Against All Odds

by Natale Ghent

  Squeak produced his telescope. “They seem to be collecting the gas.”

  “What for?” Boney asked.

  “I don’t know. But we’d better figure it out soon,” Squeak said. “Itchy’s nearly reached the mouth of the chute.”

  Itchy staggered up the last few steps on the stairs. He clomped in a trance across the catwalk, holding his package of red licorice in front of him. When he reached the opening of the chute, he stopped. The other clones began to bottleneck behind him, bumping against each other.

  “What’s he doing?” Boney hissed.

  Squeak pushed on the bridge of his goggles. “He’s probably having second thoughts about giving the blob his licorice. He’s fighting the mind control because he wants to keep the candy for himself. You know he’s always had difficulty sharing.”

  “He’s going to have some serious difficulty if he doesn’t move soon.”

  The clones on the stairs looked around in confusion. The blob started slobbering violently when the cannonballs of food stopped coming.

  Boney groaned. “Drop the licorice in the chute, Itchy.”

  But Itchy just stood there, motionless. Until an alarm sounded, blaring through the room. Lights started to flash, and the blob began to screech and roar, banging its tail violently on the floor. The clones panicked, breaking ranks and moving erratically through the room. The alarm continued to blast as a row of small doors along the periphery of the room whooshed open and dozens of small grey aliens came rushing out. They were wearing blue overalls and what appeared to be silver rubber boots. Their heads were pointed, and their huge black eyes were slanted upward. And they looked very upset.

  “Third-level Greys!” Sam exclaimed.

  “What are third-level Greys?” Boney asked.

  “Drones,” she said. “They must be the ones harvesting the noxious gases from the blob. They were alerted by that alarm.”

  Boney clenched his jaw. “We’re really in a mess now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  BATTLE OF THE CLONES

  The alarm continued to sound as the little grey men in blue overalls scattered throughout the room. A group of them scuttled over to where the blob sat, carrying silver buckets and long spoons of some sort. They began waving and jumping in front of the creature’s enraged face, and then they attempted to appease the beast by flinging huge spoonfuls of goop from the buckets into its mouth. But their aim was terrible and they kept missing, launching gobs of glop over the beast’s head or misfiring completely and sending the goop onto the floor at their feet. This served to infuriate the creature further, and it began howling and pounding more feverishly than before. The little men tried to dodge the creature’s tail, but they were knocked off their feet and gobbled up along with their goop buckets and spoons. Another group of little grey men rushed to take their place, carrying more buckets of glop and even longer spoons, only to slip on the goopy floor and succumb to the same fate as their alien colleagues.

  “How horrible,” Sam groaned, clutching her stomach.

  Boney winced. “What a way to go …”

  “They’re obviously expendable,” Squeak said.

  The entire time this was going on, the rest of the little grey men were trying to wrangle the disoriented clones, herding them like frightened turkeys into groups against the wall. Several of the workers stormed the stairs to unblock the clog that Itchy and his licorice had caused.

  “We have to get Itchy out of there,” Boney said. “Somebody, do something!”

  Sam pulled the Disruptor from her bag and depressed the switch. A huge wave exploded from the device, radiating like a nuclear blast through the room. It hit the clones and the little grey men and the blob sitting on its seat. Instantly, the clones became zombies, wandering and meeping and bumping into each other. The little grey men seemed perplexed as they watched the clones, trying to figure out what had just happened. The blob yawned a huge slimy yawn and blinked its bulging yellow eyes at a mystified group of grey men who stood beneath the flashing lights of the alarm, still holding their buckets and spoons at the ready. Itchy swayed on the catwalk in front of the chute, his knees buckling slightly.

  “It worked,” Boney softly cheered. He was just about to congratulate Sam when Itchy jerked with a kind of spasm and dropped the package of licorice into the chute. There was a loud clunk, and the machine spewed black smoke as it belched out the licorice, package and all, right into the face of the blob. Yowling with surprise, the creature began pounding and screaming once again. The clones came back to life and started marching maniacally around the room, the little grey men desperately trying to control them. The group of workers on the stairs rushed toward Itchy.

  “Push the Disruptor button again!” Boney yelled.

  Sam pushed the button, sending another wave through the room. But this time it did nothing, bouncing harmlessly off the walls. Sam looked helplessly at Boney and Squeak. “I guess it doesn’t have the same effect twice in a row.”

  Boney grabbed the device and began frantically pushing the button over and over. Squeak pried the Disruptor from Boney’s hands. “It won’t work!”

  Boney jumped to his feet. “Well, I’m not going to just stand here and watch Itchy get eaten by that creature!” He rushed toward the stairs that led up to the chute.

  “Oh dear …” Squeak moaned. “This is awful.”

  Boney launched himself up the stairs, pushing and shoving past the befuddled clones. As he ran, Henry and Tiger squawked and hissed in their slings, pecking and scratching any clones that got too close. Some of the clones were so surprised by the attack that they simply flipped like manikins over the railing, landing in a heap on the floor. Across the room, little grey men stood in shock, chattering and pointing at the spectacle being played out before them.

  Boney reached the top of the stairs and grabbed Itchy, who began shouting in terror, his eyes empty and lifeless.

  “Itchy, it’s me!” Boney yelled in his face.

  But Itchy just kept hollering like a startled sleepwalker. Boney shook his friend with all his might. Itchy howled back like a madman, his head bobbling around on his neck like a dust mop. When he wouldn’t stop shouting, Boney raised his hand and slapped Itchy sharply across the face.

  “Ow!” Itchy yelped. He rubbed his cheek with his hand. “What’d you hit me for?”

  Boney placed the sling holding Henry over Itchy’s shoulders. “We have to get out of here. The clones are going to get us.”

  “Clones!” Itchy started hollering all over again.

  Boney grabbed his arm and dragged him down the stairs. “Come on!”

  General mayhem ensued as clones marched, the blob screeched, and workers scampered around, unsure of what to do. This helped Boney and Itchy to escape undetected, and they were almost at the bottom of the stairs when one of the little grey men came to his senses. Extending his skinny grey finger, he pressed a button on the wall of the ship.

  A whistle shrilled, jerking the clones to attention. Their heads turned, hundreds of vacant eyes trained on Boney and Itchy. The boys stood, petrified.

  “The clones are going to attack!” Sam cried.

  The clones mobilized, converging on the two boys from the top and bottom of the stairs.

  “What are we going to do?” Itchy wailed.

  “Jump!” Boney said.

  The two boys scissored over the railing and landed with a thump on the floor, a wall of angry clones staring back at them. The clones took a unified step forward. Boney and Itchy stepped back. Henry raised his comb, ruffling his feathers in warning. Tiger puffed up his fur and hissed, his ears pressed flat against his head.

  Sam turned to Squeak. “We have to help them.” She sprang from behind the wall to stand beside Boney and Itchy.

  “Wait for me!” Squeak called, running after her.

  The four friends formed a circle, standing back to back for greater protection.

  “This could be the end,” Boney said over his shoulder. “It’s bee
n nice knowing you.”

  Itchy’s bottom lip began to quiver. “Please don’t say that. There’s so much food I want to eat.”

  “I’ll never complain about my aunt’s cooking again,” Boney vowed.

  “What will my dad do without me?” Squeak whistled through the gap in his teeth.

  Itchy moaned. “I’m only twelve. I’m too young to die!”

  “We’re not going to die,” Sam said. “We have to stay positive.”

  “Oh, sure,” Itchy blubbered. “That’s easy for you to say.”

  The clones growled, surging forward. The Odds raised their fists, Itchy’s knobby knees knocking together.

  Sam assumed a ninja pose. “We’re not going down without a fight!” She rushed the clones, leaping through the air. With one swift kick, she flattened three clones, karate-chopping two more to the floor before her feet even hit the ground. Fluffy jumped from his sling and landed on the floundering clones, spitting and scratching until their faces were covered in welts. The clones staggered to their feet, blind and stumbling, until they crashed together, collapsing in a heap like the poles of a cheap tent. The little grey men dissolved into a confused panic, running around the room clutching their heads as Sam felled clones with her lethal kicks.

  “Wow!” Squeak said. “She’s totally awesome!”

  But despite Sam’s efforts, the clones kept coming. With each one defeated, five more took its place. In a flurry of punches and roundhouse kicks, Sam scattered them like bowling pins. Fluffy finished them off, levelling clones in a blur of flying claws.

  “Come on!” Boney yelled. “Sam needs us!”

  “She seems to be doing fine by herself,” Itchy quavered.

  Squeak bolted forward, doubling over and hollering at the top of his lungs. He rushed the clones, driving one in the stomach with his head, like a battering ram. The clone reeled back, hitting the clones behind it, so that they fell in a row like dominoes, right into the blob’s slimy mouth. The creature greedily gobbled them up and convulsed as it swelled several times in size before releasing a floor-shaking burp.

  A group of grey men began waving frenetically, attempting to direct the clones away from the blob. But the clones crashed through them, knocking little grey men into the blob’s ravenous mouth. Boney shouted encouragement. “Keep going, Squeak! You’re taking them out like flies!”

  Boney rushed into the fray, punching and shoving the clones into the mouth of the beast. Itchy stood where he was, his pale fists shaking in the air. A clone trained its eyes on him and advanced, growling and gnashing.

  “Get away from me!” Itchy shrieked, slapping hysterically at the clone.

  The clone slapped back, until both of them were shrieking and slapping like maniacs. Henry leaped from his sling and attacked, his rooster spurs slicing the air, his wings beating the clone about the head as he pecked at its eyes. The clone covered its face, lurching backward. Boney shoved it toward the blob, which slobbered it down with a loud smack.

  The four friends fought like Spartans, their kittens scratching and snarling along with them, Henry flapping and pecking at Itchy’s side. They threw more and more clones at the blob, the creature’s big yellow eyes nearly popping from its head as it swallowed and convulsed and expanded. The room reeked with green gas, the creature farting and burping and gurgling.

  Then all at once there was a deafening explosion, like the sound of a Zeppelin hitting a blowtorch. The room shook as steaming green guck flew through the air and a giant mushroom cloud of foul gas roiled to the ceiling. Green goo splattered everywhere, sliming the walls and clones and little grey men. It showered down on the kittens and the rooster and on the four friends, who gaped at each other in shock.

  “The blob blew up!” Boney shouted, choking on the acrid gas.

  Sam, Squeak, and Itchy coughed and sputtered, gasping for air. Squeak used his fingers to squeegee the slime from his goggles so he could get a better look at the carnage.

  In the middle of the room, where the blob once sat, was a smoking pile of green slime. The clones shuffled through the sludge, coughing and meeping, while the little grey men wrung their hands. Squeak poked the heap of steaming goop with the toe of his combat boot. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  “Neither have I,” Sam said. She pulled a tongue depressor and a small plastic bottle from her bag and took a sample of the sludge, the green slime jiggling like rancid Jell-O.

  Itchy flinched. “That’s disgusting.” But his face lit up as he licked the slime from his lips. “Hey! This green glop tastes pretty good. It’s really sweet.”

  Boney winced. “Now that is truly disgusting.”

  Henry shook his feathers. The kittens preened the goop from their fur. From somewhere in the room the whistle sounded again, followed by a stream of weird clicks and bleeps. The fans in the ceiling whirred to life, sucking the gas into the vents. A door mysteriously opened in the wall and the clones began marching in a line from the room. Another door appeared, and the little grey men scurried away, leaving the four friends standing alone in a sea of steaming goop. The doors zipped shut and there was an eerie silence.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  DOUBLE TROUBLE

  Boney looked around the room. “What’s happening now?”

  “Who cares?” Itchy said. “I’m not standing around to find out. Let’s get out of here.” He grabbed Henry, stuffed him into the sling, and bolted toward the door, his skinny legs flailing.

  “Itchy, wait!” Boney called after him. “You have no idea where you’re going.” He picked up Tiger and placed him in his sling before chasing after his friend.

  Squeak and Sam picked up their kittens and did the same. They skidded through the green slime as they shot out the door, only to find Boney and Itchy staring, bewildered, down the corridor.

  “Do you remember which way we came?” Boney asked.

  “Veer left,” Sam said.

  The four friends veered left and ran down the corridor until they reached a fork in the hallway.

  Boney growled in frustration. “Now what?”

  Squeak produced the electro-node-a-metre and handed it to Sam.

  “Hey, where’d you find it?” Sam said.

  Squeak smiled. “You dropped it on your way into the ship.”

  Sam threw her arms around Squeak, who instantly blushed.

  Boney stepped between them. “I hate to interrupt, but could we hurry, please?”

  Sam flipped the switch on the wandlike device. The arms rose and began slowly turning, the little lights glowing.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Itchy moaned.

  “It’ll only take a second,” Sam promised, staring at the lights. “Go left,” she finally said.

  Itchy dashed to the left and ran smack into Boney and Squeak.

  “Hey! How’d you get in front of me?” he said.

  But then Boney and Squeak came running around the corner and slammed right into Itchy. Itchy stood, his head cranking back and forth between the two sets of identical friends — one in camouflage, the other in the same T-shirts and jeans the boys were wearing the day of the test flight at Starky Hill. Itchy stepped back in shock. “Tell me I’m having a nightmare.”

  Boney did a double-take. “What the heck is this?”

  The four friends stared in awe at this new set of clones. The clones walked toward Boney and Squeak, until the two boys appeared to be looking in the mirror. The kittens hissed as the clones gazed at the Odds with the disaffected curiosity of a velociraptor.

  Sam whipped a magnifying glass from her knapsack and began examining the clones. “Just as I suspected. The aliens are raising the stakes. These clones seem more advanced than the Itchys.”

  Itchy scratched his bramble-bush hair. “What do you mean ‘more advanced’?”

  “They likely have rudimentary speech capability,” Sam explained. “Nothing too complex. Probably more like a tape recorder than anything else.”

  “Fascinating,”
Squeak said.

  “Fascinating,” his clone repeated in the exact same manner.

  “He sounds just like you!” Boney exclaimed.

  “He sounds just like you!” Boney’s clone said.

  Sam peered into the clone’s ear. “I imagine they’re building a database of sound bites by repeating your words so they can interact more successfully with real people.”

  Squeak frowned thoughtfully. “Do you think they simply parrot everything we say, or will they be capable of independent thought eventually?”

  His clone frowned, repeating the question identically.

  “I don’t know,” Sam said.

  Squeak adjusted his goggles. His clone did the same.

  “Do you think we’re in any danger?” Squeak asked.

  “Do you think we’re in any danger?” his clone said.

  Sam sniffed the clone’s skin. “I don’t think so … as long as we don’t do anything stupid …”

  “What’s the square root of five million and six?” Squeak suddenly asked his clone.

  “What’s the square root of five million and six?” the clone asked back.

  Itchy smacked himself on the forehead. “That’s all we need—two of you guys.”

  “This is really creepy,” Boney said.

  “This is really creepy,” his clone repeated.

  “Actually, it’s incredibly annoying,” Boney said.

  “Actually, it’s incredibly annoying,” his clone repeated.

  “Hey, stop that,” Boney snapped.

  “Hey, stop that,” the clone snapped back.

  “Stop repeating what I say,” Boney demanded.

  “Stop repeating what I say,” the clone demanded back.

  Boney gritted his teeth. “I don’t like people copying me.”

  “I don’t like people copying me,” the clone said. Boney stuck his tongue out. The clone retaliated. “You’re a stupid meathead!” Boney snarled. “You’re a stupid meathead!” the clone snarled back.

  “I know you are, but what am I?” Boney taunted. “I know you are, but what am I?” the clone taunted back.