The Last Last-Day-of-Summer Page 16

  Flux’s Time Suck was startled by the flash; it shuffled side to side, knocking down nearby Clock Watchers. Still, Sheed remained on its back with the stunned Mr. Flux and shouted, “Dude, that’s my cousin down there. I’m always picking him over whoever. No matter how big a jerk he is.”

  “Thanks, Sheed,” Otto shouted back. “I think.”

  Cheers erupted from Otto’s army. Otto yelled to Sheed, “Get the camera!” To everyone else, “Charge!”

  Sheed bent over Mr. Flux, snatching at the camera strap. The kick didn’t keep Flux down long. His arm stretched, and he grasped the Time Suck’s tail, yanking himself away from Sheed’s grasp while aiming the camera at him.

  “Oh no you don’t.” TimeStar hurled a mousetrap provided by Archie’s Hardware Store. It cartwheeled end over end, snapping onto Mr. Flux’s shooting hand. He yelped, firing another inadvertent camera flash, catching a few of Otto’s Second Guessers. The short and stout Clock Watchers shouted, “Crud!” in frozen unison.

  Sheed abandoned the camera-grab mission and dived off the Time Suck’s back. He grabbed a thick tuft of fur on the way down, breaking his fall while also causing the beast to honk and buck in pain. Mr. Flux hung on for all his worth.

  “Sorry,” Sheed apologized to the beast. He released the fur, hit the ground in a roll, popped to his feet, and sprinted through the chaotic battle. “Otto!”

  “Sheed!” Otto rushed into the thick of it. Ducking, dodging, hopping over all the little skirmishes that broke out.

  Game Time and Crunch Time engaged in a particularly sweaty and determined fencing match, their improvised swords—​a fireplace poker and a snow shovel handle—​whizzing and clanking. Dr. Medina’s entire menagerie of animals—​dogs, cats, snakes, a wild-eyed goat, even a quartet of guinea pigs—​launched coordinated attacks at her prompting. The veterinarian barked, and the dogs fell on a squadron of Business Hours, chewing through their briefcases and shiny leather shoes. Switching to meows, she directed the cats in a stealthy flanking attack. The goat battered a Clock Watcher that made a swiping grab at Otto. The guinea pigs used Otto’s head as a springboard, flinging themselves at a large Time Suck’s eye.

  Sheed caught glimpses of his cousin through the melee and did what he could to assist other combatants as he attempted to reunite with Otto. Some well-timed tripping and shoving helped sway a couple of small fights. The battle raged in every direction, though.

  As part of a two-pronged attack, P.M. flashed around various assailants at high speed, leaving mirrors confiscated from Missus Nedraw’s stuck in midair. Having been instructed by Otto, the closest human executed the second part of the attack by unfreezing a mirror so it shattered on the ground, unleashing the groping monster prisoner inside, which attacked Flux’s troops without mercy.

  Leen Ellison made her way to the top of the founder’s statue, where she flung what looked like small Frisbees from her tool belt. The discs sprouted thin, wiry legs like spiders and skittered into the crowd, where they affixed themselves to Mr. Flux’s troops, delivering electrical charges that sent them yelping up and out of the fray.

  Anna and Mr. Archie got in the act, swinging a rake and a length of plastic pipe respectively, swatting Clock Watchers like giant bugs.

  And Father Time! Oh, Father Time . . . danced through the battle with a wooden cane he twirled like a ninja’s staff. He jabbed and parried and thrust, cutting a path any way he wished.

  At every position, anywhere on the Fry Town Square battlefield, the brigade Otto had assembled fought valiantly.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Mr. Flux had the numbers. The camera. No longer stunned by Sheed’s betrayal, enraged, screaming, he aimed the lens into the crowd and fired. Lightning-bright flashes doused swaths of combatants, freezing them mid-punch, mid-kick, mid-retreat. It didn’t matter if they were his troops, or Otto’s. His wrath had no targets, just release.

  Sheed kept pushing his way to Otto, seeing the residual camera flashes from the corner of his eye like quiet lightning in a distant cloud.

  Leen spotted him from her statue perch, took a moment to cutesy wave at him, then cupped a hand to her mouth. “Wiki! A.M.! Now!”

  In a blur, Wiki Ellison appeared next to her sister, dropped off by the speedster Golden Hour, who’d already zoomed away. Sheed stopped at the statue base and watched the sisters bicker as usual.

  Leen said, “Where is it? You didn’t hurt it, did you?”

  “It’s been chasing me all over town,” Wiki snapped. “It’s coming. Have a little faith.”

  Sheed yelled up, “Hey, what’s the plan?”

  Wiki said, “Get to Otto. We’re good here.”

  More flashes popped, more fighters on both sides were frozen and out of the fight. If they didn’t do something about Flux soon . . .

  “Go!” Wiki insisted. “He needs you!”

  Sheed left the girls, kept pushing through the crowd. The ground vibrated in mini earthquakes. What was happening?

  Otto leapt over a mirror tentacle and one of Dr. Medina’s snakes as they slinked toward a terrified Flux fighter, and wrapped his arms around a startled Sheed.

  “You’re okay,” Otto said, soaking Sheed’s suit coat with sloppy tears.

  Sheed hugged back. “Why are you crying? I thought legends didn’t do that.”

  “I’m amending our rules.”

  The ground shook more powerfully, knocking the boys off balance.

  Sheed said, “I don’t know if we’re okay yet. What is that?”

  “Maneuver #74.”

  Sheed shook his head. “A new maneuver?”

  Otto grinned. “Yep. ‘Bring in the robot.’”

  Over his shoulder Sheed spotted the chrome dome and glowing red eyes of Leen’s robot lumbering into the fight. Its head rotated as it locked on to a waving Wiki and Leen at the founder’s statue. “Over here,” they shouted.

  Mr. Flux’s flashes were rapid-fire by then, with photos of frozen fighters spooling from the camera and falling to his feet like large, square confetti. So preoccupied with his power, he didn’t notice Wiki leaping from the statue, weaving through the remaining fighters, and positioning herself so the robot was on a direct course for her, with Mr. Flux between her and the metal giant.

  “Hey, Flux Face,” Wiki yelled.

  That snatched his attention. He aimed the camera at her.

  Wiki pointed over his shoulder. “You got bigger problems, buddy!”

  A long shadow fell over Mr. Flux. He turned to find the robot looming over him, too close to freeze.

  Leen pointed at Mr. Flux, yelled, “Robot! He’s ‘it’ now. Tag him.”

  Mr. Flux said, “Oh. Oh no!”

  One bolt-studded metal hand smacked Mr. Flux, sending him airborne in an odd blur of cartwheeling motion. He landed in a pile about twenty feet away from the boys, the camera knocked from his grip.

  Dazed, he tried to push himself to his feet, reaching for the camera. The robot’s rusty metal palm fell on him like a swatter falling on a fly. Cracks webbed from the asphalt beneath Mr. Flux. The robot’s hand rose, fell again. And again. Tag-tag-tag!

  Mr. Flux squawked, “Ow, ow, ow,” with each slap, as he flattened into a Flux pancake.

  The camera remained on the ground near his hand, though, as no one seemed willing to get close while the robot delivered its awesome smackdown.

  The girls sprinted to Otto and Sheed. Wiki said, “Is that enough?”

  A golden blur of light, almost too fast to see, rushed between Otto and the camera. Otto said, “Now it is.”

  Wiki gave her sister a nod, and Leen yelled, “Robot! We’re ‘it’ again, me and Wiki.”

  Its red eyes leveled on them.

  “We’re going to lead it away. It’s your show now,” Wiki told Otto on the run. She shouted over her shoulder, “Don’t mess it up.”

  Leen said, “Bye, Sheed.”

  The Epic Ellison Girls exited the battle, their rogue robot in pursuit, their part of the maneuver c
omplete.

  The rest is on us, Otto thought. “Come on. Time to fix the day.” He whistled, calling over the friendly Time Suck. Though not fast enough.

  The recovering Mr. Flux’s limbs and torso retracted quickly from his smooshed, flapjack form to something resembling a human. He whipped his stretchy arm toward his lost camera, reclaiming it. “Octavius and Rasheed, I think you two need a break.”

  He aimed, fired.

  The flash blinded the world.

  37

  Exit, Stage Left

  TimeStar leapt between Mr. Flux and the boys at the last possible second, taking the full brunt of the flash.

  Now immobilized, he spoke through barely parted lips, “You better make this worth it. Go, guys.”

  So they did.

  Using already-frozen combatants as cover, the boys rushed to their Time Suck and shimmied up its side. Otto gently coaxed the beast into motion, while Sheed yelled at Mr. Flux, “If you want us, come get us.”

  Whipping his bendy limbs about, Mr. Flux mounted the nearest Time Suck, digging his heels into its flank, forcing it into a run while he attempted another shot. The camera flashed but missed as Otto and Sheed’s Time Suck made a sharp right and darted from Town Square.

  Mr. Flux’s Time Suck bucked after them like a marshal chasing stagecoach robbers in the old black-and-white Westerns Grandma liked. From Town Square to Main Street, from Main Street past the park, past the park toward that steep hill leading to Fry High. Otto and Sheed hugged tightly to their Time Suck’s fur as it dipped and dodged Mr. Flux’s repeated attempts to freeze them in their tracks.

  Bounding up the hill to Fry High, the creature barreled through the hole it created earlier, following its original course to the library. Otto tugged lightly on the fur he gripped, turning it in a different direction. “Not this time, girl.” He guessed it was a girl.

  In the quiet halls, Mr. Flux’s angry shouting carried. “Is this another desperate ploy for some way to defeat me? More yearbooks? So futile.”

  Otto and Sheed’s Time Suck galloped full speed toward a set of double doors.

  “Hang on!” Sheed said, pressing his face into soft fur.

  Otto ducked his head an instant before impact.

  The Time Suck tore through the wall, destroying the doors and the sign above it in the process. Despite the jarring impact, Otto and Sheed were fine. They climbed from the beast, weaved through time-frozen debris, then sprinted to the front of the room.

  Sheed craned his neck, taking in the vast space. “What now? Hide?”

  “No.” Otto kept them in the open, onstage, the center of attention. As was this room’s intended purpose.

  “But he’s—”

  Coming. Mr. Flux—​not to be outdone—​forced his beast through a different section of wall, creating more destruction. He didn’t seem to notice where he’d been driving his Time Suck until this very moment. Otto had counted on this.

  The sign over the door, the one they destroyed with their crashing entrance, had said AUDITORIUM.

  “Come on,” Otto said, climbing up onto the stage.

  “He can see us.”

  “I know.”

  Sheed’s natural inclination to fight his cousin buzzed stronger than ever. Yet he followed because that’s what they did. That was all there was to it. Through arguments, through temptation to rule beside Mr. Flux. So if they got frozen for all of time on that stage, at least they’d be together.

  Mr. Flux halted his Time Suck, took in his surroundings. “Oh, I see.”

  He leapt from the beast’s back, strolled coolly down the aisle between the many rows of seats meant for student assemblies and choir concerts. And plays.

  Mr. Flux’s smile was genuine. “You’re trying to appeal to some sort of nostalgia, aren’t you? I was created in this room. Perhaps you can convince me that I should do things differently. That I can be a better person.”

  He made a flying leap, landing on the stage mere yards from Otto and Sheed. “You boys are sweet, courageous champions of your county. The lazy, undriven residents don’t deserve you. Which is perfect, because they won’t have you much longer.”

  He raised the camera, aimed. “It’s a shame we couldn’t work together. You two will make lovely monuments to my triumph, though. Are you ready?”

  Sheed cut his eyes to Otto, waiting for some signal. Another maneuver.

  Otto only said, “Whenever you are.”

  “Such brave boys.” Mr. Flux pressed the shutter button, and a sun-bright flash obliterated shadows for a microsecond.

  Then all was still.

  Otto and Sheed remained as statues. Mr. Flux drew closer, admiring his latest trophies. “I know you can hear me, and I understand if you don’t want to respond, though I am curious. What did you really hope to accomplish here? All you did was prolong my inevitable victory.”

  “Inevitable is a very strong word. Don’t you think, Sheed?”

  “Sure do, Otto.”

  The boys moved.

  Effortlessly.

  Unfrozen.

  Panicked, Mr. Flux leapt backwards. He aimed the camera, fired another flash. The boys winced at the bright light, but approached Mr. Flux slowly, still unfrozen.

  “How?” Mr. Flux examined the camera, then fired again. And again. And again.

  Sheed had the same question, but knew his cousin well enough to get that they’d all have answers soon enough.

  Otto shouted, “Come in, everyone.”

  Two blurs zipped into the auditorium. A.M. and P.M., carrying TimeStar and Petey. The Golden Hours placed the two men on their feet, and they climbed onto the stage beside Otto and Sheed. Petey handed a familiar device to Otto.

  The real camera.

  A bug-eyed Mr. Flux examined his own device, perplexed.

  Otto explained. “Wiki and Leen’s robot was the key. It was big enough to distract you, and strong enough to knock you around while my fast friends swapped cameras. They’ve been hanging on to the real one”—​Otto held it high—​“ever since.”

  “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Well—” Mr. Flux lunged away, attempting to exit stage left.

  Otto’s nimble fingers handled the camera with ease, aiming and snapping a photo. The flash left Mr. Flux stuck in his sprinter’s pose, arms at runner’s angles, one knee high. The accompanying photo spilled from the camera into Sheed’s waiting hand.

  Otto said, “All the shots you took after the switch produced no pictures. It’s the one thing Petey couldn’t get the replica camera to do. Thank goodness you were too mad to notice. We were counting on that.”

  “Why?” Mr. Flux spat from unmoving lips. “So you could convince me to unfreeze your world and let all of you unmotivated humans continue wasting time and opportunities? Well, you’re going to be disappointed. I don’t care that I’m frozen, it’s not so different from all the years I spent stuck watching you people squander all your time! I know what happens if this freeze isn’t undone. If I stay stuck, Fry stays stuck. I still win.”

  Now, that was alarming. Mr. Flux had a point, and Sheed didn’t know what to do about it. He flicked his eyes to Otto, whose face was pinched with concern, but not dire concern. More like tricky maneuver concern.

  “What now?” Sheed said.

  TimeStar held his time travel device in his palm, triggered it with his thumb. A pair of blue lasers shot from the device, tracing a tall, wide rectangle—​a door—​in thin air.

  “Maneuver #75,” Otto said. “We’re going back in time.”

  38

  Maneuver #75

  With the blazing blue door open, Otto asked Petey, “Are you ready?”

  Frowning, Petey nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

  Otto motioned to A.M. and P.M. The Golden Hours grabbed frozen Mr. Flux.

  “Get your hands off me!” Mr. Flux protested.

  A.M. said, “This is a really good look for you, darling.”

  “Trust us,” said P.M. “We’re experts.” />
  They pushed him through the time door.

  Petey clenched his fist and ran through before he could chicken out.

  TimeStar said, “You two first.”

  Otto linked arms with Sheed. Sheed said, “This seems risky.”

  There was hesitance in Otto. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Sheed had been around him too long. When Otto craned his neck and locked eyes with TimeStar, there was something weird there. Something scary. What? Sheed didn’t know.

  Otto faced Sheed. “It’s only risky when we don’t have each other’s back. Come on.”

  Together, they leapt into the light.

  There was a whooshing sensation. Sheed’s stomach dropped, like they were in an elevator going down too fast. When the sensation became so powerful that Sheed thought he might be sick, it stopped and they were on the stage again. Did it not work?

  “Hey!” some strange new voice shouted. “What are you doing on my stage? You’re interrupting my rehearsal.”

  They weren’t alone in a time-frozen auditorium like they’d been a moment ago. No, all around them Sheed saw motion. Flowing dresses and veils. Boys primping in badly fitted suits like his own. A young Donny O’Doyle as Abraham Lincoln, his glued-on beard peeling at the sideburns, while he clutched a young Petey Thunkle by his paint-stained overalls. There was a slip of paper in Donny’s hand—​the letter inviting young Petey to the Turing Unified Research and Development Institute. The letter that started all their problems.

  Old Petey Thunkle, who had spent the last decade downing himself, doubting himself, discouraging himself, disapproving himself, and finding some way, every day, to consider himself disqualified from any good that might come from his smarts, did not see the letter as the problem. He’d made that clear to Otto before they set out on this adventure. Otto had come up with the plan to make this right. Maneuver #75 was Petey’s and Petey’s alone.

  Everyone else was backup.

  “What is this?” said frozen Mr. Flux, unable to intervene.

  “This is you not winning,” Otto whispered near his ear. Then, loudly, “Go for it, Petey.”