Donning plastic coveralls and rubber boots, he climbed a ladder and opened the inspection hatch, high in the dome wall. Tom stepped through and dropped to the concrete floor. The “mix” was already waist-high. The young inventor had to plow 96 REPELATRON SKYWAY
his way with difficulty through the sticky substance, but gradually worked himself into position to examine the nozzles. Standing a few feet away, he cleaned out the nozzles with a wire, then readjusted the size of the apertures.
“Whew! I guess that does it,” Tom said to himself. “They seem to be spouting okay now.”
Tom tried to turn and make his way to the hatch again. To his horror, he could scarcely movel
“The stuff’s hardening!” he realized.
For several moments Tom floundered helplessly, fighting down a growing sense of panic. It was no use-the plastic foam was “setting” as firmly as cement! He was trapped!
“Help!” Tom yelled. Again and again he shouted until his throat was hoarse. No one answered.
Fear gripped him as he realized that it was long past quitting time. No one was within earshot. Meanwhile, the machine was running at full power, continuing to pump Durafoam-and the controls were outside the mixing chamber, far beyond reach!
In minutes he would be completely entombed in the plastic foam!
CHAPTER XI
A WEIRD MONSTER
SUMMONING all his willpower, Tom fought to steady his nerves. It was the colder air from outside the chamber, he realized, that was causing the mix to set.
“What a blockhead I was, not to close the hatch after I climbed in!” Tom thought.