Nightmare Academy (9 page)
They were trying to think instead of panicking.
Then they heard Margaret's voice telling Elijah, “Jerry, you can take room 305.”
They were out of the van in an instant, dashing across the street, up the block, and down the narrow alley The Dartmoor Hotel had a back stairway They went up the stairs as quickly as quiet would allow, then stole down the third-floor hallway. It was messy. Trash lay on the old carpet, and graffiti marred the walls.
They found the door to room 305. Inside, a radio was playing softly.
Sarah knocked on the door. “Uh . . . Jerry?”
A woman's voice answered from inside, “Who is it?”
Then a man's gruff voice rumbled, “Whatever you're selling, we don't want any!”
Back in the front seat of the van, Nate and Sarah were speechless for an unnatural length of time.
“It's like I'm having a nightmare,” said Sarah, “and I can't wake up.”
“Like we're going crazy” said Nate, staring at the building across the street.
Then Sarah almost whispered, “ I don't know.'”
“What don't you know?”
“No, no, the
boy in the hospital.
He kept saying 'I don't know' as if . . .”
Nate caught her meaningâ". . . as if all knowledge and logic were gone.”
“As if he's been
here.
We're in another world, Nate. I know we followed the kids here last night. . . but now that isn't true anymore. It's as if someone's trying to erase my memory, maybe even my sanity.”
They both fell silent. They were thinking.
Nate finally commented, “Whoever they are, they're very good at what they do.”
Sarah's voice tightened with fear. “And they have our kids.”
Nate punched in a number on the van's cell phone, switching it to speakerphone so they could both converse.
Mr. Morgan answered on the second ring. “Nate, I was going to call youâ”
“Morgan, I want you to tell us we're not going crazy.”
There was silence, and then a sigh at the other end. “What's happened?”
“Reality is shifting before our very eyes!” Sarah told him.
Nate quickly recapped what had happened, then said, “So we've tracked the kids to a certain point, and . . . “
“And . . . ?”
“The kids aren't thereâbut that point isn't there anymore, either. It's gone, like it never existed.” Nate raised his voice, his anger apparent. “Morgan, who in the world are we dealing with?”
There was another significant pause before Morgan replied, “I have one clue for you: Alvin Rogers, the boy in the hospital, is dead. The death certificate will undoubtedly say it was a massive heart attack. But I'm quite sure he was murdered.”
“It's like I'm having a nightmare,"
said Sarah, “and 1 can't wake up.”
E
LIJAH BEGAN TO WAKE UP, but very slowly. He'd already spent several rough days and nights hanging out on the streets of Seattle without much sleep, and now he was paying for it. His body felt like lead, and he could hardly open his eyes.
He became aware of his clothes, the same clothes he'd been wearing for days. Now he'd worn them all night, and if he didn't get a shower and something fresh to wear, he was going to be one very smelly “runaway.” Then he became aware of something else: kids' voices laughing, cheering, hollering, as if a rollicking game was going on. Yes, he could hear the distinctive sound of a volleyball being batted about.
Volleyball in the middle of the city?
He opened his eyes. Sunshine was pouring in through the window, warm and dazzling. It made him squint.
He raised his head and looked around. He didn't remember this room very well, but, of course, he was so sleepy last night he wasn't paying much attention. It wasn't large, just a typical hotel room. It looked cleaner than he remembered. The walls and ceiling were painted white, and an attractive blue carpet was on the floor. His bed was set against one wall, and against another wall were a small dresser and a desk.
Volleyball in the middle of the city?
He sat up on the bed, pausing a moment to let some dizziness pass. He didn't remember the dresser or the desk from last night. On the other hand, he did remember brushing his teeth in a small bathroom that now appeared to be a closet.
With some effort, he rose to his feet and went to the window.
He froze where he stood, hardly breathing, nothing moving but his eyes as he scanned left and right, taking in scenery he wasn't ready to believe.
He was looking out on what appeared to be a summer camp. Immediately outside the window was a wide-open field of green grassâa baseball diamond, a soccer and football field, and a volleyball court where a good-sized bunch of kids were having a rollicking game, volleying and spiking the ball over the net. The field was bordered on all four sides by campus structures that reminded him of a YMCA camp, most likely a dining hall, recreation building, maybe some classrooms, and dormitories like the one he was standing in right now. Beyond all of it were steep, forested hills, possibly mountainsâfrom this window he couldn't see their tops.
There'd been a change during the night.
Elijah immediately checked himself over, patting his pockets. Everything was still there: a little spare change, a handkerchief, half a stick of gum, and especially the small radio transmitter he was wearing under his shirt. A mirror hung on the wall just opposite the closet. He studied his reflection, but apart from looking like a street bum who'd slept in his clothes all night, he found nothing of concern. As far as he could tell, his body and everything on it had not been disturbed, simply moved.
He searched his memory and found it disappointingly blank. He remembered he and Elisha did agree to give the Knight-Moore Academy a try, but he hadn't the slightest memory of how they got from that moment and that place to this one.
They?
He was immediately concerned for Elisha.
Knock knock knock!
A male voice called from outside the door, “Hello? Jerry? You awake?”
Okay,
Elijah told himself,
I'm still Jerry.
"Uh, who is it?”
“Clyde Stern, the dorm superintendent. Let's go; you've got a meeting with the dean in five minutes.”
Elijah opened the door. The man standing outside was well-built, in his thirties, with brown, curly hair and a smile that looked a little grim. He was dressed a bit formal, in burgundy blazer, white shirt, black slacks, and black tie. Elijah felt like a slob just being in his presence. The man made a face as if he were
looking
at a slob. “Where's your uniform?”
“I, I don't know about any uniform.”
He was immediately concerned
for Elisha.
