Attack of the Spider Bots by Robert West Page A

are we doing here?” protested Scilla, huffing and puffing behind Beamer as they approached the trolley terminal turned ice Castle. “You got your wallet back.”
    â€œDo you want the kid picked up by the police?” he countered her.
    They went into the building. Everything inside was linked together in rolling hills of snow. With every step came a crunch . They could forget about sneaking up on the little crook.
    â€œWhy didn’t Ghoulie come?” Scilla asked.
    â€œHis parents were taking him out to an amusement park for their anniversary,” Beamer said as he huffed clouds of chilled breath into the station. He banged through the side door, and they were once again in the trolley-car graveyard.
    â€œIs this the right car?” he asked Scilla when he reached the trolley-car door where he thought they’d found the thief ’s stuff last time.
    â€œPretty sure,” she answered as she jumped up to the first step. “I remember that the car next to it had a broken window and a twisted mirror the same as it has now.”
    â€œYeah, well, something’s definitely not the same here.”
    The trolley was empty. It was like the kid had never been there. He’d left nothing behind — no clothes, no gadgets, no loot — nothing. “As they say, he’s gone without a trace,” said Beamer.
    They went on to search the other trolley cars. This time, though, they skipped the ones that required jumping up to see through the windows. If they couldn’t get inside, the chances were the little hobo couldn’t either, and Beamer didn’t want another headache.
    â€œCome on,” Beamer said as he started walking back to the station. “We may as well look for the ghost of Mr. Parker while we’re here.”
    â€œGhost?” exclaimed Scilla. “You didn’t say anything about a ghost.”
    â€œIt’s sort of his ghost — we’re looking for what Mr. Parker left behind when he disappeared.”
    â€œCute, MacIntyre,” said Scilla with a crooked grin. They finally found the station office on a balcony above the passenger and ticketing area. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Someone had treated the place like it was the city dump. Drawers had been broken out of the desks and filing cabinets. A confetti factory wouldn’t have had as much paper strewn about.
    â€œI’ll take what’s left of the filing cabinets,” said Scilla. Beamer started going through desk and table drawers. “Doesn’t look promising,” Beamer said as a drawer broke apart and crashed to the floor.
    â€œMaybe there’s more here than you’d think,” Scilla said as she plopped to the ground beneath the weight of a huge file folder. “There’s a bunch of newspaper clippings still here — really old ones.” Scilla picked up the first one only to have it immediately crumble to pieces in her hand. “Whoa,” she said and laid the folder flat on the floor between her crossed legs. She leaned over the folder and turned the next page like it was made of thin glass. “Here’s a picture of the trolley station under construction, and here’s another one of trolley tracks being laid.”
    Beamer slid down beside her. A newspaper photo showed a man getting an award from a city official. Beamer started to grab it, but Scilla shook him off. “Take it easy. These are halfway to dust already.”
    â€œOkay, but then what’s it say?” he asked impatiently.
    â€œThis one says somethin’ about going into bankruptcy,” she said.
    â€œThat’s pretty bad,” mumbled Beamer.
    â€œSounds like the trolley business didn’t make any money,” said Scilla. “Too bad Ghoulie’s not here — numbers bein’ his thing and all.”
    â€œHappened back in 1951,” said Beamer as he pointed at the date.
    They suddenly heard a thump above their heads.