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“Everyone get to the car,” Avery said. “There isn’t a silicone chip to be found in Ramona. I built her from the ground up. It’s all pistons and gas.”
Duncan was stu
The family raced to Avery’s Mustang and hopped inside. Avery turned over the engine and soon they were backing out of the driveway just as another missile launched from the roof. It narrowly missed them, allowing the family to tear off down the street.
Duncan spun around in his seat only to see that Mama was hopping into her own car.
“Don’t worry,” Avery said. “We’re safe. Ramona is one hundred percent computer free.”
“I’m not worried about our car, Avery. I’m worried about all the others,” Aiah cried as a brand new electric car rolled out of its driveway on a collision course with them. Avery swerved in the nick of time, but more cars under Ms. Nesbitt’s control rolled onto the road to give chase. Duncan’s father slammed his foot on the gas and Ramona took off with a jolt. He handled the car like a seasoned NASCAR driver, turning down alleys and racing past highway entrances and along the river—doing everything he could to keep the family safe.
“I can’t believe our neighbor is trying to kill us! Is this because we asked her to trim her hedges?” Avery cried.
“Can’t you use any of your goofy spy stuff to help?” the Creature cried.
Duncan shook his head. “Dad took me off the team,” he said. “I don’t have any of my old abilities.” He thought about what he would do with his nanobytes. He’d crawl out of the window, leap from car to car, and snatch the weapon out of that crazy woman’s hand. If only he had his nanobytes.
And then Jackson’s face flashed in his mind. “Man up, Duncan.”
He knew exactly what he had to do.
“Dad, try to hold the car steady,” Duncan said as he rolled down the back window.
“Why? What are you going to do?” Avery said.
“It just dawned on me, Dad. I may not fit in with this family, but I’m still a member, and no one messes with the Deweys!” Duncan replied, then squeezed out of the speeding car before his mother could grab his ankle and stop him. The wind was fierce, and even before he got to his feet, he felt as if he might fall. He knew what he was doing was not the action of a sane person, but what other choice did he have? The world was full of technology and Albert’s mother could control it until she killed them all. He was just hoping his hands and feet remembered how nimble they could be, sticky or not.
He stood swaying on the trunk of his dad’s car, then, taking a deep breath, he leaped onto the hood of the car right behind them. He scampered over the roof and onto the trunk before bracing himself and then taking another leap. On the next car he did the same, only this time his foot sank into the car’s soft top. It was a convertible! He pulled his foot free, then slid down onto the trunk, standing again to leap onto the hood of the truck right behind him. Duncan took a bad landing and could feel himself sliding off the front of the truck. He just managed to snatch the grill with his fingers. The metal dug into his skin, hurting more than anything he had ever imagined. What he wouldn’t have given for some sticky hands right then! With his feet skidding on the pavement under the truck, he managed to pull himself up and onto the hood again. He scrambled over the cab of the truck and then down into the bed. There he found several potted plants . . . and Ms. Nesbitt’s car directly behind him.
Through her windshield he could see her maniacal face. Even Simon didn’t have that kind of evil in his eyes. He hefted up a potted plant and tossed it at Ms. Nesbitt’s car. It crashed down hard on her hood and exploded with shards of ceramic and clods of soil. She swerved and nearly drove into a ditch before she righted the car. Soon, she returned to her fevered pursuit.
Duncan took another pot and tossed it. This one missed and smashed on the highway. He bent over for another, only to feel the truck screech to a halt. Duncan fell into the bed, slamming into the cab, then ricocheting out the back. He landed right on the hood of Ms. Nesbitt’s car.
The two locked eyes, and Ms. Nesbitt threw her car into reverse and gu
Duncan reached his hand into the open window, hoping to snatch the ray gun, but Ms. Nesbitt pulled it away.
“You know, you can forget having me mow your lawn anymore, lady!” Duncan shouted.
Frustrated, he pulled the wiper blade off and used it to swat at the woman as she drove. All it did was further aggravate her, and she turned the car into oncoming traffic, all the while firing the ray gun so that cars weaved out of her way.
“You’re not going to stop my Albert!” she cried as she gu
When his father pulled over, Duncan hopped off of the car. “Stay here,” he told his family.
Mama had climbed out and was still shaken, but Duncan could see that she was quickly recovering. She leveled the ray gun at a sports car nearby, but before she could send her computer virus, Duncan snatched the weapon from her hand. He eyed it with a grudging admiration. He could see it was a simple design, but the circuitry inside was the true genius. He could have studied it all day, but the woman was already grabbing for it. He knew what he had to do. He tossed it to the ground and stomped on it hard. The ray gun was destroyed.
“This isn’t over,” she said, shaking a finger at him. Then she ran over to a nearby pickup truck, yanked the driver out of his seat, hopped in, and drove away.
Duncan’s family caught up to him as he watched her go.
“Is there anything you want to tell us about the rest of our neighbors?” Avery said.
Albert put on his new work uniform and studied himself in the mirror. The furry costume with its big fluffy tail was humiliating and made it impossible to sit down. But it was nothing compared to the giant buckteeth, attached by a string that wrapped around his mouth. Mama had simply refused and the goon wasn’t even asked. How did he wind up being the only one following the new dress code?
He shrugged and studied the new designs for the giant ray gun. With just enough diamonds in their possession, the next step was finding the microchips. To process the information needed for the ray, he would need millions of them. Where was he going to get them?
He had telephoned every microchip manufacturer in the world and no one could sell him nearly enough. Even when you added together the three largest manufacturers—the United States, China, and India—he still could not get a tenth of what he needed. It wasn’t a matter of cost. Simon had unlimited resources from all the banks he had robbed, not to mention the countless identities he had swiped using the ray gun on the Internet. There simply weren’t enough chips in the world.