“Max! Hymie! Are you all right?” 99 called.
“We’re fine, 99.”
“What are you doing under that bunk?”
“It’s sort of a game,” Max replied, as he and Hymie crawled out. “It’s called ‘When you see a good friend creep up on a guard and drop him with a karate blow and let him fall and he’s just swallowed an explosive that could blow up a body of water the size of Lake Ontario, duck under anything, even a bunk or a small metal spoon.’ ”
“Gee . . . I like the title,” 99 said. “But, how is it played?”
“Very carefully, without disturbing the body,” Max replied.
“99,” Hymie said, “get the keys from the guard and let us out.”
“But, 99—” Max warned, “—don’t disturb the body!”
99 returned to where the guard had fallen, rolled his body over—very carefully—then unhooked the ring of keys from his belt.
“I wonder which is which?” 99 said, returning to the cell and examining the keys.
“The key for the cell will fit the lock in the cell door,” Max explained. “That’s the way you tell.”
“I know, Max. I— Here it is!”
99 turned the key in the lock, then opened the cell door. Max and Hymie slipped out, then the three moved toward the doorway that led to the laboratory. But suddenly Max halted them.
“Somebody’s coming!”
“I heard it, too, Max,” 99 said.
“Anybody have a weapon?” Max asked.
There was no reply.
“Then we’ll have to hide,” Max decided. “That’s probably Means and Ways and the whole army of guards coming this way. If they catch us, they’ll toss us all into that cell. And then 99 won’t be free to rescue us again.”
“Max! Where can we hide?”
“Follow me!”
Max turned and retreated along the corridor, and 99 and Hymie followed close behind. Max suddenly made a sharp right turn—and Hymie and 99 tagged after him.
“They’ll never find us in here,” Max crowed.
“Max, we’re—”
There was a clanging sound.
“That was probably the guard shutting that cell door we left open,” Max gloated.
“It was, Max,” Hymie assured him. He pointed. “If you’ll look, you can see him.”
Max looked, then broke into a broad grin. “Talk about stupid,” he said. “Look—that guard has locked himself into his own cell.”
“Max—”
“Of all the dumb tricks!” Max went on. “I knew he couldn’t be very bright when he swallowed that explosive, thinking it was an aspirin. But this takes the prize.”
“Max,” 99 said, “it isn’t the guard who’s locked in the cell.”
“What do you mean, 99? I can see it for myself. There he is, standing there with his hands gripping the bars. Look at that happy look on his face. That’s the look of a man who— Oh. Yes, I see what you mean, 99.”
“This wasn’t the best place to hide, Max,” Hymie said. “We’re right back in the cell where we started.”
“Matters aren’t quite as bad as they were,” Max insisted. “99 is with us now. It’s always better to have feminine company. I don’t know why. But things seem to work out that way.”
“Hey, wait a minute!” the guard said. “I had two prisoners before. Now there’re three. Who doesn’t belong?” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t remember having a girl in there before.”
“Okay—we admit it—we sneaked her in,” Max said. “And we’re willing to take our punishment. If it’s against the rules to have girls in the cells, then kick us all out. We deserve it.”
“It’s not against the rules,” the guard replied. “You can have all the girls in here you want to for all I care.”
“Now . . . just-a-minute!” Max said indignantly. “If that’s the kind of jail this is, I want no part of it! I have a reputation to consider. I want out! And, furthermore, I want my money back!”
Cowed, the guard put the key in the lock. “I don’t know about getting your money back,” he said. “You’ll have to talk to the management. All I—”
At that moment, Ways and Means came stomping into the room.
“What’re you doing?” Means asked the guard.
“He wanted out,” the guard explained, indicating Max. “He’s worried about his reputation, what with us allowing girls in the cells and all.”
“Girls in the—”
Ways and Means peered into the cell.
“It’s her!” Ways said. “I’d remember that head anywhere. Once you see a head bobbing around on top of a vat of chocolate, it’s hard to forget it.”
“How did she get in there?” Means asked the guard.
“I have a sore neck, sir,” the guard replied, “so she must have fought her way in.”
Means looked hard at Hymie. “I don’t see it, but you must have something,” he said. “Number One is ga-ga over you, and now you’ve got dames fighting their way in to get to you in jail.”
“Can we assume from that statement,” Max said “that Number One is still reciting love poetry?”
“As fast as she can turn it out,” Ways said. “We feed her hate, and she gives us love. It’s a terrible thing. But we have the solution. We’re going to give her what she wants—the robot.”
“That’s very good thinking,” Max said. “I approve of that.”
“You think when that robot gets in there he’ll brainwash her in the other direction, don’t you?” Ways said.
“Well . . . it just may be possible that since she’s ga-ga over him he might have some influence over her,” Max admitted
“Dumb,” Means said.
“Before we turn him over to her, we plan to brainwash him,” Ways explained to Max. “We’ll make him think he’s a KAOS agent. That way, he’ll work with us, not against us.”
“That’s very good thinking,” Max said. “I’m afraid you’ve lost my approval, however.”
“Open the cell door,” Means commanded the guard.
When the door had been opened, Hymie was taken out. Then Ways and Means returned to the laboratory, taking Hymie with them. The guard relocked the door.
“Max, do you really think they can brainwash Hymie?” 99 asked.
“Why not, 99? He’s a machine. If you tell a machine it’s a KAOS agent, it believes it.”
“But it isn’t working on Number One, Max. They haven’t been able to persuade her to give up her love and turn to hate.”
“She must need an overhaul,” Max replied. “If she were functioning correctly, she’d believe anything she was told. I’m positive about that. That’s what makes machines inferior to humans—they believe anything they’re told. I know that because that’s what I’ve been told.”
“Max, what are we going to do?”
“Escape, 99. It’s our duty to break out of here, rescue Hymie and Number One, and destroy this KAOS installation.”
“Good, Max! How?”
“Did you bring any escape devices with you?”
99 shook her head.
“Then we’ll have to rely on our brains,” Max said. 99 went to the cot and slumped down, looking defeated.
“Don’t give up so quickly, 99,” Max said. “Haven’t I thought us out of tighter spots than this?”
“Well, frankly, Max—”
“Nevermind that,” Max broke in. “There’s always a first time for everything, you know. This time, it might work. Now, listen—here’s my first idea. Get up off the cot and let me lie down, and I’ll pretend to be ill. I’ll moan and groan and attract the guard’s attention. When he comes in here to find out what’s the matter with me, you’ll drop him with a karate chop. Okay?”
“Didn’t I see that in a movie, Max?”
“Yes, 99. In an old movie—on television.”
“As I recall—”
“That’s irrelevant, 99. This time, it
will
work.”
99 got up, and Max stretched out on the cot and began moaning and groaning. After a few moments, the guard appeared at the ceil door.
“You sound like you got the miseries,” the guard said sympathetically.
“And I’m terribly ill, too,” Max replied.
“Shouldn’t you do something?” 99 said to the guard.
“I’m no doctor, ma’am.”
“But shouldn’t you come in and get him and maybe take him to the guest house? There must be a doctor among the guests.”
“He don’t want no doctor,” the guard said. “Don’t you know about doctors, ma’am? They’re a bunch of scalywags, every last one of them. My mom used to say, anybody who goes to a doctor, there’s something wrong with them. The home remedies, they’re the best.” He addressed Max again. “Where does it hurt?” he asked. “Somewhere around the rib section?”
“That’s it!” Max groaned.
“Then you’ve probably got what mom used to call riboflavin,” the guard said. “What’s good for that is fish-eye stew. You get yourself a pot and put in some turnip tops, and the bark of a weeping willow, and a ten-months-old badminton net, then fill it to the brim with rusty rainwater, and let it simmer ’til the badminton net dissolves. You serve it—”
“What about the fish eye?” 99 asked.
“You bury that out in back of the woodshed,” the guard replied.
Max groaned again.
“That don’t sound like riboflavin to me,” the guard said.
“The pain has moved,” Max said.
“Since you know so much about healing,” 99 said to the guard, “maybe you could help him. Why don’t you at least come inside and look at him.”
“Oh, I can see what he’s got all the way from over here,” the guard said. “You’ll notice that he’s lying down and his eyes are closed. That’s a sure sign of the blind staggers. If he got up, he’d fall flat on his face. What’s good for the blind staggers is chicken soup.”
“That sounds good,” Max said. “Why don’t you get some and bring it in?”
“It’d have to be Mom’s recipe,” the guard replied. “And I don’t have any shoe tongue handy.”
Max peered at him. “Shoe tongue? For chicken soup?”
“The way the recipe goes,” the guard said, “you take a tongue out of an old shoe, you put it in a big pot, then you add an old horse blanket—diced, of course—the scrapings off a squirrel carcass, the last leaf of summer, the glue from an old book binding, the want ad section out of the July 4th edition of the Clinton, Illinois,
Daily Courier
(being sure, naturally, to remove the Personal Ads), four hounds teeth, a pinch of salt, and a gallon of spring cider. You cook it for—”
“Chicken,” Max interrupted.
“Pardon?”
“You forgot the chicken,” Max pointed out.
“Shucks you don’t put chicken in it. That’d spoil it.”
“You don’t put chicken in chicken soup?”
“It’s not for putting chicken in, it’s for feeding to the chickens,” the guard explained. “They’re the ones that get the blind staggers. You’re the first human I ever saw to get it.”
Max sat up. “Nevermind,” he said to the guard.
“Max . . . what about you-know-what,” 99 said.
“99, if I he here listening to any more of these recipes, I’ll get sick,” Max explained.
“Glad to do whatever I could do,” the guard said, returning to his post.
“That didn’t work too well, did it, Max?” 99 said.
“It wasn’t perfect,” Max admitted. “But that doesn’t mean that we’re defeated, 99. We’ll just have to try something else. How about the old setting-the-cot-on-fire trick? That always works—more or less—in old movies. Do you have a match, 99?”
“No, Max.”
“Neither do I. Well . . . that boots that one, too. Unless we could rub a couple sticks together.”
“No sticks, Max.”
“Ask the guard—maybe he has a couple.”
99 went to the cell door and called to the guard. “I wonder,” she said, “if you might have a couple sticks we could borrow?”
“The last time I loaned a prisoner a couple sticks, he got careless and started a fire,” the guard replied.
“Matches, then?”
“That was the kind of sticks I loaned him,” the guard explained.
“Oh.”
The guard returned to his post, and 99 moved back to where Max was waiting. Max had lit a cigarette.
“Max! How did you do that?”
“It wasn’t easy, 99. Since I had no matches, I had to use my lighter.”
“Ah . . . Max . . . couldn’t you—”
“Hold it, 99! I think I’ve got an idea.”
Max got out his lighter, strolled over to the bunk, then set fire to the mattress.
“Fire!” 99 cried.
“Take it easy, 99,” Max scolded. “I did that. I told you I planned to set the bunk on fire.”
“I know, Max. I’m trying to attract the attention of the guard.”
“Good idea, 99. I’ll help you. Fire! Fire!”
99 joined in, screaming. “Fire! Fire! Fire!”
The guard came to the door. “You know you got a fire in there?” he said.
“Help! Save us!” 99 wailed.
“Open the door and let us out before we burn to death!” Max urged.
“Shucks, that’s the hard way,” the guard smiled. He walked to the wall, got down the fire hose, pointed it into the cell, then turned on the water. It was only a few seconds before the fire died out.
“I did it that way the last time, too—when that fellow borrowed the two sticks from me,” the guard said.
“Yes. Well, that’s quick-thinking on your part.”
“Funny thing is, he didn’t look any happier about it than you do now,” the guard said, puzzled. “Sometimes I wonder if it really pays to do things for folks.”
“How would you like to try it just once more?” Max asked.
“Well . . .”
“You could turn off the water,” Max suggested. “We’d appreciate it, I assure you.”
The guard shut off the water. “How come you’re not smiling?” he asked.
Max and 99 grinned.
“I like to have a happy jail,” the guard said, going back to his post.
“Well, Max?” 99 said gloomily.
“We’ll have to try to bribe him,” Max decided. “What have we got, 99, that’s very valuable?”
“I left everything I had in my room, Max.”
Max dug into his pocket, and came up with a number of tablets. “Mmmmm . . . I must have had some of those aspirins left over,” he said. “Maybe I actually gave that guard an aspirin instead of the explosive. And that means that I still have the explosive. Maybe. On the other hand, it could have been the explosive I gave the guard instead of an aspirin.”
“Max . . . what are you talking about?”
“It’s not important, 99. Or, to put it another way, it’s so important, I don’t want to talk about it. Anyway, I don’t have anything in my pocket that’s valuable enough to use as a bribe. So, apparently, we’re stuck. I—”
“Yes? What, Max?”
“99, do you suppose that guard would be interested in owning a shoe telephone?”