Escape from the Drooling Octopod! (13 page)

That's when they got the bad news. They pulled one of those rolling curtains open and nearly jumped out of their skin. There, lying on an operating table like a wrinkled Sleeping Beauty just a couple breaths this side of death, was Alana.

“What's wrong with her?” Scilla asked in a panic. “If she's sick, why isn't she in a real hospital?”

“I don't know,” Beamer said as he looked around.

“Are y'all thinking what I'm thinking?” Scilla asked, her eyes supersized. “What if her dad is not her dad at all but a mad scientist! I mean, maybe he's some kind of Dr. Frankenstein who's been doing weird experiments on her.”

“Come on, Scilla,” grumbled Beamer as he rolled his eyes. “That's crazy.”

“Yeah,” she shot back at him. “But that would explain how she got . . . uh, the way she is, wouldn't it?” she added, throwing the sleeping girl an uncomfortable look.

“Scilla, he's her father,” Beamer said, trying to calm her down. “He's not gonna dice up his daughter.”

“Are you sure about that?” she argued. “Come on, y'all; we've gotta get her outta here! Alana! Wake up, Alana!” she said, shaking the girl.

“Hey, Scilla,” Ghoulie said, pulling her away from Alana. “She's all wired up with sensors and an IV. We could accidentally do something homicidal if we're not careful.” He turned back to face a bank of screens. “I think these monitors are showing her vital statistics.”

“Hey, guys!” Beamer whispered loudly. “I found something.” He was thumbing through the pages of a note-book when the others joined him.

“It looks like some kind of research log,” Ghoulie said as he leaned over Beamer's shoulder.

“There's a date for each time he wrote something down,” Beamer said.

“Looks like he spilled something on the book about half-way through,” said Scilla.

Looking at the book edge, Beamer could see where the pages started getting wrinkled. He leafed through to the place where the wrinkling started. “You're right. It's all very neat and organized up to here. Whoa, the ink even gets smeared a lot from here on.”

“So what's that gotta do with anything?” Scilla asked, getting impatient. “We've gotta do something to get Alana out of here! He's drugged her or something.”

“Look at the date!” Beamer said, his finger planted under it. “Four years and two months ago.”

“There's a lot of formulas and stuff here,” Ghoulie said as he took over the book and thumbed through it. “Pages and pages of them,” he said, now flipping faster through the pages.

“Hey, what's that?” Beamer said, shoving his hand into the page to keep Ghoulie from turning any more. “ ‘Alana's aging process is beginning to accelerate.' ” Beamer twisted around to read. “ ‘She is moving toward old age like a time machine.' ”

“See! I told you,” Scilla exclaimed. “He's treating her like a lab rat, injecting her with stuff to make her get older faster.”

“What would be the point in that?” Beamer asked with a smirk. “Nobody wants to get old faster.” Beamer turned through several more pages of technical scrawls then stopped to read, “ ‘So far, nothing I have given her has worked. If I don't get results soon, she will stay locked in a growth pattern that will plunge her into a painful, early death.' See, he's trying to stop her from aging so fast.”

“She's dying?” Scilla asked in a choked voice.

Beamer turned a couple more pages. “ ‘I can't stand the thought of her suffering,' ” he read again. “ ‘I'm the one who caused this calamity; I'm the one who must save her from it.' ”

“How do you suppose he caused it?” Scilla asked worriedly.

“ ‘Each day I spent in tears, unable to sleep, hoping for a miracle,' ” Beamer continued to read. He turned a few more pages and stopped. “Look, this one is from only a week ago: ‘When she came home traumatized by the cruelty the neighborhood children had inflicted upon her — ' ”

“He's talking about us!” Scilla interrupted him.

“ ‘I knew that I had to take a chance on one more treatment.' ” Beamer kept on reading.

“What kinda chance?” Scilla asked, getting more and more agitated. In frustration, she took the book from Beamer and turned to the last page with writing on it. “ ‘I put her to sleep,' ” she read, “ ‘but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. One more treatment may be too much for her little body to stand.' ” Scilla finished reading. “He's gonna kill her!”

17

Bug Juice

“Come on, we've gotta go for help!” Scilla said as she pushed Beamer and Ghoulie toward the window. But Ghoulie slipped away for a closer view of the bank of monitors. He had seen enough cop shows with lab technicians glued to microscopes to recognize body cells. “I bet that's Alana's bloodstream up there in lights.”

“Ghoulie!” Beamer whispered a yell back at him as Scilla handed him the book and stepped through the window. “Let's get going!”

“That's funny,” Ghoulie mumbled after a moment's hesitation. “The date on the screen is nearly two months ago.” He punched a button and his face screwed up even more in puzzlement. But before he had time to think things through, Beamer dragged him to the window.

“Come on,” Beamer said as he pushed him through the window. “He could come back any time!”

They scrambled blindly through the tree looking for the tunnel. As high as they were, the branches were much thinner. The sun broke through the foliage in bright bursts, blinding them as they moved back and forth from shadow into light. They didn't get very far, though, before they knew something was wrong.

“Hey, I can't move!” Ghoulie yelped.

“Me neither!” Scilla squealed as she tried to pull her arms free.

“We're caught in a web,” Beamer yelled, “ — a big one!”

“Molgotha's got another web?” Scilla cried.

“Either that or she's twins,” Ghoulie groaned, remembering how Mrs. Drummond had turned out to be triplets.

They shouted for help until their voices turned to sandpaper. Nobody heard them.

One hour passed, then two. Beamer flinched every time a branch rocked or a gust of wind churned up the leaves. He was sure that Molgotha was coming for a few slurps of human juice.

Of course, you can be scared out of your wits for only so long. “Looks like we're going to be grounded again,” Beamer croaked with a crooked grin and a shrug. The sun was already dipping below the treetops.

“I wonder what we were going to have for dinner,” said Ghoulie.

“Considering our present predicament, that's not a good subject,” grumbled Beamer.

“I don't suppose we can hope that Molgotha is nice like Charlotte, the spider from
Charlotte's Web
?” Scilla asked dejectedly. “I was just beginning to look forward to my first better-than-average report card.”

“What are you worried about, Bruzelski?” asked Ghoulie. “There aren't enough juices in you for one good slurp. Molgotha will probably just step right over you.”

“So I'll just shrivel up from dehydration?” she shot back at him. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

“It's really not all that uncomfortable,” Beamer said as he wiggled to make the web bounce. “Sort of like sitting in a hammock.”

“Oh, good grief!” Ghoulie said with a huge sigh.

“Might as well catch up on my reading while I wait for dinner,” Beamer said as he raised Dr. Franck's book. Beamer was glued to the giant spiderweb from his elbows back, but his forearms and hands were free. It wasn't easy, but he managed to flip the pages to where the wrinkling started. He scrunched up his face thoughtfully: “Four years and two months ago, huh? Now that I think about it, that's about the time his wife died.”

Scilla jerked her head around and screwed up her face thoughtfully. “D'ya suppose those wrinkled pages and all those ink smears were caused by . . . tears?”

“That's what I think,” said Beamer as he struggled to turn a few more pages. “A few months later, the wrinkling gets less. Hey! Here's when he starts a new project. It's called, ‘Time Machine.' ”

“Whoa! That's pretty spooky,” Scilla said. “Isn't that what he called Alana's aging?”

No one said anything for several minutes. Then — “How long do you suppose before he finally decides to do whatever he's gonna do?” Scilla asked weakly, looking through the branches toward the dark attic window.

“Could be any time,” Beamer said. “He can't just leave her there sleeping forever.”

“Not that whatever he does is going to get us out of this predicament,” grumbled Ghoulie. “What's that?!” he cried out suddenly.

Beamer heard the panic in Ghoulie's voice. The web bounced a little and then a dark shadow crossed above them. They all screeched and screamed at once!

Some heavy-duty praying — at least a few moments of silence — might be appropriate for the demise of the Star-Fighters. And, of course, if they're gone, that's “all she wrote” for Alana. It might even make a good news story if anyone ever found their shriveled remains. Not too many people climb to the top of such tall trees these days. Their only chance of discovery might be a very low-flying plane or a kite caught in the tree — one expensive enough that someone would climb way up to retrieve it.

Beamer didn't see Molgotha's disgusting body looming above them. His eyes were closed as tightly as if he'd used superglue and a coat of cement. He wasn't doing much breathing either. Given a spider's usual diet of flies and small bugs, the kids must have looked pretty tasty to the old spider.

Beamer felt the heat of the beast. A leg brushed him. Panic was building inside him like a time bomb. The web shook and jolted, but then the shaking and rustling began to fade. He should have been a cocoon by now, but he didn't feel like it. He peeped one eye open and looked around. “Hey, guys, where'd she go?”

“Shut up,” said Scilla with a voice that sounded more like a squeak. “You'll draw her attention to us.”

“No, I mean it,” said Beamer as he opened both eyes. “She's gone!” That's when he almost fell. “Aii!” he yelped as the strands of web beneath him broke off. He grabbed a branch and held on. Then he smiled. “She cut us free!”

“What?” asked Ghoulie, who suddenly flipped over. “Yiii!” he screeched as he dangled upside down with only one strand of spider silk holding his foot.

“Why would she do that?” Scilla asked in disbelief. She squiggled around, trying to get free. “Oh . . . I hate to admit it,” said Scilla from the side of her mouth, “but I think you're right. She didn't notice me. I'm here just as stiff as before, so would you guys get over here and get me loose!”

That's what they eventually did. It took longer than it might have. For one thing, spider silk is stronger than steel for its size, and Molgotha's silk was pretty thick. You couldn't just snip it loose even if you happened to have some scissors. They had to wiggle each strand free from a tree branch. Another reason was that Ghoulie kept talking about how it was impossible for a spider to have set them free. “Anything that gets caught in the web — anything — the spider cocoons to be eaten later. Even another spider gets eaten if it wanders into her web. It must have been an accident.”

“Ghoulie, pipe down!” Beamer said.

“In fact, she should have been here, waiting in the center of the web when we dropped in for her dinner,” Ghoulie kept on saying, as if he hadn't heard Beamer. “Come to think of it, garden spiders aren't supposed to put their webs this high up in a tree either.”

Finally, when Beamer and Ghoulie freed Scilla, she too almost fell down. “Men!” she grumbled. “Y'all have got no attention to detail at all. Come on, let's go get help.”

As if she'd given a verbal command, a light flashed on in the attic window.