Against All Odds (6 page)

B
oney and Squeak peered through the bushes at a long, low grey building tucked into the trees. A strange blue light glowed from a single row of small, triangular windows running the length of the structure.

Squeak grabbed his telescope from his bag and began scouring for clues. “It looks like some kind of warehouse.”

“I guarantee this wasn’t here before,” Boney said. “How did it get here? And what’s it used for?”

Squeak continued to study the building. “It’s definitely not made of concrete—that much I can tell.”

Boney glanced from side to side. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone around. I think we should take a closer look.”

Squeak lowered his telescope. “Do you honestly think that’s a good idea?”

“We’ve come all this way. We have to find out what’s going on.”

Squeak collapsed his telescope. “Fine. But if things seem even the slightest bit odd or illogical, we’re getting out of here.”

Boney gave him a thumbs-up. Squeak clucked his tongue, placing his telescope back in his messenger bag. They were just about to stand when a set of small, firm hands clamped them on the shoulders, pushing them back down. The boys shouted in terror.

“What are you doing here?” an angry voice demanded.

Boney and Squeak spun around to find Samantha Moss staring back at them, hands on her hips, head held disdainfully to one side. “You’re going to ruin everything with your noise.”

Boney jumped to his feet. “You! How did you get behind us?”

“Keep your voice down,” Samantha ordered.

Boney’s jaw dropped. “What are you doing running around out here?”

Samantha flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I should ask you the same thing.”

“We were following you.”

Samantha narrowed her hazel eyes. “Looks like you found me.”

“Correction,” Squeak piped up. “You found us.” “It wasn’t difficult with all the commotion you’re making.”

Boney winced with embarrassment. “We wanted to know what you were doing in our clubhouse.”

Samantha’s tone changed immediately. “Oh … I was … uh … just checking on something …”

“What exactly?” Boney asked.

“Well … it’s kind of hard to explain …”

Boney folded his arms and looked at the girl. “Try me.”

“It’s okay, it doesn’t matter,” Squeak said, jumping to Samantha’s rescue.

“Yes, it does,” Boney insisted.

“No, it doesn’t,” Squeak countered. He leaned toward Boney. “You’re being so rude.” He smiled politely at Samantha. “I was really impressed with your performance at the flying competition.”

Samantha smiled brightly back. “Thank you.”

“I’d love to know the composition of your jet fuel formula—if you don’t mind sharing,” Squeak continued, as though they were exchanging cookie recipes.

Samantha tossed her hair. “Of course. I can write it out for you, if you like.”

“That would be great.” Squeak dug in his messenger bag for his notebook and pencil.

Boney barged between them in frustration. “All right, already! We’ve had enough show and tell for one day.” He turned to Samantha. “Can you at least tell us what’s going on here?”

Samantha stuck her nose in the air. “That’s what I was trying to ascertain until you two showed up.”

“It’s like nothing I’ve seen before,” Squeak launched in. “The building isn’t made of concrete. It looks like some kind of superior polycarbon-fibre composite—but I’ve never heard of it being used in this application.” He held up his notebook. “I’ve been taking notes.”

Samantha retrieved an identical notebook from her knapsack. “Me too.”

They blushed and turned away from each other, flipping through the pages of their notebooks. Samantha pointed to an equation carefully penned at the bottom of a page. “I have to agree with your assumption. It’s definitely a type of polycarbon-fibre composite. But it’s never been used in this manner … at least, not on this planet … yet. Though I have read about a similar type of thermo plastic being developed for space travel. But it’s just a rumour at this point. Which would lead one to assume …” Her voice trailed off.

“Extraterrestrial life forms.” Squeak pointed to a similar equation in his notebook. “Was it the humming that gave it away?”

“Yes. And the blue light,” Samantha said. “They both have frequencies similar to positronic generation but far too advanced for this world.”

Squeak adjusted his goggles. “I’ve read of such frequencies.”

Samantha pushed the hair behind her ears. “Me too. They’re used to facilitate—”

“—mind control,” Squeak said.

The two scientists locked eyes.

Boney threw his hands in the air. “This is all very interesting, but we’re wasting valuable time here!”

Squeak ignored his friend, his eyes still trained on Samantha’s. “See what I have to deal with?”

“He’s right,” Samantha said, breaking the spell. “We are wasting time. We should take a closer look at that building. I’d like to take a sample.” She slipped her notebook in her bag and began slinking toward the building.

Boney made a face at Squeak. “See what I have to deal with?” he repeated mockingly. “Some friend you are.”

Squeak shrugged, guilty.

“Come on,” Samantha whispered over her shoulder.

The boys fell in line, copying Samantha’s movements until the three investigators were positioned behind some weeds at a safe distance from the building.
The humming was loud there, throbbing in low waves. Samantha pulled sponge earplugs from her bag and gave a set each to Boney and Squeak. She twisted a pair between her fingers and inserted them in her ears, then suggested they do the same. “For the humming,” she explained, addressing the confused looks on Boney and Squeak’s faces. “If this is some kind of mind-altering frequency, we don’t want it to control our thoughts or actions.”

“Yes, of course,” Squeak agreed, inserting the sponge plugs into his ears.

“Of course,” Boney mimicked him, doing the same.

Samantha pointed to her eyes, then pointed to one of the windows along the length of the building, indicating that she’d like to take a look inside. Boney and Squeak nodded.

The three investigators spidered along the ground, eyes wary. When they reached the building, they wormed their way up to the window until they were staring through the glass.

Inside, the building was entirely white, except for a blue glow that emanated from the chute of what appeared to be a giant, space-age stainless steel doughnut maker standing to one side of the room. The machine was big and square, with some kind of strange lettering etched over the surface. A conveyor belt rolled
from beneath the chute to a point halfway across the room. Lockers made from the same shiny metal lined the walls.

All at once, the blue light from the machine began to flash and waver. The chute quivered and shook, the blue light flaring as a creature covered in an opaque, sticky ooze was spit from the machine onto the conveyor. It had a tangled mop of red hair and was wearing a Superman T-shirt and jeans.

“It’s Itchy!” Boney shouted over the humming. “What have they done to him?”

“It’s not Itchy!” Samantha yelled.

The conveyor continued to roll, the creature convulsing and clawing at the air as it struggled to life. At the end of the conveyor, the oozy thing tumbled to the floor, shuddering and shivering, the sticky film covering its body beginning to dry. The creature staggered in an attempt to stand, then looked around, dazed, its dark, expressionless eyes blinking against the cold, blue light.

“It
is
Itchy!” Boney hollered. He began pounding on the window. “Itchy! Over here! We’ve come to help you!”

Samantha grabbed Boney’s hands. “I told you, it’s not Itchy!”

The creature slowly turned its empty eyes toward Boney. Raising its arm, it pointed, menacing and vacant, then dropped its jaw and emitted a terrifying shriek. An
alarm began to blare, and, in an instant, the doors of the shiny steel lockers burst open, revealing hundreds of red-haired clones.

“Oh crap,” Squeak said.

“W
e have to get out of here—now!” Samantha said.

A high-pitched whistle shrilled, and the Itchy clones jolted to life as though struck through by a bolt of electricity. Together they pointed at the window where Squeak and Boney stood, then began shrieking as they swarmed from the building.

“Run!” Samantha shouted, dashing down the path toward the tracks.

Boney darted after her, his arms and legs pumping like pistons.

“Hey, wait up!” Squeak yelled, his messenger bag pounding against his legs as he flailed along the path.

The hordes of Itchy clones surged after them, demonic mouths gaping, the ground shaking from the impact of their feet.

“They’re too fast!” Squeak wailed.

“Keep running!” Boney screamed.

Ahead of them, Samantha skidded to a stop and began digging through her bag. She pulled out a little black box with a big red button and held it up. “Come on!” she yelled to Boney and Squeak. “Don’t look back!” She waved them on, and the two boys raced down the path with all their might.

Boney glimpsed over his shoulder and saw the tide of Itchys swelling and rising behind him. “They’re gaining on us!”

“Run faster!” Samantha ordered.

Boney and Squeak streaked past her, running until they could see the train tracks at the edge of the woods. The boys turned just in time to see Samantha swallowed up by the wave of clones.

“She’s gone!” Squeak cried.

All at once, a deep pulse shot through the air. It struck Boney and Squeak in the chest, knocking the wind from their lungs and sending them thumping to the ground. The clones sputtered and stalled, eyes lifeless, mouths opening and closing like confused goldfish. They gathered in a big ragged herd, bumping aimlessly into each other, little meeping noises emanating from their slack lips.

Squeak sat up, rubbing his head. “What happened?”

Boney looked at the listless clones. “They turned into zombies.”

The Itchys began to slowly retreat, moving robotically in a line toward the warehouse. At the centre of the group stood Samantha, still holding the little black device in the air.

“Samantha!” Boney and Squeak called out. They scrambled up and ran to where she was standing.

“Are you okay?” Squeak asked.

Samantha continued holding the device in the air until the Itchys were out of sight, then shoved it into her bag. “I’m fine,” she said.

Squeak turned to Boney. “What part of ‘it’s not Itchy’ didn’t you understand?”

“I’m sorry,” Boney said, removing his earplugs. “I freaked out.”

“I’ll say.”

“I’m fine,” Samantha repeated, as though getting swarmed by clones was a daily event.

“What was that device you used?” Squeak asked in a loud voice.

Samantha removed the sponge plugs from her ears and pulled the little black box from her bag. “I call it the Disruptor.”

“What?” Squeak said.

Samantha pointed to her ears, signalling to Squeak to remove his earplugs.

But Squeak just stared back like a quizzical mouse. “That’s not the sort of thing one finds in a store.”

Boney nudged him in the ribs. “Take your earplugs out.”

“Huh?”

“Your earplugs!” Boney yelled. “Take them out!”

“Oh, right.” Squeak flushed as he pulled the plugs from his ears, stuffing them into his pants pocket. He cleared his throat, speaking in a normal voice. “I said that’s not the sort of thing you buy in a store. Did you build it?”

“Yes.” Samantha handed the device to Squeak so he could take a closer look.

“How does it work?” Boney asked.

“It emits pulses that interfere with alien frequencies.”

Boney pulled on his chin as he considered this. “How did you know we’d be dealing with aliens here? For all we knew, this could have been some kind of secret government project.”

“What are you implying?” Samantha placed her hands on her hips.

Squeak shot Boney an irritated look. “Obviously, she did her research and came prepared—not like some people I know.” He turned his back on his friend and
examined the Disruptor. “Impressive piece of work.” He handed the device back to Samantha, who replaced it in her bag.

“It’s just a prototype,” she said.

Boney stepped onto the train rail and began balancing his way toward home, Squeak and Samantha walking beside him. “So … you knew about the warehouse and the … um …” He snapped his fingers, searching for the right word.

“Clones,” Samantha said. “I believe that’s the word you’re looking for.”

“Clones,” Squeak echoed. He paused. “How strange they should decide to reproduce Itchy …”

“Who’s ‘they’?” Boney asked.

“The aliens,” Squeak said, as though it were common knowledge now.

Samantha tossed her hair. “It may not be as strange as you think. They usually look for … impressionable personalities to do their work.”

Boney turned to her. “Are you saying Itchy’s dumb?”

Samantha stared at him. “I didn’t say that.”

“She didn’t say that,” Squeak jumped in.

“They just find it easier to work with
suggestible
types,” Samantha said.

Boney frowned. “How do you know all this? And who are
they,
exactly?” He stepped off the tracks and
pushed through the bushes into his backyard. “What could they possibly hope to achieve by cloning Itchy? He may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but he would never do anything to hurt anyone.”

Squeak squeezed through the bushes after Boney. “Why did the clones chase us then?”

“They’ve likely been programmed to respond to threatening situations,” Samantha said, following Squeak through the hole in the hedge. “When they saw Boney banging on the window, they probably perceived him as a threat to the safety of their project and attacked.”

Boney shook his head. “I don’t get it. What good is it to send a giant group of clones out in the world to do your bidding? They’ll just get caught.”

“They don’t go around in a group. They hunt alone to avoid suspicion.” Samantha reached into her bag and pulled out a copy of the local newspaper as proof, flapping it open to the photo of the Itchy clone stealing the doughnuts. “See … only one clone caught on camera.”

Squeak considered the photo. “What about the police? They were looking for Itchy earlier.”

Samantha nodded. “They caught him.”

“What?”

“Not Itchy,” Samantha said. “One of the clones. I saw them grab it when I was running toward the train
tracks. It put up a big fight, but they managed to handcuff it and get it in the cruiser.”

“What’s going to happen to it?” Boney asked.

“They’ll probably put it in jail.” Samantha tucked her hair behind her ears.

Boney’s shoulders slumped. “This is so crazy.” He kicked a stone as he walked to the ladder at the base of the oak tree.

Squeak pointed to a sign newly affixed to the side of the clubhouse. “Uhhh … what’s that?”

Boney and Samantha stared at the sign. The words were painted in big black letters.

“No girls allowed,” Samantha read.

“Oh.” Boney scratched his head and gave a nervous little laugh. “I guess Itchy must have put that there.”

Squeak stiffened. “We never agreed on this new initiative.”

“I think this is the least of our worries,” Boney said.

Squeak became animated. “But the Order of Odd Fellows is a democracy. We always vote on such motions. We can’t have members just doing whatever they want.”

“What’s the Order of Odd Fellows?” Samantha asked. Boney’s face flushed. “Oh, it’s … um … a group that we belong to.”

“It’s our club,” Squeak said. “We established it years
ago. I even wrote a chant.” He raised his fist in the air. “We are weird, we are here, get used to it!”

Boney pushed Squeak’s arm down. “Uhhh … yeah …”

Samantha studied Boney with amusement. “I like it.”

Boney waved at the sign as a diversionary tactic. “How do we even know the real Itchy did this? There are millions of Itchys in that warehouse out there. Who knows what they’re up to?”

Samantha gave him a wry smile. “I don’t think they’re concerned about girls in your clubhouse.”

Boney clenched his jaw. “Well, why don’t you tell us what’s going on? You seem to know a lot.”

“Gladly. But I’d rather not loiter out in the open.” Samantha looked over her shoulder.

Boney took the hint. He gestured at the ladder. Samantha put her hands on the rungs and was about to climb when Squeak stopped her.

“You’d better let me go first. We have no idea who could be up there.”

Boney gave him a look. “Aren’t you the gentleman.”

Squeak brushed him off and began climbing the ladder. When he reached the top he stuck his head through the opening and looked around. “It’s safe. Nobody but Henry up here.”

“Thanks, Tarzan,” Boney called back. He allowed Samantha to climb next, then followed several rungs behind.

Squeak was already sitting at the table when Boney pulled himself into the clubhouse. Samantha took the seat next to Squeak.

“Just for the record, what
were
you doing up here with Itchy earlier?” Boney asked.

“It wasn’t Itchy,” Samantha said. “It was one of them.”

Squeak’s eyes widened. “So our security has been breached.”

“Not entirely.” Samantha looked at Henry, who cocked his head in her direction. “It seems your leghorn can tell the difference.”

Squeak’s face lit up. “Really?”

Samantha nodded. “I was hoping to speak to you about the … situation … when one of the clones followed me here. Henry recognized it wasn’t Itchy right away and chased it down the ladder.”

Squeak smiled his gap-toothed smile. “Good boy!” he praised the rooster.

Henry raised his head and fluffed his feathers proudly.

Boney sat at the table. “Did you notice how quick those clones are? It’s like they’re supercharged or something.”

“Did you notice their eyes?” Squeak said. “They’re vacant, like a doll’s eyes. They look possessed.”

Samantha grew quiet, the sunlight dappling across her face through the clubhouse window. “I’ve never had a close encounter with a clone before,” she confessed. “I was actually really scared when they swarmed me.”

“So were we,” Squeak admitted. “We thought you were a goner.”

Boney nodded soberly. He pulled thoughtfully on his long chin. “Not to push the issue or anything … but how did you know about the situation?”

Samantha started to speak, and then raised her finger to her lips. “What’s that noise?”

There was a rustling sound at the base of the ladder. Boney, Squeak, and Samantha froze in their seats, their startled faces turned toward Escape Hatch #1. They could hear the distinct sound of something climbing the rungs toward the clubhouse. And then a tangled mop of red hair popped through the hole. The creature rose to full height, teeth bared like a rabid dog.