“Trust me, chief. I’ve seen way stranger things than that.”
He gave me a curious look. “Have you, now?”
“Please just tell me about Baz,” I said.
Eugene stood and strolled around the room, looking at the old black-and-white photos that hung on the walls. They showed Playland through the ages.
“I told you that Baz lived in a room over the Magic Castle ride.”
He stopped at a vintage photo of the Magic Castle. I recognized the castle-like building, with its massive turrets. Eugene only knew it from pictures. I, on the other hand, had walked through it.
“The ride caught fire and Baz died,” Eugene said. “Horrible way to go. Baz may have died that night, but people believe he never really left Playland. There are all sorts of stories about sightings. They’ve had paranormal physicists and ghostbusters and mediums and psychics and a whole slew of other so-called experts out here doing séances and what have you, all to figure out if it’s really him.”
“Do you think it’s him?” I asked.
“I know it’s him,” Eugene said with total confidence. “I’m here at all sorts of hours when nobody else is around. I’ve seen that shadow. I know what you’re talking about.”
“Why do you think he’s haunting the place?” I asked.
“Ain’t that obvious?” Eugene asked. “He wants to know how he died. Classic ghost story, right?”
It sure was. A classic unfinished ghost story. That’s why the book was in the Library. This was Baz’s story. Theo and Lu’s cousin were just bit players.
“And nobody knows exactly what happened?” I asked.
“If they did, Baz probably wouldn’t be here anymore,” Eugene said wistfully. “You know, rest in peace and all that.”
I debated with myself about how much to tell this guy. But he seemed open to the idea that things weren’t always what they seemed to be.
“Maybe I can help,” I said.
Eugene sat down in the seat across from me and looked me square in the eye.
“Now, how would you do that?” he asked skeptically.
“Do you believe Baz could see into the future?” I asked.
Eugene gave it a couple of seconds’ thought, then nodded. “Yes, I do.”
“Then maybe you’ll believe I can look into the past.”
“How so?” he asked with interest. “You got your own crystal ball?”
“Sort of,” I replied. “I know what happened the night Baz was killed.”
Eugene’s eyes went wide as if the news shocked him. “You do?”
“Yeah. There was a kid at Playland. Derby was his name. About nine years old. His parents ran a concession stand. He was afraid of the dark, and there were these kids teasing him about not wanting to go into the Magic Castle alone. So Derby went in, but he brought a candle with him, probably to see by. Big mistake. The candle lit some hanging ropes on fire.”
Eugene’s mouth dropped open in shock. His face had fallen as if he’d seen a ghost. Which he had, I guess. That much had been established.
“How could you know that?” he said, barely above a whisper.
“I told you—I can see into the past.”
“But I’ve never heard anybody say anything about that,” he said, numb. “You couldn’t have read that in a book.”
I laughed. I really did. If only he knew. But I wasn’t going to get off track.
“It’s not in a book,” I said. “Not really. I saw it. Call me an oracle too. Or whatever you’d call somebody who sees things that already happened.”
“So you think this kid Derby killed Baz?” Eugene said. “Sounds to me like it was an accident.”
“I don’t know if it was an accident or not, but I don’t think the fire Derby started burned the Magic Castle.”
Eugene sat bolt upright. “Why? I thought you said—?”
“Because I saw what really happened. Derby may have deliberately set a fire with that candle, or maybe it was an accident. I don’t know. But there’s no way a fire that big and spread that fast started with a little candle flame. It was a freaking inferno! The fire that killed Baz had to have started another way.”
Eugene stared at me with wide eyes. He was the self-appointed historian of Playland but had no clue about how the most dramatic event in the park’s history had played out.
But I did. Sort of.
“So then who set it?” Eugene asked eagerly.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But if I can figure that out, maybe Baz can rest in peace. Then maybe he’ll lighten up and let me take a peek into that crystal ball.”
“What for?” Eugene asked, confused.
“I don’t think Baz had the power to see the future,” I said. “Not on his own, anyway. I think it’s all about the crystal ball. Baz only looked into it, like watching a TV. If I can take that crystal ball and get it near my friend, maybe I can see something that’ll help us figure out what’s going to happen to him tomorrow.”
Eugene scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “Quite the story,” he said. “Explain to me how exactly you’ve come to know all this again.”
“I told you,” I said. “I can look into the past. Call me a reverse psychic. What I can’t do is see the future. For that I need the crystal ball.”
Eugene looked at the ground, deep in thought. I was asking him to help me commit a crime. If we got caught, he’d probably lose his job. Or end up in jail. Probably both.
“Tell me, chief,” I said. “Do you think the future is set, or can it be changed?”
He looked up, still in thought. His eyes traveled across the vintage pictures of Playland that hung on the walls.
“I’d like to think we have a say in our own futures,” he said thoughtfully. “What we can’t change is the past. That we have to live with.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Nothing we can do about the past, except maybe learn the truth.”
Eugene looked me straight in the eye. “You really think that kid didn’t set the fire?” he asked.
“No, he started a fire all right. I just don’t believe it was the fire that killed Baz.”
“And you can prove it?”
“I can try,” I said. “You say you love this park? Imagine if you could solve the big mystery that’s been haunting the place for decades. I can do that. I can find the truth. But I’ll need your help.”
Eugene brightened. He liked that idea.
“Maybe I can run a little interference for you,” he said. “No promises. Baz isn’t the friendliest character.”
“You get no argument from me,” I said. “He was a jackwagon when he was alive too.”
Eugene gave me a strange look.
Maybe I’d gone too far. I jumped to my feet and exclaimed, “Let’s do it!” before he could change his mind or ask any more questions.
We hurried across the rapidly brightening park, headed for the arcade. With the warm sun finally hitting the buildings along the midway, color returned to Playland and the place looked a lot less eerie. I pushed all thoughts of a sword-swinging ghost out of my head. I was going to get the crystal ball and have a shot at saving Theo. My plan was to take it home, get it to Theo, look to see what danger he was headed for, and make sure he avoided it. Then after I returned the crystal ball, I’d go back into the book and figure out what really happened that night. That would finish the story. Baz’s spirit would learn the truth and be able to move on. Classic. No more haunted amusement park. Eugene might even come out looking like a hero.
But first…Theo.
When we entered the arcade, I was on high alert, scanning for any sign of a shadowy sword-swinging demon trying to keep me from the machine. I didn’t know what I’d do if he showed up. I had to hope Eugene would somehow keep him away from me.
“Make it quick,�
�� Eugene said with a shaky voice. He sounded as nervous as I was.
I took out my screwdriver and went back to work on the last few screws in the door of the fortune-telling machine.
“If Baz shows up, tell him we’re trying to help him,” I said.
“I don’t know if that ghost listens to reason,” Eugene said. “I’ve had a couple of run-ins with him.”
“Tell me about it,” I said. “He didn’t listen much when he was alive either.”
Eugene gave me a strange look. Again. But I ignored it. Again.
I added, “I guarantee he won’t be happy about somebody messing with his crystal ball, so if you see anything—”
“Hey!” somebody shouted. “What the heck are you doing!”
We had company, and it wasn’t a ghost.
I spun around to see two security guards hurrying our way.
What I didn’t see was Eugene.
“It’s okay!” I called to the guys. “I’m with Eugene.”
I kept working on the screws, still thinking I could get the crystal ball out of there.
I was wrong.
“Put that down, kid,” one of the guards commanded. “Now.”
He was talking about the screwdriver. It was a weapon. The two guards stood behind me, keeping a safe distance in case I lashed out or something.
“Eugene!” I shouted. “Little help, please!”
No answer. Eugene had bailed.
“You got a friend here?” one guard asked.
“Yes! It’s Eugene. The other security guy.”
“Ain’t nobody here named Eugene,” the guard said. “Just drop the screwdriver, kid. We don’t want this getting ugly.”
My mind was racing. How could this guy not know Eugene? I doubted they had a very big security staff. I looked back at them and saw that the two guys were wearing khaki uniforms with dark green jackets. Eugene’s uniform was navy blue. Why was that?
The truth hit me in the gut.
Eugene wasn’t a real guard. He probably didn’t even work at the park. He was just as much an intruder there as I was. He was probably some freak who liked hanging around the old park. I couldn’t believe how he threw me under the bus like that.
I dropped the screwdriver and looked at the two guys, wondering if they’d believe the story about Baz’s ghost and the crystal ball that told the future and my friend who was going to die the next day.
Their sour faces told me all I needed to know.
I was done.
They each grabbed one of my arms and hustled me out of the arcade.
“I wasn’t breaking anything,” I argued lamely.
“Didn’t look that way to me,” one guard said gruffly.
“We’ll let the police decide,” the other said.
My stomach dropped. I had gone from thinking that everything was falling perfectly into place to realizing that everything was falling down on my head. What was I going to tell my parents? I’d been in trouble before, but nothing like this. We’re talking arrest-and-police-record-type trouble. In the meantime, Theo was still in danger.
This story was about to come to a close, and it wasn’t going to be a happy ending for anybody.
The two guards brought me back to the kitchen where Eugene and I had talked about fixing everything. What a joke. We’d been there only ten minutes earlier, but it felt like a lifetime. My mug of hot chocolate was still on the table. It was still hot.
“Cops are on the way,” one guard said. “Don’t cause any more trouble.”
“Don’t worry,” I said glumly.
He had no idea that I was actually trying to stop trouble from happening
“Hey,” I said. “You’re seriously telling me you don’t know anybody named Eugene who hangs around here pretending to be a security guard?”
The guy thought for a second and said, “I’ve been working here over thirty years, kid. Last person named Eugene left around the time I started. But he was an old coot back then. Can’t imagine he’s still around.” He laughed and added, “Unless he’s a ghost, that is.”
With that, he slammed the door and locked it.
His words made my head spin.
Playland was haunted, all right. But just how haunted?
My mind flew back to all the things Eugene had said about the park, about its history and about how much he cared about it. He knew all about Baz, too, and the fact that his ghost was haunting the midway. I glanced up at the wall and the old photos Eugene had been looking at. This kitchen held an entire history of the park. Besides old shots of the midway and the various rides, there were tons of group photos of staff through the years. Some pictures looked ancient and yellowed, as if they’d been there since the park opened. Others were more recent. One was taken only last year. It was set up like a team photo with all the employees sitting in the band shell, where concerts were held. I glanced at the photo and picked out the two security guards who had nabbed me.
There was no Eugene.
What was it the guard had said? I’ve been working here over thirty years, kid. Last person named Eugene left around the time I started.
When would that have been? The mid-1980s?
I walked along the wall, scanning the photos, looking for a staff picture from that time. I finally found one that was in color, but faded. It was another team photo taken in the band shell. A cute girl in front held a sign that said 1985. My eyes moved quickly over the faces, one by one. All the girls had big hair, and many of the guys had mustaches. It was definitely from another era. I was starting to feel dumb, when my eyes landed on a guy on the far end of the back row. Was it Eugene? The image was pretty small, so it was hard to tell, but he was wearing the same kind of navy-blue uniform Eugene had on. It could have been him, but if it was, he didn’t look any younger than the guy I’d been talking to.
Below the photo was a list of names, left to right, row by row. I did a quick scan to find the name of the guy in the last row.
When I found it, I felt as though my head was about to explode. Was it possible? Was it a coincidence? Or was there more than one ghost hanging around Playland?
The name of the guy in the last row was Eugene, all right. But there was more.
His name was Eugene Derby.
Derby.
Was this the grown-up version of the kid I’d met in the book in 1937? It was possible, I figured. The math worked. He would have been around sixty in the 1980s. But the math fell apart when you tacked on another thirty or so years to bring him to today. Eugene wasn’t ninety years old. If the Eugene Derby I’d met was the same Derby from the story, then there was only one possible explanation.
Playland was being haunted by two ghosts, and maybe this story wasn’t just about the Oracle Baz.
A flashing red light painted the wall. The police had arrived. I was about to be arrested. It was a helpless, hopeless feeling. Once they got me, any chance I had of helping Theo would be gone. I was trapped in that room with no way out.
Wait.
I always had a way out. I could get out by going in…to the Library.
I quickly reached under my shirt, grabbed the Paradox key, ran to the locked door, and held the large brass key out toward the doorknob. Instantly, the wooden surface beneath the knob went molten, and the round brass plate appeared that held the keyhole. Everett was right. The magic worked on any door. I inserted the key, twisted, and felt the familiar sensation of the heavy tumblers clicking into place.
My plan had changed. Before doing anything to help Theo, I had to do all I could to solve the mystery surrounding the death of the Oracle Baz.
I pulled open the door and let out a relieved breath.
I was back in the Library.
ON SATURDAY MORNING, LU sat with her aunt and uncle in front of Jenny’s computer screen, watching in
tently with tired eyes.
“This is futile,” Uncle Nathan said, exasperated. “It’s a shot in the dark. One in a million. We’re wasting our time.”
“Oh?” Aunt Tina said coldly. “Is there something more important you’d rather be doing?”
Uncle Nathan didn’t respond to that. He sat there quietly, chastised.
The three had been up all night at the computer. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting some more. While they took turns trying to get some sleep in Jenny’s bed, one person stayed focused on the screen.
Hoping. Praying.
The night before, soon after Lu had charged into her aunt and uncle’s room to wake them, they had started a Skype account under Lu’s name and a Facebook account for her aunt Tina. Both sent a friend request to Jo Wong. Since they had already discovered that Jenny’s phone wasn’t working, the hope was that Jo Wong’s was. Or better still, that she would log on to Skype or Facebook and discover that Jenny’s family was trying to reach her. Every fifteen minutes they made a Skype call to Jo’s number, and every fifteen minutes it wasn’t answered.
“I think we should call the police there,” Uncle Nathan said. “They have a better chance of tracking her down than we do.”
“But where would we call?” Lu asked. “Which police department?”
Uncle Nathan wanted to answer, but he stopped because he knew Lu was right. That would be another long shot.
“Let’s give this a few more hours,” Aunt Tina said. “If we don’t hear anything, we’ll have to take a stab and call our own police department, and maybe they can suggest—”
“Wait!” Lu exclaimed.
The screen changed. After hours of painful, anxious waiting, someone was answering their Skype call.
“Oh my God,” Aunt Tina said with a gasp.
All three crowded around the monitor. Nobody was breathing. Seconds felt like days as they stared at the small screen that would reveal who was answering their call. Their plea. The smaller window was dark, then suddenly flipped to an image. It was distorted by slow computer speed, but it was unmistakable.
Jo Wong had answered the call. She looked out at them from the computer screen.
Oracle of Doom Page 11
