping sweat.
“OK, so maybe I was wrong about the mission thing,” admitted Neil. “I’m starting to get a weird feeling about this—beyond seasickness, that is.”
“Ya think?” said Sam. “I’ve been trying to get a hand free for the last twenty minutes.”
“Yeah, I don’t know if this is Jones,” said Biggs. “Also, does anybody else smell ketchup?”
“I only smell trout guts,” said Neil. “Let’s work together to get these things off us so we can see where we are, at least.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Sam.
“I have a couple fingers and half a foot free,” said Biggs. “Maybe we can untie one another.”
The three friends scrunched together. Neil could feel Sam’s wrists and the fraying cord. He searched for the end of the knot.
“Do we have anything sharp to try to cut us free?” asked Neil.
“Yeah, sure thing. Let me just reach into my knife supply,” Sam said sarcastically.
“It was worth a shot!” defended Neil.
“Wait, I might have something!” said Biggs. “Can anybody reach my right pocket?”
“Wait, do you seriously have a knife?” Sam asked.
“Gimme a second. I think I can reach you, Biggs,” said Neil. He twisted his body. “What is this?”
“Last night Reboot gave me this candy from Singapore. It’s like goo,” said Biggs. “I couldn’t stop eating it. I had a package and a half this morning, so I figured I’d take it with me. It’s pretty much red sugar-slime.”
“And I’m the one that gets to stick his hands in it? Lucky me!” said Neil.
“Listen, I’ve got the slender, unblemished hands of a professional hand model and we all know it,” said Biggs. “I can squeeze out of these ropes. I just need a little help.”
Neil rolled his eyes and stretched out his fingertips, fishing a hand into his friend’s pocket. He found something in the shape of a half-used toothpaste container.
“Got it!” Neil said. He carefully plucked the candy goo from Biggs’s pocket, making sure not to drop it on the wet floor. Neil passed the slimy toothpaste tube to Sam, who was able to squeeze some out onto Biggs’s arms, which were tied behind his back.
Neil could feel his friend squirm.
“Almost out . . . just a few more seconds . . .”
Neil was starting to worry about the location of his other friends. If this isn’t a mission, then where is everyone else? Are they locked up somewhere, too?
“Yes! I’m out!” said Biggs, untying the knots around Sam’s hands. “Now don’t waste any more of that candy goo—that’s precious stuff.”
Once Sam was free, the two squirmed to help Neil. He was happy to get the heavy bag off his sweaty head.
“Let’s see if there’s a light,” said Sam.
But the room was windowless and completely dark. Its floor was covered with an inch of cold water that sloshed back and forth. Neil reached his arms in front of him, feeling for a light switch or doorway leading out. He tried listening for any noises outside the room.
“Where are we?” asked Biggs. Neil could hear him licking the last traces of candy from his arms.
“Somewhere where people can’t find us, I bet,” said Neil. He heard the faint sound of footsteps coming from above. His brain raced to think of a solution. “If we’re still out at sea, maybe there’s a way we can get in touch with Reboot.”
“Not sure how,” said Biggs. “Isn’t his boat designed to be basically untraceable?”
“Yeah, good point,” said Sam.
Neil swallowed hard. He needed to think of a way out.
“Oh, my phone!” said Sam.
Sam’s phone!
“You have yours? Mine died on Reboot’s boat,” said Biggs.
“I turned it off to save the battery. With any luck there’s still some juice in it,” Sam said.
Neil could hear Sam fidgeting with her phone, and he watched the screen blink on. Her phone beeped with several incoming messages.
“Yes! This is gonna work!” Neil shouted.
“It’s Corinne. She texted last night,” Sam said.
“What’d she say?” asked Neil.
“Uh-oh,” Sam said.
“What ‘uh-oh’?” Neil said, worried. “What are we ‘uh-oh’-ing?”
“This thing must’ve gotten damaged. Waterlogged or something,” Sam said. She shook the phone furiously, but it didn’t help. Tiny drops of water clung to the inside of the phone screen.
She did her best to read the message, but it was clouded with condensation. “She says she’s sorry we had better things to do, so everybody left early.”
Neil felt guilty—like, actually guilty. His friends had traveled all that way to meet at the convention—and then they were kicked out. All while he had the time of his life. The current situation seemed like fair payback.
Buzzzz.
With a defeated beep, Sam’s phone died.
“Welp, that settles that. Guess there’s no calling anybody,” said Sam.
The cold water at their feet rushed forward as the boat’s engine cut off. The floor stopped vibrating as the three paused in silence, unsure of what might happen next.
A metal hatch jerked open with a rusty squeak. Sunlight filtered into the room. Two muscled, bearded men in all-denim outfits looked down.
“Who said you could untie yourselves?” said one of them, who wore a gray stocking cap. He had a stubby nose that was slightly crooked.
“Never mind. Ze captain wants to see you,” said the other. He had black hair with flecks of silver mixed in. They both spoke in thick French accents.
“What if we don’t want to see the captain?” replied Neil.
“That eez not how this works,” said the man in the hat.
Neil thought back to the small amount of karate wisdom his sister had passed on to him. If they charge at us, what would Janey do? Go for the ankles?
The two men turned and walked away, leaving the entrance open. An ocean breeze dipped into the stuffy room. The air was refreshing.
“What are you guys thinking?” said Biggs. “I’m worried there’s, like, even bigger burlap bags waiting for us up there.”
Neil’s eyes narrowed.
&
nbsp; Sam nodded at Neil. “Maybe it is a mission after all.”
Neil knew they had no other option and climbed up the slimy metal ladder. He poked his head into the sunshine. There was no sign of the henchmen—or land, for that matter. Neil saw only stretches of unending ocean.
How far away from home are we?
Neil climbed out and turned to help Biggs and Sam. In stark contrast to the metal room they’d been in, the boat was a beautiful pearl-colored yacht. It was double the size of Reboot’s and was filled with all sorts of sophisticated diving equipment.
Neil could see the ship wasn’t like a regular boat with a large hull—it had a huge opening in the center, like a donut. A semitruck could fit through the center without scraping the sparkly paint job.
“This way, please,” said one of the men, scowling. He pointed toward the cabin at the prow of the ship.
“Do we trust this?” asked Sam.
“More than jumping off and swimming home. The water could have sharks,” said Neil. “Let’s just see who this is.”
Neil entered the surprisingly lavish cabin. Mirrors trimmed in gold were bolted to walls covered in amber wallpaper. The floor was covered in intricately stitched rugs with golden tassels. Expensive, very breakable-looking marble sculptures were perched in all corners of the room. It smelled like Neil’s grandmother’s house.
At the front of the cabin was an old-fashioned steering wheel and two albino parrots inside a large copper cage. A girl stood silhouetted by the window.
“Wow,” Neil said. “Nice digs.”
“Well, thank you,” said the girl. She wore an intricate off-white dress. Its sleeves came down to her wrists in patterns that reminded Neil of his grandmother’s couch doilies. It looked fancy.
“Who are you?” blurted Neil.
She stepped out from behind the large birdcage.
“Jolly?”
It was the host from Reboot’s convention, without bright stage lights on her face.
The girl’s eyes glistened as she gave a short laugh.
“I knew I’d get you here somehow,” Jolly said. She walked to a cushy leather couch and sat, tapping the glass of a bottle containing a small model ship.
“What’s going on?” asked Neil.
