Whales on Stilts! (11 page)

Lily didn't say anything at her end of the phone. Jasper was altogether too sure of things.

“I've got to go,” Jasper said. “I need to find these fellows before they emerge from the sea.”

“All right,” said Lily.

“Good-o, then. Over and out?”

“Be careful, Jasper.”

“I will, Lily. You, too.”

Lily hung up. She cleared the table of the breakfast dishes. Her father and mother were
talking in the other room. Suddenly the phone rang. Lily picked it up and said hello.

“Oh, hey there, hey there,” said a voice. “Is this little ... Gefelty's little girl?”

“This is Lily,” said Lily.

“Great. Great! This is your dad's boss, Larry. Is your dad there?”

“Sure,” said Lily, fumbling with the phone. “Sure. Sure! I'll—I'll get him, then. While I go into the other room—how are you?”

“I'm good. Real good. How 'bout you?”

“And where are you? Are you at work?”

“Yeah, in a manner of speaking. Today's a big day for me. I have a lot of scrapple on my plate today. Hey—is your dad there?”

“I'm just—I'm getting him.”

“That's great, 'cause I need to talk to him.”

Lily had an idea—a way to find out where Larry was. “Can he call you back?” she said. “Are you at the warehouse?”

“Naw, naw. I'm not there right now. I'm in a yacht out in the harbor. Can I leave a message?
Where is he? Is he in the little boys' room? Because if so, could you just tell him to hurry up in there?”

“He's—I can give him a message.”

“Tell him he doesn't need to come into work today. He and the rest of the team have done a great job, and they can take the day off. You know what I'd do, for instance? Maybe go horseback riding. Or skating, if he has access to an indoor rink.”

“Okay. Thanks. Oh, incidentally, can you see the warehouse from there?”

“Uh, yeah. Why you ask? Is there something wrong with it?”

“No, no. I'm just—I'm just asking.”

“Okay. Look, you take care of yourself. Have a good day in school or whatever. You know what I always found? In math the answer is usually seven. Alrighty. Keep in touch. Bye.”

Larry hung up.

Lily ran into the living room. “Dad! Dad! Larry called and—”

Her mother and father were gaping at the TV. “Larry called?” her dad asked. “Thank goodness. That means he's safe.”

“He said you don't have work today, and not to worry, and that your team did a good job.”

“Of course we don't have work today,” said her father, pointing at the TV screen. “The walls of the Abandoned Warehouse blew apart from the inside five minutes ago, revealing... I just can't believe this—there's a huge antenna and an army of walking whales!”

On the screen the whales were in formation, their eyes blazing, crunching through rubble.

Lily gasped. They were on the move.

The attack had begun.

If you have ever been present at a vicious attack by elevated sea animals, you'll know exactly what the people of Pelt felt like. I, for example, was unlucky enough to be working as a house-painter in Minneapolis that terrifying summer of the Manatee Offensive. That was awful. The sky was black with them.

Of course, the manatees weren't on stilts but wore small helipacks. The sound of those little helicopter blades chuddering in the summer air was overwhelming. It takes a lot to lift a manatee. You couldn't hear anything but the sound of them flying in their swarms while people honked their horns or ran for cover, weeping like babies.

I had a friend who had also lived through a starfish attack, and during the manatee assault he pretty near fell apart. We were hiding in the frozen-food aisle of the Third Avenue Halt 'n' Buy. The manatees were buzzing around the parking lot just outside. My friend screamed and began to jump up and down on boxes of Mrs. Paul's Fish Sticks.

We all have our ways of dealing with stress.

When Lily's father panicked, he really panicked. He was trying to coax her and her mother to go down to their “bomb shelter.” The “bomb shelter” had been set up by a couple that had lived in the house in the 1960s.

“Come on!” said her dad. “We'll take the radio!” He stuffed his arms with magazines and cushions. “We can hear about what happens.” He disappeared around the corner. “I'm going to grab some shirts!”

“Honey,” said Lily's mother, “I'm not going down there.”

“You'll be safe! You'll be safe down there! Come on!”

“All that's down there is the Ping-Pong table. How will the Ping-Pong table keep us safe?”

“We can play Ping-Pong until this whole thing blows over. And eat canned food.”

“I'm not eating the canned food. The canned food expired during the Cold War.”

“Well, Lily, will you—”

Lily's dad skidded back into the room. Her dad and mom looked around.

“Lily?” they said. “Lily?”

But Lily was gone.

Lily was not in the living room because she had darted out the front door. She was already riding her bike down to Smogascoggin Bay. Everything was crazy down there. People flew past in their cars, usually 1950s cars, escaping. The whales had walked right through a vintage car rally. People fled past Lily. Many of the cars had fins, and were pink or green, and women in head scarves drove them, pointing backward and going, “AIEEEEE!”

Swaying above them all, outlined against the fresh morning sky, were the ominous shapes of the whales. They towered thirty feet high, their eyes glowing. They had spread their flukes.
They drooled from their wet baleen. They bared their teeth (those that had them).

Lily stopped on her bike and stood for a second at the crest of a hill. She stared with horror at the scene of destruction in the valley before her.

The huge mammals had stomped through the center of town. Behind them, down near the bay, was the business district of Pelt, the streets rucked like rugs with whale stilt prints. On the site of the Abandoned Warehouse was a giant pyramid-shaped antenna. Lily could just barely see the radio waves spreading out from it in circular ripples.

The whales did whatever the radio tower commanded. They stepped on used car dealerships and a putt-putt golf course.

The town was behind them; they were heading across the pasturelands of outermost Pelt. They burned down trees in a trice with their laser-beam eyes. They stalked in rows through the countryside.

The cows were panicked. People in farmhouses screamed from their windows. Families were in Ford trucks, banging past Lily on dirt roads. Dogs barked crazily.

Lily stood, one foot on the ground, one on the pedal of her bike, calculating.... The whales weren't headed her way.

They were headed for Decentville....
Why there?
she asked herself. And then she realized— right past Decentville was the state capital.

Lily could only imagine what would happen if they reached the capital. They could take the whole state senate captive. They could hold the governor for ransom. Who knew what Larry had planned?

They had to be stopped.

Meanwhile, Jasper was scouring the bottom of Smogascoggin Bay. His subaquatic phone rang. He cranked it quickly to get it energized, then picked up the earpiece. “Jasper Dash, Boy Technonaut,” he said.

“It's Lily. I'm calling from my dad's cell phone. The whales are on their way through Decentville ... I think they're heading to the state capital.”

“Good golly.”

There was a crackly pause. Then more softly Lily said, “My grandma lives in Decentville.”

Jasper shook his head. “This is awful, Lily.”

“We need to stop them.”

“As soon as I can find that archvillain Larry—”

“I found out where Larry is. He's in a yacht—somewhere within sight of the Abandoned Warehouse.”

“I read you,” said Jasper. “I'm on it.”

“Good luck!” said Lily.

“Lily,” said Jasper, “don't worry about your grandma. We're prepared.”

Lily didn't answer.

“Lily?”

“I've got to go,” said Lily.

“Good-bye,” said Jasper, “and good luck.”

“You, too.”

Jasper turned off the aquaphone and peered out the portholes.

Several boats hung in the water over Jasper's head. He inspected each boat for signs of anything suspicious. Nothing. He puttered farther and farther out into the bay. He put up his periscope and pulled it back down. He consulted sea charts.

This went on for some time. Jasper didn't see anything unusual. Some littering, but no real evildoing. Then, out near the islands, he came to a halt.

“Well I'll be a sandpiper's uncle,” muttered Jasper. “I think I've found it.” He had discovered a boat that not only had huge satellite dishes—it also had a sliding screen door underwater, very unusual on a yacht. “I'll bet that's where Larry swims out of when he wants to eat plankton.”

Jasper peeked above the water with his periscope. On the deck of the yacht, guards with guns walked back and forth. Too dangerous to approach from that direction. He would have to approach from below, through the screen door.

He let the Zephyr drift to the bottom. Then he pulled on the diving bubble-suit he called the Marvelous Non-Osmotic Hypo-Allergenic Oxysphere.

It was his job to block the signal that controlled the whales—even just for a second.

And now he was ready to board.