Brass Monkeys Read online

  “I hope you’re getting a real good look,” whispered Ray.

  “Too good,” I said.

  Skylight bubble windows bulged out of the walls like demented insect eyes, and doors composed of glued books opened onto rickety balconies. Along the upper roof were several gloomy belfries made from hammered band instruments.

  I leaned out a bit to look at the humongous doors of the front entrance. They must have been twenty feet high with a set of steps nearly as wide.

  “Ain’t that a jolly-looking place?” said Ray.

  “It looks like a dream home for retired maniacs,” I said.

  “Hey, now you’re seeing it, Bumpus-man. And you’re telling me you want to go inside that stinky old joint?”

  “I don’t want to, Ray. I have to.” I paused. “My friends are in there.”

  “Yeah, right—friends.” Ray grimaced. “I know that’s a big deal, but still.”

  I turned and looked at him. “It is a big deal, Ray, because I put them there.” My eyes were filling. “I did something stupid back in Grindsville.”

  He stared at me and I was afraid he was going to ask me what I had done. But all he said was “Oh.” Then he added faintly, “Man, that wasn’t bright.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  Ray sighed, then flashed me a sympathetic look. “Okay, big brain, so how do you figure to get inside? You can’t just walk in the front door.”

  My lips were dry from fear, but I managed to say, “Of course not. For crying out loud, I’ve got a plan.”

  Ray’s eyes lit up eagerly at this, and right away I wanted to kick myself.

  “That’s cool,” said Ray. “I knew you must have some kind of super-duper, monster plan up your sleeve. I remember McGinty saying to Webster, ‘I want that real smart kid.’ So what’s your plan?”

  “Okay. See, what I’ve got in mind here,” I began foggily, “is to sprint to that big pipe over there.” I pointed at a large pipeline that led from the building and then disappeared under the sand.

  “And that’s the drainage pipe itself,” said Ray. “Or so the drones say.”

  “Exactly,” I said, acting as if I knew that all along. “So what we do … is get behind that and follow it to the wall of the building, then jump over, slip in that side door, and presto pasta, meatballs and sauce, we find the entrance to the pipe! And the rest is simple.” I clapped my hands together with a brisk little pop.

  Ray wrinkled his nose. “That’s your plan? Presto pasta and the rest is simple?”

  “That’s the main part,” I said weakly. “I mean sure, there’s more.”

  “I don’t know, man.” Ray was licking his lips nervously. “What about the camera mounted right over the door? They’re on every door, and the way I hear it, they’re set to go off at the teeniest movement.”

  I hadn’t seen the camera at all, but I said, “Right, right, I know that. But let’s not get ahead of the plan. I’ve got something in mind for the old camera.”

  Ray frowned and started shaking his head. I could tell he was on the verge of backing out and I knew I had to do something fast, so I simply leaped up and started running for the drainage pipe.

  I couldn’t hear Ray’s footsteps, and for a second I thought he had abandoned me, but when I hit the sand next to the pipe, he landed right behind me. I motioned to him and we started crawling along the big pipe.

  We started out slowly, but fear overtook us and we ended by scrambling wildly toward the wall of the school. Just as we reached it, a choral group inside the school started singing some really depressing music. I stopped quickly, nausea flowing over me. I turned to Ray to get his reaction.

  He looked panicky. “I’ve heard it before,” he whispered tensely. “It’s called ‘The Dark Road Ahead.’ The drones told me it’s a song that tells the kids what kind of crappy future they’ve got coming and telling them to get ready for it.”

  I shuddered and sat back against the pipe. My nerve was starting to go. Like a giant wave, the impossibility of the whole thing swept over me.

  I was sure Ray could see the fear in my face, but all he said was, “So what’s next, man? What do we do now?”

  “Okay, now.” I said, then my mind went blank. I knew the door was on the other side of the pipe. But how to get to the door with the camera there?

  “If that camera picks us up, we’re goners!” Ray’s voice broke out of its whisper.

  “Ssshh!” I didn’t say anything more because I knew my voice would shake.

  Ray was staring at me, his eyes lit with fear. “So what do we do?”

  “I’m thinking,” I managed to say, my voice sounding strangled.

  With a loud rumble, some heavy machinery began moving behind the wall.

  Ray groaned softly. “That’s it, man. I say we get out of here while we can.”

  Before I could answer, a terrible screaming sound came from inside. Without another word, Ray started crawling away. Frantically I grabbed at him.

  “Ray, wait. Don’t leave me.”

  “I’m not going in there, Bumpus-man. No way.”

  I held his arm desperately. “Ray, I need you. You’re the Hulk, you’re—”

  He shook his head doggedly. “No, I’m not. I always wanted to be, but man, when it gets right down to it … Listen, this ain’t comic book talk now, and that sure ain’t a comic book school.”

  “Raymondo, listen, I’ve got a plan,” I broke in feverishly, but even as I said the lie, I knew it was no use.

  “It’s nothing against you,” he went on. “I know you’re a big-brain and all and maybe your plan is a good one. It’s just … it’s too danged dangerous.” He unzipped his pack quickly and handed me his slingshot, the sack of stones, and then a couple of smushed sandwiches. Last, he unsnapped the canteen from his belt.

  “No, Ray, I can’t take your water,” I began.

  He shook his head. “Take it. I can get more.” He expelled his breath softly. “Good luck, Bumpus-man. I hope you free Harriet and your friends before the bad stuff. And I hope I see you again some time and we’re still buddies.”

  Without another word he started crawling along the pipe.

  “Ray, wait.” I didn’t think he’d stop, but he did. “You’d better have this.”

  He looked startled as my ballpoint pen landed in the sand close to him. He picked it up. For a moment, his face crumpled. “Flame on, Bumpus-man,” he said, and then he began crawling away again.

  I sat there stunned and watched him go. I kept thinking, “He’ll change his mind. He’ll come back.” But he didn’t, and finally he was out of sight.

  I was alone.

  31

  a darn and loathsome place

  I don’t know how long I sat huddled next to the pipe, rocking in fear and holding onto the trumpet as if it were some kind of security blanket. It was probably only minutes, but it seemed like years before I could gather my frightened wits.

  “Get a grip, you biscuit-head,” I muttered. “Think!”

  My mind was a whirl of fear and confusion, but then I remembered McGinty’s book. I pulled it out and stared at it. Now I thumped it decisively.

  “This book is power, men,” I whispered to my phantom squad. “As long as we have it, we still have a chance.”

  I thrust it back inside my shirt, and just as I did, the singing stopped. The sudden silence went through me like a jolt of electricity. Time was slipping away.

  “Okay, men,” I mumbled, “I’ve got a hot plan to get by that camera.”

  I put the trumpet down, fumbled open the sack of stones, and removed one. I stuck it into the pouch of the slingshot and shot it against the wall. The stone hit and clattered around and I heard the camera hum into action. I peeked over the pipe and found the camera nozzle turning away, looking for the stone.

  In a flash, I thrust the slingshot and stones inside my shirt, grabbed the trumpet, and vaulted over the pipe. I could hear the camera starting back, and I prayed I could get to the door first
. I crossed the few yards at a terrified gallop, yanked open the door, and slipped quickly into a room that was pitch black.

  I was inside the School of the Brass Monkeys.

  The door clicked shut behind me so fast I didn’t have time to see what kind of place I was in. I simply stood in the dark and listened to my frightened breathing. It didn’t take me long to realize I wasn’t alone.

  I strained to see. I heard a loud cough and then someone gagging as if he or she might throw up, and these noises echoed as they can only in a gymnasium. Slowly, as I grew used to the darkness, I began to see things. I was in an alleyway between the bleachers, and the bleachers were filled with students … Grindsville students. The whole monkey crowd was sitting rigidly, staring ahead.

  I took a cautious step forward, looking for Harriet, Weeser, and Alvin, but I couldn’t see them. There was no sign of any teachers.

  My eyes caught another detail now—the gym floor. It had a strange, wavy surface that looked like small dark waves on a sea. I couldn’t imagine how you could play any kind of game on it.

  Then, so faintly I wasn’t sure I heard it, there came a deep, throbbing sound. It swelled in volume, and I instinctively moved back into the shadows. Finally it dawned on me that the sound was coming from some overhead speakers. Some guttural voices joined in and began chanting. At first I couldn’t make out the words, then slowly they too grew louder and I heard “No light, no laughter, no promise, no hope! This is what we like to see! This is what a school should be! BRASS MONKEYS!”

  With a loud, electrical SNAP the stage curtain suddenly lit up like a planetarium. Little figures were projected onto it and began darting about, forming amazing patterns. They were brass-colored monkeys, all with fiendish grins. It had to be the Kaleidoscope thing Lilah and Teddy had talked about. I glanced back at the kids to get their reaction and spotted Harriet.

  She was sitting on the other side of the bleacher alleyway about ten rows up. I could just make out her profile, and I could tell she was staring at the dancing monkeys. Even in the dim light and covered with fur, her face was beautiful.

  I started toward her, but my eyes kept roving back to the flying monkeys. They formed intricate patters on the curtain, coming together, then pulling apart in a fantastic dance. I stopped so I could see them better, and I felt myself slipping into a frightening void.

  With a great effort of will, I forced myself to look away. I found myself studying a long black pipe that came into the gym at the far end of the stage. I don’t know how long I stared at it before I realized it was the drainage pipe.

  The big cylinder ran along below the stage lip and disappeared out the far wall. It was the pipe that led to the Blue Grotto. It had to be. As I studied it, my heart skipped a beat. I saw a large round door with a wheel to open and close it. The way into the pipe.

  My excitement died abruptly as the doors on the far side of the gym opened and in strode Ming, Strobe, and Fundabore, followed by the stunted figure of Devos. With fear surging through me, I slipped under the bleachers, on the opposite side from Harriet, trying not to bang the trumpet on the metal supports.

  Ming and the others came toward the stands, talking loudly and walking in a weird, mincing manner across the wavy floor.

  Almost immediately I heard Devos mention my name, but the others were all talking so I couldn’t make out the other words. They came to a stop by the bleachers and I figured Harriet and the others would be watching Ming, but they never even blinked. They just stared at the flickering monkeys.

  Ming held up a remote control and the racket from the overhead speakers died down, but Strobe, Fundabore, and Devos went right on jabbering loudly.

  “Hold it, you nattering nitwits,” cried Ming. She turned to Devos. “You saw two renegade boys in the sand hills and you think one of them was Eugene Wise? Is that the gist of your pathetic report?”

  “I saw them, and I was so close to catching Wise,” Devos said in his fluty voice.

  “Close?” sniffed Strobe. “Close only counts in horseshoes.”

  “There’s a brilliant remaark,” said Fundabore, and dust issued from his nose.

  “Shut up,” snapped Strobe. “If I had a nickel for every dumb, boring remark you’ve made over the years, I could retire to the Bahamas.”

  “With your faace,” retorted Fundabore, “the mooon would be a beeetter bet.”

  Strobe lunged at the taller Fundabore, but Ming stepped between them.

  “Ah, retirement,” she said. “What a comforting thought when I think about having to work with you imbeciles. I ask you to catch one skinny boy who’s carrying the one thing that can destroy me, and can you do it? Not a chance!”

  “Well, I was close!” said Devos in a pouting voice. “And what’s more, I drove him out of hiding with a music box and I’m certain he’s heading this way.”

  Ming turned and eyed him sharply.

  “You’re joking. Why would the fool come toward the very thing he fears?”

  “Because,” Devos said, his voice squeaking in his excitement to give the answer, “terrified prey always come straight to the spider’s web.”

  “There’s an irritating comparison,” snapped Ming, and then she turned quickly to squelch a grin from Strobe. “Where were they when you saw them last?”

  “They were in the Sand Hills,” replied Devos, “but headed straight for us.”

  “Ridiculous,” said Fundabore. “They’d be tooo frightened to cooome this way.”

  Ming nodded. “I agree. It all sounds too unlikely. Yet there was always something rash, even foolish, about Wise. But if it isn’t him, who else could it be?” She took a couple of steps and peered off into the gloom of the gym. “Who would dare come to my school, without an invitation?”

  I was kneeling in the shadows and trying hard to melt into a bleacher stanchion, but I mouthed soundlessly, “Only the biggest fool in the universe.”

  “Frankly, it doesn’t matter,” came Devos’s high voice, “because I intend to have him in custody before the day is out. And I’ll hand you the book, personally.”

  “Well, isn’t that wonderful,” said Ming in an acid voice. “My little Kansas wheat bug. You’re quite a braggart for being such a little bug. Still, you are a faithful and diligent bug, aren’t you?”

  Ming grasped Devos by the neck, and I could tell she was squeezing it.

  “I do my best,” whispered Devos, his eyes bulging out.

  “Do better,” hissed Ming. “Find Eugene Wise or I swear I’ll send you back to that stinky little school in Kansas. Principal Devos,” she added sarcastically.

  “I was a good principal,” gurgled Devos.

  “Oh please. You were the worst!” cried Ming. “You hated the students and you hated the teachers. You were such a bad little man in Kansas, Franklin, but simply perfect for us down here. Now, go find the boy and that wretched book!”

  She shoved him violently away and Devos nearly fell. He recovered, then limped angrily out the door while the others laughed themselves silly.

  “For some reason,” said Ming, “I think the wheat bug might be right.” She stopped laughing. “That rash boy might very well be headed here because all afternoon I’ve had the strangest sensation—that I was smelling some new, delightful Amberlight.” She snapped around and looked right in my direction. “Could it be Eugene’s?”

  32

  the zombie basketball team

  For a terrifying moment I thought Ming had seen me, but she hadn’t. She was simply looking at the kids. Now she raised her arms in an all-embracing gesture.

  “Welcome, Grindsville students! Welcome to my school! I hope you’re nicely settled in and feeling anxious and unhappy! That’s it, look at me!”

  The crowd lowered their eyes from the dancing monkeys and stared blankly at Ming. I watched helplessly as Harriet did the same, but I noticed immediately that she did more than lower her eyes. She shifted about nervously and then passed a hand over her eyes as if trying to clear the cob
webs.

  “Aren’t those brass fellows fascinating?” Ming cried. “Such interesting patterns, those unhappy shifting monkey scenes of your past. But now we’ve come to the most important three days of your lives, when all those bad educational moments will come together to stamp themselves forever on your tiny minds.”

  Ming paced in front of the stands while Strobe and Fundabore watched with faint smirks. Meanwhile, I hugged the stanchion, fear pounding through me.

  “Up above in Grindsville you were prepared well,” Ming continued. “The school was ugly, sterile, and wonderfully gloomy. The rooms were nicely boxy and crowded, and the teachers magnificently depressed and spiritless. When my friends and I arrived, we did the best we could to make it worse! We drove out the good teachers and brought in some deliciously disturbed people. Then there was our little black and yellow paint job, which I believe was a true inspiration and certainly enhanced the depressing quality of the place. And did your parents ever protest, or actually try to intervene? They did not! Their lovely heads were occupied with TV and other important trivia. All in all, it was the best possible spot to educate your tender young minds. And now, I’m simply going to finish the process.”

  “In our three fantastic classrooms I’m going to show you the real meaning of confusion, boredom and fear—the grand ingredients of a true education. And then, as a special surprise, on your third day I’m going to show you my secret classroom where we’ll take your Amberlight as a little memento of your trip down here. But now, on to our first hour class!”

  Fundabore snapped his fingers and a spotlight came on, revealing a drone band seated in the far corner of the gym. He gave them a downbeat in his usual stiff manner and they began the awful “March of the Midnight Scholars.”