by Jeff Miller
The group put their hands in the middle of a circle and did a giant high five. They were ready.
When everyone had settled down, Neil continued, “Jolly’s boat had some sophisticated technology, like the jet fighters we piloted,” said Neil. “I’m sure everything is cloaked, but her big secret is that her family’s ketchup drives sharks crazy. It’s how she lures them to her, so we can hopefully just follow their trail.”
“Yes!” Weo shouted. The group turned to face him.
“Sorry,” the boy president said. “I’ve got a connection, is all.”
“No, that’s good,” said Biggs.
“No calls, unfortunately. Only internet, and it’s sketchy—I’m bouncing a signal off some satellites.”
“Nice—that’s a pro move,” said Yuri.
“But . . . I think I’ve got some news that may be helpful. Did you just say ketchup?” said Weo.
“Yeah, krill ketchup,” said Neil. “She said it works better than anything to attract sharks. It’s a secret recipe. I think her great-grandparents stole it from somewhere in Japan, during their pirate days.”
“What did you find, Weo?” asked Sam.
“I just got a breaking news story emailed to me,” said Weo. “The headline today was ‘ketchup.’”
“So?” said Waffles, who was walking around the office and playing with ostrich toys.
“It looks like today was the biggest ocean ketchup spill in over seventy years. Since the great Tomato Tsunami, whatever that was.”
Neil stared at the computer screen. A red banner was stretched across the top of the screen announcing BREAKING NEWS. Weo pressed play and clicked the volume to its highest setting. The video struggled, moving in choppy spurts.
“Breaking news internationally from the high seas,” a newscaster said, her voice a powerful monotone. “In our top story, several freighters leaving from Japan and carrying high-end ketchup have all crashed in the Pacific Ocean during a routine shipment, spilling thousands of gallons of ketchup.”
Neil gasped. The video continued, pausing a moment to buffer.
“And later, we break the story on yet another reported mass shark migration. We’ll have live interviews with fishermen in Hawaii as they describe the incredible sight of hundreds of the wild animals swimming past their boats.”
The anchorwoman turned to a new camera angle, shuffling a few papers in her hands.
“And now more on the Japanese freighters. From our business insider report, the cargo of most ships was mainly bottles of a rare luxury ketchup.”
The anchorwoman continued.
“Spills have been reported from every corner of the Pacific Ocean but seem to be centralized toward the southwestern United States area. We’ll keep you updated with every piece of information, no matter how small or unimportant.”
The video stopped, and another about a waterskiing hedgehog began to load. Biggs looked conflicted as Weo exited the video player.
“We have to stop her!” Corinne yelped.
“You guys think those spills are this Jolly person?” said Weo. “If so, our islands aren’t too far from their location.”
“I know they aren’t. The ketchup makes sharks go crazy. Jolly will be headed right for them, scooping up as many sharks as she can,” said Sam. “Or making somebody else do it.”
“I think she kidnapped Trevor and the Jasons to drive the megalodon,” said Neil.
Neil was worried about Trevor. Not only was he an efficient and skilled pilot, but he always seemed to be out to prove himself. Mixed with the fact that Jolly was probably offering him a fortune beyond his wildest dreams, Neil understood that it was not an ideal situation.
“I wish I could say I had some kind of foolproof plan, but I don’t,” Neil said to the team. He felt like he should be giving a brave speech like Major General Jones would—but his mind was blank. “I know that there’s nothing we as a team can’t solve, even if we’re not all together.”
The group remained hushed. Getting back together was the easy part. Now they were facing Jolly Rogers, the real threat.
“Well, time’s ticking,” said Dale. “Let’s do this.”
Dale nodded to his brother, Waffles, who took down a brightly colored Feather Duster 3 poster from the wall. He laid it out on the desk, leaving its blank white side facing up.
“Operation Shark Salvage and Condiment Cleanup is now officially under way,” said Waffles, who uncapped an ostrich-shaped marker from Weo’s desk. “We’ve got to get our friends back.”
He drew a tiny shark in the upper right corner.
“And stop Jolly and her shark before it’s too late,” added Biggs.
Neil put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Right,” said Dale. “A good plan always starts with a list of assets.”
“Copy that,” said Waffles. Across the top of the page he wrote Things We Have, underlining it for good measure.
“So, what do we have?” said Dale.
“I have about three thousand stuffed ostrich toys,” said Weo. “And an entire shipment of defective ostrich visors, if that helps.”
Waffles wrote Ostriches?
“I have my science-fair project. Would magnets help?” JP said.
“Definitely,” said Neil.
“I have about eight uneaten chicken nuggets from the airport food court,” said Yuri. “And seven different kinds of role-playing game dice.”
Waffles continued to add items to the list.
“Whilst my saber is being sharpened, I am without a weapon,” said Riley. “But I am clothed in a skin of metal.”
Waffles began to write but paused.
“Chain mail, my lords and ladies.”
“We have our vests,” said Waffles, gesturing to his black puffy vest that was peppered with paint. “Tear resistant. Fashionable.”
“Oh, and my lasso. Can’t leave home without it,” said Dale.
The list was getting longer, but it read more like the lost and found from Reboot Robiskie’s convention.
“Let’s find a way to call Jolly. There’s got to be a way we can reason with her,” said Biggs.
“Working on it,” said Weo. Yuri stepped next to him to help survey the issue.
“Until then, let me add to the list. I’ve got an almost-empty packet of red Singapore goo,” said Biggs. Waffles slowly printed out the word “goo?”
“Wait,” said Neil. He focused on a spot on the floor, processing something in his head.
“What is it?” asked Sam.
“Robot poodle.”
“Is that like a comic book? Or a superhero I’m unaware of?” asked Waffles, pausing his marker before continuing with the addition.
“None of those things—just your old-fashioned real robot poodle,” Neil said. “I met a girl named Marla at a science fair thing a while ago who was supposed to win a meeting with Reboot Robiskie. Instead, I have a hunch Jolly hijacked her prize-winning invention. She’s been getting kids to do everything for her.”
“And you have it on you?” asked Yuri, looking at Neil’s normal-looking pants pockets.
“No, Jolly has it. But I bet I know exactly where it is,” Neil answered. “And it has the ability to disable any electronics in the area.”
“Robot poodle!” Waffles shouted, writing it down.
“Maybe we can try to stop the sharks from getting eaten,” said Biggs. “Like dilute that ketchup or something.”
“Nothing a few thousand ostrich toys can’t suck up,” said Weo.
Neil was getting excited. This was beginning to sound like, well, a plan.
“There’s just one little problem, guys,” said Harris. “The boat’s getting a tune-up. And we can’t fly a jet to a spot in the ocean.”
“Um, helicopter?” said Sam, pointing toward the machine outside. On the poster Waffles wrote CHOPPER!!!
“I don’t know if we’ll be able to get far,” Harris said. “We used up a good amount of fuel, and our next shipment doesn’t ge
t in for a few days.”
The group hushed, deep in thought.
“We’re in luck,” said Neil with a proud smile. “We’ve got a guy.”
“I DIDDDDNN’T KNOW BOATTTS WENT THISSSS FASSSTTT,” Neil yelled to Reboot Robiskie. Reboot sat at the helm of his yacht in his uniform of loose-fitting linen. Despite their tremendous speed, his sunglasses stayed firmly planted on the top of his head.
Neil occupied the chair next to him, while most of his friends were wedged into the couches on the ship’s lower decks. They shared a look of shock that they were actually on Reboot’s yacht. Candy would have to wait for later, unfortunately.
“WeoOOo, do you co-py-py?” said Neil in a radio receiver.
“Roger that, Neil,” said Weo. He’d offered to stay at the warehouse, serving as the team’s home base. He’d been able to send a message to Reboot through his site’s servers, and now they were talking through the high-tech radios on Reboot’s ship. None of his technology had been affected by whatever Jolly had done.
“Ten-fourrrrr,” clacked Neil. He studied the endless ocean as the boat headed east. The night was settling, and bright stars began to glow overhead.
“Do you know Jolololollly?” Corinne asked Reboot, who sat on Neil’s other side.
Reboot shook his head no and continued to focus on the water ahead. He’d turned off his outboard lights to cruise in total darkness.
Jolly still had no clue they were coming for her. Using coordinates that Weo had estimated from the ketchup spill, plus Reboot’s cloaking technology, the team was hoping for a surprise visit.
“Straight ahead,” said Reboot. He craned his neck forward, looking into the open water.
“What is it?” Neil asked as the boat began to slow. He figured they must’ve been going a million knots per hour, minimum.
Ahead of the boat, Neil could see the nose of a capsized ship sticking out of the water. On its side was a picture of an animal Neil would never forget: a krill. Neil could see an endless stream of fins headed toward the damaged hull of the boat.
“That thing’s gonna bring a million sharks right to it,” said Neil.
The radio in Neil’s hand began to crackle to life.
“What was that, Weo? Static on my end.”
The radio popped a few times more before a voice came through clearly.
“Good evening, Neil,” it said. It was certainly not Weo, but rather the shrill voice of Jolly Rogers the Third.
“You’ll be interested to know the first one thousand sharks have been deposited at the new Rogers Ketchup processing facility,” she said. “And we’re just getting started.”
Neil’s stomach twisted.
“Trevor, can you hear me?” screamed Neil into the radio. “Trevor, if you can, stop. You’ve got to stop.”
Neil could hear Jolly laugh, with the sound of her caged birds squawking in the background.
“Oh, Neil, I think Trevor is quite happy here,” she said. “He’s become a better pilot than you. Looks like he just needed you out of the way.”
“Easy,” said Neil. “Trevor knows what we think of him.”
“Yeah, and it’s not much, from my understanding,” said Jolly. “Trevor and all your Jasons work for me now.”
Reboot cut the engines, allowing his ship to coast over the dark water.
“This radio broadcast tells me you may be getting a few ideas, Neil,” Jolly continued. “I will be clear: You got lucky once before. It won’t happen again. Don’t do anything . . . stupid.”
With a sizzle the radio went silent. Neil could hear his friends leaving the cabin below. Reboot looked at his top-of-the-line radar equipment, then pointed to the starboard side of the boat with two fingers.
“The shark.”
He could see the slightly crooked dorsal fin of Magda slowly break the surface. It rose ten feet out of the water, almost taunting Neil. Neil could see the fin had been reattached—affixed by huge strips of metal.
“Wow, she fixed it,” said Neil. “That fin has to be weakened. If we can tear it off once more, we’d send Magda spinning.”
“With our friends inside, though,” said Corinne.
“Well, we got out in an emergency escape pod,” Neil said. “There’s hopefully another.”
Hopefully.
“We can work on the shark. You need to get on that ship,” said Reboot.
He watched the huge fin of Magda dip below the water’s surface, then return again.
Where was Jolly’s yacht?
If they could find her ship, they would certainly find Jolly—she would never leave her fancy yacht now that she’d set her plan in motion.
“Reboot, do you see anything on the radar? Like another ship?” asked Neil.
He studied the green screen of the radar system, watching each pulse as it located nearby objects.
“Doesn’t look like anything,” Reboot said. “But let me try something else. With invisibility technology what it is, we’ve gotta stay one step ahead of everybody.”
Oh, believe me, I know.
“There you are,” said Reboot at the screen. Neil peered over to see the outline of Jolly’s unconventional-looking ship. “She must have some sort of active camouflage. Her shark’s still cruising around, though.”
Reboot restarted the boat and made his way toward the blinking beacon.
Neil could see Magda swishing through packs of wriggling sharks. With a creak, its jaws opened wide. A school of sharks was sucked into the holding tank of its stomach. Neil shuddered to think of how many it had already captured.
“I’ll get you to her boat,” said Reboot, who was still in his comfy white captain’s chair. “Then we can work on getting these sharks out of here.”
Suddenly, Jolly’s yacht was visible no more than fifty yards ahead.
“Heads up, two people on guard,” whispered Corinne.
Pierre and Fabien sat on either side of Jolly’s ship. They carried huge spotlights, along with big metal crossbows.
“This will have to be quick,” said Reboot softly, studying the ship ahead. The bubble of invisibility was large, probably enough to give Magda freedom to roam before depositing its most recent shark payload. “I’m not sure if we can get close undetected.”
“I wish you could just swim there—that’d be easiest,” said Corinne.
“Right, swim through an ocean of sharks,” said Neil. “That should go well.”
He paused to think about Jolly’s boat itself.
“That’s not half bad, though. What if we just went through them?” said Neil. “Jolly’s boat is pretty weird. It’s two pontoons with a fancy dining room connecting them. There’s space to drive through.”
Reboot’s eyes narrowed.
“They’d hear and see our ship. It has to be totally silent,” he said. “We could use the small emergency ship we’ve got, but even then that’d be too loud. And you’d have to be crazy to just have a piece of plastic between you and sharks.”
Neil smiled. For his friends, and animals everywhere, he knew he would have to be that crazy.
“Waffles!”
The boy appeared from the deck below, his lips covered in a large amount of Singapore goo.
“We still have that list?”
Waffles nodded and ducked back inside. He returned with a rolled-up ostrich poster.
“Reboot, Wifi, let’s get that plastic boat.”
“MUSTARD ME, PEOPLE,” NEIL SAID.
Neil twirled in a circle as his friends, along with Reboot, splattered him with a variety of mustard taken from all across the globe. Having a well-stocked fridge was coming in handy.
“All right, everybody, I think that’s good,” Neil said to his team, spitting yellow glop from his mouth. “I hope this even works. . . .”
“Just to be safe,” said Waffles, squirting a bit more mustard for good measure. “And don’t worry, this logic holds up. If the sharks love this ketchup, they’ll hate mustard. I know it.”
“I just w
ouldn’t fall in,” said Wifi Whitner, who was with the crew downstairs.
Neil got into the same tiny raft that had dropped him off outside Biggs’s house. He looked toward his destination. Even from far away, Jolly’s yacht looked much bigger than he remembered.
JP cautiously stepped onto the small boat, lugging potatoes from Reboot’s kitchen. He secured them at the front of the craft, quickly plugging in the blue spiral wires of his magnets. He leaned down and aimed the magnet’s pull toward a corner of Jolly’s boat.
“These will be strong enough to pull you toward her ship,” explained JP. “No motor. No sound.” He gave Neil a salute and climbed back aboard Reboot’s ship.
Neil wore Dale’s paintball vest, which was then covered with Riley’s chain mail. All of it was now dripping with pungent yellowish mustard, as it was decided by the group that it was the best shark repellent.
He turned back to his friends, who were on the deck. “You guys try to soak up that ketchup,” he said. “I’ll take care of Jolly and Magda.”
“And remember to let the wrist do the work,” yelled Dale, making a lasso motion. Neil looked at the lasso in his hands. When he was close enough, he’d rope himself in to Jolly’s ship and quietly sneak aboard. Well, as quietly as one could wearing chain mail dipped in hot dog toppings.
“I’ll radio once I’ve stopped her,” Neil said. “Good luck, guys—we can do this.”
“Aye, aye, Captain Andertol,” said Biggs with a salute. He gave Neil a push, giving him distance from Reboot’s ship.
With a tiny buzz the magnets came to life, and Neil was jerked toward Jolly and her henchmen. As the moon shone on the water, Neil could see and hear sharks in every direction. His heart pounded as he felt them bump into his boat.
“OK, my hungry friends, I’m here to help you. Let’s be cool,” Neil said. “And if I make it out of this, I promise to eat only mustard sandwiches from here on out.”
PIERRE AND FABIEN WERE POSTED ON THE TOP OF JOLLY’S ship, shining spotlights out into the sea’s rolling waves. Neil knew he would be done for with a single arrow from one of their crossbows. He lay flat on the floor of the boat, his face inches from the mouths of ketchup-hungry sharks.
