A rat was the perfect pet for Addy Crowe. And trust her to insist on not going anywhere until they found it. Was her uncle like this? Wylder hoped not. Viminy Crowe had to have a sense of humor and a real love of the world he had created. All Addy wanted to do was leave it. And she would not listen to anyone else’s opinion. Her mouth set like concrete.
“It’s only a rat,” he told her. “I don’t want to look for—”
“I’ll start at the far end of the car. You start here, and we’ll meet in the middle. Don’t be scared, little boy.”
“Who are you calling little? I bet I’m the same age as you are. I’ll be twelve in October.”
“And who’s scared?” he called after her. “You think I’m scared? I was surprised, that’s all. Your stupid rat surprised me.”
She turned to look over her shoulder.
“You screamed. I turned twelve last month. And he has a name.”
And off she went. So annoying. Wylder would have run in the opposite direction, except that he’d bump into that invisible wall again. He needed to get to another page. Could he grab the comic from Addy? It wasn’t a nice thing to do—twice—but she wasn’t being nice either.
He pretended to look for the rat under the nearest seat. A woman across the aisle glared at him. Mean old thing with her hair up and her eyebrows down. Wylder stuck out his tongue at her. He was angry at Addy and could pretend this woman was her.
“Come on, Catnip!” Addy pleaded from the other end of the car. She was on all fours with the comic rolled up in her hand. “I have some lettuce for you, Catty-pie.”
Wylder looked out the windows on the left-hand side of the car, where the snowy mountainside climbed up to the sky in a two-pronged peak. A snowboarder carved along the mountain beside the train. An engine on the back of his board allowed him to keep pace with the locomotive! He hit a snowy bump and flew through the air, staying airborne for long seconds. What a sport—jet boarding! The guy’s head turned—he was checking out the train, getting ready. He angled himself so he was pointing downhill, and at the next mogul he took off and flew right over the passenger car, landing on the other side of the train. For a second, he was almost close enough to wipe the window with his mustache, before he zipped away down the mountainside. Wylder wasn’t the only one in the car who went “Ooooh!” The motor on the back of the board trailed a pure white jet of steam.
Wylder felt a thrill of recognition. It had to be Flynn, right? Who else? Checking out the train he was going to rob. Yes, he was in a hotel room on the next page. But you never knew when or where Flynn would pop up. That was the fun of the comic.
Wylder pressed his face into the curve of the window, hoping to get another glimpse, when a jolly voice spoke from down around hip level.
“DISPOSAL SERVIDUDE. PLEASE PLACE TRASH IN RECEPTACLE. THANK YOU.”
This ServiDude was a short, wide cylinder. Near the top was a round opening with a flap that popped up and down when the ServiDude talked. The man beside him tossed a newspaper into the mouth. Munching noises, and then a belch and a roar as the newspaper was consumed. A wisp of smoke escaped the flap.
Wylder moved on. Those robot guys with the bowler hats were in the next seat. Jeez, they were big.
They looked like twins, with the same beaky noses and the same moles on their faces—small black spots at the hinge of the jaw. Or—wait! Wylder took a second look. Those weren’t beauty marks. Those were the screws holding their mouths together.
Wylder stumbled down the aisle to Addy, who was peering under an empty seat.
“Did you see those giant robots?” he whispered.
“I told you.” She twisted round. “They’re called Snap and Krackle—like the cereal, you know? They’re part of Lickpenny’s plan to get the gold.”
“They must be eight feet tall! I’m surprised they haven’t broken the seats.”
Addy sighed, reminding Wylder of his mother. Not in a good way.
“Did you or did you not find Catnip?”
“Not.”
“Well, keep looking!”
The comic was still in her hand. Could he grab it?
“Hey! What are you two demons up to?” Nelly stood beside them. “You were supposed to be joining us for tea. Not that I care if you’re rude enough to miss tea when you’ve been invited. But my aunt sent me to find you.”
“We’re looking for my pet,” said Addy.
Nelly narrowed her eyes. “Are you referring to that pink-eyed beast that attacked us back there in the water closet?”
“Catnip is as cuddly as a kitten,” said Addy.
The comic book was in reach. Wylder planned his move. Ready … set … But before he could think go, someone screamed at the far end of the carriage.
An old lady stood in the aisle, the ruffles on her dress bouncing as she jumped up and down. For a tiny person, she had enormous lungs.
“HELP! VERMIN! VERMIN!” She pointed at her seat.
“Holy cannoli!” Addy was alert at once. “Catnip!”
She ran down the aisle, Wylder and Nelly close behind. By the time they reached the spot, other passengers had gathered. A man with a hedge of whiskers and a monocle had given up his seat to the old lady. A younger woman wearing a considerable hat patted her hand and soothed, “There, there.”
A ServiDude spoke in a brisk, no-nonsense voice. “MAY I CARRY YOUR BAG? SHALL I CALL A JANITOR OR MEDICO OR DISPOSAL UNIT? THE DINING CAR IS NEXT DOOR.”
A cloth handbag sat open on the old lady’s seat. Peering past the ServiDude, Wylder saw a pink nose and twitchy whiskers poking out.
Nelly grabbed a closed parasol from an empty seat and lifted it like a club. “Shut your pipes, ma’am,” she said to the flustered old lady. “I’ll get rid of the rat!”
“No! No! Leave him alone!” Addy was dancing in frustration, trying to get past the ServiDude. She tossed the comic to Wylder and jumped onto the seat. Catnip leaped and climbed out of her reach.
The carriage door opened and in strode Captain McGurk of the Best Western Red Riders, his face as red as his uniform. Flynn had foiled him in both of the earlier adventures. Wylder recognized him at once.
The tremendous explosion reverberated in Wylder’s ears. Maybe throwing the comic book wasn’t the smoothest move, but at least the captain’s bullet had gone into the ceiling instead of the rat! But now the fluttering pages were making the train car spin in slow motion, whooshing the comic back toward Wylder. He and Addy fell over each other, ending up on the floor with the comic beneath them.
Wylder looked up. Where were they now?
Somewhere far from the Gold Rush Express.