2~

The father tried to wave down another car to stop and help him get back into his car, which was parked off to one side of the three miles of road that threaded its way between Gatorsburg and Crystal Cove.

The fact that he was locked out of his car at high noon didn't concern him, as much as having his baby daughter die in the backseat, due to heat stroke, did.

Fear of losing his child and fear of what his wife and family would do to him, afterwards, gave the terrified man the impetus he needed to attempt to yell and wave down another passing car, with tired arms.

Desperately, he thought of lying in the middle of the road, hoping that a driver would see him in time to stop, if not out of a desire to help, then, for the moral imperative of not turning him into a human speed bump.

He had already looked for a stone heavy enough to shatter the window of the front passenger side, but there were none to be found in all of the pine-wooded grassland on either side of the road. So, taking a deep breath, he slowly marched out onto the tarmac and rested. It felt like resigning himself to an execution, which was what was going to happen, whether he reclined on the road, or not.

The vibrations and the engine sound of an oncoming vehicle were being felt through his body, and he prayed that it would stop when the driver saw him, as they got louder and louder.

He gritted his teeth and imagined the car not stopping in time, turning his body into proverbial road kill. Such a thought made his nerves overstimulate and were on the verge of cracking.

When the car was, in the man's estimation, close enough to run him over, his nerve finally broke, and he screamed out his fear and his parental failure to the heavens, before the car stopped a good three yards from his feet.

He clenched his eyes shut preparing for the end, but instead of bones crunching and tendons shredding, he heard a woman asking, "Are you alright, mister?"

He opened his eyes to a curious thing. The woman, who stepped out of a blue car, wore a strange ensemble of dark pink boots, lighter pink tights, a white leotard, an open lab coat, and pink-lensed goggles.

"Uh, hello?" the man said. Courtesy was important, after all.

"Do you need any help, citizen?" the woman asked, after she gave what could only be described as a superheroic pose, complete with arms akimbo, the wind gently tousling her brown hair.

Then, he remember why he looked like a suicide attempt. "Oh, yeah! my baby girl's trapped in the car. I locked myself out when I went to relieve myself. Please, do you have something in your car that'll break the passenger window?"

The woman followed the man, who jogged to the car, and when she reached it with him, she said, jauntily, "No, but I do have something in…my lab coat!" She then reached into the garment.

She pulled out a bulb syringe, went to the passenger window, and squeezed a thin line of clear gel around the periphery of the window. If one looked close enough, the gel could be seen to be eating through the glass it was applied to. A few seconds later, the center section of window that was cut away from the gel, cleanly fell onto the front passenger seat as a single pane.

The man had just seen a scientific miracle played out before him, and could hear the cooing of his daughter, who didn't feel worse for wear.

"How...What was that?" he asked, incredulously.

The woman gave a proud grin and said, while pocketing the syringe, "Liquid glass cutter. Is your baby safe?"

"Yes! Yes, she is. Thank you. Thank you."

"Now, could you help me, citizen?" she asked.

He brightened at the request. "Anything you want."

"Are there any good hotels in Crystal Cove?"

He found it a strange request for an even stranger woman, but he honored it. "Yes. Try downtown."

"Thank you!" And with that, she ran back to her car and started the engine. Putting the car into gear, she began to pull away, but the man managed to call her before she passed him completely.

"Wait!" he asked. "Who are you?"

The woman stopped the car one more time, flashed her grin, and said, "Call me...Lab Rat!"

The blue car drove down the road, while the man with the rescued baby and marriage, pondered, "Lab Rat..."


The gentleman walked over to the gallery of public computers in the Crystal Cove Public Library and, when he found an unoccupied seat, sat down and booted up the computer he was assigned to.

Instead of going online, however, he stiffened one thumb and flipped opened its nail. The insertion end of a flash drive extended out, which he surreptitiously jabbed it one of the PC's USB ports. After entering its phishing program, he disconnected from the port. The monitor flickered for a moment, then image of a giant green Q appeared, along with a small bar representing the program's progress filled in seconds.

With a quiet tone, the gentleman was alerted to the success of the program. From the library files it raided, the photo, name and address of Marcie Fleach was displayed, along with any books and media she had checked out over the years.

With a quick, satisfied look, he retained her data into his memory. He logged out and was preparing to stand and begin his rather short hunt for the girl, when he felt the restraining hand of a guard on his shoulder.

"Hey. You do know that the library has a policy against using the computers in an unauthorized manner. It's obvious that you've done that. So, I'll have to escort you out and tell that you are not allowed to back here again."

The gentleman looked calmly at the hand still holding him, then said, "That's okay. I was on my way out."

He grabbed the guard by the wrist, pulled him off of his feet and flung him forward into the backs of other computer-using patrons. He then stood up and left the computer area, yet, also attracting more guards.

The patrons who witnessed the brouhaha, backed or ran away from the man who stopped his walk to assess the issue.

'Four guards, lightly armed with billyclub and baton melee weapons,' he thought. 'Surrounding in a diamond pattern to prevent escape. Since no other guards are present, combat estimation: this is the building's entire security force, also counting the man that was incapacitated earlier. Tactic: non-lethal. Aikido.'

He reached over to the closest guard, and with a whirlwind of arm motions, disarmed and knocked him senseless with his weapon. The other three cautiously moved in, baton and billyclubs brandished. With another flurry of arm movements, he disarmed and disabled the guards, either smashing them in the kneecaps, or simply rendering them unconscious.

With the people's only protection moaning on the floor or just lying on it, the library's patrons gave the gentleman was very wide berth, as he strolled out of the doors of the building and into local urban legend.


Marcie and Jason left with the other students from Mrs. Vogler's math class. In the crowded hallway, Jason asked, "Hey, Marcie, can I bum a ride of you? I lied to my mom about it, but I don't have enough money for carfare."

"Why did you lie to her?"

"I didn't want her to think that I didn't appreciate money. I do. I...just forgot that I spent most of my allowance on a new Hunter X action figure. Sorry, " he answered, looking a tad sheepish.

"Fine. You can come, but I have to make a stop first."

Jason looked pensive "A stop? Can't you just drop me off at home, first?"

"Do you mind? What am I saying? Of course, you don't mind. I mean, what would be the alternative? You walking home?" she said, with just a hint of sarcasm

A hint that he could taste. "Geez, Marcie. You don't have to be that way about it," he sulked.


The trip took a little longer than Jason was used to, and it wasn't until he saw the mountain range of junk and scrap metal up ahead, that he knew that he might be coming a little late.

"Why are going to the town dump?" he asked.

"Because I have to find something crucial to my family name and honor. Something that will exonerate the good and noble name of Fleach."

That sounded intriguing to Jason. A quest, an adventure. "What is it? A family heirloom? A keepsake?"

"Nope. It's the sabotaged speed governor of my dad's tit-a-whirl."

With the spell broken, Jason deadpanned, "Wow, that's pretty deep, Marcie."

"I'm serious, Jason. That six-foot rat Greenman-"

"The guy who invited you to dinner at his house?" Jason asked, perking up at the thought of food.

"Only you would remember anything that had to do with dinner, Jason," she sighed, then continued. "Yes, the guy who invited me to dinner. Anyway, he wrecked one of the rides, and is taking my dad's park away. I'm not going to let that happen, if I can help it. That sabotaged part can help put Greenman away and leave my dad alone."

The Clue Cruiser passed through the fenced gateway of the scrap yard, then stopped when Marcie saw Red and Daisy waiting for them.

"This isn't some all-day deal, is it, Marcie?" Red moaned. "I don't mind a good parts raid, but I've got stuff to do at the garage. Beside, it's taken everything I've got to keep Miss Blake, here, from running crazy."

Daisy waved his grousing away in a rather unconvincing imitation of someone who didn't refuse refuse, as her other sisters would say to tease her. "Oh, Red, you and your exaggerations. I'm fine, and I promise that I won't go crazy, here."

"Spoken like a true attic addict," Red said, rolling his eyes heavenward.

"I'm with you, guys. Really," Daisy maintained. "In fact, I talked with the lot's owner. He said that a truck did dump a lot of parts from something big, a little while ago."

"Was that before you asked him if he wanted to sell the place, or after?" Red asked her, as an aside.

Daisy threw up her hands "What? You would've made out just a good as I would, with free parts. Besides, I quoted him a good price, but he just wouldn't budge. Seeing this place, I guess I wouldn't blame him."

"Ugh, you sound like Greenman," Marcie grumbled.

"Who?"

"You know," Marcie sighed in reminding. She couldn't believe that they would forget a man that she just casually mentioned a mere month or so, ago. "That guy who's been pressuring my father to sell his park? Well, guess what, guys, he finally succeeded through a brilliant combination of lies, sabotage and trickery. The American business model in action, folks, and he's not even American. He's English. Anyway, we're burning daylight. Let's get moving."

The gang strolled through what passed for an entrance to the junkyard proper. Where Red saw potential for rare automotive parts, Jason, seeing a possible opportunity for electronic components from e-trash, and Marcie focused on finding the speed governor, Daisy walked into the lot, trembling with a reverence reserved only for the truly devout.

Everywhere she looked, there were possibilities that she didn't even consider, just by staring at the different piles of refuse. Mountains of scrap metal, warehouses of parts and collected glasswork, from car and various machine parts to vintage vehicle headlamps, windshields, Mason jars, ancient lamps, and classic soda bottles.

Several lifetimes of sculptures, both stationary and kinetic, and furniture could be built from the quantity and quality of the junk, alone. She gazed again at the lovely trash. All of it, resilient and simply waiting to be transformed by her talented hand.

Spotting a pair of disc brakes from a truck, Daisy sidled up to Red from behind and seductively wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders.

"You know, big guy," she said, whispering in his ear. "I could make you a really good set of weights with those disc brakes I saw back there."

The thrill of her touch was enough to stop him from walking further. His heart banged so hard in his broad chest, it felt to burst. She really didn't need to convince him of the value of this place, but he wasn't going to debate the issue.

"Uh, tell you what, Daisy," Red said, breathlessly. "If you can make one of those defibrillators from this stuff, I'd be really happy."

"Why's that?" she cooed.

"'Cuz, I think I might need it."

"Quit flirting back there," A determined Marcie, said. "We've got a part, or rather, a part of a part, to find. Now, Greenman said that he took the tilt-a-whirl apart and brought the parts here, so, hopefully, the speed governor will be here, somewhere."

After walking past both hills and peaks of junk that were crowned with squadrons of ravenous sea gulls, the gang entered the area where the lot owner's staff placed the wreck of the amusement park ride.

Upon inspection, they noticed partially intact, yet detached, arms of octopus rides still attached to their rusting cars, the corroded platforms of other tilt-a-whirls from bygone days stacked upon each other, their cars removed and rotting away, some distance away.

The dented cars of roller coasters, their paint cracked and peeling had joined their numbers, collected in a pile next to them, all of it, now home to spiders, field mice and weeds.

Faded attraction signs, lined with broken light bulbs and compromised by years of exposure, stood along the periphery of the place, making it look like a gloomy, weather-beaten parody of a carnival.

This was nothing less than a small graveyard for derelict rides and signs from amusement parks past, and to those who could recognize the cars and other parts of those once-colorful corpses, like Marcie, who grew up around them, a bittersweet nostalgia would flow into them.

She looked away from her childhood memories and studied the stacks of dismantled tilt-a-whirl platforms. Peering at the cleaner of the haphazard towers, she noticed that, like the others, each sandwiched platform had various spaces underneath, made possible by the uneven machinery underneath them. A brave, if foolish, person could squeeze into those spaces to find the sought-after device.

"There's the tilt-a-whirl platforms, and I see mine!" Marcie announced, with a point to the familiar platform in the center of the newer stack. "I'll look through it."

"If what you're looking for isn't there, then, what does it look like?" Red asked.

Marcie explained its description, then said, "I'll tell you what it isn't, however. Intact. It was cut and broken away, so, I'll be looking for the base of the part."

The gang watched as Marcie began to carefully free-climbing up the pile of junk, like an ant on a stack of pancakes. Finding her ride, she squeezed into the steely spaces underneath, keenly aware of the self-inflicted deathtrap she put herself in. One bad bump or shove that shifted the angle of the platform she was working under, might bring the ones that rested precariously on top of it, to come down, to pin, or worse, crush.

"It'll be easier if this thing was electronic," Jason said from below. "These rides are all old-fashioned with all of this clockwork construction. Too many parts, if you ask me."

Red scoffed, "Hey, buddy. Don't bad-talk good, solid machinery. There was a time when there wasn't any of that fancy wiring and computer stuff. Gearwork was the way to go. Some of those machines are still working today, with just a little maintenance, and no electronics."

"Then why are we here?" Jason countered. "Look around. They weren't all sabotaged to be where they are."

"It's because all things break down, you two," Marcie answered from within the platform. "It's a little thing called entropy, now, will you quit arguing?"

Marcie slithered, and then, swept her penlight across every gear, motor, bolt, and hydraulic pump, but when she reached the area where the governor was to be, she only found a light, bare spot where a speed governor was once bolted, in front of her.

In her frustration, Marcie thought, 'We can't give up, now. We've got to find what's left of that governor. We have to.'

But, even she knew that she couldn't stay under the ride all evening, and so, in time, Marcie had to admit defeat under the setting sun, and crawl out of the platform.

Back on the ground, Marcie thought hard about what she could have missed.

"I don't understand," she said, baffled. "If Greenman said that he took it apart, then where's my part? Where is the governor?"

Then, a flash of brilliance went through her. "Wait...he did take it apart. Completely. And he made sure that the remaining piece of the governor was taken…by him!"

"But why, Marcie?" Daisy asked.

"Because he knew I'd be looking for it." Marcie said, feeling morose. "I'm sorry I wasted your time, guys."

"That's okay," Jason said, then asked. "Hey, has anyone seen Daisy?"

The sound of feet running deeper into the junkyard answered that question for them.

"I knew it," Red muttered, shaking his head in disappointment. "I knew it."

"What?" Marcie asked the mechanic. "What did you know?"

"C'mon."


A howling cackle could be heard, echoing through the mountains of junk. However, the monotony of the heaps made it hard to pinpoint where the laughter was coming from.

It wasn't until Jason scanned the peak of one high pile of scrap, that he found the direct movement of a figure balancing on top of it.

The figure was clad in a tattered, oily cloak that loosely wrapped over the body and billowed slightly in the wind of the higher altitude. A hand with clawing fingers pointed accusingly at the people below.

"This is my world!" the voice, decidedly female, screeched to them. "I am the queen of the junkyard and every piece of scrap belongs to me, and me, alone. If you mortals wish to pass through my domain, then you'll have to pay a heavy toll." A curl of red hair peeked out from the hood of the cloak, making this odd person, immediately recognizable.

"Daisy?" Marcie called out. "Is that you? Come on down, will you? We have to move on."

The Queen replied with a proud chuckle. "There are no daisies in my garden, nerdy one, but my lands are the envy of the three kingdoms. Here, there is a picker's peace, one of purpose, creativity, and searching. Always searching..."

Marcie looked at Daisy, with concern. "Why is she acting this way?" she asked the others. "Is she hypnotized? Did the Ringleader return, somehow, to wreak vengeance?"

Of everyone there, only Red was nonplussed about the whole affair. "I've seen this before," he said, sounding like a veteran from some unnamed war. "One of my buddies went through this when we were parts raiding, one time."

"What is it?" asked Jason.

"She's junk drunk," Red said, simply, "She's not herself, right now."

Jason shook his head. "She's what?"

"Junk drunk. You know how she is around junk and stuff. She's a picker and a dumpster diver. This place is like paradise to her. She's like a kid in a candy story, and the longer she stays in here, the more junk drunk she'll get. But, she's pretty high up there. We better talk her down before she hurts herself."

"Agreed," Marcie concurred, then resumed her talk with Queen Daisy. "Uh, your majesty, what kind of toll must we pay to gain passage through your lands?"

Daisy gave the matter a royally, carefree hand. "Why, my dear, you must procure for me, a universal gear. It's size matters not, but I have a desire for it. I must have it. That is my payment."

"Okay..." Marcie fretted from that. With a lot this wide, finding a gear of any construction would be daunting. They only had so many hours of daylight left. Daisy had to come down and get sober from this.

"Hey, have you seen Red?" Jason asked, after being just as flummoxed about looking for this gear as Marcie was. Marcie glanced around, but could find no trace of the big fellow.

"Why do sit there, mortals?" asked the queen, amusedly. "Surely, the two of you could do what others could not. Find the gear and win your passage, or stay where you are, and face the terrible, hungry wrath of my...scrap dragon!"

With that, she pointed, imperiously, at a unmanned crane that stood several yards away.

Seeing the two remaining friends stay where they were, mentally formulating plans on how to get her down, Daisy gave a raucous laugh at their seeming indecision. "You are fools. I wasn't going to let you pass through my lands, even if you somehow found a universal gear. You will not enter, and you will not leave. By the time the sun sets, my scrap dragon will have eaten well."

This was punctuated by another laugh, before she was suddenly grabbed from behind. Two strong arms wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her side. She was swept up in the hug, and both figures rolled down the rusty mountainside, her arms still restrained.

Red quickly released Daisy before she crashed at the base of the junkpile, dazed. He then stood up, nearby, and dusted himself off.

"Where were you, Red?" Marcie chided him. "I thought you said that we should talk her down."

Red helped a mumbling, unsteady Daisy to her feet, and told them, "You guys were taking too long."