Cloneward Bound (15 page)

He looked over at Amanda, who had deliberately chosen to sit as far away from Fisher as possible. He wanted to ask more about what, exactly, Two had said to her, but he wanted to plan his approach carefully. Amanda hadn’t spoken to him since the Hollywood Bowl, and he didn’t want to drive her off even more.

Veronica was huddled with her friends, chatting about Kevin Keels. Apparently, he was scheduled to make a guest appearance on an upcoming
Strange Science
episode. Fisher’s blood began to simmer. He wished he’d thought to record the conversation he’d overheard between Kevin and GG, but he’d been so shocked, he hadn’t even thought to whip out his pocket AV equipment.

Fisher scanned the room for FP and finally spotted him, trotting out from behind Dr. Devilish’s worktable.
Close on his heels was Wally the Wombat, who had supposedly powered the lightbulb in the previous day’s experiment. They started what looked like some kind of game. FP would look back at Wally, then stretch out his forelegs a few times, before running forward and hopping into the air. Wally would then try to copy what he did.

Was FP trying to teach Wally how to fly?

Fisher shook his head, cracking a smile for the first time in what felt like forever. At least FP was enjoying LA.

“Ms. Snapper?” said Lucy Fir, walking up to the teacher. Fisher noticed she had retrieved her suit.

“Oh, Ms. Fir,” Ms. Snapper said with a flat smile. “What can I do for you?”

“On behalf of
Strange Science
, I’d like to thank you and your class for your visit and present you with this,” Lucy said, handing a framed, autographed eight by ten headshot of Dr. Devilish to Ms. Snapper.

“Oh my …” she said, taking the frame and gazing down at the picture within. Her expression lit up like a Christmas tree in a power surge. “He must feel awful that he missed our appointment. He’s trying to make amends!”

“I’m sorry?” said Lucy, looking puzzled.

“Never mind, Ms. Fir,” Ms. Snapper said, beaming. “Thank you very much.”

Lucy Fir walked away, still looking slightly confused,
and Ms. Snapper stared adoringly at the picture.

The stage door burst open and in strode GG McGee. She wore a powder-blue suit. Her bright green one was likely away having a several-course meal steamed out of it. She carried Molly in a small, expensive-looking gold bag on her right shoulder.

“Please,” she said in a trumpeting voice to the nearest stagehand, “inform Dr. Devilish that I need a word with him regarding his
Strange Science
contract as soon as possible. There is a matter of some fine print that needs correcting.”

So Dr. Devilish was one of GG’s clients as well. No wonder she’d been hanging around the set.

To Fisher’s horror, GG spied him.

“Basley! What a lucky coincidence!” She clattered over to Fisher, almost knocking over a light technician. Maybe those sunglasses impaired her peripheral vision after all.

“Uh, yeah,” Fisher said. “I’m an admirer of Dr. Devilish’s work. I’m studying his show to see if I can incorporate some of his—er—
talent
into my own technique.”

“Splendid!” McGee replied. “Have you been thinking about the business matters we discussed at our meeting?”

Fisher felt his classmates’ eyes turn in his direction.

“Well,” he muttered, “I haven’t had too much time to
think about it, but I’ll, uh, let you know when I’ve had a chance to speak to my … um, legal team.”
Please go away
, he thought.
Please go away
.

“Let me know,” McGee said, winking. “There’s plenty of work to be done if we want to make our little friend a star. I see a bright future for the both of you, and I want to seize every opportunity that comes to us.… Oh my!” She exclaimed suddenly. Then she brought her hands together to make a little square frame, through which she watched FP and Wally the Wombat as they played around. “Just look at that! The chemistry! The character balance! The cinematic potential!”

“I’m sorry?” Fisher said, looking at FP pushing Wally with his snout, trying to get him to leap higher.

“Those two look like they were born for a screen partnership. They could be the next Luke Skywalker and Han Solo.”

“If … Luke and Han were a pig and a wombat?” Fisher said.

“Exactly,”
McGee said. “Now you understand.”

“I really don’t,” confessed Fisher, but GG ignored him.

With a series of high-pitched barks, McGee’s dog, Molly, hopped out of her bag and joined in the fun, chasing FP and Wally around in circles.

“Look!” GG said, pointing excitedly. “Now we have a Leia, too! Oh, I’m so proud of you, Mollykins!”

“Well, I’ll … give it some thought,” said Fisher. “It looks like the taping’s about to start.”

“Don’t take too long,” GG said, helping Fisher to herd the playing animals away from the set. “There are plenty of other flying pigs just waiting to take his place.” She checked her watch. “Well. It seems our friend Dr. Devilish is too busy at the moment to attend to these
very important matters
,” she said in an irritated tone. “So I’m going to step outside and make a few business calls while I wait. I may just see about getting some work for our little friend!” She reached down to pat FP, whose chomping jaws narrowly missed her hand.

Strange Science
was getting stranger every day. Dr. Devilish was assembling a heaping pile of plastic tubing and barrel-like chambers on his worktable for the second part of the “Fur Spots and Kilowatts” episode. The class sat restlessly on the audience risers, watching him work. Fisher took his place as Wally, Molly, and FP explored underneath the risers.

“It will take a few moments to finish setting up the equipment,” Dr. Devilish trumpeted cheerily.

“Do you need any help?” Ms. Snapper asked, sidling up to his table. “I’d be happy to provide you with any
assistance
you need.” She batted her eyelids so fast, it looked like she was trying to create air currents with them.

“Uh … thank you, but no,” Dr. Devilish said. “This
requires a lot of, um, delicate work and precision.”

“I promise you, I can be very delicate,” Ms. Snapper replied, not budging from his side.

“Sooo!”
Dr. Devilish said, swiveling quickly away from Ms. Snapper, who continued to gaze at him longingly. “I think I’ll ask the studio audience a question! Who can guess what I’m going to be assembling?”

Fisher wished Dr. Devilish were assembling a giant catapult; then he could use it to shoot himself to the moon.

“It looks kind of like a vacuum cleaner,” said Sarah Westbrook, running her many-ringed hand along the pink spikes of her hair.

“Very good!” Dr. Devilish said. “That is exactly what I am creating. For the suction force I’m using this ordinary, household lawn mower engine,” he said, lifting up a small motor that had been set into a large, plastic drum. He began outfitting it with various pieces of plastic and rubber tubing. “Now, for the most crucial part—the filter. What if you haven’t got one on hand? You may be surprised to find out what you can use instead.”

“Ooh, I love surprises,” Ms. Snapper said, winking.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Dr. Devilish coughed nervously and backed away toward his animal cages, pulling the homemade vacuum with him, casting nervous glances at Ms. Snapper, as though worried she would follow him. He
raised his voice to the class again. “Certain animal furs have evolved to be particularly good at picking dust and debris out of the air.”

“Oh, Dr. Devilish!” Ms. Snapper clapped her hands together, making her extra-long, beaded earrings jangle. “How do you
know
all of these things?”

Ms. Snapper’s eyes were locked on him. Dr. Devilish backed up like a trapped antelope under the watch of a lioness, still struggling to make it through his demonstration.

“Education, Ms. Snapper!” he replied with false cheer. “Beauty is an educational thing. I mean, education is a beautiful thing! Anyway …” He cleared his throat and smiled at the audience. “As I was saying! Vacuums! Filters! The rabbit is a creature whose fur is perfectly suited to filter debris. Behold, nature in action!”

He tripped a switch, and the motor came to life. With one hand, he groped behind him. He just missed the rabbit cage and plucked up a raccoon. Before he saw what he was doing, he dropped the animal into a small chamber in the vacuum.

The audience gasped. The machine began sputtering and whining. Fisher could hear the raccoon scrabbling around, clawing and biting at the chamber around it. The vacuum slid forward, then began hopping and bouncing back and forth as the raccoon struggled desperately to escape its plastic prison.

The tubes flailed crazily, lashing through the air with frightening speed. Dr. Devilish barely managed to duck and dodge around the vacuum cleaner as it knocked over lighting and sound equipment, sending showers of sparks through the air. Ms. Snapper screamed and had to dive under the table as an out-of-control vacuum arm lashed in her direction, snapping her purse off her shoulder.

The crew rushed in, trying to get close enough to turn the vacuum off, but the flailing rubber arms were spiraling so fiercely, they were forced to take cover.

“Shut it off! Shut it off!”

“It’s heading for camera A!”

Microscopes and flasks went sailing through the room as the infernal machine traced a slow path of destruction around Dr. Devilish’s lab.

Fisher was so transfixed by the sight of the vacuum and the crowd of people trying to reach it that he didn’t notice Amanda had left her seat until he saw her hurtling onto the stage, dive-tackling the vacuum to the floor and pinning it into a wrestling lock. She was able to hold the vacuum’s arms long enough for Lucy Fir to jump in and turn it off.

A dizzy raccoon stumbled out of the plastic body, scampering in loops before collapsing.

“Oh, Dr. Devilish!” Ms. Snapper said, rushing to his
side and clutching his arm. “Are you all right?”

“No,” he said, taking a deep breath and softly but resolutely prying her arm from his, “but I
will
be, if you would do me the honor of leaving me alone.
Permanently
.” He dusted himself off as Ms. Snapper jerked away from him.

“Thank you!” Dr. Devilish said as he turned to Amanda, who was breathing hard and wiping sweat from her forehead. “You’ve got some impressive skills. I don’t suppose you might be interested in becoming a
Strange Science
assistant, would you?”

Amanda was about to reply when Ms. Snapper stepped in, her forehead creased in a tight frown, her lips drawn thin.

“I remind you, Ms. Cantrell, that we are returning to Wompalog tomorrow,” Ms. Snapper said coldly. She glared at Dr. Devilish. “I’m afraid that will be impossible, Dr. Devilish.”

“Thanks, Dr. D,” Amanda said, shrugging, as Ms. Snapper walked her back to the risers. “But science is my worst subject, anyway.”

He leaned in and gave her an exaggerated wink. “Mine too.”

A man stumbled toward Fisher. One of the plastic tubes that had been used to construct the vacuum was stuck on his head.

“Mmmrrrff! Mrrrf!”
was all that Fisher could hear. Worried that the man might be running out of air, he took a folding chair from nearby, stood on it, and barely managed to pry the plastic tube off. The face of Henry, the ever-troubled sound man, was revealed.

“Henry!” Fisher said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” said Henry, breathing hard. Fisher hopped down from the chair, and Henry collapsed next to him. “You haven’t seen Wally running around, have you? We lost track of him.”

“A minute ago he was playing with my pig.…” Fisher said, trailing off as he looked around. “FP?
FP?
” There was no sign of Fisher’s pet anywhere.

“Molly?” At the same moment, GG McGee’s high-pitched wail pierced the studio. She dropped to her hands and knees, searching under the risers. “Has anyone seen my Molly??”

Filming shut down completely, as all the crew members of the
Strange Science
show, as well as all the Wompalog students and even Dr. Devilish, conducted a thorough search of the studio. But all three animals had vanished. It was getting late. The crew of
Strange Science
assured Fisher and McGee that they would search the lot and the neighboring lots immediately, and swore that FP and Molly would be found before midnight. And if they weren’t found before mid-morning the next day when the class was scheduled to return, they promised to alert the LAPD immediately—a promise that gave Fisher little comfort.

Fisher reluctantly agreed to return to the hotel with the rest of the class, despite feeling nauseous with worry. McGee, teary-eyed, said she would return home, too, to get some rest.

Now there were two people—technically a person and a pig, but Fisher thought of FP as a smaller, pinker person—that Fisher had to find, somewhere in this giant city. And all the while, somewhere out there, somebody else continued to look for
him
. And the longer he took with his finding, the closer he and Two would get to being found.

CHAPTER 14