Текст книги "Attack of the BULLIES"

Автор книги: Michael Buckley

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

“Next thing she’s going to tell us is she’s from outer space. Do you know Luke Skywalker, too?” Carmello said when Rupert’s team had reassembled to hear Ruby, Agent Brand, and Heathcliff plead their case.

“Wow, you are even more annoying than your file suggests,” Ruby said to the boy.

“If you’re NERDS from the future, show us your gadgets,” May said.

Ruby looked at Heathcliff, then back at the kids. “We don’t have gadgets. We’re the gadgets. I’m filled with these things called nanobytes and—”

“Nano-what?” Minnie whispered.

“Microscopic robots that enhance our weaknesses,” Heathcliff said.

“Fascinating,” Mikey said.

“Oh, yeah?” Carmello said to Heathcliff. “What can you do?”

“Well, um … I used to have these big buck teeth and I could hypnotize anyone who looked at them, but they got knocked out and now I’m in between powers … but Ruby’s got superallergies,” Heathcliff said defensively.

“Superallergies!” Carmello shouted. “The future sounds pretty bogus. I’m going home to play Pong.”

Ruby stepped in front of Carmello. “All right, big guy. You want proof: Try to get past me.”

“I would never hit a girl or a person wearing glasses, and you’re both.”

Carmello tried to step past her, but Ruby stopped him with a punch to his flabby chest.

“Ow! That hurt!”

“Keep coming,” she said.

“I’m not fooling,” Carmello roared. “If you hit me again, I’ll—”

Before he could finish, Ruby slapped him in the face five times.

“I’m allergic to empty threats,” she said.

Carmello stomped his feet like an overgrown toddler. His face was red from anger and welts. “Fine!” he shouted, charging like an angry bull. Ruby leaped up and roundhouse-kicked him in the face. He fell down hard and stayed there.

“Let’s see her attack a smaller target,” Minnie said, activating her cloak.

Heathcliff watched Ruby move with lightning speed and land thunderous punches at what looked like nothing but air. She spun around and there was an “Oof.” She shot her knee upward and there was an “Aargh.” She jabbed a wicked uppercut and then there was a thump followed by a weak “I quit.”

When Minnie reappeared, she was on the floor with the beginnings of a black eye. “I believe her,” she croaked.

“This is a very important mission. The people we are going to confront are dangerous. Can we count on you?” Brand asked the bewildered kids.

Rupert nodded. “We’re in. We’ve only got one problem,” Rupert said. “We’re actually really lousy spies.”

“The worst,” Mikey said.

Ruby looked at Heathcliff and Agent Brand. “What can we teach them before I disappear?”

Heathcliff, Ruby, and Brand led the NERDS into a training room. Heathcliff was thrilled not only to meet such legends but also to feel like a full member of the team once again. Ruby was no longer giving him meaningless jobs to keep him busy.

Brand taught the children all he could about submission holds, pressure points, using leverage against opponents, and using their minds to combat muscles. His years of secret-agent training and knowledge of dozens of fighting styles were spread out before the freshman spies, and Heathcliff hoped they would take advantage of what they learned.

Ruby focused on intelligence, preparing the children for the environment they would soon visit and going over all the information about the BULLIES and Miss Information she had collected.

Heathcliff turned his attention to each of the children’s gadgets, helping them understand their capabilities, and even managed to find new ways to use them. Rupert could combine lenses to produce a bright flash that could temporarily blind an opponent. He expanded Macramé’s handiwork from yarn and knitting needles to rope and wire and even discovered she could chisel away at hardened concrete with her superfast hands. He taught Ghost how to expand her cloaking technology to hide other people and objects as big as cars. He taught Static Cling how to create a charge in his hair that he could hold and build in strength, making his electrical blast infinitely stronger. Mikey wanted to be known as Fantastic Boy for his ability to invent gadgets on the fly. Unfortunately, of all the agents, he was the most vulnerable in a fight.

“So,” Mikey said, grim-faced. They sat before a workstation he was using to create his inventions. “I sort of stink.”

Heathcliff shook his head. He knew exactly how Mikey felt. “No, you have the best gadget of the bunch. You’ve got a very imaginative brain. Your head will probably save the world more than the other gadgets combined. What have you been working on? Maybe there’s something here that you can use as a weapon.”

Mikey showed him a long stick with a claw on the end. When he pushed a button on its tip, the claw contracted. “It’s for getting things off of high shelves. I call it the Gator Grabber.”

“Um, probably not going to be much help unless your bad guy is hiding on top of a Christmas tree,” Heathcliff said. “What else?”

Mikey handed him what looked like a harpoon gun with a plunger on the end. “This is the Suction Gun. It’s also for getting things off of high shelves.”

“Right,” Heathcliff said as he tried to hide his nervousness. “You seem to have a thing about high shelves.”

“I’m tall, so everyone asks me to get things for them,” Mikey grumbled. “I build these things so people will leave me alone.”

“OK, but we need something that might be intimidating,” Heathcliff said.

“Oh! I got it!” Mikey scooped up what looked like a pair of Moon Boots made of metal. He slipped them on his feet and grinned. “What do you think? I call them Extend-o-boots. They’re designed to help you get—”

“—things off of high shelves?”

Mikey nodded, then frowned. “Yeah.”

Heathcliff forced a smile. “Maybe your skills are better suited for communications or planning.”

Mikey nodded. “Maybe you’re right.” He leaned over to take off the boots, and with a loud “Oops!” the boots extended him thirty feet off the ground on two spindly stilts.

Heathcliff craned his neck to look up at the boy. “Wow!”

“Sorry, the trigger is pretty sensitive,” Mikey said as the stilts lowered him back to the floor.

“How high can those go?”

“About forty feet,” the boy shouted. “But I could design them to go as high as a hundred. Why?”

“I think we’ve found something we can use,” Heathcliff said. “These amazing boots make you into some kind of butt-kicking beanpole. In fact, that would be a great code name for you—Agent Beanpole!”

The boy scowled as he descended to his normal height. “That’s the dumbest code name I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, they can’t all be winners. They used to call me Choppers—wait, what’s that?” Heathcliff asked, pointing to the massive silver box behind the desk.

“Benjamin!” Mikey cried. He pushed a button on the box’s side and it glowed with a blue light. “It’s called a computer. The other guys think I’m wasting my time, but someday it will help the team with its missions—if I can ever get it working.”

Heathcliff removed his backpack and took out the two halves of Benjamin he was trying to reassemble. “You’re not wasting your time.”

Mikey took the pieces and examined them closely. “This is my work. I mean, it’s super tiny, but this motherboard is my design! It works! Benjamin works!”

“Actually, it doesn’t at the moment. It’s damaged. I almost had it working again, but I had a setback,” Heathcliff said.

Mikey put on a set of goggles with thick lenses. “Well, it needs some wiring replacement, but I see a problem already. You’ve got a conductor in the wrong position.”

He took a set of tweezers and went to work on the robot’s inner workings. Heathcliff heard a click and then Mikey handed it back.

“That should do the trick. I’ve got some copper wiring over there if you need any, and feel free to use my tools. I’d love to see how he turned out.”

Heathcliff grabbed a few things he would need, thanked Beanpole, and shoved Benjamin into his backpack just as May approached.

“Agent Brand says we need to go. We’re about as ready as we’re gonna get,” she said.

TOP SECRET DOSSIER

CODE NAME: UNCLE MITCH

REAL NAME: MITCH CASTO

ACTIVE: 1998

CURRENT OCCUPATION: MANAGER OF A WAVERUNNER COMPANY

HISTORY: MITCH, THE UNCLE OF

FORMER AGENT AMOS “JUNIOR”

CASTO, DISCOVERED THE PLAYGROUND

WHILE SPYING ON HIS NEPHEW’S

AFTER-SCHOOL ACTIVITIES. HE GOT

TRAPPED INSIDE THE UPGRADE

ROOM, WHERE IT WAS DETERMINED

HIS BIGGEST WEAKNESSES WERE HIS

HANDLEBAR MUSTACHE AND

THIN COMB-OVER HAIRCUT. HE

WAS GIVEN THE NANOBYTE VERSION

OF A TRIM AND A SHAVE, EMERGING

WITH HAIR PLUGS AND LESS

RIDICULOUS FACIAL HAIR.

UPGRADE: DESPITE BEING

INJECTED WITH NANOBYTES, UNCLE

MITCH HAD NO POWERS AND SPENT

MUCH OF HIS TIME FLIRTING

WITH SCIENCE TEAM MEMBERS AND

SECURITY GUARDS. SHORTLY AFTER,

HIS UPGRADES WERE REMOVED

AND THE UPGRADE CHAIR WAS

REPROGRAMMED SO THAT NO ADULT

COULD RECEIVE NANOBYTES.

When the time machine flashed into August 16, 1987, Miss Information realized that perhaps she should have entered more detailed information about exactly where in Washington, D.C., the machine should drop them. It occurred to her that they could have appeared right in the middle of traffic and been hit by a bus. But there was nothing barreling at them. In fact, there was nothing in the street at all except for a few parked cars. It seemed peculiar that a street in downtown Washington, D.C., during lunch hour would be so empty, but perhaps it was just her good luck. One thing was for sure: She had an incredible sense of déjà vu.

“Welcome to 1987, team. There’s no Wi-Fi, no iPhones, no Facebook, and MTV still plays music videos,” she said.

“What’s a music video?” Tessa asked.

Miss Information frowned, suddenly feeling very old. “I hate you. I hate all of you.”

She pressed a button on her time machine and watched it collapse into a small box.

She hefted Alex onto her back and pulled Benjy out of her pocket. The little robot floated next to her, buzzing and tweeting.

“Many of my functions are inoperable, including telecommunications. I’ve concluded that the satellites needed don’t yet exist at this point in time.”

“But you still have our list of targets, correct?” she said.

“I do. In fact, the first one should be along any moment.”

Everyone peered down one end of the empty street, then they turned to peer down the other. No one was coming in either direction.

“You sure about that?” Tessa asked.

“I’m quite certain,” Benjy said.

“Something’s wrong,” Miss Information said.

“Where are all the cars?” Snot Rocket asked.

“Benjy dear, what time is it, exactly?” Miss Information asked.

“Two thirty,” he said.

“Two thirty in downtown D.C. You shouldn’t be able to walk across this street, let alone stand in the middle of it for five minutes, without seeing so much as a kid on a bicycle.”

“That’s ’cause we redirected the traffic,” a girl said as she stepped into the road. Miss Information recognized her at once. It was the poofy-haired kid with the superallergies—Ruby Peet. “There’s a very important person on his way to the immigration office and we wanted to make sure he got there unharmed.”

The migraine came on full force. Miss Information’s brain felt like it was going to break in two. Was this real or was it a dream? She couldn’t be certain. Whenever one of the NERDS showed up, she lost her focus. But why? “How did you find us?”

“We followed you,” Ruby said. “You see, you weirdos have already been to this moment and you made a huge mess. You destroyed a bus, smashed a taxicab, and made a major blunder—you got your faces in the paper. That’s the thing about wearing a black mask with a skull on it, lady. It draws a lot of attention.”

A red-haired boy with glasses stepped next to her. Heathcliff! “It was easy to figure out that you had built a time machine, but we didn’t know how to build one ourselves. That was until you made your second mistake. You shouldn’t leave highly sensitive plans for time machines lying around your secret lair,” he said. “Or leave a toxic trail to said secret lair that was easily tracked. Those are textbook no-no’s for supervillains. Very sloppy work.”

“But that wasn’t your biggest mistake, Lisa,” a man said as he joined the children in the road. He was wearing a tuxedo and using a cane. It was him—the man she dreamed about! But he wasn’t supposed to be real … “Your biggest mistake was pretending to be someone that we could care about, because now you’re surrounded by people who aren’t ready to give up on you.”

All of a sudden she couldn’t stand. Her face felt like it was on fire, scorching her mind and cooking her memories, stirring them into some confusing stew. The name Alexander boomed in her thoughts. Alexander! She looked at her scarecrow boyfriend and then back at the stranger, trying to tell the two of them apart.

The man approached and tried to help her up, but she slashed his face with her fingernails, drawing blood. He fell back in surprise.

“Get away from me,” she cried. “Whatever you think you’ve stopped, you’re wrong. You’re outnumbered. BULLIES!”

Her team circled her, ready to attack.

Five more children joined the trio. She had never seen any of them before, in dreams or in real life. They were a collection of runny-nosed losers holding some weird gadgets—clearly, no match for her BULLIES.

“Kill them!” Miss Information commanded.

Tessa raised her hands. “No!” she cried. “You didn’t tell me I’d have to hurt anyone. I just wanted my dad’s attention and I’ve made things worse. I can’t get my dad back like this.”

“Oh, Code Name to Be Decided, you disappoint me,” Miss Information growled. “BULLIES, break some heads, starting with your leader.”

The BULLIES assaulted everything that wasn’t nailed down. Thor threw an uprooted tree at the NERDS, which missed and crashed into a building. The losers had to leap out of the way of Snot Rocket’s mucus missiles, which blew up a parked car. Tammy’s voice knocked over a phone booth that landed within a foot of Ruby Peet. Funk unleashed a dark cloud of body odor over the entire battle that caused everyone to double over, gagging.

Miss Information watched all the destruction admiringly. These kids were like artists who used violence instead of paint. They were incredible!

Tessa was heartbroken. All this fighting and destruction, and for what? So her daddy would give her a hug? What had she been thinking? Now, here she was, a human target in the middle of an enormous battle. She had to escape. But how?

She scanned the road and quickly spotted her answer. The shiny silver time machine was lying on the sidewalk where Miss Information had dropped it. Ducking explosions, she ran to it and pressed the buttons just like she had seen her wicked boss do. It unfolded right before her eyes. The control panel dazzled with possibilities, but where should she go? And when? Was there some place in all of space and time that she could hide from Miss Information? Her heart sank. The answer was likely no. The woman was relentless, and it wouldn’t be long before she’d be erasing Tessa, too.

If that were the case, she wanted a chance to say good-bye to her family.

She entered an address and a date, and with all her strength she turned the wheel to start the machine. It barely moved. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough, but she had to be. Slowly but surely, with straining muscles and tears streaming down her cheeks, she turned the wheel faster and faster. Tessa Lipton vanished from the year 1987.

When the machine stopped, she stood outside Arlington Memorial Hospital. The readout said July 29, 2001. She pressed the button that shrank the time machine and shoved it in her pocket.

“Hi, I’m looking for someone who just had a baby,” she told the receptionist.

“Are you family?”

Tessa smiled. “I am.”

Moments later, she stood outside room 408, peering through the doorway at her mother and father. They looked so young. Her mom held a newborn girl in her arms. She looked exhausted. Her father was talking on a cell phone.

She checked the hall for prying eyes then transformed her face until it was a match for the receptionist’s.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Lipton,” she said when she slipped into their room. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Her father waved her off, busy with his phone call. Her mother smiled. “This is my baby girl—meet Tessa.”

Tessa smiled at herself. Darn, I was cute, she thought.

“You must be very proud.”

“Oh, we are.”

“Seems like your husband is a very busy man,” she said.

“He is,” her mother said. “He’s running for mayor.”

Her father held the phone to his chest and flashed his best smile. “I hope I can count on your vote.”

“Well, I’m not so sure about that,” Tessa said.

“Oh?”

“I hardly think I could vote for someone who puts his business before his family.”

Her father’s face turned pink with embarrassment. He looked at the phone and flipped it closed. “I feel like I’m going to get a lecture,” he said sheepishly.

It was Tessa’s turn to blush. She had to be careful. She didn’t want to make her parents so mad they would ask to have her removed, especially since this might be the last time she ever saw them.

“What I mean is, a leader has to have time for his family.”

“She’s right!” her mother cried. “You have a brand-new baby girl and you’re on the phone.”

Tessa turned to her mother. “And don’t you make excuses for him missing out on things, Mom—I mean, Mrs. Lipton—you have to put your foot down. This man is going to be the president some day and—”

“President?” her father said.

“Don’t give him any big ideas,” her mother said with a laugh, then turned to her husband. “She’s right, you know. This little girl is going to need you. I don’t want you to run for any office if the family has to suffer.”

Her father thought for a long moment and then smiled. “All right. It’s a deal,” he said, taking the baby into his arms. “Now let me take a look at my little girl. She’s a beauty. Just like her mom.”

“She’s going to love you like crazy,” Tessa said as she opened the door.

“And the feeling will be mutual,” her dad replied.

She congratulated them again, and closed the door behind her. When the coast was clear, she shifted her features back to her own. She smiled, happy that if she were to suddenly not exist that at least she would go knowing that once upon a time, the Liptons were a real family.

Despite the chaos around them, Alexander approached Miss Information with open arms. “Lisa, I can help you.”

“My name is not Lisa,” Miss Information said.

“Fine, Viktoriya. But I know you as Lisa Holiday,” he said.

Viktoriya. Why did that name seem familiar? And Lisa Holiday? Where had she heard that name before? Wait—Lisa was a librarian. She wore cardigan sweaters and baked cookies. She took care of some very special kids and she was in love with a spy. She was Lisa.

NO! SHE WAS MISS INFORMATION.

The NERDS charged. One of the kids shot Thor with a lightning bolt, another built an enormous net out of macramé and tangled Loudmouth inside it. A small, frail girl vanished right before her eyes, and seconds later a floating piece of lumber hit Snot Rocket in the nose. Another kid fired lasers from his eyes, and yet another snatched Funk by the collar and rose on stilts four stories into the air.

The strange man continued toward her. “I know about your past. I know about the spying and the villain virus. I also know that you’ve gone through something that no person could handle. You’re not well, but I can help.”

“I don’t need your help,” she shouted. “And you don’t know me!”

The headache came back, and without warning she reeled back like a cobra protecting her nest. With a sudden, forceful punch, she hit the man on the side of his head. He fell to the ground and lay still.

“Benjy, where did I put my time machine?”

“I observed Ms. Lipton stealing it several minutes ago. I’m afraid it is gone,” the orb clicked.

“Oh, poo!” she said. “Wait! How did this man get here?”

The orb spun around in midair. “My sensors are detecting trace elements of temporal radiation within twenty yards,” it said. “It could be used in a time travel device.”

“Benjy? Do you see that up ahead in the middle of the road?”

“It appears to be a pool of colored plastic balls,” the robot said. “The nuclear signature is emanating from it.”

Miss Information smiled. “Benjy, do you have a date for Ms. Peet?”

“June 14, 1996. On that day, Francis Peet and his fiancée, Sarah Kaplan, married in a beach community called Fair Harbor, part of the Fire Island region of Long Island.”

“Let’s go crash a wedding!”