I unzipped my backpack and rummaged around at the bottom until I found what I was looking for.
“You’re wrong, Beefer,” I said. “There is a way inside.”
I swiped my mom’s official SmilesCorp ID card. The red light on the lock turned green.
CHAPTER 15
“HERE, PUT THIS on,” whispered Beefer as he pulled out a wrinkled piece of black cloth and handed it to me.
It took me a moment to realize that it was a second ninja mask.
“I always carry a spare,” said Beefer. “Technically it’s forbidden by the sacred Bushido code of the ninja brotherhood for you—an untrained nerd who hasn’t earned his clear belt—to wear it, but you don’t want them to see your face. They’ve got security cameras.”
I couldn’t believe I was teaming up with the guy who had once given me a pancake-batter swirlie. I pulled the mask down over my head and nearly gagged.
“Ugh,” I said. “Beefer, it smells like . . . you.”
“That’s the smell of true ninja power,” said Beefer. He bowed.
I tucked Hammie into my shirt pocket and the three of us stepped inside Building Seven. I immediately saw that Beefer was right about one thing: the dark room we entered didn’t look like an accounting department at all. There were microscopes and test tubes and huge industrial-sized lab equipment that I couldn’t possibly guess the purpose of. Building Seven was definitely a laboratory of some sort.
Beefer did an overly elaborate ninja pointing gesture at a door marked “PROTOTYPES—FOOD AND BEVERAGE DIVISION.” We tiptoed through it.
This room was filled with industrial-sized stoves, ovens, and refrigerators. A large dry-erase board showed scribbled notes for a new type of sogginess-resistant jalapeño popper. We were in some sort of SmilesCorp test kitchen.
We passed a row of vacuum-sealed glass cases, each containing a single snack food item. The first held a doughnut that was continuously shifting through all the colors of the rainbow. Perhaps it was the next iteration of the invisible version? I admit this one was more appealing. The swirling color effect was hypnotic, but I wondered how it was achieved. Chameleon DNA?
Another nearby glass case was fogged with condensation. I wiped it away with my sleeve and saw that it held a single chocolate chip cookie that appeared to be frozen solid. Long icicles trailed off it. A digital thermometer inside the case showed the temperature was –100°C. This was odd (who freezes a perfectly good chocolate chip cookie?) but it was a little anticlimactic after the psychedelic doughnut. That was until I realized that the case was totally unrefrigerated. The cookie was somehow generating the freezing-cold temperature itself. I shivered and moved on.
The next case held a slice of pepperoni pizza that looked totally normal. Oddly it was plastered with stickers that read “DANGER! DO NOT TOUCH!” I stared at the case for a minute, wondering what could be so dangerous about an apparently normal-looking slice of pizza—
ZAP! I blinked as a bright bolt of electricity arced from one pepperoni to another.
“What kind of crazy snacks were SmilesCorp working on in here?” I said.
“I sure hope they do a Maple Syrup and Pickles Funchos Flavor-Wedge flavor,” said Beefer, glancing around. “That’s something everyone would enjoy.”
“Dude, you still want to eat snacks made by the company that abducted your only friend?”
Beefer looked crestfallen. “You’re right. I guess I should probably start a boycott or something. At least until I get Michael Perkins back. They better not have done anything to my beautiful bouncing baby boa—”
Just then Hammie Rex snorted. The little guy heard someone coming. I gave Beefer some frantic shushing and hiding gestures and both of us squeezed into a large cabinet that was full of tubs of ingredients with labels like “Sugar,” “Flour,” and “Partially Hydrogenated Frog Chromosome Extract.” It was an uncomfortably tight fit. My leg was somehow folded behind my back and Beefer’s elbow was poking me in the face. Out in the test kitchen I saw a bobbing flashlight.
Sure enough, a SmilesCorp security guard passed through the room, whistling to herself. After she was gone, Beefer and I waited a full minute before we felt safe enough to come out of the cabinet. Close one.
“If Michael Perkins is here, that’s where they must be keeping him,” I said as I pointed to another heavy door marked “ANIMAL CONTAINMENT AND MODIFICATION.”
We passed through it into a long, dark hallway lined with rows of animal cages. The ones nearby contained standard white lab mice, but the hooting, scuffling, and growling of other animals filled the air. If SmilesCorp created Squirrel Kong, my gut told me that this was where it had happened.
“What’s that?” said Beefer, nervously pointing to a heavy iron cage on the floor nearby. A creature crouched in the shadows of the far corner.
I pulled out my UltraLite SmartShot camera, still set to night-vision mode, and pointed it at the animal. On the display, I could see now that the cage held a lean brown rabbit-like creature.
“Don’t worry. I think that’s just a hare,” I said. “Which is like a rabbit but—”
I saw the hare turn toward me, its eyes glowing a vivid green on the camera’s display. It pulled its lips back to reveal rows of glistening, razor-sharp teeth. From my pocket Hammie Rex whined. I panned the camera down to the label at the base of the cage. It read “Specimen #3010, Lepus arctos horribilis—Grizzly Hare.” I snapped a photo as I slowly backed away from the cage.
“I’m really starting to get creeped out here,” said Beefer. “It’s like that movie The Mutant Beasts of Dr. Murder but, like, actually scary.”
“This place is horrible,” I said, looking at the animal cages around us. “What does any of this have to do with snack foods or health supplements or quadcopter deliveries?”
“I told you, Sam,” said Beefer. “SmilesCorp is up to some bad stuff.”
We now passed by more rows of apparently normal white mice, except these cages all had high-tech electronic food dispensers attached to them. Each of the dispensers had a large red button on the outside.
“Huh,” I said, “I wonder what the red buttons are. Obviously we can’t push them because—”
Beefer punched the button on the dispenser attached to the cage. A single Funchos Flavor-Wedge tumbled out of the dispenser and down into the mouse’s cage. The mouse gave a crazed squeak and flew at the salty snack.
By the time Hammie even caught the Flavor-Wedge’s scent, the white mouse had finished devouring it and was licking the orange dust off its whiskers. It had the same crazed look that I’d seen so many times before.
“All these mice are totally addicted to Funchos Flavor-Wedges,” I said.
“Well, they are a delicious snack,” said Beefer, “and good for you.”
“What? They’re not good for you.”
“Agree to disagree,” said Beefer.
As we continued onward, the hallway split into a T. In the middle of the fork stood a massive cage, at least twenty-five feet by twenty-five feet. It held one plastic bowl the size of a small trash can of water and another one filled with acorns. The cage was empty, though. I checked the label at the bottom. It read:
The word “Missing!” was handwritten on a sticky note.
“This is it!” I cried. “This has got to be Squirrel Kong!” I snapped a pic.
“Really? Sure looks a lot like an empty cage to me, Sam,” said Beefer. “Did Squirrel Kong eat an invisible doughnut, too?”
“You’re right,” I said. “This is a start, but I have to find out if there’s any more hard evidence about Specimen #13108 somewhere in the lab.”
“And I need to find Michael Perkins so I can give him smooches!” said Beefer.
We stared at each other for a moment.
“Okay,” I said, “let’s split up and meet back here in ten minutes.”
Beefer ninja-scuttled down the left fork of the hallway and I headed right. Eventually I came to an office. One wall was covered in
portraits and the other had a computer bay with four identical computers side by side. Through a single high window I saw a patch of night sky outside. I took Hamstersaurus Rex out of my pocket and put him on the floor.
“All right, Hammie,” I said. “You keep watch while I see what’s on these computers.”
Hammie Rex chirped in agreement and stomped off to stand guard behind me.
I tried to log in to all of the computers, but they were all password locked. Luckily, the second terminal from the left had the deeply unimaginative password “Smiles1234.” I searched through the hard drive until I found a folder full of numbered files. Sure enough, there was one called 13108.txt—Squirrel Kong’s specimen number.
I opened it. It was a text file that seemed to be a case history of Specimen 13108. As far as I could tell it had something to do with performing a series of extremely complicated tests on a gray squirrel. But the language of the file was way too technical for me to understand. I sighed. I was pretty sure I’d found my evidence, but I had no idea what it proved. I would need to save the file for later. Maybe with time and effort I could actually comprehend what it meant. I briefly considered emailing 13108.txt to myself but I thought better of leaving behind any internet history on the SmilesCorp computers. Instead, I popped the universal memory card out of my camera and inserted it into the computer. I saved 13108.txt to the card.
Across the room, Hammie made a plaintive noise. I turned to see the little guy staring up at the wall of portraits. He gave another soft whine.
“What’s up?” I said. “What are we looking at?”
Once I got closer I saw that the portraits were all paintings of the lab chiefs of the SmilesCorp Genetic Research and Development Lab. They dated back fifty years and led all the way up to the lab’s present chief, a severe-looking bald man named Gordon Renfro. Hammie stood on the floor and gazed up at the portrait hung next to Renfro’s: a kindly looking elderly woman with thick glasses. She kind of reminded me of my grandma. The plaque below her portrait said she was the previous lab chief and her name was Dr. Sue Sandoval. It also said her tenure ended last year. Hammie whined again.
I’d never seen him like this. It was odd, but I couldn’t help but get the feeling that Hamstersaurus Rex somehow knew this woman. On impulse, I popped the memory card back into my UltraLite SmartShot and snapped a picture of the wall of portraits.
Hammie Rex whined again and hopped up and down. I picked him up and held him closer to Sue Sandoval’s picture.
“What?” I said. “Is there something you want me to see?”
Hammie cooed happily and nuzzled the portrait. An instant later, I heard the noise of footsteps coming. I dashed across the room and dove under the computer bay.
“Sam!” cried Beefer. “I found Michael Perkins! But they did something to him!”
I crept out on all fours to see Beefer holding a boa constrictor. But after a moment I noticed that something wasn’t quite right. Instead of scales, the snake’s body was covered in bright green feathers. As Michael Perkins coiled around Beefer’s shoulders I saw that two undersized wings now sprouted from his body. Instead of his fanged mouth, he now had a little orange bird beak.
“He’s, like, part parakeet or something,” sobbed Beefer. “They made my beautiful bouncing baby boa a parakeet!”
“You’re right,” I said, completely dumbfounded. “He’s, like, a . . . boakeet now. Or maybe a feather boa?”
“Waaaaaah!” Beefer burst into tears. Michael Perkins squawked and flapped his tiny wings in dismay.
“Shhhhh. It’s, uh, okay, man,” I said. “Maybe we can figure out how to fix him. But first we’ve got to—”
I heard a faint buzzing sound from outside the window. I turned. Sure enough, the shape of the quadcopter was silhouetted against the night sky. Hammie Rex growled.
“Oh no,” I said.
Outside in the darkness, I heard the telltale shriek of Squirrel Kong.
CHAPTER 16
“BEEFER, WE’VE GOT to get out of here right now,” I cried, running toward the hallway.
I turned to see that he wasn’t following me.
“What’s the use?” he said, still blubbering, as he slumped to the ground. “My best friend is a boakeet now. A boakeet! That’s not even a thing. I can’t be best friends with a boakeet. He’s useless.”
Michael Perkins squawked pitifully, reflecting Beefer’s angst.
“Snap out of it, man!” I said. “He might be a little . . . different, but he’s still Michael Perkins.
He’s not useless. Deep down he’s the same coldblooded rodent-eating constrictor you always loved. Anyway, none of that will matter if we’re here when Squirrel Kong shows up. Now stop crying because that’s what, uh, nerds do.”
Beefer looked up at me and wiped his face with the back of his hand. “You’re right, Sam,” he said, standing up again. “If I sit here crying then I’d be no better than you.”
“Whatever. Just come on!”
BOOOOOM! The wall to the lab burst inward, spraying bricks and rubble everywhere. Beefer shrieked. The hulking furry shape that stood in the hole let out a bloodcurdling cry.
Before I could stop him, Hamstersaurus Rex roared and leaped out of my pocket. He hit the ground running and charged, top speed, right at the beast. He meant to finally have his rematch with Squirrel Kong.
“Hammie, no!” I cried.
But it was too late. Hamstersaurus Rex sprang at Squirrel Kong and opened his jaws wide for an epic dino-chomp. Squirrel Kong reared back and kicked Hamstersaurus Rex in midair. The little guy sailed clear across the room—right over my head—and smacked against the wall with a light thud. Then he fell to the ground, limp, beside me. I scooped him up and stuffed him into my pocket, just as Squirrel Kong gave another enraged bellow. The quadcopter buzzed around overhead like an angry hornet crop-dusting the room with Funchos flavoring.
“Follow me!” I cried to Beefer.
Beefer blinked and then we both started to run, leaving Squirrel Kong and the copter behind us. Red lights were flashing throughout the building and a siren now wailed. A cool automated female voice spoke over the intercom. “Warning. Security breach in Building Seven: Animal Containment and Modification. Warning. Security breach in Building Seven . . .”
Beefer and I ran through the animal lab, retracing our steps. Behind us I could hear the quadcopter and Squirrel Kong smashing its way through walls, splintering furniture, upsetting cages, and crunching scientific equipment. Each bellow sounded angrier than the last. The sheer terror of the other animals in the lab had reached a fever pitch. Their barks and howls and screams were nearly as loud as the SmilesCorp alarm system. A horde of lab rats with slippery-looking fish scales ran past us on the floor. Squirrel Kong must have upset their cages.
Up ahead I saw the beams of two flashlights bobbing toward us in the dark. Security guards! I yanked Beefer aside and we hid behind a big tank full of murky water. The creature inside swam in incredibly fast circles. I didn’t get a good look, but it seemed to have a yellowish reptilian body speckled with black spots. I glanced down at the label: “Specimen #5869, Acinoyx mississippiensis— Cheetahgator.” The two guards raced past us to confront the “security breach.”
“What the heck is going on!” whispered Beefer. He looked absolutely terrified.
“Hang on!” I said. I had to check on Hamstersaurus Rex. I gently removed him from my pocket. The little guy was still limp. He wasn’t moving. I held my breath and put my finger on my chest and felt for signs of life. Nothing. Then, a tiny heartbeat. He was still alive! Hamstersaurus Rex was alive! The giant squirrel kick had knocked him unconscious, though. I carefully put him back into my pocket.
“Sam, what was that thing back there?” said Beefer, staring into the darkness in the direction we’d come from.
“I told you,” I said. “It’s Squirrel Kong!”
“So there really is a giant squirrel?”
“Of course there is!”
�
��Wow. I totally didn’t believe you before,” said Beefer. “I mean, honestly, Sam, you make a lot of stuff up. You basically have what I’d call an overactive imagination—”
“Shhh!”
I saw the flashlights returning. The guards ran right past us again, heading back the way they had come at top speed. Their faces were utterly terrified. An office chair came flying down the hall after them. It smashed into a rack of animal cages, toppling them and freeing three capuchin monkeys and a dozen bullfrogs.
Beefer and I waited a moment for the guards to disappear, then we made a break for it. Together we ran through the door back into the food and beverage division, along with an ever-increasing number of terrified animals, fleeing the mayhem of Squirrel Kong. We ran past the glass cases along with otters and iguanas and armadillos that slithered and hopped and scuttled along the ground between our feet. Occasionally I’d catch an eerie glimpse of an animal that didn’t look quite right: a duck that seemed to be covered in fur; a dachshund that might have had six legs; another shiny, scaled rat. Finally, Beefer and I made it out the side door where we’d entered the lab. A stream of animals followed us out, rushing past our feet and into the night. Behind me the sound of Squirrel Kong’s rampage continued unabated. The very foundations of Building Seven seemed to shake, making me wonder if the entire structure might collapse. The scene was utter pandemonium.
Beefer and I ran together for a few dozen feet. Hamstersaurus Rex was still unconscious in my pocket, and Michael Perkins draped forlornly across Beefer’s shoulders. I grabbed my bike and hopped on, ready to ride hard for home. We turned to go our separate ways.
“Sam, wait,” said Beefer.
I paused.
“Look, I just want to say that . . . even though I’m super tough and I’m not scared of stuff . . . I maybe wouldn’t have gotten Michael Perkins back without you. So, you know . . .” He trailed off, mumbling something that was too faint for me to hear.
Hamstersaurus Rex vs. Squirrel Kong Page 9
