Brass Monkeys (21 page)

“Do
better,”
hissed Ming. “Find Eugene Wise or I swear I’ll send you back to that stinky little school in Kansas.
Principal
Devos,” she added sarcastically.

“I was a good principal,” gurgled Devos.

“Oh please. You were the worst!” cried Ming. “You hated the students and you hated the teachers. You were such a bad little man in Kansas, Franklin, but simply perfect for us down here. Now, go find the boy and that wretched book!”

She shoved him violently away and Devos nearly fell. He recovered, then limped angrily out the door while the others laughed themselves silly.

“For some reason,” said Ming, “I think the wheat bug might be right.” She stopped laughing. “That rash boy might very well be headed here because all afternoon I’ve had the strangest sensation—that I was smelling some new, delightful Amberlight.” She snapped around and looked right in my direction. “Could it be Eugene’s?”

For a terrifying moment I thought Ming had seen me, but she hadn’t. She was simply looking at the kids. Now she raised her arms in an all-embracing gesture.

“Welcome, Grindsville students! Welcome to my school! I hope you’re nicely settled in and feeling anxious and unhappy! That’s it, look at me!”

The crowd lowered their eyes from the dancing monkeys and stared blankly at Ming. I watched helplessly as Harriet did the same, but I noticed immediately that she did more than lower her eyes. She shifted about nervously and then passed a hand over her eyes as if trying to clear the cobwebs.

“Aren’t those brass fellows fascinating?” Ming cried. “Such interesting patterns, those unhappy shifting monkey scenes of your past. But now we’ve come to the most important three days of your lives, when all those bad educational moments will come together to stamp themselves forever on your tiny minds.”

Ming paced in front of the stands while Strobe and Fundabore watched with faint smirks. Meanwhile, I hugged the stanchion, fear pounding through me.

“Up above in Grindsville you were prepared well,” Ming continued. “The school was ugly, sterile, and wonderfully
gloomy
. The rooms were nicely boxy and crowded, and the teachers magnificently depressed and spiritless. When my friends and I arrived, we did the best we could to make it worse! We drove out the good teachers and brought in some deliciously disturbed people. Then there was our little black and yellow paint job, which I believe was a true inspiration and certainly enhanced the depressing quality of the place. And did your parents ever protest, or actually try to intervene? They did not! Their lovely heads were occupied with TV and other important trivia. All in all, it was the best possible spot to educate your tender young minds. And now, I’m simply going to finish the process.”

“In our three fantastic classrooms I’m going to show you the real meaning of confusion, boredom and fear—the grand ingredients of a true education. And then, as a special surprise,
on your third day
I’m going to show you my secret classroom where we’ll take your Amberlight as a little memento of your trip down here. But now, on to our first hour class!”

Fundabore snapped his fingers and a spotlight came on, revealing a drone band seated in the far corner of the gym. He gave them a downbeat in his usual stiff manner and they began the awful “March of the Midnight Scholars.”

The kids in the stands began moaning and crying softly. I felt the same way, and I had to clamp a hand over my mouth. The drone band thundered into the main part of the march and my heart beat like a fiery hammer against my ribs.

I thought at any moment I was going to lose control and simply go nuts. The band reached a climatic moment in the music, and Ming opened her arms to the kids and beckoned to them.

“Come down to me, students. Don’t be frightened. We’re going to some special classrooms now. And let’s begin with Section A!” cried Ming. “Please stand for me!”

The kids in the section opposite to Harriet’s stood and began marching down to the gym floor. I watched fearfully as Strobe and Fundabore began leading them out through the doors. There was something so hideous about it that I wanted to cry out, “Don’t go! Don’t go!”

I bit my hand to keep from yelling and simply watched helplessly as the kids marched into the hallway. The drone band fell in behind the throng and seconds later they had all disappeared.

Only Ming remained. She strode back toward Harriet’s group.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered loudly, “I haven’t forgotten Section B. Do you know why I’m saving Section B for last? I’m saving it because you’re in it, Harriet Grove. My favorite little critic from Grindsville.”

Harriet continued to stare ahead helplessly.

“How exciting it’s going to be when I take your Amberlight,” Ming whispered loudly. “And yours too, Alvin and Walter.”

She was looking to Harriet’s left, so I knew the guys were close by. Then, laughing, Ming minced across the wavy gym floor and disappeared through the door.

I held on tightly to the stanchion for a few more seconds and then let go, slumping to the floor like a rag doll.

It was deathly quiet in the gym. On the stage curtain the brass monkeys continued to flit about. I simply sat for a few moments, listening to my rapid breathing. Then I sat up straight. Even with fear still swirling through me, I knew this was my chance to make a move. All I had to do was walk to the door in the pipe and turn the wheel … Then down the pipe and find McGinty. It would be easy.

“C’mon, son,” I whispered. “Time to make your move.”

Holding the trumpet tightly in one sweaty hand, I got to my feet and inched out into the alleyway between the stands. Then I started slowly toward the wavy floor. I took a timid step out onto the floor and glanced up into the stands. I saw Harriet and a shock went through me.

She was looking right at me. Alvin and Weeser sat slumped to her left, their eyes locked on the glimmering patterns on the curtain. Slowly, Harriet raised her hand in a last desperate call for help. I knew right then that my original plan was a fizzle. I couldn’t leave Harriet and the others in that building. Not now.

Without a solid thought in my head, I bounded up the steps toward her. Alvin and Weeser never blinked, but Harriet watched me the whole way.

“Harriet,” I whispered, stopping directly in front of her. The kids sitting near her didn’t seem to notice me at all. She didn’t move, but deep in those golden-brown eyes I saw a look of recognition. “It’s me.”

“Eugene?” She spoke slowly. She stared at the trumpet in my hand, and her eyes began to gleam faintly. “It is you.”

In the next instant my arms were around her and I was holding her tightly. The monkey fur on her forehead brushed my cheek.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” I said. “Can you understand me?”

I felt her nod weakly. I stood quickly and reached over to shake Alvin’s shoulder, then Weeser’s, but they wouldn’t look at me. I squeezed in front and got right in their furry faces and shook them hard.

“C’mon Weeser, Alvin. You’ve gotta help me here.”

Harriet got up and moved slowly, painfully, to my side. “No,” she whispered. She reached over and took Alvin by the hand and gently pulled at him. He rose like an obedient giant. Now she did the same thing with Weeser.

“Great,” I said to her. “Just keep moving and follow me.”

That’s how we went down the steps, me leading slowly with Harriet pulling Alvin and Weeser along. All the way down a little voice kept shouting at me, “You fool, what are you doing? This is never going to work. How are you ever going to get them into the drainage pipe?”

Crawling along like that, we must have looked like a zombie basketball team who’d left their fifth player at home. The pipe looked about a mile away, and we hadn’t gone three feet before I heard the low, throaty sounds of the Stormies.

Then Ming’s voice drifted in from the hallway.
They were coming back
.

“Back!” I hissed at Harriet. “Back!” Frantically, I began tugging at her arm.

She seemed to know something was wrong and helped draw Alvin and Weeser along. With me pushing and shoving like a madman, I managed to get them into the shadowy area of the bleacher alley.

Just then, several Stormies strode in and began handing out small cups filled with some liquid. One of the Stormies barked out, “Zorca time!” It was the tranquilizer they had used back in Grindsville. While they were handing the stuff around, I slowly eased Harriet, Alvin, and Weeser farther back and pulled them, one by one, under the bleachers.

I figured we were safe for a moment, but then the Stormies began lumbering about in the stands, passing out cups, and I knew in a few moments they’d be right overhead.

I thought of trying to go outside, but I knew the minute we did the camera would spot us. I could hear the Stormies working their way up the stands and a terrible panic surged through me.

Where could we hide? I turned suddenly and hit my mouth on a metal stanchion. Normally I would have screeched and danced around like a nitwit, but this time I had to hold it in. While the pain raged through me, Harriet and the guys just stood there, staring at nothing, but it was through my tears of pain that I actually spotted the small door at the far end of the bleachers. I had no idea where it led, but right at that moment it seemed like the door to heaven, if I could just get my zombie ball team over there.

I gestured for Harriet to follow and somehow we got Alvin and Weeser moving again. As we inched our way toward the door, I could hear the Stormies rustling around and coming up to the next row, the one right overhead.

I grabbed the door handle and the door swung open, revealing a small storage room. In the dim light I could see a bunch of folding chairs, a speaker’s podium, and an old movie projector. Quickly, I pushed Weeser inside. Harriet seemed to understand what was going on and went in without any urging. The bleachers creaked and groaned.

Two Stormies were right overhead.

I pushed Alvin, trying to get him inside, but he refused to move. I shoved harder. It was like trying to move a cement truck. He wouldn’t budge. The Stormies were laughing about something and some Zorca splashed down onto the floor. They were going to see us. There was no doubt in my mind.

I leaned into Alvin with all my might and whispered in his ear, “Move, you big fardex!” Slowly he inched his way toward the door. Harriet reached out and took his hand and pulled him inside. In a flash, I leaped in and eased the door shut.

For a moment we stood like dazed sheep. A shaft of light streamed in through a window in a second door at the other end of the storage room. The dusty beam fell right on the old film projector that sat on a rolling cart.

I scuttled over to the second door and peered out the window. I found myself staring into a steamy hallway filled with bustling Stormies. At that moment the floor shuddered with the same sound of heavy machinery as before, followed by that piercing scream. The mist cleared for a moment, and I saw a moving passenger sidewalk that ran the length of the hall. Evidently it was this steam-driven walkway, stopping and starting, that caused all the racket.

It began moving forward now with a loud rumble, and riding into view I could see the Grindsville kids from Section A, guarded by Stormies whose whips were cracking loudly.

While I stood there, I heard a wheezy moan from Weeser. I glanced over in time to see him slump to the floor and begin throwing up. Or at least he was trying, because nothing was coming up.

“What is it?” I whispered to Harriet, but she only shook her head mutely, then groaned and sank to a sitting position. Now Alvin fell forward on his knees and began to retch. Weeser started drumming his feet wildly on the floor.

I moved over quickly and tried to hold him down. I was terrified the Stormies would hear him. Alvin doubled up now and his feet lashed out.

“Alvin, quit it!” I hissed. Trying to smother Weeser’s heels with my body, I grabbed Alvin’s legs and held on for dear life. As I jounced about, I found Harriet staring at me. She tried to say something, but only one word came out—”Zorca.”

In a flash, I understood. That’s why the Stormies were handing it out. It kept the kids in their trance, and if they didn’t get it they went into a withdrawal fit.

“What can I do?” I asked Harriet desperately.

She shook her head and bent over, holding her stomach. For the next several minutes the three of them continued to retch dryly and periodically thrash about in pain. I was pretty much helpless. At one point, Alvin kicked me in the stomach and Weeser elbowed me on the chin.

While all this was happening one horrible thought kept swirling through my head: how would I ever get into the drainage pipe while hauling along my zombie team? “No way,” I muttered. “It can’t be done.” Trying to rescue them now had been a fatal error.

At last the three of them seemed to overcome their nausea. They stopped groaning and holding their stomachs. Harriet looked at me and smiled faintly.

“That was so awful,” she whispered.

I unscrewed Ray’s canteen and handed it to her. “Maybe this will help a little.”

She took a few swallows and then nodded gratefully. “That’s so good.” She was looking at the monkey fur on her hands and I could see her lips trembling.

“What’s happened to us?”

Before I could answer, Weeser piped up, his voice hoarse from disuse. “I could use some of that water.” He was sitting up, his glasses hanging crookedly.

“Weese,” I said, scootching over to him quickly and handing him the canteen. I popped his glasses into place. “How you feeling, buddy?”

He didn’t drink, but only stared strangely at Harriet and Alvin. “I feel like an elephant sniffed me, snuffed me, and shot me out his behind.” He reached down and touched the fur on his hands.
“And now I’m a stupid monk—?
“

I managed to clap my hand over his mouth in time to stifle the last part.

Just then, Alvin let out a groan and sat up. “Coach, I hate dodgeball,” he mumbled. “And I hate getting hit in the head, ‘cause then I feel.” He looked at Weeser and Harriet and his eyes widened. “I feel like a big, furry monkey butt!”