Welcome to the Jungle (14 page)

LONG BEFORE VESUVIA WAS BORN, CONDO CORP HAD INVESTED IN THE FUTURE OF LUXURY
transport, purchasing a fleet of cruise ships, airplanes, Segways, and blimps to provide the world's most expensive travel for the rich and famous. The crown jewel of the Condo Corp armada was the
Big Whale
, Grandma Condolini's personal airship.

Vesuvia delighted in lounging on the bridge of the
Big Whale
. The best part was the pamper-bots who were on hand, quite literally, to attend to Vesuvia's manicure needs.

And thank goodness. After six weeks frozen in a wall, her fingernails were ghastly.

Granny, for her part, clearly had no time to worry about a manicure—and not just because her nails were already polished to perfection. She sat on a stool at the front of the bridge, flying the enormous blimp to the eighth continent. Unfortunately, the stool did little to help with Granny's height issue. Even with it, she was so short she could barely see over the steering wheel.

Vesuvia stretched like a lazy kitten and sighed, taking in the euphoria-inducing plastic smell of the inflatable couches around her. “Oh, Granny, it feels
so good
to be out of that frozen dump. And now the Lanes are cooked. This has been the most loveliest day of the year.”

“Oh you think so, huh? Ha! Double ha!” Granny made a face like she was sucking on a grapefruit. “While you've been on your ski trip, the rest of us have been working.”

“Ski trip!? You think that icy pit was a vacation? I'm lucky I escaped alive!”

“You're lucky
I
sent those stupid brats to break you out, or you'd still be there, whining and doing no one any good I'm sure.”

Vesuvia pulled away from the pamper-bot, who blatted disapprovingly. She stomped over to the pilot's seat and stuck a half-painted finger in Granny's face. “But now I'm out, and I'm ready to take my continent, so stop holding me accountable for things I did in the past. That's not fair!”

Granny sniffed. “Your petulance serves you well, child. It's an admirable quality for a CEO to possess. Let me tell you what I've been up to during your unfortunate absence.”

“Yes, please!”

“Well,” Granny said, “I wasn't about to let those stupid Lanes get away with locking up my precious Susu. As soon as I heard what happened at the eighth continent, I sent the Piffle Pink Patrol to smash them good!”

There was nothing Vesuvia had missed more while she had been locked up than her beloved Piffle Pink Patrol. Not even smoothies or the blueprints to New Miami. The PPP was her special army of plastic robot animals. There was Stuffings, the Bird Brigade, and of course, her dearest fishy companion, the robo-shark Chompedo. If anyone was capable of smashing the Lanes, it was them.

Granny went on. “But our pink robots ran into a problem when those lousy Lanes hit them with an EMP. The robots were heavily damaged and crashed into the eighth continent, knocking it off course.”

Vesuvia threw her hands in the air. “Oh! So that's why Evie Lane was all up in my grille about the Piffle Pink Patrol attacking her stupid continent. She blamed me. But
you
were the one who sent them. Classy move, Granny. Very classy!”

“What no one knew,” Granny smiled, “was that I had intended for this to happen all along. With the continent destabilized, its occupants would scatter to find a solution. Now there are no Lanes left on the eighth continent.”

“Right,” Vesuvia said. “But the Lanes said Winterpole has an outpost there now.”

“What?! Those bureaucratic bozos? My intel didn't tell me anything about that.”

“Your intel must stink worse than your dentures,” Vesuvia sneered.

Granny swatted her. Fortunately, Vesuvia's plastic hairspray-coated 'do cushioned the blow.

“I may have a solution to the Winterpole problem,” Vesuvia said. “I need to make a call.”

Vesuvia left the bridge and wandered through the
Big Whale
, looking for a quiet place to use her phone. She walked past the kitchens, where chef-bots were furiously chopping fruit to be made into smoothies, and past one of the blimp's three heated swimming pools, where a bunch of inflatable animals floated on the surface. When she reached the giant wardrobe that took up the majority of the blimp's center, she had to force herself not to get distracted by all the fancy clothes. She had a mission to accomplish, after all.

Finally, Vesuvia reached the back of the ship. Winded from her journey, she plopped down on an inflatable stool and took out the new phone Granny had given her as a welcome-home present. Then she dialed the only number she knew by heart.

The phone rang. And rang again. At long last a voice was audible on the other end of the line. “Hello?” it asked. The voice was meek and quiet, like a mouse. But it was the only voice Vesuvia wanted to hear, that of her ex-but-maybe-not-ex-best-friend.

“Diana?” Vesuvia asked. “Diana is that you? Tell me what you're doing right this instant.”

“What am I . . . ? I'm . . . processing permission slips at my internship. Who is this? Vesuvia?”

“Yes, Diana, it is me, the best thing that ever happened to you. And aren't you lucky that I'm calling you now? Don't answer yet. I have some good news. Even though you betrayed me for no good reason and all that, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones unless you make me mad again. And you know what that means? It means I want you to come back to work for me. Isn't that fantastic?”

Diana's voice came back quiet and fearful. “Vesuvia, um . . . I don't want to work for you anymore. I have a job. And you're in prison.”

“Oh, Diana, ignorant as usual. I'm not in prison. I'm free! I broke out. And now I'm going to take over the eighth continent with your help.”

“What? Vesuvia”—Diana lowered her voice—“I could get in a lot of trouble just for having this conversation. I don't want to help you. Don't call me again.”

“I think we'd start by destroying the base Winterpole has set up on the continent,” Vesuvia said thoughtfully. “Your knowledge of their tactics will be essential. Do you think you could get your mother to betray Winterpole for us? You're going to have to ask her about that right away.”

There was a long pause. This was not cool. When Vesuvia gave her best friend an order, she expected an immediate “Yes, Vesuvia,” or “Anything you wish, Vesuvia.” And she usually got one.

“Hello?” Vesuvia asked the phone in a tone that usually belonged to Diana.

No reply.

“Diana?”

The voice that returned to Vesuvia was not Diana's. “Beeee boooo bEEEEEE. Please hang up and try your call again. If you need assistance, dial an operator
.
”

It was hard for Vesuvia to process what had just happened. Diana had never told her
no
before. It had never occurred to Vesuvia that there would come a time when Diana didn't want to be around her and help her solve her problems. That was what Diana always did. The truth was, Diana was the only person Vesuvia really liked having around. Obviously Vesuvia was doing her a big favor by hanging out with someone so much less popular and attractive than she was. But now that Diana was gone . . . was it possible Diana had also been doing Vesuvia a favor . . . by being her friend?

Vesuvia definitely did not like the feeling inside her at the moment, and it was not going away. She wanted to blame Diana for feeling horrible, but she couldn't. It was a strange sensation and it freaked her out.

Back on the bridge, Vesuvia told Granny about the setback.

“So you're telling me you don't have a way to get rid of the Winterpole outpost?” Granny snorted loudly. “And you also feel bad? What does that even mean?”

“I don't know. . . .” Vesuvia thought about it. “It's like I have a weight on my chest. I want to lie down and don't want to stand up.”

Granny scoffed. “What you're feeling is
sadness
, my dear. I can't say I'm surprised you've never experienced it before. Condolini women are known for being
fabulous
so much of the time, even those of us who are half-Piffle.”

“What can I do?” Vesuvia asked, worried this sadness would damage her reputation as a Condolini woman.

“It just so happens that I have the perfect thing to solve both our problems. We need to get supplies to wipe out that Winterpole outpost, and we need to make you feel better. So that leaves just one option. Susu, my dear, we are going shopping!”

BACK ON THE
ROOST
, RICK KNEW WHAT THEY HAD TO DO NEXT. “WE NEED TO RESCUE MOM.”

“WHAT!?!” Evie exclaimed, pushing back from the table of maps they'd all been scouring over. “We haven't rooted the eighth continent yet and you just told us that it's going to collide with Australia in a few hours.”

2-Tor squawked. “I must say, Richard, it does indeed seem very foolhardy to interrupt the mission.”

Sprout listened, looking agreeable, but the puzzled look on his face made it obvious he was as baffled as the others.

Rick ripped off his glasses and polished the lenses on his shirt. He was already losing the crowd. “People, please! We have to stay focused. Look. We can't take on Winterpole and Condo Corp by ourselves. We need help, but we don't even know where Dad is.”

“I dunno, Rick. We made it this far by ourselves. Why do you think we suddenly need Mom to come to the rescue?”

“Because before we didn't have Vesuvia in our hair. Face it. We messed up letting Grandma Condolini trick us. It's clear we can't do this on our own. I feel like we're back where we started. Winterpole and Vesuvia and us all racing to control the eighth continent, and we're in last place.”

“I was against freeing Vesuvia from the start,” Evie pointed out.

Sprout put up his hands. “Look y'all, there's no need to point fingers. That doesn't do anyone any good.”

“It would have done us plenty of good if we hadn't broken that evil, vile villain out of her cell.”

2-Tor squawked. “I must say, Richard, even I was quite surprised to see you take on such an abhorrent task.”

“Well, I didn't see you protest when you were stuffing your face with Grandma Condolini's earthworm salad.”

“Oh my. How rude!” 2-Tor turned up his beak in offense.

“I think we should change course for the stain in the South Pacific, find out from the Cleanaspot people there where Mom is being held, and bust her out of wherever it is. Once Mom is free, she can help us rally the ships and workers of Cleanaspot to stand a decent chance against Vesuvia and Condo Corp.”

“In a perfect world that plan sounds fine, but the stain is so out of the way. We don't have time to make detours, Rick.”

Rick pointed at the maps on the table. “I've thought carefully about this decision, Evie. I've considered our options. The stain is due south from our current position. The continent is far to the west, only a few hundred miles from Australia. Yes, it's out of the way. Yes, it'll delay our return to the eighth continent. But through my analysis, I have determined that this is our best hope. You should trust me.”

Snorting loudly, Evie said, “You mean the way we should trust the scientist dictators you want running the eighth continent? Good thing we're not under your rule, and this, this right here”—she pointed between herself, 2-Tor, and Sprout—“this is a democracy.”

2-Tor blinked awkwardly. “Your knowledge of my old personality circuits is sound. It would be my preference, of course, to reunite with Mrs. Lane.”

Rick let out a sigh of relief. At least someone was on his side. “Thank you, 2-Tor.”

“On the other wing,” 2-Tor went on, “I do see the merits in both arguments. It is only fitting in this case that I abstain from the vote.”

“No, 2-Tor!” Rick pleaded desperately. “You're one of us. You're not even a robot any more. Of course you should vote. Vote your conscience.”

“I must not,” said 2-Tor.

Rick turned to Sprout, who had been listening thoughtfully. “Fine, then Sprout, you're the deciding vote. What are we going to do? Rush into danger unprepared, or go get backup?”

Sprout tipped back his hat and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “Well, shucks, Rick, I've been thinking real hard about this here argument. I always heard you want someone sitting shotgun when you ride into danger.”

“Yes, exactly!” Rick said. “Someone at your side.”

Evie tugged on his arm. “But Sprout, we don't have time. Besides, you came all this way to see the super root in action. You'll miss it if you're at the stain. Because I'm taking the
Roost
to the eighth continent now, no matter what Rick says.”

“You can't do that,” Rick said.

“Watch me,” Evie said defiantly. “Look, I want to rescue Mom too, but we don't have time right now. If you absolutely
have
to free her right this second, take an escape pod and go find her. Meanwhile, I'll be saving the continent from our enemies and saving Australia from the continent.”

“You never listen and you never think, Evie! Even Vesuvia would be a better sister than you.” Rick felt how cruel this was even as he was saying it. But he was so mad at her he could barely see straight.

Evie stuck her tongue out at him. “I'm not the one screaming and bossing everyone around. Say goodbye, Sprout. Rick is leaving.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Rick said. “Sprout is coming with me. He's my friend, not yours. Come on, Sprout. Let's go.”

Sprout stood still, hat in hand, looking awkward. “Aw, shucks, Rick. Don't make me choose. Evie's right. I sure do want to see the super root in action.”

Rick watched helplessly as Sprout followed Evie to the bridge. How had he lost that argument? He had spent so much time analyzing the different possible outcomes and sculpting his replies to each branch in the dialogue tree.

2-Tor placed a warm wing on his shoulder. “There, there, Richard. It is all right. I will accompany you to your mother.” The bird's company did little to comfort Rick as he strapped into the acorn escape pod. “Detach docking cable!” 2-Tor said, throwing a lever.

With a snap, the escape pod broke free and rocketed across the ocean in the opposite direction of where the
Roost
was heading. Rick watched his beloved hovership fade into the distance, feeling as disconnected from his life as the continent was from the ocean floor.