Hunter Moran Saves the Universe (6 page)

At last we skitter into the kitchen and grab a pair of tuna fish sandwiches to take with us. Linny blocks the hallway. Not only is she reliable, she has reliably big ears. “I heard Pop tell you to watch Steadman,” she says.

Becca is right behind her, ready to stick her nose into our business. “What are they up to now?” she says.

“Let us pass,” I tell them desperately.

Linny puts her hands on her hips. “Now I'm the one who's been stuck—”

“We're going up to him right this minute.”

Linny pokes her skinny finger in my face. “Good luck. He's locked in his bedroom.”

“And who knows what he's up to,” Becca adds.

“Out of the way,” Zack says, “or get bopped in the beano.”

They step aside and we dash upstairs.

“Remember last night,” I ask Zack when we reach the top, “someone jumped over the fence into Diglio's yard?”

“How could I forget?” But then he sees where I'm going with this. His eyes widen. “You think it was Steadman?” he sputters. “Out in the middle of the night with a buried bomb? By himself in Diglio's yard?”

“Not by himself. We were there.”

Zack breathes in. “He went out the front door.”

“And he was mud filthy—” I begin.

“And ready to play with buried treasure.” Zack leaves tooth marks in his lower lip. “Yeow! The bomb! We're all going to the stratosphere.”

Linny's right as usual. Steadman's door is locked. I rattle the knob.

“Let us in,” Zack says, nose to the crack.

“What's the password?” Steadman asks.

He does this every time. It could be anything.

“Tinwitty Night,” I say through a mouthful of tuna fish.

“Soup,” Zack says.

Steadman's laughing. “Not even close.”

“No time to waste,” I tell Zack.

Zack nods. “Let's go back to our bedroom.”

“We'll eat all that candy.” My voice is loud.

“I'm coming.” Steadman fumbles with the door.

We hear clicks and clacks and rattles.

“It won't open.” He sounds a little frantic.

I crouch down, trying to look through the keyhole. “Just jiggle the thing again.”

He jiggles. Nothing happens.

“Listen, Steadman, what does your buried treasure look like?” Zack asks.

Steadman bangs on the door. “I have to get out of here.”

“Don't worry,” I say.

Zack and I look at each other. We're worried, all right. “Out the window again,” he says.

But this time it's a different route. We race up the attic stairs, jump over a pile of old clothes, push aside our long-dead great-grandfather's picture in what looks like gray underwear, and head for the window. Down below, Mom is still pruning, her shears flashing. Mary's asleep on the grass. William sits in back on the cello's grave.

“Maybe the bomb won't spread out as far as the yard,” Zack says. “The rest of the family might be saved.”

“Are you kidding? St. Ursula's will be a pile of rubble. And forget about Father Elmo's lawn.”

“Fred, too,” Zack says, with some satisfaction.

I push up the window and release a thousand flies outside.

Mom looks up and I duck back. “You'll have to go down there,” I whisper. “Talk about Bach or someone.”

Zack doesn't waste a moment. He clatters down the stairs. I don't waste a moment, either. By the time he's telling Mom about Bach's terrible bout with blindness, I'm out the window backward, reaching for Steadman's sill with my feet. It's terrifying. I don't want to think what will happen if I miss. But we've done this before.

Steadman opens his window and, moving an inch at a time, I finally tumble inside.

I hold out my hand. “Where's the treasure?”

“Where's the candy?”

I reach into my pocket. All I have is a linty Life Saver. I hold it out. I see the black box, trailing dirt and tied up with a rope that has about a thousand knots. It waits for us, like a giant squid ready to destroy us.

I have to think fast.

The weedy woods are only a trek across the street, past the driveway of the empty house, and—

I have a better idea. Lester Tinwitty's soup kettle on the town round! That baby is so thick it'll take the blast easily. Lester would be proud of me.

I grab the box by the rope with one hand, unlock the door and drag Steadman down the stairs with the other.
“Taking Steadman to the park, Mom,” I call over my shoulder.

Zack catches up, and we dash along Murdock Avenue until we reach the town round. Already the stores have put up flags in their windows.

And there it is, the enormous black soup kettle looming up in front of us. We wend our way down the path; up ahead Old Lady Campbell is giving Fred his daily outing.

“Stay down here with Zack, Steadman,” I say. “I'll climb up to the kettle.”

He opens his mouth, but I pay no attention. I climb the six steps slowly, holding the box out in front of me, like
Son of Dracula
, Wednesday night, seven-thirty. I look back over my shoulder. I can see Diglio's, St. Ursula's, and the garbage cans in front of our house.

A plane from Sturgis Air Force Base zooms overhead, and Steadman yells, “What are you doing with my treasure?”

I don't answer. The cover is opened a couple of inches. Not enough. I'll need both hands for this. It's heavy as lead. I put the box down and begin to push. After a minute or two of strongman effort, I raise myself up and peer into Lester's Kettle. It's soup, all right. Candy wrappers, dead flies, and a few leaves float around in a muck of leftover rain. Lester Tinwitty would be horrified.

Steadman starts up the stairs.

“Stand back,” I say, but before I can even add “Bombs
away,” there's something else to worry about. A black-and-white patrol car has just pulled up in front of our house. Two cops with nightsticks bristling from their belts are heading up our front path.

Before I can drop the bomb into the pot, Steadman grabs it and runs, the bomb ticking its life away in his arms.

Chapter 11

“Come back!” I yell to Steadman, who zigzags across the street. He races through Father Elmo's sprinkler and disappears around the side of the church.

We gallop toward the church, too, glancing back at the patrol car.

Zack reads my mind. “Let William with the head on his shoulders take care of the cops,” he says breathlessly.

But Linny is heading our way. “
Hunter! Zack!
” she screeches. You'd think she'd be worried about the cops hauling us off.

Steadman comes back, the bomb gone. Any minute, St. Eggie's head is going to blast off all over Newfield.

Linny doesn't stop with her screaming.

Zack and I duck behind a half-dead tree and peer out at the cops who are standing on our front step.

“Are they after you?” Steadman asks.

I drag him behind the tree with us. “We'll have to hide until all this blows over,” I say.

“Or everything blows up,” Zack whispers.

“What do you think they've got us for?” I ask.

“Pop turned us in because of the laptop.” Zack presses his forehead against the tree trunk. “Or maybe Diglio is having us arrested for trespassing.”

I shake my head. “No, Diglio knows we'd reveal everything during an interrogation.”

Zack nods thoughtfully. “Especially about the bomb.”

“A bomb?” Steadman says.

“No, don't worry,” Zack tells him. “It's a new kind of candy. Bomb—”

“Bombalusa Nut Bar,” I say.

Steadman frowns. He looks at us with some suspicion.

“Really,” I say. “It's delicious.”

But Zack is still whispering. “Diglio will have some story. He's crafty. We'll end up as the bad guys in prison, drinking out of tin cups and wearing those striped outfits.”

“At least you won't have to take cello lessons,” I say, trying for comfort.

Steadman's lower lip trembles. “I have to sleep in my own bed, with my own blanket. And my own treasure.” He takes off running, back around the side of the church.

We can't follow, not yet. One of the cops is looking in our direction as Linny yells her lungs out.

At last, the cop turns toward the door. We wait for a second; then, heads down, we go after Steadman, but he's nowhere in sight.

“Maybe he circled around the other side of the church,” Zack says. “On his way to Murdock Avenue.”

Zack and I race after him, narrowly avoiding Old Lady Campbell on the sidewalk, and Fred, who lets out a frothy growl. “Sorry, Old … Mrs. Campbell!” I yell over my shoulder.

“Practice for the concert, Zack!” she yells back.

Steadman's probably ducked into Vinny's Vegetables and Much More. Zack and I barrel inside, up one aisle and down another. And there's Steadman, hiding behind a cutout of a sparkly-toothed woman with a tube of toothpaste.

How nice that toothpaste tube is. Ours is always dented in the middle, with white stuff stuck to the top. But I have more important things to think about. Steadman sits there, the bomb cradled in one arm and his thumb in his mouth.

I crouch down next to him. “You're not going to prison. You have to be ten years old.”

“
You're
going to prison, then, right?”

“I'll text you all the time.”

Steadman bursts into tears. “What good is that? I still can't read.”

“I'll draw pictures,” Zack says. “And send them.”

“Your drawing is horrible.” He begins to wail. “You're going to prison, too? I'll be stuck with Linny and William.”

“Don't forget Mary,” I say. “You love Mary. We all love Mary.”

Steadman's lower lip sticks out a mile. “What good is Mary? All she does is bang spoons around.”

This is going nowhere. I wrestle the box out of his hands and edge it behind a pile of sardine cans; I kick at the end of the rope so that's hidden too. “We're hiding your treasure,” I tell Steadman. “Keeping it safe.”

The eyes of the sardines that are painted on the cans glare at me. They don't want to be blown to bits, either.

Steadman thinks about it. “I guess.” But he isn't finished. “I'll probably be captured by Diglio.”

Zack and I stare at him. “How do you know about that?” I say at last.

Vinny comes down the aisle. He thinks he's the king of the supermarket world. “You guys again.” He points with his thumb. “Out!”

We step around him and head for the door. All the while he's muttering, “Those Moran kids could drive you crazy.”

Then we're out in the sunshine.

But Zack stops dead. “Where's the bomb?”

I slap my head. “Hanging out with the sardines.”

We sneak back inside and dash down the aisle to the toothpaste display, but the bomb is gone. Vinny with his X-ray eyes probably threw it in his garbage dump out back.

Too bad for Vinny.

But now we have to face the police. We head back to the house. Linny stands at the corner, hands on her hips.
“Where have you been?” she screams. “I thought you were kidnapped. It's a good thing Mom wasn't here. She would have had a heart attack.”

“Does Linny know how to talk in a normal voice?” I ask Zack, loud enough for her to hear.

Becca shakes her head. “How do you put up with them?” she asks.

“Linny's throat will be ruined with all that screeching,” Zack says. “The swelling may cut off her windpipe.”

Linny's mouth snaps shut. Along with kidnappers, she's afraid of choking to death. From the corner of my eye, I see the flashing lights on the patrol car throw a Christmas-red glow over the trees. The cops are talking to William on our front steps.

“Do you know what the police want?” I ask.

“Probably to lock kids like you in jail and throw away the key,” Linny says.

Steadman opens his mouth so wide you can see his back teeth covered in chocolate. He begins to scream.

“Now see what you've done,” Zack tells Linny.

She leans over and gives Steadman a hug. “Not you. You're a great guy.”

Steadman screams on. “It's terrifying,” Linny says over Steadman's head. “William told me before. Pop called. His assistant spent the morning fixing his computer. It was covered with a strange
liquid. The assistant said someone probably hacked into it. Maybe a terrorist who's messing around with making a hydrogen bomb and blowing up the world.”

A terrorist! The pressure is off. “Yee-ha!”

Linny looks at me as if I've lost my mind. But Zack is worried. “Is that why the police are here?” he asks.

“Don't be silly.” Linny looks back toward the cops. “They're talking about Tinwitty Night, how everyone has to help out. Donate money for the big prize, a trip to the Ozark Mountains. They say everyone will be lucky to slurp up some of that winning soup.” She wrinkles her nose. “Gross.”

It's probably the first time Linny and I have ever agreed on anything. Last year someone added a possum tail to the mix. It makes me shiver to think of it.

Zack still looks uneasy. He's thinking about the Tinwitty concert, I bet. I don't blame him. I'd be ready to throw myself in the soup pot if I had to compose a cello piece in two days.

The policemen come down the front path. They don't bother with us, a bunch of innocent kids, one of them screaming so loud you can't even hear yourself think.

But Steadman draws in a mighty breath. When he lets it out, he calls to the cops. “I can help you. I know all about the bomb.”

Chapter 12

“Heh, heh.” Zack's laugh sounds fake, almost like the Joker's in
Batman.

The cops turn to stare at Steadman.

“That's my little brother.” I put my arm around Steadman and shake my head wisely, even though my knees are knocking together. “He can't even read yet. Not a word.”