Welcome to the Jungle (8 page)

NIGHT FELL LIKE A HEAVY BLANKET OVER THE EIGHTH CONTINENT. OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE
ocean, far from civilization and its innumerable coughing engines, the continent floated alone in the dark, the only light the gleaming stars above.

The three kids lay flat on their stomachs, squinting in the dark to watch the Winterpole guards make their rounds. At this distance, the kids could see only bits of movement under the gas lamps that dotted the area. Two patrolmen circled the clearing and greeted a third in front of the barracks. Then, just as Sprout had predicted, the three guards dispersed—two went into the barracks where the agents slept, leaving just one to patrol the clearing.

“Finally!” Evie breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay.” Rick turned to face Evie and Sprout. “That's as safe as it's gonna get. Sprout, you ready to create your diversion?”

“Hoo-wee! You bet your broccoli, Rick.”

“Good. You'll loop to the north side of the compound and do what we talked about. Evie and I will crawl down to the western edge and get into position. Assuming the diversion works, we'll make a break for 2-Tor and activate the hover-sled. Remember to get out of there as fast as you can once we're done. Rendezvous at the
Roost
. Okay, Sprout? Sprout?”

The little cowboy had taken off. He was hunched over and running at a gallop toward the paperwork depository they'd noticed earlier.

Rick shook his head in disbelief. “That kid is crazy.”

“Crazy cool!” Evie pulled Rick to his feet. “Come on, Ricky. It's robot-rescue time.”

“2-Tor is an organic mutated crow now,” Rick whispered as his sister led him across the terrain.

They crept down to a line of sheds along the edge of the compound and pressed against the prefabricated walls. They sidled along to the edge of the wall and then peered around the corner. Rick squinted into the darkness. Evie pulled him back before he was seen.

“The guard is right there,” Rick whispered.

For several tense, quiet moments, they waited.

Evie pulled on Rick's shirt. “Isn't he supposed to patrol the whole compound? Why is he staying in one spot?”

“I don't know,” Rick hissed. “Maybe he's suspicious that some noisy, nosy girl is going to try to break in.”

Evie scowled. “Well where is Sprout with his diversion?”

Before Rick could reply, the paperwork depository exploded. A column of flame burst into the air like an erupting volcano. Scraps of fiery legal documents fluttered like dizzy comets.

“Oh,” Evie said. “There it is.”

The guard on patrol shouted in dismay and sprinted away in the direction of the explosion.

“I expected something a little more subtle,” Evie said. “But wow. It worked.”

“Yeah but . . .” Rick pointed at the barracks. A flood of other agents poured out, struggling into their uniforms and fumbling with icetinguishers. “Sprout woke up the entire compound.”

“Oh, I see,” Evie said. Then, darting around the corner of the shed, she added, “Well, come on! Don't want to waste a good diversion.”

As Evie was about to enter the central clearing, Rick grabbed her and pulled her back. Just in time, too. A trio of agents crossed in front of the sheds at a fast clip. When the coast was clear, Rick and Evie ran to where 2-Tor's ice prison was resting on the hoversled.

Rick circled to the back of the sled, which was a slightly curved bed of shiny metal, about the size of a picnic table. After popping open the control panel, Rick started fiddling with the buttons. He powered up the hoversled without much trouble, and soon the engine was humming. It lifted the sled into the air, buffeting it on an invisible cushion of energy three feet off the ground.

The floating block of ice drew the attention of a half-dozen Winterpole agents, who were on their way to the burning depository. Their faces turned angry.

“Quick, Rick, hop on!” Evie shoved him into the bed of the hoversled.

“Wait!” Rick shouted. “The controls are very delicate.”

This revelation didn't stop Evie. She punched the controls as hard as she could.

Evie clung to the hoversled as it rocketed through the pack of agents, sending them all in different directions. The sled veered upward over the roof of one of the sheds and soared into the dark.

From her high vantage point, Evie could see the agents at the north end of the compound shouting orders to each other and spraying the burning rubble of the depository with their icetinguishers. It then occurred to Evie that the hover engine on the sled did not have the power to keep them this high for very long, or even for any time at all.

As if sensing Evie's realization, the hoversled dropped. The kids screamed as it fell through the air. Then,
WHUMP!
The sled slammed into the mottled ground with a loud thud. But still the engine kept fighting. They bounced across the surface of the eighth continent until the hoversled regained enough altitude to carry the two kids and their 2-Tor-shaped cargo at a steady pace. Judging by the shouts behind them, it was clear the Winterpole agents were organizing a search party to go after the stolen hoversled, but it would not be easy to track them down in the darkness.

Using Rick's pocket tablet as a guide, they navigated their way back to the
Roost
, where Sprout was waiting for them. The little pyromaniac was carrying a blazing torch of rolled up paperwork, which cast jagged shadows against his face, illuminating his mischievous grin. His eyes went wide when he saw the size of the frozen 2-Tor up close.

“That there ice cube is gonna need a mighty big drink.”

It wasn't long before Sprout and the Lanes had built a fire around the base of 2-Tor's frozen cell, using treated wood stored in the hull of the
Roost
for emergencies. Evie watched the coals spit with each drop of water that dripped off the block of ice, kicking embers up among the stars.

They couldn't leave the continent until 2-Tor defrosted. Sprout produced a bag of red beets from his satchel. They skewered the beets on sticks and roasted them over the fire like marshmallows. The beets actually tasted pretty good.

Her stomach full of root vegetables, Evie leaned back and thought about all the wonderful evenings when her father had brought out his telescope and stargazed with her and Rick. But thinking about these happy memories only hurt Evie's heart. Her mother was under arrest, her father was missing, and Rick hated her for losing the super root. Hard to believe that only a day ago she'd been enjoying her happy ending.

While Evie reflected, Sprout and Rick huddled over Rick's Game Zinger, their faces aglow in the red light of the fire and the blue light of the screen.

“What are you two looking at?” Evie asked, trying to rub a beet juice stain off her finger. The boys were pointing at little blobs on the screen and whispering.

Sprout looked up. “Rick's showing me the plan for the eighth continent settlement.”

“
The
plan?” Evie scowled. “I didn't realize we had agreed on a plan.”

Rick smiled innocently. That look made Evie want to throw a roasted beet at him. “I showed him my rendering of the layout. I just added a hydroponic lab. That'll help us grow fresh produce until we can conduct tests to determine how arable the land is. You see, with hydroponics, you grow plants using mineral nutrient solutions, so you don't need to use soil.”

“It's the best darn way to grow plants I've ever seen!” Sprout added.

“I know what hydroponics are,” Evie said. “But Sprout, we're not building a science dictatorship like Rick wants.”

Rick glared. “It's not a dictatorship. The governing body of Scitopia will be a small group of carefully vetted and selected Nobel Prize winners, geniuses, and entrepreneurs.”

“So like your daddy, and maybe the Prof, too!” Sprout nodded his approval of this decision.

Evie was unimpressed. “And who's gonna select this small group of egos with zero oversight and total authority? You, Rick? That's a dictatorship! And furthermore,
Scitopia
? What kind of ridiculous name for a continent is that?”

“An awesome one,” Rick said. “And I'm not a dictator. How can you say that? I'm a good person with good intentions. I'll make everyone who lives on the eighth continent happy. I'll only make decisions that will do what's best for them.”

“You mean what you
think
is best for them, Your Highness.”

Rick scowled. Sprout snorted.

“The eighth continent should be a democracy. It's fair. Everyone gets a vote in how the continent operates.” As Evie spoke she glanced at her poor bird tutor, still encased in ice. “The public can decide where to live, how to eat, and what kind of scientific research they want to do.”

“Well what if they want to pursue scientific research that doesn't interest us?”

“That's fine. It's their right to disagree.”

“What if the first thing they vote for is forfeiting Dad to Winterpole? What if they want to research bombs like Mastercorp does?”

“What?” Evie could hear her voice growing more frustrated. “That goes totally against our philosophy for creating the eighth continent. They can't do that!”

“Sure they can.” Rick had that stupid grin on his face again, the one he had when he was winning. “If it's a democracy, then they can do whatever they want.”

“Well then I'll make sure no one with dumb ideas like that is allowed to live on the eighth continent.”

“Oh ho ho! And who decides who can come and who can't, Evie? You?”

She realized he totally had her. Darn it. She hated when he did that.

Rick went on. “So now you have complete control of immigration to the eighth continent and you won't let anyone in unless they do what you say.”

“That's not what I meant!”

“Why not?” Rick smiled. “I think it sounds like a great idea.”

Sprout stood up to stretch his legs. “Y'all're carrying on like two cats in a sack. I say y'all should find some common ground. I sure wouldn't bicker so heatedly about philosophy and politics with any of my kin. At least, I wouldn't if I had any.”

Evie frowned. “We're sorry, Sprout. We didn't mean to upset you.”

“Yeah,” Rick agreed.

“Aw, y'all're fine.” Sprout approached the block of ice, which had shrunk considerably. The feathered tips of 2-Tor's wings were sticking out of the ice cube. Sprout picked up a burning log from the fire, careful not to touch the part of it that was hot. He held it in front of 2-Tor, close, so the orange flame licked the glassy surface.

Rick and Evie grabbed torches and joined Sprout, waving the torches over the ice and watching as it melted away. As they worked, they heard a hissing sound almost like a whistle. “What's that noise?” Rick asked, straining to hear the sound.

“I reckon it's this over here.” Sprout pointed. The tip of 2-Tor's black beak had emerged from the quickly melting ice. The top and bottom of the beak were slightly parted, and he was whistling faintly, breathing, through the gap.

Rick heaved a sigh of relief. “He's alive!”

The remaining ice around 2-Tor's head continued to melt away. The kids leaned in close, listening to 2-Tor's hoarse whisper. “I . . . say . . . I . . . say . . .”

“2-Tor! 2-Tor!” Evie touched his beak. It was as cold as the ice that still encased the rest of his body. “Can you hear me?”

“I say! Do not shoot!”

“2-Tor, what are you talking about?” Evie said, her heart pounding. “We're not going to shoot you.”

“I think he's having flashbacks of whatever happened to him before he was frozen,” Rick explained. “Hurry, let's try to finish thawing him out as quickly as possible.”

It took several more minutes to completely extract 2-Tor from the ice. They had to keep building up the fire to prevent the melting water from putting it out. Once 2-Tor was free, they dried him with towels from the
Roost
and wrapped him in warm blankets. He sat close to the fire, while the kids listened to his story.

“It was a most distressing turn of events. Your father and I were looking into purchasing a very large anchor to root the continent, but that most unpleasant gentleman Mister Snow arrived, with a contingent of his fellow agents.”

“Winterpole,” Rick muttered in disgust.

“They said they were going to take your father. But I do not know where. Back to Geneva? I am uncertain, and you know how irregular it is for me to be described that way.”

“So it's settled,” Evie said. “We have to break into Winterpole headquarters, again, and rescue Dad. What other choice do we have?”

“But what if he's not there?” Rick asked. “2-Tor doesn't know where they took him. Dad could be at the Prison at the Pole for all we know, or any Winterpole facility. Wouldn't they assume their headquarters is the first place we would look for him? It might be a trap for us. And besides, even if we could magically discover where they were keeping him, what would we do once we got him out? The continent is still on a collision course with Australia. Winterpole would just arrest him again. They still have a presence here. Our only chance is to root the continent, so that we have a place to bring Dad once we free him.”