Meritorium (Meritropolis Book 2) by Joel Ohman Read Free Book Online Page A

approached. “Well, are you going to help him, or just stare at him?”
    Charley turned slowly. “Yeah, I was—it’s just, I don’t know, something …”
    Sandy reached down and crammed two little sprigs of cloth into Hank’s nostrils. “There you go, buddy.” Sandy rolled her eyes as Hank gave a snort, shook his head, and started breathing through his mouth. “Be lucky you weren’t rescued by Grigor. I think he peed on his shirt strips before cramming them into people’s noses. I guess maybe he thought the ammonia would counteract the flower smell …”
    Both Hank and Charley’s eyes grew wide, before Sandy guffawed. “Just kidding!” She looked over at Grigor and Sven, who had finished helping the others. “I think …” Holding her stomach, she suddenly doubled over, chortling in an uncharacteristically exuberant display.
    Grigor and Sven strode up, accompanied by a still under-the-weather Orson. Grigor gestured in a circular motion. “Everyone has some kind of nose plugs in, but we’re surrounded. These flowers are everywhere.”
    Sven spoke next. “They’re just flowers. We can just hack through them, right? I mean, we could just pick them, if we need to. It would literally be like a nice walk in the park.” He giggled. “It would be a really fun walk in the park, too. Picking all of these flowers …”
    Charley looked from Sandy to Sven, his concern growing. It appeared that the nose strips were not a perfect antidote; they were both still loopy.
    Grigor shook his head. “We are all still under the effects of the flowers. We need to hurry and hack, pick, uproot our way through—”
    “Wait!” Charley exclaimed. It was coming to him, the warning his subconscious had been trying to signal to him earlier as his fuzzy brain strained to make sense of Hank’s earlier flower frolic. It was something about picking—what was it about picking flowers? Charley looked closely at Hank, and it came to him. “I don’t think we want to start picking any of the flowers, or hacking our way through them.”
    “Why?” Sandy asked. “Don’t tell me you are falling under their spell again, too …”
    “No, that’s not it,” Charley said. “Just watch.”
    Charley bent down and plucked a single amaranthine bloom. Before he had even pulled his hand back, two blooms sprouted to replace it.
    “Whoa—Charley, that’s awesome!” Hank chortled, reaching to pull a handful of his own.
    Sandy shouted, “Stop it, you lush!” But she was too late; the spot where Hank had culled his bunch immediately bloomed into a bush-sized bouquet.
    “Heh, heh, that’s what I’m talking about.” Hank reached down again, eyes shining.
    “Oh no, you don’t!” Sandy swatted his hand away. She stepped in front of him, attempting to shield him with her body. “I think Hank has too much in his system already for the nose plugs to do much good.” She looked to Charley, her eyes widening. “Charley, do something!”
    Orson perked up. “It’s a hydra—a hydra bush. It will keep regrowing double.”
    Hank giggled. “A hydra—a hydra-hydrangea. Heh, heh.” He degenerated into a strange little fit of sniggering.
    “A hydra hydrangea …” Charley muttered softly.
    Orson looked at Charley, cocked his head sideways, and stumbled forward before catching himself with an uneven jolt. “Too bad you destroyed that mantrap—some of that acid would be nice for cutting through this tangle. Works every time.” He looked at Grigor. “Or so I’ve been told.”
    Grigor shrugged. “It is powerful stuff. I’ve heard mantrap acid can digest just about anything; that is why there were no other smaller plants close by the mantrap Charley cut down.”
    Charley drew his two blades slowly, flipping them over from side to side, looking at the metal still stained green from the mantrap goo.
    “Charley, what are you doing?” Sandy asked.
    Stepping forward, Charley raised both of the poisoned blades. “I don’t exactly have a vat