A Babysitter's Guide to Monster Hunting #3 Page 8

  Mama Vee looked at me and winked.

  “All yours, kiddo,” she said.

  I took a deep breath. I held that breath. It lifted me up.

  Speak your heart, Kelly.

  “I love kids, and I want to help things grow, and I know, I know—it sounds supercheesy and everyone says this—but I really want to make the world a better place,” I said. “The head of the Boogeypeople is bringing more kids to Sunshine Island for a reason. The Wolf is on the prowl again. I know it seems like Kevin LeRue and the other mutants on that island are a lost cause, and maybe they are the bad kids, but they’re still kids. And they need our help,” I insisted. “The parents of those kids deserve to see their children again.”

  “All those in favor of landing on Sunshine Island and causing the next great monster war, say aye,” Pressbury said calmly.

  A few sitters rang their bells and voted for me, including Mama Vee. I gave them each a thankful nod. But the vast majority of the council held silent.

  “Opposed?” sang Pressbury.

  A resounding “nay” shook the lecture hall.

  “The council has spoken. Rejected.”

  She stomped her cane on the ground.

  The council stomped their feet along with her. I looked at Mama Vee. She hung her head.

  “Why did you bring me here?” I asked, glaring at Pressbury. “Was it to humiliate me?”

  She reached out a bony finger and pressed it to my heart. “You want to make the world a better place? So do we.”

  Elder Pressbury reached down. Snap. Twist. Thunk.

  She placed her prosthetic limb onto the podium. We all stared at it for, like, a whole minute.

  “But you see, my dear,” Pressbury said, nodding at her rubber leg, “that is what happens when you go up against the Big Bad Wolf.”

  18

  After a loud but uneventful flight home in the flying Pepsi can, Mama Vee dropped me and my parents off at our house.

  “I’ll notify you as soon as I hear anything from Liz or the Maine chapter,” she said. “Good night, Fergusons. You guys rock.”

  “You spoke well, honey,” my mom said. “I was proud of you.”

  “Life just gets more and more bizarre,” my dad said with a yawn.

  “Straight to bed,” my mom said. “Tomorrow you’re doing double-duty chores to make up for what you didn’t do today.”

  I gave her a long hug and walked to my room.

  I listened for the sound of my father’s snore before I crept down the hall to the desk where the family computer awaited.

  Don’t check Facebook. Don’t check Facebook.

  I checked Facebook.

  FAILURE 4 LIFE!

  Spineless AND hideous.

  DELETE UR LIFE.

  I growled and was about to log off when . . .

  Ding!

  A message from Liz! My heart jumped.

  A series of pictures.

  The first picture was murky and blurry. I could make out a glowing sign: “BELL LABS.”

  Berna was right! Bell Labs was on the way to Sunshine Island!

  I clicked on Liz’s second picture. There were colorful lights twinkling on the horizon.

  Looks like they’re approaching the island.

  The third picture was of hideous goblin faces scowling into the camera.

  They got caught!

  Like a tiny candle flickering inside of me. They were still alive. But they definitely needed a hand.

  I Google Mapped Sunshine Island.

  It was so small. How could it possibly be home to some of the world’s most deadly monsters?

  I unfolded the map Kevin drew of the island and held it up to the screen. They were a squiggly match.

  I plugged my headphones into the family computer and Skyped Berna. She connected me to Cassie, Curtis, and Victor.

  “We need to mobilize,” I said.

  “I can’t let you go alone,” said Berna. “You’re my date to the dance.”

  “¿Qué?” Victor asked.

  “I’m going to the dance with Berna, Victor,” I said.

  “Unless you have anything you’d like to say?” Berna asked.

  Victor shook his head.

  “Did you call us to talk about the dance or to talk about starting Wolf War Three?” Curtis said.

  “We need to act and we need to act now,” I said. “Before it’s too late.”

  “It’sh againsht the rulesh, and you don’t have a boat or a shmall army of babyshittersh,” Cassie said.

  “We are a small army of babysitters,” said Curtis. His chipped front tooth poked out of his big, goofy smile.

  “Thanks, Curtis,” I said. “But I don’t want to put anyone’s life at risk.”

  “Liz and Kevin are my friends too,” said Curtis.

  “My parentsh will never let me go,” said Cassie.

  “Mine either,” said Victor. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t go. We’re the only ones who can do something and so we should. If that means my family is mad at me, let them be mad. I have seen many children taken from their families and I could not do anything. Now I can.”

  “Dude knows how to make a speech,” Curtis said.

  “Shay you do run away from home, break the Tenth Law, and decide to go to thish island. How are you going to get there, geniush?” Cassie asked.

  I chewed my headphone cord.

  “I’ve been thinking about this. From here to the island, it’s a four-hour boat ride. No ferries go there, obviously. I was thinking we could charter a boat. I’ve been saving up money for summer camp. But maybe I could use it to like hire some kind of ship to take us to the island?”

  “We could say we’re studying to be fishermen,” Curtis said. “My cousin got his GED in fishery. When he gets out of prison, he’s gonna catch big tuna.”

  “No way,” Berna said. “I don’t want to put some poor, innocent boat rental person in danger.”

  “Right,” I said, picking a piece of headphone cord off my tongue. “We’ll find a boat.”

  “Are you guysh hearing yourshelvesh?” Cassie spat. “The council voted no. That’sh it. If you break the rulesh, you’ll be kicked out of the order.”

  “We’ll go and get Liz and Kevin back and see what kind of operation we’re dealing with,” I said.

  “If we go to Sunshine Island, we need to be prepared,” said Berna.

  Curtis snapped his fingers in excitement. “My dad built this zombie apocalypse bunker in the backyard. Just in case. I’ve got tons of camping equipment. We have all the gear. Tents. Canteens. Sleeping bags.”

  “Great! It’ll be just like a camping trip. But with defensive tactical gear and assorted monster hunting equipment,” I said. “And I’ll bring the snacks. I’m great at snacks.”

  “I’m bringing my crossbow,” Curtis said.

  “We still need a way to the island,” Berna said.

  Victor cleared his throat. He chewed his thumbnail. “My uncle has a fishing boat.”

  My heart lifted. “You do? He does?”

  “One time, we were caught in a terrible hurricane,” Victor added. “I helped my family pilot back to shore.”

  I cocked my head. “Really? You never told me that.”

  “You never asked,” he said.

  “High five for my man, Victor!” Curtis shouted. “Hook it up!”

  Berna clacked away. “Local weather report says calm seas and low winds are expected tomorrow morning.”

  “Guysh. Are we really going to do this? Please shay no,” said Cassie.

  “If we don’t, who will?” I asked.

  Dear Mom and Dad

  Good morning!

  Or good afternoon or good evening, depending on when you figure out that I set up a dummy in my room to make you think I was still at home. Surprise! I thought it was a pretty good dummy, given my limited resources.

  Anyhoo. If you’ve found this letter, let me start off by saying I’m sorry for faking you out with the dummy and sneak
ing out of the house without telling you. I had to go on a short but important “field trip.” I will be careful and do my best to stay out of harm’s way. If all goes well, we should be home sometime tomorrow. I’m hoping it will be sooner, but I don’t want to get your expectations up. Try not to worry. In fact, I hope you have no idea I’m even gone because I know just how much trouble I will be in when I get back.

  And, Mom, even though you might be supermad right now, please don’t start smoking. Try not to worry. Babysitters are trained for this kind of thing.

  Your loving daughter,

  Kelly

  19

  Victor’s uncle’s boat whooshed over the glassy water. The sun was strong. It felt good and warm with the cold ocean wind. My hair was doing a wild dance until Victor threw me a green baseball hat from inside the cabin. I handed everyone a juice box and a snack, then I sat back with Berna. We pulled on our sunglasses, checked the map, and watched the shoreline drift by while we munched potato chips.

  Cassie stood on the bow of the ship and tried to get Curtis to impersonate that scene from Titanic with her, but Curtis was not having it. Victor smiled at me from the captain’s wheel.

  For a moment we were kids playing hooky to go fishing. I blasted a reggae song from my phone and took a few selfies with the gang.

  “I can’t believe you, uh, borrowed your uncle’s boat,” I said to Victor.

  “My parents are right. You are a bad influence,” he joked.

  “We should have told Mama Vee,” Berna said quietly to me.

  “I left her a note, too,” I said.

  “I mean, she should be here. With us,” Berna said.

  I shook my head. “By the time we convinced Vee to come, Liz would have been turned into a monster,” I insisted.

  Berna narrowed her eyes. I could tell she disagreed with me but it was too late. We were on our way.

  “Can we, gurp, shlow d-d-down, pleashe?” Cassie said.

  Her face had turned yellowish green. She swallowed like she had a funny taste in her mouth.

  “Keep your eyes on the horizon,” Victor called back. “Sometimes helps.”

  Cassie’s glassy eyes locked on to the distant horizon. She was fighting something lurching up inside of her. Curtis tried to help Cassie, but she shoved him away and hurled. Berna and I held Cassie’s head and wiped her mouth. I gave her a sleeve of saltines and a can of Coke.

  “That’sh better,” she said.

  Berna handed out copies of Kevin’s map that she had superimposed over the Google map of Sunshine Island.

  “Pop quiz, babysitters,” Berna said. “Which side of the island are we entering on?”

  I pointed to the right side of the map, at the mine and prison camp. “From the intel Kevin gave us about Sunshine Island, we know kids are kept in a prison right by this mine. Liz and Kevin would most likely be kept there.”

  Berna tapped the corner of the island. “Our best point of entry is here. We keep away from the amusement park and the wild woods, and we get right into the prison. We can get Liz and Kevin and who knows how many out.”

  Three hours later, we were sailing into deeper sea. A haze covered the sky. The waves picked up, but Victor expertly sliced the boat through them. The sun slid behind ragged clouds.

  The temperature dropped. I zipped up my jacket and saw a patch of land with a looming redbrick industrial fortress squatting on it.

  “Bell Labs, you guys!” I said, pointing at the letters on the side of the building. We checked the map and high-fived. We were on the right path.

  Victor checked his GPS. “Sunshine Island is twenty minutes away.”

  “Better gear up,” I said.

  Berna unzipped the saddlebags she brought. Because sitter headquarters was temporarily staying at her house, Berna had access to all the sitter tech the order had sent over to keep us in stock.

  Curtis smeared his face with camouflage makeup and checked his crossbow. Berna spit out her old gum and popped in a fresh piece of Blueberry Burst. She pulled a red scarf over her forehead.

  A cold, damp air fell over the boat.

  “Sunshine Island,” Victor said. “Dead ahead.”

  “Pleashe don’t shay ‘dead,’” Cassie mumbled.

  I peered into the mist, but I couldn’t see any sign of the island. The GPS and the map insisted it was here. Victor steered to the east as we stood on the deck, tensely fixing our eyes into the fog.

  I peered through Berna’s binoculars and saw the peak of a rusty roller coaster rising through the cloud cover.

  Beep. Beep.

  The boat’s radar.

  On the small black screen, digital orange blotches looked like they were coming toward us.

  Beep. Beep.

  “Something’s out there,” Victor whispered.

  We gripped our weapons. The boat sloshed back and forth in the dark gray water.

  The orange blips on the radar trailed closer to the center of the screen. Whatever was coming was ten times the size of our little boat.

  Beep. Beep.

  “It’s here,” Victor said. “Right under us.”

  “Go fashter!” Cassie said.

  “I’m trying to steer away from it. It could be coral,” Victor said. “I don’t want to crash my uncle’s boat.”

  “Or it could be a three-ton sea slug thinking we’re its next meal,” Berna said, looking over the edge.

  “Or a pack of cannibal mermaids,” Curtis said with strange glee, leaning over the railing.

  I peered into the murky water. Something was down there. Something yellow.

  “You guys!” I pointed at the ocean.

  A plastic mustard bottle tangled in a web of trash bags bubbled to the surface.

  I exhaled with relief. Discarded water bottles clunked against the hull of the boat. Empty potato chip bags and burger wrappers undulated across the waves. At first it looked like someone had dumped their garbage overboard, but the junk kept growing. All around us, the ocean was filled with trash.

  Victor stopped the engine. “If this gets caught in the propeller, it’s game over.”

  He passed around oars.

  “We have to paddle through it,” Victor said.

  We sludged quietly through old sneakers and waves of plastic straws.

  “This is crazy,” I said.

  “I did my science report on the Great Pacific garbage patch,” Berna said. “They’re, like, everywhere now.”

  A hillside of cardboard Amazon delivery boxes loomed like an iceberg. A warped blanket of melted Fiji water bottles shimmered in pools of rainbows. The fog we had been seeing was a toxic mist hissing off the mishmash of chemicals in the trash.

  My eyes watered. Berna coughed. Cassie wheezed. The boys gagged.

  “Look!” said Victor.

  Twenty feet away, bobbing half-sunken in the garbage, was a sailboat. I recognized the name: No Worries.

  “That’s the Maine sitters’ boat!” I said. “Hello!”

  The sailboat was tilted, trapped in the muck. A hole had been ripped out of its hull.

  “Where do you think they went?” Cassie asked.

  My oar jerked to a stop, caught in a sinewy tangle of plastic wires and black seaweed. I yanked it. Something yanked back.

  The wiry sludge coiled around the oar and stretched like elastic.

  The boat lurched. Something below knocked into us. We swayed in the sludge.

  The radar screen was completely orange.

  “It’sh under the trash!” cried Cassie.

  “No,” I said. “It is the trash.”

  From A Babysitter’s Guide to Monster Hunting

  NAME: The gyre, trash vortex

  TYPE: Spontaneous sentient evil

  WEIGHT: 50 tons

  LENGTH: A mile

  ORIGIN: Made up of stuff people buy, mixed with seawater—is a dangerous, toxic combination

  LIKES: Swimming, eating more trash, growing more trash. Landfills. The world’s obsession with bottled water
and plastic packaging. Flies. Litterbugs.

  DISLIKES: Neat freaks, recyclers

  WEAKNESSES: “Do Not Litter” signs

  FUN FACT: A horror movie was made about the very first gyre back in the 80s. The film was a huge flop because no one believed they could be real. The movie was also a musical. It has since become a cult classic.

  WARNING: When the garbage patch belches three times in a row, seek solid ground.

  The boat surged out of the water. We slid forward, clinging to each other, and suddenly, we were lifted ten feet high. We screamed as the sea blob tipped the boat into its mushy grip.

  The bow smashed into a pool of Styrofoam containers and plastic sporks. Fingers made from thousands of plastic straws grabbed at us.

  “Frag out!” Curtis cried.

  He twisted the head of a rubber ducky and launched it into the ocean of garbage.

  A geyser exploded, sending muck-monster chunks flying.

  An otherworldly squeal rippled through the garbage patch. Stretchy trash tentacles lashed out at us. We hacked through its gooey limbs.

  I hurled a rubber ducky depth charge in front of the boat. Boom! Squeal! A small path cleared in front of us. Curtis lobbed another ducky that tore a huge hole in the gyre.

  Victor gunned the engine. Behind us, a mountain of trash surged into a fifteen-foot wave. Victor veered the boat as the dripping sludge smashed into the water. The island came into view. The rocky shore was close. We could make it.

  The boat jerked to a stop. The engine made an angry, straining grind. A web of garbage wrapped around the boat propeller. Cassie raised her machete to try to cut us lose.

  Three distinct burps broke the blob’s surface. We were dragged sideways.

  Waves of plastic shopping bags swirled into a circle. The ocean was a merry-go-round of junk, spinning us in dizzying circles.

  “Trash vortex!” I screamed.

  A hole widened in the center of the garbage patch as it sucked junk down its gullet like a hungry bathtub drain. The gyre was reeling us in. We were the catch of the day.

  I looked around for any sign of hope.

  “We need to jump,” I said.

  “Go in the water?!” Berna shouted. “Are you crazy?”

  “Shore’s right there. We can make it if we swim real fast. But if we stay on this boat, we’re going straight down the garbage disposal.”