Flat Stanley’s Worldwide Adventures #12: Escape to California (5 page)

Finally they were ready. Stanley's father said, “Stanley, I want you to be careful. Lily's safety is in your hands.”

Stanley nodded nervously. He hadn't thought of it that way before, and it made him nervous. After all, it wasn't so long ago that he'd been terrified of the wind while driving through a wind farm in Texas.

But then, too, he had put fear aside to help his friends.

Now it was time to help Lily.

Up ahead, she slowly rolled to the edge of the water, and Stanley followed. Before them, a giant wave crested and crashed. The white foam licked Stanley's feet and the bottom of the Escapist's wheels.

“Lily,” said Stanley, “you're going to have to throw me really hard to get me up in the air. It has to be like when my little brother, Arthur, threw me in Australia. Like you're throwing a boomerang.”

Lily took his hands. “Stanley,” she said, taking a deep breath, “let's blow this taco stand.” And she heaved him into the air with all her might.

Stanley spread out his arms, and the wind found him at once. It was as if he'd been hit by a rocket. “Whoa!” he cried, bursting through one wisp of cloud, and then another. Suddenly he stopped rising and leveled out.

His suit shimmered pale blue. Stanley felt a small tug on his wires and heard a triumphant squeal from below.

Stanley looked down. It took him a moment to make them out, but there they were: two tracks of white carving a path through the water. They were the wake created by Lily's wheels, skimming the surface. He tilted slightly, and the white trails began etching out a circle.

Lily Fox was kitesurfing, and Stanley was her kite.

The Great Escape

The next day, Oda Nobu saw Lily, Stanley, and their fathers off on the last ferry to Alcatraz. Nearby, reporters were already beginning to gather for Oda and Carmen's “surprise” news conference.

It was late in the afternoon, and the Bay was choppy. Stanley's edges fluttered in the wind, and his father held his hand to make sure he didn't blow away. The red, ghostly outline of the Golden Gate Bridge rose behind them as the ferry plowed toward Alcatraz.

It was less than two miles to the island, but Stanley thought the distance felt much too great for anyone to cross without a boat.

Inside the prison, they hung at the back of the group as the tour guide explained how Alcatraz was first used as a prison during the Civil War. But Stanley was too nervous to pay close attention.

Lily wore all black. Meanwhile, Stanley was wearing his flight suit beneath his clothes. Sweating, he passed mug shot after mug shot of hardened criminals who had served time on the Rock. Stanley imagined what they might say:
We never escaped. You won't either.

Finally they arrived at the cellblock that Stanley remembered from the blueprint. It was long, narrow, and lined with cells on both sides. Each tiny, broken-down cell contained nothing more than a toilet, a sink, and a small cot.

And then here it was: the cell in which America's most notorious gangster, Al “Scarface” Capone, had done his time. The door was open for visitors, just as they expected.

As the guide spoke about Capone's years at Alcatraz, Stanley's father pulled him close and whispered “Good luck.” Dr. Fox kept his eyes on the guide and then gave the hand signal: The guide was looking away. Stanley shimmied out of his baggy clothes and slipped into the cell, wearing nothing but his flight suit. He leaned his body against a back corner, his suit turning pale yellow to match the wall. With a flick of the wrist, Lily backed in behind the screen formed by Stanley's camouflaged body.

Dr. Fox leaned against the cell door, gently shutting it. The door locked with a terrible click.

And then Lily and Stanley were alone.

 

Just when Stanley thought he couldn't wait a second longer, the lights went off, right on schedule. Alcatraz was locked down for the night. The cellblock was now lit only by the eerie red glow of emergency lights.

Stanley stood and crept to the cell door. In his black, self-camouflaging flight suit, he could barely see his own body in the darkness. He twisted sideways, inserting his head between the bars, and looked up and down the cellblock.

“All clear,” he whispered to Lily. Lily reached down and pulled a spoke from her wheel: the lockpick. She rolled up against the bars, reaching around with one hand to find the lock. Her eyes were shut tight in concentration.

There was a loud click, and the door swung open with a painful squeal.

Stanley and Lily froze. After a count of ten, he followed her out of the cell.

Lily rolled through the deserted prison. Stanley crept ahead of her, peeking around corners. He gave a signal when the coast was clear.

They were inching along the eastern cellblock when Stanley saw a ray of light down the hall. He held a hand up to Lily, and she rolled to a stop.

They heard footsteps, and a short, heavy guard with a flashlight turned a corner. He was coming their way!

Stanley spotted a blanket on a cot in an empty cell. He darted between the bars, grabbed the blanket, and threw it over Lily. Then he threw himself on top of her and tucked his face out of sight.

The guard's footsteps slowed, and he ran his beam over them. “Now, who left this chair here?” he murmured to himself. Stanley heard the guard's heavy footsteps come closer.

“Well, I might as well rest my weary bones,” the guard said with a sigh.

Oh no,
thought Stanley.
He's going to sit on us!

Stanley and Lily braced for impact. But just then, the big guard's walkie-talkie crackled to life. “Barney, where are you? Aren't you done with your rounds yet?”

Barney grunted and straightened up. “Yeah, yeah,” he said to himself. “I'm coming.” He ambled down the hall, grumbling as he went.

When Stanley could no longer hear the guard's footsteps, he leaped up, threw off the blanket, and turned to give Lily a look of relief. But she was already on the move. He ran to keep up.

Finally they arrived at the heavy door that would lead them out of the prison, to the outside. It was kept shut by a rusty old lock.

Lily silently pulled another spoke from the Escapist's wheel: the crowbar. She stuck it in the side of the door, and gave a quick push. The lock broke with a crack.

“Check the other side,” whispered Lily. “If the coast is clear, we'll make a break for it.”

Stanley slipped under the bottom of the door, and the salty night air struck him in the face. All was quiet in the deserted grounds of the prison, and the waters of San Francisco Bay lapped onto the shore far down below. He stood up outside and stretched his arms.

With a flourish, Stanley opened the door for his partner—and an earsplitting siren pierced the air.

He'd tripped the alarm!

“Come on!” Lily barreled forward, scooping Stanley onto her lap. A spotlight flicked on somewhere above them. Lily weaved the wheelchair just out of its reach.