The Great Brain Robbery, page 4
With a dreadful squeaking of plastic, the king settled himself into the chair.
“Ready!” Wilmot reappeared at her side, now dressed in his Postmaster’s uniform. It was very much like her own but much older, more ornate, and several sizes too big. He peered over the collar as though he had taken cover behind it. He was still holding the tray of pies.
“You’re not bringing that, are you?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Technically, my shift doesn’t finish for another hour. This way, I can do both jobs at once.”
“Fine,” she said. “But hurry up. The others are almost there.” Taking each other by the hand, they dived into the crowd, emerging a moment later just behind Ursel, Stonker, and Fletch as they made their way up onto the stage.
“Ah, there you are, Postmaster,” said Stonker, glancing over his shoulder. “I thought we’d lost you.”
“I’m here all right, Mr. Stonker,” said Wilmot. “Don’t Ask pie?”
Stonker looked at him askance. “Maybe later.”
The entourage took their seats along the back of the stage, and Wilmot exchanged an excited smile with his mother as he and the rest of the crew took up positions beside the throne: Ursel and Stonker on the king’s right, and Wilmot and Suzy on his left. Suzy smiled and nodded to Gertrude as well, but got a hard stare in return. She swallowed her embarrassment and turned away. She couldn’t blame Gertrude for being angry with her—Wilmot had put his own life at risk to protect Suzy on their last adventure, and for a while, they had all been convinced that he had died in the attempt. It looked as though Gertrude wasn’t quite ready to forgive her yet.
“Who are these people, Grotnip?” said the king in a voice that was surprisingly deep and resonant for his size. He regarded the crew with bemusement.
The courtier bowed again, his nose scraping the stage. “The crew of the Impossible Postal Express, Your Majesty. The reception is in their honor, if you recall. You’re inaugurating their new train in preparation for its first delivery.”
“Am I?” The king seemed genuinely amazed. “I thought I was opening something. I’m usually opening something.” He looked up at the sphere. “Does this place need opening?”
“Grinding Halt has been open for two hundred years already, Your Majesty.”
The king took this information on board. “So, no giant scissors required.”
“None, Your Majesty.”
“Pity,” he said. “I always enjoy the giant scissors. I wonder who makes them.”
“Giants, Your Majesty. Now if you would care to concentrate on the matter at hand…”
“Grotters?”
For the briefest of seconds, Suzy saw the corner of Grotnip’s mouth twitch and his nostrils flare. But when he spoke again, he was as calm as ever. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
“I think I’m developing a starboard list.”
Sure enough, the king was slowly sinking into the depths of the seat, and Suzy could hear the slow hiss of escaping air. “Get pumping, man!”
Grotnip snatched up the bicycle pump, which was still attached to the valve on the side of the throne, and recommenced pumping.
The crowd waited in respectful silence, while Suzy watched the two of them in dismay. Am I the only one who thinks this is weird? she wondered.
Before she could pursue the thought any further, Platform 100 started to tremble underfoot. The sensation ran up Suzy’s body, making her soles tingle. The crowd must have felt it, too, as a little wave of excited chatter broke out. “What was that?” Suzy asked. Wilmot pointed at the glass wall of the sphere. It was moving. Or rather, the level on which they were standing was moving—rotating clockwise until the end of Platform 100 lined up with an opening in the dome. A banner reading BON VOYAGE! had been hung above it. With a screech and a clank, the rotation stopped.
“Your Majesty,” said Grotnip, panting with the effort of keeping the throne inflated. “Everything is ready, and the Express is scheduled to leave in just a few minutes. You may start the inauguration.” He wiped his brow with his sleeve. “And perhaps you’d prefer to stand?”
Suzy felt the hairs on her arms rise at his words. She had spent weeks imagining what her first official delivery as a postie was going to be like—the places she would see, the people she would meet—and now here she was, just moments away from it all.
“All right, Grotters,” said the king. “Just tell me what these good people want to hear, and I’ll say it.”
Grotnip gave an exasperated gasp. “It’s just as we rehearsed it, Your Majesty. You simply have to congratulate the crew on their bravery and continued service, followed by the words ‘We bestow our royal blessing on this fine troll train.’ Then the Express will be unveiled and your part in this evening’s proceedings will be over.”
“And then can I get out there and meet people?” said the king. “I don’t want to keep my fans waiting.”
“If you so wish, Your Majesty,” said Grotnip, who was starting to sound rather short of breath. “But those words are very important. ‘We bestow our royal blessing on this fine troll train.’ The inauguration won’t be complete without it. It’s tradition.”
“Blessing … Train … Adoring crowds,” said the king. “No problem.”
He sprang out of the throne and strode to the front of the stage, while Grotnip discarded the pump with obvious relief.
“Good evening, Trollville!” said the king, stretching his arms wide as though he could embrace them all. “Are you having a good time?”
He got a smattering of polite nods and murmurs in response.
“Of course you are!” he declared. “And we’re going to have such a great evening together, but first we’ve got to launch this train. So let’s get it out on the rails and then get on with the party!”
There was a bigger, more heartfelt round of applause in response to this.
Suzy’s excitement was building to such an intensity that she could feel her whole body shaking. She balled her hands into fists, but it didn’t help. She was so focused on thoughts of what might be to come that she barely even noticed people in the audience shaking as well and swaying on their feet. A few of them turned to each other with worried expressions.
But then the king started swaying, too, and Suzy was suddenly trembling so badly she had to steady herself against Wilmot. Because she wasn’t trembling at all, she realized—Grinding Halt was.
“We bestow our royal blessing—” the king began, but then Platform 100 gave a ferocious jolt and he was thrown to the floor, along with half the audience.
The stage bucked like a mule beneath Suzy, throwing her off her feet. She landed hard and reached for something to hold on to as the floor shuddered beneath her. She found Wilmot’s hand and held it fast.
Tables overturned. Glasses shattered. People screamed.
“What’s happening?” shouted Wilmot as his Don’t Ask pies scattered across the stage.
Suzy tried to answer but couldn’t make herself heard over the rumbling growl that now filled the air. It pulsed in time with the tremors that ran through the floor, and made her teeth rattle. She cupped her free hand to her mouth and bellowed, “Earthquake!”
4
AFTERSHOCK
Suzy tightened her grip on Wilmot’s hand as the juddering floor threatened to pull them both in opposite directions. She clenched her teeth to stop them from rattling together. All she could hear was the groaning of strained metal and the screams of the crowd as Platform 100 tilted and yawed like a ship in rough seas.
“Guards!” Grotnip shouted over the turmoil. “Look to the king! Women and children last! Get His Majesty to safety!”
The guards did their best, but couldn’t keep their feet and were sent flailing off the stage. Suzy felt her hold on Wilmot slipping and cried out in panic. Then she was smothered by a flurry of brown fur as Ursel rolled over her, and she found herself held tight in a bear hug, along with Stonker, Fletch, and Wilmot.
“Well done, that bear!” said Stonker.
Outside the protective circle of Ursel’s arms, the earthquake reached a roaring crescendo. The glass panels overhead cracked with a noise like thunder. Then, in an instant, it was over.
Silence fell, broken here and there by the tinkle of falling glass.
Ursel released her hold, and Suzy rolled free.
“Is everyone all right?” she said. The rest of the crew climbed unsteadily to their feet.
“All shipshape here,” replied Stonker, although the ends of his mustache were badly frayed.
“Grunk,” confirmed Ursel, dusting herself down.
“Same here,” said Wilmot, retrieving his cap from the floor. He joined Suzy as she looked out across Platform 100. People were picking themselves up, nursing bruises and scrapes, but none of them appeared to be seriously hurt. She was relieved to see Frederick, his suit now slightly crumpled, pushing his way through the crowd toward them with the Old Guard in tow.
“Wow!” he said, jumping up onto the stage. “That scared the life out of me! I didn’t know Trollville was in an earthquake zone.”
“It isn’t!” said Wilmot, looking more worried than Suzy had at first realized. “There’s never been an earthquake in Trollville before. Ever!”
She found his concern contagious. She had never been caught up in an earthquake before, either, and now that the immediate danger had passed, she could feel the sense of shock setting in. A chill stole through her body, and she hugged herself to make it stop.
Gertrude hurried over and conducted a quick but thorough inspection of first Wilmot and then the Old Guard. “Are any of you hurt?” she asked.
“It’ll take more than a shaky floor to see any of us off,” said Mr. Trellis. “It’s a bit like that time I was caught in a landslide in the Whispering Mountains. I’d been delivering a postcard to the grand vizier when—”
Before he could continue, there was a roar of rockets, and the king rose above the stage on his jet pack. His wig had slipped and now stuck out sideways.
“I’m getting out of here!” he shouted. “Everyone follow me to safety!” Grotnip and the guards raced toward him, but he hovered just above arm’s reach.
“We can’t follow you, Your Majesty,” said Grotnip, trying to jump and grab the king’s boots. “Now please come back down and let’s all leave the building in a sensible fashion.”
His words were enough to put Suzy’s shock on hold. “Wait,” she said. “What about the Express?”
“What about it?” said Grotnip. “We can’t go ahead with the relaunch now. This is a crisis situation!”
Suzy looked from Grotnip to the shrouded form of the Express. Her thoughts were cloudy and scattered, but she had the terrible feeling that everything she had spent the last two months hoping for was being snatched away. “We can’t stop now,” she said, a second before a huge glass panel fell from the roof and struck one of the neighboring platforms with a mighty crash.
“I’m issuing a royal decree,” the king announced. “Everybody run for your lives!”
“Wait!” tried Suzy, but the crowd had taken the king at his word and was already stampeding toward the exits.
“Make sure everyone gets a signed photo, Grotters!” said the king as he rocketed toward the hole in the station roof. “And remember: no refunds!” He shot out into the open air and zoomed away across the city, leaving a spiraling trail of smoke behind him.
What little color was in Grotnip’s face drained away. “Quickly!” he said to the guards. “Contact the palace. Call the police. Organize a search. We have to get him back!”
He and the guards joined the undignified rush for the stairs.
“What should we do?” shouted Frederick.
“I’d stay ’ere unless you want to get trampled,” said Fletch, appearing beside them. He spoke with his mouth full and held up a plate heaped with Don’t Ask pies.
It took several minutes for the crowd to disperse, leaving a swath of crushed flowers and overturned tables in its wake. Suzy regarded the devastation sadly. “Now what?” she asked.
“I need to get back to the rest home immediately and make sure nobody’s hurt,” said Gertrude. “Mr. Trellis? Wilmot? With me, please.”
“Oh no!” said Wilmot, leaping to her side. “I hope everyone’s all right.” He turned to the others. “Are you coming?”
“Absolutely,” said Stonker. “The crew of the Express is at your disposal, Mrs. Grunt.”
Fletch tipped the contents of his plate into his pockets. “There’ll be some patchin’ up to do at the rest home, I expect. Best I tag along an’ all.”
“Thank you,” said Gertrude. “We’ll leave immediately.”
The crew and the Old Guard followed her from the stage, although Suzy gave a last, mournful look back at the Express. That’s when she realized that Frederick wasn’t following them. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked.
“Can I?” he asked. “It’s just, I haven’t been invited.” Then, under his breath, he added, “Again.”
“Hrunf,” said Ursel.
“Yes, I wouldn’t recommend staying here, either,” said Stonker. “It’s not safe.”
“And it’s not as if you can get back to the Ivory Tower anytime soon,” said Fletch. “No one’ll be runnin’ trains out of town after that little kerfuffle.”
“You mean I’m stuck here?” said Frederick.
“At least until the engineerin’ teams check the lines are stable.”
“Wait,” said Suzy. “That means I can’t get home, either!”
Fletch shrugged. “But you weren’t plannin’ to head back until tomorrow mornin’ anyway, were you?”
She felt the shock stealing back into her body, making her palms prickle. “But what if it takes longer than that to get the trains running again? I’ve got school tomorrow! My parents have got work. And I just left them there asleep!”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do about it right now,” said Gertrude, who had paused halfway up the steps to the footbridge. “You’re welcome to join us, Frederick, but I must insist that we all get a move on.”
Even from this distance, Suzy could see the concern etched in Gertrude’s face and she felt a pang of remorse. Her friends’ home had just been rocked to its foundations. The rest of the Old Guard might be in danger. Her own concerns seemed trivial in comparison.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of sorrow as she mounted the stairs and left Platform 100, and the Express, behind her.
* * *
Reaching the rest home was not an easy task. Grinding Halt was already swamped with anxious tourists trying to find a way out of the city, and it was all the station staff could do to keep them under control.
“Please listen to me!” shouted a nervous-looking porter from the top of a pile of suitcases. “There’s nothing we can do to help!” His words were met with a chorus of boos and jeers. “All train services have been canceled until further notice. Grinding Halt is closed. Please disperse!”
“Where are we supposed to go?” someone shouted back. The porter had no answer, and the shouting of the crowd grew angrier. The noise and the press of bodies made Suzy feel scared, and she linked hands with Wilmot and Frederick as they struggled down one flight of emergency stairs after another, finally arriving at a row of passenger elevators on the ground-floor concourse. A sign above the doors read UNDERSIDE, but another porter, weary and streaked with dust, was turning people away.
“They’re all out of order because of the quake,” she said. “I’m really sorry. If you’re trying to reach the Underside, you’ll have to take the stairs.” She pointed to a nearby line of trolls that snaked back and forth three times across the full length of the concourse. It wasn’t even moving.
“We’ll never get there at this rate,” said Gertrude. “Are there no buses available?”
“Not from Grinding Halt, ma’am,” said the porter. “Half the signaling network is down. But you might be lucky and find one outside somewhere.”
Gertrude set her mouth in a determined line. “Then that is what we shall do. Are you able to walk a little farther, Mr. Trellis?”
“Don’t worry about me,” said Mr. Trellis. “My kneecaps are made from titanium, remember?” He rapped his cane against his artificial leg, which gave a hollow ringing sound. “They’ll outlast the rest of me.”
They stepped outside Grinding Halt to find the city in chaos. Traffic was at a standstill, as the strange assortment of homemade vehicles that the trolls drove lay abandoned and overturned. Water arced from broken pipelines beneath the roads, and every building Suzy could see was marred with a web of ugly cracks. Trolls stumbled through the wreckage, looking confused and scared.
Suzy could scarcely believe what she was seeing. It’s even worse than I realized, she thought.
“We should try the Underside station on Meteor Street,” said Wilmot. “That’s the closest.”
“Good thinking, Postmaster,” said Stonker. “And stick close together. We don’t want to lose anyone.”
“Agreed,” said Suzy.
They picked their way through the streets, passing a troll police officer striding over the chaos on telescopic stilts, his helmet topped with a flashing blue light.
“Please remain calm,” he called through a megaphone. “The situation is under control.”
“I dunno who he thinks he’s kidding,” muttered Fletch.
They reached the Underside station, where they were met with another lengthy line. It seemed to be moving, however, and they soon discovered that, in addition to the stairs, one of the station’s six elevators was still intact.
It was another half an hour before they finally boarded. To Suzy’s surprise, the elevator had seats, complete with over-the-shoulder harnesses like those on a roller coaster. Ursel was far too large to squeeze into them, and simply had to stand with her forepaws braced against the ceiling. Suzy soon discovered why the harnesses were necessary—when they were all strapped in, the elevator was fired like a cannonball down through the city’s superstructure, and when she finally staggered out into the winding streets of the Underside, she felt as though she’d left her stomach behind.
