Authors: Matt Solomon

The Giant Smugglers (27 page)

BOOK: The Giant Smugglers

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But someone grabbed him by his wrist before he could fall.

“Got you,” said Tim, hoisting him back up onto the pier.

It was the middle of the night. Charlie sat at the shore end of what used to be the wooden dock, trying to shake the ache of his sore ribs and waning adrenaline. Tiger approached. She had one arm in a sling, but she still tousled his hair. It was a gesture Charlie usually hated because it made him feel like a little kid. But he didn't mind it right now.

A bark from down the beach made Charlie look up. There in the moonlight was Powder, plaster cast around her front left paw, but still managing to chase gulls on her three good legs. And sure enough, farther down the beach, he saw Hank on crutches, hobbling alongside his good friend Parran. They were getting the download from Tim and the Juice Man. The old man recognized Charlie and gave him a wave with his crutch. Charlie couldn't hear what they were saying, but Tim laughed a lot in his big horse-guffaw.

Tiger wasn't nearly as relaxed as the other giant smugglers. She stalked the sand along the edge of the water, searching its surface, smooth as glass and dark as a shadow. Charlie couldn't imagine any way the Stick could have survived the jolt he'd received, but he felt a measure of comfort knowing that the carny roughie wouldn't rest until she was sure trouble was gone for good.

Then Charlie saw the old man put two fingers in his mouth and whistle. Tiger joined the smugglers as Hank presented each of them with a package wrapped in plain brown paper. Even in the dim moonlight, Charlie knew what they were. Each package contained a handful of cylinders made of pure giant gold, enough to make each of the smugglers rich. Wertzie was stupid to have given up his share for a chance to grab it all for himself.

Juice Man approached with a bag of ice and presented it to the boy. No one had wanted to send Charlie home more than the Juice Man, but his fat-lipped smile, collateral damage from his fight with the Stick, communicated a newfound respect. Charlie took the bag and put it under his shirt, feeling the sting at first but then a numbing cold.

“Where's Wertzie?”

Juice Man laughed and jerked his thumb back in the direction of the carnival. “Hank says to keep him spinning for a while longer.”

“He's still in the Gravitron?”

“It's only been a couple of hours,” said Juice Man with a shrug.

“Are you going to call the cops?”

“I don't think so. He knows too much. Tiger will have a chat with him.”

Charlie imagined the different ways Tiger could make Wertzie sorry for what he'd done, things that would make losing a measly index finger seem like a slap on the wrist. The guy would probably be better off in jail.

“Going back up to the carnival,” said Juice Man. “Anything else you need?”

“I'm good.”

“I figured you wrong, kid.” He nudged Charlie's shoulder and patted his jacket, fat with gold. “You showed me something.” Then the bald man headed back to his truck.

Charlie allowed himself a smile. The smugglers, especially his brother, deserved their rewards. They had all been there when it counted. And in the end, Charlie had helped his friend, even if it was not at all in the way he'd planned it.

He stared up into the heavens. The blimp, so monstrous and imposing when it yanked free from the dock, was long gone. He'd watched it spirit his friend silently across the sky, swift and subtle, until it appeared to be nothing but a dot. Then it disappeared.

The whole thing felt like a dream now. Meeting Bruce, hopping the train, fighting off a giant bully and the professional thug who'd tried to stop Charlie and the other giant smugglers. He tried to imagine telling his mom, or anyone else for that matter, what had happened to him over the past few days. No one would believe him, ever. Except Adele.

He wondered if Bruce was angry with him. Charlie had gone back on their deal, after all. Leaving him alone in the shack hadn't been easy, and he didn't like the feeling.

“You really believed Wertzie when he said I called DJ?” Charlie looked up to see his brother grinning that dumb grin of his. “Come on, man. DJ?”

Charlie smiled. “I didn't want to go home.”

“When you told me what Wertzie said, I thought he might be up to something,” explained Tim. “So I stashed the gold and called his bluff. 'Course, I had no way of knowing he'd hooked up with Mr. Stick. Speaking of which.” He reached inside his own stash and held out a stick of gold to Charlie.

He just stared at it. “No way.”

“It's a college education. Or something good. You decide.”

Charlie took the gold and once again felt its cool weight in his hand. He felt weird accepting the reward; he'd never been in it for the money. Maybe he'd give it to his mom as a peace offering. He figured he had some time to figure out the right thing to do with it.

“Want a ride?” asked Tim.

“Where we going?”

“Home. You got school this week, and Mom's already plenty mad at me about the whole thing. Plus, I'm thinking about staying in Richland Center for a while.”

“For real?”

Tim reached down and helped Charlie to his feet. “Carnival life is tough, Charlie. Greasy food all the time, weirdos, never seeing your family. Most guys don't do it for more than a few seasons. Besides, I finished what I signed up for. With your help, of course.”

Charlie nodded. But he couldn't quite bring himself to leave the beach. He watched Parran and Tiger helping Hank into one of the SUVs. Soon the shore would be deserted again. “Bruce will be okay, right? Wherever we sent him off to?”

“Heck to the yeah! From what I understand, the place is a freaking paradise. Everything a giant could want.” He saw the look on Charlie's face. “Well, you know. Almost everything.”

Tim pointed just up the beach, where his truck was waiting. The two of them walked across the sand in silence. Charlie took one last look out at the gulf, breathed in warm salty air, then swung the heavy metal door open and climbed inside the truck. It smelled like elephant ears. Tim turned the key and the engine started with a loud bang. Charlie laughed. There was no way Tim's rusty old ride could make it all the way to Wisconsin, but what was one more adventure at this point?

The truck snaked its way through the quiet streets of Grand Isle, then onto a lonely stretch of highway headed north. Charlie stared out the window.

“You think I'll see him again sometime?”

Tim didn't answer right away. “No. I don't think so.”

Charlie nodded. It was the answer he expected.

Tim turned on the radio and found a station that blasted the kind of weird rock he liked. Charlie leaned his head against the cool glass of the passenger window, watching the strange Louisiana terrain, lush and otherworldly, fly past.

He was headed back to his old life in Richland Center, yes. But the past few days had taught him that the world was bigger than he'd ever thought possible. And he knew he still had a lot more to see.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Collectively, Matt & Chris would like to thank: Victoria Skurnick and everyone at Levine/Greenberg/Rostan Agency, Liz Szabla & Anna Roberto at Feiwel and Friends, Drew Niles, Amanda Veith, Joe Garden, Jeff Perry, John Urban, Frugal Muse Books &
The Onion
.

Chris would like to thank: Heather Sabin, Todd & Heather Pauls, Carter & Jackson, Camilla, Dennis, Linda, Andy, Megan, Doug, & Kathy Smith, Joe, Jan, & Kira Sabin, Matt & Shandra Fink, Alex & Kyonghui Wilson, Jerard & Calli Adler, Blake Engeldorf, Tom & Meghan Hendricks, Chris Briquelet, Ryan & Katy Pettersen, Mark & Keri Brathwaite, Rich & Kerri Modjeski, Dan & Amy Turner, Marc Schwarting, Rob & Max Wheat, Angela Keelan Martinez and Jesus, Brooke, & Shelly Dobbs, Tori Dobbs, Jym Britton, Win Sager, Dave Danielson, Adam Goodberg, Chris & Becky Henkel, Mark Murray, Mark & Karen Kampa, Shawn & Allison Quinn, Anita Serwacki, Joe Nosek, Doug Moe, Jim Johnson, Neil Spath, Tom & Lena Oberwetter, Rich Hamby, Kirk & Gabriela Bosben, Bill Jackson,
Cracked.com
, and as alwaysâeverybody at the Village Bar.

Matt sends giant hugs to Katy, Jake, Ben, and Sammi. Sky-high fives to Joe and Greeg, Judy Santacaterina and Matt Swan, the Prom Committee and all alums of Madison CSz, Jay, Yi, and Tha, Ken, Jill, Roo, and #2, Julie, Ted, and Jack, Colleen, Maddie, and Emma, Michele Laux, the Nygores, Kate Kollman, Patricia Ohania
n Lundstrom, Halsted Mencotti Bernard, Paul and Meghan, John Roach, the Mothership Connection, and childhood friends everywhere.

OUR BOOKS ARE FRIENDS FOR LIFE.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Matt Solomon
was the co-author of
Deck Z: The Titanic
, a Junior Library Guild and Scholastic Book Club selection. He is a regular contributor to
The Onion
. He lives in Madison, Wisconsin. You can sign up for email updates
here
.

Chris Pauls
has been a contributing writer for
The Onion
for over a decade. He also co-authored the novel,
Deck Z: The Titanic
with Matt Solomon. Chris lives in Middleton, Wisconsin. You can sign up for email updates
here
.

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