The Snerb made quick business of two metal walls and the tailgate, then it went after the back tires.
“Arriving at destination,” Vexler said in her calm German accent. “Prepare for impact.”
The Snerb chomped down on one of the back wheels and tore it right off the truck.
“Prepare for impact?” I repeated.
That’s when I saw that we were back at Colossal Chemistry. We crashed through the heavy metal gate at the same moment the Snerb ate wheel number two. We were suddenly pitched upward, staring at the sky. Sparks flew as we dragged the back end of the truck on the axels. I peered over the dashboard to see that we were fishtailing down a ramp, toward a garage door. It was opening, but slowly. Too slowly . . .
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“We made it!” Fen yelled.
Vexler had timed it perfectly. You gotta love those scientists, am I right? We slipped underneath, with about an inch to spare. But my joy was short-lived. We slid into a 360, spinning around and around until finally coming to a stop in a shower of sparks and burned rubber. The garage door closed behind us. We were trapped.
“Exit vehicle in five, four—”
It was Vexler, counting us down. But why was she counting down to exit the truck?
“Whoa,” Barker said.
I followed his gaze through the back window of the truck.
Vexler kept counting us down!
“—three, two, one—”
The giant eyeball was staring at us, but it wasn’t as big as a frying pan anymore.
It was about the size of a dishwasher.
It was then, while we stared out the window, that the eyeball reared up into the air and the open mouth of the Snerb appeared. It was like looking into a dark, dreary, wet cavern full of jagged rocks and dripping slime.
If not for Vexler’s voice, I would have been paralyzed long past when I could have escaped.
“go, go, go!”
Fen threw open the passenger door and all three of us tumbled out on top of each other in a pile of screaming terror. In a flash we were up and sprinting away from the horrible grinding sound behind us. By the time I turned around, the truck was completely gone. All that remained was a big, empty warehouse. And one giant Snerb.
“How could that thing have come from my armpit?” I asked out loud.
A furry hose extended from me, across the floor. And there, in all its hideous orange glory, sat the terror that came from my armpit. The hoses had gotten longer and wider, dancing slowly in the air like vipers waiting to strike. Basketball-sized holes sucked air in and out of the body, and the gargantuan mouth hung open. The grill of the truck was stuck to one of the teeth.
The eye stared down at us, huge and bloodshot, wild with hunger for more, more, more. And there was only one thing left for it to eat.
Us.
The Snerb sloshed forward until it was towering over us and then the mouth opened.
It was then that I remembered there was a time, not long ago, when the Snerb had listened to me. It had trusted me. And I’d had about all I was going to take from the thing I was attached to.
“Don’t. You. Dare!” I yelled up at the eyeball.
The Snerb reared back and the eye softened. It looked surprised, like it wasn’t exactly sure what to do next.
“I carried you out of Colossal Chemistry!” I yelled. “I protected you! I took care of you! And in case you haven’t been paying attention, I’m attached to you!”
I held up the floppy rope or hose or whatever it was that started in my armpit, stretched across the floor, and ended in a giant blob of orange fuzz that was bigger than a bus.
“I mean let’s be honest,” Fen whispered. “We’ve been trying to get rid of this thing since it showed up.”
“Back me up here. I’m trying to stop it from eating us.”
“Oh, right, sorry,” Fen whispered, then he yelled up into the air. “You can’t just go around eating kids! It’s undignified!”
The Snerb leaned a little closer.
“Listen,” I said as nicely as I could, “I know you’re trying to eat garbage and pollution. I get that you have a noble purpose. You clean up the world! That’s really great. But we’re not garbage. We’re people.”
The Snerb seemed to understand what I was saying, or at least understand enough that it was having to think twice. I finally realized something I hadn’t before. The Snerb was reacting to how I felt. If I was screaming in terror, the Snerb went bananas. If I was calm, it was calm. I was feeling pretty good about myself, but then there came a big noise from directly behind us. I whirled around to see what it was.
A giant round door, taller than a telephone pole, was opening.
It was the first time I ever set eyes on the real Dr. Vexler. She looked just like she did in her picture, only she wasn’t wearing the lab coat. She was dressed more like an explorer, everything tan colored with lots of pockets. She wore a Panama hat.
“You’re going to need a Snerb-O-Matic,” she said. “It’s the only way.”
“A Snerb-O-Matic?” I repeated.
“Jenny, I’m going to need you to stay calm,” she said. “That thing is going to respond to how you’re doing. If you become too nervous, it might crash through the garage door and eat every garbage can in town.”
“So no pressure then,” I said.
“Very little,” she said. “All you have to do is stand there.”
She looked at Fen and Barker. “You two, get over here.”
Of course, the two boys had to huddle up and talk shop.
“Are we doing this?” Fen asked.
“Not sure we have a lot of options,” Barker answered. “And she seems to know what she’s doing.”
“We could run,” Fen said.
“I say we go see what she wants,” Barker said. “I’ve got two cans of corn if we need them and I’m a good shot. I also have a wooden spoon.”
“You have weird weapons,” Fen said.
“Thanks.”
Vexler was tapping her foot on the concrete floor, nervous or impatient or both.
“The longer you two stand there, the more likely you’ll be on the dinner menu,” Vexler said. “How about we get the show on the road?”
Fen and Barker nodded at each other and walked slowly toward Vexler, who looked small standing in the maw of the door. The Snerb made curious glugging sounds, as if it, too, wondered what Vexler wanted and what lay beyond the giant opening she had come through.
“Steady now,” I said. “We’re just standing around, nothing to worry about. Or I guess you’re not standing since you don’t have legs. But you do have those fancy vacuum noodle hoses. I think I’ll call them Hose-O-Matics. Good for you.”
I know, I know—I need better small talk.
I bit my lip, trying to listen for the others, but I couldn’t really hear what was going on. I only caught bits and pieces of what they were saying.
“. . . like a backpack.”
“Just hold down the trigger . . .”
“This way.”
A moment later, Barker returned. He was alone, holding what looked like an industrial leaf blower. He also had what looked like an orange jetpack strapped to his back. A hose ran out of the bottom and into the darkness behind the door.
“Let me guess,” I said. “That’s a Snerb-O-Matic?”
“You know it,” Barker said, “I’m gonna need you to start the engine.”
“The engine?”
“It’s like a lawnmower. Just pull on the cord.”
I found the handle and pulled the cord, but the engine only sputtered.
“Give it another go,” Barker said.
I pulled two more times and then some sort of gas engine fired up and idled like a chainsaw.
Barker revved the engine, giving it a test, and smoggy air bubbled out of the leaf blower.
“I’m goin’ in!” Barker yelled, and he took off running toward the Snerb.
“You got this, Barker!” Fen yelled from somewhere far behind me.
“This day just keeps getting weirder,” I said.
Barker ran right up to the Snerb and pointed the Snerb-O-Matic up toward all the flopping hoses. Then he held down the trigger on the Snerb-O-Matic and gray smog poured into the room.
“Feeding time for Snerbo!” Barker said.
“Come and get it!” Fen yelled.
It turns out spewing pollution in front of a Snerb has basically the same effect as putting a bucket of slop in front of a piglet. The furry hoses sucked up smog as fast as Barker could dish it out.
“Slowly now,” Vexler yelled from behind me. “One step at a time. Move toward the door.”
Barker started walking backward toward the giant round door. Everything was going to plan, or so it seemed, until the Snerb-O-Matic sputtered and coughed and died.
“I need a restart!” Barker yelled.
“Coming!”
I was standing between Barker and Vexler, only a few steps away, but the vacuum sucking power of the hoses was completely out of control. They’d gotten a taste of pure pollution, and it had sent the Snerb into hyperdrive. It was like standing in the path of a massive wind turbine, dragging us closer and closer on the slick concrete floor.
“Come on, Jenny!” Barker screamed through the whirl of wind. “Here comes its mouth!”
The gaping hole surrounded by teeth was descending toward Barker Mifflin, and I fumbled for the starter handle. It wobbled out of my hand. I reached again and gripped it as tightly as I could. Three pulls later and all I’d gotten was a few sputters.
“It’s not working!” I yelled.
“There’s a green button on the side,” Vexler said in her maddeningly calm voice. I could barely hear what she was saying over the ruckus. “Push it three times and try again.”
I searched the side of the engine and found the button.
“One, two, three,” I said as I pushed it three times.
“We’re out of time, Jenny!” Barker yelled. He was like a wall in front of me, blocking the brunt of the hoses, but it didn’t matter.
The mouth of the Snerb had landed on the floor with Barker and me inside. It was dark in there, but I could still see the teeth as they scraped across the floor.
I grabbed the starter handle again and pulled the cord as hard as I could!
I heard a snap.
“Oh no,” I said.
Unfortunately, I’d pulled the cord right out of the engine. The end of the rope dangled at my feet as one of the teeth touched my shoe. But the engine made a series of sounds—glug glug pop bing pow—ROooOOaaaAARRR!
The engine was going again!
“Here comes dessert, Snerbo!” Barker yelled as he blasted gobs of thick smog straight up into the mouth of the beast.
The Snerb’s mouth opened wide and lolled upward, drinking in gobs of toxic waste.
“It might be best if you run,” Vexler advised through the bullhorn.
The Snerb-O-Matic started sputtering, delivering less fog garbage than it had before, but Barker had reached the enormous round door. Then I lost sight of him. Actually, I lost sight of everyone. Fen Stenson, Barker Mifflin, Dr. Vexler—they all vanished. The last to go was the Snerb, through the gargantuan door, following what little smog there was left to eat.
The round door rolled nearly closed. There was only a small gap left where soft light spilled out onto the warehouse floor. I was all alone, but I wasn’t free.
The Snerb was still attached to my armpit.
And the Snerb was pulling.