A Whole Nother Story (11 page)

Mr. Cheeseman and the children watched as Buck stood up and walked off into the darkness in the direction he had come.

“What do you think, Dad?” said Jough. “He seems like a nice enough guy.”

“As long as Pinky likes him we’re okay.”

A few moments later, Buck returned and sat down on the rock once more. He didn’t seem to have anything more than when he had left, but his right hand was closed tightly. He opened it to reveal three beautifully crafted Native American arrowheads.

“Wow,” said Maggie, the archer in her coming alive. “Are those . . . ?”

“They sure are. I’ve found quite a few of ’em over the years. I’d like each of you to have one.”

“This is a fabulous gift, Mr. Weston,” said Maggie, taking a small reddish brown arrowhead. “I’ve studied archery for years but I’ve never held a real handmade arrowhead before. It’s going to be my personal good-luck charm.”

“Me too,” said Gerard.

“That’s awfully nice of you, Buck,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “I think we should give you something in return. A good-luck charm for the contest.”

Mr. Cheeseman walked to the car, opened the back, and unzipped a dark green duffel bag. He returned holding a red necktie. On the necktie the letter
U
had been stitched hundreds of times in bright yellow thread.

“This is my lucky necktie. I’ve had it since college. I know it’s not much to look at and I wouldn’t expect you to wear it, but if you keep it with you, maybe it’ll bring you the same kind of luck it’s brought me over the years. The letter
U
is the symbol for uranium, which I’ve always found to be one of the luckier elements.”

“That is mighty nice of you, Mr. Cheeseman. I’ll take all the luck I can get these days. You know, you folks have been awfully kind and I sure would like to stay and get to know you better, but I really should hit the road. I’ve got a lot of poems to write between here and Montana.”

Ethan and the children said their good-byes to yet another friend they were all but certain they would never see again.

They climbed into the tents, into their sleeping bags, and fell asleep with their bellies full of marshmallows and good-luck charms beneath their pillows.

CHAPTER 15

T
he only problem with driving through the middle of nowhere with Agent El Kyoo at your side is that he just happened to be a notorious backseat driver, a problem exacerbated by the fact that he did all of his backseat driving from the front seat. And though the benefits of unsolicited advice are too numerous to name, I would like to go on record as saying that it should never be given to someone who is behind the wheel of a car, as it is quite possible it will result in advanced levels of irritation and, in extreme cases, punching. And, as Aitch Dee navigated the gray car down the tortuous highway, El Kyoo’s driving hints were beginning to drive him absolutely crazy.

“Watch for ice,” said El Kyoo, reading the road sign as they whizzed by it.

“It’s June,” said Aitch Dee. “I doubt we’ll be encountering any ice.”

“Sorry. Just trying to be helpful.” Ten minutes of silence passed before El Kyoo spoke up again. “Sharp turn ahead.”

“I can read,” said Aitch Dee, an almost audible strain in his otherwise expressionless voice. “Now, I would appreciate it if you would please keep quiet and let me concentrate on the road.”

“Sure, no problem. By the way, how do we know we’re going the right way?”

“We don’t. We’re working on our best assumption based on the intelligence gathered from satellite surveillance. Plus, there have been several reported sightings of them in this area.”

“I see. Watch out for livestock,” said El Kyoo, pointing to another road sign.

“All right, that’s it,” said Aitch Dee, his voice finding a new register for the first time since going to work for the top secret government agency.

“You’re in violation of Section 18 Jay regarding emotional outbursts,” said El Kyoo. “Just so you know.”

“I don’t care,” said Aitch Dee in a singsongy voice. “I’m sick and tired of your backseat driving. I don’t need you to tell me to watch out for ice, sharp turns, livestock, or the queen of England, okay? It’s June seventeenth, it’s seventytwo degrees in the shade, and I doubt very much that a cow is suddenly going to sprint out in front of the—”

“Livestock,” said El Kyoo, pointing dead ahead, his eyes wide as saucers.

“What did I just say?” said Aitch Dee. “I don’t need you to—”

With that, El Kyoo forgot all about Section 18 Jay and let out a very emotional scream, his eyes increasing in size from that of mere saucers to full-sized dinner plates.

Aitch Dee looked back to the road to see, standing directly in the middle of it, a very large and very sturdylooking Tibetan yak. Aitch Dee stomped hard on the brake pedal and the car skidded toward the yak, which just looked at the car with a face that seemed to say “Huh?”

With the sound of crunching metal, the car struck the yak. The stunned animal rolled up onto the hood and against the windshield. A shower of broken glass rained down on Aitch Dee and El Kyoo as the yak continued rolling up over the roof of the car with a thunderous crunch. It fell to the pavement with a thud as the car went into a violent spin, making several complete rotations, finally coming to stop on the side of the road amid a cloud of dust.

“What happened?” said Aitch Dee, when he finally regained his breath.

“I think . . . ,” said El Kyoo, panting heavily. “I think we hit a cow.”

“That was no cow,” said Aitch Dee.

“Then what was it?”

“I’m not sure. It looked like a bull with long hair.”

Aitch Dee opened his door, letting in no small amount of dust. He barked out a cough and climbed out to assess the damage to the car while El Kyoo walked back to assess the damage to the yak, which was lying motionless against a road sign. The sign read
Watch for Falling Rock.

The front end of the car was badly damaged. The headlights were smashed and steam poured out from beneath the dented hood. Aitch Dee tried to open the hood but it was too badly mangled.

“It won’t open,” said Aitch Dee as he looked back to see El Kyoo carrying a very large rock toward the yak.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m making it look like an accident,” said El Kyoo in a steady tone.

“It
was
an accident,” said Aitch Dee. “Now put that rock down and give me a hand with the hood.”

El Kyoo sighed and set the rock on top of the yak, then walked back toward the car. As he did, Aitch Dee went white and pointed in El Kyoo’s direction.

“Bull,” is all he could manage.

“It’s a bull, I get it,” said El Kyoo. “You don’t have to rub it in. And if you keep insisting on violating Section—”

“No, I mean . . .
run
!”

El Kyoo spun around to see that not only was the yak not dead, it was also not very happy at having been struck by a speeding car and then having a rock dropped on top of it. It was standing and snorting loudly, its narrow eyes trained on El Kyoo’s soft, bowling-pin-shaped body.

“Easy now,” said El Kyoo in as soothing a voice as one can make without the use of inflection. “No reason to get excited here.”

The yak wholeheartedly disagreed and charged. El Kyoo spun on his heel and ran back toward the car with the highly agitated yak right on his heels.

“Don’t run this way!” yelled Aitch Dee.

The yak chased Aitch Dee and El Kyoo around the car, lap after lap, kicking up dust and getting so close that El Kyoo swore he could feel the animal’s breath on his tender backside.

“It’s no use,” panted El Kyoo. “I’m too out of shape. I can’t run anymore.”

“I don’t think we’ve got much of a choice here.”

It would be only a matter of seconds before the two men, completely out of breath, were gouged by the yak’s pointy conical horns. They had three choices as Aitch Dee saw it. The first was to stop running and try to reason with the yak.

“Excuse me, but please accept our sincerest apologies for running you over with our car. Allow us to present you with this coupon for a free bale of hay as compensation for your troubles.” Not likely.

The second choice they had was to fall to the ground and roll beneath the car, which is a viable option if you are shaped like a kite but not if you are shaped like a bowling pin. The third possible course of action was to climb on top of the car, out of reach of the yak.

“Follow me,” yelled Aitch Dee as he dove onto the hood and then climbed up to the car’s dented roof. El Kyoo leaped onto the hood as well, just as the yak took a swipe, tearing out the seat of his gray pants.

“That was close,” said El Kyoo as he joined Aitch Dee on the roof. “But he’s ruined my pants.”

“You’re lucky that’s all he ruined. Nice baby blue underwear, by the way.”

“They were a gift,” said El Kyoo. “From my mother.”

“That’s weird,” said Aitch Dee.

Having the agents out of reach did not make the yak very happy. In fact, it only frustrated it to the point of repeatedly ramming the side of the already dented gray car.

Blam! Blam! Blam!

El Kyoo and Aitch Dee held each other tightly as the yak ran its horns into the car over and over, hoping to knock the agents from the safety of their perch.

“Do something!” yelled Aitch Dee. “He’s destroying the car.”

“Do what?” said El Kyoo calmly.

“I don’t know, shoot him!”

“I refuse to shoot a defenseless animal.”

“Does he look defenseless to you?” said Aitch Dee.

“Look,” said El Kyoo, pointing down the highway in the direction they had come. “A car. They can help us.”

The two men waved their hands above their heads and yelled at the top of their lungs, as if the sight of a Tibetan yak ramming the side of a car wouldn’t be enough to get someone’s attention.

“Hey,” Aitch Dee yelled. “Stop! Help!”

But the little brown car did not stop. It only slowed down briefly as the driver honked the horn and stuck his head out the window.

“Hey, fellows. Do not have a cow!”

Pavel cackled uncontrollably as Leon took time out from feeding his beloved fish to stick his head out the other window and call out in his best yak impression, “They said terrible things about your mother!”

The yak, not happy to hear this, continued its assault on the car with renewed vigor as Aitch Dee and El Kyoo watched the little brown car disappear around the bend.

“I hate that guy,” said Aitch Dee.

The yak continued to batter one side of the car until it looked as though it had taken last place in a demolition derby. When its shape resembled that of a boomerang, the yak finally stopped, turned, and lumbered into the pasture across the road.

CHAPTER 16

D
o we have to camp out again tonight?” asked Maggie as the station wagon rattled down the highway, slightly to the left of the middle of nowhere. “I’d like a chance to wash my hair and to sleep in a real bed.”

“Okay,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “But I’m afraid that might mean a little extra time in the car.” Mr. Cheeseman and his family had been driving all day and Gerard’s arms and legs were becoming more and more fidgety. Even Jough had had just about enough.

“I think I’d rather camp out again than have to ride in this car anymore.”

“I know and I’m sorry,” said Mr. Cheeseman, sensing he might soon have a mutiny on his hands. “Just hang in there a little longer. There’s a town coming up in about an hour. We’ll find a motel and spend the night there.”

“Sounds great,” said Jough. “But are you sure it’s safe?”

“Pinky hasn’t growled in more than a day,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “Looks like we gave ’em the slip.”

As the next hour dragged by, Maggie and Gerard passed the time by reading the license plates of other cars that whizzed by.

It should be noted that much can be learned by reading license plate slogans. For instance, you will learn that Arizona is the “Grand Canyon State,” which means that somewhere in Arizona there is a really large hole in the ground. Idaho, on the other hand, is the land of “Famous Potatoes,” which means there are a lot of little holes in the ground from which potatoes have been removed. And Minnesota is the “Land of Ten Thousand Lakes,” which suggests there are approximately that many holes in the ground all filled with water.

Yes, you can learn a great deal by reading license plate slogans, but when you’ve been in the car all day and on the run from secret government agencies, international super-spies, and evil weapons manufacturers for nearly two years, it can also become quite tedious.

Because of this, Mr. Cheeseman and his children were nothing short of delighted when finally they found themselves driving through the center of a smallish town with mostly smallish houses and quaint little shops, all closed up for the night.

Other than this rather vague description, there’s little else I can tell you about the town. Not because there isn’t more to tell, but because any further details might give away the town’s location. For the safety of Mr. Cheeseman and his family, the name of the town and its precise location must remain a secret, should this text fall into the wrong hands. What I will tell you is that the town was located somewhere in the western or eastern United States.

“This looks like a nice little town,” said Maggie. “Maybe we could make this our new home.”

“I don’t see why not,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “We’ll stay the night and see how things look in the morning.”

“That looks like it might be a good place to stay right there,” said Jough, pointing up ahead to a two-story white house with green shutters. It had a large front porch with a white porch swing and a wooden sign hanging above the door that read
Coral’s Bed-and-Breakfast.

“Sure, let’s give it a try,” said Mr. Cheeseman, pulling the station wagon into the crunchy gravel driveway.

“Okay, you kids wait here. If you see anyone suspicious, honk the horn and I’ll come running. Meanwhile, I’ll see if they can accommodate us,” said Mr. Cheeseman. He climbed out of the car, walked to the front door, and knocked. While he waited, he watched in amusement as several moths repeatedly ran headlong into the porch light. He wondered what they could possibly be thinking.

I happen to know exactly what they were thinking and it was this: “Wheeeeee! Ouch! Wheeeeee! Ouch! Wheeeeee! ”And so on.

No one answered, so Mr. Cheeseman again moved his knuckles toward the heavy wooden door of the large white house. Before they could connect the door opened, revealing an extremely plump woman in a shapeless pink dress with pale yellow flowers. She was sitting on a four-wheeled electric scooter. She unlatched the door, then backed the scooter up to make room for the door to open inward.

“Good evening,” said the woman. “Sorry to take so long to answer. I was in the study, watching the news. You know they captured two Bengal tigers at a miniature golf course in Utah?”

“You don’t say,” said Mr. Cheeseman.

“They wouldn’t report it if it wasn’t true. Luckily no one was hurt. Anyway, I’m Coral Bjornsen and this is my bed-and-breakfast. What can I do for you?”

“Well, my children and I were just passing through town and saw your place. We thought we might like to stay here for a day or two. We’ll be needing two adjoining rooms if you’ve got them.”

“I sure do,” said Coral. “In fact, the whole place is empty right this minute. Come on in and let’s get you registered.”

Coral backed the scooter up and slammed into the wall behind her, which had already been marred by several tire marks.

“Oh, freckles!” she said. “I’m still trying to get used to this crazy thing. I got it a couple of weeks ago after I had surgery.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Mr. Cheeseman, following Coral’s scooter down the hallway toward the office. “Everything okay?”

“Oh yes. Just my lower left wisdom tooth. Impacted, it was. Hopefully I’ll be back on my feet in a month or so.” Coral’s scooter collided with the wall on the way into the tiny office.

“Oh, bananas!” She backed up, straightened out, and drove into the office and over to the desk. Mr. Cheeseman straightened a picture on the wall before following her inside.

“Okay,” she said, opening the registration book. “Please have a seat while we get some information from you. Let’s start with your name.”

“Uh . . . Fred,” Mr. Cheeseman lied as he sat down in the small wooden chair across from Coral. “Fred . . . Stapler.”

Mr. Cheeseman tried hard not to look directly at the staple gun resting on Coral’s desk.

“Okay, Mr. Stapler. What’s your home address?”

“Home address?” said Mr. Cheeseman, who had never been very good at lying.

“Yes. I need a home address or I can’t rent you a room. It’s a very strict policy I’m afraid.”

“Yes, I understand,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “My home address is . . . 123 Main Street . . . New York, New York . . .54321.”

Mr. Cheeseman watched in amazement as Coral jotted down the address without batting an eye—or any other body part, for that matter.

“Home phone?”

“Yes, it’s, uh . . . 555-HOME.”

“Well, that’s pretty handy, isn’t it? Work phone?”

“It’s, uh . . . 555-WORK.”

“Well, you must know someone at the phone company.”

“Yes. My sister . . . Stacy.”

“Stacy Stapler?”

“Yes, that’s it,” Mr. Cheeseman lied once more.

Lying is never a good thing to do, but when you’re being hunted by evil people wishing to do you harm, it sometimes becomes necessary.

“Okay then,” said Coral. “Here are the keys to rooms four and five. They’re right down the hall on the left. Breakfast is served at eight o’clock. And we do have a strict no pets policy.”

“Well, that won’t be a problem. We don’t have any pets.”

“Good, because I am very allergic to dog and cat hair. As well as red peppers. But only if I eat them. The peppers, that is, not the dogs and cats. Which is not to say that I eat dogs and cats. I only meant that I could eat them without an allergic reaction. I mean, as far as I know, having never eaten one. But of course I never would. I mean, perhaps if I were stranded on a desert island and that’s all there was, then—”

“We’ll be paying cash,” said Mr. Cheeseman.

“Right,” said Coral.

As Mr. Cheeseman and the children settled in for the night, they found the rooms at the bed-and-breakfast to be small but very comfortable. In one room, there was a queen-size bed for Jough and Mr. Cheeseman as well as a daybed by the window, just long enough to fit Gerard’s short, fidgety body. The connecting room was smaller, with one twin bed for Maggie alone.

“It’s not fair,” said Gerard. “Why should she get her own room?”

“Yes, it’s not fair,” Steve agreed. “We want to have our own room.”

“You don’t need your own room, Steve. And neither do you, Gerard,” said Mr. Cheeseman, in no mood to argue. “Maggie is a girl and she needs her privacy. You’ll understand when you get older. Now let’s get our teeth brushed and get off to sleep.”

“Dad, what about Pinky?” Jough asked.

“She’ll be fine in the car.”

“But what if she senses danger? How will she be able to warn us?”

“I don’t know. They do have a strict no pets policy here. Coral, the owner, is very allergic to animal hair.”

“But Dad,” said Gerard. “Pinky has no hair, remember?”

“Hmm. You’re right,” said Mr. Cheeseman.

At roughly that same time, no more than forty miles away, in a similarly quiet town with similarly smallish houses and quaint shops, Aitch Dee and El Kyoo walked in from the highway, their feet swollen and sore and El Kyoo’s stomach growling angrily.

“Well, we made it,” said Aitch Dee. “We made it back to civilization.”

“My feet are numb,” said El Kyoo.

“I wish mine were numb. That would be an improvement over what they actually are. Now let’s find a place to stay. Tomorrow we can rent a car and get back on the trail of Mr. Cheeseman and that device of his.”

“I need food,” said El Kyoo. “I’m so hungry I could eat dirt.”

“You may have to eat dirt. This whole town seems to be closed down for the night.”

“Not quite,” said El Kyoo, pointing up ahead. “The lights are still on at that burger joint.”

The two hungry, weary men trudged down the small town’s main street toward the well-lit burger joint, a 1950s-style restaurant called Earl T’s Burger Barn. They were surprised to find the door locked and the place empty except for a young man in a paper hat, mopping the floor.

“Sorry,” said the young man, who stopped mopping long enough to yell loudly through the glass. “We close at eleven. Only the drive-through is open now.”

Aitch Dee and El Kyoo circled around the restaurant until they came to the drive-through. Aitch Dee tapped on the window and a few seconds later, a well-freckled young woman slid the window open.

“Hi, welcome to Earl T’s,” she said with confusion. “May I . . . help you?”

“Four double cheeseburgers, two orders of fries, a strawberry shake, and a chocolate shake,” said El Kyoo.

“And a salad for me,” said Aitch Dee.

“I’m sorry,” said the young woman. “But I can’t take your order.”

“What?” said El Kyoo, the panic in his voice almost detectable by the naked ear. “What do mean you can’t take our order?”

“You have to have a car to use the drive-through.”

“We have a car,” El Kyoo protested, his voice beginning to tremble. “We just don’t have it with us at the moment. It broke down out on the highway and we’re starving. Can’t you make an exception this once?”

“I’m sorry. It’s company policy. I could lose my job.”

“Is there any other place open in town?” asked El Kyoo hopefully.

“I’m afraid not.”

Before closing the window and locking it, the young woman managed to tell both El Kyoo and Aitch Dee to have a nice day, which was strange considering that it was almost midnight and the odds that this day could somehow turn out to be a nice one in the five or so remaining minutes seemed slim at best.

“Well, that’s it,” said Aitch Dee. “We’ll just have to eat in the morning. Right now let’s . . . what are you doing?”

El Kyoo was standing just to the side of the drive-through lane with his right thumb extended upward.

“She didn’t say we had to
own
a car to use the drive-through,” he said.

“You’re going to hitchhike through the drive-through?”

“I told you, I’m starving,” snapped El Kyoo.

“You know you’re in violation of Section 18 Jay?”

“Can we just forget about that stupid section?” said El Kyoo, years of emotion rising to the surface. “It’s a stupid rule anyway!”

“Well,” said Aitch Dee. “Okay. I won’t report you if you don’t report me.”

Before El Kyoo could agree, he spotted a long black car with tinted windows driving slowly toward them.

“Look! I knew someone would come along.” El Kyoo smiled and tried to look as friendly as possible but the car did not stop for them and proceeded on to the order window. The four men in the black car hadn’t even noticed the hungry government agents, as three of them were engaged in a meaningful discussion about the subtle differences between crunching and munching while the fourth man turned up the radio to try and drown them out.