Against All Odds (10 page)

B
oney and Squeak slunk along the corridor toward the green light, the thumping sound growing louder with every step. Crouching low, they approached an opening in the wall, Henry and the kittens growling warnings that the clones were near. As they drew closer to the light, Boney put his hand over his nose in disgust.

“What’s that wretched stench?”

Squeak winced, pinching his nose. “Ugh! It smells like rotten eggs.” He pulled two camouflage bandanas from his messenger bag and handed one to Boney, tying the other over his nose and mouth like a bandit from the Old West.

Boney quickly did the same, choking on the disgusting smell.

When they reached the edge of the doorway, Boney prodded the green light with his finger to be sure it was safe before he and Squeak peeked around the corner
into the room. The two friends stared in horror as their eyes adjusted to the nauseating green light.

At the centre of the room sat a gigantic, blubbery blob of a creature, the size of a small school bus, reclining on a giant, round white cushion. Its skin was green and slimy, and its toothless mouth was so big it eclipsed the creature’s entire body as it flapped open and shut. It had bulging yellow eyes like a bullfrog, and it slobbered and burped and gurgled and farted as it ate, filling the room with a putrid green gas.

To one side of the creature was a two-storey chute firing cannonballs of candy and cakes and sweets into the blob’s gaping maw. The chute was fed by the Itchy clones, shuffling in a long line, waiting to climb the metal stairs that led to the opening of the machine to dump their cargo. Once deposited, the sweets were shot from the chute with a loud
bang,
the clones making their way across a catwalk and down another set of stairs to gather in a loose group on the other side of the room.

The boys cringed as the cannon suddenly misfired, overshooting the blob and splattering the food against the wall in a revolting smear of blue icing and whipped cream. This caused the creature to scream with rage and pound the floor with its tail, knocking several terrified clones off the catwalk to be gobbled up as they tumbled into the creature’s flapping mouth. The blob
shuddered as it swallowed the clones. It convulsed and grew in size.

Boney stared at Squeak. “Did that blob thing just get bigger?”

Squeak raised his eyebrows. “It appears to have grown after eating the clones.”

“Who’s that over there?” Boney pointed to a shadowy figure crouched behind a low white wall near the front of the room.

The figure seemed to hear him, because it turned, the features of its ghoulish face wavering in the noxious green light. Its eyes were big and round, and it had a long trunk stretching down where its nose and mouth should have been.

The boys gasped, ducking out of sight.

“It’s an alien!” Boney said, trying to remain calm. “I think it saw us!”

After several moments when nothing happened, the boys peeped around the corner again. The alien was still staring at them. Only this time, it gestured for them to come forward.

Squeak strained to see through the green atmosphere in the room. “Ummm … that’s not an alien. It’s Sam, wearing a gas mask.”

Boney rubbed his eyes. “Are you sure? It’s hard to see anything through this disgusting air.”

Henry blinked against the fumes. The kittens rubbed their eyes with their paws.

“How’d Sam get in there without being seen?” Boney wondered.

“She must have waited until there was a distraction,” Squeak guessed.

“Good thinking. The next time that blob freaks out, we’ll dash behind that wall and join her.”

No sooner did Boney say this than the cannon misfired, blasting a huge lump of chocolate éclairs over the blob’s head. The éclairs exploded against the wall, sending the creature into a fit of pounding and screeching. It knocked more clones off the catwalk and into its voracious jaws.

“Now!” Boney said, as the blob shuddered and increased in size. He grabbed Squeak by the sleeve and dragged him into the room, skidding to a stop beside Sam.

“What took you so long?” Sam’s voice sounded tinny and clipped through the voicemitter on her gas mask.

“We thought you were one of them,” Boney said. “Where did you get that gas mask?”

Sam’s voicemitter clicked. “I keep it in my military knapsack at all times, just in case.”

The three friends turned to watch as the blob continued to eat, its giant mouth blubbering and slobbering, big clouds of green gas filling the air.

“What
is
that disgusting thing?” Boney asked.

Sam shook her head. “Some kind of intergalactic glutton that requires massive amounts of sugar to sustain itself. It’s obviously dangerous, judging by the height of that chute and the way it keeps eating the clones.”

There was a loud rasping sound, like someone pinching the air out of a balloon, and the blob released another giant plume of gas.

Boney grimaced. “Why doesn’t it stay on its own planet and eat? Why does it have to come here and eat all our cakes and stuff?”

The blob belched, causing Boney and Squeak to cover their noses with disgust.

“It likely consumed its entire planet and needed a new source of sugar.” Squeak choked against the fumes.

Boney gagged. “It’s giving me the dry heaves.”

Squeak scoped the room. “Where’s Itchy?”

Sam pointed to a figure near the end of the clone line.

“How can you tell it’s him?” Boney coughed. “They all look identical.”

Sam handed her binoculars to Boney. “He’s carrying red licorice. And look at his neck. There’s no mark. The clones have small puncture marks on the backs of their necks, as though they’ve been inflated by some kind of needle—like a football.”

Boney held the binoculars to his burning eyes and
studied the hordes of clones as best he could. “Okay, I see him. But that puncture mark on the clones will be difficult to use as a form of detection. It’s just too small. The minute Itchy drops that licorice into the chute, he’ll join that big group and we’ll never be able to tell him apart from the clones.” He handed the binoculars back to Sam. “We have to get him out of here now.”

There was a sudden loud clunk and a series of panels on the ceiling slid open, revealing dozens of large grey fans. They powered up, whirling faster and faster until the entire ship seemed to vibrate. The fans drew the noxious green gas from the room, the gas whirling in huge funnel clouds toward the ceiling.

“Thank heavens,” Boney said, letting go of his nose as the fans cleared the air.

Sam removed her gas mask and stuffed it into her bag. She investigated the fans through her binoculars. “I wonder what that’s all about?”

Squeak produced his telescope. “They seem to be collecting the gas.”

“What for?” Boney asked.

“I don’t know. But we’d better figure it out soon,” Squeak said. “Itchy’s nearly reached the mouth of the chute.”

Itchy staggered up the last few steps on the stairs. He clomped in a trance across the catwalk, holding his
package of red licorice in front of him. When he reached the opening of the chute, he stopped. The other clones began to bottleneck behind him, bumping against each other.

“What’s he doing?” Boney hissed.

Squeak pushed on the bridge of his goggles. “He’s probably having second thoughts about giving the blob his licorice. He’s fighting the mind control because he wants to keep the candy for himself. You know he’s always had difficulty sharing.”

“He’s going to have some serious difficulty if he doesn’t move soon.”

The clones on the stairs looked around in confusion. The blob started slobbering violently when the cannonballs of food stopped coming.

Boney groaned. “Drop the licorice in the chute, Itchy.”

But Itchy just stood there, motionless. Until an alarm sounded, blaring through the room. Lights started to flash, and the blob began to screech and roar, banging its tail violently on the floor. The clones panicked, breaking ranks and moving erratically through the room. The alarm continued to blast as a row of small doors along the periphery of the room whooshed open and dozens of small grey aliens came rushing out. They were wearing blue overalls and what appeared to be silver rubber
boots. Their heads were pointed, and their huge black eyes were slanted upward. And they looked very upset.

“Third-level Greys!” Sam exclaimed.

“What are third-level Greys?” Boney asked.

“Drones,” she said. “They must be the ones harvesting the noxious gases from the blob. They were alerted by that alarm.”

Boney clenched his jaw. “We’re really in a mess now.”

T
he alarm continued to sound as the little grey men in blue overalls scattered throughout the room. A group of them scuttled over to where the blob sat, carrying silver buckets and long spoons of some sort. They began waving and jumping in front of the creature’s enraged face, and then they attempted to appease the beast by flinging huge spoonfuls of goop from the buckets into its mouth. But their aim was terrible and they kept missing, launching gobs of glop over the beast’s head or misfiring completely and sending the goop onto the floor at their feet. This served to infuriate the creature further, and it began howling and pounding more feverishly than before. The little men tried to dodge the creature’s tail, but they were knocked off their feet and
gobbled up along with their goop buckets and spoons. Another group of little grey men rushed to take their place, carrying more buckets of glop and even longer spoons, only to slip on the goopy floor and succumb to the same fate as their alien colleagues.

“How horrible,” Sam groaned, clutching her stomach.

Boney winced. “What a way to go …”

“They’re obviously expendable,” Squeak said.

The entire time this was going on, the rest of the little grey men were trying to wrangle the disoriented clones, herding them like frightened turkeys into groups against the wall. Several of the workers stormed the stairs to unblock the clog that Itchy and his licorice had caused.

“We have to get Itchy out of there,” Boney said. “Somebody, do something!”

Sam pulled the Disruptor from her bag and depressed the switch. A huge wave exploded from the device, radiating like a nuclear blast through the room. It hit the clones and the little grey men and the blob sitting on its seat. Instantly, the clones became zombies, wandering and meeping and bumping into each other. The little grey men seemed perplexed as they watched the clones, trying to figure out what had just happened. The blob yawned a huge slimy yawn and blinked its bulging yellow eyes at a mystified group of grey men who stood beneath the flashing lights of the alarm, still holding their buckets
and spoons at the ready. Itchy swayed on the catwalk in front of the chute, his knees buckling slightly.

“It worked,” Boney softly cheered. He was just about to congratulate Sam when Itchy jerked with a kind of spasm and dropped the package of licorice into the chute. There was a loud clunk, and the machine spewed black smoke as it belched out the licorice, package and all, right into the face of the blob. Yowling with surprise, the creature began pounding and screaming once again. The clones came back to life and started marching maniacally around the room, the little grey men desperately trying to control them. The group of workers on the stairs rushed toward Itchy.

“Push the Disruptor button again!” Boney yelled.

Sam pushed the button, sending another wave through the room. But this time it did nothing, bouncing harmlessly off the walls. Sam looked helplessly at Boney and Squeak. “I guess it doesn’t have the same effect twice in a row.”

Boney grabbed the device and began frantically pushing the button over and over. Squeak pried the Disruptor from Boney’s hands. “It won’t work!”

Boney jumped to his feet. “Well, I’m not going to just stand here and watch Itchy get eaten by that creature!” He rushed toward the stairs that led up to the chute.

“Oh dear …” Squeak moaned. “This is awful.”

Boney launched himself up the stairs, pushing and shoving past the befuddled clones. As he ran, Henry and Tiger squawked and hissed in their slings, pecking and scratching any clones that got too close. Some of the clones were so surprised by the attack that they simply flipped like manikins over the railing, landing in a heap on the floor. Across the room, little grey men stood in shock, chattering and pointing at the spectacle being played out before them.

Boney reached the top of the stairs and grabbed Itchy, who began shouting in terror, his eyes empty and lifeless.

“Itchy, it’s me!” Boney yelled in his face.

But Itchy just kept hollering like a startled sleepwalker. Boney shook his friend with all his might. Itchy howled back like a madman, his head bobbling around on his neck like a dust mop. When he wouldn’t stop shouting, Boney raised his hand and slapped Itchy sharply across the face.

“Ow!” Itchy yelped. He rubbed his cheek with his hand. “What’d you hit me for?”

Boney placed the sling holding Henry over Itchy’s shoulders. “We have to get out of here. The clones are going to get us.”

“Clones!” Itchy started hollering all over again.

Boney grabbed his arm and dragged him down the stairs. “Come on!”

General mayhem ensued as clones marched, the blob screeched, and workers scampered around, unsure of what to do. This helped Boney and Itchy to escape undetected, and they were almost at the bottom of the stairs when one of the little grey men came to his senses. Extending his skinny grey finger, he pressed a button on the wall of the ship.

A whistle shrilled, jerking the clones to attention. Their heads turned, hundreds of vacant eyes trained on Boney and Itchy. The boys stood, petrified.

“The clones are going to attack!” Sam cried.

The clones mobilized, converging on the two boys from the top and bottom of the stairs.

“What are we going to do?” Itchy wailed.

“Jump!” Boney said.

The two boys scissored over the railing and landed with a thump on the floor, a wall of angry clones staring back at them. The clones took a unified step forward. Boney and Itchy stepped back. Henry raised his comb, ruffling his feathers in warning. Tiger puffed up his fur and hissed, his ears pressed flat against his head.

Sam turned to Squeak. “We have to help them.” She sprang from behind the wall to stand beside Boney and Itchy.

“Wait for me!” Squeak called, running after her.

The four friends formed a circle, standing back to back for greater protection.

“This could be the end,” Boney said over his shoulder. “It’s been nice knowing you.”

Itchy’s bottom lip began to quiver. “Please don’t say that. There’s so much food I want to eat.”

“I’ll never complain about my aunt’s cooking again,” Boney vowed.

“What will my dad do without me?” Squeak whistled through the gap in his teeth.

Itchy moaned. “I’m only twelve. I’m too young to die!”

“We’re not going to die,” Sam said. “We have to stay positive.”

“Oh, sure,” Itchy blubbered. “That’s easy for you to say.”

The clones growled, surging forward. The Odds raised their fists, Itchy’s knobby knees knocking together.

Sam assumed a ninja pose. “We’re not going down without a fight!” She rushed the clones, leaping through the air. With one swift kick, she flattened three clones, karate-chopping two more to the floor before her feet even hit the ground. Fluffy jumped from his sling and landed on the floundering clones, spitting and scratching until their faces were covered in welts. The clones
staggered to their feet, blind and stumbling, until they crashed together, collapsing in a heap like the poles of a cheap tent. The little grey men dissolved into a confused panic, running around the room clutching their heads as Sam felled clones with her lethal kicks.

“Wow!” Squeak said. “She’s totally awesome!”

But despite Sam’s efforts, the clones kept coming. With each one defeated, five more took its place. In a flurry of punches and roundhouse kicks, Sam scattered them like bowling pins. Fluffy finished them off, levelling clones in a blur of flying claws.

“Come on!” Boney yelled. “Sam needs us!”

“She seems to be doing fine by herself,” Itchy quavered.

Squeak bolted forward, doubling over and hollering at the top of his lungs. He rushed the clones, driving one in the stomach with his head, like a battering ram. The clone reeled back, hitting the clones behind it, so that they fell in a row like dominoes, right into the blob’s slimy mouth. The creature greedily gobbled them up and convulsed as it swelled several times in size before releasing a floor-shaking burp.

A group of grey men began waving frenetically, attempting to direct the clones away from the blob. But the clones crashed through them, knocking little grey men into the blob’s ravenous mouth. Boney shouted
encouragement. “Keep going, Squeak! You’re taking them out like flies!”

Boney rushed into the fray, punching and shoving the clones into the mouth of the beast. Itchy stood where he was, his pale fists shaking in the air. A clone trained its eyes on him and advanced, growling and gnashing.

“Get away from me!” Itchy shrieked, slapping hysterically at the clone.

The clone slapped back, until both of them were shrieking and slapping like maniacs. Henry leaped from his sling and attacked, his rooster spurs slicing the air, his wings beating the clone about the head as he pecked at its eyes. The clone covered its face, lurching backward. Boney shoved it toward the blob, which slobbered it down with a loud smack.

The four friends fought like Spartans, their kittens scratching and snarling along with them, Henry flapping and pecking at Itchy’s side. They threw more and more clones at the blob, the creature’s big yellow eyes nearly popping from its head as it swallowed and convulsed and expanded. The room reeked with green gas, the creature farting and burping and gurgling.

Then all at once there was a deafening explosion, like the sound of a Zeppelin hitting a blowtorch. The room shook as steaming green guck flew through the air and a giant mushroom cloud of foul gas roiled to
the ceiling. Green goo splattered everywhere, sliming the walls and clones and little grey men. It showered down on the kittens and the rooster and on the four friends, who gaped at each other in shock.

“The blob blew up!” Boney shouted, choking on the acrid gas.

Sam, Squeak, and Itchy coughed and sputtered, gasping for air. Squeak used his fingers to squeegee the slime from his goggles so he could get a better look at the carnage.

In the middle of the room, where the blob once sat, was a smoking pile of green slime. The clones shuffled through the sludge, coughing and meeping, while the little grey men wrung their hands. Squeak poked the heap of steaming goop with the toe of his combat boot. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Neither have I,” Sam said. She pulled a tongue depressor and a small plastic bottle from her bag and took a sample of the sludge, the green slime jiggling like rancid Jell-O.

Itchy flinched. “That’s disgusting.” But his face lit up as he licked the slime from his lips. “Hey! This green glop tastes pretty good. It’s really sweet.”

Boney winced. “Now
that
is truly disgusting.”

Henry shook his feathers. The kittens preened the goop from their fur. From somewhere in the room the
whistle sounded again, followed by a stream of weird clicks and bleeps. The fans in the ceiling whirred to life, sucking the gas into the vents. A door mysteriously opened in the wall and the clones began marching in a line from the room. Another door appeared, and the little grey men scurried away, leaving the four friends standing alone in a sea of steaming goop. The doors zipped shut and there was an eerie silence.