6~
The offenders, two drop-outs from Darrow University, led the police on a merry chase on foot through the neighborhoods of graffiti-scrawled, boarded-up, and looted shops.
Most of Crystal Cove still had it composure, reflected in such places as the intact residential areas, although some of the homes, too, had been abandoned by owners and families who decided to take their chances outside of town to look for vanished loved ones.
Downtown showed the opposite. By dint and reminder of the services they provided: local government and businesses were easy targets to those with an inclination for selfishness, who were drawn to the opportunities and settings such feelings sought out.
Thus, the sheriff had his hands full, finding, chasing down, and arresting the disaffected and the downright criminal, while his wife and her administration did all the could to calm the anxious populace down, just so the ones that decided that an end-of-the-world, looter mentality could see reason.
The two looters had cut through an alley, and were heading for the mouth on the other side, when a force of muscle pulled one of the criminals from the alley faster than he could react.
Sheriff Stone used the momentum of the youth's run to slam him into the side of a car parked by the alley exit, whereby, he was immediately handcuffed and left sitting, winded on the curb. His partner was similarly captured and restrained by a deputy.
"Man, I haven't worked this hard since I was a lowly deputy!" Stone exclaimed. "It's like herding cats, out here!"
He turned to his deputy, asking, "Is there anything coming in on the radio?"
"Another kidnapping," the officer reported.
"That's three for three," the sheriff sighed. "Okay, call the wagon to pick up this brain trust, and then we'll check it out."
"I'm glad that I get a second chance to get to know you guys," Velma said, leaning back from the front passenger seat of Marcie's car, to address Daisy, Jason, and Red, seated in the back. "I didn't really get one since we were running for our lives, a little over a century ago."
"Time is funny that way," Marcie said, offhandedly, making a turn from an artery of traffic.
"Okay, I sort of, know you," Velma said to Daisy, pointing to her. "You're one of Daphne's sisters. Daisy, isn't it?"
The Blake sister nodded. "Yep."
Velma pointed to Red, next. "I'm sorry that I didn't remember your name. Things were pretty hectic when we met."
"No problem. The name's Red," he shrugged, giving his thick arm a flex and posing, cockily. "It might not look it, but I make this team run."
"What he means to say is that he makes the team's vehicles run," Daisy said to her, deflated his ego, with a grin.
"Team?" asked Velma.
"Yeah," Daisy continued. "We, kind of, get together and solve the odd mystery or two. Marcie, sort of, got us started on that."
Velma widened her eyes in surprise and turned back to Marcie. "Really? Marcie, I'm impressed! I guess all of those mystery games we played as little girls, finally, rubbed off on you, huh?"
"Oh, yeah. Just ask around town, Velma. People think that we're amateur sleuths, now. It's a pretty cool." Daisy said.
"It's no big deal," Marcie said, trying to play it off. "They just helped keep my mind sharp, and inspired me to, ultimately, look for you, that's all."
Velma gave her friend a proud smile. "And gave you the agency to right wrongs and make sense of the senseless. Is that why you're heading for the Botanical Gardens?"
"Yep. Red found some seeds in Greenman's guest quarters in Quest's lab. We're going to see what they are, so we might know what Greenman's going with them."
"Hey, Velma," Jason interjected from the group, blushing hotly. "You remember me, don't you?"
"Oh, yeah. Hi, Jason," Dinkley nodded to him, mildly. "Are you part of this team, too?"
"Oh, yeah! Not to impress you, or anything, but it was my skill that cracked the code to infiltrating Dr. Quest's lair," he said, coyly, not believing that she was interested in talking to him, and Marcie, for once, wasn't running interference.
He thought that too soon, as Marcie interjected, herself, saying, "Almost by accident, he neglected to say, since he admitted, soon after, that computer programming is not his forte."
"That's not fair, Marcie!" Jason groused, his hopes of initially impressing Velma, sufficiently, dashed. "I got the info out, didn't I? It doesn't, exactly, matter how I did it."
"Here we are, gang," Marcie announced, coming up to the towering, glass architecture of the Gardens, and maneuvering into its parking lot.
The gang disregarded the earthy scents and warm humidity of the building's grand hothouse and display area, as they walked to a lab coated worker tending to a gigantic Venus Fly-Trap.
The worker turned to them upon hearing their approach. "Hello, how may I help you?"
"Are you Doctor Jarreau?" Marcie asked the man, who answered in the affirmative. "I'm Marcie Fleach. I called here, this morning, to ask you if you could see something for us."
"Ah, yes. What do you have for me?"
Red took out a matchbox from his vest pocket, making the doctor jump back and wail in fright.
"Put those away! Don't you know what fire could do to a place like this?" the doctor railed. "Millions of dollars of rare species could be gone in a flash!"
"Hey! Take it easy!" Red placated. "It's where I kept the seeds. Look."
He slid open the cardboard box, turned it over, and let the seeds fall out, to be caught in the palm of his other hand.
With a deep sigh of relief, Doctor Jarreau accepted the seeds and then, said, "Come with me to the Seed Room. I can identify them, there."
Following the botanist out of the hothouse, they entered a smaller room walled with shelves that displayed Plexiglas cases of various species of preserved seeds, leading up to a table that held a large book titled 'Indices Seminae,' next to a magnifying lens built into a lamp.
Jarreau sat there, carefully peering at the lamp-lit seeds, studying its physical details, while he, occasionally, perused the illustrated contents of the book for a match.
The gang gathered behind him, as he straightened upon finding a correlation.
"Ah, good, the Seed List has them. I believe I've found your seeds," he said, before giving a low whistle in surprise. "Where did you get these from?"
"Uh, we found them under a desk," Red admitted. "Why?"
"Because, whoever had seeds better be glad that he didn't have the tree that came with them. These seeds come from the fruit of the Manchineel tree."
"That's bad, because?" Jason asked.
"It's one of the most poisonous trees on this planet." the doctor explained. "It has very, very strong toxins, some of them still unidentified. Its sap contains a serious skin irritant. Heck, just standing underneath it in a rainstorm will cause your skin to blister, all over, if the water mixes with the sap."
"Well, can you burn it, if it's so dangerous?" Daisy asked.
"No," said the doctor. "It's so toxic, it'll blind anyone, if the smoke reaches the eyes. I don't know who would be playing around with this species, but whoever it is, he or she is in a world of trouble."
"Because of the tree?"
"More than that. The tree's not only dangerous, it's endangered. It's protected in its natural habit, Florida, so I don't know how your friend got a hold of it, or why he or she would even have it."
"Oh, I think I've got a theory," Marcie muttered to her friends. "But, to put it to the test, I think we better pay a visit to Professor Hatecraft."
She turned back to the scientist. "Thank you, Doctor. You've helped us out a great deal."
"Glad to be of help," Jarreau said. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to finish feeding Alice II."
"Low on fertilizer, huh?" Red joked.
The botanist shook his head. "Not really. We're having a school field trip in a few days, and we don't want her having any more...incidents."
In the hallway of Darrow University's Psychology Building, the gang passed by their fourth deputy on their way to the cluttered office of H. P. Hatecraft.
When they reached its open doorway, they saw that Sheriff Stone and another deputy was picking around the shelves of old tomes, exotic trinkets and reliquaries that covered the walls, for clues.
"What happened, Sheriff?" Marcie asked. "May we speak to Professor Hatecraft?"
"Professor Hatecraft isn't here," Stone told her. "The dean says that he and his teaching assistant haven't been in class, so we're treating this as a missing persons case, the third one, today. The professionals are here, now, so why don't you go look for lost pocket protectors, or something."
"Wow, you leave town for almost a hundred years and some things never change," Velma said, offhandedly.
While the police continued to comb for leads, Marcie, herself, glanced around for clues, and saw an open book on Hatecraft's desk, turned so that someone could read it, if they entered the office. The page was espousing on the Roman Empire, but it was the picture dominating the page that rang in her, an exterior shot of the Roman Coliseum.
"The sheriff's right, guys," Marcie spoke up, walking back to the doorway. "It's obvious that he has this case in hand. We better not disturb him, and just leave."
The rest of the gang looked perplexed at her change of heart, but the subtle twitch of her head, in the direction of the hall, convinced them to acquiesce and follow her out.
A skull on a small table caught Stone's attention, and he picked it up.
Immediately, its eye sockets glowed and a sepulchral voice hissed from its maw. "I foresee one of your children becoming a ballet dancer!"
The sheriff shrugged, confidently. "Unlikely, Mr. Bones."
"And she will be very talented at it," the skull finished.
"She?" he gasped. "Noooo!"
"What's going on, Marcie?" Red asked, as they left the Psychology building. "Why didn't you want to check the office for clues?"
"Because, I think we have all we need, Red," she said, heading back to The Clue Cruiser. "The professor left us our best clue, yet, guys, to find not only the missing people, but Greenman, as well."
"So, where to, now?" Velma asked.
"To Crystal Cove Stadium."
The VW was left parked in the vast, deserted parking lot of that universe's Aerodrome Stadium, colloquially known as Crystal Cove Stadium, while the teens ran, not to the front entrance of the massive, domed edifice, but around to the loading docks and service entrances, in the rear.
With practiced applications of Marcie's acid and Quick Keys, they wend their way deep into the corridors of the building, emerging into the inner arcade of the stadium's main concourse.
Jason suddenly froze. "Do you hear that? It's up ahead!"
Off to the inward side of the concourse, coming from one of the wide archways leading into the central sports arena, the gang stopped skulking, and heard cheering.
Quietly, they approached and entered the cavernous portal, the cheers growing louder, so loud, in fact, that they didn't hear two armed men come up behind them.
"Alright, you kids, why did you leave the university?" Stone barked, marching up to the badly startled group before they went any further.
"Shh!" the teens hissed and shushed, frantically, fearful that their position was given away.
"Don't you shush me!" Stone said, indignantly, yet quieter.
"What are you doing here?" Daisy asked. "You followed us?"
Marcie had to admire the man. "That's pretty impressive, Sheriff. How did you know to do that?"
"You forget that I'm a father, the sheriff said, easily. "I don't trust my own kids, half the time, so what made you think I'd trust you when you didn't stay to give me trouble, like you normally do? I knew that you knew something about the kidnappings, so I followed you."
"Whoa," Red said, leaning against one of the walls of the entrance and giving him a condescending look. "Don't break your shoulder patting yourself on the back, Stone."
"That's Sheriff Stone, to you, Carrot Top," Stone bristled.
"That's always puzzled me," Velma suddenly pondered. "Shouldn't the top of a carrot be green?"
"Never mind!" the sheriff yelled in vexation. "You all have a civic duty not to hide anything that you know from me. If you do, that's obstructing justice, however, if you assist me now, I may show you leniency!"
"We're not causing trouble, here, Sheriff, you know that," Daisy told him, hoping he didn't fly completely off the handle, and arrest them for just standing, there. "We were just moving on a major hunch that might help everybody. We would've told you, but what if we were wrong. At least, if you stayed at the university, you might have found something that we could have missed, in the office."
Whether it was because she was successfully sincere, or because he didn't need the aggravation that came with locking up a Blake, Stone, fortunately, took her at her word, which, strangely, didn't make the lawman feel any better.
"All right, I believe you, but only because this wasn't another crank call," he said to them.
"You've been getting a lot of them?" asked Velma.
"Six, today," Stone's deputy, Carlton, told her. "And, we're duty-bound to respond to them."
"If we keep chasing these false alarms, we'll be too worn out to deal with any real crimes!" Stone complained, rightly.
"Maybe that's the plan," Velma pondered.
"Come again?" he asked, perplexed.
"The civil unrest we've been having, these false alarms, and now, the kidnappings? Each one covers the other, too neatly. I think somebody wants to keep you preoccupied?"
"It makes sense," Marcie added, thoughtfully. "Especially if that somebody is benefiting from the chaos."
"Greenman?" Velma asked, knowingly.
"Quit reading my mind," Marcie smirked.
"Greenman?" the sheriff asked. "You mean that hippy that made that broadcast a while ago? How is he mixed up in all of this?"
"His Majesty will be more than happy to answer all of your questions, once I take you to see him," a man said, holding a gun at the group.
"Well, it's about time," Marcie said, turning around to face the arena, and allowing herself to be led, like the others, out onto it.
The arena was a football field, well-lit under its vast, high-domed ceiling, as the group was led, at gun point, across its expanse.
Mounted high above them, was a Jumbotron, its massive screen dark, while along the end zone of both sides of the field were unmanned television cameras that made the captives wonder if they were to be used to film their last moments.
Ahead of them, from one of the oval arena's two lengthiest sides, sat a raised structure built from the closest, most central seating on that side of the field, a high-roofed, well-carpentered luxury seating box, draped on all sides with gleaming white linen and adorned with gold lame sashes.
On the face of the box was a printed image of a green face, bearded with ivy and crowned with a full head of leaves for hair.
Although there were luxury seats and expensive viewing suites high over the tiers of bleachers, the 'Emperor's Box,' afforded the occupant a masterful view of the field, quite close to the action, yet still high enough to enjoy that action from above, safely.
Seated on both sides of the Box, were small groups of people, and though nothing was happening out on the field, they gave a continuous cheer.
"Who are they?" Velma asked Jason, who was close by.
"Questoids, all of them, like the one behind us."
Velma gave a pensive glance back at their guard. "Those robots you talked about on the way, here? Are you sure?"
"Oh, yeah!" he nodded with experienced authority. "They've got the Uncanny Valley written all over them."
From the dark interior of the Box, someone stirred into standing, coming into the light with a crystal, wine-filled goblet in one hand, gesturing, broadly, with a confident grin to match.
"Ah, entertainment fit for...me!" Greenman exclaimed down upon his visitors, cheerily. "You know, Marcie, your father might have had more success in his park, if he had attractions like this! Welcome to my coliseum!"
"That you booked for about a week, according to the receipt we found in your quarters in Quest's lab," Marcie spoke up, ignoring his taunts. "So, you're an emperor, now? Well, you've got the megalomania down pat! I see that your wind-up audience is here, too. Boy, you couldn't steal them from Quest fast enough, huh?"
"I think I can put them to better use, but don't mind them," Greenman dismissed. "Now, that I have control of poor Quest's laboratory, I'll have them make even more Questoids to fight and serve as my personal guard. Ah! If only I had them when I was conquering the ancient world, it would have fallen in my hands so much sooner than it did."
"You must be Greenman," Velma replied. "My friend, Marcie's, has been telling me a lot about you, most of it, bad."
"And you must be Velma. Marcie's told me a bit about you, too, especially when the sodium pentathol kicked in," he countered.
"It's a good bet that the people your Questoids kidnapped are here, so why are we watching a bad reenactment of Gladiator?" Marcie resumed.
"Why, for the same reason my Questoids are here. They're cheering because they're under the impression that you fools are going to provide some sport, in the arena, today, and you know what? You are. You see, I took a page from the hated Romans on how to run a decent event. You will all be the warm-up, before I present the televised first part of my devotions to my traditionalist followers, around the world!"
Stone, who didn't understand one iota of what was transpiring before him, reacted the way he always did when he couldn't wrap his mind around something. He yelled.
"Look here, nut job! I'm Sheriff Bronson Stone, and I'm placing you under arrest for kidnapping, allowing freaky robot scum to walk around the city limits, and running a totally inauthentic Roman coliseum. I mean, where are the lions and gladiators fighting in pitched battle with desperate, condemned men?"
Greenman mockingly considered. "Hmm, well, I see the condemned before me, but it's true that I don't have beasts and warriors to fight for my amusement."
He brought a fist over the goblet he was holding in the other hand, opened it, and released what looked to be three seeds from that hand.
The seeds descended into the wine, and then, he poured the libation onto the turf, below.
The seeds sank deep into the wine-soaked ground, on their own volition, and moments later, the moist soil began to be upturned, large things had germinated within the earth, and now, crawling their way out.
"I suppose they'll have to do," Greenman said, casually, as a green, grim-looking, humanoid, and a pair of quadrupeds dug and tore their way to the surface, shedding the ground from their newborn bodies.
In the overhead light, the warrior's alien features were on full display to be looked on with utter incredulity.
The humanoid stood on splayed, rooted feet, with a large, heavy body of twisted, wooden growth, sheathed in broad, moist foliage. Its head was a large bulb, high-collared with wide leaves in the back, and marked with a pattern that suggested a simply drawn 'T' for a face, which was eye-less, yet seemed to focus on the captives' location.
Its appearance was strange enough, but it soon ventured into the bellicose, when they saw the arms the monster bore.
One wasn't an arm, at all, but another bulb attached at the shoulder, ending in a draping tangle of three fully-articulated tendrils, thick and curling with strength.
The other arm, however, was a jointed bough, whose 'forearm' tapered into a long, flat, sword-like thorn, kept healthy through an umbilical of two roots wrapped around the 'upper arm.'
While the bulb-arm looked to be a manipulator, of sorts, the other specialized appendage looked as though it was meant for a single task: to impale.
Shaking loose soil free from their fern-like manes, and pacing with restless fervor beside the creature, were two large, dog-like specimens of plant life, bosky and entwined with vines that coiled along their bodies, like exposed sinew, and served a similar purpose. Impossible growls escaped from their thorn-toothed muzzles, while sightless heads aimed their hunger and ire at the people in the arena.
"Know you adversaries, my captives!" Greenman called forth. "This is my Thorn Soldier and his Herb Hounds. Creations, newly given to me, from the hand of my namesake! They will tear you asunder before my gods and the world."
"B-But...I'm t-too young to be as...s...sundered!" blubbered Jason, fearing that he would lose control of his body at any minute.
The so-called emperor chuckled darkly at him. "Believe it or not, I once faced conscripts of the enemy not much older than all of you, boy, and they all came away with a great truth. If you feel that you're old enough to oppose me, then you're never too young to die!"
The Thorn Soldier turned from his targets and faced Greenman, raising his sword-arm, respectfully, while his Hounds howled.
With an air of regal casualness, Greenman gave the creature a nod and a wave to proceed.
It turned back to the group, swinging his thorn sword in swiping, chopping motions as it approached, his beasts flanking him, warily.
"I think that's our cue," Velma muttered, backing away with the rest.
"Are there any exits?" Daisy asked the party.
Looking around the arena, they could see other archways, but they were all guarded by Questoids.
"We're closed off!" Red said. "We might have to duke it out, gang. Funny, I never punched a plant before, well, at least, not in anger."
"Well, we might stand a chance if we all stick together," Marcie counseled.
"Oh, are we going to sing campfire songs, too?" Stone quipped, but the fear still edged out.
"No, we cover each other," Velma clarified.
"Forget that! We've got to get out of here, Sheriff! C'mon!" Carlton suddenly called out, breaking from the group and running towards one of the guarded passages that led from the arena.
"Carlton, where are you going?" Stone bellowed, as the two Hounds, without preamble, tore off after their prey. "Come back here! You don't leave your leader behind!"
Carlton huffed, hard, brandishing his service weapon in an attempt to shoot his way through the Questoid gauntlet. The guards, seeing his panicked approach, were motionless and confident. The human wouldn't get far.
Carlton raised his gun, knowing that his aim would be too shaky to serve him, but the heady cocktail of terror and self-preservation had him wasting shot after missed and reckless shot into the molding and finish of the exit's threshold.
The warning click of his spent revolver forced him to stop and fumble for more ammunition to load it.
That was when an impact exploded into his back and lifted him off his feet, making him tumble, face-first, into the turf, the gun bouncing from him.
He gathered his wits and oriented himself on his hands and knees, his already ragged breath gasped away, as he watched the two plant-beasts circling around him, frighteningly close, sizing him up with every pass.
Sore, defenseless, and scared out of his training and composure, Carlton whimpered, as he slowly stood up, feeling every bit the prey that the hunters saw him as.
Before he could wonder why they even allowed him to stand, one Hound pounced on the wailing deputy, and tore him down to the ground, followed, with zeal, by its partner.
The Questoids in the bleachers gave standing ovations and cheered their loudest, yet, while the ones nearest the take down watched the deputy's gradual passing with emotionless eyes.
The group saw the grisly attack in stunned horror, while a desire to help the stricken man, and a need to stay put, fought for dominance in their minds.
"Can someone tell me what the heck is going on?" the sheriff exclaimed, helplessly. "Looters and kidnappers, I can handle, but nothing in the Sheriff's Handbook said anything about killer robots and plant monsters!"
"Get a grip, Stone!" Red told him. "It's harsh, man, but he's buyin' us time. Don't waste it by freakin' out."
"He's right!" Daisy said, fighting to keep her own fear in check. "We've got to think, gang! What have we got?"
"I've got my chemicals," Marcie offered. "I've got my capsules, too, but the ground's too soft to use them."
Velma looked on Marcie with hope. "What kind of chemicals do you have?"
"Two flasks of acid and two Quick Key bulbs. The usual."
"You carry all that with you?"
"Hey, a girl never knows what she'll run into," Marcie shrugged. "I only wish I could carry more stuff."
"Okay," Velma nodded, and then, called out to the rest of the group, "Huddle up!" They gathered around her, at once.
After a quick and animated conference on the Fifty Yard line, the group, at last, broke away, with a clap.
Marcie and Velma gave worrying glances at each other, as Marcie handed her one of her Quick Key bulbs, hoping that they would survive this, after just getting back together.
Then, they all faced the opposing team.
