Jonathan shot Carl a look, took a deep breath, and started again. “What I meant to say was, heaven would be lucky to have you, Shells. But unless you’re in a rush to get there, we need to start jumping.”
“Jumping?” Shelley repeated.
Jonathan nodded. “If we can’t lift the grate, maybe we can break through it?”
“Talk about a khaki-coated genius,” Shelley said as the two began jumping up and down.
“Occulta potentia in umbra. Occulta potentia in umbra…”
“I’ve never been one for long good-byes,” Carl said as he stepped toward Jonathan and Shelley and threw his arms around them. “Keep in touch… if they don’t kill you, that is.”
Creeeeaaaakkk. Creeeaaakkk.
“No!” Carl screamed as the grate dropped out from beneath them.
“Shhhhh!!!” Jonathan and Shelley responded as they free-fell through the unknown. Swathed in darkness, all they could do was hope that what awaited them was safer than those chasing them.
Thud!
NOVEMBER 2, 3:17 A.M. ORDER OF MERIUM. BULGARIA
What happened? Jonathan thought as he slowly roused to consciousness. My head hurts. No, wait—everything hurts, the boy noted as he opened his eyes. So dark was the room, he wondered if he might be blindfolded. Unable to move, his arms and legs tied tightly, he called out for his friend.
“Shells?”
“Johno?” Shelley offered faintly, “I can’t move.”
“Neither can I,” Jonathan answered.
“Guys,” Carl chimed in, “I’m here too, just in case you want to check on me.”
Jonathan and Shelley shook their heads. Carl was beginning to feel like a shadow, always creeping around behind them. But before they could even finish their thoughts, they heard it.
“Occulta potentia in umbra. Occulta potentia in umbra…”
“No!” Jonathan and Shelley shrieked as the lights switched on.
Their voices grew hoarse, their veins throbbed visibly across their throats, and their limbs trembled. Seated back to back in chairs, Jonathan, Shelley, and Carl took in the figures surrounding them, cloaked in black velvet floor-length robes and red masks. Deformed and drooping, the masks’ features appeared melted, much like a crayon left in the afternoon sun.
“White,” Carl mumbled as he looked at the stark floor and walls. “It’s my kryptonite. I can’t blend with white!”
“Gentlemen… and maybe ladies… it’s hard to tell with those outfits,” Shelley said as her grubby glasses slid down the bridge of her nose. “I know what you’re thinking: Let’s just kill these kids and call it a day. Maybe sing that terrible song a few more times and go to bed?”
“Shells? What are you doing?” Jonathan whispered.
“Shelltastic doesn’t give up without a fight or a speech,” Shelley answered before turning her attention back to the masked figures. “But here’s the thing: We’re as strong as steel. As loyal as a blind dog. And as devilish as a… deviled egg at a cocktail party… one that has gone bad… as in you’re going to have food poisoning for at least two days.”
A figure carrying a candelabra stepped forward and slowly lowered the ornate silver antique over Shelley, hot wax dribbling across the back of her hand.
“Ahhhh! Stop it! That hurts!”
“So,” Jonathan said, too numb to shout or cry or do any of the other things he would have expected, “this is the end.”
A scratchy voice replied, “No, this is only the beginning.…”
NOVEMBER 2, 7:45 A.M. TORTURE CHAMBER. ORDER OF MERIUM
Heavy—why are my legs so heavy? Why is my face so cold, almost numb? These were Jonathan’s first thoughts upon waking. Before he had even opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong. Very wrong. Lifting his face from the dusty cement floor, Jonathan looked down and noted the thick black wrought iron chains shackling him to the wall. He was in a cell with a barred window in the door. Sleeping next to Jonathan in the small space were Carl and Shelley. May they enjoy these last moments of freedom, Jonathan thought as a twinge of jealousy passed through him. How he longed to close his eyes and return to the safety of his dreams. In truth, he longed to be just about anywhere other than where he was. He had come to the Order of Merium to save his parents, but all he’d managed to do was obliterate his future, as well as Shelley’s and Carl’s. Oh, Carl, Jonathan thought, remembering the naiveté that had inspired the boy to jump out of the Dark Bird. But of course, Carl hadn’t known—none of them had—that the Order of Merium was to be the end of them.
Jonathan lifted his leg and the chain clanged. Unable to move more than a few inches in either direction, he imagined breaking the chains like superheroes so often did in comic books. But Jonathan Murray was no superhero and his life was far from a comic book. Even at his strongest, Jonathan was weak. And today, at this exact moment, he was weaker than he had ever been. His body ached from injuries, hunger, exhaustion, and hopelessness. His mind descended into a fog, slowing his thoughts and dulling his reactions. Shoulders hunched and arms crossed, Jonathan stared off into space, his breath audibly rattling through his chest.
“Tea and bread?” a soft voice came from the other side of the bars.
“What?” Jonathan mumbled, unsure of what he had even heard.
“Would you like some tea and bread?”
It was the boy from the kitchen: round, white, and pasty, with hair even frizzier than Jonathan remembered. Eyes trained on the floor, the boy appeared almost frightened of Jonathan. Was it possible that someone could be afraid of Jonathan? Had he changed so much? Was he no longer the human equivalent of a wet noodle?
“Harold, isn’t it?” Jonathan said, before licking his cracked lips.
It would only make his lips drier, he knew that, and yet he couldn’t resist that fleeting moment of relief that came when he ran his tongue across his chapped lips.
“How do you know my name?” the boy answered, still not looking up as he placed a tray on the floor and pushed it through a space in the bars.
Jonathan watched Harold closely. There was something about him, something that felt familiar. Harold didn’t look like anyone Jonathan knew; it wasn’t anything to do with his physicality but rather his energy. The feebleness, the insecurity, the sense that he was ill at ease not only in the world but in his own life—all of it reminded Jonathan of himself. The person he had been before the League, the boy who had gone through life thinking, I’m a nobody, destined for nothing.
“How do you know my name?” Harold repeated, his hands visibly trembling.
“We heard you talking to yourself in the kitchen while you were preparing food for the others,” Jonathan explained as he moved his legs, chains clanging.
Harold nodded. “So it’s true what they say about you. You’re spies.”
“Yes,” Shelley said as she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “But we’re not good spies… not that we’re bad spies… what I mean to say is we’re part of a team of spies that are known for not being good at anything except spying.”
“We’re operatives for the League of Unexceptional Children,” Jonathan added. “It’s an elite group that uses the United States’ most average children as spies. And I know what you’re thinking. Why would anyone want a bunch of average kids as spies? Well, it’s because no one notices us, and the few that do, they underestimate us.”
Harold furrowed his brow and hunched his shoulders, clearly uncomfortable. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because we know what it’s like not to fit in, to live on the sidelines,” Jonathan answered.
“I fit in,” Harold warbled as he quelled his trembling hands by making them into fists.
“Harry? Can I call you Harry?” Shelley interjected.
“Must you give everyone a nickname?” Jonathan muttered.
“Nicknames are like ketchup.… They make everything better,” Shelley explained to Jonathan before turning back toward Harold. “I can’t help but notice that you’
re the only one awake during the day.”
“Someone needs to tidy the house and prepare the food,” Harold said. “The Meriums count on me.”
“It’s nice to be needed, isn’t it?” Jonathan said.
“Yes, yes. They need me… very much. I cook and clean and cook and clean.…”
Shelley tried to move closer, her chains rustling. “Does anyone else cook or clean?”
Harold shook his head. “No.”
“Have you ever helped out in the real world, with projects or missions or whatever they call them?” Shelley continued.
“Once, but I wasn’t very good at it. I’ve never been very good at fibbing.”
“Fibbing?” Shelley repeated. “Isn’t that just another word for lying?”
Jonathan watched Harold closely; statuelike, he remained eerily still.
“Deep down, do you believe that what the Order of Merium is doing is right?” Shelley pressed on.
Harold finally looked up at Jonathan and Shelley. And for one brief second, they thought they had gotten through to him.
“I need to get back to work. There is much to do before the others wake.”
And with that, the boy scurried out.
Hours passed. Jonathan and Shelley talked, then fell silent, then slept, then screamed, then talked again. Tucked away in the basement without any natural light or fresh air, they waited. For what? Nothing good, that was all they knew for sure.
“We’re going to die in here,” Shelley muttered. “Years from now, some anthropologist is going to find our bones.”
“You never know, Shells; we just might get lucky and someone will find us sooner… then at least we’ll get funerals.”
“Who cares about funerals? That’s just one more party I don’t get to go to.”
“Shells? Have you noticed anything strange?”
“Other than the fact that we’re chained to a wall?”
“Carl hasn’t said anything in a really long time.… I actually forgot he was here.”
“I’m here,” Carl mumbled. “But I’m not okay.… I want to go home.”
“Charl, I wish I had words to comfort you… and myself… but I don’t.…”
“Guys, we can’t give up hope,” Jonathan insisted. “Once you give up hope, it’s over!”
“When did you become Mr. Optimism?” Shelley huffed. “Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re chained to a wall in a dungeon, in the Order of Merium, somewhere in Bulgaria!”
“I always thought it’d be a lawn mower,” Carl warbled as his eyes filled with tears.
“I don’t understand,” Jonathan responded.
“I always thought it’d all end with a lawn mower. That I’d be taken down by some overexcited gardener who didn’t see me.”
The sound of shoes knocking against old floorboards grew louder and louder until Harold once again appeared, a tray of food in hand.
“I’ve brought some pancakes in case you’re hungry,” Harold said quietly as he pushed the food under the bars.
“Did you bring syrup?” Carl asked.
“I’m afraid I forgot the syrup,” Harold offered faintly.
“Not to worry, Harry,” Shelley replied. “Personally, I don’t even like syrup. It’s so messy. And when you get right down to it, what is syrup? Tree blood… and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want tree blood on my pancakes.”
“Please stop saying tree blood,” Jonathan whispered.
“Harry, here’s what we want to know. Are you happy?”
“To be honest, I don’t really care if you’re happy,” Carl said in between bites of pancakes. “I just want to go home.”
“What do you mean by happy? I’m well fed and I’m alive. Isn’t that enough?” Harold responded.
Shelley shook her head. “That is so sad, it’s almost tragic!”
“Don’t you want to do more than just cook and clean?” Jonathan asked. “Don’t you want to live life? To see the world outside?”
Harold nodded. “A little… but they won’t let me.…”
“What if we could help you? What if we took you with us?” Jonathan pressed on.
“Him?” Carl interjected. “Why would we take him with us?”
“Charl, if you don’t stop talking, we’re going to leave you here!”
“The h is silent, remember?”
“The h is silent, remember?” Shelley mimicked Carl.
“Guys, you’re not exactly giving Harold the best impression. We’re trying to get him to come with us, so we probably shouldn’t lead him to believe we’re mentally unstable lunatics who argue with each other.”
Red and sweaty, Harold stumbled to find his words, “Um… um… I guess… I mean, I know it’s wrong what they do here… but I never thought I would be able to leave, and if I did, who would believe me? Unless of course, I was able to bring the black book.”
“Is that like a little black book? Filled with ex-boyfriends and -girlfriends?”
“Shells?” Jonathan interrupted.
“Probably not, but I thought I might as well ask.”
“It’s the story of everything we’ve done, sort of like a diary, starting with the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln.”
Shelley’s eyes bulged. “You guys are responsible for Lincoln’s death?!”
Harold nodded.
“Will you help us escape?” Jonathan asked Harold. “We promise to take you with us.”
“Yes. But we’ll need to move fast. The others will wake soon.”
“Then maybe we should wait and try to escape tomorrow when we have more time?” Jonathan asked.
“Tomorrow? You don’t have tomorrow,” Harold replied.
“What does that mean?” Carl asked.
“By tomorrow they will have made you disappear… forever.”
NOVEMBER 2, 5:39 P.M. HALLWAY. ORDER OF MERIUM
“Harold! Where are you going? The sun’s setting. We need to get to the garden and pull the lever!” Jonathan said as the frizzy-haired boy started up the spiral staircase.
“The black book. I’m not leaving here without it! The world must know the truth, not just about what we did to your parents, but what we did in the past! We’ve been an invisible hand, changing the course of history.”
“Get the book, just hurry!” Shelley said.
“Hurry? The book weighs twenty-eight pounds!”
“What? Don’t you guys have an electronic version? Something we could e-mail ourselves?” Shelley asked.
“No.”
“We need the book,” Jonathan said. “It’s the only surefire way to prove what’s happened behind these walls.”
“Agreed,” Shelley said, turning toward Harold. “We’ll meet you by the lever.”
NOVEMBER 2, 5:48 P.M. GARDEN. ORDER OF MERIUM
Carl, Jonathan, and Shelley stood anxiously next to the lever, waiting for Harold to arrive. Through the mesh dome, locking them in, they could see swathes of orange, yellow, and red filling the sky as the sun set. And though normally such a sight might relax them, even please them, tonight it terrified them. For once the sun had gone from the sky, the Order would awake and their fates would be sealed.
“Where is he? What’s taking so long?” Shelley asked.
“I don’t know.…” Jonathan mumbled, his heart pounding with adrenaline.
Though physically and mentally depleted, Jonathan was now buzzing from fear and anticipation. What would happen? Could they make it out in time? Would the plan work?
“Shells… if anything happens… and I don’t make it out…”
“Johno! Do not talk like that! We’ve come this far, we’re going to pull this off… and even if we don’t, I’d rather go down hoping, believing that somehow, someway things will be okay… so don’t take that away from me… please.”
Jonathan nodded, unable to put into words what he wanted to say. It was something along the lines of Thank you, you’re my best friend, and there’s no one I’d rather “disap
pear” with than you.
“He’s here! Harold’s here!” Shelley squealed as she spotted the sweat-drenched boy, lugging what looked like a medium-sized black box but was actually a leather-bound book containing the crimes of the Order of Merium.
“Now, I know everyone gets pretty peeved when I use the p-word, but how exactly are we planning on getting over the wall?” Carl asked.
“Charl! You were with us when we came up with the plan!” Shelley snapped.
“Yeah, but I don’t listen that much when you guys talk.… Your ideas kind of scare me.”
“We must pull the lever! The sun is almost gone!” Harold whimpered. “And once it’s gone…”
“Do it,” Jonathan instructed Harold.
And so Harold placed his callused white hand on the lever and pulled. Immediately the sound of metal grating filled the air. It was loud, too loud to ignore. Harold then took the large black book and swung with all his might against the lever.
“What are you doing?” Jonathan asked, his upper lip covered in perspiration.
“We must disable the lever if we’re to stand a chance of getting out of here,” Harold replied as he once again banged the heavy black book against the bar, leaving it dangling from the wall.
Shelley turned to Carl. “Help Harold get the book over to the wall. We’ll meet you there as soon as we can.”
Running through the garden, toward the shed where they had interrogated Glenda, Jonathan felt his chest tighten. The sound of the metal dome retracting was so loud. And the sun, the sun was almost gone. The Order was awake. He could feel it in his bones.
NOVEMBER 2, 6:01 P.M. GARDEN SHED. ORDER OF MERIUM
Shelley pushed the wheelbarrow as Jonathan loaded old crates, planting pots, and rope onto it.
“I’m worried.…” Shelley muttered. “I don’t want to disappear.… I feel like I’ve only just arrived in this world.”
Jonathan longed to hug Shelley and tell her that he too thought they were doomed. But he remembered what she had said: No matter what happened, she didn’t want to lose hope.