by Rob Vlock
“Why would everyone hate you?” I asked. “I don’t hate you, and you’ve been trying to kill me.”
I meant it as a joke, but she didn’t crack a smile.
“Back home there was . . . an incident a couple of years before I came here,” she told me, staring at the floor. “It was my fault. In the Settlement I’m from, there were no pets allowed. No animals of any kind. They were strict about it too. Any animals they found, they’d put outside the walls—or worse. I always thought it was a stupid rule. Anyway, I was outside the walls with my friends one day and I found this tiny baby bunny. It was hurt, bleeding. My friends told me to forget about it, that I’d get in trouble. I tried to forget. But I couldn’t get that little bunny out of my head. So that night, I snuck out and brought it inside.”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “Everyone hated you because of a baby rabbit?”
She looked at me sadly. “I wanted to nurse it back to health and let it go again. I wasn’t going to keep it or anything. I put it in a cardboard box under my bed and then went to sleep. When I woke up in the morning, it was gone. At first I thought my parents found it and turned it in. But then I heard the news.”
She grabbed her braids and pulled on them. Her eyes glinted with anguish. “It was a Tick,” she spat. “By the time they deactivated it, it had killed six people. Six! All because of me.”
“But how could you have known? It was just a bunny.”
“I should have known. But like you said, thinking was never my strong suit. I was so stupid. When people found out what I did, no one would talk to me. The kids at school totally shunned me.”
“I know what that’s like,” I told her.
“After that, all I wanted to do was get back at those lousy Ticks for what they had done to me. I started taking extra combat instruction. I learned how to fight.”
“You are pretty great at fighting,” I mumbled in a feeble attempt to make her feel better.
She snorted disdainfully and looked down at the smashed plastic figures on the floor. “After a couple of years, I thought I was so tough. That’s when I stole a Tick popper and snuck off to try to find some Ticks.”
She paused and closed her eyes tightly, like she was trying to shut out some awful memory.
“The problem is, I did. They weren’t far from the Settlement. I should have just run back and told someone. But I seem to have this talent for doing the wrong thing. I tried to take them out myself. I took careful aim with the popper. I figured I’d get the biggest one first. I slowly squeezed the trigger. And missed by a mile. All I managed to do was make them angry.
“They started to move toward me. I was so scared, I just dropped the Tick popper and ran like crazy. When I stopped, I realized I was lost. It took me hours to get back to the Settlement. And when I did, it was . . . gone. They’d killed everyone. Burned most of the buildings. And it was all my fault.”
“You can’t blame yourself,” I whispered. “You—”
“Of course I can blame myself!” she snapped. “All I’ve ever done is screw things up. And now I think I can just show up here and save the world. That if I act all tough and confident, people won’t realize what a loser I am. That I can hide who I really am behind some make-believe tough-girl armor. Yeah, right. What a tupitsa. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
I didn’t know what say, so we sat in silence until I cleared my throat awkwardly. “We should probably get going. We don’t have much time.”
She let out a slow, shuddering sigh. “What’s the point? I’m scared of mannequins. I’m scared of Ticks. I’m scared of what will happen if I screw up again. It won’t just be the Settlement this time. It’ll be the whole world. I’m just not good enough to do this. I’m . . . done.”
She covered her face with her hands and let out a long, despondent moan.
Seeing her like this set off an ache deep within my chest. I’d always thought she was so perfectly cool, so tough. Like some kind of invincible machine—the definition of awesome. But all of a sudden she seemed . . . more human. More vulnerable. And the thing is, it made her even more awesome. Knowing that she might have been frightened on the inside but could still be so brave and capable on the outside. It wasn’t her combat training that made her strong. It was that despite the doubts about herself, she had the courage to give everything she had to take on problems that were so much bigger than she was.
I glanced over at the girl sitting next to me—the strongest person I had ever met. The ache in my chest grew into something bigger. Something that flooded my whole body with a hot, restless energy and flushed away the fear.
I got to my feet and kicked a severed mannequin arm across the floor.
“You know what? You may not feel like you’re good enough. But I know you are,” I told her, untapped anger suddenly rising to the surface. “I’ve had to live my entire life feeling like I wasn’t good enough! I suck at throwing a football! I’m the biggest joke in Schenectady because of what I eat! I’ve never once stood up to the bully who has made my life a misery since third grade! But the last couple of days, as horrible as they’ve been, have taught me something. They’ve taught me that no matter how much you might want to sit there and worry about what other people think of you and stress about the mistakes you might have made, you’re the only you you’ve got! And you have to accept it! The only way being different makes you a loser is if you let it!”
She looked up at me with tearstained cheeks.
“So listen to me,” I continued. “If you’re not going to fight, fine. I will. Because I think you’re worth fighting for. So stay here if you want. I’m going to find Junkman Sam.”
Alicia went utterly still for a moment. Then she blinked through her tears, her shoulders straightening as she finally seemed to register what I’d said.
I could imagine how it had been for her, battling alone for so long with no one to believe in her. But I believed. And I willed the power of my belief—in her courage, in her strength, in her awesomeness—to pour right through me until she couldn’t help but see it in my eyes.
She sniffed and cocked an incredulous brow at me. And then it happened.
A smile broke out on her face, so wide and full that it seemed to melt away the shadows in the dingy abandoned mall.
I was just adjusting to the weird feeling of free fall that took hold of my chest when, without warning, Alicia jumped up from the bench and threw her arms around me.
I could still hear the smile in her voice as she spoke beside my ear.
“If you think you can do this without me, you’re out of your mind.” She squeezed me harder. “Now let’s go kick some butt.”
And at that moment, I felt like I could have taken on anyone—Dr. Shallix, Pumpkin . . . maybe even Brandon Marks.
CHAPTER 37.0:
< value= [Trespassers Will Be . . . What?] >
“HEY, WHAT ARE YOU TWO doing?”
Will stared at us, sitting up surrounded by broken mannequins on the floor.
Alicia and I quickly let go of each other.
“Nothing,” we blurted in unison.
Good thing the lighting wasn’t better. I could feel myself blushing like a boiled lobster.
I looked at Alicia. She stifled a laugh and wiped her cheeks with the sleeves of her shirt. When she looked up, her eyes glinted with purpose. “If you’re done with your nap, Will, we need to find Junkman Sam. Let’s move.”
“But . . . but . . . we never saw the ball of floss!” Will protested.
Alicia ignored him, abruptly slung her backpack over her shoulder, and headed for the exit.
We walked out into the open air, and Will squinted against the setting sun.
“So how are we going to find him?” he asked.
Before anyone could answer, a gentle wind picked up and rustled the leaves of the overgrown trees that ringed the parking lot. I was expecting a nice fresh breeze. But I got a nose full of stench.
“Eww,” I gagged. “What is that?”
/>
“You know what it kind of smells like?” Alicia asked thoughtfully.
Will nodded slowly, his fingers pinching his nose. “A twenty-foot-tall toilet?”
It seemed like a safe bet. I licked my finger and held it up. “The wind is coming from that way,” I said pointing to the far side of the lot.
We crossed over the shattered blacktop, weaving between rusted shopping carts, and walked into the woods, letting our noses lead us toward the repulsive smell.
We trudged forward in silence, each of us occupied with our own thoughts. My mind swam with a sea of “what-ifs.” What if we didn’t find Junkman Sam? What if he couldn’t help me? What if reprogramming me ended up scrambling my brain? Would I know who I was anymore? Would I know Mom and Dad? Would I even be me anymore?
I peered at the setting sun glinting through the trees. If this goes wrong, I thought, a hard knot of fear tightening beneath my ribs, I might not see it rise again tomorrow.
The smell grew stronger and stronger. It reminded me of the time I used the bathroom right after my dad on Chili Dog Wednesday at Giuseppe’s Dog and Burger Factory. We were getting close.
When the odor was strong enough to bring tears to our eyes, Alicia stopped at the edge of a little dirt road that cut thorough the woods. She pointed to our right, where it curved around and stopped right in front of a ten-foot-tall chain-link fence covered with razor wire. Jutting up into the air behind it was something big. And toilet-shaped.
“Is that . . . ?” I began.
“Flushosaurus Rex,” Alicia finished. “We found it.”
I, for one, had never been so glad to see a twenty-foot-high toilet in my life. I started to walk toward it. Alicia stopped me.
“Hold up,” she said. “Let’s watch for a minute.”
The place was clearly an old junkyard. Here and there, tall stacks of rusted, junky cars—even taller than Flushosaurus Rex—towered above the ground. Three squat, corrugated metal buildings sat among them. And an ancient-looking crane loomed above the whole scene.
We sat at the margin of the woods, studying the compound, looking for anything that might be suspicious. Nothing moved.
“No signs of life,” Alicia announced after five minutes.
I didn’t like the sound of that. “Is that good or bad?”
“Depends.” She picked up a rock and tossed it halfheartedly at a clump of coarse grass. “On whether the Ticks got here before us.”
Will reached for a broken twig and began feverishly snapping off half-inch lengths, whimpering softly as the pieces fell to the ground.
“We should split up. Each check a building for Junkman Sam,” Alicia said at last. “It’ll be faster that way. I’ll take the middle one. Sven, go left. Will, you search the one on the right. You guys ready?”
“Listen,” I said to her, “whatever happens, I just wanted to say . . . thanks. You took a chance on me. You didn’t have to. I owe you—”
“Nothing,” she interrupted. “You don’t owe me anything. This is what I’m here for.”
I looked her in the eye for a moment. “No. You were here to kill me, remember? Thanks for, you know, not doing that.”
She smiled weakly. “The day’s not over yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
Then she did something I didn’t expect. She leaned in close and kissed me on the cheek. Even though the light was fading with the setting sun, I’m pretty sure you could have seen me blushing a mile away.
Will wrapped his gangly arms around the two of us. Then we just stood there for a few seconds, looking like a trio of complete idiots. Luckily, there was no one there to see us.
Even if there had been, though, I wouldn’t have cared.
Will let us go and we stalked quietly through the tall grass, each of us folded into a low crouch, trying to blend in with the vegetation until we reached the front gate. A big weatherworn sign loomed above it.
WELCOME TO JUNKMAN SAM’S SECRET COMPOUND.
TRESPASSERS WILL BE S
The last word looked like it had been hit with a blast from a shotgun. We couldn’t make it out.
“Maybe it says ‘served a nice cold glass of lemonade,’ ” Will suggested hopefully.
I got the feeling he was wrong about that.
“If you get into trouble, scream,” Alicia told us.
“I think I can manage that,” Will replied in a shaky voice.
Alicia carefully pushed the gate open and crept through. Will and I slunk after her. Well, I slunk after her. Will was busy compulsively flipping the gate latch up and down. It screeched ominously on its rusty hinge, like the sound you’d hear when someone opened the basement door in a horror movie. Alicia and I stopped and glared back at him.
When he noticed us, he shrugged and said, “It’s not a light switch, but it will have to do.”
Alicia and I waited impatiently while Will flipped the latch forty-seven times. Then he joined us.
The path to the center of the compound was only about fifty yards long. But it was the longest walk of my life. I was sure that every step was taking me closer to a hidden Tick or heavily armed mad Ukrainian scientist. But by the time we stood in front of the first building, we’d still seen no sign of any living being—human or otherwise.
“Listen, guys,” Alicia said. “Be careful, okay?”
I tried to put on a brave smile. But in reality, I was pretty scared. This was the moment of truth. By the end of the day, I’d either walk out of here and live the rest of my life, or . . . .
“Let’s go,” I managed to say.
Alicia gave a businesslike nod and, without any further ado, struck off in the direction of the middle building.
Will bit his lip nervously and gestured toward the structure on the right. “Well, I guess that’s mine.”
He took a few tentative steps, but then stopped to look back at me. I had to pretend I wasn’t just as freaked-out as he looked, so I gave him a confident thumbs-up. He straightened his shoulders and continued on his way.
As I approached, I studied the building I was supposed to search. It had definitely seen better days. The metal walls were streaked with rust, and the roof was so bent and dented that I imagined it had been pounded by hailstones the size of bowling balls.
I tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. The door squawked like an enraged elephant when I pushed it open. So much for stealth. I stood in the doorway, waiting for something to happen. Surely, anyone who might have been in the building would have heard that door opening.
But I was met with silence.
I squinted into the gloomy interior. It was too dark to make anything out. So I felt around on the wall for a light switch. When I found one, I flipped it up. The room filled with the hum of electricity as rows of huge overhead lights snapped on. I winced against the sudden brightness.
When my eyes adjusted, I could make out the features of the building. It was basically a warehouse. Just one huge room with a whole bunch of metal beams holding the roof up.
Strange, half-finished sculptures occupied nearly every inch of the place. To my left, an eight-foot-high replica of the Statue of Liberty made out of what looked like old circuit boards and aluminum foil jutted up from a collection of tangled wires. To my right, I saw a small car that had six legs, rather than wheels. It reminded me of a huge beetle.
The weirdest thing, though, stood right in the middle of the room. An immense sculpture of a purple mushroom with a big, fat, green caterpillar smiling down at me from the top. At first, I thought it might be an actual living caterpillar. It pulsated and shuddered as it stared at me unblinkingly. But I soon realized it was mechanical. I could hear the whir and click of gears as it throbbed on its purple perch.
I had no idea why someone would build something like that. Then again, he was called Junkman Sam. “Junk” pretty well described what I saw scattered around the building. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I mean, the guy spent years of his life making a giant toilet. But it didn’t make me too optimist
ic about the chances of his being able to reprogram me. Because, you know, it wasn’t like I was a big, smiling caterpillar.
It didn’t take me long to search the building. It was empty.
I walked back to the door and turned out the lights. As soon as I stepped outside, I heard something. Alicia’s voice.
“Sven!” she screamed. “Sven!”
Then the vicious roar of a gunshot split the air.
CHAPTER 38.0:
< value= [I Don’t Know Art, but I Know What Stinks] >
MY HEART POUNDED AND MY legs were a blur of motion as I sprinted toward the sound. It came from the building Alicia was searching.
I made it to the door and barely slowed down. Seizing the handle, I yanked it open and rushed through.
Inside, the building was almost identical to the one I had just left. The same large open room, the same bright lights. The only difference was that, instead of being filled with sculptures, this one had big half-painted canvases lying just about everywhere. Some hung on the walls; others stood on easels. There were a few dozen just scattered on the floor.
The subject matter of the paintings varied. None of them were very good. But they were all sort of scary. Some showed vicious-looking robots attacking cowering humans. Some showed vicious-looking humans attacking robots. And some showed sad-looking clowns. Those were the scariest.
But what really impressed me was the double-barreled shotgun that was aimed at my face.
The man who held it was short and round and had long, wild, gray hair that looked like he had just stuck a fork in an electrical outlet. Dark welding goggles were perched on his forehead, and he more than filled out his shabby, paint-spattered white shirt and threadbare khaki pants.
“Hi, Sven,” Alicia said in a perfectly unconcerned voice. “Good news. I found him. This is Junkman Sam.”
I stared at the weapon the man was holding. It was close enough to my face that I could smell the spicy, metallic odor of spent gunpowder hanging heavy at the end of the barrel. My tongue darted out and licked the hot steel.
“Are you okay, Alicia?” I asked, unable to take my eyes off the gun. “Did he hurt you?”
