lorded over the borderlands.
Lane was in awe. She stepped on a slat of a fence and hoisted herself up to get a closer look at a Tilt-A-Whirl. “All right. This place is pretty rad,” she admitted.
“Kelvin told me about it once,” Darla said. “I always figured it’d be a perfect site for a secret project.”
Lane circled the fence, found the controls to the ride, and gave them a closer look. Chet occupied himself with a taffy machine, knocking away hardened braids of sugar so he could give the arms a spin. Henry kept busy scouting for raccoons, kicking open any door he saw and thrusting his rifle inside. While next to a food cart, Martin stood with Darla. She opened a silver cooler and plunged her hand in. It emerged holding an orange soda.
“When we got in the truck, you said we had three Vaporists and a Spacer,” Martin said to her. “So you’re a Vaporist?”
“Used to be,” Darla said, cracking the soda open. She took a big slug from it and gave Martin a quick nudge to the ribs with her elbow. “I’m on your team now. Your drawings officially converted me into a Spacer.”
She lifted the can in a toast, then took another drink.
“What about Henry? What’s he?” Martin asked.
“He’s an idiot, Martin. But he’s eager, and he’s loyal. He told me once that he thought the Day happened because ofall the bad things he did when he was a kid. Yikes! Right? He can’t help it, though, I guess.”
“I never asked him to be a part of this,” Martin said.
“He would’ve found out eventually,” Darla said. “Spying is his biggest talent.”
“Well, it’s probably best if he stays with you in the truck,” Martin said.
“What’s that supposed to mean? We’re all working together, right?”
“Well …” Martin paused for a moment. He’d thought the distribution of labor would be obvious. “Lane, Chet, and I are going to do the actual building. I figured you, and Henry, could get us the supplies we need. You know, with the truck?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Darla said quickly. “That makes perfect sense.” As if plugging up her mouth to stave off a snide comment, she immediately put the can back to her lips. When she was finished taking a long swig, she presented it to Martin.
“Thank you,” he said. He reached for it, but she yanked it away.
“No way, wild child,” she said with a half laugh, half snarl. “Gonna have to be faster than that if you want to keep up with me.”
With that, she turned and skittered away, joining Chet, who was rummaging around in a wooden shack that bore a sign reading UNCLE SCHMITTY’S SHOOTING GALLERY .
Chet pulled out a plastic toy rifle. He pointed it at Henry, who was prowling in the distance. “Lookie here, Darla,” Chet joked. “It’s me, Henry. I’m gonna win you a panda bear by shootin’ this here fire stick at a Mongoloid.”
Darla giggled guiltily. Martin was too far away to be positive, but he was pretty sure he saw Henry’s lips trembling, as if he was muttering something under his breath.
Impossible Island was the perfect place to build the machine. Not only did it provide an ample amount of hardware in the form of roller coasters and other amusements, it was also far from the prying eyes of Xibalba. Lane, Chet, Darla, and Henry were in agreement that the project was best kept a secret. For whatever their reasons, they believed in Martin’s designs, but they weren’t sure the other kids would be enamored.
“They’ll think they got another Kelvin on their hands,” Chet said. “And we all know how that ended.”
Actually, Martin didn’t know how that ended. The information on the Internet about Kelvin’s exile was limited at best, and kids always changed the subject when asked about it. All he knew was that it had ended badly and that Nigel had been involved. That compelled Martin to keep quiet about his meeting with Nigel as well. There was a good chance that in some minds, Nigel was a lunatic.
So as not to arouse
Lane was in awe. She stepped on a slat of a fence and hoisted herself up to get a closer look at a Tilt-A-Whirl. “All right. This place is pretty rad,” she admitted.
“Kelvin told me about it once,” Darla said. “I always figured it’d be a perfect site for a secret project.”
Lane circled the fence, found the controls to the ride, and gave them a closer look. Chet occupied himself with a taffy machine, knocking away hardened braids of sugar so he could give the arms a spin. Henry kept busy scouting for raccoons, kicking open any door he saw and thrusting his rifle inside. While next to a food cart, Martin stood with Darla. She opened a silver cooler and plunged her hand in. It emerged holding an orange soda.
“When we got in the truck, you said we had three Vaporists and a Spacer,” Martin said to her. “So you’re a Vaporist?”
“Used to be,” Darla said, cracking the soda open. She took a big slug from it and gave Martin a quick nudge to the ribs with her elbow. “I’m on your team now. Your drawings officially converted me into a Spacer.”
She lifted the can in a toast, then took another drink.
“What about Henry? What’s he?” Martin asked.
“He’s an idiot, Martin. But he’s eager, and he’s loyal. He told me once that he thought the Day happened because ofall the bad things he did when he was a kid. Yikes! Right? He can’t help it, though, I guess.”
“I never asked him to be a part of this,” Martin said.
“He would’ve found out eventually,” Darla said. “Spying is his biggest talent.”
“Well, it’s probably best if he stays with you in the truck,” Martin said.
“What’s that supposed to mean? We’re all working together, right?”
“Well …” Martin paused for a moment. He’d thought the distribution of labor would be obvious. “Lane, Chet, and I are going to do the actual building. I figured you, and Henry, could get us the supplies we need. You know, with the truck?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Darla said quickly. “That makes perfect sense.” As if plugging up her mouth to stave off a snide comment, she immediately put the can back to her lips. When she was finished taking a long swig, she presented it to Martin.
“Thank you,” he said. He reached for it, but she yanked it away.
“No way, wild child,” she said with a half laugh, half snarl. “Gonna have to be faster than that if you want to keep up with me.”
With that, she turned and skittered away, joining Chet, who was rummaging around in a wooden shack that bore a sign reading UNCLE SCHMITTY’S SHOOTING GALLERY .
Chet pulled out a plastic toy rifle. He pointed it at Henry, who was prowling in the distance. “Lookie here, Darla,” Chet joked. “It’s me, Henry. I’m gonna win you a panda bear by shootin’ this here fire stick at a Mongoloid.”
Darla giggled guiltily. Martin was too far away to be positive, but he was pretty sure he saw Henry’s lips trembling, as if he was muttering something under his breath.
Impossible Island was the perfect place to build the machine. Not only did it provide an ample amount of hardware in the form of roller coasters and other amusements, it was also far from the prying eyes of Xibalba. Lane, Chet, Darla, and Henry were in agreement that the project was best kept a secret. For whatever their reasons, they believed in Martin’s designs, but they weren’t sure the other kids would be enamored.
“They’ll think they got another Kelvin on their hands,” Chet said. “And we all know how that ended.”
Actually, Martin didn’t know how that ended. The information on the Internet about Kelvin’s exile was limited at best, and kids always changed the subject when asked about it. All he knew was that it had ended badly and that Nigel had been involved. That compelled Martin to keep quiet about his meeting with Nigel as well. There was a good chance that in some minds, Nigel was a lunatic.
So as not to arouse
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