Free Attack of the Spider Bots by Robert West Page B

disappointments, God would eventually work things out and bless him. That’s what his parents had told Beamer to remember when things went wrong. Okay, maybe a kid’s problems weren’t in the same league with an adult’s, but they always felt like it at the time.
    Solomon suddenly shook his head and swallowed deeply. “I understand you found my train set?” Solomon asked out of nowhere.
    â€œHow did you know about that?” Beamer asked, wide-eyed.
    â€œThe same way I heard that you were the kids from the tree house,” he answered, pointing toward an intercom in the wall. “I overheard you talking to the robot when you came here the first time. I’d forgotten that I even had a train set.”
    â€œAnd it still works,” said Ghoulie. “It’s amazing, especially when you consider how primitive the technology was at the time.”
    â€œReally!” he said with a delighted chuckle. “I’ll bet Rebecca has been wondering all these years why her electric bill is so high. I should probably go over to the old house and turn it off.”
    Suddenly the door opened again, and Mrs. Drummond stalked in with a look of impatience. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Parker, but it is time for your afternoon nap. These youngsters have taken enough of your time and are probably testing your patience.”
    â€œOh, must they?” the elderly man asked. “It’s been so long — ”
    â€œWe must consider your health, Mr. Parker. I don’t want you to become too anxious. Hurry, children!” she said, clapping her hands to speed them up. “Leave your drinks on the table and come along.”
    â€œBut I never got around to the reason I wanted to see them. I wanted to ask you to take me to your tree house,” he said quickly before Mrs. Drummond could usher them out of the room.
    Beamer was startled to hear the request, but they were all quick to say, “Yes/Hey, no problem/Sure.”
    Mrs. Drummond, however, gave him a look of alarm. “The strain would be far too much for you at your age, Mr. Parker. Really, I must insist that — ”
    â€œNo, no, that’s what I want to do,” he persisted. “I’ve waited a long time and, as you suggest, I’m not getting any younger. Please contact me when you think of a good time,” he said to Beamer and his friends. “Mrs. Drummond, give them my phone number so that they can call.”
    â€œYes, of course,” the stern woman said with a deep frown. “Now we must be going,” she said, herding them out of the room like goats. “I knew I should never have admitted you,” she muttered after she closed the door. “You’ll undermine everything I’ve tried to do — the very idea of a man in his state of health climbing up to a tree house.”
    Beamer started to tell her about their transporter/elevator, but she scooted them ahead of her even more quickly toward the staircase. He turned around to look at the others and almost fell down the first couple of steps. He turned forward again and saw Mrs. Drummond at the foot of the steps.
    â€œCome on, don’t dally,” she said, waving them on down the steps toward her.
    How did she get to the bottom of the steps so fast? She looks like Mrs. Drummond, but she can’t be. Beamer twisted around to look back up the steps. Mrs. Drummond wasn’t up there anymore. But how could she be the same woman who was just pushing them from behind? There is no way that Mrs. Drummond could have sped past us down the steps to the lower floor without us seeing her. “Hurry, hurry on out,” she said to the kids, holding her hands high as if she were afraid she would get dirty if she touched them.
    â€œQuickly,” the woman said as she drove them outside onto the porch. The spiderlike sentries were already there, waiting for instructions. “Make sure to get them off our