by Dele Daniel
In passing the junker, Alex could tell the junk in the back were just fake crates once more, disguised to hide in plain sight. The detective moved in long stride and Alex tried to match his gate, tilting down his own fedora to match his. They came to the back door of the school and tried the handle. It was unlocked, but before the detective could open it all the way, it suddenly swung inward to reveal Mr. Armstrong blocking their entrance, “Oh hello! Sorry, school’s closed.”
“Oh, pardon me,” the detective began. “I’m actually here to speak to you, and a man by the name of Joe Stump.”
Mr. Armstrong didn’t budge, “Oh no one here except me, and I’ve certainly never heard of a Joe Stump. Sorry.”
Alex suddenly titled his head at the sound of a familiar backfire. The detective already knew what was going on, but Alex bolted back around the school. By the time he reached the parking lot, the junker was gone.
“Well, no matter,” continued the detective to Mr. Armstrong’s annoyance. “My real reason for visiting is regarding a little club you run out of the math labs. I believe the ‘Rainy Day Club?’”
Mr. Armstrong cleared his throat, “Oh that’s a club that only runs during school. It’s on hiatus for the summer, so if you don’t mind,” Mr. Armstrong made to close the door but the detective stopped it with his foot. Alex was just making his way back from the parking lot, disappointed the stranger had gotten away. He managed to catch the end of the conversation.
“That’s interesting. That’s interesting because there has been a lot of activity coming out of this school regarding a certain weather app. This would be a weather app that your club has been voting for in record numbers.”
Mr. Armstrong suddenly squared his shoulders, “That must be a mistake. Again, the club is on hiatus for the summer. Good day,” and with a quick motion, prompted the detective to move his foot as Mr. Armstrong swung the door shut, locking it from the other side.
“Well, young Alex, what are your thoughts on Mr. Armstrong?”
Alex didn’t hesitate, “Guilty. I think he’s as guilty as it gets but we don’t have any proof.”
“Ah,” began the detective, “proof is a funny thing. We don’t have any, even if Joe Stump got away, all he did was lie about the role over. But if we can catch them in the act…”
A look of realisation spread across Alex’s face, “You mean you know where their rocket is going to be blasting off, for sure?”
“Not exactly,” began the detective, “But I do have a hunch.”
***
Kathy had woken up quite a bit later than Alex. It was surprising, usually she was up well before her cousin, but she had been so exhausted from the worry and sleuthing, that she overslept by about an hour. She woke up feeling anxious and concerned. If Detective Galan Krantz was correct, Jack was still somewhere near Silver Creek, but after tonight, he could be as far as England. She’d never see him again.
She got dressed and made her way for the bedroom door and found Alex’s note. A carefully folded piece of loose-leaf paper had been slid into her room.
Dear Kathy,
I am sorry I left this morning without you. I had an idea about Mr. Armstrong, but if I’m wrong, it will have been a very long walk for nothing. Mr. Armstrong could still be operating out of the school, maybe that’s where he’s been spending most of his time. I have another idea as well. Could you gather Elon and Angelo and meet me at the treehouse around noon? We may need the emergency suits. I’ll explain later.
-Alex
***
“I still say we call it Pasta Presidio”
“No, You’re crazy!! Noodle H.Q.!”
“Noodle HQ is ridiculous!”
“It doesn’t matter, it sounds great!”
Elon and Angelo were already back on the great debate as Kathy climbed up the two-by-fours and through the hatch.
“Still at it?” Kathy tried to fake a smile, the Lieutenant and Brigadier of Spaghetti Squad could tell that she wasn’t quite herself.
“What’s up, Captain?” asked Angelo, taking a seat on top of the duffle full of space suits.
“Its just Jack,” she said with a tone exasperation
“Oh, well, yeah of course,” Angelo finished sheepishly.
“Hey, it’s going to be alright,” said Elon. “We’re going to catch those guys tonight and get back all of the corgis.”
Kathy tried to believe it, she didn’t like being sad. She sat quietly, desperately wanting to fill the growing silence of the treehouse, but she couldn’t. She was just too blue. Angelo and Elon shared a look of genuine concern. At the moment they were at a loss. They didn’t know what Alex had in mind with the suits, or if they would even be seeing Detective Krantz again. But they wanted Kathy to smile again, that much they did know. They had to get Jack back.
Angelo got up and started pacing around the treehouse, “So I’m a weird old guy that drives a rickety old truck. I’m not that smart but I sure know where gravity consoles are hidden. I do handy work on the, what did he say…something about heat?”
“Yeah,” echoed Elon.
Kathy stayed quiet.
“Hey, wait a minute,” added Elon. “The Desert biome…also works with the heating system, which means…oh I’m so stupid!”
“What?! What is it?” inquire Angelo with gusto.
“Yeah, what is it, Elon?” joined Kathy.
“The heating system! The one that kicks in every night. Man, I’m so stupid! There are heating ducts that run beneath everything, even the forest, artificially generating heat when the disc goes down. That clang! Don’t you see?”
Kathy slowly raised her head, her eyes widening, “There must have been someone in the heating ducts that day. And we saw Mr. Armstrong right after. If he were working with Mr. Stump, then he’d know about the heating ducts running beneath all of Silver Creek!”
“That’s not too shabby, kids. This squad continues to impress.” The detective was just making his way through the hatchway, Alex was just behind him.
“Hey, guys,” Alex added, rejoining the Squad.
The rest of the Squad chimed in all at once, “Hey, Alex!”
The detective smiled and began to steer to conversation, “That’s some great work, squad but I’m thinking it’s time to round up a herd of lost corgis.”
The Squad looked to one and other and nodded but it was Kathy that spoke for all of them, “Just tell us how we can help.”
***
“You old fool! Your wretched roll over has almost blown the whole thing!” Mr. Armstrong was furious.
“Oh c’mon, now. I told ya what happened, what am I supposed to say?” Joe Stump put down his half-finished sandwich, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “That mongrel came a dartin’ out onto the road. You told me! You told me, straight from the beginning, don’t let nuffin happen to any one of them pups.”
Mr. Armstrong began to massage his temples, “I don’t want anything to happen to them, because they won’t be sold for as much if they are harmed! By letting that one corgi escape, and not just hitting the thing, you rolled over and lost two more!?
“We still got the lot of them. Plenty of money to be had yet,” Joe finished with a cackle, “Heh, heh, them ol’ boys back in jolly ol’ England sure must love them some pups.”
“They’ve already transferred half the funds in crypto coins. And yes Joe, they most certainly do.”
Joe half-shrugged and tossed Mr. Armstrong a piece of sandwich crudely wrapped in tinfoil. It floated through the air, slowly, because none of the gravity generators were installed yet. The men sat on a portable picnic table, next to a shack and a large wooden cellar door. Next to the shack was a roundup of well over two dozen corgis. Some were sleeping, some were playing, and some were pacing around their confines. Mr. Armstrong, Joe Stump, and their army of corgis, were all contained in a portable bubble, a portable bubble in the middle of a half-finished biome. Above them, a large hole had been cut out, some thirty feet in diameter, for on the ot
her side of Mr. Armstrong and Joe, just outside the bubble, was a mid-sized rocket, fully fueled, and due for departure very, very, soon.
***
With the disc’s scheduled maintenance in only one hour, the police rover came barreling out of the forest, slamming its breaks near the entrance to the third biome, “Blast,” coolly stated the detective. The Squad had come up against a sealed portion of the bubble, bricked and glued with astro-filler. There was no way any vehicles were getting in or out.
“Mr. Galan Detective, sir?” piped up Angelo from the back.
“What is it, Brigadier?” The whole Squad tried to hide their excitement that the detective remembered Angelo’s rank.
Angelo continued, “How is it the junker and the corgi thieves could have been getting through here? It’s all blocked up.”
“That’s a very good point,” began the detective, “I think the answer is that they haven’t been.” He scratched at the week old stubble of his chin, “They must have a secret way in.”
Kathy frowned as she looked out the rover’s window. The edge of the forest biome connected to the third through only the one airlock. On one side, free growing plants and grasses made its way right up to the barrier, but on the other side, just grey moon dust. They could all see there weren’t any tracks in the other biome either. Kathy checked her watch and just as hopelessness began to settle on her thoughts, Detective Galan Krantz said something that changed everything, “Who’s this little guy?”
As if on cue, a very warm, very familiar, corgi shout came from the edge of the trees. And it continued. Bark! Bark! Bark! Kathy’s eyes were as wide as they had ever been, but her smile was bigger, JACK!!!”
10
Kathy kept Jack in the tightest hug she’d ever given him. He was dirty, smelly, and happy. After a moment or two, Jack squirmed from the embrace, and circled the Squad who had come to form around them. Jack barked and barked and half jumped over and over.
“Well, he definitely wants our attention,” mused the detective.
Jack blasted once more around the group before taking off between the trees and the edge of the dome. The rover being too big to fit, and the squad having no time to spare, they took off after Jack on foot. Not too far a distance from the main entrance were some knocked-over trees and heavy excavation. The stacked trees made a natural camouflage and it was very difficult to see the upheaval. But it was there. The entire mess hid a tunnel just big enough for a junker to drive through. They had found the way in.
The detective stood at the mouth of the tunnel, eyes narrow, “You all should suit up, just in case there’s trouble. My guess is they got a portable bubble, but they also got a rocket. They’ll need an opening. The Spaghetti Squad nodded and within minutes, the duffle bag was out and the Spaghetti Squad was ready for space.
“What about your suit?” said Alex to the detective.
“Afraid mine’s left back in the rover. Don’t worry though, I can hold my breath,” the detective finished with a wink.
Just then, Jack blasted down the corridor. The corridor itself was strung with caged lights, they ran on for what seemed forever. The Squad didn’t care. It wasn’t as long as they had feared, as they came up to a dirt ramp, leading to a wide wooden cellar door. The detective put a finger to his lips and motioned for the squad to stay quiet. Elon had been leading the younger detectives, and passed the sign on down the way. Alex had been right behind.
Two muffled voices could be heard, “Did you get the last of them?”
“Frozen as a door nail. Ready fer jolly ol’ England.”
“Alright, the disc will be down any minute. I told you to get your suit on.”
“Oh, quit your belly achin’, I’m doin’ it.”
The detective gave a nod to the Squad and then heaved open the cellar doors. The two scoundrels were startled by the sudden commotion. Joe stumbled over his suit only half around his ankles. Mr. Armstrong was already in his suit, and though he tripped over the picnic table, he was up quickly and moving for a smaller bubble leading to the outside. The Squad realised just then they hadn’t really developed a plan. Elon was the first to give a few delegations, “Alright, Captain, you’re with me, Brigadier, stop that old timer, I’ll help, and Alex,” Alex turned to look at Elon, “You do you,” Elon finished.
Alex smiled, and went to help the detective who was rolling with Mr. Armstrong toward the airlock. Elbows were flying, fists were missing their targets, and the detective tried to bring Mr. Armstrong to his knees as Alex closed in on the two. But he tripped, falling into the detective and setting Mr. Armstrong free. He was out through the airlock in a flash, bobbing up and down toward the grey rocket, propped like a tripod on three large fins.
“No!” exclaimed the detective but it was too late. Alex was out the airlock and after Mr. Armstrong.
The rest of the squad had managed to pin down Joe Stump, who had been cursing and blathering uselessly beneath Angelo, who was sitting cross-legged on his chest. Elon held his arms and Kathy had his feet. He promptly gave up. Outside, however, Mr. Armstrong was making his way up a tall ladder comprised of metal handles welded to the hull of the rocket. The pilot’s deck resided at the very top. Alex saw what he had to do, he looked back at the detective, who showed genuine concern. He saw the rest of the squad watching him and then he noticed Elon. He couldn’t make out faces with all of them in their helmets. But Elon was the tallest. And he was nodding.
Right, Alex thought to himself. He squared his shoulders. Turned to the rocket. And with three giant steps, leapt into space. He was airborne and flying up. It was terrifying. He didn’t think he could get up this high, but he was, and still going. Mr. Armstrong was completely oblivious. Way off in the distance, the enormous disc began to retract. He paused at the door latch of the rocket, watching the disc disappear in the distance, as two space boots landed just next to the door, two arms awkwardly grabbed him by the waist, and before he could tell what was happening, flying back and away toward the portable bubble. Alex had landed, grabbed, and jumped back, more or less, in one fluid motion. Mr. Armstrong couldn’t do anything as they soared back down and away from the rocket. Elon and Kathy were just outside the airlock, ready to catch both of them, the detective just inside, waiting with Angelo, as Joe Stump scampered away through the cellar door and would have escaped down the tunnel had Jack not been there, biting the rear of his coveralls, bringing him to the ground.
“Y’all so difficult when you aren’t frozen!” he shouted.
***
Donald Leibowitz entered the Police radio room back in the Town of Silver Creek. “Sir,” began a younger officer.
“What is it?” said Mr. Leibowitz taking the seat next to him. The room was dimly lit, with only the radio’s display for light.
“We got a call from out near Biome 3.”
“Okay, patch it through.”
“Hey! Police? Police people. This is Brigadier Bolognese of the Spaghetti Squad, I’m also really named Angelo. Detective Galan Krantz told me to tell you bring some police people down here and quick. We got, like, two dozen corgis to thaw. Alright? Hello?”
The chief leaned over the microphone and flipped a switch on the intercom, “Slow it down there, young man. You say Detective Galan sent ya?”
“Yes, sir!” came the excited voice of Angelo.
“We’ll be down straight away. You tell him good job from the rest of us.”
“You got it sir, over and out!” Without having switching off the radio, the Chief and the young policeman couldn’t help but smile, listening to the young Brigadier scamper away.
Mr. Leibowitz got back to his feet and straightened his uniform, “Alright, get a few of the lads to grab the wagons and meet us down at Biome 3. We got some corgis to bring home.”
***
The blue and red of the police lights reflected off the inner dome of the portable bubble, with the officers having promptly found their way to the tunnel. Joe Stump and Mr. Armstrong, hands synched, sat
in the back of the paddy wagon with twelve unfrozen corgis; twelve unfrozen corgis who were not at all pleased with these two men in particular.
All the policemen gathered around the young Spaghetti Squad, Kathy hugged and hugged Jack, and this time Jack didn’t squirm away. Angelo explained how he had managed to practically take down Joe Stump single-handedly. Elon was elaborating on how the heating duct systems must lead all around beneath the moon and likely how the captors had been stealing dogs. He even mused that it could have been how Jack escaped as well, he even believed Jack may have been what spooked Joe Stump to roll over the junker in the first place, but without Jack to confirm, they’d never know.
Alex sat next to Detective Galan Krantz for the last chat they would have before the detective returned to Moon City. “You’re not bad at this whole detective gig, ya know that?”
With all the excitement of the day, and the arrival of the police, Alex was still wearing his space suit, without the helmet of course. “Thanks, um…”
“Call me Galan,” said the detective.
“Thanks, Galan,” Alex muttered, trying out the name.
“Ya know,” began the detective, “it’s tough growing up. I’ve seen a lot of things in my line of work, and here’s what I know. There are all kinds of families out there.”
Alex nodded along and then stopped, “And?” he asked.
“That’s it,” answered Galan.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing really, just that there are all kinds of families is all. This one seems like a good one.”
Alex looked across the patch of moon encased in a bubble within a bubble, his cousin reunited with Jack, Elon and Angelo gesturing wide and explaining who knows what. Two paddy wagons full of corgis pulled away and down. Then Alex’s eyes wandered over the tall, now empty, cargo rocket, standing solitary in the vacuum of space, well, a bubble with a hole in it anyways.
