She opened the door to the cockpit, and Jon listened in on the conversation.
Captain Bull snorted, “What the hell is that smell? It smells like a rotten egg! I used to eat garbage in my younger days, when I was in flight school and had no money for food. The Dumpsters made a great buffet, but at times there were surprises, if you know what I mean.”
The flight attendant just gave him a funny look and said, “No, Mr. Rat brought some cheese onto the plane, quite exotic cheese at that, and I’ve done the best I can with the odor problem. If it gets any worse, you have the option to release the air masks.”
Things settled down, and the odor began to dissipate. When the flight was underway, Jon talked to Mr. Rat about his family and how he hadn’t seen any of them for months. “I haven’t seen Trisha and Chris in years. I’m not even sure where they live.”
Mr. Rat said, “I’ll keep my ears open. If anybody can find your siblings, it’s me.”
The rest of the trip went smoothly, and when they landed in England, a single black Lincoln limousine waited for both Jon and Rat.
But Mr. Rat chose not to accompany Jon. “I need to get my briefcase from the back of the plane. Since we are early, I am going to visit some family and friends.”
Jon was delighted. He did not want to share a ride with Mr. Rat’s briefcase. He could still smell the odor, not only on his clothes, but inside his nose. It would take a lot of soap to wash that smell out.
With nothing to do in England, Jon got to the meeting several hours early and decided to stop by the CEO’s office. To his surprise, Mr. Shark, the attorney, already sat there, licking his lips. How had he gotten there so fast?
He said, “Jon, come on in. You should have flown in my private jet.”
Jon discreetly looked at Mr. Shark. Was that blood on his teeth? Mr. Shark picked his teeth with one of his finger toothpicks.
Jon asked, “Where is the CEO?”
Mr. Shark answered, “This is a fast-paced world we live in, my boy. You either get the job done or step aside and let someone qualified do it. The CEO was doing a sloppy job, so I relieved him of his duties.”
Jon set his briefcase on Mr. Shark’s desk. Mr. Shark opened the case and threw in a half dozen finger bone toothpicks.
“You never know when you might need these.”
When would I ever need those? Jon thought as Mr. Shark kept right on talking.
“Come here, Jon. I want to show you something.” He motioned for Jon to join him in front of the closet. When he opened it, skeletons came tumbling out. “I’m sure your closet isn’t this full yet, but someday it will be. I can hardly close this one anymore.”
Jon knew he did not have any skeletons in his closet. He had earned his position with hard work, long hours, a great education, his intellect, and a family who loved him, even when he did not visit them.
Jon said, “I don’t have any skeletons. I have nothing to be ashamed about.”
“Everyone has things they do or say that they are not proud of. You are no exception.” Mr. Shark seemed almost pleased by all the bones that clattered to the floor.
“What’s that smell? Oh yes, now I remember. Mr. Rat was going to accompany you.” Mr. Shark broke out into laughter. “Use my private bath before the meeting. You can put on one of my suits.”
Jon went and cleaned up. It felt good to get a shower, and he was excited to slip into clothes that did not smell like strong cheese. He pulled out one of Mr. Shark’s suits and started to put it on. Mr. Shark was much larger than Jon, and a big slit ran down the back, but that was not what bothered him. When he put it on and looked in the mirror to check the fit, his teeth seemed more pointed, and longer. His hands began to morph into fins. His ideas of how to treat others were changing. Jon immediately took off the suit and put on one of his. Even in his suitcase, Jon’s clothes smelled of Mr. Rat’s choice of cheeses.
As Jon emerged from the private bath, Mr. Shark looked him over. “Was my suit too empowering for you to handle?”
Jon ignored the comment and the roar of laughter coming from Mr. Shark and headed to the conference room.
The large table offered six regular chairs on one side and, on the other, six stools with small buckets behind them. A few minutes before the meeting started, the door opened and in walked six butt-kissers and, behind them, six backstabbers. The butt-kissers sat in the regular office chairs, and the backstabbers sat on the stools. Their blood dripped into the small buckets behind them.
When Mr. Shark sauntered in, he said, “Jon, I see you have met the new team, handpicked by me.” He lifted his fin up and started laughing.
Just then, Mr. Rat scurried in, and Mr. Shark yelled, “You’re late! There are no extra chairs. You can stand during the meeting.”
When Mr. Shark’s secretary saw Mr. Rat, she quickly brought him a chair.
“Don’t baby him. If he’s late, he will stand.”
The secretary paid no attention to Mr. Shark’s yelling, but smiled and offered the chair to Mr. Rat. Annoyed, he took the chair and sat down.
Mr. Shark continued. “Now, as you can see, I have chosen six butt-kissers and six backstabbers. I feel they balance each other out.” The bucket behind one of the backstabbers overflowed, and Mr. Shark paused to motion for his secretary to empty the bucket.
Mr. Shark pointed his fin at the backstabber. “Must have been a long day, hmm? Now, let’s get started. As you all know, I have some high-ranking government officials in my back pocket. They can help this company if we run into trouble with any of the new regulations.” Mr. Shark stood up, lifted up his suit coat, and pointed to his back pocket, where four tiny men screamed to get out. Mr. Shark then sat back down, muffling their screams.
Mr. Rat mumbled, “So much for government help. I believe Mr. Shark just permanently silenced them.”
Mr. Shark ignored Mr. Rat and continued. “We need to ax ten thousand jobs in the next few months.” He lifted his fin into the air and slammed it onto the conference table, but it wasn’t just his fin that hit the table—it was an ax. The ax quivered, wedged into the table for all to see. One of the backstabbers grinned broadly.
Jon interrupted, “No, we don’t have to let ten thousand employees go—look at my report.”
Jon passed a document to each of them. The butt-kissers nodded as they read, agreeing with Jon, but Mr. Shark and the backstabbers wanted no part of it. They wanted lives destroyed. Jon ignored them and continued. Even Mr. Rat, who rarely paid attention, agreed that it was a good plan.
After much heated debate, Jon would not back down. Finally, Mr. Shark said, “Jon, how about I wrestle you for the final decision?”
Jon looked at Mr. Shark. Jon hated it when someone challenged him to wrestle, but he had never lost. How long can I keep winning? he thought, and then said, “Let’s do it.”
Mr. Shark removed his suit coat, shirt, and tie, saying, “This will be over shortly.”
Jon, removing his own coat, shirt, and tie, knew getting Mr. Shark’s shoulders on the ground would be tricky. His fin gave him a unique advantage, but Jon knew how to get around it.
Meanwhile, the backstabbers pulled the table to the side, and Mr. Rat prepared to officiate. As soon as Rat gave the signal to begin, Jon lunged at Mr. Shark’s lower body, knocking him to the ground. Mr. Shark did not know what hit him. He was dazed, and Jon had Mr. Shark’s shoulders pinned, his lower body pointing upward.
Rat hit the carpet with his hand and said, “The winner, and still undefeated—Jon Hellandback.”
Mr. Shark got up, brushed himself off, and said, “I’m hungry. That lunch I had didn’t fill me up. Jon, we will try it your way, but you may want to put on a few pounds, just in case it doesn’t work out.” He took out one of his toothpicks from his pocket and started picking his teeth. “Anyone care to join me for dinner?”
They all declined. Mr. Shark angrily walked out of the conference room, saying, “Darn. Now I have to go find someone—I mean, something—to eat.”
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Mr. Rat said, “Jon, I have good news. When I visited my family earlier in the day, one of my relatives told me that he has seen Trisha. I will take you to her if you want.”
Jon didn’t think this made sense. Was Trisha in England? Maybe. He had not seen or heard from any of them in such a long time. He really had drifted away from all of his family.
“I will take you to her if you want,” Mr. Rat repeated.
Jon replied eagerly, “Yes, of course. I can’t believe you know where she is!”
Mr. Rat looked smug. “I told you I have connections.” With that, they walked out of the conference room and down the hallway toward the elevator.
When the elevator doors opened, revealing an empty shaft, Mr. Rat said, “Sorry, Jon, but you will soon know why I’m doing this.”
Mr. Rat gave Jon a push, and down he went. Mr. Rat watched until Jon vanished. When the elevator doors closed again, Mr. Rat quickly slapped an OUT OF ORDER sign on the doors.
CHAPTER 25
Great-Grandfather changed out of his old-fashioned hippie outfit, as Chris called it, and into a more appropriate outfit. He was going to visit Chris again, and he wanted to impress upon him that he was truly a great mystic, magical sorcerer. He could tell from their last encounter that Chris didn’t think much of his abilities.
Great-Grandfather had no idea that his “impressive mystic” outfit was going to be ridiculed by Chris also—the black, pointed leather shoes with the red piping, the hat that was squared off at the top and came down on each side of his face like sideburns, and the loose-fitting robe that looked more like an oversized tent just thrown over him. If he only realized how foolish he looked before Chris got a hold of him. This was not going to be fun for Great-Grandfather.
Chris and the Bundlebobs were finishing their snack when Quill said, “I’m still hungry. I didn’t have enough ear jelly for my toenails.”
Chris changed the subject. “I miss my sisters and brother. I get under their skin, but I don’t mean to. I don’t know I’m doing anything wrong until they yell at me.”
As Chris was feeling sorry for himself, the black rat, Tommy, formerly Chris’s pet, said, “I can get you to see your sisters and brother.”
Chris spun around. “How can you do that?”
“I have underground connections, and the word is they are looking for you.”
Chris looked over at the Bundlebobs, who sat in a tight circle, picking things out of each other’s green fur and eating them.
When Bihydrant saw Chris talking to the black rat, he got suspicious and left the group to follow them.
They stopped in front of a cave. Chris stuck his head inside the entrance and heard thousands of bats flying around. “Tommy, I’m not going in there. What does this have to do with my sister Trisha?”
Tommy said, “I guess you will never know since you won’t go in the cave. That’s funny, because from what I remember about you when I was your pet, you weren’t afraid of anything with the exception of one very large dog.”
Chris had an idea. He dug through his lacrosse bag and pulled out his helmet and gloves. “At least they won’t get in my hair.”
Tommy shook his head. “That’s an old wives’ tale.”
Chris said, “That’s fine, Tommy. You go in and get carried off or have a few bats in tangled in your fur. I’m playing it safe.”
Bihydrant watched all this from just outside the cave. As Tommy led Chris in deeper, he let out a shrill noise.
“What’s the matter with you?” Chris yelled.
Bats flew at Chris from every direction. He could hardly catch his breath, surrounded by flapping wings. The bats seemed to be using all the air. Chris bent down, tucked his head, and formed a little air pocket under his body. Chris felt something pulling at his leg. He had no idea what it could be. His lacrosse stick had been knocked out of his hand. He felt around for it and found it. Just as Chris brought it up to hit the thing on his leg, he recognized Bihydrant by his green fur.
The bats attacked the small Bundlebob relentlessly. He cried out in pain and grabbed Chris’s leg even tighter. Chris attempted to shield his friend with his arms, but one bat was tangled in his fur, biting and scratching the poor Bundlebob, so Chris literally pulled the bat off Bihydrant’s furry back and tossed him to the side. Chris hung on to his friend, hoping the bats would grow tired and fly away.
Suddenly, the cave whirled. The sound built, growing louder and more intense, until it sounded like the theme park rides Chris loved so much. Bihydrant stopped crying and lay very still. He hoped he was not dead.
A jolt threw Chris to the hard ground. He could feel Bihydrant lying next to him. Chris caught his breath and looked around. Chris had not a scratch on him, but Bihydrant was not so lucky. Chris hoped that Bundlebobs could not get rabies from a bat attack. There was definitely something wrong with that group of bats. The only thought that came to Chris’s mind was that they must be rabid.
They seemed to be in a cell. The walls had been built from rock and looked hundreds of years old. Chris got up and went over to the door. Just as he thought, it was locked. He could see across the circular open space outside his cell. The wall next to his cell held another door, identical to his own, but he could not reach that door. Across the circular space, he could see through two more barred doors, into two similar cells. One of those had a huge door on the back wall with an enormous lock. Each contained an old wooden bed that was falling apart and not much else. The four cells were divided into two on Chris’s side and two on the other side, and by a pair of very different doors, facing each other to his right and left.
Chris was looking around when someone in a cape fumbled his way into the room, tripping on a rock. “Chris, I see you have successfully made it down into the dungeon,” said Alastair.
Chris looked at his great-grandfather. “What’s with the dress and the elf shoes? You have got to get a better tailor. Does Great-Grandmother let you leave the house looking like that? I think you both need a thorough eye exam.”
Alastair rubbed his forehead and ignored Chris’s questions. “How’s the trip been so far?”
“The only good thing I can say about it so far is that I’ve not been bored.”
Alastair sighed, “No lessons learned along the way?”
“I didn’t know we were taking a test at the end of this. I’ve got to warn you I don’t exactly do well on exams.”
“No, Chris, there is no test at the end of this. I was just wondering if you thought about your future.”
“Can’t say that I have, Great-Granddad. You don’t mind if I call you that?”
Alastair was getting frustrated. “Chris, did you learn a valuable lesson about freezing weather conditions and how easy it is to die from overexposure?”
“Okay, Great-Granddad, you seem to have a spring loose or something. Can I see my brother and sisters?”
Alastair slowly pulled his hat off. “They will be here soon. Chris, all you had to do was press the knobs on your watch and you could’ve seen your siblings. Why do you think I gave this to you? With you being the youngest and, how should I put this, with less of an ability to straighten things out in your mind, I gave you something to help make your trip more suitable.”
“Great! But why am I in this prison cell?”
“You will see soon enough. I believe it is time that the four of you helped one of your own out.”
Chris said, “Help me out! Help me out of what?”
“No, Chris, help your sister Trisha out.”
“Great-Granddad, why would I do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Chris. Because she’s your sister?”
“I’m not exactly cut out for helping others; I have a short attention span. Do you know if I took my meds this morning? What day is this?”
Alastair said, “I’ve got to leave now, Chris. I’ve gotten a headache in the last twenty minutes.”
“Before you go, I think I’m running out of power bars. You got anyt
hing to eat?”
“No!” He lowered his voice. “Chris, this is just like one of your video games. Only you’re one of the main characters. You will be safe. Play well.”
Chris watched as Alastair stumbled out of the dungeon. “Got to watch that dress, Great-Granddad. Seems to be hindering your ability to walk. If I was a cop, I’d have pulled you over for being under the influence.”
Chris could hear Alastair from behind the door. “How does your mum do it?”
As Bihydrant and Chris found themselves confined to a medieval prison, Trisha felt herself growing horribly sleepy. She looked suspiciously at the paste the rat had applied to her burned palm. As Advarika shoved the rat away, he now patted Trisha’s hand anxiously. She was losing consciousness fast.
Advarika yelled at the rat. “What did you give Trisha? Is she dead? Did Godfrey send you?”
Mrs. Toddles intervened. “Now, Advarika, you must keep your voice down. You wouldn’t want Godfrey to hear you. The rat has just given Trisha something to help her sleep on her long journey to see her siblings.”
“What journey?” Advarika tried to focus, but he felt himself being overcome by sleepiness. He looked down at his hand. He had been patting Trisha’s hand and gotten some of the drugged paste on it. He immediately tried to wipe it off.
Mrs. Toddles smiled at him sadly. “Don’t fight it. I need you to go on with Trisha. Just close your eyes. You will be together when you awake.”
Advarika envisioned himself waking up with Trisha in one of those large containers with the earthworms and roaches. He kept trying to stay awake. He sang, chanted, blurted out words, and struggled unsuccessfully to stand up.
He finally lay down beside Trisha and closed his eyes. They were both out cold.
Brittany appeared in her cell with the little boy she was carrying. The little boy clung tight to Brittany, trembling. He began to cry. Brittany took a deep breath and noticed the air smelled fresh. If air could get in, maybe they could get out. She spotted a window, unfortunately too far above her head to reach. She could see now that the walls and floor were made out of stone blocks, and bars blocked the window and door openings.