“Pick?” all three kids asked at once.
“I’ll take that one,” Mothball said. “A Pick’s what Master George calls a ruddy big decision. Your Chi’karda level spikes like a rocket shootin’ off to space, it does. Showed up on his big monitor and let him know when yer were truly committed to the job he offered, when you really promised yourself there was no turning back. Smart old chap, don’t you think?”
“Master George watched his big screen every day,” Rutger said, “so he’d know when you made your Pick. Word is he just about suffocated his cat hugging the poor thing when you three made your Pick at almost the same time. That was uncanny.”
Tick thought of that night he knelt in front of the fireplace and the decision he’d made to not burn the letter in his hand. He remembered the sensation of warmth that had spread throughout his whole body. That was my Pick, he realized. He’d felt that same sensation again later, when he screamed out in the dark woods and managed to somehow change reality. Is that what using the Chi’karda feels like? Tick shivered. It was a lot to think about.
“What are we in, anyway?” Paul asked, looking above and around him. “Is this a boat or what?”
“No, it’s a building, firmly rooted in the ocean floor far below us,” Rutger said. “Master George used a little trick he learned from the Eighth Reality, where it’s mostly ocean. They developed some amazing cabling technology that allows them to build entire cities on the ocean. We’re perfectly safe and stable. You can barely feel the waves unless we have a real doozy of a storm.”
Mothball yawned, a booming roar that made Tick jump. “Master George will have our hides, he will, if he finds out we kept you up so late. Come on, now, we need—”
“Wait,” Tick interrupted her. “Just one more question, okay?”
“Be quick about it. Me bones hurt I’m so tired.”
“What’s the deal with cemeteries? Rutger said something once about the difference between life and death . . . I can’t remember.”
“It was another famous Master George quote,” Rutger replied. “‘Nothing in this world better reflects the difference between life and death than the power of choice.’ Chi’karda levels are very high in cemeteries. Master George says it has to do with the lingering effects of the life-changing choices those people made. One way or another, their choices led them to their fates, whether good or bad.”
“And so we needed to go there because . . .” Tick started but stopped, worried his answer would be wrong.
“So we could wink easier,” Sofia said. “The stronger the levels of Chi’karda, the easier it is to travel between Realities.”
“Exactly,” Rutger agreed. “Not only can you travel between the barriers, you can travel between different locations of heavy Chi’karda spots within the same Reality. That’s how Master George could wink you from your towns to this place. He simply honed in on your nanolocator signals and winked you away!”
“My head hurts,” Paul groaned, falling onto his back as he rubbed his forehead.
“That’s because you Americans aren’t smart enough to get it,” Sofia said. “I’ll be happy to tutor you on everything tomorrow.”
“Methinks I’ve had enough for one day,” Mothball said. “Good night, all.”
She and Rutger left the room, flicking off the light as they went.
A few more words were said after they’d left, but sheer exhaustion soon pulled the three of them into a deep sleep.
~
Something jolted Frazier out of his dreamless slumber.
He swatted at the dark air around him, scrambling into a sitting position. What had it been? Was he—
He heard a loud thump against the wall by his cot. Then another, a clang of metal against metal that echoed throughout the small cell. Then another, this time louder.
What was that?
He scurried over to the light switch and flipped it on, squinting in the brightness. To his shock, a small dent, about three inches wide, bent the wall inward just above his bed. The bolts connecting the wall to the surrounding metal had loosened slightly, rattling as another big thump sounded. The wall bent even farther.
One final boom sounded through the room, and the entire piece of metal fell onto his bed, its bolts cracking like whips as they broke in half. Frazier stared past the hole in the wall, seeing the endless ocean in front of him, the first traces of dawn casting a purple glow over the deep waters. Then, inexplicably, a face appeared from below—someone he’d never seen before. It was a man with scraggly black hair and an unshaven face.
“Come on, Mister Gunn, we don’t have much time!”
“What . . . who . . . what . . .” Frazier couldn’t find any words after such a long time in confinement.
“Mistress Jane sent us to rescue you,” the man yelled.
“Rescue me?” Frazier could hardly believe it.
“Yes!” the man replied. “And then we’re going to destroy this place once and for all.”
Chapter
44
~
Escalation of Plans
Tick woke to the awful smell of fish breath and an annoying scratchy feeling on his right cheek. From somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard a loud boom like an underground explosion. He opened his eyes to see two yellow orbs staring at him. It was a cat, pawing at his face to . . . wake him?
Tick sat up, accidentally knocking the cat to the floor. “Oh, sorry.” The sleek feline hissed in annoyance, then padded over to Paul’s cot to wake him as well.
That’s one smart cat, Tick thought.
Sofia was already awake, rubbing her eyes and stretching. Tick looked at his watch to see only a few hours had passed since they went to bed. The thought made him twice as tired; all he wanted to do was go back to sleep.
But then the whole world seemed to go crazy at once.
Another boom, this time much louder, shook the building as it echoed off the walls. The door to the room flew open and banged against the wall, rebounding back and knocking Master George to the floor, who was wearing a bright red nightshirt even more ridiculous than the one Tick wore. He grunted and scrambled back to his feet.
“Good job, Muffintops, jolly good job!” Master George picked up his cat and petted its back. “You three, we must hurry! Our plans have been . . . escalated.”
The others had slept in their clothes, but Tick still wore his horrible pajamas. As Paul and Sofia moved to follow Master George, Tick quickly went into the bathroom where he’d hung his clothes to finish drying. They were still damp, but he changed into them as fast as he could. He’d just pulled on his second shoe when someone pounded on the door.
“Mister Higginbottom!” came the muffled voice of Master George. “What part of ‘we must hurry’ did you not understand?”
“Sorry!” Tick called as he wrapped his scarf around his neck. He opened the door and followed the old man, who was already across the room. Another boom sounded, and Tick felt like he was in a bunker, taking heavy artillery from the enemy. He tried to fight the panic that surged up his chest and into his throat.
They gathered back in the main room with the fireplace. Sato sat in the exact same spot where they’d left him only a few hours before, though his puffy eyes showed he’d just woken up as well. Rutger and Mothball were there too; the tall woman had an enormous backpack perched on her shoulders.
Master George stood in front of the now-cold fireplace, holding the shiny Barrier Wand in both hands, his cat curled on the ground at his feet. “My friends, we are officially under siege.”
“What’re you talking about?” Sofia asked as another boom sounded in the building. “Is someone bombing us?”
“I’d hardly call them bombs, my good lady, but we haven’t any more time to talk about it. Jane’s power over the mutated Chi’karda must be growing if she has enough daring to attack us here. I must send you off on your mission immediately.” He started adjusting the seven dials and switches of the Barrier Wand, his tongue pressed bet
ween his lips.
“Whoa, dude,” Paul said. “I don’t like the sound of this.”
“We don’t have time to argue,” Rutger said from where he leaned against the door. “Master George and I will stay here and protect the Command Center as best we can; we have a few tricks up our sleeve that Mistress Jane doesn’t know about. You three are going with Mothball to the Thirteenth Reality.”
“The Thirteenth—” Tick started, his stomach falling into a pit of cold ice.
“Don’t waste another moment of my time with complaints or questions!” Master George finished his flipping and turning of the Wand’s controls and looked at the four recruits. “This attack on my home shows you the urgency of your mission. Follow Mothball’s orders. She has weapons called Sound Slicers if you run into trouble. Please do me a favor and don’t point them at each other. I’d rather you not return to me with your brains turned into runny oatmeal.”
Sound Slicers? Tick wondered. He really wanted to voice a question, but the man in charge barely paused to breathe.
Master George held up a warning finger. “It is imperative you succeed in bringing back the Barrier Wand of Mistress Jane. We must seal her in the Thirteenth Reality forever. Or at least until we can properly prepare to fight against her evil magic hordes. If everything goes as planned, it should be quite, er, easy.”
Tick didn’t like the hesitancy in Master George’s voice. He already felt like a rookie paratrooper about to be pushed out of the plane for the first time over a major battlefield, under heavy fire.
“Atticus, you enjoy chess, yes?” Master George said in a tight voice.
Tick couldn’t think of a question that seemed more out of place. “Yeah.”
“Good. Come here.”
Tick moved closer to Master George, who put the Barrier Wand directly in front of his face. “It’s been my experience that chess lovers are quite good at memorization. Am I correct?”
“Uh . . .”
“Excellent! Now look at each of the controls on the Barrier Wand and memorize their position. Exactly, now—there’s no room for error, none at all.”
“But—”
“Quickly!”
Tick swallowed the lump in his throat and did as he was told, scanning his eyes up and down the length of the golden Wand.
“Hurry, we only have a minute at most!” Master George said.
Pushing his panic away, Tick tried to freeze-frame the image of each dial, switch, and knob in his mind, storing it, burning it in his memory. He was still focusing on the bottom dial when Master George took it away and began switching everything again.
Master George spoke as he worked. “Mothball isn’t . . . agreeable with Barrier Wands, so it’ll be up to you, Atticus, to bring all of you back in case something happens to me.”
Tick felt like someone had just poured acid down his throat.
“Mark your watches,” Master George continued. “If I don’t wink you back here in thirty hours—precisely thirty hours—that means that Rutger and I are in serious trouble. If that happens, Atticus, you will have to use Mistress Jane’s Barrier Wand—which looks exactly like this one—in order to escape the Thirteenth Reality. Adjust it as I showed you, then hit this button on the top.” He pointed at a perfect circle cut into the top of the cylinder. “It will wink you to one of our satellite locations where you will be safe from harm. Understand?”
Tick nodded, scratching his neck through his scarf, nervous and afraid like never before. Another explosion rocked the building, throwing everyone off balance; a brick fell from the mantle of the fireplace, a poof of dust billowing out. Master George almost dropped the Barrier Wand but caught it just in time.
Paul cleared his throat. “And how’re we supposed to steal a Barrier Wand from the most evil woman in history, as you put it?”
“We have a spy named Annika in place. All you have to do is meet her and she will help you retrieve it.”
“Is that all?” Sofia said.
“Listen to me,” Master George said, all semblance of his normal, cheery, quirky self gone. “You have all shown tremendous resolve and courage in making it to me, and I am proud as buttons to know you. But you must do this one last thing before officially becoming Realitants. Show me you can do this, and a life of adventure and intrigue awaits you, I promise. Do we have an understanding?”
The building rumbled again as Tick made eye contact with Sofia, then Paul. They looked as scared as he felt, which for some sick reason made him feel better.
“Let’s do it,” Paul said.
“Yeah,” Sofia agreed. “Psycho Jane’ll be sorry once I get my hands on her.”
They both looked at Tick, waiting for his answer. “You know I’m in,” he said.
“Splendid,” Master George said. “Sato?”
Everyone looked over at the disgruntled boy on the couch. He stood up, trying to bring the scowl back to his face but failing; he was just as scared as everyone else. “I’m only going because I don’t trust Master George and I want to make sure you three don’t mess up.” He walked over and joined the small group standing around the Barrier Wand.
“Sato,” Master George said, in an unusually kind voice for someone who had just been insulted. “I know more about you than you understand, and I feel no anger. When you succeed in this mission, I hope to gain your trust, and may I daresay, to become your friend.”
Sato said nothing in reply, looking at the floor.
A horrible sound of crunching metal came from the hallway where Tick had first entered the building, followed by another rocking explosion.
“Best be gettin’ a move on, don’t ya think?” Mothball said.
“Quite right you are, my dear friend!” Master George said, holding the Barrier Wand out in front of him, his arm rigid, so the golden rod stood upright in the middle of the group. “All of you, hands on the Wand! It’ll be much easier if you’re touching it!”
Mothball was first, wrapping her huge hand around the very top of the cylinder. One by one, the others followed her example, clasping the Wand in quick succession—Paul, Sofia, Tick. All eyes went to Sato, who turned and spat on the ground. Then, with all the enthusiasm of putting his hand into a cage full of rattlesnakes, he grabbed the lower edge of the Wand.
“I’m very sorry indeed we didn’t have more time to talk,” Master George said, his tone solemn. “I expected a few more hours at least, but we must move on, mustn’t we? Remember the plan, and remember your courage. May the Realities smile upon you, and may we see each other again very soon.”
Without waiting for a response, Master George pushed the golden button.
Chapter
45
~
The Thirteenth Reality
Mistress Jane sat on her throne, eyes closed, deep in thought as she waited for her next visitor. What a life mine has become. So many people hated and despised her, wished she were dead. But they simply did not understand. All of her cruelty and harsh rule had a purpose, and someday the Realities would know of her goodness.
All she wanted was to make life better.
What a poor existence the wretches of Reality Prime eked out from day to day. It was a marvel they continued on despite the drab bleakness of their lives—no power, no joy, no color. Jane would change all of that. The new and improved version of Chi’karda made every second a wonderful moment, and it must be shared. It must be spread. The Realitants had always talked about finding a utopian Reality someday, a paradise on Earth; Jane could make it happen.
She was so close to implementing her plan. One by one, she would fragment and destroy the branching Realities until only Prime and the Thirteenth remained. Then, with an army such as never before witnessed in all of history, she would take over Reality Prime, consuming it with the mutated Chi’karda. Only then could the universe be rebuilt, one world at a time, a better place for all.
In a million years, her name would still be remembered with love and worship.
She needed help,
of course. She’d sent a letter to a very important person, setting up a meeting on May thirteenth—a meeting that represented the final and most important part of her plan. Only one more week, she thought. If Reginald Chu agreed to her terms at that meeting, nothing could stop her. Nothing. Especially not the pathetic and laughable Master George and his dwindling Realitants. Just hours earlier, she’d finally initiated the attack on his headquarters, an act for which she’d shown much patience, having wanted to do it for years.
One more week until the meeting with Chu. The final piece of the puzzle.
Jane opened her eyes. It was time to speak with Gunn.
~
Frazier felt sweat seeping into his eyebrows from his forehead, as if the skin itself were melting.
He stood before the huge wooden door with its iron bindings and handle, barely able to breathe as he waited for the horrible thing to open. He had failed, miserably, and there was no telling how Mistress Jane might react. Sometimes she was very merciful to her failures—allowing them to die with a quick snap of her odd abilities in this place. At other times, she displayed much less kindness. Jane had immense amounts of control over the mutated Chi’karda that existed in the Thirteenth, and she loved to . . . experiment.
A muted thump sounded from the other side of the door, followed by the odd sound of something dissolving, like the scratchy rush of poured sand or the amplified roar of a million termites devouring a house. A hole appeared in the middle of the door, expanding outward like a ripple in a pond, devouring the wood and iron of the door as it grew until the entrance to Jane’s throne room was completely open.
Why can’t she just open the door, Frazier thought to himself. Always has to show off her twisted power.
Frazier steeled himself, promising himself he would remain dignified as he met his fate. He knew he had only one chance to redeem his folly and perhaps to save his life. Smoothing his filthy shirt, he stepped forward into the gaudy and ridiculous throne room of Mistress Jane.