But he didn’t know what to say or do. Was he supposed to wait for the Haunce to show up? He sure hoped so, because he didn’t have the first clue how to go about things.
They turned a corner around a jagged edge of dark stone, Jane and her fiery creation a step ahead of them. But Tick stopped. He felt and heard the same womping sound he’d experienced back in the woods near his home, right before finding Jane in his basement. Right before this whole mess started.
Womp.
There it was again—a faint but definite pulse of energy, the vibration of horns and bees.
Womp.
Paul and Sofia took another couple of steps before noticing he’d quit walking.
“What’s wrong?” Sofia asked.
Jane noticed as well, turning around to face them. She tilted her wooden staff forward as though about to strike him with some magical spell. The wavering splashes of light from the dancing firekelt flames turned her red mask the hue of wet blood.
Womp.
“Why have you stopped?” the robed tyrant asked in her painful, raspy voice. “Don’t even think of trying anything—there’s more Chi’karda coiled inside this Barrier Staff than you’ve seen in all your prior glimpses combined. I programmed it especially for you, Atticus Higginbottom. It’s set to unleash its fury on you the second you even breathe a wisp of the power.”
Womp.
Tick felt each and every energy pulse like a wall of water crashing over him. “I just . . . I just keep feeling surges of Chi’karda. Why?” He ignored her threat about her Barrier Staff; they had bigger problems to solve before he could worry about himself.
Jane hesitated, her mask void of expression, probably mulling over whether he was being sincere or trying to trick her. Finally, she said, “You and I are very sensitive to the ripples of energy triggered by Chi’karda, Atticus. I think it’s something you picked up since growing more in tune with the power inside you. Get used to it, or it’ll drive you crazy. Especially in the Factory, where it’s constantly churning. Now come on—I want to show you something.”
Womp.
This time the pulse did feel a little more distant, like a constant breeze that he’d grown accustomed to. Or maybe more like breathing—you realize it’s happening only when you think about it.
“Jane . . .” Tick began, wanting to bring up the subject of his mission and get it over with. But the words lodged somewhere down his throat.
“You will call me
Mistress
Jane,” she said with a flare of anger on her mask. “After the horrible things you’ve done to me, I would think you could at least find a smattering of respect for your elders. For your superiors.”
Tick didn’t care about his pride anymore. He didn’t even feel an ounce of fear for this woman. The only thing that mattered—that throbbed in his mind like a beating heart—was what the Haunce wanted him to do.
“I’m sorry.
Mistress Jane.
Whatever. We’ll do whatever it is you want us to, and we’ll see whatever it is you want us to see, but we need to talk first. Something really bad is about to happen, and I . . . we . . . need your help.”
Jane’s face melted into a slight frown, a look of curiosity on her mask. She took a few steps toward him. “I can tell you’re not lying. What are you talking about?”
Her response surprised Tick, and something told him that the only reason she didn’t fly off the handle was because she already suspected the truth. He played for that angle. “You have to know that things really went screwy when you tried to destroy the Fifth Reality with your dark matter Blade of Shattered Hope. Well, things are worse than you think. A lot worse. You made the Barriers unstable and ignited a whole bunch of bad stuff that’s gonna end up wiping us all away. We have only a few hours until we’ll all be dead—thanks to you.”
Jane didn’t answer for a long time, her eyes concentrating on Tick, her hand gripping the odd staff. Tick wondered if maybe it just looked like wood but was actually something else. She’d called it a
Barrier Staff
. . .
She finally spoke. “How could you know these things, Atticus? What kind of trick—”
“It’s not a trick!” Tick yelled. “You’re supposed to be the grown-up here! Act like it! The Haunce rescued me from you—and it told me all this stuff. Your Blade of Shattered Hope did something really bad to the Realities, and we have one chance to fix it.”
Her red mask sharpened and tightened into a fit of rage; she visibly shook.
Tick knew he had to save himself, and quickly. “I’m sorry—just please listen to me! If I’m lying, you can do whatever you want to me, I swear. I promise I won’t even touch Chi’karda. Just please listen.”
Womp.
There it was again, the first time he’d noticed the energy pulse in several minutes. Jane had been right—he was getting used to it.
“You dare stand there,” Jane said, “looking at me with that pathetic little innocent face of yours, and tell me this? That the Haunce visited you? Spoke to you? You expect me to believe such nonsense? You almost had me until you took it that far. Your capacity for evil was proven quite well back in the Fourth, but to lie like that . . . amazing. Do you even have a conscience?”
Tick sucked in a few dry breaths, frustrated into silence. He wouldn’t have guessed she’d believe him right away, but her tone and arrogance made it seem as if she wouldn’t even consider the truth. He finally snagged some words and forced them out.
“Seriously, Ja—Mistress Jane? You’re seriously going to act like that and not even hear me out? Are you so full of yourself that you’d risk the whole universe?” He threw his arms up then slapped the sides of his legs. “Unbelievable. Fine—do what you want. The Haunce’ll be coming here soon anyway. Maybe you’ll believe it.”
Jane walked toward him again, not stopping until she stood only a foot or two away. Her yellow robe glowed in the firelight; her now-stoic mask shimmered and glistened. Her scarred, metal-pocked hand gripped the Staff tightly, the bones seemingly ready to burst through the taut skin.
“Look into my eyes, boy,” she whispered, a sandy croak of sound.
“I already am,” Tick replied, standing as straight as he could and holding onto the small amount of courage he’d scrounged up from within. “All I can see are little black holes with no life in ’em.”
“You . . .” She made an odd squeak like someone holding back tears. “If it weren’t for you, things would be so different. I could’ve stopped Chu and used his technology for good. I wouldn’t be scarred and hideous from head to toe. Do you have any idea how hard it is to lead when people can’t even glance at you? Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to look like a monster? And if it weren’t for you, the Blade would’ve functioned perfectly, and we’d be on our way to a Utopian Reality. But no, you’ve ruined everything. You’ve ruined my . . .”
She stopped and shook her head slightly. “No. I won’t say that. You’ve made things difficult—no doubt about it. But you haven’t ruined everything. You haven’t ruined my life. Do you know why, Atticus? Because I won’t give up. I’ll overcome it all, and in the end, I . . . will . . . win. I promise you.”
Tick momentarily lost every bit of hatred for the woman. Every bit of frustration and angst. The only thing he felt was pity. And the familiar pang of guilt for what he’d done to her.
“Mistress Jane,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did in Chu’s building. I promise I didn’t mean to. I swear.”
“You’re sorry, you promise, you swear. Too little, too late, as they say.” She started to turn from him.
Tick reached out and grabbed a fold of her robe. She spun and knocked his hand away, glaring at him. “Don’t . . . touch . . . me!”
Tick stepped back, trying to shrink into the wall behind him. A spark of Chi’karda flared inside him, but he pushed it away. Something about that tall staff gripped in her hand terrified him. Plus, this was no time to battle her—he had to win her over.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, trying to throw as much humility into his voice as possible.
Jane touched the top edge of her staff to Tick’s head, then pulled it back. “I’m not a fool, Atticus. I’ll listen to what you have to say. But first, you will come and see the Factory. I want you to see my gift to science. I want you to see me change the world.”
And with that, she turned away and set off down the tunnel.
~
One second, Lisa had been sitting on the cold, hard floor of the magical nowhere place, Kayla gripped in her arms. The next, she felt a tingle shoot down her back, and their surroundings changed completely. From light to dark, from vast and open to close quarters. She sat on something soft. Kayla was still in her lap, Mom on her left, Dad on her right.
“We’re home,” her dad said, squirming to stand up. “We’re home!”
Lisa knew he was right before he’d said it the second time. The faintest glimmer of dawn—or twilight?—shone through the curtains of their living room windows. She saw the worn-out armchair her mom always sat in to wait for them after school, the piano, the crooked arrangement of family photos on the wall.
Dad stood in the middle of the room, slowly turning with his arms outstretched like that lady in the wildflower-strewn mountain field in
The Sound of Music.
Though he looked a lot more ridiculous. Lisa laughed, which sent Kayla into a fit of giggles.
“I think we’ve officially had the strangest day in the history of our family,” Mom said, leaning back on the sofa with her arms folded, smiling at Dad. “But I have to say, I’m a little offended that whoever is in charge doesn’t think we could help out in this fight of theirs.”
Dad toppled a bit, obviously having grown dizzy. He collapsed into the armchair, its springs groaning in complaint. “Come on, dear. We’re not cut out for that stuff. Especially with Kayla and Lisa to think about. Let the Realitants do their job—and I’m sure Tick’ll be home safe and sound before we know it.”
Lisa agreed about Kayla, but felt a little swell of self-
defense spring up inside her. “Hey, speak for yourself, Dad. I could’ve helped Sato. Put me in a room with this Mistress Jane witch, and I’ll show her what bony knees and sharp nails I have.”
Mom reached over and squeezed Lisa’s knee. “That’s my girl. Maybe old Master George will be knocking on our door for you once this is over.” She looked down at the floor, her smile fading. Then she seemed to catch herself and brought it back, returning her gaze to Lisa.
“What, Mom?” Lisa said. “What’s wrong?”
Her mom had a second of surprise on her face, probably chagrined that she’d been caught. “Oh, well, it’s nothing really. I guess I just feel a little ashamed that I quit being a Realitant all those years ago.”
Lisa thought long and hard about that. She gave Kayla a squeeze before gently pushing her over to sit with Dad, who took her into his arms while his eyes darted back and forth between Lisa and Mom.
“What’s goin’ on in those heads of yours?” he asked.
Lisa reached out and took her mom’s hand, helping her stand up. “Dad, Mom and I are gonna play a big part in all this. Somehow. Aren’t we, Mom?”
Mom stared at her with glistening eyes. “Why . . . yes, Lisa. Yes, I think we are.”
“Good. Let’s be ready when the time comes.”
~
Sato had known it was coming—hoped it was coming, anyway—but he still felt a thrill of shock when the winking tingle scooted across his neck and back. He instinctively started to yell at the people of the Fifth to get ready, but of course, by the time any words popped out of his mouth, they’d already arrived at their location.
They stood in a big field of drying mud. The morning sun had just lifted over a forest to their left, its brilliance cutting through the last leaves and branches at the very top. To their right was a huge wall of stacked logs, stretching in both directions until they curved away and disappeared. The air smelled truly awful, like a rotting dump.
Sato had a few horrible seconds when self-doubt hit him as he looked back at his army. Most of them were gawking left and right at the place to which they’d come, many patting their chests and arms in disbelief at the seemingly magical experience of having been winked there. Sato didn’t know what he’d been thinking—how could he lead an army? He had zero experience, zero training, zero confidence. What was he supposed to do? Yell, “Charge!” and start rushing the fence? The whole idea seemed ridiculous all of a sudden.
The Fifths appeared to be gathering their wits a lot quicker than he was. Sato watched as they stood in rows, composed and standing at attention, waiting for him to give a command. They really were warriors. They really did consider him their leader.
Buck up,
he told himself.
When this is all over, then you can sit down and have a good cry about it.
“Okay, listen up!” he yelled. Rutger, Mothball, and her parents were standing right in front of him in the very first row. He exchanged glances with his two fellow Realitants, relieved to see there’d be no teasing. Time for business.
When the Fifths had quieted and all the attention turned to Sato, he continued. “We don’t know what to expect, what kind of defenses they have, who’s watching us—anything. Jane could send a whole pack of fangen or who-knows-what at us any second now, so we need to get moving. I want us to split into three groups: left, right, middle.” He pointed as he spoke. “Middle group stays here, close to the fence. Rutger, you and I will stay with them.”
The short man nodded, his face scrunched up as if considering whether he’d gotten a good assignment or a bad one.
Sato pointed to the left. “Left group, you guys go around the perimeter that way. Right group, go that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction. “I want you to run as quickly as possible while still being able to keep a good lookout. With any luck, you’ll make your way around that wall and meet up on the other side. Then come back here. We’ll decide what to do based on what you learn.”
As the Fifths separated into smaller groups, Sato started doubting his first major decision. What if they were attacked? What if, by splitting up, they’d weakened themselves too much? What if the groups never hooked back up again? What if . . . what if . . . what if?