by Bill Myers
He sighed in exasperation, threw back the covers, and marched over to his bedroom door.
Melissa, still in her pajamas, stood at the top of the stairs.
“What’s going on out there?” she yawned.
“Beats me,” he replied. “But whoever it is, I’m going to give them a piece of my mind!”
Melissa followed him downstairs to the door. As they got closer, they could hear their father’s voice coming from the front yard.
“I have no idea how they did it,’5 he said. “You’ll have to ask them.”
“Well, where are they?” someone asked. His voice sounded strangely familiar.
“I hope they’re upstairs still aslee—” But before Dad could finish his sentence, Sean opened the door.
“Here they are!” someone shouted.
Video lights came on, and the crowd that had gathered in the Hunters’ front yard cheered wildly.
An arm thrust a microphone in Sean’s face.
“Tell me, kids, how in the world did you ever grow flowers like these! They’re magnificent!”
When Sean’s eyes finally recovered from the explosion of light, he could see that the arm with the microphone was attached to . . . Rafael Ruelas!
“What flowers are you talking about?” Sean asked. “We didn’t do—”
“Sean, look!” Melissa gasped and pointed toward their father. Something leafy and colorful towered over his head. It was a gigantic petunia!
Her flowers, which had looked so weak and sickly the night before, had gotten well in a hurry.
Well?! That was an understatement. They had become the Arnold Schwarzenegger of petunias!
In one night, they had shot up six feet. Their petals measured two or three feet across.
As Sean and Melissa stood with their mouths hanging open, Mrs. Tubbs made her way out of the crowd. Her own mouth was twisted into a sneer. She meant it to be a smile, but it wasn’t quite working out that way.
“Congratulations,” she said, but she didn’t really sound like she meant it. She handed them a brass plaque. “You won first prize. You’re going to Washington, D.C.”
SATURDAY, 20:13 CST
Snzzzzz! Woooo! Snzzzzzz!
“I’ve never heard anybody snore that loud!” Sean whispered to Melissa, who sat across the aisle of the bus from him.
Melissa nodded as she continued playing her computer game.
Sean sighed and gently tried to move Mrs. Tubbs, who was sitting beside him, to the other side of her seat. It was no use. Her head fell back across his shoulder, and her snoring grew louder.
SNZZZZZZ! WOOO! SNZZZZZZ!
“I’m not sure I would’ve wanted first prize if I’d known she was going along as our chaperone,” Sean grumbled.
“Or that we were going to have to spend seventeen straight hours riding on a bus,” Melissa agreed. “I wonder where we are right now?”
Sean pulled the bus schedule out of his pocket and studied it. “I think we’re somewhere in the middle of Tennessee,” he said. “Or maybe it’s Minnesota. I can’t tell for sure.”
Mrs. Tubbs had stopped snoring for a moment. Now she was babbling in her sleep. “Candy? For me? Oh, Brad, you’re so romantic!”
“At least she’s having a good time,” Melissa laughed. She leaned forward to get a better look at her brother. “What’s that in your hair?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “What does it look like?”
“Grass,” she said.
Sean shrugged. “Probably just something the wind blew in.”
He pulled his comb out of his pocket and ran it through his hair. “There. That ought to take care of it.”
*
Back in the baggage compartment, the kids’ huge bloodhound, Slobs, lay patiently in her kennel. A little puddle of drool had collected on the floor in front of her, and a tiny river of the stuff trickled out of her cage and onto the bus floor.
Slobs, as you may know by now, was short for Slobbers, which was something she did a lot of. Something else she did a lot of was tracking criminals. That was why Sean had insisted the garden club let him and Melissa bring her to the nation’s capital. With her help, they just might be able to find that missing helicopter.
In the kennel next to Slobs slept Mrs. Tubbs’ fat cat, Precious. He looked like he had a smile on his face while he was sleeping, probably dreaming about turning into a lion and chasing all the dogs, including Slobs, out of his neighborhood.
Slobs might have been asleep, too, but who could fall asleep with that cat . . .
snzzz . . . wooo . . . snzzz!
. . . snoring away like that?
*
Mrs. Tubbs’ dream date with Brad Pitt was apparently over and she, too, had gone back to . . .
SNZZZZ! WOOO! SNZZZZing!
Sean sighed, fished his Walkman out of his bag, and put his earphones on. Maybe he could find some good music on the radio to drown out that awful racket. But instead of music, he tuned in to the news:
“And still no word on the location of the Navy’s supersonic helicopter, the Dragonfly, or of the spies who have stolen it. An angry President George Shrub met with his closest advisors today and demanded that everything possible be done to arrest the perpetrators and bring them to justice.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. President,” Sean said to himself. “Well catch those spies for you!”
“Level five! All right! I finally made it!” Melissa shouted. “Woo-hoo!”
She thrust her handheld videogame, Spy Guys, across the aisle and into her brother’s face. Sean’s record, which had lasted for three months, had fallen.
In her excitement, she shouted, “And the new champion is . . .”
Sean, of course, had his earphones on, so he couldn’t hear her. But the sudden movement in front of his face startled him.
“Whazzat!” He brought his hands up to protect himself and . . .
WHACK!
. . . hit the videogame hard enough to send it flying. It bounced off the ceiling and clattered to the floor.
Unfortunately, at that very moment, the bus was passing the biggest electrical power plant in the entire state of Tennessee . . . or was it Minnesota? Suddenly the videogame . . .
SSSSed
and
POP! POP! POPPed
Melissa cried, “What’s going on with my . . .”
SHAZAM!
A bright flash of light shot through the bus. Suddenly a glowing green “monster” stood in front, facing the passengers. (Actually, he looked more like a leprechaun than a monster, and he seemed just as surprised to be there as the passengers.)
“Jeremiah!” Sean and Melissa yelled at the same time.
Everybody else on the bus was yelling, too. But they weren’t yelling anyone’s name. They were just yelling. All except Mrs. Tubbs, who was still . . .
SNZZZS! WOOO! SNSZZZing!
Now, just in case you didn’t already know, Jeremiah stands for Johnson Electronic Reductive Entity Memory Inductive Assembly Housing. He is one of Doc’s first, best, and most troublesome inventions. He is also a creature made up entirely of electrical energy. Being made of electricity, Jeremiah can go anywhere there’s electrical current. He spends most of his time hanging out in Sean’s digital watch or in Melissa’s computer game. But when conditions are just right—or wrong, depending on your point of view—he can even appear in the “real” world. Sean and Melissa never know where he’s going to show up next, and sometimes neither does he!
Jeremiah seemed to be thinking up something to say. Finally he opened his mouth. “I want to hurt you!” he shouted over the screaming, which grew even louder. Passengers scrambled over each other in their hurry to get to the back of the bus—and away from the scary green, er, whatever-it-was.
“Did you hear that?” shouted an elderly lady with blue hair. “He said he wants to hurt us! Aaaaagggh!”
Of course, what Jeremiah really meant to say was, “I won’t hurt you,” but like everything el
se he said, it came out wrong. (Did I mention that he was involved in an explosion in a fortune-cookie factory? Ever since then, he’s recited mixed-up proverbs and he’s had trouble getting his words right.)
“I’m pleased to meet you!” Jeremiah shouted. (At least that’s what he meant to shout. What he actually said was, “I’m pleased to eat you!”)
The comment brought even more screaming!
Melissa grabbed her brother’s elbow. “Sean,” she cried, “who’s driving this bus?”
“The driver?”
“Oh yeah? Well, then, who’s that lying on the floor?”
“Oh no!” Sean yelled. “The driver’s fainted! Jeremiah, do something!”
But when Jeremiah saw the driver lying unconscious on the floor, he did the only sensible thing he could do. . . .
He fainted, too!
Sparks shot off of him as he collapsed to the floor in a glowing green heap. Then, with a buzzing sound, he disappeared, transported back to the world of amps and kilowatts. Unfortunately, there was still the little problem with the bus. It hit the . . .
THWACK!
. . . guardrail on the right-hand side of the road and began drifting back to the left where it . . .
K-WHACK!
. . . hit the other side!
Sean and Melissa staggered back and forth, trying to fight their way to the front so they could grab the steering wheel, until the bus . . .
KER-UNCH!
. . . crashed right through the guardrail!
The impact sent Sean and Melissa tumbling to the floor.
And it woke Mrs. Tubbs, who immediately began screaming, “Somebody stop them! They’re trying to kill us all!” She pushed a window open and frantically tried to climb out. But it was no use. The bus was moving too fast for her to jump. She’d just have to come back inside and take her chances.
That’s when she made another terrifying discovery.
She couldn’t get back inside! She was stuck halfway out the window!
The bus shot off the highway and bounced into a cornfield at sixty miles per hour.
Sean made a flying leap for the steering wheel . . .
WHOOOMP!
“Ow!” And just missed.
WHAP! WRAP! WHAP!
Stalks of corn slapped against the bus . . . and Mrs. Tubbs.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” she yelled as hard ears of unripe corn played bongo drums on her head and shoulders, until the bus . . .
KER-WHACK!
. . . smashed through a wall and into a barn, where a farmer was hard at work milking a cow.
Sean pulled himself into the driver’s seat just in time to see the panicked look on the farmer’s face.
HONK! HONK!
The man dropped his pail and jumped out of the way just in time as . . .
MOOOOOO!
. . . the frightened cow kicked the pail high into the air. It seemed to hang there for a long moment. Then it slowly began to turn as it fell down . . . down . . . down . . . and finally . . .
KER-SPLAT!
. . . landed upside down on Mrs. Tubbs’ head.
Milk ran down her face, dripped from her ears, and soaked her official Midvale Garden Club blouse. Finally she freed herself from the pail just as Sean stomped on the brakes.
EEEEEEEEEEE!
The tires locked as the big vehicle kicked up a cloud of dust, skidding through the barnyard.
“Nooooooooo!” Mrs. Tubbs screamed. Dust stuck to her wet face and hair. “What else can happen to me?” she cried.
She was about to find out!
Melissa had managed to get to her feet and was standing by Sean, trying to help him steer. But it was no use. There was no way to avoid . . .
KER-SMASH!
. . . that fence just ahead.
“Look!” Melissa shouted and pointed. “We’ve got to stop! Now!”
A canyon with a sheer drop lay straight ahead. If the bus went over the cliff, that would probably be the end of everyone on board.
“I’m doing everything I can!” Sean shouted.
“Turn the wheel!” Melissa shouted.
“It won’t turn!” Sean shouted back.
The cliff was fifty yards away and approaching fast. As far as everyone could tell, it looked like Bloodhounds, Inc., was about to go out with a bang!
3
YOU GHOSTS BE QUIET! WE’RE TRYING TO SLEEP HERE!
Death was forty yards away and closing fast!
“We’re slowing down!” Sean shouted.
“But we’re still going too fast!” Melissa yelled back. “We’ve got to turn the steering wheel!”
She grabbed hold of the wheel and again tried to help Sean turn it, but it was still no use.
Suddenly the kids felt another pair of hands on the wheel.
The driver had regained consciousness!
The three of them twisted the steering wheel to the right as hard as they could.
ERRRRR!
EEEEEE!
Somehow, at the very edge of that canyon, the bus turned.
Its tires screamed.
Its engine rattled and coughed.
And the big vehicle shuddered to a stop on the very edge of the yawning chasm.
Unfortunately . . .
“Yiiiiiiiiiii!”
. . . the sudden change of direction, coupled with the skidding stop, caused Mrs. Tubbs to shoot out of the vehicle.
Up, up, up she went!
Out, out, out over the cliff!
And down, down, down into the canyon!
Melissa grabbed her brother’s arm. uOh no!” she shrieked.
Everyone else in the bus was catching their breath or regaining consciousness.
The two kids scrambled outside and ran to the edge of the cliff. When they got there, Melissa couldn’t bear to look. “Is she . . . is she dead?” she moaned.
“Hardly!” Sean replied. “Look!”
Melissa opened her eyes and saw that Mrs. Tubbs had landed safely in a lake. At the moment, she was dog-paddling her way back to shore.
“You see,” Sean smiled at his sister. “Everything always works out.”
“How in the world can you possibly say that?” Melissa demanded.
“Simple,” he said. “After that trip through the barnyard, Mrs. Tubbs needed a bath. And now she’s getting one!”
SUNDAY, 21:13 EST
Sean was thrilled. “I can’t believe we’re really here!” he said.
“Me neither,” Melissa yawned. “I need some sleep.”
“But aren’t you excited to be in this hotel?” Sean asked. “I mean, Abraham Lincoln stayed here! So did Ulysses S. Grant . . . and Robert E. Lee! This place has so much history!”
Melissa yawned again. “All I care is that it has a bed. I haven’t slept for thirty-six hours, and I’m exhausted!” She pulled back the covers on the bed next to the window and crawled in. “In fact,” she said, “I’m so tired that I’m not even going to wash up.”
BALOOOOO!
Melissa sat up and looked at her brother. “I told you not to eat all those burritos,” she said. “How many was it? Twelve?”
Sean shook his head in protest. “That wasn’t my stomach,” he said.
“Then what . . . ?”
BALOOOOOOOOOOO!
There it was again—a strange moaning sound, just a little bit louder and longer than before.
Sean put his ear to the wall. “I think it’s coming from in there,” he said.
“Great!” Melissa exclaimed. “I wonder how many burritos Mrs. Tubbs had.” She pulled the covers up over her head. “I’ve just gotta get some sleep!”
WOOOOOAAAAAA!
“That’s not Mrs. Tubbs’ room,” Sean said. “She’s on the other side of us. And it can’t be Slobs howling. She’s downstairs in the kennel.”
“HA! HA! HA! HAAAAAAAAA!”
“Well, whoever it is, I’m going to go right over there and tell them to keep it down,” Melissa pouted.
The laughing abruptly stopp
ed. Everything grew quiet. Then the moaning started again.
Melissa threw back her covers and jumped out of bed.
“That does it!” she said. “Where are those X-ray glasses? I want to see what’s going on in that room.”
“But you can’t invade someone’s privacy like that,” Sean argued.
“Why not? They’ve already invaded mine. Ah, here they are!” She fished the glasses out of her handbag, put them on, and faced the wall.
WOOOOAAAAAAA!
Melissa just stood there without saying a word.
“What?” Sean asked. “What do you see?”
When she didn’t answer, he said, “Oh, never mind. I’ll see for myself.” He found his glasses, put them on, and looked through the wall.
The room was empty. Totally and completely empty.
SUNDAY, 22:09 EST
The hotel’s night manager peered over his glasses.
“What seems to be the problem?” he asked.
“The problem is that we’ve got to get some sleep,” Melissa huffed.
“Strange noises are coming from the room next door,” Sean explained.
The night manager pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “What kind of noises?” he asked.
“Someone moaning and wailing,” Melissa said.
“Your room number, please,” the man asked.
