Before Tick could say anything, a loud clang filled the air, and a source of faint light made him look to his left. A huge door had swung open, and a dark figure stood in the widening crack, mostly in shadow because the glowing, orange light source was behind him. Or her. Or it. Tick couldn’t quite tell yet.
The door opened all the way until it came to rest flush against the wall, their visitor standing alone in the doorframe. Something was odd about the thing, and when the light behind it flared brighter, as if someone had stoked a fire, Tick got a good look for the first time.
It was man-sized and man-shaped, but any other comparison to a human being ended there. The creature had no eyes, no nose, no mouth, no ears. Its arms were stumps without hands. Winding strips of what looked like thick cotton covered every inch of the thing’s body, protruding from the skin, moving and swaying back and forth like flags in the wind. Each strip was about a foot long, and they shot out from the body as if charged with static electricity.
“What . . . who . . .” Sofia began but didn’t finish.
Tick and Paul remained silent.
The creature turned its head, looking without eyes at each of them in turn, its odd strips whipping the air like they were trying to escape and fly away.
A rush of chills ran along Tick’s arms and shoulders.
A female voice came from somewhere down the tunnel, echoing and bouncing its way to them like scurrying bats. The voice was strong, but whispery. Scratchy. Creepy. It said only two words.
“Firekelt, burn.”
In that instant, Tick remembered the water monsters that had tried to kill his mom and dad. Jane had called them
waterkelts.
Kelts
must be some term she used for her new creations. And if this one was a
firekelt
—
Bright, flaring light cut off Tick’s thought.
Each strip of cloth on the creature’s body from head to toe ignited into searing hot fire, like a thousand old-fashioned wicks soaked in oil. Flames licked out in every direction, the blazing ribbons whooshing and spitting and hissing so that the monster looked like Medusa with fiery snakes.
Intense heat radiated from the firekelt and washed over Tick in waves as he backed away, Sofia and Paul right by his side. Sweat beaded on Tick’s forehead, dripping into his eyes.
The creature took one step toward them, sudden and quick. Then another. The strips continued licking at the air like tiny solar flares, raging with fire but not burning up in the least.
“What do we do?” Tick shouted.
“Got a bucket of water on ya?” Paul responded.
“It won’t hurt you,” said a voice from behind the flaming monster, that same scratchy voice that had instructed it to burn in the first place. Tick guessed it was Mistress Jane, and when she spoke again, he had no doubt. “Firekelt, extinguish.”
A great swooshing rush of air swept through the door and swirled inside the big room. It intensified, seeming to come from all directions at once and gusting back and forth like a hurricane. Tick instinctively reached out and grabbed Paul for support, feeling as if he were about to be swept off his feet. Sofia joined them, and they huddled together in a strange group hug.
The wind tore at the firekelt, whipping its flames toward Tick and the others. The odd wicks flapped tightly, parallel to each other as they tried to tear loose from the body of the creature. The fires flared brighter at first, but then flickered and sputtered under the enormous pressure of the windstorm. Each flame traveled down the course of the strips until they reached the ends, holding on for dear life. The creature waved its arms in frustration, helpless. Then the final small blazes winked out, throwing the room back into relative darkness.
The wind stopped without warning. The sudden silence that descended almost popped Tick’s ears. Hesitant, he let go of his friends. He looked at the firekelt, mostly in shadow again because of the faint orange light still coming from behind it.
The creature stood tall, defiant. Each flameless wick began to move about again as if a slight breeze still remained.
Mistress Jane spoke again, her raspy voice making Tick want to cough and clear his own throat. “The firekelts are mostly used for lighting purposes only. You’ll have to pardon my desire to show them off—I’m quite proud of my creations. Now, feel no alarm when it lights up again. Firekelt, burn.”
Sparse flames ignited on the tips of the wicks then worked themselves brighter and brighter, consuming the cloth-like tentacles for several seconds until they were fully on fire again. The light seemed even brighter this time; Tick finally had to look away, splotches of afterglow in his vision.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the firekelt turn away and walk out of the room, taking most of the light with it. Then the robed and hooded figure of Mistress Jane replaced the creature, standing in the doorway, the front of her completely in shadow. She clasped a tall staff made of wood in her heavily scarred right hand.
“Welcome to the Factory,” she said, as sincerely as a tour guide. “I’m sorry our last meeting didn’t go so well. I promise things are going to be different this time. Yes, things are going to be very, very different.”
~
Sato had finally asked all the people from Mothball’s Reality to sit down, cross-legged, so he could actually see them as he spoke. Even then, the tops of their heads came to the middle of his chest, which made it all the more absurd that he was suddenly their leader. But there they were, rows of soldiers sitting on the checkered marble-like stone of this bizarre place, all eyes upon him.
After a long break, he’d reassembled the group. He had no clue how long it’d be before Tick—or whoever—winked them away. Or even if it was really going to happen.
No, he believed it. Tick’s voice had been alive in that note, as had the urgency he felt. Something big was about to happen, and Sato had to get these people ready to help with it.
“You gonna stand there all day or talk to us?” said Rutger, sitting in the front row, just a few feet from Sato.
“Hold on! I’m thinking. If you wanna get up here and lead this army yourself, then do it!”
Instead of being taken aback, Rutger nodded, as if in approval. As if he were proud of his own son standing up here. This annoyed Sato greatly.
Next to Rutger were the Higginbottoms—Mom and Dad, Lisa and Kayla—the four of them having not separated an inch since being reunited. Of all the things that worried Sato about what was coming up, Tick’s family was Number One. They obviously couldn’t fight—not with Kayla to care for. They protested, of course, when Sato had pointed that out earlier, but even then it was halfhearted. Their first priority had to be keeping Kayla safe, and going to off to battle wasn’t the best way to do that. But Sato didn’t know what else to do with them.
He realized he was staring at the family; Mr. Higgin-bottom tentatively waved at him. Sato shook his head slightly and tried to save himself by smiling.
Okay,
he thought,
I have to get on with this.
He returned his attention to the waiting rows of Fifths. “I guess it’s time for my big motivational speech. We could be winked away from here at any second to the Thirteenth Reality, where very dangerous stuff is going to happen. I hope you’re all a little more aware of things like winking and other worlds by now—I know Mothball and her family have been around talking to you all about it. Well, none of that matters much. All we need to care about is that we’re going to a bad place, and we need to save some good people and a lot of children.”
He was relieved to hear a low rumble of positive responses—“Yeah,” and “Let’s get ’em,” and “Ruddy ready, we are”—along with vigorous nods and shaking of fists. These really were a warrior people—Sato would never doubt it again. How the Bugaboos had lasted this long against them, he had no idea. Of course, they came from the same stock, he supposed . . .
“We’ve got no weapons!” someone shouted from the back, breaking into his thoughts. Then another person called out, “Don’t even know who we’re ruddy fighting! Or what!”
Instinct told Sato what he needed to say in response. If their confidence was going to be solidified, it needed to come from within. “Good questions! So, are you saying we should give up? Not even try? Throw in the towel?”
A chorus of angry denials thundered through the vast space, a deafening roar backed by red faces and pumping fists. Some even stood, looking as if they might charge Sato and wallop him for even suggesting such a thing.
“No, I didn’t think so!” he yelled as loud as he possibly could. The Fifths quieted. “We’ll fight with our hands and our feet, with sticks and stones! We’ll fight with our elbows and knees! Whatever it takes!”
A shocked silence greeted this last part. Mothball finally said from her spot, “A bit much, but I like your spirit, I do.” A few chuckles rose from the crowd.
Sato would have none of it. “I don’t care if it’s a
bit much.
If you guys wanna take this as a joke and treat me like a little kid, then fine! But we don’t have weapons, so we have to be willing to
do
terrible things to
stop
the terrible things we’re about to see! Are you willing or not?”
Impossibly, the chorus that greeted him was even stronger than before, piercing his eardrums with a needle of sharp pain. The roar went on and on, and this time every single Fifth stood up, arms raised to the sky, shouting and screaming. Sato let it go on, looking around with a stoic face, accepting their display of devotion.
When it started to die down naturally, he lit into them again. “When this is over, when we’ve gone to the Thirteenth and rescued our friends, when we’ve destroyed this unnatural and evil factory of creatures, we won’t stop. We’ll go back to your world, we’ll gather more people—the greatest army the world has ever seen—and we’ll wipe the Bugaboos from existence!”
More shouts, more cheers. Sato kept going, trying with all his might to increase the volume of his already strained voice.
“We are the Fifth Army! Say it with me! The Fifth Army!”
He raised a fist to the sky and screamed the words, ripping his throat to pieces. “The Fifth Army! The Fifth Army! The Fifth Army!” His soldiers shouted the words along with him, a sound so loud it seemed to shake the strange floor upon which they stood.
Sato stopped, knowing he’d need his voice in the hours to come. The others didn’t quit, however, and kept chanting as if they never planned to stop.
Rutger stepped to Sato’s side. “Nice work. Now what?”
“Now we wait for the call,” Sato said. “It’s coming, and when it does, we’ll be ready.”
~
Lisa watched the pep rally with mixed feelings—a whole barrage of them.
Her parents sat to either side of her, Kayla in her lap, the four present members of the Higginbottom clan clasped in an awkward but wonderful hug. Despite having everything in their world turned upside down, Lisa felt safe at the moment. But deep down she knew the feeling was fleeting, and there were a thousand and one things to worry about.
Sato’s speech had really shocked her. He’d seemed quiet for one thing, and then to suddenly stand in front of this crowd of human giants and speak so loudly and convincingly was quite a thing to see. She thought his speech was a little bit on the cheesy side with a few roll-the-eye moments, but that’s what you needed for something like this. Overall, very impressive.
But still.
What could they do? What could a few hundred people—even tall, gangly, gimme-some-blood warrior giants—do against this psycho lady Mistress Jane? And more importantly—personally, selfishly—what was going to happen to Lisa and her family? They couldn’t go to this Thirteenth Reality place and fight. The idea was ridiculous. She almost laughed at the picture of herself running around like a chimpanzee trying to jump on bad guys and, what—bite their ears?
Plus, there was Kayla to think about. Lisa and her parents had already decided that the battles and the mysteries and the monsters should be left to the Realitants—including her own brother, Tick. For the rest of the Higginbottoms, staying away from danger and protecting Kayla was all that mattered. They couldn’t do much else, anyway.
Could they?
Lisa hugged Kayla a little tighter to her chest.
~
The Haunce floated in eternity.
The Haunce floated in the spaces between the spaces, in the darkness between the light, the light between the darkness. It floated in the smallest of the small and the largest of the large. It was everywhere and nowhere, up and down, left and right, big and small.
The Haunce floated and watched, its countless soulikens observing and communicating on a scale no individual human could ever understand.
The lull in the catastrophe Jane had started was almost over. The slipping and cracking and shattering of the Barriers would resume soon. And then it wouldn’t stop until all was lost.
Atticus had reached Jane. They were together in the Factory.
It was time.
The Haunce floated—and watched.
Then it acted.
First, remembering the most human of emotions—compassion—it sent the family of Atticus back to their home. There, they would be safe, as long as everything went according to plan.
Once done with that—a thing that took less than a nanosecond of time—the Haunce winked Sato and his makeshift army to the Thirteenth Reality.
Chi’karda’s Power
~
Tick and his two friends followed Mistress Jane down a long tunnel dug into the bedrock beneath ground, the hissing flames of the firekelt the only sound and light. No one spoke, no one asked questions, no one made any threats against anyone’s life. Tick rattled his thoughts with each step, trying to come up with the best way to talk to Jane about what needed to happen and to convince her that they needed to put their heads and powers together to stop the Realities from imploding.