The Tillamook Escapade
PART III - The Tunnels Of O.U.Cheese
It was as G.G. predicted. The Scruffies held themselves so staunchly serious that Gadget and G.G. started giggling almost at once. G.G. picked up her gear and went ahead. When the rest of them got up on the landing pad, Gadget found G.G. just about to take off. She was flying her own one-seat Wallis autogyro, an open cockpit airborne motorcycle with a bullet-like fuselage. With a bug-like buzz and a jaunty salute, she zoomed away, leaving Gadget envious. The Scruffies gathered Gadget into the Vertijet and they quickly lifted off, following G.G. north to the cheese factory.
Gary cut the lights as they approached. Gordon was wearing night vision goggles, but Gary’s natural eyesight was nearly as sensitive. He circled around to head into the wind and picked out the landing spot. He touched down feather-light and cut all power. There was little risk of anyone being on the roof at night, but they weren’t taking any chances.
The three of them moved aft in the jet and paused at the cargo door to make their final preparations. They strapped on equipment harnesses, carrying rescue and climbing gear instead of weapons. Gadget clipped her portable analyzer to the back of her belt and a pouch of test instruments to her side. She tied her hair back and tucked it into her suit. Finally, they put on their communication headsets and pulled the suits’ hoods up over their heads.
“I feel like I’m walking into a Japanese monster movie dressed like this.” Gadget said. The hood mashed her ears against her head and pressed the headset tight into her ear canal.
“At least we don’t have to wear the helmets and air supply.” Gordon replied. “We’d only be in about an hour before we’d have to quit. This way, we can finish the job tonight, barring any trouble.”
“There’s always trouble, Ollie,” Gary said primly. “If there weren’t any, we’d have to bring our own.”
Gordon looked down at Gadget and huffed, “Here’s another fine mess he’s gotten us into.”
G.G. had just finished opening the ventilation grating when the Scruffies walked up. Gordon helped G.G. hook up a climbing rope, and they all descended into the shaft, switching on lights only when well away from the opening. Eventually, G.G. stepped off into a side duct and used hand signs to indicate they should move single file, and silently, then led the way. Gordon paused only long enough to retrieve the rope.
Little more than a silhouette in the dim light, G.G. continued on for a while. Then she stopped and indicated a section of the ceiling. A thick metal bar crossed its entire width. She pointed out a wide concealed treadle on the floor. It was a big mousetrap, built into the vent duct. The slightest touch on the treadle and the bar would smash down, too fast to dodge. It would snap a rodent’s neck, if fortunate. Or if not, leave them trapped in agony with broken bones and crushed organs, waiting for death. Gadget clutched her throat. Killing traps made her queasy and gave her goose bumps. And I’ll bet they can see every goose bump, she thought. More self-conscious, my tail.
G.G. shined her light a short distance down the duct, where it would be safe to step, then leaped lightly across the danger zone. Gary followed with an easy jump. Gordon rested a hand on Gadget’s back, indicating she was next. Gary turned and extended his arms, ready to steady her landing. Gadget didn’t move for a moment, her imagination flashing images of the penalty of a misstep. She didn’t hold back when she jumped. She ran full-tilt and flew like a broad jumper over the fatal section, barreling into Gary while still airborne. He managed to catch her without falling, but they both stumbled, making the duct boom like a drum. G.G. hissed at them for silence, then moved quickly along the duct.
Gordon crossed the treadle in little more than a giant step, gave Gadget a pat on the back as he passed, and followed G.G. while Gary stayed with Gadget. Her eyes were closed and she was panting. He held her lightly by the shoulders and she finally looked at him, nodding that she was all right. He herded her on behind Gordon. They descended another vertical shaft and negotiated two more spring traps before G.G. signaled a halt.
“Okay,” G.G. announced, “we can talk again. That first stretch is right over the production control office, and they can hear every sound.”
“Sorry about the noise,” Gadget apologized. “I got a bit rattled by that first trap.”
G.G. began to head down the next duct when Gadget became aware of her analyzer humming. She pulled it from its case. It was active, but just slightly. “Wait a second, guys. I’ve got an indication. Let me get a reading.” She watched the dial and swept the instrument right and left, moving in the direction G.G. had been going. She reported the readings as she moved. “Point three... point four... stronger ahead.”
“What are you picking up?” Gary asked.
“I’m not sure. Something toxic.”
“Staph toxin?” Gary mused. Then his eyes went wide. “God’s teeth! Could that germ be airborne?”
“Watch your language,” Gadget said, annoyed. “Staph is spread by contact. It can’t be airborne.”
“What about the toxin itself?” G.G. queried. “Could it be pumped through the vent system?”
“I’m using the highest sensitivity. Reading point six, now,” Gadget reported. “If it were at a dangerous concentration this gauge would have burst into flames by now. This is something else.”
Gadget now led the way down the duct, concentrating on the instrument. Suddenly, Gary grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back forcefully.
“G.G., is that what I think it is?” Gary indicated the floor ahead. A section was somewhat shinier than the rest, as if it had been lightly waxed.
“You’re right,” she responded. “It’s been treated with contact poison. We’d have walked right into it. Good work, both of you.”
“Won’t our suits protect us?” Gadget asked.
“Yes, but that stuff’s sticky,” Gary replied. “They’d know we were here from our footprints.”
“We can get across this way.” Gordon took out a wide nylon strap intended for lifting or climbing. He took careful aim and rolled the coil across the strip of poison. “A straight line won’t be a tip-off. We’ll bag it and dump it in a waste barrel inside. It won’t be noticed.”
“Ever tightrope walk, Miss West?” Gary asked with a smile.
“I have, Mister Bolt,” she answered, beaming now that the name game included her. “And I’ll have an easier time than the rest of you. I’ve got smaller feet.”
Gadget moved to the end of the strap and drew herself up as tall as she could. She swept her arms outward in a smooth, elegant movement and went on her toes. Fixing her gaze a short distance ahead of herself, she stepped onto the strap and walked the length of it with the balance and grace of a ballet dancer. She hopped nimbly off the end, made a pirouette that squeaked her rubber soles, and spread her arms triumphantly. She lacked only the trumpet sounding TA-DAAA! Her friends responded with soft, heartfelt applause.
“Well,” Gordon said, “we won’t top that performance. Let’s just tromp on over.”
They continued along the maze of ducts, down another vertical shaft and through more twists and turns. The duct became much narrower and they began to encounter output vents that let in light and afforded brief views outside. Finally, G.G. called another halt and Gadget became aware of a different scent here.
“Are we near the transformers?” she asked. “I smell ozone.”
“We’re almost out,” G.G. answered. “Just this last obstacle. The floor ahead is electrified. 220 volts.”
“These suits won’t insulate us from that,” Gadget frowned. “Shouldn’t we go back and out one of the other vents?”
“We have to exit into the factory,” Gary said. “We have to be able to hide, and it’s got the best cover.”
“This part is easy, anyway.” G.G. hopped straight up and pressed her hands and feet against the opposing walls. Then she rapidly spider walked to the far end. “See? Piece of cake.”
“I can’t do that!” Gadget protested. “My legs aren’t long enough!”
“I know,” Gary kneeled down. “Up on my back. I’ll carry you across.”
“I’ll throw your balance off. What if you fall?”
“I’ll fall forward. You stay on my back until Gordo comes out and gets you.”
“Stay on top of you while you lie there and sizzle!? Not a chance!”
“There isn’t another way. Besides, you’re a good passenger. If you can ride on my back when I’m flying and not upset my balance, this will be a snap.”
“Okay,” she said reluctantly. “Just be very careful.”
Gadget hopped up on to Gary’s back and wrapped her arms and legs around him. He made a small jump and pressed against the walls in a spread-eagle fashion. Then he quickly scuttled along the duct the short distance to safety. Gordon crossed with equal ease a moment later.
“See?” said Gary. “Nothing to it.”
“Remind me of that when my heart rate goes back down,” Gadget muttered.
G.G. reached up and opened a clean-out hatch in the top of the duct. She climbed up and passed through the opening and waved the others on. Gordon clambered through, then Gary boosted Gadget through the opening, following a moment later.
On top of the duct, Gadget saw the manufacturing floor spread out before her. The air was pungent, warm and moist from the transformation of milk from whole and fresh to curdled and very precisely sour. There were only a few humans on the factory floor monitoring a process that had gone from labor intensive to highly mechanized in just the last few years.
Gadget pulled forward on the front of her Nitrile suit and blew air down inside. It was already getting sticky from the heat. Her palms and the soles of her feet were slick with perspiration. This wasn’t going to be an easy night.
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