“That was great, wasn’t it?” said Will, breathing deeply. “I’ve got an awesome buzz going right now.”
Now Todd just looked confused.
“I’m sorry, what was your name again? Dick?”
Hodak’s eyes went haywire. Losing it in every possible direction. “You’re dead,” said Todd. “You are dead!”
“It’s not Dick? I’m sorry, I’m really terrible with names.”
His teammates had to jump on Todd to hold him back. He flailed around, shouting threats until that piercing whistle sounded again. Everyone stopped. Coach Jericho stepped around the tree and narrowed his eyes at the scene.
“Cool down,” he said to his team. “Inside.”
The rest of the squad dragged Todd toward the field house. Will stayed behind. He felt his pulse dropping back to normal, his respiration evening out. He was already recovering! He waited for Jericho to speak first, but the coach just stared at him.
“How’d I do, Coach?” he asked.
Jericho looked at his stopwatch; he wanted Will to see that he’d clocked his time.
“Don’t be late tomorrow,” said Jericho. “We’ll talk then.”
Jericho pocketed the watch and strode off toward the field house.
Will turned back to Suicide Hill and saw a solitary figure stagger over the ridge, weave sideways, then fall to his knees and tip over. Will trotted to where Nick was lying, just off the track, moaning and wheezing melodramatically for air.
“Flopper,” said Will.
“Suck-up,” said Nick.
“I beat Ho-Dick.”
“Really? That’s great … and I’d offer my … heartiest congratulations … but I just remembered … that I still … really, really hate you.”
OceanofPDF.com
A MISUNDERSTANDING
Will waited for the rest of the team to leave before he showered and changed. He found a first-aid kit in his locker and cleaned the spike wounds on his left calf. A quiet pride filled him like he’d never felt before. He’d called his shot in front of their stone-faced coach, handled everything Todd Hodak and company had thrown at him on their home turf, and delivered.
It was four-thirty and nearly dark by the time the roommates made it back to the pod. Nick limped in moaning about his legs, then flopped onto a sofa and instantly fell asleep. No one else had come in yet. Will locked himself in his room, then fired up his tablet and checked his email. Nothing. He pulled the cell phone out from the mattress and took it into the bathroom.
Three calls in the message log from Nando. All in the last two hours. Two click-offs, one voice maiclass="underline" “Will, where you at, man? Breaking news. Gimme a shout.”
Will punched the RETURN CALL button. Nando picked up after the second ring.
“Hey, Nando, where are you?”
“On the road. Hectic day. Followed those sedans last night all the way to LA. The Caps checked into a hotel near UCLA, so I crashed at my cousin’s.”
“You haven’t even been home?”
“I tole you, man, I’m like a dog with a bone. Greased one of the valets so he tipped me when the Caps called for their rides. Seven a.m.: All three sedans drove to the Federal Building, holmes. On Wilshire in Westwood. Took the ramp into the private parking garage.”
The Federal Building … Will’s mind leaped to something Robbins had told him: They’re a nonprofit company that receives government funding.
“Check the lobby directory,” said Will. “See if there’s an office for a company called the National Scholastic Evaluation Agency.”
Nando paused, writing it down. “Getting right back to you on that, boss.”
Nando ended the call. Will punched up the number for the air charter company at the Oxnard Airport and hit REDIAL. The same young woman quickly answered.
“This is Deputy Sheriff Johnson,” said Will. “We spoke yesterday about the Bombardier Challenger your company chartered to Mr. Jordan West?”
“Yes, sir, I remember.”
“They were scheduled to fly into Phoenix. Have they returned yet?”
She hesitated slightly. “No, sir.”
“Can you confirm for me that they did, in fact, land in Phoenix?”
“Yes. As scheduled, yesterday evening.”
And with any luck they spent the rest of the night running around Phoenix looking for me at bus stations and youth centers.
“Have you heard anything from them since then?”
“No. The plane took off from Phoenix about two hours ago, but we don’t know where they’re headed.”
“So they’re not on their way back to Oxnard?” asked Will.
“No, sir. We don’t know where they are.”
“Well, didn’t your pilot file a flight plan?” he snapped.
“We haven’t been contacted by the pilot, sir.”
“What about Phoenix air control—shouldn’t they have a destination?”
“We’re trying to obtain that information,” she said.
The woman put her hand over the mouthpiece and spoke to someone, then came back to ask, “What do you need to speak to Mr. West about?”
Will tried to sound calm and in control. “That’s confidential.”
She paused again. “Would you hold a moment?”
A male voice Will hadn’t heard before came on, authoritative, no-nonsense. “This is Inspector Nelson with the Federal Aviation Administration,” the man said. “Who am I speaking to?”
Will ended the call abruptly.
Federal Aviation Administration? What the hell? What got the FAA into this? Wait: These days if you rent a private jet and don’t bring it back, wouldn’t that automatically attract their interest? Not to mention Homeland Security.
He didn’t know how he felt about that, but the whole last few hours weighed on him heavily as he walked back into the bedroom.
Dave was sitting at his desk holding the glass cube, looking at the black “dice” swimming lazily inside, suspended in a weightless vacuum.
“Cheers, mate,” said Dave with a grin. “You look surprised to see me.”
“I’m funny that way; it startles me when you keep breaking the laws of physical science.”
“Wanted to make sure you’d recovered from our expedition—”
“Why didn’t you warn me that thing would be down there?”
“Didn’t know myself. I just wanted you to see the Weasel Hole.” Dave held up the cube. Strange symbols and glyphs appeared inside it, followed by a projected image of the monster they’d just seen. “That was a lamia, by the way. Part female, part snake, part spider, and smokin’ ponies, can those things make a mess.”
“Is it still after me?” said Will, his eyes wide.
“Naw, mate, I turned its lights out after you shook a leg, no worries.”
“But did the Caps send it after me, specifically, like the other ones?”
“I don’t think so,” said Dave. “Just bad timing is all, and I blame myself for that.”
Will felt a thump in his chest. “Listen, what I’m asking is, does this mean the Caps know I’m here at the school?”
“Put it this way, the lamia didn’t have time to tell anybody. Depends on who else saw you. Did you get a good look at who summoned it?”
“No, but I have a few ideas,” said Will, pacing. “But even if they weren’t targeting me, I’m assuming this means there’s some connection between the Black Caps and whoever they were. Am I right?”
“So it seems,” said Dave gravely.
“So we have to find out, for certain, who was down there.” Will sat on the bed, took out the dark glasses, and twirled them around, thinking it through. “This Weasel Hole, that portal or window, that’s how these things come across from the Never-Was.”
“Right,” said Dave. “Here’s how it works.”
He held up the cube: The dice stopped moving and unleashed a powerful burst of light. Out of its brightness, a striking visual projected onto the wall, of cows grazing in a sunny meadow. In a corner, a milky window like the one Will had seen in the locker room burned in, like someone cutting a hole through a wall. Once the circle was completed, shapes pushed at it from the other side until the skin burst open, unleashing a cascade of invisible force that bent the air.