Rick Brick and the Quest to Save Brickport Read online

  Copyright © 2015 by Hollan Publishing, Inc.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

  Special thanks to Tamson Weston.

  Cover design by Gretchen Schuyler

  Cover illustration credit: Matt Armstrong

  Print ISBN: 978-1-63450-149-1

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-63450-923-7

  Printed in Canada

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Trouble in Brickport

  Chapter Two

  The Answer to Brickport’s Prayers?

  Chapter Three

  In Search of the Onyx Brick

  Chapter Four

  The Gate to Gold

  Chapter Five

  Down the Toilet

  Chapter Six

  Dinosaur in Space

  Chapter Seven

  Back to Earth

  Chapter Eight

  Almost Home

  Chapter Nine

  A City of Grunts

  Chapter Ten

  Fool’s Gold

  Chapter Eleven

  Brand New City, Brand New Day

  CHAPTER ONE

  TROUBLE IN BRICKPORT

  Rick watched the Ferris wheel turn above him, the highest point rising up over the water with a clear view all the way to the open ocean, just as he had planned it. He could hear the gleeful screams of the passengers as he arranged the final colorful bricks in the mosaic he was working on just below their feet.

  “Beautiful work, Rick,” said the mayor. He looked up to see her smiling over him. But then, out of nowhere, a siren blared. But it wasn’t a siren, really. It sounded more like a horn or a loud truck backing up. In fact, the more closely Rick listened, the more he noticed it sounded exactly like . . . his alarm clock.

  Rick rolled off his squat brick bed and landed face first on the studded floor. It had all been a lovely dream. Had Rick not fallen out of bed, he might have stayed in his perfect dream world all day. As it was, he was tempted to remain on the floor. When he finally pulled himself to his feet, he tripped over his briefcase on the way to the bathroom. His toothbrush was stuck in the rack, and as he yanked it out, he knocked his favorite razor into the toilet. Luckily, Rick didn’t have much use for the razor. His face was always shiny and smooth, whether he shaved or not.

  Rick brushed his teeth vigorously. His expression might have been as cheerful as usual, but his spirits were low. He had a meeting with his partner, Rita, that he was not looking forward to. Business was bad at Brick and Block Builders, the company he and Rita co-owned. The town of Brickport was almost bankrupt and no one wanted new buildings anymore. With a heavy sigh, Rick wiped toothpaste from his mouth with his pajama sleeve and went to the bedroom to get dressed.

  Putting on his shoes took longer than usual—he couldn’t get them to click into place. Rick was nearly out the door before he realized he’d snapped his shirt on backwards. Thankfully, he was having a good hair day—but then every day was a good hair day in Brickport. Even when everything else was falling apart, you could still count on your hair to be perfect. With a deep breath, Rick picked up his briefcase and headed out the door.

  He wandered down Pegg Street toward Rotor Boulevard. As he turned the corner, he tripped over the edge of a sidewalk baseplate and slid several feet on his stomach.

  “Blasted sidewalk!” yelled Rick, to no one in particular.

  Rick tripped in a different spot on his walk almost every day. The flat gray bricks and slabs that made up the sidewalks in Brickport never matched or fit together properly. Some of them weren’t even locked onto other bricks. One misstep could send a whole piece spinning across the street. Many of the studs on the sidewalk blocks were worn off completely. It made the hills even more difficult to climb.

  The buildings that lined the sidewalks were in no better shape. Most of them couldn’t even be called buildings—they had fallen completely apart or had been picked apart so that they were more space than brick. Two-by-twos and two-by-fours had been pulled out of the middle of walls. Corner bricks were missing on many buildings. Even the structures that were still standing and intact were depressing to look at. Many of them had been put up fast to make a quick buck, and now they sat empty. Odd-shaped pieces from various sets were crammed together haphazardly—because the right bricks weren’t available—and none of the colors matched. Everything was being gradually picked apart. Rick wondered if he might just walk outside one day and find nothing but piles of odd-shaped pieces that were of no use to anyone. The thought made him sad. He liked to think that most bricks had a job, that there was at least one place for every brick.

  Rick turned toward the harbor. It took a little longer to get to work that way, but he liked the walk better. Boats still came to the port, even though there weren’t quite as many of them. There weren’t nearly as many recreational boats as there once were—they had sailed for bluer seas. The parks were covered with garbage and broken equipment, but there were still green baseplates here and there, and clusters of plants and flowers that some of the residents had attached to help cheer things up—without help from the city. There was hope, if you were willing to look for it. It was hard for Rick to give up on Brickport. It had always been his home, and he loved it.

  Rick turned right at the corner and headed toward Starbricks. There was a scuffle in front of the entrance. Three young men were teasing a scruffy old man wearing a battered trench coat and a captain’s hat.

  “Nice hat, Cap’n. How much you want for it?” said the biggest boy in the group. “Nothing? Good!” He held the cap in the air, just out of the old man’s reach.

  “Hey! Hey! Leave him alone!” Rick shouted. He tried to look as intimidating as possible. The boys turned toward him, shocked.

  “Oh, you want the hat, Mr. Tough Guy?” the leader said. “Catch!”

  Rick reached out with both hands and dropped his briefcase.

  “That’s a good trade!” said the smallest boy. He grabbed the case and bolted. His friends followed.

  Rick didn’t bother to chase them. “Aw, what’s the use,” he said. He handed the old man his hat. “Here you go, Stan. I can’t imagine you without this.”

  Stan was an old friend. Rick usually ran into him a couple times a week and stopped to chat and share a cup of coffee. The old guy was a lot like Brickport. His shoes were worn and his coat was threadbare, but behind his rough exterior was a different story. Rick liked talking to Stan because Stan knew about the old Brickport. Like Rick, Stan still had hope that the city could return to its former glory. But that hope slowly faded with every missing brick.

  “Buy you a coffee?” Rick asked.

  “Why, thank you, Rick. That’s mighty kind of you,” Stan replie
d.

  They said the same thing every time they met. And then they talked about the news and the state of Brickport. Usually Rick played the part of the cheerleader. He always had big ideas to share. But this was the worst morning in a string of bad mornings, and Rick just wasn’t up for a pep talk today.

  “Haven’t heard much from the mayor lately,” said Stan.

  “Ah, she’s just like every other crooked politician,” Rick replied. “City of Dreams my foot. She never had any intention of building that community center.”

  “Rick! That doesn’t sound like you!” said Stan.

  “I’m sorry, Stan, but that’s how I feel,” Rick said. He sighed deeply.

  “Something eating you? Out with it!” said Stan.

  “Rita and I are meeting at the office this morning to discuss business. We’ve been avoiding talking about it, but now I think it’s time to face the music. We’re gonna have to close down Brick and Block.”

  “That is bad news . . . I’m sorry to hear it,” said Stan.

  “Thanks, Stan,” Rick said. “It’s a tough call, but no new jobs have come in for a while. No one cares about Brickport anymore . . . except us, of course.”

  “Isn’t there something I can do?” Stan asked.

  “I don’t think so, Stan. Just keep having coffee with me . . . and reminding me what’s good about Brickport,” said Rick.

  “I’d be happy to,” said Stan.

  “Well, I better get going,” said Rick.

  “Try to cheer up,” called Stan. “The answer may be right around the corner.”

  Rick had thought things might change after the last election. Mayor Minn E. Figg had promised to clean up the town, beginning with the port. She had also promised to build a community center with parks and gardens and little shops and offices for the city’s residents. But after an initial flurry of speeches and public appearances, Mayor Figg had all but disappeared. In fact, Rick couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard the mayor speak. She always sent someone else to speak for her—someone who managed to answer questions without really answering them.

  Rick took a left and headed back toward the port. It would take a little longer, but he was in no hurry to face bad news. Besides, he wanted to pass one of his favorite places in Brickport.

  An old band shell faced out toward the harbor. Like everything else in town, pieces of the structure had been scavenged so that it wasn’t even quite a shell anymore. What should have been a smooth stretch of gray was interrupted with divots and holes where plates and bricks had been pulled away. Most of the seats were missing, too. But just next to the band shell was a semicircle of trees and a wide, green field—or mostly green, anyway. Kids still gathered there occasionally to play soccer or to ride skateboards.

  Even now, a group of street dancers gathered at the center of the band shell. Rick stopped to watch them. The park wasn’t really so bad. A new green baseplate or two could be brought in to fill the holes in the field, and some gray tiles and new seats would do the trick for the band shell. The loose bricks just needed to be collected and placed where they once were. Rick could picture plays and concerts being performed there once again. It was a perfect place for children to play and for family and friends to gather. The trees seemed to demand that picnic blankets be spread beneath them. It was a wonder they hadn’t been removed from the base or had their branches pulled out yet.

  Rick continued walking with a final, sad look over his shoulder. He turned right on Angle Avenue toward Brick and Block Associates, the architecture and building firm he shared with his partner, Rita. He paused for a moment, studying the letters on the window. He had been so happy and full of hope the day they were stenciled. He and Rita had taken such pains to choose the right colors. Finally, Rick took a deep breath, fixed his hand on the door handle, and pushed it open.

  “How bad is it, Rita?” Rick asked, cutting to the chase. But Rita wasn’t alone. There, at the modest round conference table, sat an imposing figure in a dark suit. He had serious eyebrows and silly orange hair with a big round puff on the top. Beside him on the table lay a pair of white gloves. It had been so long since anyone but Rita or Rick had entered the office that Rick didn’t even know what to do at first. Could this be a new client? Or was it a bill collector?

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Brick,” said the man. “Nice of you to join us.”

  “Oh, uh . . .” Rick looked at his watch. “It’s only nine a.m. I wasn’t expecting . . .”

  “I suppose I’ll have to start again. I’m Dr. Francis Dubloon. I want to restore our fair city—”

  “—to its former glory,” Rita said, finishing Dr. Dubloon’s sentence. She had clearly heard it already.

  “Ahem. Yes, precisely,” he continued. “And if we are through with the interruptions, I’d like to ask for your assistance in doing so.”

  “Well, as I was saying just a minute ago, Dr. Dubloon,” said Rita, “Rick and I . . .”

  “Yes, yes, Miss Block. I’m sure you’re quite helpful,” said the doctor. “But I’m really looking for an architect who recalls those days of yore in Brickport. Before the riff-raff started stealing all the best bricks from our finest structures. Also, I understand you’re very well-loved in the community, Brick—is that right?”

  “This is my city, Dr. Dubloon. I love it, and it loves me,” Rick said with as much confidence as he could muster.

  “Good, good. And all your paperwork is in order, I presume? Proper licenses for building and so forth.”

  “Uh, yes, of course,” Rick answered.

  “Wonderful. Let’s get down to business then, shall we?” said Dr. Dubloon, tossing a heavy instruction book on the table.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE ANSWER TO BRICKPORT’S PRAYERS?

  Rick, Rita, and Dr. Dubloon spent two hours going over the thick instruction book. Dr. Dubloon did most of the talking, but since this was the first time they’d had a client in quite a while, Rick didn’t want to mess it up. Plus, just two hours earlier, Rick had been worried about the fate of their business, and now, suddenly, here was a solution! Rita tried to ask a few questions about how the community would be affected by the new building and whether they would present their plan at a town meeting, but Dr. Dubloon waved away her concerns.

  Finally, when there was a pause, Rick asked, “Doctor, this is a pretty thorough set of instructions. Nothing’s been left out.”

  “Yes. I’m glad you noticed,” Dr. Dubloon said, removing his coffee cup from a nearby stud on the table.

  “So,” Rick asked, “why do you need us? It seems you have this under control yourself.”

  “Well, I’ve had a bit of difficulty getting the proper paperwork in order. You know how troublesome all these rules and regulations can be.” Dr. Dubloon waved his hand around, as if at an invisible fly. “The mayor suggested that you might be a good solution to that problem. And the people in Brickport like you, do they not?”

  “I like to think so, yes,” said Rick.

  “Good. We’ll need that, too. Is one million dollars enough to get this project started?”

  “Uh, geez. Well . . . yes! That should be just fine!” Rick said. He looked over at Rita. She glared back. He wondered if he’d been too hasty, but it was such a big number!

  “Rick, can we chat for just a second?” Rita whispered.

  “Um . . .” Rick looked around the tiny office. “Would you please excuse us for a moment, Doctor?”

  “Over here,” Rita said, waving Rick toward the coat closet. They walked inside.

  “I don’t know about this, Rick. I’ve got a bad feeling about Dr. Dubloon,” Rita said. She looked worried.

  “Rita, he may be a bit curt, but he’s offering us a million dollars!” Rick almost shouted.

  “Shhh! Keep your voice down. This guy could afford twice that. There’s just something I don’t like about him,” Rita whispered.

  “I know he’s a little odd. But do we have a choice?” Rick asked.

  Rita
sighed. “I guess not.”

  They opened the closet door and returned to the conference table.

  “You’ve got a deal, Dr. Dubloon,” Rick said, extending his hand.

  “Good.” Dr. Dubloon put on his gloves. Then he took Rick’s hand and shook it firmly. Rick took it back and stuck it to his wrist.

  “We’re going to take this town into the future, young man,” Dr. Dubloon said as he turned to leave.

  “Of course. But we’ll also be staying true to the way the city once was, right?” Rita asked.

  “Sure, sure.” Dr. Dubloon brushed Rita’s concerns aside with a wave of his hand. It was the same wave he had used to get rid of those pesky rules and regulations from earlier in the meeting. Then he walked out the door.

  Suddenly the whole day seemed new.

  “Wow! Rita, can you believe it?” Rick said. He was feeling the happiest he’d been in months.

  “Well, it’s certainly convenient timing, but I . . .”

  “Convenient timing? It’s just what I’ve been hoping for!” Rick shouted.

  “Sure, the money is good . . . but . . .”

  “It’s like a dream come true!”

  “That’s what worries me, Rick.”

  “Rita, you worry too much. The doctor is weird, but we only have to deal with him for one project. And this could be the beginning of a new day for Brickport,” Rick said, sitting back in his chair.

  “Yes, you said that, Rick, but look at those instructions. If you were going to build something to revitalize the city, would it be that building? It has turrets and a launching pad. It’s like the fort you designed when you were a little boy playing war. But Dr. Dubloon is no little boy. He’s got money and connections, and he’s not playing. What does he want with that building? What about the new parks you’ve been saying the city should have? What about the community? “

  “This will help the community, eventually. Look, can’t we just enjoy the moment? Just for now? Think of how many problems a million dollars will solve! Why are you so paranoid?” Rick leaned his elbows on the table.