by Paul Aertker
Next the men grabbed Mike and shoved him in with the others. As soon the hairy guys had boarded the bus, a strange sulfur smell began to drift in the air.
Moments later, smoke billowed out from the luggage compartment. Within a few seconds a thick gray cloud covered the entire area, completely hiding the bus.
The Curukian girls turned and faced the smoke, mesmerized.
A split second later a bald-headed boy wearing khakis and a golf shirt cut through the fog. Using a wooden cane, Hervé Piveyfinaus limped past the dazed Curukian girls and straight up to Astrid.
“Hervé?” she asked. “You’re really here?”
“But of course,” Hervé said.
AN OLD FRIEND
Hervé Piveyfinaus wafted the smoke away and gave Astrid a kiss on both cheeks. He went around to the group and shook hands with the others.
“Don’t worry about Bleach and her Curukian clique,” said Hervé with a thick French accent. “They are in a trance.”
“What do you mean?” Travis asked, pointing at the Curukian girls. “A trance?”
“They hate fire,” Hervé said. “Smoke freezes their minds. It was part of their original brainwashing ceremony.”
Lucas glanced over at the Curukian girls. They were just standing there like statues facing the smoke, their hands raised to the sky. The girls were frozen by fire.
“We must hurry,” Hervé said. “Deception for Bleach and her girls only lasts a short time.” He turned and pointed with his cane. “If you would, please. Follow me and walk this way.”
“What about Mike and the other boys?” Lucas asked.
“Save yourself first,” Hervé said. “Mike and his team are wounded and will only slow you down.”
The French kid limped past the almost lifeless girls who seemed unaware that anything was going on. The New Resistance kids did as they were told and followed Hervé into the cloud of smoke.
Hervé led the New Resistance kids down the street and away from the bus. They turned left and soon crossed a promenade filled with trees and sculptures, and on the other side Hervé stopped them.
“The smoke will clear soon,” he said, “and Bleach and her girls will wake up, and they will hunt us down.”
As fast as they could, Hervé and the New Resistance kids took off running through the streets of Barcelona.
LA RAMBLA
A zoo is normally a refuge for animals, but today the Barcelona Zoo became a refuge for children.
When Hervé and the New Resistance kids got to the entrance, Astrid and the girls went straight to the booth to buy tickets.
The boys huddled in the shade of a plane tree. The sudden return of the French boy was clearly at the top of everyone’s mind.
“Hervé,” Jackknife said. “What’s your deal? You just appear and disappear?”
“Stealth is my strength,” Hervé said. “You must believe me. I am here to help.”
“Did someone give you a note this morning?” Lucas asked.
Hervé said, “Andrés gave me a picture he had taken of a message from Ching Ching to Ms. Günerro.”
“What did it say?” Travis asked.
“It made no sense,” Hervé said. “I delivered it to Mr. Chapman at your hotel.”
“You were at our hotel today?” Jackknife asked.
“Yes,” Hervé said. “The Globe Hotel was crazy. The police were talking to Charles Magnus who was crying like a baby. And that’s how I knew to find you at the beach.”
The boys paused a moment and digested the news. Travis still seemed skeptical.
“What are you really doing here?” Travis asked.
Hervé asked, “Do you remember when I told you that brainwashing doesn’t always work?”
“I certainly do,” Jackknife said.
“Since the Good Company is losing so much money,” Hervé explained, “no one is getting re-brainwashed. Now everyone wants to be free.”
“That’s all anyone wants,” Alister said as he straightened his bow tie.
“What about those girls?” Travis asked. “The one named Bleach.”
“Ms. T made her terrible,” Hervé said. “But smoke and fire were used in their brainwashing ceremonies as a form of hypnosis. It is a weakness for these girls.”
Alister asked, “Did you start a fire back there at the bus?”
“Smoke bomb,” Hervé said. “Hundreds of them from the Good factory in China where my father was ... well ...”
Terry turned and pointed. “They’re here.”
The Good Company bus they had just run away from was pulling into the zoo parking lot.
Lucas glanced at the slow ticket line. He calculated the time and distance, and it was clear Bleach would arrive before Astrid got tickets.
“We’ve got no time,” Lucas said, racing toward the zoo entrance.
“Hurry!” Terry yelled to the girls in line.
Astrid, Kerala, and Nalini dropped out of line and sprinted to the entrance. One by one the kids hurdled the turnstiles and entered the park.
Just on the inside a policeman folded his arms and stared them down.
The Good Company bus pulled up to the curb, and the door opened. A clump of Curukian girls marched in a line straight for the zoo entrance.
The policeman approached Lucas.
Lucas said to him in Spanish, “Those girls are vegetarians; they are coming here to release all the animals.”
“¿Verdad?” the policeman asked.
“True,” said Alister.
The policeman blew his whistle, and he was joined by two more officers. The cops stopped the vegetarians at the gate.
The New Resistance kids didn’t stay around to see how things played out for the Curukian girls.
Like an international cross-country running team they jogged together into the zoo.
Peacocks fluttered out of their way. They sped around the cages of lions, hippo baths, and giraffe exhibits. They didn’t stop until Jackknife spotted a bank of vending machines.
“I’m thirsty and starving,” he said.
Nalini popped him on the head. “You have worms in your stomach.”
“I have nothing in my stomach,” Jackknife said. “That’s why I’m hungry.”
They kept moving through the crowd of people watching monkeys swing from ropes. Jackknife took the lead, and the others fell in line. They left the zoo and sprinted down a gravel path lined with trees and flowers. Finally, they exited the park through a pair of giant wrought-iron gates and stepped back into the busy city.
The streets were jam-packed with tourists and taxis, and one big black bus.
“They’re back!” Terry said.
“This way,” Lucas said, recalibrating the map in his head.
They crossed Picasso Street, where nearly every building and van had been tagged with graffiti. Lucas actually thought it looked pretty cool, but they didn’t dare stop.
In the next block the air smelled sweet, and soon they found themselves standing in front of the Museum of Chocolate.
“Let’s go here,” Jackknife said. “I love chocolate.”
“Everyone loves chocolate,” Hervé said as he stopped and leaned on his cane.
“Lucas,” Nalini said. “Lead.”
“I remember,” Lucas said, “seeing on a map that there’s a Vespa shop just around the corner.”
“Show us the way,” said Travis.
“Bus!” Terry said. “Nine o’clock.”
The group stopped and huddled around Hervé for a second.
“How far to the hotel, Lucas?” Kerala asked.
“On foot,” he said, “probably an hour, maybe an hour and a half if we have to zigzag our way back through these tiny streets.”
“Perfect,” said Nalini. “A bus can’t make it through all these streets.”
“Great idea,” Lucas said as he turned the other way.
They moved through the neighborhood, down streets so narrow that a Smart car couldn’t squeeze through. They zipp
ed past the Picasso Museum, digging deeper into a maze of cobblestone lanes, cafés, card shops, and cathedrals. In a few minutes they crossed the Plaça Reial, the royal plaza, where it must have been near two o’clock in the afternoon, since the waiters at the outdoor restaurants were clearing the tables from lunch.
Jackknife drooled at a table filled with half-eaten plates of sausage, bread, and tomatoes. Nalini and Kerala pushed him along.
In a few minutes they came to the most famous street in all of Barcelona.
La Rambla.
The Spanish poet Garcia Lorca said that La Rambla was “the only street in the world which I wish would never end.”
For Lucas and friends, it was a dead end. The wide avenue was packed with tourists, shoppers, pickpockets, and a dozen girls marching straight at them. The Curukians came from everywhere.
“Where’s Hervé?” Travis asked.
They looked around.
“He’s gone,” Astrid said.
Bleach and her clique moved closer.
Behind Lucas there was a space between two buildings. It was the only way out. The kids turned sideways and shimmied down the narrow passage. The Curukian girls squeezed in and followed.
When Lucas got to the end of the alley, a bus door opened in his face.
The driver said, “All aboard.”
TOURISTS TOUR
With the New Resistance kids on board, the Good Company bus toured through the city.
Bleach and the Curukian girls sat up front, and the hairy goons took the backseats.
Lucas sat in the middle row next to Jackknife. He lay his head on the window and let the air conditioning blow through his hair and dry his sweat.
“Where do you think we’re going?” Jackknife asked.
Astrid was sitting right behind them. “Knowing what I know about Ms. Günerro,” she said, “there’s only one place she would be.”
“What do you mean?” Alister asked.
“Everything is opposite with this lady,” Astrid explained. “She doesn’t treat anything or anyone with respect. So to me, she would go to the last place you would think an evil person would go.”
“Where?” Terry asked from across the aisle.
“Well,” Lucas said, “we’re headed northwest, away from the water.”
“She’s going to be in church,” Travis said. “Isn’t she?”
“What!” Alister said. “Are we talking about the same person?”
“You weren’t there, Alister,” Astrid said. “But in Paris we found Ms. Günerro at the Notre Dame Cathedral dressed up as a priest.”
“What!” Alister said again.
“Astrid’s right,” Lucas said. “They’re taking us to the Sagrada Família.”
“What’s that?” Terry asked.
Kerala said, “The translation is ‘Sacred Family’ or ‘Holy Family.’”
“Meaning like, um, God?” Terry asked.
“It’s a church, dude,” Jackknife said. “Yes, meaning like, um, God.”
“It’s a massive place,” Travis explained, “that looks like a cathedral. And it is, in a good way, the freakiest-looking building you’ll ever see.”
“It’s still not even finished yet, is it?” Nalini asked.
“Construction was started in the 1880s,” Travis explained. “It’s the masterpiece of the famous architect Gaudí. I’m actually excited we’re going.”
“Travis,” Jackknife said. “We don’t need a history lesson about everything.”
“But,” Terry asked, “the church is not even done yet?”
“Not finished,” Nalini said.
“We might all be finished,” Astrid said, “if we don’t come up with something quick.”
In a short while the bus stopped next to the playground across the street from the world-famous Sagrada Família. The huge, hairy men and the Curukian girls escorted Lucas and the New Resistance kids off the bus and into the park.
The massive church rose up before them. The kids gawked as they walked. It was as big as a cathedral but with spires that looked like giant, drippy sand castles. Construction cranes screeched overhead looking as if they were a natural part of the church itself.
Lucas took inventory. Literally tons of construction material—scaffolding, elevators, and trucks.
Hundreds of tourists clustered in groups outside the church. Like teachers on a field trip, the men marched the kids to the front doors. The entranceway looked like someone had stuck statues into a giant candle of melted wax.
One of the men handed Bleach some tickets. “We’ll wait here,” he said.
Bleach and her Curukian girls sandwiched Lucas and friends as they entered the church.
The New Resistance kids looked up and down and spun around, bumping into one another as they marveled at the sheer size of the place. It was like being in a forest where the columns were giant trees that branched out.
People shuffled everywhere. Some tourists listened to headsets; others ambled around taking pictures and looking at guidebooks. From some corner of the church a woman sang, her voice filling the cavernous interior.
Lucas was particularly excited by the geometric shapes. There were double twisted columns, hyperboloids, and spiral staircases. It was the most wildly beautiful place he had ever seen.
Until ...
Until he saw Ms. Siba Günerro, standing with Goper and Ekki and six new Curukian girls with half-black, half-white hair.
SAGRADA FAMÍLIA
A dozen Curukian girls corralled Lucas and the New Resistance kids and pushed them into a circle with Ms. Günerro. A few tour groups shuffled past their circle, and as they did, Terry Hines slipped out and crawled under a pew.
“Well, well, well,” Ms. Günerro said to Lucas. “We meet again. In this beautiful church, no less. You do like the place?”
Lucas nodded. “It’s nice.”
“I’m hoping they let me play the organ,” she said. “What do you think?”
Astrid wasted no time in arguing with Ms. Günerro. “No one wants to hear you play anything. That’s what we think.”
Ms. Günerro asked, “Are you Lucas’s lawyer now?”
“No,” Astrid said. “I’m his sister. And his friend.”
Nalini stepped forward. “And so am I.”
“If I may?” Bleach asked.
Ms. Günerro said, “Go ahead.”
“I never let go of a question once I’ve asked it,” Bleach said. “And I’ve asked Lucas twice, and I still haven’t gotten an answer. So may I ask again?”
“Please,” Ms. Günerro said. “We’re in church. Ask until you receive an answer.”
Bleach turned to Lucas. “What is more valuable than priceless?”
“Don’t answer,” Astrid said. She turned to Ms. Günerro. “You know, you’re just not a good person. You should not even be in a church. It’s sacrilegious for you to even walk in here. Like when you were at Notre Dame and you had that ridiculous air-conditioned dress. You don’t have respect for anything. You don’t even know what is valuable.”
Ms. Günerro pursed her lips.
“On second thought,” Astrid continued, “maybe you should spend more time in a church. But what you really need to do is quit being such an awful person ruining other people’s lives just so your company can make even more money. What you need to do is—”
“What you need to do, young lady,” Ms. Günerro said, her voice frigid, “is close your mouth.”
Astrid’s shoulders dropped.
“Enough with the lawyer talk,” Ms. Günerro said. “We are only here to discuss one thing.”
Nalini stepped forward and took Astrid’s place. “Do tell us that one thing!” she said, acting as if she and Ms. Siba Günerro were best friends.
The Curukian girls’ ice-blue eyes locked on Nalini. Ms. Günerro shifted her focus.
Maybe Ms. Günerro is like the Curukian girls, Lucas thought. She, too, can only focus on one thing at a time.
“The one thing we want to
know,” Bleach explained, “is what is more valuable than priceless? That’s all we want to know!”
Kerala leaned in. “Who really wants to know?” she asked.
Death by Middle School had begun.
Again the girls’ eyes shifted, and Ms. Günerro’s, too.
“I got this one,” Ekki said. “Ching Ching has instructed Ms. Günerro to—”
Goper backhanded Ekki in the belly.
“Why do all the girls have to speak for Lucas? Is he hiding something?” Goper asked.
Travis, Jackknife, and Alister stepped forward.
“Isn’t priceless an absolute?” Travis asked. “Meaning that you can’t modify it with an adverb.”
Everyone’s eyes glazed over.
“It can’t be more priceless,” Jackknife said. “Can it?”
“That would be like ...” Alister said. “You know, it’s like saying ‘very unique’ or ‘completely destroyed.’”
The Curukian girls looked to Ms. Günerro.
“What my friends mean,” Travis said, “is more than priceless is actually impossible. You know! If it is price-less, then it doesn’t have a price, so you can’t have something that is more than not having a something.”
“It’s like ...” Alister added. “It’s like saying ‘the most infinity.’”
“Or like opposite day,” Jackknife said. “How do you know when is opposite day? If it’s opposite day, it could already be opposite of opposite, which would be very confusing.”
“I know what this is,” Bleach said, throwing her hands up in the air. “This is a bunch of Americans trying to avoid the question.”
“I’m no bloody American,” Alister said. “I’m Scottish, and I live in the Falklands!”
“I’m Indian,” Nalini said, “as in from India.”
“What?” Bleach asked. “Why do you speak English with a British accent?”
“Because the English colonized India.”
“Brazilian,” Jackknife deadpanned. “Thank you very much.”
“Enough!” Ms. Günerro said. “I’m frustrated yet again with a group of Benes brats.”
Bleach’s eyes pleaded with Lucas. “Just tell Ms. Günerro what the message means.”
“I know exactly what it means,” Lucas said. “And where the treasure is hidden.”
