 
ADVENTURE BIKE CLUB & THE TIRE GIANT

by Brian Bakos

Book 3, Time Before Color TV series

cover art: Othoniel Ortiz

Copyright 2012 Brian Bakos / revised 04-2020

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to anyone else. If you want to share this book, please buy an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Smashwords.com and obtain your own copy. Thanks for respecting the author's hard work.

Table of Contents

Prelude: What Happened Before

One: The Adventure Begins

Two: Trapped

Three: Desperate Measures

Four: Battle for Freedom

Next Book in the Series

Brian's Other Books

#  Prelude: What Happened Before

_The First Ring Rainbow_ gives background information that can help you enjoy this story more. Click to obtain a copy. If you'd rather dive in and read, that's okay, too.

# One: The Adventure Begins

1. Gathering of the Club

I'm feeling pretty good about my bike, until Melissa shows up.

"Still riding that old thing, Amanda?" she yells.

I flinch and glance up from the tire pump in time to see Melissa blur past. She rides to the corner, spins around, and zips back at hazardous speed.

She barrels up our drive right at me. I'm afraid she's going to run me over, but she stops a few feet away, hand brakes screeching loud enough to hurt my ears.

"Do you like my new English racer?" She's out of breath. A grin splits her glowing face, and her blonde hair is mussed just the right amount to look cool.

"Y-yeah, sure."

What else can I say? The thing looks fast even standing still. Its frame is blazing crimson etched with gold highlights. It has skinny tires and a cut-back front fender. The handlebars curl under competition style.

Melissa flicks a little trigger by the right hand brake. "It has ever so many speeds, imagine! If you don't like the one you're in, choose another."

"That's really, er, nice."

I examine my own bike. It's all lazy curves, while Melissa's has decisive sharp angles. My bike has fat balloon tires and a green & white frame with rusty scrapes. It looks about as fast as an old shopping cart. I've spent half an hour cleaning and oiling; now everything seems pretty dull.

"It's supposed to be my early birthday present," Melissa says, "but I'll talk Dad into getting me another gift later."

Tommy shows up next riding a sensible Schwinn Hornet like mine, only red and cream colored—with a boy's frame, of course.

"Nice bike, Melissa," he says.

"Thank you. My dad bought it for me at Empire Bicycles."

"Empire?"

"Yes, they sell only the better imported models. You know, English, French, that sort of thing. I'm not surprised you haven't heard of them."

"Mmm."

"All the riding clubs in England have bikes like this one," Melissa adds.

A violent _whoosh!_ announces Quentin's arrival. He blows past us, nearly running over my tire pump.

"Catch!" He tosses a red plastic camera our direction.

Tommy snatches it mid air. "Got it!"

"Yee Haaa!" Quentin shoots across the lawn, headed for our big elm. An instant before crashing, he dives onto the grass and rolls.

_Ka-Thunk!_ His bike slams against the tree without him.

"That's dumb!" I yell. "I told you not to do that!"

Quentin stands and brushes at the grass stains on his pants. "Sorry, Amanda. When Old Reliable sees that tree, he has to crash into it. Kind of an irresistible attraction."

"Your bike's not going to be 'reliable' much longer if you keep doing that."

Melissa rolls her eyes. "Quentin is so immature. I can't imagine why I let him talk me into joining this club."

She smooths her hair and stands theatrically beside her English racer. "At least his camera is still in one piece. Take my picture, Tomás, and be sure to include the whole bike."

"I don't know," Tommy says. "It's not my camera."

"Go on! What are you waiting for?"

Tommy snaps her picture.

"Would you care to be in the next one, Amanda?" she asks.

I know what she wants. A dramatic shot of herself with me standing alongside, overwhelmed by her amazing bike.

"No thanks."

"Some other time, then. Get my other profile, Tomás."

She changes her pose, turning her head and gazing off toward a far horizon only she can see.

Tommy snaps another picture.

Quentin picks up his bike and walks it toward us. You can't tell what brand Old Reliable was originally, as it's all stripped down now. No fenders, carrier, or chain guard—not even a kick stand. The only add-on is a bike bag hanging from the seat.

Quentin tries to act casual, yet his eyes narrow as he studies Melissa's new machine. "That looks sharp, for a girl's bike."

"Thank you," Melissa says, "it's made for speed, not crashing."

Quentin nods.

"Here's your camera." Tommy hands it over.

Quentin glances at the film counter. He appears a bit ticked that two frames have already been shot without his permission, though he doesn't complain. If he did, Melissa would ride off, and his latest club would be down to three members.

Ever since we were little, Quentin has wanted to be in charge of something. He founded the Atomic Kids Club, the Space Raiders League, the Anti-Communist Boys. None of these outfits lasted very long. Now he's hit on the idea of an Adventure Bike Club. This will be really cool for years to come, he says, until we're old enough to drive cars.

Then he'll start a hot rod club, no doubt, or be one of those motorcycle club guys.

"Is everyone ready?" Quentin says.

"Yeah!"

Quentin draws himself up and raises an index finger. "As president of the Adventure Bike Club, I officially announce the beginning of our first ride."

"Great!" Tommy says. "So... where are we going?"

Quentin looks around to make sure nobody else is in earshot. He leans in close. You'd have to say he has a good sense of the dramatic. We stand around like a football team in a huddle.

"We're going to the Tire Giant," Quentin whispers.

We all jerk back.

"You're kidding, right?" Tommy asks.

Quentin shakes his head. "No, I am not. This is supposed to be an adventure club, right? Let's go have an adventure."

The day is turning creepy, fast.

2. The Tire Giant

This gigantic tire recently appeared along the new freeway outside town. I saw it on a foggy morning earlier this week when we were driving out to visit my Russian grandpa in the hospital. The thing was bigger than a Ferris wheel and very spooky.

"What's that?" I asked my dad.

"Beats me, Honey. It must be an advertisement for some tire company."

But there was no company name or logo on it. The thing stood there—huge, blank, and ugly. A menacing tread wrapped around it, deep enough for a person to hide in. The middle was dark and swirly. Sparks, or lighting, seemed to be shooting around the tire, though maybe I imagined that part. Maybe the fog played tricks on my vision.

I kept expecting the horrible thing to come rolling after us. I could see it rumbling down the pavement, shock waves booming ahead of it, crushing any cars or people in the way.

"How fast is our car, Dad?" I asked, trying not to sound scared.

"Pretty fast."

Dad stomped the gas pedal, and we shot up over the speed limit. He had this evil, jumped-up look on his face, like some juvenile delinquent hot rodder.

"That's quite enough," Mom said in that stern voice of hers.

We slowed down again, and Dad returned to normal. I watched from the rear window until the Tire Giant vanished into the mist. I felt chilly for a long time afterwards.

* * *

"How are we going to get there?" Tommy asks. "Ride along the freeway shoulder and hope nobody hits us?"

"Of course not," Quentin says. "We follow the railroad tracks and sneak up from behind."

"Isn't this the silliest idea?" Melissa says. "You won't catch me riding my bike along railroad tracks."

"Okay, there's a park nearby," Quentin says. "You can wait for us there while we do the close-in reconnaissance."

"Maybe Amanda and I will do that."

Ordinarily, I get mad when Melissa tries to speak for me; this time I don't mind so much.

Quentin points to his camera. "Myself, I'm going close enough to take some good pictures. I've got a whole brand new roll of film... almost."

"That's about what you'd expect from somebody who crashes into trees," Melissa says.

Her voice is low and angry. She's always mad about something. Maybe she's upset because the conversation has turned away from her fabulous bike.

"You up for it, Tommy?" Quentin asks. "I'll get a shot of you standing next to the Tire Giant."

"Sure." Tommy tries to sound macho, but it doesn't come across all that well.

"If there's no further discussion, I move we get started," Quentin says.

Silence.

Quentin looks toward Tommy. "Is there a second?"

"I second the motion," Tommy says, without much enthusiasm.

"All in favor, mount up!" Quentin cries.

He jumps on Old Reliable and speeds away.

The rest of us aren't too happy, but nobody wants to be first to chicken out. We hang around trying to look busy. Tommy fiddles with his bike. Melissa primps her hair. I discover the pump has to be put away in the garage.

"Guess we'd better get started," Tommy says.

We get on our bikes and take off into the bright Saturday morning.

"I hope we don't regret this," I mutter.

"Don't worry about a thing," Melissa says. "Stick close to me, if you can."

3. Race for Glory

By unspoken agreement, we keep to the sidewalk where Quentin won't expect us to be and where parked cars and trees hide our approach. Riding quiet and sneaky, we catch up with him a couple of blocks away.

Quentin isn't going very fast, and he keeps glancing over his shoulder, wondering what's happened to his club. He looks kind of funny, and a little sad, hunched over the handlebars. We manage to keep quiet so as to not give ourselves away.

After watching Quentin stew for a while, we zip down a driveway and take up position behind him.

"Here we are!" I announce.

Quentin flinches but tries not to act too surprised. "Well... hello everybody."

"Let's get moving," Tommy says.

"Got it. Follow me!"

Quentin straightens himself and increases the pace. He looks very much the guy in charge now. We fall into a natural order. Quentin first, followed by Melissa, then me and Tommy riding side by side.

I'm the slowest, my bike being what it is, and I'm not that athletic to begin with. Tommy doesn't shoot ahead, though. He'll stay with me no matter how slow I'm moving, so I won't have to feel dumb.

Tommy is always nice. He's the type of boy my dad calls a "young gentleman," as opposed to a "low-class slob." Dad doesn't like low-class slobs. Someday, when I have a boyfriend, he'd better not be a low-class slob.

Since Quentin is club president, it only makes sense he should lead the way, but Melissa has other ideas. She looks back towards me with a confident expression.

"Watch this, Amanda."

She pours on a burst of speed and whips around Quentin.

"Bye-bye!" She wiggles her fingers.

"Oh yeah?" Quentin catches up.

"You're being very tiresome," Melissa says.

Quentin is pulling ahead. She switches to a higher gear and shoots away. Quentin catches up again. The race for glory is on! They ride neck and neck, neither giving an inch.

"Go Quentin!" Tommy cries.

I suppose I should cheer for Melissa, out of girl solidarity, but I decide to stay neutral. The two racers fly along like mad, skimming past the parked cars. Some kids playing ball in the street run for cover.

"Slow down," I shout, "that's dangerous!"

With all the parked cars hemming them in, there isn't enough room to battle side by side, so Quentin bounds up onto the sidewalk. He zips past driveways and lawns, dodging anything in his way.

"Coming through!"

The mail man jumps off the sidewalk, dropping a handful of junk mail.

"Hey, watch it!" He yells.

Melissa stays in the street, blonde hair flowing as she drives her English racer to incredible speeds. She looks like a Viking princess out of some movie.

They have to stop at a corner for traffic. The race starts again on the next block.

"Down with the English!" Quentin shouts. "Yee Haaa!"

"Eat my dust!" Melissa yells.

I can't tell who's winning. A little kid on a tricycle settles things when he rolls down a driveway right in front of Quentin.

"Look out!" Tommy shouts.

Quentin jerks the handlebars, barely missing the trike. He barrels across a lawn out of control.

No joyous _Yee Haaa!_ this time just a terrified:

"Ahhhhh!"

"Cool!" the little kid on the trike shouts.

Whump!

Old Reliable wraps itself around a big maple while Quentin skids across the grass head first. He disappears into a shrub.

We all stop. The world becomes deathly silent; even Melissa looks worried.

"Quentin, are you okay?" she asks.

"Never better," the shrub groans.

Quentin untangles himself and stands up slowly. He examines his ripped T-shirt and the network of scratches on his arms. "Nothing seems to be broken, at least."

The little kid rides up on his trike. "Wow, that was really neat! Can you show me how to do that?"

"Sure," Quentin says. "First you have to put on your 'light fall' jacket."

"Oh, please," Melissa says. "Let's go before that brat gets us into trouble."

"What's going on out there?" somebody roars from inside the house.

"Uh-oh," the little kid says. "Dad's gonna be really mad when he sees his favorite shrub all busted up."

We take off pretty quick. I hear the front door of the house being flung open but don't dare look back. Old Reliable is in pain. The front wheel is bent and rubs against the fork with every turn; the left pedal is bashed up.

"Looks like your racing days are over," Melissa says.

"Oh, yeah? Maybe I'll get one of those fancy bikes, then we'll see."

4. Mayor Lazar Investigates

Five Days Earlier:

"Honest Joe" Lazar, mayor of South Allendale, scratched his bald head in confusion. His whole Tuesday morning routine had been thrown out of whack.

"What's that thing doing out there?" he said. "Is it some kind of advertisement?"

"Beats me," said police chief Bascomb, "it just sort of appeared last night."

The two men stood on the railroad tracks behind the city hall parking lot, squinting toward the Tire Giant half a mile away.

"That's city land out there," the Mayor said. "If somebody wants to advertise on it, they'd better pay up."

"Right." The police chief chomped his cigar—a cheap, stinky one, not like the fancy brand Mayor Lazar smoked.

"Have you been out there yet, Bascomb?"

"No, sir. I thought you'd want to be in on the investigation."

"Yes, well, let's go check it out. Better bring a couple of your men, just in case."

Bascomb spoke into a walkie-talkie. Soon, two uniformed police officers joined them on the tracks. Mayor Lazar looked them over critically, like a general inspecting his troops. They weren't the sharpest men, but with the town budget being what it was, you couldn't expect the Lone Ranger to join your police force.

"Let's go, boys," Lazar said.

He led the posse along the cross ties. A narrow dirt road ran alongside the tracks to their left, but it looked too muddy for Lazar's expensive shoes.

The mayor was in a bad mood. This railroad track wilderness was an undignified place to stroll. What a lousy neighborhood for the city government to be in. The city hall itself was nothing more than a converted warehouse, but the cheapskate taxpayers refused to cough up money for a better one.

_Imagine that!_ Lazar grumbled to himself. _They'd rather spend their money on food, housing and other stuff rather than provide a suitably grand building for their city government._

"Drat this place," Lazar grumbled aloud.

A ragged vagrant came toward them along the dirt road. The man carried a large plastic trash bag and kept his eyes fixed to the ground.

Lazar motioned toward the cops. "Do your duty, boys."

"You there!" one of the cops yelled. "What are you up to?"

The vagrant glanced upwards. "Picking up bottles and cans, officer."

"Don't you know you're trespassing on railroad property?" The second cop said.

"So, put me in jail. It's got to be better than living outdoors."

"Everybody has an attitude these days," Lazar muttered.

He called down to the tramp. "All right, keep going. Try not to get run over by a train."

"Thanks." The man tipped his battered cap. "I wouldn't walk much farther that way if I was you, sir. There's something very strange down there."

He shuffled off, his trash bag flung over his shoulder, like some tattered Santa Claus.

"What was that about?" Lazar said.

"Alcohol jitters," Bascomb said. "He probably hasn't been sober in years."

Bascomb and the police officers laughed. Mayor Lazar joined in, trying to sound relaxed and confident. He didn't feel relaxed, though. If the truth were told, he was getting jittery. There had been more than drunken hallucination to the vagrant's manner. He seemed clear-headed, actually.

Lazar glanced back at the city hall. He wanted to return to his office and put his fancy shoes up on the desk. But if he turned back now, he'd look like a jerk in front of the cops. Word would get around. A lot of people in Allendale already thought Lazar was a jerk, no sense making things worse for himself.

"Let's go," he said.

They walked on for several more minutes. As the Tire Giant drew closer, Lazar began to feel very uncomfortable. He loosened his necktie and mopped a handkerchief over his wide face. Maybe that bum had been right. Things _were_ getting to feel strange.

He glanced at Bascomb and the two cops. Judging by their tight mouths and stony faces, they felt something peculiar, too. That was cold comfort, anyway.

Ahead, a large wooden spool lay on its side in the middle of the road. It had once contained power cables but was now empty and discarded. Stones were piled on it in a little pyramid, and something orange stuck out of it like a flag.

A minor mystery. Lazar didn't like mysteries and thought it best to solve them himself before anyone else did.

"Wait here, everybody," he said. "Take a break."

5. An Astonishing Find

Lazar shuffled down the embankment, sending a mini avalanche of stones before him.

From his new position on the road, close to the dense shrubs and trees, he could no longer see the Tire Giant, which was a relief. But the thing seemed to exert a cold power from behind the greenery, trying to push him away, somehow.

He approached the spool cautiously, as if it might contain a bomb. All it had was the little pyramid, though. As he got closer, he could see an envelope sticking out from the stones. Lazar snatched it. The paper had a strange, slick feel.

An odd picture was drawn on the envelop front. It showed a circle with rays coming off it—a sun symbol, obviously. Next to the sun was a quarter moon shape, and below these figures stood a row of five vertical lines.

"What the heck?" the mayor said aloud.

Bascomb and the two cops glanced down toward him, then looked away again. They knew better than to show too much curiosity.

_Do the sun and moon together indicate a full day?_ Lazar wondered. _And the five marks underneath, do they mean five days?_

This had to be some kids' coded message game. The little pests were always playing out here, no matter how you tried to discourage it. Heaven forbid if one of them ever got hurt! Their parents would sue everybody, including the city, then the papers would pick up the story and...

The envelope bulged with something hard. It gave a peculiar tingle to Lazar's hand, like a mild electrical shock. A jolt of fear zapped through him. He almost charged back up to the tracks.

He forced himself to calm down. These odd surroundings were putting him on edge, right? The envelope bulge couldn't be anything more than a 'magic token' some brat left for his friends. Mayor Lazar ripped open the envelope and dumped the contents into his palm.

"Good grief!" He closed his hand into a tight fist.

Bascomb called down from the tracks: "Is something wrong, Mayor?"

"Uh... no, everything's... fine," Lazar managed to say. "Wait there, I'll be right back."

He opened his hand slowly and looked into it. A large diamond sparkled radiant blue in the sunlight. It had to be worth a fortune!

Mayor Lazar's numbed brain snapped into action. He had to think fast. Somebody, for some reason, didn't want him to disturb the Tire Giant for five days. And this person was willing to pay a high price for the favor.

Well, what was so strange about that? Such things happened all the time, didn't they? Besides, if someone wanted such a modest favor, then surely it was only right to grant it.

Lazar looked up at his companions. The patrolmen were talking to each other and smoking cigarettes; they couldn't possibly suspect anything. Bascomb would have to be paid off, though, to make sure he kept his mouth shut.

How much would that cost, Lazar wondered? That depended on how greedy Bascomb was and how much the diamond was worth. Lazar pocketed the gem and climbed up to the tracks.

"Is everything okay?" Bascomb said.

"Yeah, just some stupid kids' trick," Lazar said, amazed at how steady his voice was. "It gave me a little surprise."

He turned to the cops. "Thanks for coming out, boys. You can go now."

"Yes, sir."

They crushed out their cigarettes and began walking back toward the city hall.

"Aren't we going to check things out?" Bascomb inquired.

"Not yet. I need to do some research first. It should take me five days or so."

Lazar could almost hear the wheels turning in Bascomb's mind as the police chief mulled over this information and calculated how much he could charge for keeping it secret.

"What do you want me to do, Mayor?"

"Have your men keep an eye on the tracks," Lazar said. "Stop people from nosing around, and put that vagrant in jail for seven days, like he wants."

"Okay."

"If anybody asks questions, _especially_ the State cops, tell them we're working on it and will get back to them first thing next week."

Bascomb looked confused but quickly recovered. "Got it, Boss."

This wouldn't be the first time they'd covered up an inconvenient fact or two. Like when they'd let that gambling club operate long after they should have closed it down, or when they overlooked certain building code violations of their business pals.

"Let's go to my office and talk this over," Lazar said.

The two men headed back toward city hall and the comfortable world of the 'good old boys' network.

6. To the Park

The fun has gone out of the bike ride. Things are very quiet now, except for the light _glumph_ , _glumph_ of Old Reliable's front tire rubbing against the fork.

Nobody feels like talking, not even Melissa. This suits me fine, considering the level of conversation we've had all morning.

At least the big race is finished. I suppose Melissa won by default, but I'm not offering congratulations. She can be a real jerk sometimes. I mean, either she's in Quentin's club or she isn't. Why try to make him look bad?

We ride on for miles, to the far north end of town where I've never been before except in a car, and I'm getting plenty tired. Melissa leads our expedition now, while Tommy and I ride side by side behind her. Quentin looks very depressed bringing up the rear.

People are out cutting lawns, washing cars and stuff. Groups of kids play ball in the street. Some of them recognize Quentin, but he doesn't stop to talk with them. I get the feeling he wants to avoid people as much as possible.

Clouds move in, followed by a light rain, so everybody disappears indoors. The world becomes under-populated and spooky. The paved street disappears altogether, replaced by pot-holed dirt. Melissa leads us onto the sidewalk.

We bump along uneven concrete squares with weeds poking up between them. This neighborhood has fewer houses, along with many vacant lots. For a long stretch, a towering hedge grows along the sidewalk. We ride past it, keeping to the far side of the pavement.

Pickery branches reach out for us like claws. At other places, high wooden fences come right up to the border of the sidewalk. What lies behind them? A retreat home seems wise, but Melissa squashes that idea even through her precious bike is getting wet.

"We're not going to have a little drizzle stop us, are we?" she says.

She is riding with her nose stuck up so high that I think she's going to drown in the raindrops. But the weather doesn't improve, not even with Melissa in charge. The bursts of rain get longer, while the dry times between get shorter. Near the edge of town, we stop under a tree for a membership conference.

"Maybe we should turn back," Tommy says.

"We've come this far, so let's at least get to the park," Melissa says. "It must have a picnic shelter, don't you think?"

"Probably."

Quentin shrugs. "It doesn't matter to me one way or the other."

The crash must have deflated him quite a bit. Ordinarily, Quentin would want to press on even if the sky was caving in. I glance around us. The whole area is shabby and semi-abandoned. This adds to the general gloom.

Even so, the park can't be far off.

"We may as well keep going," I say. "We'll get wet in any case."

Nobody disagrees too much, not even Tommy. So we start riding through the on again / off again rain toward the park and its supposed shelter, as if we are bound for the Emerald City or some such place.

The atmosphere is shadowy and mysterious, like we're riding through an Alfred Hitchcock story. My thoughts turn toward all sorts of weird ideas. I wonder, for example: what would happen to people who could only eat grapefruit if they became allergic to it? Or what if the couple starring in a romantic movie can't stand each other in real life?

Or why do earthworms come out of the ground on rainy days just so they can get run over? I try to avoid them, but my front tire squishes one. Disgusting!

I also think about my Grandma and Grandpa Lenin.

If you've read _First Ring Rainbow_ and are wondering if my communist grandparents got deported back to Russia, the answer is no. Not yet, anyway. Grandpa's been sick in the hospital, which delayed things, and Mom found them a tough new lawyer who is fighting the Deportation Man hard.

We'll have to wait and see if they can stay in America. I certainly hope so, I've become very fond of them. They're family, after all, even if they seem to be from another world.

Speaking of another world...

The rain is coming down steady when we reach the park. The place is covered with thick mist, like some haunted cemetery in a horror movie. You could almost mistake a knocked over trash barrel for a tombstone.

Tommy jabs out a finger. "The picnic shelter's over there."

I strain my eyes to pick the shelter out of the gloom. There it is, all right, a dry oasis in a reversed desert.

Behind us, a police car is parked on the dirt road. The officer behind the wheel is sound asleep. The windows are getting steamed up, and I can barely see him anymore.

"Our tax dollars at work," as my dad would say in one of his more irritated moments.

We leave the sidewalk and ride over the grass toward the shelter; everyone except Melissa, who sloshes along on foot.

"What's the matter?" I call back to her.

"I can't ride through this. My tires are too skinny."

I get off my bike and walk it alongside hers. This is dumb, I suppose, but it doesn't seem right to let her struggle on alone. Water soaks into my tennies, which is very disgusting.

"Looks like your English racer ran out of tricks," I can't help saying.

Before Melissa can make some snotty answer, thunder rumbles and a lightning bolt rips the sky.

"Oh!" Melissa and I gasp together.

"Hurry up!" Tommy runs toward us from the shelter. "You'll get sizzled out here!"

He doesn't have to warn us twice. We dash the final distance toward safety.

7. Things Get Weird

The shelter isn't the classiest place I've even been. The cement floor is cracked and dippy. Beat-up old picnic tables are jumbled about. Rain drums over us, and a steady stream of water leaks through the metal roof, making puddles on the floor.

At least we're out of the lightning, but this whole place is eerie and claustrophobic. A wall of mist surrounds us on three sides, and dense woods press in from the back.

"How do you like it?" Tommy asks with his usual 'look on the bright side' manner. He can be annoying sometimes with all his good cheer.

How am I supposed to answer such a question? "It's like we're in a haunted house."

"Quite so." Melissa flicks a raindrop off her arm. "This trip was an absolutely _fabulous_ idea, don't you think?"

Quentin does not reply to this obvious dig. A thunderclap speaks instead. We all flinch.

"That was close!" I cry.

"Yeah," Melissa agrees.

Some of the sass has gone out of her, and she looks pale.

Tommy tries to smooth the situation. "I was watching a TV show about India. Over there, they lay out dead people under shelters kind of like this one."

"How nice," Melissa says.

"Yeah, and they burn corpses right out in the open, or dump them in the river."

"Thanks, Tommy," I say. "We really needed to hear that."

He shrugs. "Yeah, well..."

We all sit along a picnic table bench like a row of drowned rats. My hair is plastered to my skull and must look awful. I'm glad nobody has a mirror.

"At least I got my bike washed," Tommy says. "It was pretty dusty."

His words fall flat. Melissa rolls her eyes, as if to say Tommy is not up to her lofty social standards. Somehow, her hair doesn't look too bad. How does she manage that?

She glances at her watch. "And to think I could have gone shopping with Nicole. I wonder if she's having as much fun as I am."

_Yeah,_ I think, _but if you were at the mall, you couldn't show off your fancy new bike._

I don't say anything, though. This doesn't seem like the kind of atmosphere where you'd want to argue with people.

A bike / roller skate track runs around the edge of the park. Rain hisses on the asphalt surface like frying bacon. It's coming up on lunch time, but the dank, wormy smell in the air takes away my appetite. The whole area is deserted, except for us.

Another bolt of lightning shoots past; powerful thunder rattles the shelter. We all jump.

I gulp my heart back down. "This is getting to be a definite problem."

Melissa goes another shade paler and grips my arm hard. Only Quentin looks unfazed, as if he wouldn't mind getting zapped by a lightning bolt—as if this uproar is the most natural thing in the world.

Well, I guess this storm is natural, but it's darned unpleasant. Anyway, we're stuck out here until it passes.

"This shelter has been standing a long time," Tommy says. "It can survive another storm."

"Or not," Melissa says.

The sidewalk is a good seventy-five yards away. A dirt road runs alongside it. If there are houses out there, I can't see them. I can't see the police car, either—if it's still there.

I can hear the creek bubbling in a trench behind our picnic shelter, though. On the far side of the creek must be the railroad tracks, and then –

"The Tire Giant is back there, isn't it, Quentin?" I ask.

"Yeah..."

His voice dies out in the heavy air. We all push closer together on our bench.

I feel the Tire Giant lurking behind the fog and trees like some prehistoric monster. I have the unpleasant feeling it's going to appear any second and try to devour us. My friends seem to share my gruesome thoughts, judging by the way they all stick together on the bench, even though there are plenty of other places to sit.

At least the thunder and lightning are tapering off. Tommy stands up and walks to the edge of our miserable little sanctuary. He peers through the beaded curtain of water dripping off the roof.

"The weather was like this on our last trip to Mexico," he says. "We were visiting one of those temple places where they used to sacrifice people. My dad almost fell into a pond where they dumped the bodies. Mom grabbed him at the last second, and— "

"That's enough!" Melissa and I both cry.

Tommy's family is from Guatemala, so he's our resident world traveler. He really needs to consider his listeners, though, before he rattles off the gruesome details of his trips.

Quentin changes the subject for us. "I don't think anybody has been out here for a while."

"You've got that right," I say.

The park has an abandoned look, and not just because of the rain. A trash can is tipped over, and nobody has bothered to turn it upright or pick up the litter. The grass is too long and pokes over the edges of the asphalt track. The picnic tables in the shelter have a disorganized look, as if somebody has shoved them around and then left in a hurry.

Some punk has gouged a message into our table top:

Joey is a

Why didn't he finish his pathetic little statement? Why are there always people who want to spoil things for others?

Quentin adds to the grim mood. "As soon as this rain lets up, I'm going to the Tire Giant. You still on, Tommy?"

"I... well, I'm not sure."

Quentin stands up. "Come on, man, you're not going to chicken out on me, are you?"

"It's just that..." Tommy glances around the park. "It's strange out here. Even that Maya temple wasn't this spooky."

"You mean we've come all this way for nothing?"

"Why don't you just admit it, Quentin?" Melissa says. "This 'adventure' is a total flop."

Quentin sits down again. He doesn't seem disappointed; he looks kind of relieved, actually. I think he's just trying to act tough, after his crash and all, and doesn't really mind getting let off the hook.

Tommy rejoins us. We all sit quietly, observing the water drip from the roof in a steady beat. Another lighting flash, this time farther away.

After a while, the rain peters down to a misty drizzle. The atmosphere is still pretty glum, though. Then it turns downright scary.

"Look," Tommy says, "somebody's coming."

A big, hunched over man is heading our way from the right. He wears a long greenish-black coat and a floppy hat pulled low so you can't see his face. A pale hand grips the coat collar around his throat.

Melissa digs her fingers into my arm. "I don't like the looks of him."

"Me neither."

Quentin pulls a slingshot from his bike bag. "He'd better not be looking for trouble, cause I've got some for him."

"I hope you brought more of those," Tommy says. "Look over there!"

Another man, also dressed in a long coat and floppy hat, is coming from the left. And a third guy comes straight at us out of the mist.

"This is really weird," Melissa says. "Let's get out of here!"

Her voice is all shaky. I'm feeling pretty scared myself. I think of screaming for the policeman, but he's too far away. Besides, an atomic blast probably wouldn't wake him up.

The three men move slowly toward us through the drizzle, identical nightmare chess pieces, boxing us in. The only escape route lays behind us, toward the creek.

Quentin takes charge. "Come on. I know where there's a bridge."

We grab our bikes and run.

8. Retreat to the Wasteland

We slide over the wet grass toward the creek. Water soaks over my shoe tops, gripping my feet in clammy wetness. The walking chess pieces vanish into the fog, but I'm sure they're still following.

The "bridge" is a couple of old boards thrown between the steep banks. Quentin slings his bike over his shoulder and wobbles across.

Melissa looks doubtful. "I can't go on that thing."

"Then get out of the way!" I shout.

"Oh, all right, if you're going to be like that."

Quentin comes back and picks up her English racer.

"Thank you, Quentin. Be careful with it, now." Melissa walks daintily across the boards, as if she has all the time in the world.

"Hurry!" Tommy yells. "I can see them."

"Ohhh!" The bridge rattles and bucks as Melissa dashes to the far side.

It's my turn now. The planks look about as solid as crepe paper.

"Go, Amanda," Tommy says, "leave your bike."

In a few seconds of mindless terror, I make it to the other side. Tommy carries my Hornet over for me. Quentin makes a final run to pick up Tommy's bike. The strange men slither out of the mist on the other side of the creek.

"Ahhhhh!" Melissa and I howl a stereo scream.

"Give it the old Heave Ho!" Quentin and Tommy toss the flimsy bridge into the water moments before the mystery men can move onto it.

The three of them stand on the far side, motionless as statues, staring down the muddy bank. All I can see are their long coats and the tops of their hats, like Halloween costumes with nothing inside.

"That's the end of that," Quentin says.

We heft our bikes and scramble up the stony bank to the railroad tracks.

A wasteland of trestles, scrub vegetation, and electrical towers sprawls around us. Double tracks disappear into the gloom. Farther away, an eerie red light shines through the mist. A narrow, muddy road runs along the other side of the tracks; a dense tangle of bushes and trees hems us in on the far side.

To think I cast the deciding vote to come out here. What an idiot! In the distance, cars hiss along wet pavement, but I can't see the freeway. The noise is reassuring but also spooky. We move down the slope to the dirt road.

"Now what?" Tommy says.

"This goes by the city hall," Quentin says. "We can get off there."

"But the police station is there, too," Melissa says. "The cops might pick us up."

"That's the least of our worries," I say. "Look!"

Two more awful men come at us down the road. They don't seem to be walking so much as drifting, their coats trailing in the dirt.

"Come on!" Quentin yells.

We barrel away in the opposite direction. Our fat tires roll over the soft ground okay, but Melissa's skinny ones can't handle it.

"Oh! Oh!" She swerves, recovers, swerves again.

"Hang on!" I yell.

Melissa falls off her bike. She gets up quickly and brushes at the mud splatter. "Oh my hair!"

I stop pedaling. "Forget your hair. Hop on!"

"No way, I can't leave my bike."

She picks up her English racer, but the two mystery men are closing in fast.

"Get over here!"

Melissa runs up. "Okay, but let me peddle. I can go faster."

I start to dismount, but a nightmare vision stops me for an instant. What if Melissa takes off with my bike, leaving me behind?

Deal with it, Amanda!

I get off, and Melissa jumps on. I position myself on the back carrier as Tommy and Quentin come barreling back toward us.

"More of them ahead," Quentin says. "We're surrounded."

Melissa jumps off my bike. "What do we do now?"

She picks up her English racer and hugs it like a security blanket. I look desperately around the wasteland—there must be some way out.

"Follow me!"

Pushing my bike ahead like a battering ram, I shove into the dense tangle of bushes and trees beside the road. Pickers scrape my skin, a branch whips my face. When I'm about done for, Quentin takes the lead, then Tommy. Melissa brings up the rear with her rescued bike.

"My shoes will be absolutely ruined," she complains.

We come through to a broad open area overlooking the freeway. I feel an instant of triumph, then...

"The Tire Giant!" we gasp.

It looms high above us, huge and terrible, a black hole punched into the real world leading to some other fiendish reality. All the light in the universe seems to soak into its dark walls. Its deep tread leers at us, aching to swallow us up. The air crackles.

"Down the hill," Quentin yells. "Let's go!"

We make for the slope to the freeway, but more mystery men block our path. They come at us from all sides now.

"This isn't pretty!" Melissa wails.

We flee back toward the Tire Giant. A ramp drops from the massive treads. Before we understand what we're doing, we run inside with our bikes.

The ramp closes behind us.

# Two: Trapped

9. Mystery Cavern

Everything turns dark as an unlit closet in the middle of the night, at the bottom of a coal mine. Only my luminous watch dial and another one on Melissa's wrist give off tiny specks of light.

We crowd together, our bikes ringing us like a fortress wall. An odd, whirring sound fills the air, along with a faint patter of rain from a faraway world we'll never see again. Thank heaven I can feel my friends around me, hear them breathe. Otherwise, I'd be screaming my head off.

"Somebody turn on a light," Quentin whispers. "I don't have one." He sounds as scared as I feel.

"M-mine doesn't work unless the bike is moving," Melissa says.

"I've got one," Tommy says, "but I'm afraid somebody will see us. Or maybe we'll see something we don't want to."

I stare at my glowing watch dial to keep the darkness from sweeping away my sanity. The watch is a big, clunky, communist thing made in East Germany or some other horrible country. Grandma Lenin gave it to me last year, and it's worked okay. Now the second hand has stopped dead.

I grope for the headlight on my front fender, moving all jerky, like those people in old silent movies. "Let's try it, anyhow, and if we don't like what we see, we can turn it off again."

I flick the switch. The light beam shoots into the blackness and turns at a crazy angle, as if it were a bent soda straw.

"Oh, man," Tommy says.

He turns on his light. Our two rays twist together into a psycho pretzel squirming in the blackness.

We've activated something. Pale, cold light comes up from the floor and from the far edges of our vision. I can make out my friends a little. They wear frightened, wide-eyed expressions—like mine, no doubt. Deep blackness absorbs the glow, the way an ocean sucks up cloudy moonlight.

"That's more like it," Quentin says, "I think."

We switch off our headlights. The glow remains and even strengthens a little.

Melissa tries to blow off some stress. "This is perfect. Maybe we can have a tea party."

I look around our prison. It's impossible to tell how big it is. One moment we're hemmed in, the next we seem to be on an ocean, adrift in a lifeboat. Space and time are all twisty, like the rays from our bike lights were. But at least we can see; at least I'm not collapsing from terror yet.

And I used to think Grandma's house is weird with its spooky old furnishings and the nasty portrait of Lenin staring down from the wall. This is, hands down, the weirdest place I've ever been. Why did the guys with the long coats chase us here?

"Something's wrong with my watch," Melissa says.

"Yours, too?" I say.

Her second hand is racing around, and the minute hand is going so fast you can see it move. I look at my own watch.

"Mine's doing the same thing."

This dreadful place is a land of unearthliness where time and space have shifted to another dimension. Both our watches stop dead. Melissa take hers off and shakes it.

"This is supposed to be a luxury brand. Imagine, thirty-two jewels and it can't even tell time."

"There's nothing wrong with your watch. It's this Tire Giant place."

"Well, I'm glad to know that. I wouldn't care to be stuck with a cheapo watch... no offense, Amanda."

I'm suddenly enraged, and not just at Melissa's snootiness. We're prisoners in this awful place. We have to fight back!

"Let's get to the bottom of this, right now." I press my horn button. _BEEEP!_

"What are you doing?"

"If anybody's here, we have to meet them sooner or later," I say over the noise. "Let's show some brass."

"I'll go for that." Tommy fires up his own horn. _BEEEP!_

Our duet flows into the darkness for rackety seconds. When we take our fingers off the buttons, my ears buzz on their own for a while. Silence, except for the low whirring and the drumming of raindrops.

"Guess there's nobody here," Quentin says.

From behind us, comes an angry voice. "Hey! What's all the noise?"

I practically jump out of my soggy shoes.

10. Rank Eddie

A grungy, tough-looking kid swaggers out of the gloom behind us. His hair is tangled and nasty. He wears blue jeans, a dirty tan jacket that's too big, and lots of attitude. He must be at least a year younger than us, but he acts much older.

"You wrecked my nap," he says. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Quentin draws himself up. Now that he has a situation he can understand, his old confidence is returning. I feel somewhat better, too, although this kid is definitely the type I'd avoid back in the normal world.

"We were passing through," Quentin says, "and thought we'd stop by for a visit."

"Don't get wise with me. Nobody comes here because they want to."

"Actually, we got chased in here by some weird guys in long coats," Tommy says.

The kid nods. "Yeah, I thought so."

No way of getting around it, the kid smells rank, like he hasn't washed in ages. Quentin unwisely mentions this fact.

"You don't smell so hot. When's the last time you had a bath?"

"What's it to you?"

"Don't get bent out of shape." Quentin takes a step forward. "Or I'll bend you back in."

The kid whips something from his jacket pocket—a railroad spike ground to a vicious point. He jabs the weapon at Quentin.

"Go ahead, try it, punk!"

Quentin steps back, holding up his hands. "Easy now. Just making friendly conversation. That's a very nice spike, by the way, er..."

"My name's Eddie Hawkes. Don't forget it."

"Yes, Eddie. Excellent workmanship on that item, by the way. Very, uh, sharp."

Eddie looks us over with slit eyes, daring anybody to advance. I study his face and try to figure out if he's really mean or just scared to death like we are.

"That goes for the rest of you," Eddie says. "Nobody hassles me, got it?"

"Sure thing," Tommy says. "We're all in the same boat, aren't we?"

Eddie becomes interested in our bikes. He starts looking them over, especially Tommy's. He seems to almost forget about us. We retreat into the shadows for a membership conference.

"What are we going to do about that Eddie kid?" Melissa whispers. "He could be dangerous."

"Let's jump him," Tommy says.

"Yeah," Quentin says. "You slip behind him, and— "

"Hold on a minute," I say. "Let me talk to him before you get violent."

"If you can get close enough," Melissa says. "He doesn't need a dagger, the stench is enough to finish you off."

"The rest of you wait here. I'll call if I need you."

I move back toward Eddie, being careful to stay outside of spike jabbing range. He's examining Tommy's Hornet, running his fingers over the frame and gripping the handlebars.

Well, here goes.

11. Negotiation Attempt

"My name's Amanda Searles."

Eddie looks at me with narrow-eyed suspicion. "Yeah? Who are the others?"

"We're in a bike club. We've known each other a long time."

I point out my friends. I have the gruesome feeling I'm identifying their bodies at a morgue. "That's Quentin Mays, Tommy Velasco, and Melissa Jordanek."

They nod in turn, without enthusiasm.

Eddie brings his attention back toward me. "You sure picked a strange place to go riding."

"It was kind of an accident. The guys in the long coats, you know. We were sitting in the park shelter waiting for the rain to stop."

"Right." Eddie seems to accept my fantastic explanation.

"Quentin didn't mean any harm. He just runs on like that sometimes. And he's scared, like the rest of us."

"Oh yeah? He'd better watch it, that's all."

I'm afraid he's going to get worked up, but Tommy's bike soon draws his attention. He goes back to fondling it, as if it is the only nice thing he's ever seen.

"Do you like that bike, Eddie?"

"It's okay." He says this real casual, but I see the excited gleam in his eyes.

"How long have you been in here?"

"A few days, maybe. It's hard to tell; time's all screwed up in this place."

He's tense and distrustful, as if he isn't used to anybody talking nice to him. He seems the angry type kid who goes around breaking bottles on sidewalks and writing nasty stuff on park benches. I don't think he's really vicious, though.

Of course, I could be wrong. This 'woman's intuition' thing can be overrated—my aunt, for example, who has married and divorced two alcoholics. She was going to change them, she said, but it didn't turn out too well.

I approach a delicate topic. "Did you carve that message on the picnic table... the one about Joey?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah, but those guys in the long coats started chasing me before I could finish."

"Who's Joey?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

"Sorry."

I glance toward my friends. Tommy is slipping around behind us, and Quentin has moved closer in. They're using me as cover so they can jump Eddie! I give them my icy stare, and they stop moving.

Eddie examines the horn button, making short beeps. "Joey Blanton is this punk at the children's home who was always fighting with me. I fixed him, though."

He pulls a Detroit Tigers cap out of a pocket. "I took his precious baseball cap when I left!"

Eddie laughs maliciously.

"So, you ran away from the children's home and have been living outdoors, is that it?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"You have no family, then?"

Eddie's mouth tightens, and he shakes his head. He looks down at the Hornet. I can see a little tear in the corner of his eye.

I feel desperately sorry for him. In an instant he's changed from an armed psycho killer to a sad little kid with nobody on his side. No wonder he stinks. If I'd been living out in the railroad track wasteland, I wouldn't smell like a bouquet of roses either.

Quentin and Tommy are almost upon us.

"Stop that, right now!" I yell.

The boys freeze. Eddie becomes instantly alert, weapon in hand.

"It's all right, Eddie," I say. "They won't bother you."

Quentin gives me a peeved look but recovers his cool. "Sure Eddie. We only wanted with talk to you a little. Maybe I'll take a look around, instead."

He saunters away innocently with hands in his pockets. His act is not very convincing, and a change of subject is needed, fast.

"Eddie," I say, "if you help us get out of here, I'll ask my Dad to buy you a bike just like this one."

Eddie's head jerks up. "Would he do that, for real?"

"I'm sure of it, once I tell him how you helped us."

The excitement leaves his face, and his eyes squint. "How do I know you're not talking hot air, like everybody else?"

"It's the best I can do right now. You could take my bike if you want; it's a girl's model, though."

Tommy walks up. "No need for that. You can have my bike, Eddie. As soon as you get us out of here."

"That's very generous, Tommy," I say.

"Right. Then your dad can buy _me_ a new one."

There's a pause filled with hope. Then Eddie sits down on the floor, dejected.

"It doesn't matter. I can't help you escape. Nobody can, not even _them_."

"Them?"

"They're coming now. Don't you see?"

Tommy and I look fearfully at each other, then off into the infinite darkness where Eddie is pointing.

12. Strange Arrivals

A globe of weird, flashing blue and orange light appears in the blackness high above. Blurry figures float around inside it, like goldfish in a psychotic fishbowl.

Quentin and Melissa join us at the bikes.

"I don't like this very much," Melissa says, biting her prefect nails.

She wraps her arms around me; we cling to each other, as if this could protect us, somehow. Quentin and Tommy crouch into fighting stances, but they don't seem fit to handle this new danger. They're every bit as terrified as me, however tough they try to appear. All the while, the figures in the globe move toward us, demented angels sinking from the heavens.

"Oh, man," Quentin says, "we're in for it now."

"Could be," Eddie says with a grin. He seems to enjoy Quentin's distress entirely too much. "They might not hurt you, though—unless you give them a reason."

"Maybe our being here is enough reason," Melissa says. "They didn't send us engraved invitations, after all."

Quentin turns on me. "Why'd you stop us, Amanda? Now we're surrounded."

"Knock it off already. You can't solve everything by jumping people."

The glow comes nearer, bathing us in cold, flickery light. An electrical charge sends my hair billowing around my head. I have the strange feeling my hair is holding me up, like puppet strings.

This is good. Otherwise I might be collapsing about now. I can make out four figures. They seem to be smaller than us, except for one which is taller and very thin.

"Get ready, everyone," Quentin says. "This is it."

"Yeah!" Eddie says, an evil smile twisting his face.

The globe stops in front of us. The light is blinding, and I put an arm up to shield my face. The light shuts off. I can't make anything out, except for white spots dancing before my eyes.

When the spots clear, I see a group of what seem to be kids standing before us—the weirdest ones ever invented. They have deep black eyes, white hair, and skin so pale you can almost see through it. They wear yellow, form-fitting jumpsuits.

As far as I can tell, they appear to be a boy and three girls. They have little rings in their ear lobes; the 'girls' also have them pierced through the sides of their noses. We're all too amazed and frightened to say anything.

The newcomers stare at us. Their blank, waxy faces give no clue as to what they're thinking—department store dummy faces. This is maximum creepy, and I have to fight to keep from screaming.

Thank heaven, they turn away and talk among themselves in low, crackly, musical voices. They seem to be speaking in a combination of song and radio static.

"What are they saying, Eddie?" Quentin whispers.

"I don't know, but it doesn't sound good. You might be in big trouble."

"Hear that, Tommy?" Quentin says. "We've got to take action."

The strange beings finish their conference. The taller one moves toward us. He holds up a long tube.

"Look out," Melissa cries, "it's a gun!"

"Now!" Quentin shouts.

He dives into the kid, or whatever it is, and knocks him over.

"Stop it!" I cry. "Tommy, break them up."

"No way. Come on, help me tackle the others."

_TA-ZAPP!_ A burst of crackly light explodes from Quentin's opponent.

"Yow!"

Quentin tumbles away and sprawls on his back, his arms and legs thrust out in a big X. His hair stands straight up, and his T-shirt glows. The three of us gape with shock. Tommy and I rush to help Quentin.

"I'm electrified," he groans.

Melissa finds the opponent to be more interesting. She crouches beside him and studies him carefully.

Quentin feels tingly all over, and little sparks shoot out wherever we touch him.

"Can you get up?" I ask.

"I-I think so."

Quentin begins to move, slowly and painfully. His hair returns to normal, and his glowing T-shirt shuts off.

Eddie roars with laughter. "This is great!"

"Oh yeah?" Quentin says.

He wobbles to his feet, with me and Tommy each holding an arm. "Get rid of that spike, then we'll see how funny things are."

"Relax," Eddie says, "they weren't trying to hurt you. That tube is just a communicator device."

I give Eddie my icy stare treatment. "That was really mean. I thought you were going to help us."

Eddie looks down, avoiding my glower. "He shouldn't have talked to me like he did. He's as bad as Joey."

Quentin tenses, his mouth twisted into a snarl. For a second, I think he'll tear away from us and attack Eddie, railroad spike or not. Then a softer look comes over him, as if he feels kind of sorry for the kid. I'm reminded again why I like Quentin so much.

"All right, Eddie, we're even," he says. "Can you help us with these guys?"

"Well..." Eddie strokes his chin.

Meanwhile, Melissa talks to Quentin's opponent who is still lying on the floor. "That was some trick. You're not going to zap me, are you?"

The alien, for that's surely what he is, shuts down his crackling glow. Melissa helps him to his feet and picks up the communicator device. He takes it from her with a stiff bow and limps back to join the other aliens. They crowd around him, as scared as we are, it seems.

"Okay, it's a deal," Eddie says. "But no more nasty talk, right?"

Quentin nods. "Deal." He offers his hand and, after hesitating a second, Eddie takes it.

Eddie walks over to the aliens and gestures toward the communicator. They give it to him.

13. Midair Show

The communication device is about a foot and half long and a few inches around. One end is flared out like a trumpet.

Eddie hefts the thing with confidence. "I'll tell them how I found you."

He brings the wide end of the gizmo to his face and talks into it. I can't figure out his muffled words, but soon a wavery glow leaves the other end of the tube.

A moving picture appears, hovering in midair. It shows the four of us standing beside our bikes. The picture is about half life sized and kind of sketchy, but you can still make out our features.

We all gasp.

"Man, this tops the Saturday matinee!" Quentin says.

"He's not showing my best profile," Melissa complains, "and my real hair looks much better than that."

In the movie, Tommy and I start buzzing our horns, but you can't hear anything. We're like a TV show with the volume turned off.

"Wow!" Tommy says. "How does it do that?"

Eddie lowers the device. "Beats me. All I know is it took a long time to make it work with English."

"Give me that." Melissa snatches the communicator. "I'll tell them the rest of the story."

She talks into the device. Again, moving pictures flash in mid air. In them, Tommy, Quentin, and I are still pretty vague, like cartoon figures, but Melissa shines out in full detail. You can even see her designer wrist watch.

We're riding down the street. Melissa races ahead while the rest of us struggle to keep up. Suddenly, for no reason, Quentin turns up a driveway and crashes into a tree.

"That's not how it happened!" Quentin protests.

Melissa lowers the communicator. "Oh hush, Quentin, it's close enough. Besides, if it wasn't for me, we wouldn't even be here. So I deserve some credit."

"You've got that right," I mutter.

Melissa starts talking again. New pictures appear:

We're at the rain shelter with the weird men closing in. Melissa jumps off the bench and, grabbing her English racer, leads us across the park and over the bridge. With an effortless heave, she tosses the bridge into the creek just as the men are stepping onto it.

Now we're on the dirt road with the men coming from all directions. Melissa forces her bike through the underbrush, while I stumble along behind.

"Oh really?" I say. "What about your nose dive into the mud?"

Melissa lowers the device with a sly grin. "It's artistic license. You know, Hollywood style."

She finishes the drama:

We break out of the woods, Melissa leading, of course, and escape into the Tire Giant. She orders us to turn on our lights and beep our horns.

"And that's what happened," Melissa says proudly.

The tall alien kid takes back the communicator. A little smile creases his face.

"Kintz One liked your story," Eddie says. "It's got the right kind of interesting lies."

"Thank you," Melissa says. "So, his name is _Kintz One_?"

"Sort of. _Kintz_ is their word for 'people.' You can't pronounce their real names, so I just call him Kintz One."

The boy steps forward and gives a slight bow.

"The others are girls." Eddie points to each one in turn, starting with the oldest looking one. "I've named them Kintz A, Kintz B, and Kintz C."

The girls make stiff little curtsies.

"You know, Kintz One, you're kind of cute." Melissa strokes the boy's long white hair. "Too bad about your hair, though. It looks like my Grandpa's."

Some color enters his face. Melissa hadn't used the communicator, but he seems to catch her drift well enough.

"He's the oldest," Eddie says. "Kintz A is his sister. The other two girls are twins."

Yes, the two smallest ones do look pretty identical, but what do I know? I'm usually not around aliens much and can't tell them apart very well.

"What are they doing here?" I ask.

"That's a whole other story," Eddie says. "Better let them tell it."

He hands the communicator to Kintz One. The alien makes some adjustments to the thing.

"Those guys who chased you in here aren't real," Eddie says. "They were only projections of the same _Basitch_ man."

"Basitch?"

"Secret agent type guys, kind of an alien Gestapo. Very bad news."

"You mean, we could have walked right through them?" Quentin says.

"Yeah," Eddie says, "we all got conned. And this isn't really a tire, either. It's disguised."

A chill presses in, making me shiver. The situation is getting more bizarre by the second, but there isn't time to ask Eddie more questions. Kintz One has begun speaking into the communicator.

14. Horror Drama

Bright, wondrous pictures pour out of the communicator, worlds better than the ones made by Eddie and Melissa. It's like we're standing in a Technicolor movie, without the popcorn.

A fantastic city sprawls around us with glittery towers shooting up to incredible altitudes. The sky is a pinkish orangey blue. Drifting clouds, like puffs of cotton candy, hide the tops of the highest buildings. Kintz type people are everywhere—walking on the skyways, strolling the sidewalks, and riding elevated trains that zip through thin air.

We enter one of the buildings. We're inside a big hall where hundreds of Kintz are holding a meeting. Everybody is arguing and shouting. You can almost hear the racket, although this is a silent movie, too.

A man at the front of the hall holds out his arms and tries to quiet things down. He's not having much success.

"That looks like our last family reunion," Quentin says. "We don't get along too well with my cousins."

"It's their Congress," Eddie says. "The guy in front is the father of Kintz One and Kintz A. He's some big shot in the government, but he's got lots of enemies."

The scene shifts to an arena with a supersized basketball court. There are benches up in a balcony, but no one is sitting in them. On the court, Kintz One and several other boys use hockey sticks to whack around what appears to be a flaming tennis ball.

A couple of Basitch men wearing long coats bust in and grab Kintz One. The other boys try to help him, but are knocked down by energy blasts.

The scene shifts to another room with a bouncy floor. Kintz A, B, and C are jumping around playing a game with colored light beams. Basitch men bust in and grab them.

They carry the children outside where Kintz One is being held by another goon. Kintz One is all tied up and gagged, he's struggling hard to free himself but can't.

Next thing, the kids are being pushed inside a large, round structure like a flying saucer. One of the Basitch men gets in with them, the other goons push back an angry crowd that is trying to rescue the kids. The flying saucer begins spinning, then disappears.

The pictures fade away, leaving us alone in the shadows.

"The ending was a bummer," Melissa says, "but I'd sure like to visit that city. It makes New York look like a cow town."

The Kintz stand together hugging each other and wailing in their strange, musical voices.

"They got kidnapped, as you saw," Eddie explains. "Their parents are important leaders, and some bad guys want to blackmail them. A civil war is breaking out in their world."

"Wow, that's ugly," Quentin says, "Where is their world?"

"It's in some other time or universe. Real _Captain Z-Ro_ type stuff."

"Wherever it is, I'll bet the shopping is fantastic," Melissa says.

"I can't believe they just plopped this big thing down here without anybody checking on them," Tommy says. "What about our government?"

"The guard paid out some bribes," Eddie says. "Kintz One says it's easy to buy off officials on this planet."

Tommy straightens and plants his hands on hips. "That might be true in other countries, but not here!"

"That's right," Melissa says. "We have the best government money can buy."

"Whatever." Eddie shrugs. "Anybody who slipped through, like us, got picked up by the long coat guys."

"So, why did they come here, anyway?" Quentin asks.

"It's only for a little while. Once they get recharged and repaired they'll be off."

"Where to?"

Eddie shrugs again. "Beats me. They'll just keep moving, I guess."

"Have to outrun the posse, eh?" Quentin says.

"Something like that."

I don't like the sound of this one bit. Bad enough we're stuck in here, now we have to worry about an outer space cops & robbers drama. A scary thought occurs to me.

"What happens to us when they leave?"

We all turn toward Kintz One. He seems to understand what we were talking about. He brings the communicator slowly up to his mouth; his hands are shaking a little. A picture of the Tire Giant appears:

It's spinning faster and faster. The tire disguise blows away revealing the flying saucer inside. The thing takes off. Actually, it just sort of disappears.

The ship is hurtling through outer space with legions of stars flashing by. A hatch opens and something tumbles out. Me and my friends, including Eddie!

We're frozen solid, our faces twisted with screams and our eyes popped out. The crystal on Melissa's designer watch is shattered.

Kintz One stops talking and the dreadful pictures fade. He stares at the floor. The Kintz girls crowd around him. They all hug each other and weep.

We humans stand with our mouths hanging open.

15. The Dreadful Truth

Each in our own way, we try to deal with the horror.

"They told me at the children's home I'd come to a bad end," Eddie says, "but I didn't think it would be this bad."

Melissa moves toward the Kintz. "Don't cry, please," she says in a tiny, wavering voice. "It makes everything worse."

Kintz One brushes tears from his eyes. The others quiet down, too.

"That's better." Melissa holds onto Kintz One's hand. With her free hand she strokes his long, silvery-white hair. "I know this great stylist who could do wonders for you. How'd you like to be blond, or maybe a nice light brown? And you've definitely got to work on your tan."

Quentin and Tommy look stunned, as if the whole world has caved in leaving them no place to stand.

It's probably just a way people try to protect themselves from going nuts, but I simply can't believe the pictures. They are far too horrible. Things like that might happen to other people, but not to _me_.

I don't think Melissa believes it, either, judging by the way she's hanging onto Kintz One like he's some movie star. Besides, how could Kintz One know what's going to happen? He's a prisoner, like the rest of us.

"Eddie," I say.

He turns toward me with this distant look in his eyes, like he isn't there anymore. As if the real kid is already spinning through outer space, all frozen, and has left behind an empty shell.

"Snap out of it, Eddie!"

He shakes his head, and the tough little kid returns. "What do you want?"

"I can't believe Kintz One. I think his story is an exaggeration, like the one Melissa told."

"Maybe you're right." Eddie doesn't sound very convinced.

"Hadn't we'd better ask him?"

Eddied nods. "Good idea."

I want Quentin to join us, but he's standing off to the side with this blank look on his face. So is Tommy. They're strong boys if they know what they're up against, but this nightmare is beyond all understanding. Melissa stays with Kintz One.

Eddie takes the communicator and speaks into it. Alien words pour out instead of pictures.

"Good," Eddie says to me, "I was hoping for this. It saves time."

Kintz One looks up; he doesn't seem to understand. Eddie speaks again, slow and loud enough for me to hear the English words.

"How do you know the guard will toss us out?"

Kintz One untangles himself from Melissa and takes the communicator. After adjusting the thing, he begins to speak. The American-style voice coming out the narrow end is soft and mellow, and heartbreakingly sad. I hope to hear some doubt in it, but Kintz One sounds dead certain.

"We saw the guard throw away the captives from our first stop." He chokes back tears. "The enemy does not desire witnesses. B-besides... "

He's sobbing full force and cannot continue. Kintz A takes the communicator.

"This ship cannot support any more biological life forms," she says in a beautiful, tinkling voice. "Otherwise, the foe would have taken more hostages or sent an additional guard."

The awful truth slams into us full force.

"Ohhh!" Melissa faints dead away. Kintz One eases her to the floor.

I feel light-headed, and my knees give out.

"Amanda!" Eddie cries.

I grab hold of him to keep from falling over. He wraps an arm around my waist, and I duck my head down to get some blood flowing into it. Maybe I do blank out a few seconds, but I'm soon back in horrid reality.

I try to picture the great warriors in my family so as to buck myself up. I think of my dad, Ace Searles, in his jet fighter battling the enemy MIGs over Korea—too strong and courageous to give up, even when his plane was shot out from under him.

I think of great aunt Tania sniping at the Nazis in Russia, enduring all sorts of hardship and cold. I wish I had her golden hero star with me now to give me courage.

Quentin and Tommy stay frozen with shock, their eyes wide and blank. Only Eddie seems unfazed by our approaching doom. He strokes his fingers through his long, tangled hair.

"Well... I've had a crappy life until now, so it may as well end crappy. At least I made some friends."

# Three: Desperate Measures

16. The Investigation Begins

I feel better a couple minutes later; at least, I don't seem ready to pass out.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, I'm... fine." That's the lie of the century.

He removes his arm from my waist and I stand alone, swaying as if on the deck of a bucking ship. Eddie prepares to grab me again, but I manage to keep upright. I shake some life into my arms and legs.

What's wrong with us? We just received a death sentence, and we aren't doing anything about it. Quentin and Tommy sit by the bikes not saying a word; all the stuffing is kicked out of them. Melissa cries softly on Kintz One's shoulder, and I'm practically done for. We're acting like members of the Cream Puff Club!

Eddie is the toughest, but he's wrapped up in feeling sorry for himself.

"It's too bad you've had a crappy life," I say. "That's no reason to give up on it, though."

"Yeah, right."

"We have to keep going, figure some way out of this."

Eddie nods, as if he agrees with me but is throwing in the towel anyway. He shuffles off into the darkness.

A spirit-crunching force is hovering over us like a giant vulture. I can smell the rancid breeze when it flaps its wings. The monster is sucking away our willpower. I need to be thinking full blast, but my head is filled with cobwebs. I have to get away from this depressing group; they're draining off what little energy I still have. Most important, I need to learn about our prison. How can we escape without more information?

But I'm so tired. I can't keep my eyes open; my hands are numb. The long bike ride, running from the phantom men, the terrible happenings inside the Tire Giant. Anybody would be used up, wouldn't they? Why don't I lie down, just for a little while? Close my eyes, sleep. I deserve it. Maybe I'll never have to open my eyes again, and...

I've sunk all the way down before I realize what's happening. The thump against the floor jars some sense back into me.

"Eddie!" My voice echoes.

He emerges from the shadows. "What?"

"Help me, please."

Eddie yanks me back up.

"Thanks." I brush myself off, stamping my feet to get my circulation going. "Don't let me do that again, okay?"

"Sure, I'll watch out for you."

I smack my hands against my cheeks to help clear my head. That doesn't accomplish much besides sting my face. I look toward Quentin, Tommy, and Melissa, but none of them are paying attention to me. I could probably drop dead without being noticed.

I turn back toward Eddie. "What do you know about this place?"

"Not much."

"You've been inside a few days. Didn't you look around?"

"I was pretty busy working on the translator. That didn't leave much time for exploring."

He pulls a paper-back Webster's dictionary from a pocket inside his jacket. "I took this from the children's home. I always wanted to know a lot of big words so people would think I'm smart."

Eddie hands me the dictionary. It's like the ones we have at school and feels like a dear old friend in the middle of this alien horror.

I stroke its battered cover, then open it up. The words _Property of_ are stamped on the title page. The name below has been scribbled out and _Edward J. Hawkes_ written in its place.

"The communicator has these words now?" I say.

"Yeah, we finally scanned them all in."

I give back the dictionary. Eddie returns it to his pocket with great respect. From another inside pocket he produces a second paperback book.

"We used this one, too."

It's _The Adventures of King Arthur_. Inside are pictures of knights and ladies along with lots of antiquated talk such as: 'Fear not, fair damsel, for I shall defend thee.'

Where is that guy in the shining armor when we need him?

"Anything else?" I ask.

Eddie shakes his head. "There wasn't time to get more books. I had to make a quick getaway."

Yeah, 'quick getaway'—sweetest words in the English language.

"I've been sick, too," Eddie says. "Their food isn't designed for humans. I thought the hamburger blobs at the children's home were bad, but I'd sure like some now."

We've missed lunch, but I'm too keyed up to be hungry. "Has the guard been around?"

"No. He never leaves his own area unless there's some big problem."

"Can you tell me anything else?"

"Nothing you don't already know."

So, I'm back to square one. If my human friends can't help, that leaves only the aliens.

"Think I'll go check things out for myself," I say.

"Do you want me to come?"

I hesitate. Of course I want company. My human friends are too down in the dumps, though, and I need to be maximum sharp. Like my dad says: " _You can't pull anyone up to your level, but they can drag you down to theirs."_

Why isn't Dad here to handle things?

"No thanks," I say. "I'll let you know if I need help."

I start walking toward Kintz One and Melissa. I'm all stiff and slow, like I'm a hundred years old. Fat chance of that. I might not survive the next hundred minutes.

17. Alien Conference

By the time I reach them, I've loosened up a little, but I'm not exactly a well-oiled machine. More like a rusty old bike rolling on flat tires.

Kintz One doesn't look as if he'd be much help. He's all teary with Melissa and doesn't notice me standing beside them. These aliens seem to have only two settings: motionless and creepy, or blubbering tears.

I take the communicator from Kintz One. He won't need it because he and Melissa are speaking the universal language of pain. The thing is heavier than I expected. Good. I feel more solid holding onto it.

I approach the three Kintz girls. They are standing nearby clinging to each other. At least I think they're nearby, but the more I walk, the farther away they seem to get. Space is messed up in this awful place. I don't know if I'm moving in a straight line or going around in circles.

Finally, I stop and wave to them. Quick as that, they are beside me. They stand gaping through their dark button eyes. You'd think they've never seen an alien before.

If this were the normal world, I'd guess Kintz A is about my age although she seems older in some ways. Maybe it's her dignified manner. The twins look two or three years younger than her. But who can tell? This situation is light years away from normal. I can't get over the little rings pierced through their ears, lips, and noses. Doesn't that hurt? I've only seen pierced earrings on old people, like Grandma Lenin.

The girls cock their heads. I raise the translator toward my mouth. Swirls of light sparkle inside the opening, and my skin tingles.

"Hi," I say into the device, "my name is Amanda Searles."

A horrible racket exits the other end, as if I'm talking through a busted radio speaker. I say "Amanda" again, and a blast comes out that I scarcely recognize as my name.

The girls understand me, though. They curtsy and say something friendly-ish in their alien language. It sounds a lot better than the noise I just made.

Kintz A holds out a hand. It's small and delicate, and so pale it seems made of milk glass. The fingers are long, and so is her arm, like on all the aliens. I give her the communicator.

"We are pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Amanda," she says in her tinkling voice. "How may we be of assistance?"

So, I'm "Lady Amanda" now? I like this King Arthur style language. It helps create a make-believe atmosphere. I _must_ hold onto that idea. If I can look at this place as a fantasy land, or a TV show, maybe I can forget the danger for a while and think better.

I take the communicator. "There must be some way out of this death trap. I want to look around and find one."

Is that the hint of a smile on Kintz A's face? "Ah, you Earth Americans have spirit! I was counting upon that."

"You'll help us, then?"

"Of course we shall, Lady Amanda. We are all within the identical boat, are we not?"

I ask her many questions. She tells me:

  * The ship runs automatically along a fixed route.

  * It has stopped here for repair and maintenance.

  * Robots do everything.

  * The guard never comes by unless there's a big problem.

  * The last big problem occurred when Kintz One tried to sabotage the previous takeoff.

"I feared the guard intended to slay my brother," Kintz A says, "but his orders obviously forbid that. He did inflict much pain, however."

Sometimes we don't need the communicator, as we understand each other by intuition. I'm feeling much stronger and more alert. Kintz A is radiating energy into me with her warm, upbeat attitude. The gloom vulture that's been circling over me takes off.

"You were floating around in a ball of light when we first saw you," I say. "Can you do that again?"

"Of course we can. We merely direct the energy fields from the ship's power units to our own purposes."

"I was wondering how you did that."

"Should you visit us in our home world, you would find our capabilities to be much more limited."

"Maybe some other time," I say.

"Nor would you find our males to be so electrical. Such violent displays are supercharged expressions of their mating energy, using power from the ship's units."

Well, I don't want to hear any more about that. "I'd like to ride in the glow ball and see the rest of this ship. Can you take me with you?"

"Why yes, my lady. That is as easy as determining the square root of four."

With my revived brain I understand we have to accomplish two things: First, create some "big problem" for the guard so he'll come out. That way, we can fight him. Second, prevent any takeoff until we get out of the ship.

Kintz A motions with her long arm. "Come, Lady Amanda. We must all stand closely together."

Oh boy, what am I getting into?

It's too late for second thoughts, the die is cast, whatever that means. I find myself stepping forward. Then I'm surrounded by Kintz A's arms. I'm jammed together with the three aliens.

Kintz A closes her eyes. Her face takes on a weird, flickering glow, like the fluorescent tube in our bathroom when it's burning out. Blinding light explodes around us.

18. Psycho Elevator

"Ahhh!"

My voice stays behind as we shoot up into the darkness on a psycho elevator ride. My stomach flips like a burger on a hot grill. It's a good thing I missed lunch; otherwise, I'd be throwing up.

"Goodness!" Kintz A says.

She slows our steep climb, and I'm able to gulp my stomach back down.

"My apologies, Lady Amanda. There is far more power available now than earlier."

All around us is excruciating brightness, much worse than at the beach on a hot, cloudless day. I place my arms in front of my face to protect myself from it.

Through the painful light, I can see the hands on my watch doing the maniac whirl. They stop dead, then start moving again. The air smells like a Fourth of July sparkler, and something else...

A damp, awful smell issues from the brightness, like it's coughing up from a fresh-dug grave. A haunting voice says, " _Come on in, little girl. You'll like it here."_

"Stop it!"

"Pardon, Lady Amanda?"

"Nothing, it's just... Why is there more power now?"

"Ah, Lady Amanda." Kintz A's voice trembles. "I fear the ship is preparing for takeoff. The energy fields spiked this way shortly before our previous departure."

A bolt of terror stabs through me like a lance from the King Arthur book. My mind goes blank.

Calm down, Amanda! This is just a science fiction movie, and the script says you're supposed to act brave.

I don't feel brave, though. "How long have we got?"

"Alas, I reckon but thirty Earth America minutes or thereabouts," Kintz A says. "Then the dynamo will have built sufficient velocity for takeoff."

She and the other girls begin to cry.

"Stop that!" I shout. "We've got to figure something out fast or we'll get frozen into corpse-sicles."

I hadn't meant to yell so loud, but it's the only way to keep myself from screaming out of control. The girls shut up, thank heaven.

"Let's keep focused. No more crying, it doesn't help any."

"We shall try, Lady Amanda," Kintz A says.

I fan my fingers over my eyes and peek out through the gaps. I sure could use some sunglasses. Tears blur what vision I still have. I'm gripped with sudden fury. A flaming red anger replaces the white glow. We're trapped, in great danger, and the people outside who are supposed to protect us from these alien horrors have done nothing. Worse, they've been bought off.

"Tell me about the bribes the guard paid out," I say.

"Ah yes, the blue diamonds," Kintz A says. "They are gems of rare beauty, but perhaps they will not benefit the receivers as much as expected."

"How so?"

"The diamonds are creations of a different time and universe. They may not survive once the supporting power of the ship is withdrawn."

19. The Blue Diamond

Mayor "Honest Joe" Lazar leaned back in his chair. His feet rested their alligator leather shoes on his desk, his hands joined behind his head, and his teeth clenched a long, premium cigar. The _No Smoking_ sign on the wall disappeared behind a cloud of smoldering tobacco.

"Ahhh. It doesn't get much better than this!"

The fabulous blue diamond reposed inside the top drawer of his desk. Lazar had consulted a top gem authority, a man noted for his discretion—meaning he didn't ask questions about treasures of unknown origins. A man who knew how such items could be quietly sold so that inconvenient persons, such as the tax authorities, didn't find out.

Lazar was floored when he learned the diamond's value. If sold to the right buyer, it would bring millions. This "right buyer" was being contacted now, and soon the deal would be settled.

Then good-bye South Allendale. He'd get a Caribbean island estate with a yacht and private airplane—and lots of pretty girls, too. Women always went for a guy with money, even if he was a bit old and dumpy looking. The first thing he'd do once he got to the tropics would be...

An unpleasant smell wafted among the cigar fumes. Mayor Lazar took his feet off his desk; the chair legs banged down. Smoke poured out of his desk drawer!

In a panic, Lazar wrenched it open. The blue diamond sputtered amid a thick mass of acrid vapor. Lazar leaped to his feet and grabbed the diamond. A shock vibrated up his arm like the bite of a poisonous snake.

"Ow!"

He dropped the diamond. It rolled across the floor, hissing and smoking. After a few seconds, it disappeared, evaporated into thin air. Only a small carpet burn remained.

Honest Joe flopped into his chair amid his collapsed dreams, too shocked to move. Then he ripped the telephone off its hook and jabbed a button.

"Hello." Police Chief Bascomb's voice answered.

"Drop whatever you're doing!" Lazar howled. "We're going out to that tire giant."

20. Glow Ride

We float inside a crackly, shining bright globe. Little shocks tingle my skin. Our hair wafts around like seaweed in a gentle current, or the hair of dead people sinking to the ocean bottom.

I can't see much outside our little sphere, but I sense machinery and other things lurking around. Activity is going on out there, I just can't detect it with my human senses. Maybe the aliens can take in more with their button eyes.

"Do you know how any of that stuff works?" I ask.

"Alas, no, Lady Amanda," Kintz A replies. "Females in our society do not receive much technical education." Her American voice sounds rather sad, but her face is its usual ivory blank.

The whole place seemed empty before, like it really was a hollow tire, but maybe stuff was hiding behind a time warp. Did the pretzel beams from our lights vanish into it?

"Are there escape hatches? How about that ramp we came in on?"

"The guard would know," Kintz A says. "Unfortunately, we do not."

"We have to get at the guard!"

Things outside our globe appear in flashes of light and blips of sound. Just as I make something out, it's gone. I see robot type things floating nearby waving long, spindly arms. They vanish into the gloom.

I grip Kintz A's arm. "What are those things?"

"They service and protect the machinery. They will not harm us if we do not tamper with anything."

"I'm glad to hear that." They sure looked nasty. Were there claws at the end of those snaky arms?

"They restrained my brother when he tried to sabotage our previous takeoff. They were quite effective, and there was no need for the guard to administer a beating, except that he enjoys such cruelties."

Her voice catches, but she doesn't cry. Ordinarily, I'd want to comfort her, but there isn't time. If we get through this mess, maybe we can all have a good cry together.

"Where's that dynamo you mentioned?"

"It is a great metallic ring circling the ship. It spins at high velocity as the craft prepares for takeoff, and... why, you may see its outline now."

A band flickers into life around us. Its dull yellow glow arches high above and swoops down below our feet. Everything outside it turns inky dark. It's like we're in the middle of a glowing friendship ring, although it is anything but friendly.

"I don't like the looks of that much," I say.

"Nor do we!" the girls wail.

The lighted band turns slowly. The motion is hypnotic. I feel it pulling my mind away.

Kintz A shakes me hard. "Lady Amanda!"

"Yes... what is it?"

"Stay with us, Lady Amanda."

I yank my eyes from the glow and shut them tight. When I open them again, the shimmering band has lost its fascination. I've overcome its allure. There's no time to savor the victory, though.

"We have to stop that dynamo before it gets moving too fast," I say. "What if it spun the other way? Would it reverse the direction of the ship, send you back toward home?"

"My brother thought so," Kintz A says. "He was trying to influence the dynamo's progress when he was caught. The dynamo is large, but very sensitive."

The lighted band turns faster. Low, moaning vibration fills the darkness, sending a tingle of fear up my spine.

"We have to it try again," I say. "There are more of us now."

"I do not wish to discourage you, Lady Amanda, but the robots will prevent that."

"How fast can those things move?"

"Faster than any of us can run, unfortunately. My brother discovered that."

My heart sinks. Every passageway out of this nightmare world smacks into a brick wall. Why don't I just give up. Who could blame me for that? Maybe I can jump out of this globe and hurtle down in a final swan dive.

If only Quentin were his old self! He was always so strong and confident—before he crashed and got electrified, before our problems overwhelmed him. I need him so much now. But there he is, far below, sitting dejected by the bikes.

The bikes! A magnificent idea explodes in my mind. "Get me back down."

"As your ladyship wishes,"

Kintz A closes her eyes and goes rigid. We begin to sink.

"Lady Amanda has devised a plan?" Kintz C asks.

"You bet I have."

Kintz A opens her eyes. We are drifting toward the floor, and she is in easy control.

"Of course, we will assist you any way we can," she says, "but please be aware of the cost, should you succeed."

"Cost?" I don't like where this conversation is going.

"Yes, Lady Amanda. In our world, everything must be paid for. Is it not likewise in yours?"

"Yeah..."

"Please bear this in mind then. If you are successful, Earth America will be regarded as an enemy by the rebels. They will seek revenge if they can. They know how to get here, after all."

"You mean, an invasion?"

"Yes, a powerful one."

We're on the floor, and our globe starts to fade out. The wild hope that blazed inside me is fading, too.

"Those guys are pretty tough, eh?" I ask.

"Very, and they have no scruple. We have learned that to our sorrow."

"So... if we do nothing and allow the ship to take off, would they bother us here?"

"I would deem that less likely," Kintz A says.

Our globe blinks out.

"I regret telling you this, Lady Amanda, but it is honorable that I provide the available facts."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Are all people on this planet Earth Americans?" Kintz B asks.

"No, but that's their problem."

"It does not matter," Kintz A says, "should the rebels come here, they will turn their wrath upon everyone."

21. Crunch Time

I plunk down to reality beside the dynamo band. It's about seven feet across and gives off a quivery, dead light that sucks warmth and hope out of the atmosphere—the Yellow Brick Road to Nowhere.

"We shall be nearby," Kintz A says. "Summon us should you desire."

"Okay, thanks."

The girls move away. They must figure I need some alone time for deep thinking. But I don't want to be alone, and I'm tired of thinking. I'm about to call for Eddie when he appears beside me.

"Looks like it's starting." He gestures to the dynamo band. "Won't be long before takeoff."

He seems unnaturally calm, as if this whole situation is no big deal. Light shimmering up from the floor streaks over his face in a horror movie effect.

"I already found that out," I say.

"What else did you find out up there?"

"I-I don't know. I can't get it straight in my mind."

"Maybe I can help."

I take a deep breath. "Okay, tell me which is better, or at least less bad: A few people survive and the whole world suffers, or a few people have to die, and the whole world benefits."

"You mean us, right?"

"Well... yes."

I tried to keep things general, but Eddie saw right through me. He doesn't hesitate a second to answer.

"It's wrong to throw people away. I've been thrown away before and didn't like it much."

"But, I mean the whole world – "

"The world's bigger than us, right?" Eddie says.

"Right."

"So, I think it can take care of itself."

"Yeah, but – "

Eddie sticks out his hand. "Are you through with the communicator? I want to talk to Kintz One, while I still can."

"Sure." I hand over the device, and Eddie walks off.

The little brat! He's abandoning me when I need him most. How am I supposed to make this huge decision by myself?

Eddie already said everything he's going to, though. He's smart, if you look beneath the grime, and his opinion is crystal clear. The glow band speeds up, the whining gets louder. Doomsday is coming on fast.

I think of my family and all the other people I'll never see again. Mom and Dad will take it hard when I don't come home. Dad, especially, will be broken up. He's real tough on the outside, but deep inside—where he keeps me and Mom—I believe he's very delicate.

They can have more kids, can't they? Maybe the next one won't hurt them so much.

I'll never see my beautiful room again, or the kids in my class. Karen, Shelly and all the rest, they'll never know I was a hero. They won't understand that their whole future depends on my sacrifice. They'll grow up, get married and have kids of their own, never realizing they have _me_ to thank for everything.

I'm getting puffed-up on this idea: _Amanda Searles, Savior of the World_.

What a crappy way to think!

I'm only one person, but what's more important than that? Is everybody else better than me, just because there're more of them? I think of Dad fighting the communists in Korea and Great Aunt Tania battling the Nazis in Russia. What would they tell me to do?

I know what they'd say. "Don't go down without a fight. Make it count!"

The glow band hurts my eyes, and I turn my back to it. Heck, I can't figure out all the stuff that might happen, nobody can. All I know is that my friends need me.

_I_ need me.

We have to fight this enemy, now. They won't respect us otherwise. If they think 'Earth America' is a pushover, what will stop them from coming again? If they win their civil war back home, they might want to expand their empire here. Or if they lose the war on their home turf, then why not take us over? Sort of a consolation prize.

They're like Hitler. People tried to buy him off, but he attacked them, anyway. The small groups that got killed in the beginning didn't matter at all.

I stride over to our bikes.

22. We Begin to Fight

Quentin and Tommy sit near the bikes, staring at the floor with hang-dog expressions. I grab my Hornet and sweep back its kickstand. The boys look up.

"Come on guys, move it!" I steer my bike onto the glowing band.

Eddie emerges from the shadows. "What're you doing?"

"Maybe we can reverse this dynamo and send the ship back. At least, we might force the guard out so we can fight him."

I hop on my bike and pedal against the direction the band is moving.

Melissa twists around in Kintz One's arms. "That's the dumbest thing I ever heard."

"If you've got a better idea, spill it," I say, already panting from the strain. "Otherwise, get over here and help!"

"I'd better ask Kintz One about this," Eddie says.

"Go ahead."

I'm finished with talking. Either my plan works or it doesn't. What do I lose by trying? Now that a definite course of action is available, Quentin returns to life. He springs to his feet and grabs Old Reliable. He looks twice as big as he'd been just seconds ago.

"Come on Tommy!"

The boys jump on their bikes and ride along with me. Although we pedal hard, we're scarcely moving; the dynamo cancels out our effort. Worse, two robots are hurtling down at us from the upper regions.

"Kintz One says it might work!" Eddie calls. "You're going the wrong way, though."

"About face!" Quentin says.

Just like that, he assumes command, which is okay with me. Let somebody else take the heat for a while.

The robots are nearly on us. They're cylinder type things with rotating domes and flashing red eyes. One comes directly at me, its gangly arms waving. Metal claws snap.

"Let's get out of here!" I wail.

We turn our bikes around and instantly begin moving at incredible speed. Robot claws yank my T-shirt, then pull away. Before I have any idea what's happening, we're zooming up the arch of the dynamo.

"Ahhh!"

We're on a nightmare roller coaster going up and up through the darkness. I pump the pedals for all I'm worth as the dynamo pushes me along. We near the top. The universe sprawls ahead in a black void ready to suck us in.

"Hang on everybody!" Quentin yells.

We go over the top of the arch, upside down. I'm lifting off the bike; my sweaty hands can barely hold onto the handlebars. Any second I'll go into free fall!

We're right side up again, swooshing down the curve. A powerful force jams me into the seat. I feel my face pulling off my skull.

"Geronimo!" Quentin shouts.

"I can do that too," Melissa says as we zip past her.

She jumps on her English racer and takes off after us. Eddie and the Kintz run along behind. I wish I was on foot, I wish I was anyplace but where I am.

Oh please, somebody take my bike.

I'm going way too fast to get off, though. We are heading up the arch again to another gut-wrenching, upside down flip.

"This sure is fun!" Tommy says.

Fun? I've never been so terrified in my life. And that's saying a lot, considering the day I'm having.

Is the dynamo slowing down a little, or is that just my frantic brain acting up? By some miracle, I make it over the top again. As we hurtle down at terrifying speed, Melissa pulls alongside Quentin.

"Is that as fast as you can go?"

"Watch me," Quentin shoots back.

We're going up again. I fear my heart will explode. I pray I'll be able to hang on, just one more time.

23. Race against Death

The _Rung! Rung!_ of Old Reliable's front tire grows faster.

Melissa battles neck and neck with Quentin. She looks like a warrior princess, long blonde hair flowing, her eyes fierce and mouth clamped into a determined line. You'd never guess she'd been passed out only a short time ago.

Three robots descend right in front of us, blocking the route.

Melissa drops back alongside me. "Maybe this isn't such a hot idea."

"Outta the way, metal man!" Quentin shouts.

He charges the middle robot.

"Watch out!" I cry.

Quentin barrels straight at the horrible thing in a demonic game of chicken. I want to look away but can't.

"Ohhh!" I feel my whole world ending. How can we get through this without Quentin?

At the last possible instant, the robot darts upwards, and Quentin rolls under it.

"Ya-Hoo!" he shouts. "Score one for the good guys!"

Another robot drops in front of me.

"Move over!"

The thing hovers, not budging an inch. I lower my head. The robot draws closer and closer, becoming impossibly huge. I shut my eyes tight, then –

I'm past it!

I fly over the top of the arch, and my stomach drops out again. On the downward slope, Quentin is well ahead.

"Oh, no you don't!" Melissa yells.

She pours on the energy and catches up. Quentin is pedaling so hard I think he'll burst a blood vessel. Even in the dim light, his face looks beet red.

The spin beneath our wheels is slowing down; the dynamo isn't pushing us along with nearly as much force. It was apparently never designed for bikes. At our next pass over the arch, I almost fall off, as the centrifugal force holding us up is not as strong.

KA-BROING!

Old Reliable breaks in two. The front part flies off one direction, and the rest of the bike another. Quentin bounces down between them. Melissa shoots forward, out of danger. I manage to steer clear, but Tommy is heading straight into the disaster.

"Look out Tommy!"

He swerves hard, and the violent maneuver throws him off his bike. He skids a long distance before stopping.

Eddie runs up. "My turn!"

He seizes Tommy's Hornet and jumps on. Soon he's leading the pack. I'm much too tired to keep up.

Melissa pulls alongside. "Hang in there, Amanda. We're gonna win yet."

Tommy and Quentin seem uninjured. They join the Kintz, running for all they're worth. The robots try to harass them, but can't keep up.

"Yippee!" Eddie shouts. "I'm King of the World!"

He jerks an arm around, like a rodeo guy riding a bronco. He does a solo pass over the arch, howling all the way. Just as Melissa and I are heading for another upside down revolution, a powerful lurch shakes the floor.

"Bombs away!" Eddie cries.

We fall off our bikes. Somehow, I tumble free from my crashing Hornet without getting hurt. I tuck in my knees and roll down the slope; Melissa's English racer misses me by inches. Finally I stop, sprawled on the lighted band, gasping for air.

24. Robot Hazard

"We did it!" Eddie jumps around like a demented jack in the box, flinging his arms.

How nice he has so much energy left. I can scarcely move, let alone do a victory dance. The dynamo has reversed direction, but my insides are moving a hundred miles an hour the opposite way.

"Off the dynamo, everybody," Quentin says. "Cover up!"

I crawl onto the stationary floor, and my spinning world slows a little. A robot zooms down and shoves its glowing eyes into my face.

"Ahhh!" I roll into a porcupine ball. "Go away!"

The robot jabs me with its clawed hands. It doesn't use much force, but I can tell it's very strong—it could poke right through me.

Is this how it ends, a human shish kabob?

But the thing must decide I'm no longer a threat because it moves away. I peek open one eye.

The robot lifts my bike off the dynamo. Other robots clear debris off the glow band or hover around checking things. One of them has a grip on Tommy and is hauling him away.

Tommy struggles fiercely, but cannot break free. "Put me down!"

"Quit fighting!" Quentin yells. "Go limp!"

Tommy goes limp.

The robot stops moving upwards. It flies around on the same level a while, then releases Tommy.

_Thump!_ He lands beside me.

"Uhhh."

"Are you all right?"

"Sure, just thought I'd drop by." Tommy looks toward Quentin. "I could have used that 'light fall jacket' of yours."

Quentin gives him a thumbs up.

Four of our robot friends buzz along the dynamo, examining the glow band. Two others herd us together like we're a bunch of sheep. They float nearby with a 'you'd better stay put' glower in their red eyes. We stay put.

"I don't think they like us much," Tommy says.

"The feeling is mutual," Melissa says.

The robots hurtle back into the higher regions, leaving us alone.

# Four: Battle for Freedom

25. Premature Celebration

Everyone rushes me.

"Way to go, Amanda!" Quentin yells.

He picks me up, spins around 360 degrees, and puts me back on my feet. "You're the brains of our outfit. What would we do without you?"

"No more of that, please. My head still isn't on straight."

Eddie and Tommy cheer, the alien girls clap their hands.

"Congratulations, Lady Amanda," Kintz A says into the translator. "You are a personage of rare abilities."

Kintz One kisses both my cheeks. His lips are cool and tingly, a little spark jumps out each time he pulls away. Melissa stands to the side, arms crossed and a huge frown on her face, staring daggers at me.

"Don't worry, Melissa," I say, "he's not my type. Too electrical."

Old Reliable's back end is lying nearby where the robots dropped it. Quentin unbuckles the leather bag attached to the seat.

"What do you know?" He pulls out his red camera. "It's still in one piece."

"That's some camera," Tommy says. "Too bad your bike didn't hold up as well."

Quentin rummages his slingshot out of the bag, along with a packet of steel pellets. "Just in case."

"Wouldn't it be cool to take a picture?" Melissa says.

Quentin shakes his head. "No flash."

"Don't you have a time exposure gizmo?"

"Yeah, but there's nothing to support the camera. The picture would be blurry."

It isn't wise fooling around with a camera while we're still in so much danger, but I get carried away. I can't be a hero all the time, and wouldn't it be nice to record the occasion?

"Let's have one of the Kintz hold the camera," I suggest, "they can stand real still."

"Okay." Quentin pulls up the time exposure lever. "Tell them to hold down the shutter button until I whistle."

I bring the camera to Kintz A. "Look through here, stand very still, and hold down this button until Quentin whistles."

I turn toward Quentin. He makes a brief, high-pitched sound.

Kintz A examines the camera. "How quaint. I have seen such devices in our museum back home."

"Somebody else can hold camera next," I say, "then you can be in the second picture."

"I am honored, Lady Amanda."

We all stand together with the glow band throwing dramatic back light. I am between Kintz One and Tommy.

Kintz A looks through the viewfinder. "Stand closer together, please."

"Wait a second." Melissa maneuvers herself between me and Kintz One. She wraps an arm around the alien's waist and draws him close. "Okay, shoot."

Kintz A is about to press the shutter button when a heavy _clunk!_ shakes the darkness. Our smiles vanish.

"It's the guard," Eddie whispers.

26. Mayor Lazar to the Rescue

Officer Jenkins, asleep in his patrol car, startled awake. Another police cruiser approached with siren wailing and lights flashing.

Jenkins exited his vehicle and straightened his uniform as the second car arrived. Mayor Lazar and Police Chief Bascomb bounded out.

"Why didn't you respond to our radio call?" Lazar demanded.

"Sorry, sir," Jenkins said, "my radio is out of order."

Lazar looked at Bascomb, who shrugged agreement.

"That's right, Mayor," Bascomb said. "You wanted a car out here ASAP, so we sent this one before we could check out the radio."

"Yes, yes... well," Lazar blustered. "Stand at attention when I'm addressing you, officer Jenkins."

Patrolman Jenkins snapped to attention.

"At ease."

He relaxed.

Bascomb retrieved a shotgun from his car and shoved it into Jenkins's hands. "Cover us. We're going to that tire giant."

Jenkins eyed the weapon with uneasiness. "Yes, sir."

The three men moved out onto the park's wet grass. Mayor Lazar was so upset he didn't even care about his elegant shoes getting soaked. He'd been foully cheated. He'd taken a bribe in good faith, and the other party had stiffed him.

Nobody takes advantage of Joe Lazar. Payback time is coming, buck-o!

As Lazar moved farther into the park, his courage waned. "Are you sure them other two police officers are coming?"

"Yes, sir," Bascomb said. "They're moving along the tracks. They should arrive about the time we do."

"Did you bring a gun, also?"

Bascomb lifted his jacket to reveal his service revolver. "Right here, as always, sir."

Lazar felt a slight bit reassured. He glanced nervously over his shoulder toward the patrol cars. He could barely see them through the fog.

Why didn't I send the cops out on their own? They're paid to risk their lives.

Because his vital interests were involved, that's why. Whoever got to the bottom of this mystery would get the credit. He imagined the newspaper headlines:

Heroic Mayor Leads Raid on Illegal Tire Giant!

That had a nice ring to it. He could see the TV reporters interviewing him, holding their microphones respectfully as he spoke. This could be the start of something big. A higher office than mayor of this Podunk town awaited him... but that was in the future. Right now they were at the steep banks of a creek.

"I thought there was supposed to be a bridge here," Lazar said.

Bascomb pointed to some boards lying in the shallow water. "That must be what's left of it. I'm afraid we're going to have to get our feet wet."

Lazar nodded sourly and looked away from the chilly water. Ahead, beyond the railroad tracks and the thick greenery, lay their objective. He couldn't see the tire giant through the fog, but he sensed its ominous presence—waiting for him like a prehistoric monster.

Flashes came from the mist, as of lightning crackles. Lazar's nerve failed; cold panic reached for him. He took a step back, then another.

"A-all right, men," he said. "You go on ahead and – "

He stepped on some slick mud. His feet shot out, and he went down on his ample rear end, sliding over the edge.

"Help!"

Lazar tumbled down the bank, flattening the underbrush in his way, and splashed into the creek.

Police Chief Bascomb managed to keep from laughing, but he couldn't conceal a nasty grin on his face. "Well, boys, let's go get him."

27. Jump City

We draw closer together. A cold blanket of dread settles over us. Our eyes and ears strain through the spooky dimness. The photo session is definitely over.

"The guard will be after blood," Kintz One whispers, "and he will reverse the dynamo unless we can stop him."

"All right," Quentin says, "here's the chance to jump somebody and make it count."

"I don't know," Tommy says. "We saw how Kintz One fried you out. This Basitch character has to be a lot worse."

"I'd rather get fried here than flash frozen in outer space. Isn't that right, Eddie... Eddie?"

We all glance around.

"Where'd he go?" Tommy says.

"I should have figured he'd take off when we need him most," Melissa says.

My knees go weak. I feel as if my best friend of all time has dumped me in the middle of the ocean.

"Alas, we have lost a stalwart warrior," Kintz A says.

Well, who can blame him? He didn't invite us here, and maybe he figured out some survival plan that can work only for himself. He must know more about this ship than he let on. My feelings of betrayal run deep, though.

"The guard will soon be here," Kintz One says. "We shall attack him?"

Quentin gives a strong thumbs up. "Yeah!"

We all nod.

Kintz A takes my hand. "May success crown our efforts. If not, it will be an honor to die at your side."

"Uh, thanks." If she's trying to buck me up, it isn't working very well.

A long, thin shaft of light stabs along the floor. We edge away from it into the darkest recess and lay ourselves out flat. A tall figure appears, framed by a bright doorway. He still wears his floppy hat, but I can see a face under it now.

That face is deathly pale, with a sharp nose and burning red eyes. The mouth is twisted into an angry snarl, and its teeth are pointy.

"That guy's bad news," Tommy whispers.

The door slides shut behind the Basitch man. Kintz One spreads his long arms over us, pulling us deeper into the dark.

"I shall attack first," he whispers, "stay clear."

"I'll cover you," Quentin says.

The figure moves toward us with a slow, measured step, as if he's walking in a demonic funeral procession. A stream of angry noise pours from his mouth. It sounds like the Kintz language, only much rougher, as if it's being forced through a meat grinder.

He draws nearer, his big coat flopping around his legs. A wave of evil coldness rolls ahead of him. He's powerful and arrogant. The last thing he expects is to get jumped by a bunch of kids. So, at least we have surprise going for us.

My heart is pounding so hard I fear the enemy might hear it, but the dynamo is spinning faster and making more racket.

The guard walks up close to our hiding place and pauses. He moves his head around in jerky little motions. His nostrils flare, like a werewolf sniffing out its victim.

Kintz A grips my arm. I feel ready to faint.

Quentin jumps up. The vampire face turns toward him. "Hey, slime ball!"

He fires his slingshot into the guard's face. An unearthly roar splits the darkness.

"Have another!"

Quentin fires again. Kintz One leaps forward and tackles the guard.

"That's it," Quentin cheers, "stomp him!"

He tries to join the fight, but Tommy holds him back. "Stay out of the fireworks!"

Kintz One and the guard tumble away in an explosion of crackling light. For an instant, everything is painfully bright. What had seemed an empty void is jammed with machinery, pipes, and cables. Is that Eddie hiding in the clutter?

The fight draws back my full attention. I'm transfixed by the jolts and electrified explosions.

"Get him!" Melissa shouts.

It's an unequal battle. The guard soon overcomes his surprise and, with a great blast of power, tosses Kintz One aside.

"Oh, no!" we all wail.

Kintz One lies battered and stunned; his white hair sticks out like porcupine needles. The guard stands and turns his frightful gaze our direction. The full, cold power of his anger washes over us.

"Geronimo!"

Quentin jumps on the Basitch man, knocking him over again.

"Come on!" Tommy shouts.

The rest of us join in, but our attack is doomed. One second I have a hold on the guard's leg, the next I'm inside a gigantic flash...

We're lying flat on our backs with our hair fried and bodies vibrating.

"This is definitely a bad hair day," Melissa groans.

The guard towers over us with hands on hips. Triumph flashes in his eyes. His hat is gone, and his bald head throws off a dull gleam. He barks something in the Kintz language; our alien friends begin crying.

He snatches the communicator. Harsh English words assault our ears. "Earth Americans! You are very brave, but also very stupid."

"Yeah?" Quentin says. "Shut off the fireworks and see how stupid we are."

The Basitch thug seems to understand. He grins, the way a cobra might, if it could, just before it chomps somebody.

"You wish me to toss aside my advantage? For what purpose?"

"To show you're not a lousy coward."

The guard stares at Quentin with pure hatred in his red eyes.

"You _are_ a lousy coward, aren't you?" Quentin mocks.

The guard snarls, but some of the arrogance goes out of him. "I admire your bravery, and I will grant you Earth Americans a favor. I shall kill you now, so you will not have to endure the horrors of a spacewalk."

Tremendous energy is building up in him. His eyes blaze and the atmosphere crackles. A 4th of July sparkler smell fills the air, along with the scent of death. I try to move. If I could just attack him again and go out fighting!

28. Heroic Confrontation

Mayor Lazar and the four police officers broke from the greenery and stood before the tire giant. Their jaws dropped.

"What is that thing?" Lazar gasped.

The douse in the creek had renewed his anger and given him enough courage to scramble up the bank. The appearance of the two extra patrolmen had bucked him up for a final push, but now every shred of his bravery vanished.

He stumbled back, wide-eyed, double chin quivering. The tire giant rumbled and hissed. Its swirling center shot out gigantic sparks. The fringe of hair on Lazar's head bristled.

"Don't panic, men!" Bascomb cried, his voice trembling.

Thick fog covered the top of the tire giant, making the horrible thing look even more mysterious and huge. The five men crept backwards on rubbery legs toward the trees and underbrush. A whining boom came from the tire giant, and it rocked on its foundation.

"Ahhhhh!" the men howled.

Officer Jenkins tripped and fell over backwards. His shotgun discharged, sending a deadly blast by Lazar's ear. The mayor fell to his knees, holding his head in agony.

"Watch out, you idiot!" Bascomb shouted.

"S-sorry, Boss," Jenkins said.

But he could not control his terrified spasms. His finger jerked against the trigger again, and the second barrel discharged straight into the air. Lead pellets showered down on the terrified men.

Lazar staggered back to his feet and took off for the underbrush. The others followed.

29. A Spike in Time

From the far distance, from another world, comes a muffled explosion. Another one.

The guard looks away from us toward the noise. Then –

"Yaaa!"

Eddie charges out of the darkness, waving his railroad spike. The guard spins toward him and points a long finger. A blast of power shoots out.

TA ZAPP!

Eddie ducks under it and slides into the guard's legs like a base runner diving into second. He swings his arm down and stabs the spike into the Basitch man's foot.

"Take that, Dog Face!"

The guard screams, nearly bursting my eardrums.

"Doesn't that sound sweet?" Melissa says.

The Basitch man jerks and gyrates in a savage dance. His howls rip the air. He tries to yank his foot free, but Eddie holds tight.

The rest of us wobble up on trembling legs. My ears ring and my hair stands on end like a picker bush, but I don't care. That thug's agony is giving us all new strength.

"Hang on, Eddie," Quentin says, "we're coming."

A bolt of energy shoots up from the spiked foot. It travels through the guard's body and bursts out of his head.

KA-BOOM!

It explodes in the darkness above. I slap my hands over my ears in time, but the shock wave almost knocks me over. Melissa falls against me, and we brace each other up. The guard collapses into a heap of groans.

"Dang," Eddie says, "I shorted out his circuits."

Thunk! Ka-thunk! Ka-thunk!

A half dozen stunned robots rain like coconuts dropping out of a palm tree. I dodge just in time to avoid getting hit.

"Let's finish him off!" Quentin yells.

He jumps on the fallen enemy, fists and elbows flying. The rest of us pin down the guard's arms and legs or crowd in for stomping rights. Quentin pounds away until he can scarcely move his arms anymore.

"My turn."

Tommy takes Quentin's place, landing punch after punch. Then Kintz One has a go. The guard's frantic struggles weaken, then stop.

Quentin calls a halt to the massacre. "That's enough. He's out cold."

"Lousy dirt bag!" Eddie lands a final kick. "Not such a big shot now, are you?"

30. Preparations

We stand over the beaten guard like a pack of wolves that's brought down a moose. Ordinarily, I'm the sympathetic type, but I feel no pity for this creature.

Eddie brandishes his spike. "Let's shred him, like he was gonna do to us."

Kintz One retrieves the communicator. It's bent and bashed in but still works. "That is a great temptation, Lord Eddie, but we do not favor unnecessary violence. The authorities back home will know what to do with him."

"Okay... whatever," Eddie says, disappointed.

So, it's _Lord_ Eddie now? The Kintz sure hand out a lot of promotions.

Quentin wraps an arm over Eddie's shoulder. "Nice work, pal. We thought you'd run out on us."

Eddie beams. He looks much younger, more like a normal kid. "No offense, Quentin, but I figured anything you tried wouldn't work. So, I planned my own sneak attack."

Melissa pipes up. "Looks like you've got competition for the 'brains of the outfit' title, eh Amanda."

Was that a dig or a compliment? You never know with Melissa. But I don't care. Lord Eddie is the absolute most fantastic kid on the whole planet!

We all congratulate him, and each other, for our great victory. Nine of us stand around in what has to be the strangest gathering ever—a real mutual admiration society.

I think of the old saying: "A stitch in time saves nine." Only now, it's a railroad spike that did the sewing.

Tommy nudges the defeated guard with his foot. "We'd better tie up this bum before he starts more trouble."

"I know," Quentin says. "We'll use Old Reliable's tires and inner tubes. What a great finish for him."

"There're tools in my kitbag," Melissa says, "and a couple of extra tubes."

"Kitbag?" Quentin asks.

"Yes, that's the proper British term for what you'd call a 'bike bag.'"

"Give it a rest already," I say.

Quentin gets to work on the bikes while the rest of us keep watch on the former guard. Eddie stands by hefting his spike, itching for a chance to use it.

Meanwhile, the dynamo picks up speed and makes more noise. The robots recover their senses and fly off to check for damage.

"I hope that explosion didn't wreck anything," I say. "It would be too bad if the aliens got stuck here."

"Not necessarily," Melissa says, looking straight at Kintz One. "We'd just have to make arrangements is all."

The prisoner groans back into consciousness and tries to move. Kintz One jams a knee into his chest to hold him down.

Eddie shoves the spike under his chin. "Go ahead, Dog Face, give me an excuse to use this!"

The prisoner settles back. Soon we have him tightly wrapped in tires and inner tubes. The Kintz girls find some thick wire to finish the job. The Basitch guy looks like a half-baked mummy.

As a finishing touch, Quentin twists an inner tube around the prisoner's neck and sticks a wrench through it as a tightener. "Just in case he needs some persuading."

I don't like all this cruel stuff but must harden myself to it. This Basitch guy planned to kill us, not to mention all the mean stuff he did to the Kintz kids.

The dynamo is spinning a lot faster, and it can't be long before it reaches take off speed. The time to leave is _now_.

"He seems under control," I say. "We ought to be going, don't you think?"

"I'm for that," Tommy says. "We've been inside this rubber coffin way too long."

"Yeah," Quentin agrees.

Melissa takes Kintz One by the hands. "It would be nice if you could come with us, but I suppose you have to get back to your family... and your girlfriend."

She kisses him on the cheek. Kintz One reddens.

"You're embarrassing him," I say.

"Good, at least he'll remember me."

Kintz One changes the subject in a hurry. "You will have to use the emergency hatch, my friends. I shall find out how it works."

He says something to the prisoner, but gets no reply.

"Use the persuader," Eddie says.

Kintz One wrenches the neck inner tube, and the Basitch man chokes loudly. Despite myself, I feel a bit sorry for him. I can afford it, now that he's no longer a threat.

Eddie does not share the feeling. "Twist his rotten head off!"

The Basitch man's face turns red, then purple. When Kintz One release the pressure, the former guard is more cooperative. A torrent of alien words pours from his mouth.

"That is much better," Kintz One says. "I shall open the hatch for you now."

"Let me help, okay?" Eddie says.

"Certainly, Lord Eddie."

Kintz One and Eddie move off while the rest of us say our good-byes. The Kintz girls crowd around, hugging us and talking sadly in their musical voices.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to know you better," I say. "I'm really glad we could help each other, though."

"Yeah," Quentin says. "I wish you could have taught us that flame ball game."

We all understand each other, even without the communicator. A warm flood of affection rolls over me, and I almost want to stay behind. The Kintz girls hug me close, like the sisters I don't have back home.

A small oval of light appears off in the darkness.

"Go now!" Kintz One shouts. "Farewell, my friends!"

"Hey, what about my bike?" Melissa says.

"Forget it!" I grab her arm and take off.

We don't make any progress. The more we run toward the escape hatch, the farther away it gets.

"This isn't working out," Melissa says.

Kintz A grabs my hand. The twins take hold of Tommy and Quentin. We all run like crazy. The emergency hatch gets nearer, but also smaller. It's starting to shrink closed!

We jump.

31. Escape Tumble

"Farewell! Farewell..." Kintz voices drift away behind us.

We pitch through a dark tunnel, bouncing off the walls and into each other. Melissa's hair is in my face, almost smothering me, then somebody's foot replaces it, then I'm tumbling around alone.

I can't see a thing! Time is all crazy. Which way is up – what universe am I in?

I cry out. Shouts and screams loop around as if from a million miles away. Pictures flash through my mind. All the people and things that matter to me zip by—Mom and Dad, Grandpa Searles, school, my Russian grandparents. I see my room back home; it's beautiful as a palace.

Just as it seems I'll never get away, I'm lying in the wet grass outside. I have no idea how I got here. It's as if some magician has _abracadabra_ -ed me onto the spot. I feel rooted to the earth, my beautiful United States of America, but my head is still spinning around in some other dimension.

It's getting late, and the sky is clearing up. Low sun rays jab through the broken cloud cover. My clothes are all wet from the damp ground, and a picker weed stabs into my back. The discomfort almost feels good because it tells me I'm part of the real world again.

"Oh man," Tommy groans, "I feel like I've been tossed through a clothes dryer."

I roll off the picker weed. Tommy, Quentin, and Melissa are sprawled around me. They're as dazed as I am, but nobody seems badly hurt. The Tire Giant looms over us nearby, rumbling and whooshing, shooting out sparks. I try to avoid looking at it.

Melissa is the first to stand up. "Look at my outfit. It's completely ruined!"

"What could be worse?" I say.

The rest of us get back on our feet. I'm a bit unsteady, but not nearly as bad as when the Basitch man zapped us.

"Where's Eddie?" Quentin says.

We glance around. Not a trace of him.

"He's got a real knack for disappearing," Melissa says.

"Maybe he landed in the bushes," Tommy says.

I run toward the thick greenery. "Eddie! Are you okay?"

"Up here, Amanda!"

I turn back toward the Tire Giant, only it isn't a tire any longer. It's disguise is vaporizing, revealing the flying saucer type thing inside. The middle spins at great speed, whipping the air. Growing vibrations shake the ground.

Only the outer part is motionless. Eddie's head pokes out from a little hatchway.

"I'm going with them!" he yells. "It's got to be more fun than here. Kintz One says I'll be a hero."

"Good luck," I shout, "give them my love!"

"Same to you. Catch!"

He tosses out the Detroit Tigers baseball cap. The wind from the spinning saucer flings it onto the bushes.

"Give it back to Joey Blanton, okay? Tell him to hang in there."

"Sure Eddie." Quentin snatches the cap out of the bushes. "You've got my camera. Send us a picture post card."

"Have fun riding my bike!" Tommy yells.

"Thanks." Eddie tosses something else out. "Here's a souvenir."

The Basitch man's floppy hat comes wafting down. Tommy leaps and snags it before it blows into the bushes. With a final wave, Eddie closes the hatch.

"You know, I'm going to miss him," Tommy says.

"Yeah, he was pretty cool," Quentin says, "once you got past the railroad spike part."

The ship spins faster and faster. The whine becomes a deafening roar. Then the whole thing simply vanishes. We are alone, staring off into a blank sky. I rub my eyes with both hands.

"I wonder how Eddie managed things," Tommy says. "Didn't Kintz A tell us they couldn't carry any more passengers?"

A bright flash appears high up. It streaks across the sky like a shooting star, then blinks out.

"I believe that answers your question," I say. "Looks like they ejected the guard without a parachute."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer guy," Melissa says.

Tommy holds up the hat. "Maybe he was coming back for this."

Two more small flashes appear in the sky.

"That must be Old Reliable," Quentin says. "So long, old friend!"

I'm overcome with joyfulness and gratitude, so are Tommy and Quentin. We stand together in a group hug, our tears flowing freely. Even super macho Quentin shows no embarrassment.

Only Melissa is in a sour mood. "Just when I meet an interesting boy, he takes off. And my poor bike! I'll never get another one like it."

32. The Posse Arrives

Three policemen emerge from the trees, guns at the ready. A mean-looking guy in a suit is with them; I think he's the police chief. Mayor Lazar brings up the rear.

"We've got company," Tommy says.

The men look astonished to discover the tire giant is gone.

"Check over there, men," the police chief says.

Two of the cops roam about the area where the tire used to be, as if they expect it to pop into existence again. Another cop and the police chief approach us.

"What can we do for you?" Tommy asks. He's always so diplomatic.

"Did you see what happened?" the police chief barks.

"Actually, we just got here," Quentin says. "Isn't that right, guys?"

Quentin doesn't sound very convincing, but we all agree with him.

The police chief drills us with a suspicious glower. "Maybe you can tell us your story down at the station."

"You can't take us there," Quentin protests. "My mom would kill me."

"Can't I?" the chief says. "You're trespassing, for starters, and a town ordinance specifically forbids people to walk along railroad tracks. You did get here along the tracks, didn't you?"

"Well, no," Tommy says. "We just sort of tumbled into this place."

I slip away to Mayor Lazar. He's standing off to the side trying to look important, despite his muddy, soaked clothing.

"A little late, aren't you, Mayor?" I say. "What happened, did your blue diamond take a powder?"

Lazar gives me a startled look; he turns a shade paler. "What do you know about blue diamonds?"

"Enough, and unless you want everybody else to know, you'll let me and my friends go—no questions asked."

Lazar flushes red, then back to pale. "Come now, this is only a routine investigation."

"We want to 'routine' it out of here, right now."

Mayor Lazar straightens his soggy jacket and walks over to the police chief.

"I'd like a word with you, Chief Bascomb," he says.

They move off a short distance to confer. The two policemen searching the area come back to guard us so we don't run off. The third policeman stands by with a shotgun. Our tax dollars at work.

After a minute, Lazar looks our direction and waves his hand irritably, as it to say: "Get out and don't come back!"

And so we are free, pushing our way through the shrubbery and into the railroad track wasteland. The whole area is wet and dreary, but to me it seems the middle of paradise.

33: Demise of the Club

This was the end of the Adventure Bike Club, seeing as none of us had bikes anymore.

That's not exactly true. Melissa's twin brother, Davis, also received an English racer for a birthday present. He didn't really want it, though, and he gave it to Quentin who was in desperate need of wheels.

"I never forget a pal!" Quentin said.

After that, he kept an eye on Davis, elbowing aside any bullies that might try to bother him.

"How'd you like to get your face rearranged?" Quentin would ask them.

We're all still friends, but we have to turn to different things for adventure. And that's a whole other story.

THE END

Editor's Note:

If you're ever on I-94 near Detroit, you can see a real giant tire alongside the road. It was once a ride at the World's Fair and then became an advertisement. It's not scary like the tire in this story, but it is pretty cool.

Thanks for reading! You must have liked the story if you got this far, so why not write a review? Just a few words is okay, either at the online bookstore where you obtained this book or in any other medium you wish. May numerous blessings come your way.

# Next Book in the Series

_The Great Flying Adventure_ is the next book in the Time Before Color TV series. Please click here to obtain a copy.

# Brian's Other Books

Here are brief descriptions of my other books for young readers. They are available at all major online retailers in ebook format. Also, please check my Smashwords author page.

The Lost Country

Crown Prince Rupert struggles against ignorance and superstition to rally his countrymen against a dire threat coming from the mysterious Eastlands. When disaster finally strikes, it's up to Rupert and his band of often questionable allies to win through or face destruction of his kingdom and everything he holds dear.

Young adult action / adventure fantasy

Captive in Terror Orchard

Book 1 of the _Terror Orchard series_

To the authorities, Billy Conner is just a rebellious and defiant juvenile delinquent. To his foster parents, he's a pawn in a fiendish drug plot. He's much more than anyone realizes, though – he'd better be, or the consequences will be unspeakable. Assisted by unlikely allies, one of them literally "dug up" from the orange orchard, Billy struggles for his freedom and for the lives of countless other potential victims.

light horror / action adventure

The Bulb People

Sequel to _Captive in Terror Orchard_

Book 2 of the _Terror Orchard series_

What's going on in the awful little town of Bridgestock? Why did the English teacher's husband race his truck down the streets screaming his head off, and why are people vanishing? Of course, only nasty types have disappeared so far, but that could change at any time.

Ryan Keppen, a 13-year-old newcomer, must tackle these mysteries, along with the issue of his "happy blended family" which he desperately wants to disappear as well. Maybe everything is related, and one problem can help solve another.

light horror / action adventure / humor

Disaster Productions

Matt's struggle to win media fame by his 14th birthday leads to escalating disasters. Matt knows that he is too much of an impractical dreamer achieve this goal on his own. He needs help from a smart collaborator. Enter manipulative genius and borderline frenemy Stephan "Duals" Chrono.

The resulting power struggles and unexpected consequences drive the story. Throughout the chaos, Matt develops the focus and leadership skills necessary for true success and, incidentally, does become famous in a totally unpredictable way.

humor / satire

Raptor Aces

The terrifying Zone of Destruction – ZOD, the absence of God. It has taken over the Raptor Aces, an elite Youth League air squadron.

Its leader, Dytran is the cream of his totalitarian country. His world unravels when a poor decision goes horribly wrong, resulting in death and destruction. He grabs at a chance to volunteer for support aviation duty in the war. At the front, he and his comrades are swept up in violence and revenge until escape seems beyond reach.

New Adult / Action-Adventure / War

A Hurricane in Your Suitcase

Brett's constant lying is getting him into serious trouble. Can big brother Joe stop admiring himself long enough to help turn things around? A strange mixture of cautionary tales leads to a showdown with the Giant Hill.

Children's humor / satire

The Daring Rooftop Rescue

"Coming up in the world" can bring unexpected problems as Johnny Badger learns the hard way. Despite his new-found wealth, Johnny is no match for the complicated political situation in Forest Towne. His own bumbling arrogance adds to his woes.

Children's humor / satire

TIME BEFORE COLOR TV SERIES

Follow the adventures of Amanda Searles and her friends as they make astonishing discoveries, invent new stuff, and generally save the world. Based in 1950's USA, they branch out into strange realms of the wider universe to set things right. It's all in a day's work.

Middle grade – Young Adult humor / adventure / fantasy

How Raspberry Jam got Invented

Book 1 of the _Time before Color TV series_

The last summer picnic turns into an astonishing disaster! Melissa's snotty arrogance involves the friends in a situation they may not survive, but maybe they will.

Middle grade humor / adventure / fantasy

The First Ring Rainbow

Book 2 of the _Time before Color TV series_

1950's cold war tension at it's scariest. Anything can happen during the Atomic Summer. Amanda struggles to deal with the era's sexist restraints, her fugitive Russian communist grandparents, and the appearance of a bizarre creature at Secret Pond. Somehow, everything ties together.

Middle grade humor / adventure / fantasy

The Great Flying Adventure

Book 4 of the _Time before Color TV series_

Amanda and Quentin fly to an alien universe where Quentin competes in a brutal sports tournament to determine the fate of the Earth and of human civilization. Amanda falls for the enemy team captain, and things become terribly complicated.

Tween humor / adventure / fantasy

Return of Mr. Badpenny

Book 5 of the _Time before Color TV series_

Tommy gets more than he expected from a mysterious two-headed coin. The power it gives him goes rapidly to his own head, setting him on a course to moral decay. Solution? Hand it off to Melissa, who also goes off the rails with her new found power. Eventually, they team up to battle the danger.

Tween humor / adventure / fantasy
