“It’s headed for the craft center,” I tell them as my thoughts race. “All the art Kavya moved there! And it just keeps coming!”
Clay nods, determined. “We’ve got to help,” he says, and takes off jogging again.
Nicholas throws his hands in the air. “How are we supposed to stop that much Glube?” he asks to no one in particular, then goes running after his man.
He’s right. The gloopy lube looks unstoppable, but it’s moving like a slow-motion wave, giving us a little time. Thinking fast, I pull up the group text that I’ve been using to communicate with the rest of the block this summer.
SOS! Glube emergency! There’s a catastrophic leak headed straight for the crafts center. Anyone available, come help!
Immediately, my phone begins to ding with reactions, but there’s not time to read them. Instead, I turn my eyes to Liberty Garage. Determined, I race down the street and right inside, where the mechanics are busy at work, unaware of the disaster unfolding nearby.
A couple bikers shout a greeting to me, but when my eyes land on Riley, I beeline straight to him.
“Finn,” he says, surprised, and sets his wrench down. “Hi.”
“There’s been an accident at the lube store. Glube is about to inundate the arts and crafts center. Can you help?”
It only takes Riley a second to process, and just like I hoped, he’s immediately all in.
“Can we stop it?” he asks.
“I don’t think so. Unless you have an unusually large amount of sandbags on hand. But it’s moving very slowly.”
“Your friend’s show,” he says immediately, remembering. “Maybe we have time to empty the buildings and save some of the art.”
“With Glube filling the street, there’s no room for cars to drive up. But your motorcycles might find a path through.”
“We’ve got carts that we could haul.”
“That might work.”
Riley nods, determined. “I’ll organize the mechanics.”
“I’ll head to the scene,” I say. Heart pounding, I turn on my heel, but am surprised when Riley grabs my arm.
“Stay safe,” he says, voice raspy. “Just… don’t get hurt, okay?”
I hold his eye. “You, too.”
When I get outside, I see that more of the neighborhood is gathering around. Everyone seems to be in a panic, and the lube is still coming, a constant flow. Xander huffs around outside his shop with a push broom, futilely attempting to shove the lube back.
“My Glube!” he yells out, distraught. “Years of Glube!”
I rush down to the end of the block. The gathered crowd looks to be at a loss, so I quickly clap my hands to get their attention.
“Everyone!” I holler out. “If we form a line, we can pass paintings and other objects up from the basement and hopefully save them before the lube flow arrives.”
A man from the center shakes his head. “So much is in the basement,” he says, distraught. “It’s simply more than we can move all the way up the block by hand.”
Leon, Sonia, and a few other people from the block come running up. “We got your message,” Leon says. “How can we help?”
“It might be too much to move by hand,” I agree, “but luckily, we’ve got some bikers in this neighborhood.”
Right on time, the rumble of approaching motorcycles fills the air. Riley comes first, a line of mechanics on bikes behind him. They carefully roll around the lube, up the sidewalk, and down to the center.
I look to the man who works there for guidance. He’s clearly overwhelmed and frozen in place, though, so I step in, knowing there’s no time to lose.
“Start a line in the basement,” I call out. “Pass up the most important items first. We’ll load them onto carts, and the bikes will haul them away. There’s plenty of space to store everything in the back of The Scoop for the time being.”
