School was dismissed shortly after the shockwave knocked out all windows in a twenty-mile radius, leaving a large part of the town heading to the windowless high school gym to get relief from the subzero temperatures.

Several alarms were still going off, drowning out the emergency vehicles swarming the town. Mr. Verne had left school on a mission to find a meteorite, even though there had been no reports of any fragments coming down, forcing Howie to choose between going with is best friend and heading out with his science teacher. As usual, Oak won out.  Howie stayed feeling he was the only one who was going to keep Oak out of trouble during the rescue, which lately meant he was going to get into trouble too.

Seward Park was across town, which meant it was five blocks from the school. Being a Nordic skier’s paradise on any other day would have seen two dozen skiers using the groomed trails, even as the sun just refuses to peak over the mountains giving the day only a dusting of light. Today with the comet, there was just a few die-hard skiers came out of the lighted forest trails, as Oak and Howie headed into the woods.

 “Do you think she’s actually in there,” asked Howie already knowing that they were still going, but he was still looking for a little doubt that he could use to stop his friend.

 “If Coach Wayne hadn’t stopped us yesterday during PE, we would know for sure,” grumbled Oak. The day before they had caught that unique smell of rotten eggs and ripe salmon at a trail rest bench.  “You saw the hideout in the trees, that the smell was coming from it.  Why would someone have a hunting hideout in a public park, it has to be where they were hiding her.”

They rounded a corner allowing the rest bench came into view.  It’s memorial plaque for Mayor Henry Brackens, father of current mayor, was an indicator whose hideout was in the trees behind it.

“Oak, this can’t end well, you know whose hideout this is.”

Oak was already through the small fence and sneaking up to the hideout in the tree.  “Come on,” he whispered.  He had circled the tree several times before Howie caught up, not finding any limbs within reach, “give me a boost.”

Creating a step with his hands, Howie muttered, “Oak, the last time we tried to be heroes we both got community service.”

Oak was thinking of that time, but it was driving, not deterring him.  He really thought the mayor’s wife was having a heart attack.   The CPR was perfect, too perfect, and how can they call the ambulance a false alarm when the mayor’s mother need a lift to the hospital with her four broken ribs she got from the perfect CPR. 

“How were we suppose to know she was just taking a nap in the park.  She was lying weird in the grass and besides, what eighty-year-old lady uses earphones or even listen to an iPod.  If she had answered our questions we wouldn’t have started the CPR. She didn’t respond and I swear she wasn’t breathing. Besides when we show up with the Smelly Princess they will have to take it all back.”

“Who is they? You know it’s all in your head, don’t you,” said Howie shaking his head, while hoisting his friend above his head.

“Just a little more,” Oak grunted reaching for the door in the floor of the hideout.

 Howie gave one last push, forcing Oak halfway through the doorway before he was able to get ahold of something.

“Intruder, intruder, bombs away.” The trap door opening had set off an alarm.

Oak looked around, catching in the corner of his eye a small robot preparing to drop a balloon through the opening. Jumping for the far edge away from the robot, he avoided the balloon, hearing it pop while climbing through the rest of the doorway.  

“Thanks for the heads up,” grunted Howie from below. 

Looking down Oak spotted Howie shaking the remains of the balloon off his boot. 

“What was in the balloon?” 

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t smell like water,” groaned Howie, while rubbing his boot in the snow.  “My boot is frozen solid, and look, it’s pink now.  Man, that would have sucked if it hit me on the head.”

“Ouch!” Something had shocked Oak’s leg.

 Locating the racket looking bug zapper coming back for another swat, Oak jumped back too slow, taking another slap to his leg. A modified Lego robot was swinging one bug zapper in each hand as it approached for another attack.

Scanning the hideout for something to defend himself; a few posters of girls in bikinis on the wall, a couple fishing poles, binoculars, a few street signs on the wall, an old hockey goal in the far corner and a pair of hockey sticks on the floor behind the robot were all he was able to take in before the robot charged. Grabbing a fishing pole off the wall, Oak started to duel with the robot. Sparks flying every time the metal fishing line loops hit the metal of the bug zapper.  Finding himself retreating from the spry robot, Oak didn’t see Howie climb into the hideout behind the robot, casually flicking a switch on the robot’s back, shutting it down, “Seriously, you were letting the three foot can opener win,” smirked Howie.

“He was better then you with those bug zappers,” fired Oak.  Last summer when both their families had been camping at the lake filled his mind.   Oak had bested Howie in there sudo light saber battle with the bug swatters.  Howie had landed a few stunning blows to the shoulder that forced Oak to take the out of bounds head shot. “You took your time get…”

Howie’s gaze cut off Oak.  He was staring into the corner behind him, “You finally got something right,” muttered Howie.

Oak spun to gaze on the princess sleeping on a makeshift bed in the corner.  Dropping the fishing pole, walking towards the feeling of redemption, distract from the loose floorboard he just stepped on. The sinking floorboard, triggered several holes in the wall that sprayed several streams of a liquid.  Dropping to the floor to avoid the streams, exposed Howie the full assault of the pepper scented water.

“Bear spray,” shouted Oak through his coat sleeve, “don’t let it into your eyes!”

“Duh!” grumbled Howie removing his spray covered coat.

Oh, right, thought Oak remembering that Howie was at the same bear defense class that he was last summer where they had got firsthand knowledge of bear spray when the Ranger, in an attempt to explain how it works, shot off a can of bear spray at a rock, only to have it splatter off the rock and hit half the class.  Howie had taken a direct shot from the splatter in his eye and was sent home early from the course. 

They both crawled to the bed, taking a moment to recover as the spray’s vapors dissipated.   Oak grabbed a bottle next to the bed, “Sleeping pills, no wonder she’s still out.”

As their teary vision cleared, a disk robot, rolled out from under the bed, “Hey, look one of those vacuum robot,” said Howie reaching out to shut it off.

“Don’t touch,” shouted Oak noticing the camouflaged blades of several Ulu knives fastened to the top of the floor-cleaning robot.  Quickly sliding his hand under the robot, flipping it over before Howie lost a finger. 

“Thanks,” said Howie looking up from the over turned robot. The blood on Oak’s hand caught his eye, “It got you.”

Oak muttered, “It’s not bad,” putting a glove on from his pocket on to help cover the wound, “I’ll be fine. Let’s just grab her and get out of here.”

Howie was able to effortlessly carry the princess out by himself. Passing the bear spray covered floor boards, vapors still making their eyes water, they noticed the first robot had started to beep. A counter taped to it’s back had just reached zero, powering up, the boys froze. The three fingered hands, while still holding the bug zappers, fell off.

Oak and Howie sighed as laughter of relief took over at the malfunction. 

A small flame came out of the hole on the right arm, melting their laughter.  A mist shot out of the left arm igniting a two-foot flame shooting out at the intruders. The flaming charge took melted Howie to the floor.  The slap shot of the mutant robot to the hockey goal in the corner put felling back into Howie’s legs.

“He shoots and scores!” hooted Oak.

Instantly flames climbed the dry wood plank wall, engulfing the hideout in fire.  

Howie was the first to evacuate down the rope ladder with the princess over his shoulder. Oak took one last look of the hideout that was filling with smoke before climbing out, noticing a street sign tacked to the wall, “Brackens Ave,” he had been accused of stealing it two months ago.

Once out, the boys stopped to take in the hideout engulfed in flames.

“Should we call someone?” asked Howie.

Suddenly the snow-covered roof collapsed on the tree house, forcing the whole thing to fall to the ground in a smoldering heap of burnt wood and black snow.  

“Guess we don’t need too now,” muttered Oak.