Nick picked up a dumbbell and smashed it repeatedly and violently into the lock, which shattered into pieces.
“Works for me,” said Will as he flipped up the lid.
Inside was a strange assortment of old hats. Will lifted them out one at a time. A pirate hat adorned with a big flouncy feather, cavalier style. A floppy red beret. A conical dunce’s cap, inscribed with strange glyphs. A bishop’s miter. A bronze crown, set with large fake gems. A garland made of olive branches. Two tricornered American Revolution–era hats. An iron knight’s coif, made of real chain mail. A cowboy hat. A long feathered Indian headdress. And finally what looked like a steel welder’s mask, inset with a small thick window for the eyes. All substantial pieces, blocked and solidly constructed, none of them shoddy or cheap.
“Amazeballs,” said Nick, astonished. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“No,” said Will.
“The Village People are getting back together,” said Nick.
“Apparently at a Renaissance fair,” said Ajay.
“Hold on, there’s more,” said Will.
Will lifted the false shelf on which the hats had been resting, revealing an equally eclectic collection of heavy molded plastic masks, with thick elastic bands in the back. The kind you might have found on the shelves of an old-fashioned toy store. The masks were hand painted, designed and crafted with an attention to detail seldom seen anymore. A diverse group of faces, stark and more than a little unsettling: a clown, a devil, a fox, a horse, a tusked wild boar, a pigtailed girl, a grinning jack-o’-lantern, a snarling grizzled man wearing an eye patch, a ghost, a menacing wolf, and two human faces. Will lifted one of them: a heavy-jowled, middle-aged man with pursed lips, with long silver strands of hair hanging on either side of his balding head.
“Who does that look like to you?” asked Will.
“Dude on the hundred-dollar Benjamin,” said Nick.
“Benjamin Franklin,” said Ajay.
“Whoa. That’s a coincidence,” said Nick.
Will lifted the last mask. “And this one?”
“George Washington?” asked Ajay.
“The father of our country?” said Nick, then with mock outrage, “Okay, now they’ve gone too far.”
“The people I saw down here were wearing these,” said Will, realizing. “That’s why their faces looked so weird. Twelve hats. Twelve masks.”
“So what does it mean?” asked Ajay.
“I don’t know yet,” said Will.
Will searched the trunk again and found a yellowing envelope in a small net fastened to the side. He removed an equally aged piece of paper and unfolded it. An embossed insignia topped the sheet, a round cluster of tightly arranged flower blossoms, topped by a square formed by four crossed tools or weapons. In their center was a grinning death’s head. A headline below the insignia read THE PEERS. Below that, in graceful, exquisite calligraphy, was a list of names that filled the rest of the page.
Orlando
Renaldo the Fox
Namo the Duke
Salomon the King
Turpin the Archbishop
Astolpho of the West
Ogier the Dane
Malagigi the Enchanter
Padraig de Mort
Florismart the Friend
Ganelon the Crafter
Guerin de Montglave
“The Old Gentleman”
Will, Nick, and Ajay looked at each other.
“The Peers,” said Will. “You recognize any of these names?”
“No,” said Nick. “But then I don’t own a phone book from the fourteenth century.”
“Any guesses?” asked Will.
“The French national soccer team?” said Ajay.
“The Twelve Musketeers?” said Nick.
“Okay, okay,” said Will.
“Twelve hats, twelve masks,” said Ajay, “but thirteen names on the list.”
“What’s up with that?” asked Nick.
“I’d venture a guess that a hat and mask correspond to each name,” said Ajay. “Except for the last, which is in quotes and is really a description, not a name.”
“ ‘The Old Gentleman,’ ” said Will.
“So let’s take all this stuff with us and brainiac it later?” asked Nick, yawning again, glancing at his watch. “I really need to crash.”
“No,” said Will. “We should put it all back exactly as we found it. Spread everything out first—I want to take pictures.”
“I’m quite certain I can remember them, Will,” said Ajay pointedly.
“I know. We may need to show them to someone else.”
Nick and Ajay laid the masks and hats on the floor. Will pulled out his cell phone and activated the camera. “Can we get more light in here?” he asked.
Nick tried more switches by the door. None turned on fixtures in the locker room, but one activated lights in the corridor outside. He stepped out to look at them. Will took shots of the hats and masks, then leaned in to snap close-ups of the paper with the insignia and the list of names.
“So the people you saw were wearing both hats and masks?” asked Ajay.
“Which could explain why it took them so long to come after me,” said Will. “They had to put all this away first.”
Nick slowly backed into the locker room, looking pale. “Uh, hate to harsh your mellow. We need another way out of here.”
“Why?” asked Will as he took the last photo.
“Bad guy. Far end of the hall. With a big-ass knife …”
“What?!”
“… and a medium-sized hatchet,” said Nick.
“Are you high?” asked Ajay.
Will and Ajay stuck their heads out into the hallway. A long row of single bare lightbulbs had come on, suspended from the ceiling down the full length of the corridor, creating small sharp pools of light that didn’t quite blend. In a last splash of light at the far end, just before the distant corner, stood a lone figure.
The figure was tall, wrapped in a black cloak, and wore an iron helmet. He looked up, appeared to see them, and drew something from his belt: a short sword that gleamed in the light. The figure headed their way, picking up speed as he rushed from one pool of light to the next. A harsh, bloodthirsty cry echoed down the corridor.
“Thank God I already peed,” said Ajay.
Will yanked them both back into the room and shut the door. “Look for another way out,” he said.
Nick and Ajay frantically searched the room and adjoining bathroom. Will turned the lock on the inside knob and rattled it to make sure it was secure.
OceanofPDF.com
#15: BE QUICK, BUT DON’T HURRY.
“Anything in the bathroom?” shouted Will.
“Not unless we flush ourselves,” said Ajay.
“You might fit,” said Nick. “Then you could go for help.”
Will studied the lockers. They were welded in groups of three, stacked against the wall. He dropped to his knees and saw that the section in the middle was missing the small strip of wood that attached to the floor.
“Give me a hand here,” said Will. “Now!”
The others ran to him as a teeth-gnashing howl sounded outside. Will threw open the lockers in the middle group—all empty—then grabbed the shelves and pulled. The lockers shifted toward him slightly.
“This section isn’t fixed to the wall,” he said. “Something’s back here.”
“See if you can find a button or a switch of some kind,” said Ajay.
They each searched a locker. Nick found ventilation holes punched in the back of the middle one and put his eye to it. “I don’t see a wall,” he said. “It’s open back there.”
The doorknob rattled, then fierce pounding on the door began.
“There must be another concealed button. Look for unusual shapes or indentations,” said Ajay, pressing every inch of metal. “Could be anything, a pressure or kick plate of some kind … oh God, oh God …”