Hunter Moran Saves the Universe (9 page)

“If you stand on my shoulders,” Zack says, “maybe you can push the cover off.”

And that's what we do. I climb up on Zack. It works better that way because I'm a quarter-inch taller than he is. We slide across the bottom of the pot. Pop would be thrilled. We're cleaning the pot as we're saving our lives.

We're also screaming again, especially Zack. “You're breaking my shoulder bones!” he yells.

I don't answer. My arms are up over my head. For a moment, my fingertips graze the cover. “Hold still, will you, Zack?”

“My toes are burning.” He stamps his feet.

“It's your imagination,” I say, even though I'm not so sure about that.

I lunge up, thinking of Sister Appolonia, her glasses glinting. “
Anything is possible, Hunter Moran. Set your mind to it
.” My mind is on it, but I need another half-inch.

We careen back and forth. Zack is losing his balance, I can feel it. “Hold on!” he yells.

I hold on, but it doesn't do any good. We're like a ship in a typhoon.

And then—

Clunk!

I'm tossed off Zack's shoulders and hit the side of the pot. “I'm dead!” I yell.

“Not yet,” Zack says. He's breathing, so I must be breathing, too.

“Here's what we're going to try next,” he says. “I'm going to stand on your shoulders.”

“It won't work.”

“But this time, we're both going to stand on tiptoes.”

I hear him pulling off his shirt. “I'm fighting for our lives,” he says, and wraps the shirt around my shoulders like a cushion.

And I really need it. His feet are large and clunky. I lean against the side of the pot, up on my toes like a ballet dancer. And then we're both sliding, falling, landing on the bottom of the pot.

We're soup.

But no, I hear a voice outside. Whose voice? Who knows?

“Is somebody in there?”

We begin to yell, to pound, to bang our heels against the side.

There's a grating sound. The cover moves slowly, so slowly I'm not even sure it's really edging across the top of the pot.

An inch. Another inch. I see a head. Eyes peering in at us. And teeth.

Sarah Yulefski!

“What are you guys doing in there?” she asks.

“Just cleaning up,” I say.

“I could see you needed help,” she says, throwing down the rope ladder.

I look up at her braces, festooned with spinach, or maybe broccoli. I open my mouth to say we didn't need any help, but she saved our lives, after all.

“Thanks,” I say.

Zack grips the ladder. He's up and over. He reaches down and I grab his hand. I boost myself up and I'm out.

Still breathing.

And there's Diglio disappearing at the far end of the town round.

“My brother's looking for me,” Sarah says. “But don't worry, I'll catch up to you.”

That's all we need.

“See you tomorrow,” Zack says.

“Or maybe when school starts in the fall,” I tell her.

Zack nudges me. A pair of fat gray squirrels chase each other across the steps, then under the pot, and out the other side.

“No one was trying to burn us alive,” Zack says, reaching for his shirt, which has footprints all over it.

I nod. “Just squirrels.”

We head down the path, leaving the broom to fend for itself in the bottom of the pot.

It may even add to the taste of the soup.

Chapter 16

We head across the street. “There's something to think about,” I say.

“Shirt's full of grit.” Zack scratches away. “Who pushed the cover over the pot?”

We stare at each other. It's very disturbing.

Diglio, of course, trying to warn us.

“But he's lost again,” Zack says, pumping his skinny arm. “We are so tough. It's unbelievable.”

“Right.” And talk about tough, there go Fred and Old Lady Campbell, Fred snapping furiously at a mosquito.

Mom and Pop are almost a block away on their nightly walk. I can almost guess what Zack's thinking. No one knows where we are. Pop will think we've gone home, and, like a miracle, Linny is stuck with Steadman.

Freedom.

“We should go over to Vinny's Vegetables. Get the bomb and bury it somewhere,” Zack says.

“Maybe the woods. It'll just blast out a couple of rocks and a lot of dirt.”

We snake our way around the town round like a pair of cobras so Mom and Pop, who are getting closer, won't see us.

We're on our way. Vinny's is closed. He doesn't spend one extra minute there for hungry people who need vegetables and much more. The back is lit up like a prison exercise yard. Vinny's showing off his garbage pile to the whole world. It's so high, it almost reaches the top of the fence, a good frog's leap from one to the other.

“No problem,” Zack says. “We climb up and jump right in.”

We've had a lot of experience climbing and jumping, but never into piles of slimy carrots and broccoli before. In two seconds we find out about this cyclone fence. The holes are made for Mary's size feet, and the whole thing sways as we begin to shinny up.

“It must be ten feet high,” Zack says between breaths.

Then we're almost at the top. It's a weird world up there. I can see right into the library, and if I angle my head, I can see the filthy tooth that sways over Diglio's office.

Behind us is a voice. I can't look down, but I know who it is. Of course I do.

“Hi, Hunter,” says Sarah Yulefski. “What are you doing up there? Aren't you afraid you'll fall?”

And that's what I do. Right into the arms of Sarah, who has a rim of chocolate around her mouth. At least, I hope it's chocolate. I can't imagine she'd be growing a mustache before she reaches sixth grade.

“Don't worry,” she says. “I've got you.”

She looks down at me. “So do you just like to climb fences?” she asks.

I begin to shake my head, but I see her smiling with those teeth that would give anyone nightmares. “I saw the sign you painted on the grandstand,” she says.

“I never … It wasn't …”

“Why didn't you just open the gate?”

What is she talking about? She points. And now I do see. The lock on the fence is gone.

At the same moment, Zack reaches the top; he teeters there for an instant, then sails across into a pile of banana peels. “Yeow!” he yells.

I move away from Sarah Yulefski. “See you.” I head for the gate.

Sarah goes along with me.

“See you,” I say again, a little louder.

Zack takes giant steps down the hill of rotten vegetables, wiping his sneakers off as he goes. “So long, Sarah,” he calls.

“Are you looking for something?” she asks.

We try to ignore her.

“It must be in there pretty deep,” Zack says. “We'll have to move a ton of stuff.”

He begins to push garbage around. He's filthy and it's getting late. If Mom and Pop get home from their walk before we do, there will be a major inquisition.

“Maybe I can help,” Sarah says. “Is it gold? Diamonds? Cash?”

Zack and I look at each other. We could use someone to crawl around in that mess.

“A black box,” I say.

“Bomb size,” Zack says.

Sarah makes a large square with her hands. “Like this? Rope wrapped around it about a hundred times?”

“That's it,” I say. “Dive right in.”

Sarah kicks at the fence with one sneaker. “Too late. It's gone.”

“It's here,” Zack says. “It didn't walk off by itself.”

Sarah shakes her head. “No, it walked off with someone else.”

I straighten up. “Who?”

“Someone took it. The whole thing was a little sneaky, if you ask me.”

“Who?”

She holds up her crossed fingers. “I can't tell. I promised. Crossed fingers three times.”

I'd like to say it really is a bomb. I'd like to say this is Sarah Yulefski's chance to save Newfield. But there's no time. Sarah's big brother, Jerry, comes up the street and spots her. “Wait till I get you!” he yells.

He reminds me of William.

Sarah splits. Halfway down the alley she calls back, “I loved the sign.”

She disappears and we're left with Vinny's old vegetables and much more.

HERE COMES DAY FOUR.…

Tinwitty Night and maybe …

Chapter 17

“Doomsday,” Zack says, rolling out of bed. We stare at each other.

“We have to find that bomb,” I say.

Zack does that thing with his teeth. “Diglio really means business, locking us up like that. We could have been there until tonight.”

I nod, picturing the lid coming off and a pair of skinny skeletons huddled inside.

The door opens and Steadman lands on my bed. “What's that horrible smell?” He high jumps, aiming for the ceiling.

“Tinwitty soup,” I say.

With one gigantic jump, Steadman's fingers graze the ceiling, leaving a chocolate print.

Downstairs Mom is clanging pots in the kitchen. The bell will be ringing all morning with last-minute entrants. Bowls of soup, pots of soup, vats of soup, everyone hoping to win the trip to the Ozark Mountains.

Outside the noise is deafening. Seven Guys Over
Seventy are weaving down Murdock Avenue practicing, with horns blaring and drums pounding.

And is that Old Lady Campbell marching behind them? A flimsy-looking scarf and a pair of goggles are looped around her neck. Fred bucks along next to her.

Zack and I throw on shorts and go downstairs for breakfast, with Steadman closer than a shadow. The kitchen is steaming. Mom stands at the counter as Linny dips a spoon into a swampy soup and holds it out to her.

“If only I had Lester's recipe,” Mom says, then shudders. “Oh, put this on the back step. There's a rooster head floating on top; its dead eyes are staring at me.”

Steadman follows me outside, making google eyes, imitating the rooster, as Pop comes around the side of the house. “Where are the troops?” he calls. “I need help out here.”

I back into the house, tiptoe down the hall past William's garish painting, and slide into Mom's bill-paying room. From the kitchen, I hear Mom. “Eureka!” she shouts. “I have a winner.”

And there goes Mom's phone. I grab it before the second ring and listen to the static. I whisper-snarl into it, “Yeah?”

“It's Agent Five,” the voice says.

I don't believe it. I roll right into “Six.”

“By tomorrow the whole thing will be over,” the voice says.

Who is it? I know that voice.

But do I really? I can't even tell if it's a boy or a girl, a man or a woman.

“I know it,” I say. “The population gone in one blast.”

“Six?” the voice asks.

“Mmmm,” I say in my deepest, breathiest voice.

Still he/she hesitates.

Could it possibly be Sarah Yulefski? Sarah, a federal agent? Talk about the bottom of the barrel.

“What do you want me to do?” I whisper to keep things going.

A pair of planes from Sturgis Air Force Base zoom overhead. The windows rattle; it sounds as if the roof is ready to cave in. How can I hear?

The caller goes on. “Maybe we'll find the original. I'll search …”

I hear Pop's footsteps. “Is someone in there?” he asks.

I dive behind the desk, cradling the phone in my arms, and stop breathing.

“Are you looking for Hunter?” Linny's voice calls.

Pop doesn't answer. I'm sure he's nodding.

“He's so crafty,” Linny says.

Is the doorknob turning? I set the phone back on the desk. But Pop keeps going down the hall. I head for the kitchen in back of him. I need a massive breakfast for what's ahead of me.

Mom is still at the stove. “A perfect Lester Tinwitty soup,” she says.

I peer into the huge pot. The soup is the color of Zack's favorite socks, almost purple. Small black things float around on top. And is that an eye? I jump back. Yes, it's an eye.

“Exactly the kind of soup Lester ate on his way here,” Mom says. “The same soup he fed the pioneers.”

“Whose soup is it?” I ask.

Mom shakes her head; so does reliable Linny. “Top secret,” Linny says.

We shovel in what may be our last breakfast as Pop tells us what's going on: the fifty-year-old air force bomber from Sturgis, the fire department truck with its huge ladder, and Lester Tinwitty's balloon are all at the town round.

“That balloon is ready to fall apart.” Pop takes a chunk of granola. “Worse, the strings that tie it down look as if they're ready to snap any minute.”

But Mom is frowning. “Strange. This soup seems to match the original recipe perfectly.” She stares into the pot. “It's almost as if someone found the recipe and—”

“That would be cheating,” Linny says.

“More than cheating,” Pop says. “More like stealing a free vacation to the Ozark Mountains.”