Milo Speck, Accidental Agent, page 11
“No, look! He’s here!” Tuck pushed her ZoomBaby through Gilgamesh’s feathers toward Milo. On the screen was the gray grid of the Tracker, Tuck’s fat red dot at the center. But now the two other dots Tuck had noted earlier were larger and had almost reached the middle of the screen.
“It’s Lyndon!” said Tuck. “I know it! It’s Lyndon! He recovered your dad’s ZoomBaby under the bucket and is on his way here for me. He couldn’t find me before, because I had this thing turned off to save the battery, but now—”
The ZoomBaby disappeared through the feathers.
“Wait!” called Milo, but Tuck had already abandoned the safety of the drinking fountain and was running in the direction the dot had indicated. “Lyndon!” Milo heard her call. “Lyndon! I’m here!”
Gilgamesh, startled by the outburst, warbled nervously and smooshed himself farther under the fountain. Milo was knocked to the ground and then sat upon.
“Tuck!” Milo called from beneath the bird. “Come back! You don’t know—” Before he could finish his thought, an office door banged open.
“Which way?” growled an unmistakably ogre-ish voice.
The reply was not ogre-ish at all. It did not growl, nor did it boom. It was a quieter voice, though there was something commanding about it. “Right in front of you,” it said.
Milo peeked out from under Gilgamesh as best he could. There in the hallway, towering above Tuck, stood two massive security ogres, one of whom carried a silver breakfast tray. Milo watched in horror as the other crouched, his pawlike hands poised to scoop up Tuck.
“Stop!”
The voice may have been smaller and less growly than an ogre’s, but it had its effect. The ogre froze midscoop.
“Set me down.”
The breakfast tray was lowered to the floor. What rested upon it was not breakfast at all, but a human-sized desk and a human-sized chair, upon which sat a human-sized human dressed in a Tuckerman Agency uniform.
“Lyndon!” cried Tuck.
“My girl!” The man at the desk stood. He had thick, wavy hair and an equally dense mustache, below which sat a smile so broad that it seemed not to belong to him. It was as if he had borrowed a larger man’s teeth for the day.
Milo watched as Tuck ran up onto the tray and straight into Lyndon’s arms. “I knew you’d come!” said Tuck. “I knew you had a plan. These two ogres are on your side, aren’t they? You got them on your side and you came to get me.”
“Exactly right,” said Lyndon. “You are a very smart girl. Very clever, too. You escaped from your prison.” He lifted a ZoomBaby off his desk. “Clever idea to leave this on Voice Activate.”
Even through turkey feathers, Milo could see how proud Tuck looked.
“Very impressive,” Lyndon continued. “And letting those other kids free? That was you? You did this all by yourself?”
Milo waited for Tuck to introduce him and explain how they had been working together to destroy the whazzit, but Tuck only shrugged.
She’s not going to tell him about me, thought Milo. She’s going to let him think she escaped from the bucket and rescued Jane and Ernesto and Little Dude from their cage all by herself. He bet she was even going to go off with this Lyndon guy and his ogre pals now, leaving Milo to call the zipper and go home alone.
He fought the urge to wriggle out from under Gilgamesh and call Tuck a fraud. He didn’t need credit, he reminded himself. All he needed was to stay an agent so he could help Dad find Mom. Maybe it was better this way. If Tuck lied to Lyndon about what she had accomplished, there was no way she would fire Milo. Not when he knew the truth about how things had really happened and could spill the beans at any time.
“And you’ve been acquiring things too, eh?” said Lyndon, tugging gently at the rubber band that stretched over Tuck’s shoulder.
“Well …” started Tuck.
“Boss? I think they’re calling for you.” The security ogre had a finger in one ear and wore a small receiver in the other.
“You think they’re calling?” said Lyndon.
“That or somebody’s ordering at the McGobbler’s across the street—these headsets don’t work too good.”
“We will assume it is the former.” Lyndon smoothed his mustache and turned to Tuck. “There is a very important announcement about to be made—” he began.
“I know!” said Tuck. “About the dryer and everything. About kids being brought here for food.”
Lyndon nodded. “You are far smarter than I even knew. It’s really too bad we didn’t have more time for training. You might have been useful—”
“I can be useful!” insisted Tuck. “You’re going in there to destroy the dryer, right? I can help!”
“Now, now, don’t get too excited. Have a seat.” Lyndon sat Tuck in his chair. “And let’s get this thing off you.” The man lifted one of Tuck’s arms and, like a father helping his young child remove a too-tight sweater, pulled the rubber band up over her head. Then, with startling speed, he stretched the band down over both of Tuck’s arms and around the back of the chair, pinning her in place.
“Hey!” cried Tuck. “What are you doing? I’ll stay out of your way! If you don’t want my help, just say so.”
“I do want your help. You will be very helpful, dear. Your replacement is late being delivered, and it was going to be difficult for those Big Wigs to focus if they thought there would be no Squashing. Now perhaps they’ll listen to my presentation, believing that they’ll get the show they came for.”
Milo fought the alarm rising in his chest. Lyndon must mean to trick the ogres, he told himself. It must be part of a larger plan—Tuck would be offered for the Squashing as if everything was normal. That’s why she had to be rubber-banded to the chair, so she looked like a prisoner, right? Lyndon and his ogres would destroy the whazzit, and then he and Tuck and whoever else was in on the plan—maybe even Dad—would all escape together. That had to be it.
Lyndon’s voice grew commanding again. “Bring this child in and tell them that I have recaptured Tuckerman. I will use the backstage entrance and stay there until I am properly introduced.”
The second ogre nodded so firmly that his mirrored glasses bobbled on his nose. “Anything you say, Dr. El.”
21
Dr. El
Dr. El?
Milo and Tuck gasped simultaneously, though Milo’s gasp went unheard by anyone but the turkey who sat atop him.
“You see, dear,” said Lyndon, his borrowed-looking smile growing even larger, “having you Squashed helps me in two ways. First, it satisfies the bloodlust of the good citizens of Ogregon. They do love a good Squashing, and since this is my first real appearance among them, I want everything to go perfectly. You don’t really get a second chance with ogres. Mess up, and they eat you. This presentation of the whazzit is my chance to persuade all Ogregon of my power and brilliance … and after that’s done, their world will be pretty much at my command. Once I’ve made friends here, it will be easy to align myself with the trolls and the orcs and whoever else I might need.”
“Need for what?” asked Tuck.
“Credible threat. In the old days, everyone at Home knew about dragons and goblins and what have you. Those who offered protection were heroes. They were revered. Honored. Stories were told about them, books were written. They were well compensated for their deeds too. But today, your average homeowner goes about la-di-da, working at his job, shopping at the grocery store, never once thinking he might run into a bloodthirsty orc in the frozen food section. Never once realizing the importance of those with the skills and know-how to save them.” Lyndon paused to smooth his hair. “I intend to change that.”
“You can’t—” started Tuck.
“Not yet. But here’s the second benefit to your Squashing: Once the deed is done and there is no remaining Tuckerman heir, power will shift, as it has in ages past, to the next most qualified agent, which is, of course, me. Finally, the Agency will have the leader it deserves, and I will have the power that should have been mine all along.”
“But … I trusted you!”
“Yes, you did, and I really need to thank you for that. You and your father. Him so lazy about anything that wasn’t a super-fun adventure and you so needy after his neglect. I couldn’t believe my luck when he heard about that frost dragon. All I had to say was ‘Don’t send two when one will do,’ and he was out of the picture. And you? You’re just a kid. It won’t be hard to persuade our fellow agents that you ordered me to take you here to Ogregon and then escaped to follow your own selfish pursuits.”
Lyndon dropped his smile and made his face sorrowful, convincing tears streaming down his cheeks. “She was so young. So impulsive. Terrible tragedy.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes. “The makeup people will have to go waterproof for that press conference. Can’t have the new Head of the Tuckerman Agency looking too much of a mess, can we?”
In the stories that Milo and his father had read, there was often a moment like this, one when time seemed to stop as the villain explained his evil plan. Those moments always bothered Milo—why didn’t the hero attack? Why did he just sit there listening? And yet that was exactly what was happening now. Milo was just lying there listening, unable to move—not only because of the outsized turkey that sat atop him—but because he was stunned by what he was hearing. Tuck, too, sat frozen, as if waiting for Lyndon’s words to reorganize themselves into any other meaning than that she had been betrayed.
“I trusted you,” she said again.
“We’ve covered that,” said Lyndon. He snapped his fingers. “Okay, boys, let’s get going.”
The larger of the security ogres lifted the breakfast tray from the Home Office floor, and the frozen feeling that had so paralyzed Tuck and Milo vanished.
Tuck struggled to free herself from the desk chair.
Milo struggled to get himself out from under Gilgamesh.
Gilgamesh struggled to push himself farther under the drinking fountain.
And the rubber bands—which had been holding Milo’s tightly compressed toaster springs—struggled free of their duty.
Zoing! The springs exploded to full length, snapping the already-skittish bird sharply in the backside. Gilgamesh shot from under the fountain like a plumed cannonball, flapping and wurbling and scattering dust in all directions. The startled ogres screamed and threw up their hands. The breakfast tray launched high into the air, turning end over end, sending both Lyndon and the chair-bound Tuck flying.
With reflexes a thousand times quicker than his wit, a security ogre snatched his boss in midair—but Tuck continued skyward, turning pinwheel-esque. Milo stood paralyzed. What could he do? He couldn’t catch her. He couldn’t stop her from falling. He was helpless.
“Come!” A strong, firm voice befitting the Head of the Tuckerman Agency cut through the chaos. Gilgamesh rocketed straight for the free-falling girl. Milo watched in awe as the great bird opened its beak, caught the arm of the chair mid-tumble, and soared down the hallway, through the propped-open exit door, and out of sight.
The breakfast tray clattered to the floor, the desk and the security ogre’s headset crashing down beside it. “Dr. El to the Green Room for makeup,” screeched a voice from the headset. Milo crouched reflexively under the fountain as a security ogre scooped up the device.
“What?” he hollered into it. “Okay. Dr. El, the replacement boy got delivered. And they need you in makeup.”
“Well then, to makeup we shall go,” said Lyndon.
“Don’t you want we should go after Tuckerman?”
“One of you take me to the Green Room, and the other can go after her, I suppose—but if you don’t find her right away, just come back. Now that the replacement has been delivered, we won’t need to Squash her. The bird is probably halfway to the forest by now, and the girl is as good as dead. She’s completely clueless about how to survive on her own.” Milo heard Lyndon chuckle. “I should know. I trained her.”
22
Tuckerman Agents Are on the Way!
Milo stood stunned as the security ogres parted, one heading toward the Office of Bragging About Stuff with Lyndon—Dr. El—and the other lumbering down the long Home Office home office hallway and out the exit door, slamming it hard behind him.
Milo slumped against the cold, damp wall. Tuck was out there all alone and there was nothing Milo could do. He couldn’t open that huge door all by himself. And even if he could, then what? How would he begin to know where to look for her?
He could have stopped this from happening. If he’d done what his father told him to do, if he’d gone through the zipper with Jane or called the zipper himself once he had been sworn in as an emergency agent, Tuck would be safe.
But no, he had wanted to go on adventures. He had wanted to be such a big hero that Tuck would make him a real agent.
Who did he think he was? He was a kid. A scrawny little kid.
He was not some hero in a book.
How stupid he had been.
There was nothing he could do about it either, except call the zipper and go back to Tuckerman Agency Headquarters and cross his fingers that some real agent would show up so he could explain everything. Hopefully, it would not be too late for a true hero to zip to Ogregon and save Tuck. Wherever she was.
Though there were no ogres around to hear him, Milo could not bring himself to speak in anything more than a whisper. “I swear as a Tuckerman Agent to do my duty with courage and wisdom and utmost fidelity, until all that can be done has been done.”
The silver light appeared. It grew wider and sharper until the gleaming zipper hung before him, its shining ring dangling within reach. All the while, the words of the oath echoed beneath the fountain. Until all that can be done has been done.
Milo grabbed hold of the ring and dragged it slowly to the floor.
Just as before, he saw the golden fizzy light and the wood-paneled room with the painting of the needle-holding knight. Unlike before, a stern recorded voice echoed off its walls: “HALT! TUCKERMAN AGENTS ARE ON THE WAY! THERE IS NO ESCAPE!” In the midst of it all, on the desk closest to the zipper opening, a plump, dark-haired boy sat swinging his legs and munching happily on a granola bar.
“Little Dude?” said Milo.
The boy looked up from his snack. His eyes grew round, and bits of oat and chocolate chip flew through the air as he cried out. “¡Patito!”
From somewhere out of Milo’s view came Ernesto’s voice. “Little Dude, I don’t know where Patito is, but I found some potato chips.” The boy walked up to the desk carrying an armload of snacks. “Oh! Hey!” he said, spotting the zipper. “Jane, look! They’re okay!”
Milo watched as Jane hurried over. “Milo! What happened? We were worried! I tried to come back for you guys, but I couldn’t get that zipper thing to work.”
“Your mission failed. You said ‘to get us all out of Ogregon,’ and then I messed that up for you.”
“No problem, man. Now that I know you’re okay, I don’t have any reason to go back there. Ever.”
“HALT! TUCKERMAN AGENTS ARE ON THE WAY!” boomed the recording.
Little Dude put his hands over his ears. “Halt,” he said.
“Hey,” said Jane. “Where’s Tuck?”
“She’s … I don’t know.” Milo explained as quickly as he could about staying behind to sabotage the whazzit. About Lyndon being Dr. El, and Tuck escaping with Gilgamesh. “I don’t know where she is now,” he said finally. “I called the zipper so I could go to the Agency and find help—”
“THERE IS NO ESCAPE!” interrupted the alarm.
“How long has that been going on?” Milo asked.
“A few minutes. We’ve been locked in this room ever since we got here, and Little Dude was hungry. We started searching the desks for snacks, and we must have triggered some kind of alarm.”
“I found granola bars,” said Ernesto. “Want one?” The boy tossed a foil package at the zipper opening, but instead of reaching Milo, it bounced back.
“I guess nothing can get through until someone says a mission,” said Milo.
“So, state your mission and come home,” said Jane.
Milo hesitated.
“It’s easy,” said Jane. “Just say whatever it is you want to do.”
What did he want to do? Milo could think of lots of things he wanted. He wanted Tuck to be safe and his whole family to be home in Downriver, together again. But what did he want to do?
“TUCKERMAN AGENTS ARE ON THE WAY!”
The silver ring jiggled.
“Hurry up, man. It’s gonna close.”
Milo took a step toward the zipper opening. His legs felt slow and heavy, and once again he was reminded of climbing the snow-covered hill behind Guinevere’s Pizza and Subs. “I can’t come back yet. My dad is still here. I want to be here with him. You’ll tell the agents what I told you, though, won’t you? You’ll tell them to come find Tuck?”
All this time the zipper pull had been slowly rising. Jane hopped up on a desk to keep Milo in view. “I’ll tell them.”
“And tell them they can’t trust Lyndon—he wants to take over the Agency—they’ve got to stop him. And about the whazzit, too, okay? Tell them to go to the Bragging Office. Tell them to destroy the whazzit. Tell them—” He was on his toes now, peering up through the ever-shrinking opening. He saw the top of Jane’s head nod.
“I’ll tell them everything,” Jane called back. “But what are you going to do?”
The zipper reached the end of its track. Milo watched it shimmer and then dissolve.
What was he going to do?
Milo wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he could not leave Ogregon until he was certain that Dad was safe.
As if on cue, the doors at the far end of the hallway banged open.
Milo whipped around. A catering ogre emerged in the open doorway, pushing a cart upon which rested a tower of turkey drumsticks so tall that she was forced to peer around it to see where she was going. Milo watched as the cart approached, its sticky wheels sending it zigging and zagging down the Home Office home office hallway just as the quiche cart had earlier.
