“That’s the first line of defence,” David said, brushing off the work he had nothing to do with. “This,” he said with a grin, turning Alex around, “is the second line of defence.”
Behind the piles were eight wooden road-blocks with aluminum signs attached. They had once read “Road Blocked” or “Local Traffic Only.” Now they read “People In Here!”, “Enter at Own Risk!”, and “Get Lost Monsters!” in crudely spray-painted neon-orange letters. It wasn’t likely that the mudmen could read. They just hunted. But people—other kids or adults or, hopefully, a rescue team—would be able to read the signs and know that they were inside the centre.
Attached to these barricades were long spikes. Alex remembered from a book he had read about knights that they were called pikes. Each one was about seven feet long, and angled in such a way that their points came to about chest height on the average man—or mudman. They weren’t made of sturdy wood or metal like the ones he had read about, but he knew what they were there for: to catch the things that were stupid enough to run into them. The Mr. Watts mudman smashed his face through a window—cutting himself up pretty bad—just to get at him, but big spikes were more obvious, and could be avoided easier than glass. Alex didn’t think that the spikes would work, but they were good for appearances. They looked sharp and threatening.
Maybe looks and threats would be enough to stop the mudmen, Alex thought, doubtfully.
An empty parking area—a no-man’s land—lay between the pikes and what impressed Alex the most; what must be the third line of defence. It also reminded him who David Rudderham was: the kid who was skipped ahead and always did well in the science fair—though he never won any with his large, impressive contraptions. One such contraption now stood before him. His imagination made it clear to him how it worked (assuming that it did work—he also remembered that David’s contraptions had about a 50/50 track record).
Strung between two sturdy fence poles was a rope at about waist height. One end was tied to the pole on the left, the other was merely looped around the pole on the right through what looked like a big washer. The rope on the right continued up the side of the pole to the top where a clothesline wheel had been attached. It was strung to the roof of the centre. There, the rope attached to a stick with hammers, long screwdrivers and a gardening spade pointing up, making a small gate. Behind that was the main piece of the contraption; the part that would do some damage, assuming it worked. It looked like a piece of telephone pole, sawed down to a five-foot length (Alex looked up and down the street and noticed that the poles had also been replaced when the sidewalks were put in). The pole was covered in more screwdrivers, saw blades, rake heads, shovel scoops, and a dozen other objects that could cause damage on their own, let alone when attached to a weight that had to be at least a hundred pounds.
After taking it all in, he took a step closer to it, his hand out to touch the rope strung between the poles.
“What are you, stupid?” Nicole asked from behind him, in the aggressive tone Alex already recognized.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” David said, in a much calmer voice. “You put any weight on that, and that will come down on you in a second.”
“Cool,” Alex replied, looking at the death-trap—not as dangerous, but as interesting. He turned to David. “Does it actually work?”
David scoffed. “Of course!”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “He has no idea if it works. It hasn’t done a thing yet. Nothing has gotten through to it.”
“Well,” David argued, “we actually just finished setting it up when we heard your dog, so we didn’t get to test it or anything. But it will work. I mean, it makes sense that it would. Right?”
Alex stared back up at the “smasher,” which he could now see was clearly labelled as such in the same crude spray-paint. “Yeah. Yeah, it would totally work. One of those things would walk into the rope, ‘cause they’re stupid or whatever, and then that thing comes and ... SPLAT!”
“You do realize that you almost did just that, right?” Nicole sighed.
“But he didn’t!” David said, defending Alex. “Because he’s not stupid.”
“Yeah,” sneered Alex, nodding at David. He looked down and realized he was, ignorantly, mere inches from what had to be the trigger for this thing. Moments ago, he hadn’t seen it at all. He had, for what felt like the hundredth time in the past three days, come so close to death.
Evidently David sensed this awkwardness in Alex. “Plus, you know, I’m gonna paint warnings on it. Like the spikes. Just in case.”
Trying to regain some composure and clear the sudden look of fear and embarrassment from his face, Alex nodded. “Yeah,” he said, putting his hands on his hips, hoping the superman-like pose would convey confidence. “That sounds like a good idea.”
David walked over to Alex, a large grin on his face as he looked over the SMASHER! with obvious satisfaction. “Yup, it’s pretty good,” he said, putting on some degree of modesty. “I’ve got ideas for a bunch more too! I’m gonna make one with a swinging arm, that has a big blade at the end!”
“Aw, cool!”
“Yeah! And one with—”
“Boys!” shouted Nicole. “I hate to ruin your little brag party, but if you remember, there’s a bunch of those things ... deadies or mudmen or whatever you want to call them, coming after us. Right now. You led them to us, remember?” She glared at Alex through squinted eyes as she spat out
