Authors: Rob Reger
Now if we could just get out of the van.
About an hour later
Sandstorm is over. We are all walking around, overjoyed to be out of the van. Also, the sandstorm scoured all the beige off Emma’s building. Belgium, it’s AMAZING! Those old photos I saw were of a plain, reasonably attractive black building, nothing extraordinary at all. But now, what I’m seeing? It’s a different ANIMAL. I mean, it’s actually kind of LIKE an animal. It has scaly texture and ridges and a crazy sort of beak on the roof. Weird curvy pillars, sinister carved plants and animals and ghoulish faces, gargoyles frolicking on the roof and hanging off the corners. And when I say frolicking, I mean I can see them kind of just out the corner of my eye, darting around, and then dashing back to their places when I look. And all in slick, glistening, harder-than-drop-forged-American-steel black rock.
Weird, huh?
I wonder what made it change since the old photos?
At least I’m pretty sure I understand the beigeifying now. If I were Great-Aunt Emma, I’d be pretty anxious to keep this place hidden from certain eyes.
Um, I AM pretty anxious to keep this place hidden from certain eyes, and I don’t have any three-story beige dropcloths handy, either.
There is now nothing left standing in Blackrock except Emma’s building. Therefore, it’s pretty easy to see out to the edge of town, where Professor Ümlaut’s Prophylactery and Revue and
Uncle Attikol’s Deadly Dollhouse are still hanging around, in trailers that are very ready for new post-sandstorm paint jobs.
Showdown time is coming.
Day 29
Am sitting on the bench at the minipark. Have talked to Molly about that code word of hers. She says it was just something my mom said a lot, so when I found Molly in Blandindulle, she naturally said it to me. I guess I had set it up as a sort of failsafe, in case something went terribly wrong, so that my mom would be able to break the amnesia.
Anyway, I sent Molly down into the closet to try entering the code word in the bottom lock. Then left her and Raven at the El Dungeon, which is currently full of construction workers getting coffee and sandwiches before they ditch town. Word is, they are giving up. All their equipment has been wrecked on my crazy black building and in the sandstorm. Attikol doesn’t have the money to keep them here, or the manpower to threaten them all with kneecapping, so that’s that—looks like he is not going to be completing his challenge after all.
Not that he isn’t still a major threat to me. If I don’t get him thoroughly neutralized, he will eventually be back with more money and more construction crews with bigger equipment.
Have been sitting here on the bench pondering all this, plotting my next move, and staring at the ex-tree, which as of yesterday was
the only tree left in Blackrock, but after yesterday’s sandstorm is a lifeless, leafless, barkless, branchless trunk. Was feeling kind of bad that I had to go and destroy the very last tree in Blackrock, but the more I looked at it, the less it looked like an ex-tree at all, and the more it looked like a too-smooth, too-round, human-made, tree-simulating POLE. With a scar near the base, where someone apparently tried (and failed) to cut it down. Its “knothole,” about five feet up, is so clearly a button, I wonder how I ever mistook it for a knothole.
Thought back to Day 6, when I hit that button with a rock, and the letter in the bench flipped over, and my innocent young heart was filled with dreams of glorious secret contraptions all through the town. Man, why couldn’t the locks downstairs work that easily?
Oh wait now.
The light on the middle lock was yellow. Not red.
Maybe I’ve already done something to turn it yellow.
—OK, have given the button another hit with a rock, and maybe—
Hey, I see Molly running up, gotta go
Later-oh this is goooooood stuff!
OK: Molly told me something amazing: She dialed in her code word, and then the dials started turning on their own!!!!!
She and I ran down into the closet right away.
First thing I noticed was that the dials had indeed changed.
Second thing was that the light on the middle lock was green. And the lock was open. Sweet—Looks like the ex-tree button did the trick!
Third thing was that the bottom lock was still locked.
So. I sent Molly back upstairs and I’m at the door right now.
Having some kind of conversation.
With the ghost in the door.
First I dialed “HELLO GREAT-AUNT EMMA.”
And watched in creeped-out amazement as the dials turned on their own to say “WELCOME MY DEAR.”
| M | | MAY I COME IN |
| G | | IS YOUR FRIEND GONE |
| M | | YES |
| GAE: | | HOW DID SHE KNOW CODE |
| M | | FROM MY MOM |
| GAE: | | I HOPE YOU TRUST HER |
| M | | ME TOO |
| GAE: | | ARE YOU READY |
| M | | AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHHA |
| GAE: | | BE SERIOUS |
| M | | IM VERY SERIOUS |
| GAE: | | I KNOW |
And the door clicked open.
I think I was expecting to see Great-Aunt Emma. But the room is empty. Of ghosts, I mean. It’s full of shelves and shelves holding jars of blackrock. Jars that have dates on them. Dates that go back CENTURIES. And notebooks. Notebooks full of detailed information on centuries’ worth of experiments.
Experiments involving the black rock.
And behind the shelves, on all the walls, and even on the ceiling, tiny handwriting. I still have MUCH more to read, but here’s what I learned in the past half hour:
Pretty great stuff, huh? I may not know my real name, but I’m busting with family pride.
Also, I am now more worried than ever about Attikol seeing Emma’s building without its protective beigeifications.
Also, I have a crazy, possibly desperate idea how to get rid of Attikol once and for all.
Later
Molly had already made friends with all the construction workers at the El Dungeon and was getting antsy, so I took her upstairs with me to pay Schneider a visit at Crazy Vet Hilda’s. The two of them were drinking tea in her kitchen. And being crawled over by 13 or so former alley cats. And having a conversation. It’s beyond me how he can understand her. Clearly a case of hereditary mental oddness.
As soon as we came in she started on the nonsense.
| H | | Flu loathe book must bite cold lemming! |
| M | | Yes, it…must. |
| S | | She says you both look just like old Emma. Wow, Earwig, I didn’t know you had a twin. Is she named after an insect, too? |
| M | | That’s very witty, Schneider. Molly, meet Mayor Schneider, professional laugh riot. |
| H: | | Postmark brewery ghoul seems adverbial! |
| M | | Totally adverbial…Hey, Molly, why don’t you go upstairs with Hilda and take the tour?…So, listen, Schneider. I really need to ask you one last favor. You know how to play Calamity Poker? |
| S: | | Oh no, I could never afford to play even one game. |
| M | | Well that’s great, because…wait, what? |
| S: | | I’ve never played it. Anyway, it takes years to learn all the rules. |
| M | | No way, man, I learned it in a few days. S: What? Who taught you? I heard you have to go through some kind of blood ritual first, so you can be an honorary relative of Attikol’s. |
| M | | Ewwwwwwwwwww! |
| S: | | Sorry, that’s what I heard. I guess he takes that game really seriously. |
| M | | Well listen. How would you like to become an honorary member of MY family? |
| S: | | Sure. Wait, does it involve a blood ritual? |
| M | | No. Well, that WOULD be kind of cool actually. S: Didn’t I just hear you ewwing at blood rituals? |
| M | | Oh no. I was ewwing at becoming a relative of Attikol’s. |
| S: | | Oh, right. But how come your family is allowed to learn Calamity Poker? |
| M | | Well that’s a story for another time, isn’t it? Anyway, I |
| S: | | Sounds good. Now do you mind just explaining what is going on? |
| M | | You’re gonna be the Dealer at a very important game of Calamity Poker. Here [handing him |