The Hubby Hold (IQ Testing Book 2) (13 page)

Duchie leans into the closed tailgate, shoving with both hands on the metal, trying to budge the truck wheels over the muddy ditch. She shifts her palms, then uprights, shaking her ponytail. “Forget it! Even two buff Buffos couldn’t shove this old truck, from that mud hole. We need another truck, or more heated bodies, but we don’t get more heated bodies, only billions of brain cells, instead.” She nods, scanning the truck bed. “I see equipment inside the truck bed, too, for our rescue.”

I slap my hands to the glowing red cat suit, looking fresh and pressed compared to my tired face and sweaty hair. “Okay! We walk.” I narrow my eyelashes, barely seeing the archway of the red room of mirrors. “We are about half. Right? We walk the rest of the way.”

Duchie narrows her eyelashes, seeing part of archway at the red room of mirrors, too. She also sees, some of the snakes hang from the tops of the trees. “The snakes are sleeping up ahead. They probably haven’t heard the noise, or smelled the black smoke.”

“Right! Okay! We wave the cigar, again, scaring off the snakes, as we run free, like horses.” I nod and smile. “Right?”

She frowns with worry at Ketona. She exhales, fingering the truck. “I have to drive, too. I must participate, in the current park place event, too. The snakes are the fear factor. The truck is the tool. The me-chee is the transport back, into the Cubby Hole, or I’m stuck here, within the green color tone, until no more teens advance forward or backwards, within the color chart,” she exhale, kicking the mud. Her boot toe doesn’t stick to the mud, since it slides off the glowing red electrons.

I gasp then exhale. I slap my hands to my cat suit, nodding. “No! You’re not stuck, forever. Yeah, right! Right! Ya gotta drive, too. Okay, girlfriend, we’re smart. Let’s figure out, how to dig out the truck. We could grab some branches then dug around the mud.” I walk towards the woodlands, squatting and collecting a tall tree branch. I lift it then carry it back to the truck. I drop the broken tip into the thick mud.

The mud isn’t deep, but thick.

I stir it around, side to side, shifting the mud from the back wheel. Then, the branch cracks then breaks. I exhale with depression then lift the branch and whack the truck tailgate metal, feeling somewhat better.

Citizenship Day has been terrible, overall.

Now, I understand why no one discusses it, after the event ends. No person wants to re-live their mistakes, or failures, or defeats reminding that your life is your own. No one can control it.

“Ah! I hate Citizenship Day.” I scream, shoving my hands on the tailgate of the truck with force of will power from my petite body.

The truck doesn’t move.

Duchie walks towards the woodlands, surveying the landscape. She sees the damaged tall tree, probably from a bolt of lightning, or a collision with another fallen tree.

The damaged tree tilts at 60 degrees of an angle.

Duchie swings to the truck, measuring the distance with her smart neuron, then turns and examines the damaged tree.

The tree and truck set in a diagonal position from each other.

Duchie climbs into the truck bed, saying. “There’s stuff inside the truck bed. Help me, empty the truck. I got an idea. And, look through the equipment for a chain, or a rope, or a long piece of metal, plus some tools, if present.”

I nod, climbing over the truck side, dropping onto the metal truck bed. “Dang! There’s rescue equipment in here.” I lift each object, saying. “An oxygen tank.” I push the cup over my mouth, inhaling the pure cold oxygen substance. I pull the cup from my face, giggling. I toss it into the woodlands. “We should’ve emptied the truck bed, before, driving along the dirt road. I could’ve driven a little faster…”

“Good thing, you did not, since more of truck length would be stuck inside the ditch. “Duchie tosses the long cot, the sleeping bag, and the lantern.

I lift the object, grinning. “I found some tools, a hammer, a screwdriver, and a wrench. It didn’t see a tool box, or other larger metal objects, like a chain saw…”

Duchie exhales, tossing the folding chair. “I wish we had a chain saw. That’s good set them aside for our purpose. We need them for my idea. Hurry up and empty the truck bed. I found some linked chains…”

I smile, opening the lid. “I found the food basket. Ya want some food, a drink?”

Duchie lifts then drags the heavy chains over the truck side, exhaling with both excitement and exhaustion. “Not now! Okay. I got the equipment for our newest experiment.” She leaps over the side, landing in the soft mud, sliding to the right. She flings her arms, balancing out her body.

I lower the food basket to the ground then climb over the truck siding. I stand, watching Duchie drag a long chain towards a tree inside the woodlands off the dirt road. I grab a snack from the food basket, following her.

Duchie says. “Do not eat any of the food. One, it could be ruined then ya get sick. Two, you will get sick from my new experiment. Pitch the food to the squirrels!”

I frown and skip behind Duchie, tossing the food then grab part of the chain to assist. “What we doing, here, girlfriend?” I grunt from the heavy object.

Duchie grunts and drags the chain towards the tilted tree. She stands between Ketona and the tree, fingering the object. “First, we tie one end of the chain around the tilted tree. Second, we tie the other end of the chain around both front wheels, not the front axle. The front axle could bust from the tension asserted from the pull of the tree. Then, we assist tilting the tree the rest of the way over onto its side, or flat onto the ground. The tree is currently positioned at about 60 degrees. So, any additional force moving forward will drop the tree away from us and further down onto the forest ground, or maybe, split it from the bark. I don’t know, until we finish our experiment.”

I exhale, parking both hands on my hip. “First, the tree is too heavy for us to push, along with the dang truck. Second, the truck engine is facing the tree. Any type of force advancing the truck from the mud hole would fling the truck deeper into the woodlands. We want to go in the opposite direction, towards the room of mirrors. And, the rear wheels are stuck in the mud, not the front axle. I don’t understand your proposal, or purpose, here, Duchie.”

Duchie grins and nods. “We pull and split the broken bark of the tree with sound resonance.”

“A sound resonance beam, that’s impossible, Duchie.” I examine with my neurons the tilted tree.

Duchie fingers the tree. “Sound can break glass, because, the sound wave itself breaks the glass. Ya heard, too, about a singer hitting a high note then the glass shatters inside the room. We apply that simply physics principle to the tilted tree.”

I frown with confusion. “I like your scientific idea, but we need some sound equipment, like an amplifier, an oscilloscope, a glass…”

She fingers the truck then the tree. “Naw, the truck has a stereo amplifier and a horn speaker. I going to connect the wire of the truck horn, into the stereo amplifier, then slowly turn up and then tune the sound wave, until a certain frequency hits the right acoustic resonance. Resonance means to ‘resound’, so we are going to sound the horn to resound or bound against the tilted tree. I predict the tree will nicely split right at the broken bark. The truck horn volume bongs at a third octave G-chord, so we turn the volume up about first octave A-chord, or something that imitates a piccolo note. The piccolo instrument plays at the highest frequency of sound, in a musical band…”

I exhale, shaking my wet curls. “The horn is the pitch. The chain is the force. The capture of sound wave is…”

Duchie squats, smiling and lifting the objects. “Water droplets inside the wet leaves, there are zillions of damp and wet leaves, since snakes like cool environment for sleeping. And, you said there’s a food basket. Grab the water bottles of water, too.”

I frown at the truck then the tree, and finally Duchie. “That’s a good idea in theory. Will it really work?”

“Sound travels through matter, like air, gases, liquids, and water, bottled or sea water. Loud sound has high amplitude. Amplitude is the change in pressure, as the sound wave travels through the object, the water. We’re going to increase the pressure by making the sound loud, then very loud, and finally extremely loud then the water will vibrate, like it does along the ocean from both the air and sound waves. The sound wave will hit the leaves of water, creating vibrations.

“Then, the vibrations from the water will slice, like an invisible hand saw, through the damaged wood of the tree. Then, the tree will fall down from 60 degrees towards zero degrees of an angle, flat onto the soil.” Duchie exhales. “I don’t have another idea, or the time to figure out, something else. What’da ya think about our plan?” She nods and smiles.

I exhale, nodding. “It can work.”

“First, gather all the wet leaves holding water then stuff into the broken part of the tree.”

I squat and gather leaves, standing and shoving into the old tree. “Your idea…”

“Our idea, we’re a team, here.”

“Our idea is, also, going to burst the windows, inside the truck, too, from a generated sound resonance, girlfriend.” I squat then stands, shoving more wet leaves between the broken horizontal seam of the tree.

Duchie stands, frowning with puzzlement. “You are correct. So, get the sledgehammer and bust out the front and rear window shields, since, we have to manual operate both the truck horn and the radio dials for increasing the sound wave and creating the frequency to whack down the tree. I’m going to anchor the chain ends around the tilted tree and the front wheels. When you finish bursting the windows then find the water bottles from the food basket?”

“Okay!” I nod, skipping to the tossed sledgehammer from the truck bed. I lift the handle, dragging the heavy hammer towards the truck bed. “Why does the truck have all this equipment?”

Duchie works, wrapping the chain around both the tree and the tires. “The Cubby Hole wants us to use our brain neurons, finding out the solution, instead of getting stuck, inside the park place for our ultimately defeat. The Cubby Hole is a fair and just system, if’an ya got a brain,” she grunts with the hard work.

I climb with it, inside the cab of the truck, standing on my boots, bending at the waist. I rear the sledgehammer, as best as I can, then slam it into the rear window, grunting with pain.

The window pops then shatters.

I slam the rear window for a second time with the sledgehammer, grunting with victory.

The window cracks then parts fall inside the open truck bed.

I use the smaller hand-held hammer then slam the protruding sharp glass pieces from the curved metal inside the cab. The rear window is void of jagged edges.

I exhale with the hard work then slowly lift the sledgehammer. I slam the head into the front win shield.

The front window pops then shatters, too.

I slam the sledgehammer, a second time.

Most of the front wind shield falls over the engine hood then slides down into the dirt.

I use the smaller hand-held hammer, cleaning the jagged pieces around the metal frame.

I completely understand Duchie’s plan. So, I drag the sledgehammer from the truck then locate the sleeping cot.

The cot is lightweight for one light person, during sleep time. It is a lightweight wooden frame with a cloth bed.

I lift the cot, positioning the bottom end against the driver’s seat floor mat. The top end sticks out of the rear window, which I cleaned with the sledgehammer of glass.

I roll to the side away from the cot then exit out the passenger door. I locate the sleeping bag, ripping a hole into the soft fabric. I stretch and tear the hole bigger, splitting the sleeping bag into two uneven pieces. I lay the torn pieces, inside the truck seat, along with the screwdriver.

I back step, admiring my new project, giggling. I twist to Duchie.

She has finished anchoring the chain to the tree about eight inches above the split bark seam. Duchie kneels in the mud, anchoring the other end of the chain, around the front wheels. She stands, huffing with exhaustion. She smiles. “Okay. The chain is around the tree and is extended to the front tires. The wet leaves are stuffed inside the split tree bark, looking like the tree grew a green beard. Let’s pour and soak the bottled water onto the leaves, the exposed wood, and the outer bark, so the sound wave will nicely slice through the bark completely, or at least, tilt the tree another 20 degrees, or so. Then, the truck will, literally, jump up into the air, about two feet, being dragged from the mud puddle, or we get to be…”

“It will work. We’re smarter than the tree, the truck, and the Cubby Hole.”

We pour the bottled water over the leaves, the bark, and wood then twist towards the truck.

I say and smile. “I placed the cot between the floor board of the truck and the rear window. I don’t have to guess. I understand. One of us has to hold down the truck horn for a continuous loud sound of amplification, hitting the water molecules, in a continuous motion. And, one of us has to continue to adjust the volume of the frequency upward, striking the key frequency for the right resonance, inside the stereo equipment. Both factors have to work together, or our project fails.”

Duchie nods, stopping on the passenger side of the truck. “A sleeping bag!?”

I nod and smile. “A loud amplification will cause temporary deafness, for a few seconds, at least. However, we get our bodies into position and then wrap our eardrums with the sleeping bag…”