“Do not move,” several metallic voices said in perfect unison, “and you will not be harmed.”
The voices came from the central pod, or body, of each spider, which was propped up on legs that were about twice as tall as the kids.
“They’re mechanical spiders,” said a wide-eyed Scilla.
The pods were dome-topped metal cylinders about the size of large trash cans with rivets all over them. There were four eyes spread evenly around each pod at the base of the dome. By itself, the pod looked something like the old robots Beamer had seen pictures of from back in the 1930s and 40s.
“Long legs and a small body,” said Ghoulie. “Better that than the other way around.”
“They’re like giant daddy longlegs,” said Beamer.
“Yeah, and daddy longlegs aren’t dangerous,” said Ghoulie.
“Let’s hope these dudes aren’t either,” added Scilla.
Suddenly two legs from one of the creatures folded at the joints and clasped Scilla. “Eiiiiiiiii!” she screamed in a pitch that probably broke every glass within a mile. But all the creature did was scoot her more securely within its encircling set of spindly legs. “Let me go, you oversized bag of stilts!” she shouted and tried to escape by squeezing between the legs. The legs, however, gave her a small electric shock, and she jumped back into the middle.
“Please walk as we walk,” the creatures said as with one voice.
Scilla, being the especially stubborn sort, refused to move until the beast’s back legs shocked her into moving. She endured several shocks, yelping each time, before she finally fell into step. The creatures clanked mechanically as they moved, sometimes with squealing and scraping sounds, as if they needed oil.
“We weren’t just breaking in, you know,” Beamer said nervously to their captors. “I mean, we don’t do that sort of thing — vandalism and stuff. We just wanted to see Mr. Parker. We’ve met his sister — you know, the one in the Castle near the park. In fact, we accidentally found his train set the other day. It’s really cool.” If Beamer hoped to charm the mechanical spider, he was mistaken. The creature in the hard jacket on stilts said nothing.
“Really, you don’t need to worry about us. We’re totally harmless. Even my mom thinks so, except when I track in dirt and trigger the automatic vacuum into going nuts. And you can ignore anything my sister says about me. She’s certifiable.” The only thing Beamer heard was the clanking of the mechanical stilts. His abductor was clearly the silent type. “Incidentally, they know where we are — sort of. So, if I’m not home for dinner, you could get into a lot of trouble.”
“Hey, I bet you’d like my tree house. It’s shaped like a spaceship. Nobody ever believes us when we talk about it, but it’s really kind of magical. We get to go all over the — ”
Beamer received an electrical shock as he tripped over the driveway. Cracked and overgrown with weeds, it circled a large water fountain that looked like it hadn’t been spouting water since soon after the invention of plumbing. The far side of the driveway skirted a broad porch lined with tall columns. Something about the columns didn’t look right to Beamer. He tilted his head and studied them more carefully . . . until the back legs of his prison shocked him into walking faster. By then, though, he had figured out that the columns were set at an angle, running from a wide circle on the porch floor to a smaller circle beneath a balcony above the double front door.
That balcony was also pretty strange looking. You see, the house had a dome. Beamer thought that domes were supposed to be on top of buildings, but this one stuck out the front of the house like a pimple. The balcony was cut out of the bottom of that sideways dome. Just above the balcony, in the center of the dome, was a big round window. Suddenly, the picture clicked in Beamer’s head. “Hey, guys!” he whispered too loudly. “It’s a train! The whole front of the house is shaped like a streamlined locomotive!”
Suddenly a woman stepped onto the porch and winced in the bright sunlight. She wasn’t smiling. Actually, she had a long, lean faced that looked like it hadn’t smiled for an eon or two. The good news for her was that her face had no laugh lines. The bad news was that she had loads of frown lines.
“Hello, children,” she said in a high-pitched, whining voice. “I am Mrs. Drummond, and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that I could turn you over to the police for trespassing.” She tilted her face down to look through the upper part of her bifocals.
“As you can see we have gone to a great deal of trouble to maintain our privacy.” Tall and wiry, she wore a long, dark dress with almost no decorations, except for puffed up shoulders. Her hair was piled up in a ring on top of her head, which was held up by a long, narrow neck, reminding Beamer of those aliens you’d see in movies who had big heads tilting and turning on tiny necks.
“However, I am going to overlook your actions this time. But I warn you against repeating this intrusion. Mr. Parker is very ill. He was once a very brilliant man, as you can see from these sentry creatures he constructed long ago. Incidentally, I must ask that you tell no one of the existence of these creatures. Mr. Parker’s health is very fragile, and any undue excitement can pose a danger to him,” she added with a cold smile.
Beamer felt his face flush at the same time a chill spread down toward his feet. It hadn’t occurred to him that they might endanger the man’s health by dropping by.
She glanced up at the sentries and ordered, “See that these children leave the premises and then return to your posts.” Without another glance at the kids, she turned around and reentered the house.
Something about the way she whirled around, her head turning slower than her body like a snake pivoting about, with her arms lifted high in a gesture of dismissal, gave Beamer the brief image of a dragon with its wings spread, guarding a cave full of treasure.
About half an hour later Beamer closed his front door and turned to find a sword pointed at his chest.
“Do you yield?” a guy wearing a mask and armor asked in a gruff voice.
“Yes, Dad, I yield,” Beamer said with a sigh, pushing the plastic sword away with his finger. Why couldn’t he have a normal dad — you know, just some everyday SWAT team member or a spy for the CIA? Nope, his dad was the king of make-believe — a theater director at the local college. Naturally, he had to try out the props for each new theater production at home. Beamer had a feeling that his dad would play every part himself if he could get away with it. But then, on the positive side, his half-kid father could often make sense of what made no sense to Beamer.
While his father continued his duel with an invisible opponent, Beamer told him about his experience with Mr. Parker and Mrs. Drummond.
“Sounds like there is nothing you can do,” his father said as he put down the sword and took off his mask.
“Something doesn’t sound right, though,” Beamer said with a stiff jaw.
“Yes, but as unpleasant as the lady seems to be, she knows more about Mr. Parker’s health than you do. Now leave them alone. It is far too dangerous to pursue Mr. Parker’s situation any further. Oh,” he said, changing the subject at the same time he was changing into a helmet with bull horns sticking out on each side. “Your mother and I contacted Social Services about the boy in the trolley station. They’ve apparently known about him for some time but have never been able to find him.” He picked up a rubber battle axe and swung it around. “Can you imagine that?” he asked as Beamer ducked. “They said that they would try again — maybe bring in the police.”