Robot Trouble Read Online Free

A few minutes of confusion, angry shouts, and loud thumping noises followed.
    Then it was all over.
    On the other side of the warehouse the Gamma Ray had taken cover behind a pair of huge wooden crates, where he was having second thoughts about the gang’s “split up in an emergency” policy. The idea that someone should escape to go for help was good in theory. On the other hand, considering the look of the thing that had sent him running, there might not be much of him left to help when the others did get here.
    Ray’s second thoughts turned to dead certainty when he peeked around the edge of a crate and saw that the red-eyed monstrosity had chosen to come after him instead of Trip. No question about it: He did not want to face that thing alone!
    Spurred by fear, he shot from between the crates and hurtled down a narrow canyon formed by stacks of boxes. What is that thing, anyway? he wondered as he raced around a corner. Where did it come from?
    He ducked through a small passage on his right, hoping to lose the relentless pursuer. His breath was getting short and a throbbing pain was tying knots in his side. He couldn’t go on much longer!
    Glancing fearfully over his shoulder, Ray was relieved to see that he had broken away. But looking back was a mistake, for with his next step he stumbled over a box and sprawled facedown on the floor.
    His glasses went flying out in front of him.
    As he scrambled for them, he heard a whirring noise behind him.
    Behind that, he heard a deep laugh.
    Who’s back there? he wondered.
    A chill shivered along his spine. What if Black Glove has come back?
    He searched desperately for his glasses, his hands scuttling over the floor like a pair of spastic spiders.
    Where are they? Crawling forward, he bumped against another box. It rattled.
    He could hear his pursuer closing in behind him.
    The box was open. He thrust his hands into it, on the chance that his glasses might have fallen inside.
    Ball bearings!
    Without an instant’s hesitation, he turned the box over and sent several thousand perfect metal spheres rolling across the floor.
    A shout of anger let him know his move had scored.
    But before he could congratulate himself, he was plucked from the floor by a pair of metallic hands.
    Even without his glasses, Ray knew he was face-to-face with the red-eyed monstrosity that had been pursuing him.
    Ignoring the treacherous curves in the road, Roger pushed his dune buggy to the limits of its speed. They had to get to Trip and Ray!
    His sense of urgency was fueled by the guilt he felt over tampering with Rinty’s program. He was painfully aware that his lighthearted joke had delayed the delivery of the computerized canine’s vital message. Not by more than thirty seconds, of course. But the last mess the gang had been in had taught Roger all too well that half a minute could mean the difference between life and death.
    The dune buggy bounced on. Because its electric motor was completely silent, the only sound was the complaining of the springs and an occasional screech as they rounded a sharp curve.
    I should have left well enough alone , he thought. It’s just that Wendy’s so much fun to tease!
    Of course, that was partly because it was so easy. The slightest thing could set her off; Hap had once called the Wonderchild a “four-foot stick of dynamite with a two-inch fuse.” And the little twerp was really cute when she got angry.
    â€œWatch where you’re going!” cried Hap.
    Roger focused on the road and spun the steering wheel sharply to the right. The dune buggy swerved, bounced in a rut, and barely missed slamming into a roadside tree.
    â€œClose one, good buddy!” said Hap, as calmly as if he were describing a near miss in a game of marbles. “Better keep your mind on the road.”
    â€œSorry about that,” said Roger sheepishly. He was glad Wendy wasn’t in the buggy with them. Then he would never hear the