Hunter Moran Saves the Universe (10 page)

Zack's eyes widen. He gives me a kick under the table. What am I missing? But there's no time for more. Pop turns to Zack. “Better practice. Tonight is your big night.”

It's a big night, all right, a night to be blown to smithereens.

Zack scrapes back his chair. He's still looking at me.

“Go,” Mom tells him.

Pop leans over the stove. “Want to help me carry the soup?” he asks me.

The pot is huge; the soup is gross. But why not?

“
S-T-U
,” Zack whispers as he goes down the hall.

That would be St. Ursula's.

But he gives me a quick head shake over his shoulder. He knows what I'm thinking. Too bad I haven't a clue about what he's thinking.

Mom shuts the living room door behind him. “Zack needs to concentrate,” she says.

Pop and I wrestle the pot onto the shopping cart.

Pop is whistling. “Ah,” he says after a moment. “You were going to build a playhouse for Steadman.”

I've almost forgotten saying that. I have no idea how to begin. A playhouse. Good grief.

“That was a good thought,” Pop says. “We'll do it together. You, me, and Zack.”

“I guess so,” I say.

“It'll make up for the computer.” He begins to whistle again.

I try to think of what to say to that, but I'm speechless. I try a grin.

Is he grinning back? I can't tell. He's too smart for that.

Steadman comes after us in his rabbit pj's, singing the
alphabet song at the top of his lungs. We pass St. Ursula's and get soaked by Father Elmo's sprinkler. “It won't hurt to dilute the soup a little,” Pop says.

The town round is like an anthill, everyone getting ready, buzzing and cackling: Seven Guys Over Seventy tooting, and not one on the same note; Sarah Yulefski tuning up her violin; Mr. and Mrs. Wu setting up their frankfurter stand—those homemade hot dogs that taste like dead dogs.

On one side of us looms Lester's old balloon. It's green, and moldy, and billows in the wind. Good thing it isn't going anywhere. I see a small rip in the canvas.

A little farther down is the town's fire engine, with its huge ladder halfway up.

Steadman's almost finished singing. “
P-Q-R
…” He stops for a breath. “
T-U-V
…”

“
S-T-U
,” I say aloud.

“Sturgis Air Force Base?” Steadman says.

How does he think of these things? But this time he's wrong; this time I get what Zack was trying to tell me. I think about Lester Tinwitty's picture hanging over the
S-T-U
section in the library. It would be just like Mrs. Wu to hide the original recipe there. And from the dentist's office, Diglio could see just what she was doing.

Is that what this is all about? The Diglios stealing a secret recipe just to get to the Ozark Mountains? But why set off a bomb? Maybe half the town owes him money for filling in their cavities. He's into revenge.

That has to be it.

Pop and I hoist the pot of soup to the top of Lester Tinwitty's kettle. “Not much soup for the town to taste.”

“Are you kidding?” Pop says. “Who'd want to eat this swill? It's just for the idea of it.”

But we all have something to do now: Zack has to create a masterpiece, Steadman has to get dressed, and I have to find a bomb and dismantle it.

Chapter 18

Instead Pop sets me to work on bunting. That's what he calls it. We zigzag along with a huge roll of red-white-and-blue stuff to loop around the telephone poles.

I spend the day tacking, until my fingers have dents in them. Over my head, William splashes orange paint around, finishing up the grandstand.

I hope it's quick-drying paint.

Sarah gets herself right in there, looping and tacking along with me and talking about her contribution to the musical world. “Wait until they hear me,” she says. “It will be like Mozart's debut.”

At last everything is ready. Pop rolls in the popcorn machine. I hope last year's leftover popcorn is gone. It tasted stale even then.

It's getting dark; lights go on overhead and the signal comes from the fire department: a blast to keep your ears ringing for an hour. Tinwitty Night is ready to begin.

Seven Guys Over Seventy go at it with horns and drums.
It's music that must be seventy years old, but actually not bad if you don't get too close.

People come from all over. Diglio wears his white jacket with
I'M THE DOCTOR
embroidered on the pocket, and Mrs. Diglio is decked out like a wedding cake in white net. And here comes my buddy Zack with his hair slicked down; he's wearing a new T-shirt and lugging Old Lady Campbell's cello along. He looks like a nervous wreck.

It's really noisy. We have the Seven Guys, Mrs. Wu calling, “Get your hot dogs while they're hot,” and Pop yelling, “Popcorn here. Hurry before it's gone.”

I keep watching Diglio. He acts as if he's the mayor of the world, shaking everyone's hands with fingers as fat as Mrs. Wu's hot dogs. Imagine, I have to be ready to deck him when the action gets hot.

But for now, the action is the concert. Too bad the pilots at Sturgis Air Force Base have mixed up the timing. They begin their show, twirling and diving over the town round so you can hardly hear Sarah's contribution to the music world. But who could listen for that long, anyway? People begin to yawn as Sarah saws on.

Mom and the other kids are sitting in the grandstand, but Pop has disappeared under the popcorn machine. It must have broken down again. I can see his legs and feet and a bunch of tools scattered around.

Mrs. Diglio's eyes are closed. She's fallen asleep with all
this noise? But then Diglio inches away from the grandstand. He takes a step at a time, looking back, looking guilty?

I search for a weapon. I may have to bash him over the head. I've had a lot of practice with that because of William. But all I see is a stick on the ground. You couldn't even bash a mosquito with it.

Desperately, I motion to Zack. We have to save Newfield. Eyes closed, he's plinking his fingers in the air, playing an imaginary cello, mouthing notes to himself. But Steadman's right there, backing me up.

Everyone claps for Sarah, probably because she's finished at last. And Zack gets to his feet. He looks as if he's a hundred years old. It takes him that long to get to the stand.

Old Lady Campbell is nodding. Her scarf flows. She loops Fred's leash around the edge of the grandstand, pins a note to his collar, and moves away. Her whole seat is orange. Not fast-drying paint after all.

Steadman and I follow Diglio across the round, but we lose sight of him as he circles Tinwitty's balloon.

I hear frothing behind me, but there's no time to look back. It's too bad I don't look at anything that's ahead of me. I trip over the shopping cart that we left there earlier.

I stagger forward and trip over the rope that holds down the balloon. I hear it snap as I hit the next one, and that snaps, too. The balloon basket tips and I fall headlong into it. The frothing thing, Fred, dives in after me.

And then we're rising, spinning, as the planes from Sturgis zoom away. Under me are lights, the grandstand, Zack …

All getting smaller, smaller.

And who's that screaming? I peer over the side of the basket. With one hand Steadman holds on to the trailing rope. Under his arm is the black box.

It's a moment of horror. “Steadman!” I yell, watching his legs dangle. I can't believe it; I can hardly breathe. If something happens to him, it will be the end of everything. “Hold on!” I yell. “Please hold on.”

I grab the end of the rope and pull. He's heavier than I thought, and the wind whips around us. But finally I reel him in like a trout, until he collapses into the basket. I put my arms around him. “You're safe,” I say.

“I know it,” he says back.

So it's Fred, Steadman, and me. And don't forget the black box tied up with rope, a splash of orange paint on one side.

We're all heading for the stratosphere.

Over my head, the rip in the canvas is growing. “Help!” I yell, but everyone is listening to Zack.

We crouch there, watching the world tilt underneath us. Old Lady Campbell throws her cane under the bleachers. She hobbles across the town round.

Fred is trying to bury himself under Steadman. He looks terrified. I don't blame him. I'm terrified, too. We're
getting higher by the moment. The wind blows, the canvas flaps, the rip grows.

From behind Steadman, Fred begins to chew on the ropes that cover the bomb box.

And Steadman is loving all of it. “Hey, look!” he shouts. “Fred wants to see the bomb.” He grins. “I took the bomb away from William. He thought it was your treasure.”

William? Has the world gone crazy?

But I have a quick flash in my mind of Sarah Yulefski at Vinnie's garbage. It was William she saw taking the bomb. William, who must have been spying on us.

Now Diglio looks up. His mouth opens as if he can't believe what he's seeing. “Hey!” he yells. “Hey!”

Zack stops playing, and everyone in the grandstand turns and looks up at us, too. Linny takes a few steps, arms out, crying, “
Hunnnnn-terrrrr!
” And is that her friend Becca crying, too?

I'm glad they feel bad for me, because when Pop gets out from under the popcorn machine he's going to banish me to my room for the rest of the summer. And Steadman, too. That is, if any of us are alive. We're sailing toward the woods now. As soon as we're over the trees, I'll lean over the side and hurl the bomb as far away from us as I can.

Fred growls at me from behind Steadman. Gingerly I reach down and take the note from his collar. It's addressed to Zack and me. What's that all about?

But Diglio is doing something really strange. He's
climbed into the fire truck and is zooming toward the woods, his head out, watching us. Wouldn't you know! He still hopes he can capture the bomb.

And what is Old Lady Campbell doing? She's hopped into the old Sturgis Air Force Base plane. For a quick second I think of the pictures in her kitchen drawer. All of them have to do with planes.

But now the propellers whirl and Old Lady Campbell takes off, wearing the goggles, the scarf streaming; she barely misses us as she turns west.

Diglio is underneath us now. He's reaching out and out … any minute he's going to crash into the trees that are coming up in front of us. Yeow. And so are we.

That's exactly what happens. Diglio and the balloon hit the same tree at the same time. Leaves and small branches drift into the basket. And Fred climbs into Steadman's lap.

Diglio climbs the ladder toward us as I reach for the bomb. “Don't!” he yells. “Don't—”

But it's too late.

Chapter 19

I shove the bomb over the side of the basket. The box crashes into a branch just below us, the half-chewed rope separates, and the top sails off. What's inside is the most disgusting—

mess—

of dead goldfish.

Five of them.

They fly into the air almost as if they have wings. One lands on me, another on Fred. He opens his mouth and devours it. The rest splatter down onto Diglio's upturned face.

“My poor wife Olyushka's dead fish,” Diglio moans.

Olyushka? That's Mrs. Diglio's name? Not the name of a bomb?

But what about Bom/Twin?

Here's something else. As Diglio teeters on the ladder, someone climbs the tree toward us.

I peer down. It's Mom.

“Good work, Five,” she tells Diglio as she wedges a foot into the V of a branch above her.

Diglio is Five?

“Thanks, Six,” he says.

He grins at us. I have to say his teeth are perfect. “Your mom and I used to call each other agents when we were kids,” he says. “I lived at Five Ann Court; she lived at Six.”

I close my eyes, trying to make sense of everything. Steadman's photo of Diglio, leaning over a victim whose face is filled with horror. Probably just a patient getting a tooth pulled.

Cheech!

Diglio on the phone. My name, Hunter. He wanted to take care of me. Zack, too, I'm sure.

But
dig.

I must have said it aloud. “Not digging exactly,” Diglio says. “Just another word for searching.”

“Searching for what?”

“The original Tinwitty soup recipe,” Diglio says.

Over my head, high up, the old plane grinds along.

Mom looks up. “The Bom/Twin,” she says.

That's the name of a plane?

Cheech, I tell myself again. And then I think of the revenge note sailing out of the shopping cart. I think of Old Lady Campbell at the library that day, dropping everything. Dropping a note to herself?

Revenge?

Why?

We climb down the fire truck ladder, one after the other, Fred holding on to Steadman.

“It's time to announce the soup winner.” Mom sounds a little out of breath.

We head toward the town round like a parade, Steadman and Fred in front. I'm next. Mom and Diglio come up in back of us. I hear them whispering and I slow down, looking up at the stars as if I'm thinking about a constellation or two.

Diglio is talking. “It's fortunate I was there to save these kids. It's all that karate I do. The tae kwon do.” He shakes his head. “I have to say, though, your kids are desperadoes. I keep trying to look after them, but it's as hard as looking after their teeth.”

I take a quick look back to see Mom give Diglio a St. Dorothy smile. “You're telling me something I don't know?”

In front, Steadman whispers, “What's Diglio talking about, anyway? He didn't save us. We saved ourselves.”

Everyone is waiting. Mom climbs the steps to stand in front of Lester Tinwitty's soup kettle. She waves her hand at the winning pot of soup on top.

The crowd ducks as the plane with Old Lady Campbell dives down and loops over the town round.