The Journal of Curious Letters (The 13th Reality #1) (19 page)

“Just a minute.” His dad looked at their host. “Mr. Johnson, you’ve done a great service for us and we’d like to return the favor. Is there, uh, anything we can do to help you, uh, get your nerve back and go back to work?”

Norbert didn’t reply for a long time. Then, “I don’t know. It’s awfully kind of you to offer. I guess I’m just too scared that woman is gonna come back for me and string me up like a fresh catch of salmon.”

“Well, let me tell you what I think,” Dad said, holding up a finger. “I agree with you one hundred percent. I think this Mistress Jane person must be evil, because we wholeheartedly believe what M.G.—Master George—is doing must be a noble cause because he wants my son’s help. And we’ve committed to that cause heart and soul, as you can tell.”

“I reckon I can see that. What’s your point?”

“Well, if this . . . yellow-dressed, bald, nasty woman made you quit your job, shun society, and hole up in a house all by yourself, then I think she’s won a mighty victory over the world. She’s beaten the great Norbert Johnson once and for all, and will move on to her next prey.”

Tick liked seeing his dad try and help this poor man and decided to do his part. “Yeah, Norbert, you’re doing exactly what she wanted you to do—give up and be miserable. Go back to work, show her you’re the boss of your own life.”

Norbert looked back and forth between Tick and his dad, his face a mask of uncertainty. “And if she does come back? What then?”

“Then by golly,” Dad said, “stand up to her. Show her who’s in charge.”

“And call us,” Tick chimed in. “By then, maybe we’ll have figured everything out and know how to help you.”

Norbert scratched his head. “Well, I don’t know. I’m
a-gonna have to think about this.”

Dad smiled. “Listen, we’ll exchange phone numbers and keep in touch, okay? How’s that sound?”

Norbert didn’t answer for a very long time, and Tick wondered if something was wrong. But then he saw moisture rimming on the bottom of the man’s eyes and realized the guy was all choked up.

Finally, their new friend spoke. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you folks care enough to give me your phone number. I just wished you a-lived up here in Alaska. I could use a friend.”

“Well, hey,” Dad said. “In this world, with the Internet and all that, we can keep in touch just fine.”

And with that, their new friendship was sealed and Tick felt mighty proud of himself.

~

Frazier watched as Tick and his dad stepped out of the house, then shook hands and embraced their new little buddy. They said a few more sappy words, just like they had inside, and headed for their vehicle.

What is this, a soap opera? I might need a tissue for my weepy eyes.

He snickered at his own joke, then put the car into drive, ready to follow, the twilight of midday having long faded into the full darkness of late afternoon.

Frazier pulled out his half of the special device, fingered the big button in the middle of its shiny gray surface.

In just a few minutes,
he thought.
Just a few minutes and the show begins.

~

Norbert stared out his frosty window, watching the boy Tick and his father climb into their rental car, warm it up, then begin their long trek back to Anchorage. Norbert hadn’t felt this good in weeks, like he was doing something
right,
finally taking a stand against the yellow witch who haunted his dreams. He couldn’t explain it—the boy and his dad seemed to pulse with some invisible force, strong and magnetic. Norbert felt like a new person, as if powerful batteries had replaced his old junky ones, revved him up to face the world like he’d never done before.

The new year could bring a new life. He’d go back to work . . .

His thoughts petered out when he noticed another car pull out into the road just moments after Edgar had driven past it. The black Honda had been parked on the sidewalk, idling, and wasn’t in front of a house, just a blank lot of snow-covered weeds and brush. Something about that didn’t seem right. Not at all.

Then it hit Norbert.

The person in the black car was
following
his new friends. That couldn’t be a good thing.
No sir, that couldn’t be good one bit.

The new Norbert acted before the old Norbert could talk himself out of it. He threw on some warm clothes, a wool cap, and his faded, weather-beaten shoes. He frantically searched for his keys, forgetting where he’d put them since his last venture to town. They weren’t on his dresser, weren’t on his kitchen counter—he couldn’t find them anywhere. After five minutes of hunting, he was just about to give up when he saw them on the floor under the table; he grabbed them and turned toward the garage.

The doorbell rang, freezing his blood solid.

Trying to stay brave, he ran up the stairs to his usual spying window and took a peek. Relieved, he saw it was just a kid girl with a man who looked an awful lot like Master George—dressed in a fancy suit, shiny shoes, the works. But this guy stood a lot taller and had plenty of hair, shiny blond hair slicked back against his skull.

Must be another one of those smart kids looking for their letter.

He bolted back down the stairs, grabbed another copy of Mothball’s golden envelopes (could that
really
be her name?) and tore open the door. He held out the letter and was just about to drop it into the girl’s hand and close the door when he caught a glimpse of his visitor’s car parked in the driveway. It was much nicer and . . . faster than his. An idea popped in his head.

“You folks lookin’ for a clue from M.G.?” he asked.

The befuddled (Norbert’s new favorite word) strangers nodded in unison.

“Someone’s in a whole lot of trouble—friends of Mothball,” he said, then shook the envelope in front of them. “This is the sixth clue. If you want it, you’ve gotta help me save them.”

~

Driving slowly down Main Street, with a full tank of gas in the car, Edgar settled his bones for the long drive back to Aunt Mabel’s. He looked over at Tick, who was just pulling the sixth clue from its envelope.

“Read it, boy!” he shouted cheerfully. “I can hardly wait. What a trip, huh? What a trip!” He felt so good they’d accomplished something—not just getting the next clue, but perhaps helping poor Norbert get his life back together. Though he’d dared not admit it, Edgar had been scared to death their trip to Alaska would prove a waste, thereby nullifying his value to Tick, who’d had the courage to tell him about everything.

Tick put the white piece of cardstock down in his lap. “Nah, let’s just wait ’til we get back to Washington. What’s the rush?” Tick let out a fake yawn and stretched.

“Professor, these windows
do
roll down, and I
am
strong enough to throw you out of one.”

“Okay, okay, if you insist.” Tick read the words out loud, holding the paper up so Edgar could glance at it and follow along as he drove.

Recite the magic words at exactly seventeen minutes past the quarter hour following the six-hour mark before midnight plus one hundred and sixty-six minutes minus seven quarter-hours plus a minute times seven, rounded to the nearest half-hour plus three. Neither a second before nor three seconds after.

(Yes, I’m fully aware it will take you a second or two to say the magic words, but I’m talking about the precise time you begin to say it. Quit being so snooty.)

“Oh, boy,” Edgar said. “Can’t say my head’s in the mood to figure that one out. Glad it’s your problem.”

Tick laid the clue down onto his lap, already scrutinizing its every word. “I’ll have it figured out by the time we stop for you to use the bathroom and buy more Doritos.” He opened up his journal and started jotting down thoughts and calculations from the clue.

“Very funny,” Edgar replied, elbowing his son. “You know, I was so worried about that ‘death’ e-mail you got, but now I’m feeling pretty fat and happy.”

“Better than skinny and sad, I guess,” Tick said.

Edgar laughed.
What a great kid I have,
he thought.
What a great kid.

~

Frazier waited until he and his prey were well out of town, cruising down the long and straight two-lane highway that headed back to Anchorage. He hated how short the days were this far north. It wouldn’t be as fun to watch the coming mayhem in the darkness. He looked in his rearview mirror and saw some lights in the distance, but they seemed too far back for him to be worried. Once he engaged the device, it wouldn’t take long to have his fun and be done with it.

He gripped the Chu controller in his palm, put the tip of his thumb on the button.

Then he pushed it.

~

Tick stared ahead at the long blank road, lost in thought about the sixth clue. The headlights revealed nothing but cracked asphalt and dirty piles of plowed ice, swallowed up in darkness on both sides.
There must not be a moon out,
he thought. Even the snow seemed black tonight.

“Uh-oh,” his dad said in a worried whisper.

Tick looked over and saw the tight cowl of panic on his dad’s face. He felt something shudder in his chest. “What?”

His dad had both hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel, trying to squeeze the inner lining out of it. “The wheel’s frozen!” His legs moved up and down, alternately pumping the gas and brakes as the frightening, plastic-springy sound of the pedal filled the car.

“Dad, what’s wrong?”

His dad kept yanking on the wheel, pushing on the brakes. “It’s not responding—it’s not doing anything. I can’t
do
anything!”

“What do you—”

“Son, the car’s out of control—it won’t let me . . .” His voice faded as he tried everything again, his look of disbelief overcoming the panic. “What in the . . .”

Tick could only watch, bile building in his throat and stomach. Something was horribly wrong, and it had to have something to do with their new enemies. “You can’t get it to stop?”

Dad looked over at him, exasperated. “Son, I can’t do
anything!
”

In unison, they looked forward. The road remained straight for as far as they could see, but it ended in blackness. Anything could be hiding in the darkness, waiting for an out-of-control car to smash into it.

“The steering wheel won’t move?” Tick asked, knowing the answer anyway.

His dad unsnapped his seatbelt, squirming in his chair to turn around.

“What are you doing?” Tick yelled.

Dad reached over and unbuckled Tick’s belt as well. “Someone’s got to us, kid. We’ve gotta get out of here.”

~

From the backseat, Norbert stared at the two cars in front of him as they gained ground, knowing deep inside that something terrible was happening. He sensed frantic movement in Tick’s car—dark shadows bobbing and jerking around—and saw the calm demeanor of the person sitting in the one following them, barely revealed by the headlights of the car in which Norbert sat. They were almost on the stranger.

“It’s now or never,” Norbert said, then tapped the shoulder of the man driving. “Put the pedal to the metal, pal.”

“Do whatever he says,” the girl said to the driver like she was his mother.

~

Frazier laughed as he saw the man and the boy squirming inside their car, desperate for a way out of this little predicament. He looked down at his controller, trying to find the dial that would make the car ahead go even faster. He finally found it and turned it up just a little, loving every minute of this game.

When he finally glanced back up to the road, he yelped as a car zoomed past him on the left, then swerved to the right to cut him off. Overreacting, Frazier slammed on his brakes and twisted the steering wheel, shooting off the road with a horrible squeal of brakes before slamming into a massive snowbank.

His airbag exploded open, scorching his forearms and catapulting the Chu device into the backseat.

~

Tick felt like a sailor going down with a submarine. The front doors wouldn’t open; some kind of permanent locking mechanism kept them sealed.

“What could possibly be doing this?” Dad yelled, struggling to lean his huge girth over the back of the seat to check the rear doors. From the click of the handle being yanked and released, Tick knew they were locked, too. His dad groaned as he dropped back into the driver’s seat.

The car had inexplicably sped up just a few moments earlier, rocketing them faster and faster toward the unknown. The car remained on a straight path for now—the steep piles of snow on the roadside nudging the wheels back onto the road if they began to stray—but it couldn’t last much longer. Tick knew if they hit a turn, they’d be in a whole heap of trouble.

Tick felt a block of ice in the pit of his stomach; they probably had only a minute or two before they’d crash. “We need to break a window!” he yelled.