Smells Like Dog by Suzanne Selfors
Lorelei, her shoulder pressed against Homer’s, searched with equal determination. No one in Mrs. Peepgrass’s class had ever helped Homer look for anything. They would never even believe him if he told them about an evil lair. You’re such a weirdo, Homer Pudding. But Lorelei was willing to believe. If she still needed a home when this was all over, he’d ask his parents to adopt her. They could turn the attic into her room. They could walk to school together and eat lunch together. She would never have to eat cold soup from a can again.
They ran their fingers along the map—his followed the external walls, hers followed the internal walls. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. He moved his finger across the illustrated museum grounds. “Hey, what’s that?” He traced a pair of thick blue lines.
Lorelei pointed to the map’s legend. “Says ‘City Channel.’ ”
“A channel? Like, water?”
“I guess so.” She shrugged. “I’ve never seen any water around the museum. Except for the birdbaths.”
“According to this map, the channel runs up to the museum’s western wall and then back out the eastern wall. It must go under the museum.” Homer held out his compass. “That’s not possible, though, because we’re at the eastern wall and there’s no channel here.”
Homer stood and looked out over the garden. “Look at that flower bed,” he said. “Look how wide it is. It runs straight from the wall to the street.” He ran over and read a plaque that was stuck in the flower bed: OLD CITY CHANNEL BEDS.
“There’s a bed just like it on the other side,” Lorelei said. “Oh, I see. The channel was filled in.”
“Or…” Homer waved the map. “The channel was covered up. What if it’s still down there? What if it still runs under the museum?”
“Then that would be the perfect place for a lair.”
Homer smiled. They made a great team. “I need to get back inside and look. Will you show me how you get in?”
“Sure. But you have to promise that you’ll never tell anyone else about it. If other people start using my secret entrance, the museum staff might find out and they’ll seal it shut and I’ll never get in for free, ever again.”
“I promise,” Homer said solemnly. They shook hands.
“Okay. Follow me.”
Homer switched off his flashlight and folded the map, tucking both into his jacket pocket. Then he picked up Dog’s leash and they followed Lorelei around the building. He’d lost track of the time. He guessed it to be around midnight, but the glow of The City’s streetlights and the floodlights perched along the museum roof suspended the museum grounds between night and day. They followed the north wall. This side of the museum was thick with underbrush and shrubbery. No parking lots, no gardens, just wild foliage. At the wall’s midpoint, Lorelei pushed aside some ivy vines, exposing a large metal grate set in the ground. “I think this is for ventilation, but I really don’t know.” She reached into her sweater, then shoved something at Homer. The something grabbed and clung to the front of his jacket.
Homer held his breath as Daisy the rat stared up at him with her beady eyes, her brown whiskers twitching with annoyance. She climbed up the jacket’s collar until her nose reached his chin. Would she go for his jugular? She sniffed his neck, his mouth, his right ear, then his left ear. He stood frozen and cross-eyed as she sniffed the tip of his nose. “Nice rat,” he whispered.
“Grrrr.” Dog pawed at Homer’s leg.
Lorelei knelt and with a heave, pulled the grate free. She stuck her head into the metal pipe. “It’s a long crawl.” Her voice echoed off the steel walls. “And there’s lots of spiders. I’m just warning you in case you don’t like spiders.”
Spiders were the least of Homer’s worries. He wasn’t sure he could fit into the pipe.
“The pipe leads into the basement. There’s another grate at the other end but it’s easy to remove. I’ve never explored the basement. Just a bunch of offices, I think.”
“Lorelei? Do you mind?” Homer grimaced as Daisy sniffed his face.
“Oh. Sorry.” She peeled Daisy from his shirt. He shuddered.
And that’s when a whirring sound filled the air and white light flooded Homer’s vision. Two hands reached from the sky and lifted him off the ground.
Lorelei screamed.
PART FIVE
THE TOWER IN THE SKY
23
Clouds, Clouds Everywhere
It took Homer a few moments to realize what had happened. Squinting against the brightness, he reached out a hand. It disappeared into nothingness. Above, below, and all around, whiteness floated.
He was inside a cloud.
Have you ever looked out an airplane window at the very moment when you reach the clouds? It’s another world up there, filled with wispy tendrils and frothy fronds. Who hasn’t imagined bouncing from billow to billow or sliding down hills of puff? Of course, anyone foolish enough to attempt that would have a very long fall to deal with because clouds aren’t one bit solid, just a collection of water vapor.
Which is why Homer felt more confused than ever because he was sitting in a seat. A solid seat. And his feet rested on a solid floor. He reached up and found a roof. He wiped dew from his eyelids, then looked around at his colorless surroundings. “Dog?”
“Urrrr.” A paw tapped Homer’s shoe.
“There you are,” Homer said with relief. He heaved Dog onto his lap. Dog pressed his cold nose into Homer’s ear.
“Where are we?” a girl’s voice asked.
“Lorelei? Is that you?”
Her pink hair appeared first, then her upturned nose as she stuck her head out of the nothingness. “Someone grabbed me,” she said in a shaky voice.
“Me, too.” Homer fanned his hands until some of the billows cleared, revealing Lorelei in a seat right next to him. But as soon as he stopped fanning, the whiteness returned.
Lorelei gasped. “We’re moving. Can you feel it? We’re moving.”
“Yeah.” Just like on an elevator, a sinking sensation filled Homer’s stomach. “I think we’re on that cloud I told you about.”
“You mean the guy with the sword?” Lorelei took a deep breath and blew until the space between them cleared. Her eyes were wide with fear. “We gotta get off this thing.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t like this one bit.” Whiteness drifted between them again. “I’m going to jump off.”
Homer tightened his grip around Dog. “You can’t jump off. We don’t know how high we are.”
“We’ve got to do something,” Lorelei said, grabbing his shoulder. “We’ve been kidnapped. Don’t you see? People who kidnap kids are evil.”
Evil seemed to be the theme of the day.
“I’m outta here.” She made some shuffling noises and before Homer could say That’s a terrible idea, his seat tipped.
“What the devil is going on? Stop moving around back there,” a man’s voice ordered from the void.
Dog’s entire body tensed. Homer tensed, too, as he recognized the man’s accent. Ajitabh.
“It’s him,” Homer whispered. “Lorelei? Are you okay?”
More shuffling sounds, then his seat leveled. “Yeah,” she whispered back. “I… changed my mind.”
A pair of goggles thrust out of the whiteness, right into Homer’s face. “Best put those on,” Ajitabh said.
“Take us back to the museum,” Homer demanded.
“Yeah. Right now,” Lorelei cried.
“No time to chat. The cloudcopter travels at high altitudes. Unless you wish to freeze your eyeballs and spend the rest of your life as blind as a bloomin’ bat, I suggest you wear the goggles.” Another pair of goggles appeared. “For the hound.”
The temperature had dropped. Homer quickly put on his goggles, then grabbed the second pair and slid them over Dog’s head. Dog shook his head, trying to loosen the goggles. “Lorelei, did you get goggles?” Homer asked.
“Yeah.” How odd to have her sit so close yet not
The air grew colder still. Homer was glad for his heavy farm jacket. “Unless you wish to fall to your deaths, chaps, I suggest you fasten your seatbelts. There are no doors on this ’copter and I’m taking us into a steep turn.”
A click sounded as Lorelei fastened her belt. Not wanting to fall to his death on that particular day or on any particular day, Homer felt around for his belt. “I can’t find it,” he said. The heavy feeling in his stomach grew stronger and the cloud tipped. Dog began to slide off Homer’s lap. “HELP!” Homer cried. The turn tightened and the cloud tipped further. Homer began to slip out of the seat. “We’re gonna fall off!” He held on to the seat’s armrest with one hand, his other hand wrapped around Dog.
“Homer!” Lorelei reached out with both hands and grabbed his arm. “Hold on, Homer.”
As Lorelei held tight to Homer’s jacket sleeve, Homer held tight to the chair and to Dog. Fighting gravity, he pressed his feet against the ’copter’s floor and tried to wedge his bottom into the seat. His legs started shaking from the sheer strain. The cloud tipped further. “Help him!” Lorelei called out. “He’s not strapped in!”
“What’s that?” Ajitabh called from the void. “Can’t quite hear you.”
Homer squeezed his eyes shut, sending every ounce of strength to his arms and legs. Dog whimpered and slid a bit more. Homer’s forearms burned, his shoulders ached. The weight was almost too much to bear. Dog was going to fall to his death and there was nothing he could do.
Dog kicked his stumpy legs, then slid from under Homer’s arm. Homer grabbed Dog’s collar. “HELP!”
“Hold on!” Ajitabh called. “Pulling out of the turn… now.”
The cloud leveled. Dog fell back into Homer’s lap. Lorelei, still camouflaged by the cloud, let go of Homer’s arm, felt around, then handed him a thick canvas belt. “Here it is.”
Homer’s heart pounded in his neck as he pulled the belt across Dog and clicked it into place.
Lorelei blew until the space between them cleared. The goggles made her look like she had insect eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he said between deep breaths. He relaxed his legs and rubbed his aching arms. “Thanks. You saved us.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you’ll save me next time.” Cloud crept between them again and Lorelei’s scared face disappeared.
Dampness slid inside Homer’s collar and he shivered. Ajitabh wanted the coin, no doubt about it. He’d gone to the Pudding Farm looking for it, he’d crashed through Snooty and Snooty’s window trying to get it. But Homer no longer had the coin. How would Ajitabh react to that news? Would he let them go or get angry and throw them off the ’copter?
“Let Lorelei go,” Homer called out. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“Hold on! Turbulence ahead!”
Dog whimpered as the cloud bounced violently.
Lorelei fanned the billows with her hands, then leaned as close to Homer as she could. “We have… to come up… with some… sort of plan,” she said, her voice vibrating with each bounce. “As soon… as the tur… bulence stops… we’ll both… rush forward… and push… him off.”
“Then what?” Homer’s legs went numb as Dog bounced on his lap.
“Do I… have to think… of everything?”
The turbulence worsened. Homer thought his head might jar loose and fly off. He considered Lorelei’s plan. Even if they did manage to push Ajitabh off the cloud, which would be murder, how would they get home? Homer had no idea how to fly a cloudcopter or what a cloudcopter was, for that matter. Or even where they were! “We can’t push him off. It’s too dangerous. I’ll think of something else but for now, use your compass. We’ll keep track of the route so we can get home. I’ll record the readings.”
“Good idea.”
Between bounces, Homer searched his pockets until he found his Swiss army knife. He flipped open its miniature pencil. Then he found a blank space on the museum map and wrote Lorelei’s readings as she whispered them.
Time passed. Each turbulent minute carried them farther away from The City. Would they have to walk all the way home? Unless Lorelei had her driver’s license, then maybe they could steal a truck. “How old are you?” Homer asked.
“Twelve,” Lorelei replied. Yep, they’d have to walk. Would this turn out like The Odyssey? Would Homer be gone for twenty years?
Finally, the turbulence stopped and the cloudcopter glided smoothly in the night air. An occasional star shone through the cloud’s puffy layers. Dog stretched across Homer’s lap, his rump hanging off the seat, and fell asleep. Homer used Dog’s back as a table and continued to record the compass readings.
One hour passed, then another. Homer’s eyelids grew heavy and his head fell forward. He snapped awake. The cloud had stopped moving. Icy air stung his nose.
“Homer, I think we’ve landed,” Lorelei said.
The whirring sound stopped. They took off their goggles. Cloud vapors drifted away and Homer and Lorelei saw the cloudcopter for the first time. It was a small, doorless helicopter, with two passenger seats in the back and a cockpit up front. Shiny metal tubes stuck out all over like needles in a pincushion. A lingering wisp of cloud drifted from the tube closest to Homer. He and Dog peered over the armrest. They had landed on a large, round platform that had no walls, no railing, just an edge that dropped into nothingness. A range of mountains spread out as far as the eye could see, their snow-covered craggy peaks piercing a starry sky.
“I say, why are you two sitting there like a couple of statues?” Ajitabh’s head poked out of a hole in the platform. He wore a leather flight jacket. His goggles were perched on his forehead. “Don’t dillydally. Who would like a spot of tea?” He sounded rather chipper for a kidnapper.
Lorelei grabbed Homer’s arm. Daisy the rat climbed out of Lorelei’s sweater and perched on her shoulder. “Don’t go. He tried to kill you, remember?”
No one needed to remind Homer of that fact. The gleam of the sword’s blade was forever branded in his mind’s eye. “Let Lorelei and Dog go. Then I’ll give you the coin,” Homer said through nearly frozen lips.
“Let Homer go, too,” Lorelei cried. “He doesn’t have the coin anymore. The museum director has it.”
Homer wished she hadn’t said that. Pretending to have the coin might have been his only bargaining tool. Would Ajitabh lash out in anger? But their kidnapper stroked his long mustache, then said, “Blasted shame. Not to worry. Membership is still yours to claim even without the coin.”
“Membership?” Lorelei lowered her voice. “What’s he talking about?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come come, all of you. The hound and the rat, too. Mumble will treat us to chickpea curry. He tries his best to bring a bit of India to my lonely mountain home.” Ajitabh’s head disappeared into the hole.
Homer didn’t know what a chickpea was. But he hadn’t eaten any of those cookies at the fake VIP party and even though the ride had been rough, his stomach ached with hunger.
“This feels like a trap,” Lorelei said. “Remember what Circe did to Odysseus? She offered his men lots of food and then turned them into pigs.” She climbed into the cockpit. “Maybe we can fly this thing. We’ve got the compass readings to guide us home.” She ran her hands over the dials. “Do you know how to fly?”
“No.” Homer’s stomach growled. But more than hunger, curiosity tugged at his body. What membership could he still claim? “I think I should go in there and talk to him. You stay out here.” He slid Dog off his lap, then jumped out of the ’copter and onto the platform.
“Howooooo!”
“Don’t worry. I know better than to try to leave you.” Homer reached up and removed Dog’s goggles, then helped him off the ’copter. He attached the leash so Dog wouldn’t fall off the platform’s edge. Daisy leaped from Lorelei’s shoulder onto Homer’s arm, then onto the platform where she scurried down the hole.
Vertigo swept over Homer as he stood next to her. A snow-speckled valley lay far below. This was way higher than the thirty-second floor. “I’m sorry I got you into this,” he said, stepping away from the edge.
Lorelei shrugged. “I’ve been in worse places.” A breeze rustled the ends of her pink hair. For a long moment they looked into each other’s eyes. “I’m scared,” she admitted.
“Me, too.”
The hole turned out to be an entrance to a steep stairway. Once inside, Homer took off the leash and stuck it into his pocket.
“I’m going to let you eat first,” Lorelei said. “And if you turn into a pig, I’m making a run for it. Got it?”
“Got it.”
With Dog between them, he and Lorelei descended the stairs, one cautious step at a time.
24
Conqueror of the Sky
Homer, Dog, and Lorelei slowly made their way down the winding staircase. Candles, sitting in small alcoves, sent spidery shadows across the stone walls. They passed eight locked wooden doors but the ninth stood wide open. “In here,” Ajitabh called. Warm air beckoned from the doorway. After sharing a look of trepidation, they stepped inside.
Colorful pillows lay scattered across a richly carpeted room. A teakettle hummed on a glowing woodstove. Ajitabh, his flight jacket and goggles shed, lifted the kettle and carried it to a low, round table. He poured steaming brown liquid into three glasses. “Come in,” he said, waving his hand. “I hope you like chai.”
Homer took a long look at the face of the man who’d tried to kill him—the black mustache and beard, the arched eyebrows, the nearly black eyes—definitely villain features. His clothes, though, didn’t look very sinister. A knee-length embroidered white shirt hung over a pair of worn jeans and his feet were bare. But there was the sword, lying on a shelf.