Stampede of the Supermarket Slugs (3 page)

“Where are you going?” Henry asked as he fired off a can of pickled mushrooms.

“To call for help,” Keats said. He dodged a missile of beets that crashed to the floor next to him. “This is way beyond what we signed up for!”

Henry jumped out to stop him. “We can’t call anyone! If we do, the store will be shut down and our moms will lose their jobs. Don’t retreat yet. I have a better idea.” He rushed past Keats.

“Wait!” Keats shouted.

“I’ll be right back,” Henry told him. “Keep them busy.” He ran down the aisle and around the corner.

“Keep them busy?” Keats repeated. “With what? A book? A game of chess?”

Keats crawled to the end of the aisle. He ducked behind a stack of pepper grinders with
a cardboard cutout of a famous actor wearing a cowboy hat. Behind the cutout was a shelf filled with salt canisters.

Salt! He remembered his dad saying slugs hated salt. Keats opened the spouts of five canisters. Keeping low, he tossed them one by one over the cardboard cutout at the slugs. The open canisters left trails of white as they sailed through the air.

For a moment there was quiet. Then the slugs started making chittering sounds. Had the salt worked? Keats peeked around the cutout. No, the slugs were happily tossing the salt canisters around like beach balls. A few even held canisters in their mouths and poured salt down their throats.

Keats balled his hands into fists. What would it take to stop these super slugs? Even salt didn’t work!

“Splurp!” An impatient sound came from Squirt. The other slugs froze. Keats stopped moving, too. Squirt opened his mouth again and said, “Splarb!”

Right away, the frolicking slugs dropped the salt canisters. Their eyestalks went rigid and they lined up in front of Squirt in three rows of four.

“Splarb!” Squirt repeated, and the slugs wriggled forward as a unit. He was like a drill sergeant commanding the troops. Any stray cans of vegetables in their path they either gobbled up or threw at Keats. They fanned out and formed a ring around the display.

“Henry!” Keats shouted. “Help!”

The slugs in the front bit into the pepper grinders, crushing them with their sharp teeth. The rest swarmed over the display and chewed up the life-sized cutout of the actor.
The cowboy hat drifted to the floor. A slug swallowed it whole.

Keats knew he might be next. He couldn’t wait anymore. He sprinted and leapt over the slugs, shouting, “Henry! Where are you?”

At his shout, Henry ran out of the housewares section. He wore a bulky red machine on his back like a pack. With both hands, he held a long, wide nozzle.

“What is that thing?” Keats asked.

“The Super Sucker 8000,” Henry said proudly. “The supermarket rents out this vacuum cleaner for really nasty messes. It sucks up stuff and seals it inside bags.”

Keats eyed the machine. “You’re going to use it to capture the slugs!”

Henry tapped his forehead. “You got it, cuz.”

With Keats close behind, Henry led the
way back to the slugs. Squirt was guiding them toward the checkout lanes.

“Time to take care of business,” Henry said in his best action-hero voice. He reached back and hit the Super Sucker’s power switch. Nothing happened. Henry tried the switch again. Still nothing.

By now the slugs had noticed the cousins. Squirt barked out another command and the slugs changed direction.

“Uh, Henry,” Keats called out nervously. “They’re coming!”

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Henry said, shaking the nozzle. “Why won’t it work?”

Keats took his eyes off the slugs for a second. He glanced at the vacuum on Henry’s back. “You didn’t plug it in!” He looked around desperately.
There!
He jammed the vacuum’s plug into an electrical outlet in the floor.

Henry flicked the switch. The vacuum roared to life. Now they were ready! But the slugs had changed course again.

Instead of charging the cousins, the slugs attacked the racks of mini snack bags at the ends of each checkout lane. They climbed up past the potato chips and the pretzels and went straight for the cheese puffs at the top. Their weight sent all four racks toppling over.

The slugs swarmed over the snack bags, slashing them open and stuffing the puffs into their mouths. They didn’t even seem to notice as Henry and Keats stepped closer.

Henry pointed the nozzle at a slug but he missed. He got a bunch of cheese-puff powder instead.
Thwip!
A pumpkin-sized vacuum bag popped off the back of the machine. It bounced down the aisle.

Keats was really starting to doubt this plan.

“Oops. Let’s try that again,” Henry said. This time he sucked up a slug.
Thwop!
The slug flew up the nozzle and filled one of the bags. The bag sealed shut and came free from the vacuum. It fell to the floor with a thud.

“See?” Henry said, grinning. “What did I—”

Pop!
The bag exploded as the slug chewed
its way out. It shook off the torn bag like a dog shaking off water. Its black eyes glared at Keats and Henry, and then it jumped in the air. The slug’s teeth clamped down onto the fabric of Keats’s jacket.

“Hey!” Keats shouted. He pulled away and his jacket sleeve tore off. The slug chewed it to shreds.

All the commotion got Squirt’s attention. He took his head out of a bag of snacks. His eyes waved around crossly.

“Splurp!” he shouted through his full mouth of cheese puffs. “Splarb!”

The other slugs stopped eating. One yanked the plug out of the socket and the vacuum died. Two other slugs bit down on the nozzle, crushing the metal.

Henry pulled at the nozzle. But the slugs refused to let go. He had to slide the vacuum
off his back and drop it. The slugs started tearing it apart.

“Okay, Keats,” Henry said. “Now you can say it!”

Keats shouted, “Retreat!”

And the cousins took off running.

4
LOST ANN’S FUND

HENRY AND KEATS
scrambled to the small manager’s office at the far end of the checkout lanes. They slammed the door shut behind them and, breathing hard, leaned against the metal desk. They could hear the slugs tearing apart the bags of snack food.

“Now what?” Keats said. He eyed the desk phone. “Should we call for help?”

“No way,” Henry said, shaking his head.
“I’m not ready to give up. Are you?”

Keats’s mind raced. He was freaked out. And honestly he
was
ready to quit. But he didn’t want Henry to think he was chicken. “Okay, we won’t call anyone yet,” he agreed.

Henry said, “Too bad we don’t have a World’s—”

Keats gave him a sharp look. Henry stopped, remembering his promise not to dream up any World’s Greatest Plans. “Too bad we don’t have the wand,” he said instead. “We could use some magic.”

Keats snapped his fingers. “That’s it! In his note, Mr. Cigam said he left us the recipe for Sleep-Slug Potion in this office. We can use it to put the slugs to sleep!”

“Good call,” said Henry. “We just have to find ‘lost Ann’s fund,’ whatever that is.”

The cousins searched the office. They
rummaged through the stacks of papers on the desk. They peeked into the lost-and-found box in the corner. Henry stuck his fingers into the dirt of the wilted potted rubber tree plant near the door. Keats climbed on a chair to check out the top of the file cabinets.

Zilch. No potion recipe.

Keats slumped against the wall.

“You could tell the slugs about gastropods,” Henry joked. “That might put them to sleep.”

Keats chuckled. He knew Henry was trying to cheer him up.

“Seriously, I don’t think the potion recipe is in here,” Henry said. “Maybe it got lost and found its way into a bottomless pit or something.”

Keats’s eyes lit up. “Say that again!”

“Something,” Henry repeated.

Keats whacked his shoulder. “No, lost and
found!” he said. “Mr. Cigam’s words were all mushed up because of the punch, remember? It sounded like he said ‘lost Ann’s fund.’ But I bet he actually meant ‘lost and found’!”

A grin spread across Henry’s face. “That’s it! Way to go, cuz!”

They both rushed to the cardboard lost-and-found box in the corner. The cousins took out everything. A torn glove. A toy train. One
shoe. Broken eyeglasses. Even a retainer. At the bottom was an old book.

Keats read the title out loud, “
Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Math and Numbers.
”

“Boring,” Henry said, already turning away. “Someone probably lost that on purpose.”

“Are you kidding me? It sounds great!” Keats reached for it and his fingers slid right over it. He tried again and still couldn’t grab the book.

“Whoa,” he said. “This book isn’t real. It’s just a piece of cardboard.”

That got Henry’s attention. He crouched down next to Keats. Keats slipped one finger under the cardboard. He lifted the fake book and handed it to Henry. Underneath was a small, dusty panel in the floor.

“Stunner,” Henry said.

The door was held shut with a wax seal. Big block letters spelled out
YLNO CIGAM ROF
.

Henry frowned. “What does that mean?” he asked.

Keats read the words again. “I’m not sure. But that’s Mr. Cigam’s name, right?”

“Yep,” Henry said. “And we’re working for him. So I vote we see what’s inside.”

Before Keats could answer, Henry grabbed a letter opener off the desk and pried open the panel. As the wax seal broke, a gust of air shot out. Henry and Keats jerked away as the strange air blew back their hair and swirled around them. It smelled a little like mothballs. Right away, the whole room seemed to change.

Thwup!
The rubber tree plant in the corner twisted up toward the ceiling, sprouting purple flowers in the shape of rabbits. The
floor lamp danced a jig. And the file cabinet’s drawers slammed open and closed.

“Check out the phone, Keats!” Henry whispered. It had sprouted four wheels that spun like a drag car getting ready to race. Then
ping!
, the phone fired off the desk. It hit the floor with so much force that it smashed through the office’s thin wall. Dragging the snapped wire, it shot toward the checkout lanes.

Henry and Keats gaped at the phone-shaped hole in the wall.

“Uh, Henry, maybe we shouldn’t have opened that panel,” Keats said.

Henry shrugged. “Too late now.”

They bent back down to look more closely at the floor. Behind the panel was the opening of a tube as wide as a car’s exhaust pipe. Under it, a metal plate had the label
1313 HOUDINI WAY—HALLWAY HOUSE
.