They stood in the middle of an enormous desert, an endless sea of dunes stretching for miles in every direction. The white-hot sun blazed down so the distant horizons shimmered in a wavering haze. The only thing breaking the monotony of sand was a large, shiny pipeline about a half-mile away. The tube of opaque glass sat above ground, at least twenty feet in diameter, and ran from one direction to the other for as far as Sofia could see.
“Where are we?” Paul asked. “And what is that?” He motioned to the giant pipe.
“Looks like a huge straw,” Tick said. “Maybe a giant sand monster dropped it.”
Sofia ignored them and started walking toward the glass structure. Her heart hammered in her chest, a rise of panic as she thought about their situation. They’d just barely escaped a horrible metallic spider and now they were stuck in the middle of a scorching desert. Anger at Master George rose in her as well. How can he waste our time with this? What if we’d been killed? But deep inside, she didn’t think it was him. Something had gone wrong.
“Wait!” Paul called from behind her. “Where’s Sally?”
Sofia stopped; she’d completely forgotten about the odd man. She turned and said, “Maybe he didn’t want to follow us.”
Paul was standing on the dune next to the chair, looking around. “No way-he winked away before we did.”
“Yeah,” Tick said, also searching. “He went right after you.”
Sofia felt a disorienting chill in her gut. “Well… he never showed up here. I’ve been watching the chair since I winked in.”
Paul stumbled through the soft sand to stand next to Sofia; Tick joined them as well. Both of the boys had baffled looks on their faces, still glancing at the chair now and then as if expecting Sally to show up.
“You’re sure he didn’t wink in?” Paul asked.
Sofia rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Where would he possibly hide?”
“Dude,” Paul whispered, and that one word summed up how they all felt.
“What could’ve happened to him?” Tick asked. “Why would we wink here and not him? And what was up with him poking me in the ear?” He rubbed at the side of his head.
“What?” Sofia asked.
“Right before he winked away,” Tick explained, “he acted all weird and slammed his finger into my ear. It hurt, too. Then he sat down and disappeared.”
“He slammed his finger into your ear? ” Sofia repeated. “While a giant spider monster was trying to kill you?” It was such a bizarre thing, she couldn’t believe she’d heard him correctly.
Tick shrugged. “Don’t ask me-maybe he went crazy from the panic.”
“What if he’s in trouble?” Paul asked. “I like him-we need to help him. Even if he did try to stab you in the brain.”
Sofia felt the same sadness at Sally’s disappearance. He’d been so humble and sincere; there was just something likable about him. But she also knew that standing there waiting on a nice sunburn wouldn’t help anybody.
“Not much we can do,” she said. “Someone must’ve sent us here for a reason. Let’s go check out that glass thing.” She pointed at the tube that looked like a giant crystal worm stretching into the distant horizon.
“What if Sally shows up and we’re not here?” Paul said.
“He’s an adult,” Tick said. “He can take care of himself or come find us. I agree with Sofia-we should see what that thing is.”
Sofia started walking again. “Come on, then.”
Paul and Tick joined her, all of them marching as best they could up and down the slippery, hot dunes.
Master George sat at the head of a long, wooden table, looking around at the few people he’d asked to join him in this special Council on Things That Matter. His last guest had yet to appear, and Master George hoped he would arrive soon. It had been a near thing, winking him away as fast as he had. A large fire roared in the hearth at his back, but it wasn’t enough to rid him of the chill that iced his heart. Things were going badly. Very badly. He reached down and petted Muffintops, who purred and rubbed her back against his leg.
Most of the other Realitants had left the Grand Canyon complex already, carrying out various orders and missions agreed upon by the larger meeting earlier. That was good. Things would be said here that not everyone should hear.
Mothball sat to his left and Rutger to his right, balanced precariously on his booster seat. To Rutger’s right was Sato, looking as bored as ever, ready to take notes. Then came Nancy Zeppelin, wrapping and rewrapping a long string of her golden hair around a finger; William Schmidt, his ancient face pulled down into a frown that made him look like the Grim Reaper; Katrina Kay, her buzz-cut hair framing a pretty face with eager eyes; Priscilla Persephone, invited only because Master George knew he had offended her enough already (oh, how he hated that snooty smirk on her face; and her hair — it was orange, for heaven’s sake). Finally, next to Mothball on his left, sat Jimmy “The Voice” Porter. His nickname was sadly ironic now because the poor man’s tongue had been ripped out by a slinkbeast in the Mountains of Sorrow in the Twelfth Reality.
“Very well,” Master George said. “I think it’s time we begin.”
“Yes, let’s, ” Priscilla said in her annoying, lilting voice. “We’ve only been waiting on you. Wasting valuable time, no doubt.”
Rutger shifted forward in his seat, a slight rolling motion that brought his arms and hands to rest on the table. “Priscilla, why don’t you open up a can of shut the-”
George quickly interrupted his loyal friend. “Yes, Priscilla, I appreciate your patience.” He wanted to add that perhaps she’d like to take on a mission to the icy wastelands of the Third Reality, but refrained. “We have much to talk about, indeed.”
“Wasting time,” Rutger mumbled under his breath. “I’ll show you
…” The rest was too low to hear, but Master George thought he caught the words rat fink.
“First things first,” Mothball said. “Methinks we best be talkin’ ’bout Master Tick and his friends.”
Master George agreed. “Yes, yes, quite right, Mothball. Based on the evidence, I have no doubt that someone has violated Rule Number 462 and taken hostage the nanolocators implanted in our dear young friends from Reality Prime. We can track their general location, but nothing more-and even that signal is weak. We have tried repeatedly to wink them here, but they have remained out of our reach. This act violates no less than three Articles of Principles established by the First Realitant Symposium of 1972. It is outrageous, despicable, irresponsible, reprehensible-”
“We get the point,” Rutger said.
Master George slammed his hand on the table. “Yes! I hope you do, Master Rutger, because this is very serious indeed. Not only can we not wink in our most important recruits in years, but we have a renegade out there capable of such things as hijacking a nanolocator! The technology for such an act-”
“It has to be him,” Nancy Zeppelin interrupted quietly. “Has to be.”
A long moment of silence passed, broken only by the crackling fire. Master George closed his eyes. No one in the room doubted who the culprit could be. But if Reginald Chu had finally decided to use his significant technological powers to branch out and cause trouble in other Realities, then they were all in for a great deal of trouble. Until today, they’d all hoped, perhaps foolishly, that Chu would be happy ruling his own world with an iron fist.
“Yes, Nancy,” Master George finally said, opening his eyes and sighing. “We should all be quite nervous that Reginald Chu would stoop to such a thing. He obviously has plans for our new friends.”
William Schmidt cleared his throat, a wet, gurgling hack that made Master George wince. Then the old man spoke in his ghost-soft voice. “Chu’s spies must have learned of Higginbottom’s mysterious winking ability. Chu would do anything to have him under his control.”
“For all we know,” Katrina said, “Tick is strapped on a laboratory bed as we speak, his brain being examined for anomalies.”
Master George held up a hand, wanting the terrible talk to stop. “We must keep our minds on solutions, my dear associates. Solutions. And we mustn’t give up hope. Master Atticus is a special boy, as are his friends, and their recovery is our number-one priority.”
