Brass Monkeys (17 page)

The Stormies let out a yell and raced after her. Lilah ran hard and she was fast, too. I jumped out of the van, but instead of running I stood there watching, frozen with fear. Two of the faster Stormies overtook Lilah and threw her to the ground. She got up and struggled wildly. One of the Stormies lashed out with his fist and Lilah sank to her knees. She glanced my way, then signed a last, quick message that I didn’t understand. The Stormies turned and saw me.

I gasped and fell into some kind of weird panic. I dropped the test gun, picked it up, then remembered my trumpet and grabbed that, too. I turned and started running for the stage, the book flopping inside my tunic. But for some stupid reason, I wasn’t running fast at all. I felt like I was in a dream. I had just passed the corner of the stage when I heard a Stormie scream out, “Get him! It’s Wise!”

Something about hearing my real name electrified me, and all at once everything came into focus. With a yell you could have heard all the way back home, I began running like a wild man. I blundered around the corner of the stage, descended a slight slope, then found myself out in the desert. Without a thought in my head, I ran swiftly, heading for the same small hills into which McGinty had disappeared.

For the briefest time nothing happened behind me. Then the horde must have broken around the corner of the stage, because it sounded like the entire Stormie army was after me. With their guttural screams and the sound of their bells echoing in my ears, I gritted my teeth and ran toward the first sand hill.

Just before I reached it, I saw the erasers whiz past me. I stumbled around the base of the hill and again my pursuers were temporarily lost to view. What I did next probably saved my life.

Instead of running straight ahead, I dodged to my right around another dune. That was enough to throw them off my trail for a few precious seconds.

I turned, angling into the hills. I strained to make my legs go faster, but the sand seemed to be pulling me down. I looked desperately for a place to hide and saw nothing but a few cactus-like plants.

I began to slow down. Sweat poured off my face and my breath came in ragged gasps. Somewhere along here I must have dropped the test gun. My head drooped lower and my eyes were blurring. That’s when I noticed something really weird … I
had four legs
.

The two new legs pumped right alongside my own, and slowly I realized they were not mine. I came to a stop and stood swaying in the heat.

An African-American kid about my own age stood there, eyeing me with a grin.

“Not bad,” he said. “You trying out for the track team or the school band?”

I stared at him. I knew I was hallucinating. It was as if all my old comic books had suddenly come alive. Then the kid moved and paper rustled and I realized he was actually wearing clothes made of
old comics
. His shirt was mainly Spider Man, while his shorts were all about the Incredible Hulk. His hat was this comical, four-cornered thing that featured the Fantastic Four. On top of all that, he had some inky tattoos on his face and arms.

“Are you Mc … Mc …?” I tried to say ‘McGinty,’ but my lips were too dry.

He laughed softly. “I’m nobody, man. Just a wild old desert kid.” He began moving rapidly around me, spreading out on the ground what appeared to be a piece of green and tan cloth.

“Desert kid?” I repeated dumbly. I could hear the sound of bells now and I opened my mouth in warning, but he knew what I was going to say.

“Oh, yeah, the Storm dudes are coming, but don’t worry man, ‘cause at any moment I’ll turn into the Hulk and tear ‘em limb for limb.” He flexed his biceps. “I’m turning green!” Then he chuckled and said, “Kidding!”

I turned and thought about running, but he held out a hand.

“Hey, relax. In two seconds you’re going to be invisible. Keep your trumpet down alongside your leg so it won’t stick out.”

He lifted the bottom edge of the cloth, which had weights attached to it, and began spinning the whole thing so that it opened like a parachute.

“I got just one question,” he said as he whirled it over my head, “and it’s killing me. Have you got any ballpoint pens on you?”

I nodded. I knew I still had one in my inside shirt pocket.

His face lit up with a huge grin. “Flame on, man!”

He dropped the whirling cloth over me and immediately the weights wrapped the whole thing tightly around my body.

“Just stand real still,” whispered the boy. “You ain’t got no problems now. You’re a cactus!”

I heard the sound of more weights being twirled around and then the sound of the cloth wrapping itself tightly. I figured my new friend had just covered himself and none too soon, because the first of the Stormies came raging around the hill.

The cloth was so thin I could see the Stormies’ faces as they raced past. After a few seconds of silence, a second group went by, followed by several Stormies on those weird motorcycles with the frames made from football-tackling dummies.

When the racket died down, my companion said in a low voice, “Whoee, Storm boys on their wacko bikes. Old Ming-daddy must want you real bad.”

“She does,” I said. “She hates me.”

“Usually she doesn’t get that excited about a runaway drone.”

“I’m not a drone,” I replied.

There was a startled pause. “Waitaminnit! Holy Aunt Petunia … I know who you are! You’re the kid who was on the big Zorca screen this morning. Am I right?” I heard my companion rustling around as he took off his camouflage. Then suddenly mine was twirled off and I took a deep gulp of air.

He was grinning at me. “You’re him, ain’t you? I never got close enough to the screen to get the details, but I had my binoculars and I sure saw your face.”

“Yeah, I’m him,” I said.

“Put ‘er there, pardner,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Otis Ray Lavar, but most people call me Ray or Raymondo, if they know me pretty good.”

“Eugene,” I said, shaking hands. “But down here I’m sort of known as Billy Bumpus.”

“Billy Bumpus! That’s a good name for you. You looked like old Bumpus coming through the sand with your trumpet and half the Stormie army after you.”

“Was that you,” I said, “at the band shell?”

“You got it, man. It was me.”

I gave him a puzzled stare. “What were you doing there?”

“Just hanging around, checking out stuff. I’m always on the look-out for things I can use—you know, clothes, food, whatever.”

He was quickly gathering up both pieces of camouflage cloth and stuffing them into a large knapsack.

“How come you ran like you did?” I asked.

“How come? Whoee, don’t be dumb! I saw the Stormies’ dust way before you guys did. Plus, I didn’t know who you were. You acted really strange to me, yelling out McGinty’s name and tootin’ your horn. If there’s one thing I’ve learned down here, it’s that you don’t trust people until you know what’s the what. ‘Course, after I saw you were being chased by the Stormies, and you were a kid like me, I figured I should help you out.” He gave me a sly look. “So, you mind telling me why you’re looking for McGinty?”

I hesitated.

“Hey, it’s all right,” he said, quickly. “You don’t need to tell me. I was just curious. Later on, if you feel you can trust me, well, you can go into it then.”

I shook my head. “No, I trust you right now. You risked your life for me, Ray, and you need to know exactly what’s going on. I’m looking for McGinty because I need help getting my friends out of Ming’s school. And also I’ve got something that belongs to him—something really important that he wants.” I pulled out the book with the red cover and held it up.

Ray’s eyes got big. His mouth formed several words, but he couldn’t seem to get one of them out. He took a few steps off, then turned quickly. “Holy Crow,” he burst out. “That’s McGinty’s old
Brass Monkeys
deal, ain’t it?”

I stared at him in astonishment. “How did you know that?”

“How’d I know? Listen, about two weeks back I happened to meet McGinty himself, along with this raggedy old geography teacher named Webster.”

Now my eyes got big. “You saw them? They were here?”

“Absoltootly they were here. And that book was all they talked about.”

I tried to control my excitement. “So you know where McGinty is, right? Ray, you gotta tell me!”

But Ray frowned and looked off. “Sshhh!” he said. He held up a warning hand. At first I heard nothing, then the faint sound of bells drifted in over the sand hills.

“They’re circling back,” whispered Ray grimly. “Now I understand why so many of the Stormies are after you. Man, we gotta rock out of here and I mean now.”

Ray led the way in a flat-out run through the hills while I desperately tried to stay up with him. I kept my arm tight against my side, trying hard to keep the book from popping out of my tunic.

“Where are we going?” I gasped.

“My hideout, man. Where else?”

Finally, after climbing a steep hill, Ray darted in among a clump of the cactus-like plants and motioned for me to hit the ground. I flopped down and rolled onto my back, barely managing to keep the trumpet out of the sand. I could feel my heart beating right down to my toes.

“We’ll hole up here a second,” whispered Ray, “and get our breath. Gotta keep an eye out for old wacky Devos while we’re moving around like this.”

He peered around and I tried to look too, but sweat was in my eyes.

“Have you seen Devos before?” I gasped out.

He shot me a grim look. “Better believe it. That scary little dude flies over here all the time. They say he’s got eyes in the back of his head, and I believe it!”

I stared at him nervously. “So, you think we’re safe here?”

“Probably not. But ain’t we having fun?” Ray grinned at me.

I tried to grin back, but I was too tired and depressed.

Ray eyed my trumpet. “I never met a renegade carrying a trumpet before. I heard you playing at the shell, and you ain’t bad. I play the sax myself.”

“You do? That’s great.” I tried to say it with some enthusiasm, but I noticed my voice was flat. I turned over on my stomach and looked off over the sand hills. From this high point I could see all the way back to the ruins and the band shell. Stormie trucks were swarming around it.

Ray inched up beside me, holding a pair of worn-looking binoculars. “You’re worrying about your buddies, right?”

I nodded bleakly. Just hearing the word “buddies” made me feel sad and empty. I could still see Lilah’s last look in my direction and her signed message to me.
But what had she said?

Ray offered the glasses to me, but I shook my head. I didn’t want to see anything more. He nodded in understanding and took a look himself. “No sign of your friends,” he murmured. “Probably already on their way to Ming-daddy’s school. If they’re renegades, she’ll put ‘em through her three-day deal and then take their Amberlight, right along with your school buddies.”

I turned to stare at him.
“Their
Amberlight? I thought it was just the kids’ Amberlight she was after?”

He kept on looking through the glasses. “Naw. She takes it from adults, too. I guess they still have a little fire in the stove, even though they’re older. Anyway, the Storm boys drink it down and it makes them young and happy again. Or at least that’s what they say. Never seen a happy Stormie, though.”

Ray put the glasses down and eyed me. “We’re going to have to move fast Bumpus-man, and the first thing you should do is ditch that hot old tunic.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “I can hardly breathe.” I struggled out of the tunic.

Ray wrinkled his nose when he saw the Meat Loaf Special. “Whoee, that’s ugly. Look, ditch them orange cowboys and let me find you something better.”

He opened his big knapsack and began rustling around in it. He took out a wild-looking black and orange shirt that had a brightly-colored bird rising out of purple and reddish flames. “Put this on and you’ll be bad, old Bumpus-man!”

I grinned weakly, but I kind of liked the idea of being “bad.” The shirt was way too big for me, but it was lightweight and it felt good. Ray watched with approval as I buttoned it up and then slipped the book inside.

“Man, you’re the one,” he said. “I heard McGinty talkin’ to Webster about sending back this tough, slam-down kid. I guess I never thought Webby would be able to find one of the old tunnels and get out of here. No one else has.”

“You mean there’s more than one tunnel back to the surface?”

“Oh man, there’s tons of them. Stormies been digging them for years—you know, going up to hundreds of schools. But most of the tunnels are filled in, or too steep and dangerous to climb. Webby obviously found one he could climb and back he went. Then bingety bim, here you are!”

“Oh, yeah, bingety bim,” I said. “But I wonder how Webster was able to keep his memory after he got to the surface? Do you think he knew the memory trick?”

“Yeah,” said Ray, “I’m sure he knew it. Him and McGinty had all kinds of secrety talks about stuff like that. Wouldn’t let me in on it, though. All righty, better get a move on.”

He scrambled to his feet and away we went again. Going down the other side of the hill I was so off balance I fell face forward, plowing a neat little furrow with my chin. Somehow I kept the trumpet out of the sand and the book didn’t pop out. Ray came back and helped me up and we ran on, dodging the cactus-like plants. Ray finally signaled a halt at the base of a huge hill.

“Just about there,” he said excitedly. “Best little hideout in the world.”

“Where is it?” I croaked.

Ray motioned for me to follow and we went bounding up the side of the hill. Actually he bounded, and I sort of staggered along behind. As we went up, I started to see more and more of the surrounding desert. I stopped once to get my breath, and I could see the band shell and Adjana’s ruins off in the distance. There didn’t seem to be anything moving around them now. Way off on the horizon, I spotted Ming’s dark school. Finally I caught up with Ray near a clump of rocks.

“Here she is,” he said. He smiled broadly.