The Giant Smugglers Read online

  Hank leaned forward on the throttle, about to open it all the way, when he looked up and hesitated. Looking in the giant’s huge eyes, he saw that Jamie was still little more than a frightened kid. The old man growled and cursed himself for going soft.

  He set the emergency brake and reached across Powder to open the far door. “Go on, girl!” Powder flew out, bounced off the back tire, and hit the ground running through the pouring rain.

  Hank turned back to Fitzgibbons and pulled open the accordion door. “You control that monster of yours, because if you can’t, I swear to God I will.” Then Hank followed Powder out of the cab. He strained to lower himself to the ground, his bad hip almost giving way as he landed. Duster flapping in the wind, he limped away from the end loader. Powder growled at Giant Jamie’s feet, ready to attack again.

  “Let’s go, girl.” Hank slapped his thigh, and the two of them set off through the quarry, back to the old man’s truck.

  Fitzgibbons took Hank’s seat at the end loader controls, trying to determine which lever did what. He found the one that backed the bucket off just enough to allow his son to breathe easier.

  “Let me go!” Giant Jamie screamed, even angrier now that his father was at the controls. He strained against the parked end loader.

  “I will let you go—if you just calm down and listen to me. We have to get out of here. It’s dangerous for you to be out in the open—especially here.”

  “Dangerous?” Giant Jamie laughed through gritted teeth. “Look at me! I’m freaking huge!”

  “I’m sure Barton has gone to Accelerton already,” said Fitzgibbons, ignoring the wild look in his son’s eyes. “We’ve already called in one man, a professional soldier. If he finds you, they’ll harvest your blood a drop at a time for the rest of your life. You have to believe me.”

  Hot air seethed from Giant Jamie’s nostrils as the violent expression left his eyes. “Okay,” he relented. “I did what I came to do. Let’s get out of here.”

  Relieved, Fitzgibbons pulled the bucket back. Giant Jamie extended his leg and found the leverage he needed to shove the machine out of his way. Fitzgibbons bailed out of the cab just before the end loader tipped over and landed with a heavy crash. Giant Jamie stalked the wet, rocky ground through the driving rain, searching the quarry for Hank and Powder.

  Fitzgibbons pulled himself out of the mud and blocked his son’s path. “We had a deal! You said you’d leave with me!”

  “It’s like you always said, Dad.” Giant Jamie stepped over his father like he wasn’t there, trying to spot the old man and his dog. He owed them a serious beatdown. “Refuse to lose!”

  Giant Jamie’s head snapped around as the warning siren from the office trailer sounded. The high whine hurt his newly sensitive ears. Holding his hands on the sides of his head, he raced toward the sheet-metal office shack. The shabby structure shook in the high winds. “You should have never let me go, old man!” he shouted. “Big mistake!” Raising his muddy foot high in the air, he brought it down on the office trailer. It crumpled like a soda can as the siren bleated out.

  From the hillside, Hank dropped his thumb on the detonator and the office trailer exploded.

  The blast sent pieces of jagged metal spinning through the air in all directions and knocked Fitzgibbons from his feet. A fireball enveloped Giant Jamie. His wild slaps failed to extinguish the flames, which burned even in the pouring rain.

  Fitzgibbons tried to stand, but a shard of metal had lodged in his leg. He grimaced in pain and fell back to the ground.

  His enormous son rolled back and forth on the quarry floor to extinguish the flames. When Giant Jamie rose, a long cut stretched under his left eye and his blue hospital gown was littered with burn holes. He loped away, screaming, “You’re going to pay, old man!”

  Hank was breathing hard, nearly to his truck at the top of the cliff. He cursed his arthritic hip. Powder could have been long gone, but she refused to leave her master’s side.

  Giant Jamie’s forehead peeked up over the rock face, his incredibly large fingers digging into the hillside. “First you stopped me from getting Lawson, then it was Stinky!” He vaulted up to high ground. “But you’re never going to get in my way again!”

  Powder turned and barked at the giant, but Hank reached down and grabbed her collar. “Powder, go home!” he commanded. He let go and waited for her to run, but Powder wouldn’t leave his side. “I said go home!” The dog still wouldn’t obey. So he scooped her up and the two of them dove into the truck cab.

  Two giant feet appeared in front of the truck. There would be no escape. Powder licked Hank’s cheek as a monstrous heel came crashing down on the cab.

  23

  Bursts of forty-mile-an-hour winds slammed against the Hummer as Charlie did his best to steer through sheets of driving rain. The storm didn’t have much of an effect on Bruce, who bolted ahead down the county highway.

  Charlie tried to keep up. He slammed the accelerator to the floor, determined to go faster. Hank had made it clear: Bruce had to get to the warehouse right away to catch his next ride. Giant Fitz wasn’t going to stop until he kicked Bruce’s butt, so this was a good time to get the heck out of town.

  C’mon, CUGoneByeBye, drive this thing!

  Experimenting with a lighter touch on the clutch, Charlie downshifted out of a turn and gained on Bruce. With a straight stretch in front of them, Charlie sped up again. The speedometer needle touched eighty miles an hour. He kept within spitting distance of the giant, who ran with his forearm raised to shield his eyes from the storm.

  Charlie chased Bruce for about another mile and approached the city limits. He wasn’t making an effort to stay out of sight, but Charlie wasn’t worried. The storm had knocked out power to all the streetlights, making it tough to see much of anything through all the rain. With most people probably holed up in their basements, Richland Center looked like a ghost town.

  Up ahead lay the sharp turn onto Haseltine Street. Now that he was getting better at shifting gears, Charlie decided to try the heel-toe maneuver—if he kept the motor’s RPM level high, he could take the corner faster. He angled his right foot onto the brake and accelerator, but his clutch work was clumsy. Frustrated, Charlie smacked the dashboard as the Hummer lost speed.

  But the failed maneuver turned out to be lucky for Charlie. A huge fallen tree blocked most of Haseltine, its branches wrapped in power lines. Charlie pounded the brakes, spun the wheel to the right, and slid across the wet pavement. Bruce hurdled the obstacle as the Hummer skidded sideways, spraying water into the air before coming to a stop right before the upended trunk’s ball of gnarled roots.

  Farther up the street, Charlie watched the giant bound up the side of the warehouse and down the elevator shaft. At least Bruce was safe for now. The boy punched the clutch and hit reverse, bumping up over the sidewalk, then moving back the way he’d come. A quick trip around the block would put the Hummer in the back alley.

  He sped down a side street. Charlie didn’t know what vehicle would come for the giant—an eighteen-wheeler?—but he figured Bruce would know his ride when he saw it.

  “Lawson!”

  Charlie’s heart sank as Giant Fitz’s bellow reverberated through the high winds. Even Hank and his end loader hadn’t been enough to hold him off. Two giant feet landed ahead of the Hummer and Charlie slammed the brakes.

  “Where’s your stinky friend?”

  Charlie wasn’t about to tell him. And he knew just the taunt to lure Fitz away. He rolled down his window and shouted, singsong style, “Try and catch me, Jamie!”

  Giant Fitz’s face creased with anger. “Game over!”

  “No, it’s not,” Charlie returned. “And you know why? Because I’m CUGoneByeBye.”

  “No way!”

  “You suck at Total Turbo! I’m better than you!” Charlie taunted. “You want to kill me? Let’s see you catch me first!” He popped the clutch, and the Hummer’s tires chirped as he sped away on the wet pavement, just out of
Giant Fitz’s lunging reach.

  Charlie blew right through a stop sign on his way toward the deserted downtown and away from Bruce. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Giant Fitz wasn’t trailing him. He’s at it again, thought Charlie, remembering the bike chase and how Fitz had outfoxed him by following him along side streets. I’m ready for you this time, you big ape. Charlie spun the Hummer onto Mills Street and waited.

  Sure enough, Giant Fitz raced around the corner one block up and stopped in the middle of the road. Blood escaped the cut under his eye and darkened the street puddles rusty red. He’d cut Charlie off. There was nowhere to run. The giant bully laughed hard enough to shake the windows of the old Farmers & Merchants Bank on the corner. “Game over!”

  Charlie punched the accelerator. He downshifted with confidence now, and the Hummer raced forward on a collision course with Giant Fitz, who raised his foot to crush the ant coming at him. But Charlie didn’t swerve. He lined up DJ’s naked-lady hood ornament with the foot Giant Fitz still had on the ground.

  Giant Fitz wasn’t expecting a direct attack. He attempted to stomp the Hummer, but it had gotten too close. He lost his balance, tripping over his own feet and belly-flopping onto the asphalt.

  The Hummer’s brake lights flickered. Charlie beeped the horn twice, just to rub it in. He glanced up into the rearview mirror. Giant Fitz had regained his balance and was after Charlie again.

  He used his superior knowledge of the Richland Center streets to lead the angry giant on a crisscross chase through downtown. As they neared Bailey’s Paint and Decorating, a screaming Giant Fitz closed in again. Charlie kept the pedal to the floor.

  And at the last possible second, he plowed the H2 right into the paint store.

  Giant Fitz skidded on the wet pavement headlong into the building. The truck barreled around the store counter, in and out of the paint mixing area, and right through the big loading door on the rear wall. Charlie cranked the wheel hard to the right. Sparks flew off the Hummer’s side panel as it scraped up against another building on the other side of the alley.

  When Giant Fitz freed himself from the paint cans and rubble, his face was covered with white primer and green house paint. “When I get my hands on you, Lawson,” he bawled through the wind, “you’ll wish you never even heard of me!”

  Charlie’s plan was working so far—they were nowhere near the warehouse now and Bruce should be free and clear—but the boy was starting to wonder how long he could hold off his giant pursuer.

  Giant Fitz chased Charlie down a straightaway heading back out of town. The speedometer climbed—seventy, seventy-five, eighty miles an hour—as Charlie barreled the Hummer through the worst storm Richland Center had ever seen. And through it all, Giant Fitz was right on his butt.

  Charlie continued to build up speed as he raced toward the river. Eighty-five miles an hour. Ninety. He prayed that no one had moved the banked wall of dirt near the dam, the one that almost got him killed the last time he ran from Fitz. If the pile was still there, it would make a perfect ramp.

  He’d have to hit the incline hard out of the corner—and the only way he’d have enough speed was the heel-toe maneuver. If he did everything right, the Hummer would fly across the river. Giant Fitz could follow, but the muck of the river bottom and whipping water would slow him down bigtime. A long shot for sure, but as far as Charlie could tell, the only shot he had.

  He glanced down at the speedometer. I need to go faster or I’ll never make it across!

  Downshifting a gear made the Hummer’s engine scream in protest as the dirt incline loomed only half a block away. The shaking speedometer needle scratched ninety-five miles an hour. Now. Charlie held his breath as he went for the heel-toe trick. His toes pressed down hard on the accelerator while he found the brake with his heel. The Hummer screeched around the corner with barely a drop in RPMs.

  The Hummer rocketed like it had been shot out of a gun, tires charging straight up the dirt pile. Giant Fitz was right behind the truck. He lunged for it with his mammoth hands.

  And then the H2 was airborne. The wheels spun with nothing to hold them back. Charlie took his foot off the gas. He peeked down at the raging water churning frothy white below him, waiting to swallow the truck whole if he didn’t make it all the way across.

  Giant Fitz stopped at the top of the ramp. He watched as the Hummer hung in the air over the river longer than should have been possible. The truck’s back tires caught the river’s edge when it landed and crashed into a patch of fire-red sumac trees on the other side. Charlie’s head banged off the roof as the Hummer skidded to a hard stop about twenty-five yards from the edge of the river.

  Back on the dirt pile, Giant Fitz lurched over and slapped his hands on his knees. He drew back up and laughed like crazy. “Awesome jump, Lawson,” he bellowed. “What did that buy you, another ten seconds? I can cross this thing in my sleep!” He hopped off the ramp onto the top of the slippery dam. There was plenty of room for a normal person to walk across, but for someone the size of Giant Fitz, the big cement barrier was more of a balance beam. He shuffled across, battling both the slick concrete surface and the roaring winds.

  Charlie struggled to unbuckle from the Hummer as blood rushed to his head. If he could squirm out of the damaged vehicle, maybe he could still escape on foot somehow. But the stupid door was jammed. Giant Fitz was nearly across the dam. Charlie slammed into the door with his elbow, even as his monstrous tormentor’s words shook the H2:

  “This is what I call my finishing move!”

  The boy closed his eyes and prepared to be squashed to death—but the blow never came. Instead, he heard a strange rumble from above. It wasn’t thunder.

  He swung his head over his shoulder and looked out the rear window. Up in the sky, a man dressed in black somehow balanced on the landing gear of a low-flying helicopter that jittered in the violent storm.

  Giant Fitz gawked up at the weird sight, forgetting about Charlie for a moment. The man in black dove off the helicopter, steel cable unspooling behind him. He came out of his dive just as he reached Giant Fitz, contorting his body and swinging around the giant in a blur. Lightweight, superstrong cable wound over Giant Fitz’s shoulder and across his chest, pinning his arms like a straitjacket. Charlie had never seen a man move that fast.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” bellowed Giant Fitz. The whirling of the chopper rotors intensified as he strained against the cables. “When I get this stuff off of me, you’re…”

  Before Giant Fitz could finish his sentence, the man pulled a stick from a harness on his back. He twisted the weapon and jabbed it into Giant Fitz’s neck. Electric blue flashed against wet flesh, and then his head convulsed. His eyes went glassy before he slumped, unconscious.

  Charlie thought this seemed like an excellent time to get out of there. With the door still stuck, he got the window down and started to crawl out.

  The man tapped an earpiece. “Take him up, Barton.” The chopper started upward, the cable hauling Giant Fitz into the air.

  The man leaped off the giant’s shoulder and hit the ground. Heavy rain beat down without mercy. The stranger strode toward Charlie, tapping the stick in his palm as the helicopter towed the lifeless giant skyward. The man’s footsteps sounded heavy and threatening as they approached through the mud. The boy wanted to run, but fear froze him in place. Without a ride, he wasn’t CUGoneByeBye. He was Charlie Lawson, and he knew he didn’t stand a chance.

  “So here’s the thing, kid. I can’t leave any loose ends.” The man’s face turned cruel. He twisted the end of his stick and pointed it at Charlie’s head.

  But something out of the corner of his eye made the man leap clear. A giant fist appeared from above, pounding a crater into the muddy ground where the man had stood a half moment before.

  Bruce shook water from his soggy mane and growled at Charlie’s attacker.

  “Looks like it’s my lucky day,” the stranger said. “Two giants for the price of one.”
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br />   “Bruce, what are you doing here?” shouted Charlie.

  He never got an answer as something like the sound of a locomotive came rushing toward them. All three of them turned and looked up at the angry night sky.

  On the other side of the dam, a funnel cloud had reached down from the heavens and was heading straight for them over the millpond. The angry twister threw mud, debris, and heavy tree branches in all directions.

  Bruce grabbed Charlie and ran for it. The driving rain was so fierce that he never saw the hunk of wood that beaned him right in the head.

  And that’s when everything went black.

  24

  Even when Charlie regained consciousness, he couldn’t seem to open his eyes. He had no way of knowing how long he’d been out of commission or whether it was day or night. He was flat on his back, resting atop a vibrating metal surface. Now and again the shaking intensified, and his head bounced up and down. At least something was cushioning the shock to his cranium. Charlie groaned as he tried to turn his head. His skull ached in a way that he’d never felt before, not even after getting kicked in the face during a fifth-grade soccer tournament.

  Reaching up to touch his aching temple, Charlie found a thick, gauzy cloth wrapped several times around his head. He had no memory of anyone fixing him up. The last thing he remembered before blacking out was the awful roar of the wind as Bruce carried him away from the dam.

  His eyelids felt bruised. When he was finally able to force them apart, he found himself in the dark. Charlie struggled to pull himself up into a sitting position, giving his eyes time to adjust to the lack of light. Eventually, he could make out the broad strokes of a long, narrow enclosure—one that was moving. He found a wall and scooted his way along until he bumped into something.

  “Charlie?”

  Charlie laughed, relieved to hear the familiar voice, low and friendly. “Bruce! Where are we?”

  “My ride,” said Bruce, matter-of-fact.