by Becket
They ran out of the Wicked Woodlands and up the front path to Gideon Gizmo’s ramshackle home.
“We’ll be safe in there,” shouted Mr. Fuddlebee. “There’s plenty of light.”
Hearing this, the Darkness hurtled itself at them more furiously than ever. The path beneath their feet started shaking violently.
Bernard and Beatrice lost their balance and fell over. So did Gates. Bernard dropped Berkeley. Beatrice landed on her bookbag and crushed her calculator. Gates dropped the mechomatic. All of them went rolling in the dirt.
The flood of Darkness would wash over them any second now.
Berkeley used his power to lift everyone up into the air and thrust them through Gideon’s front door.
“Back for tea so soon?” his motherboard chirped.
The five of them were now safe inside—all except Berkeley. They looked up just in time to see him use his power to close the front door right before the Darkness crashed over him and against the mechmage’s jack-o-lantern house.
The sound of the Darkness flooding all around was horrifying.
SHOOOMMMM!!!!!!!
CHAPTER TWENTY
DIOS Comforts
For a few moments there was a long silence. No one could say anything. They were all dumbstruck by what had just happened. Was Berkeley lost forever? Did the Darkness eat him alive?
Finally, Mr. Fuddlebee spoke in a tired voice.
“Is everyone all right?”
Gideon Gizmo the mechmage had been thrown into a pile of broken clock parts. He whistled weakly and wheeled forward. One of his wheels had come loose and now had a slight squeak.
Gates the zombie cyber girl had been thrown into a tangle of wires. She had several dents in her robotic parts, and her skin was cut in a few places too, but none of it was afterlife-threatening.
Bernard and Beatrice were hurt the most. They were bruised on the outside; they were crushed on the inside. They were holding each other near the front door, and weeping into one another’s arms.
“Berkeley is dead,” Beatrice cried out.
“We left him outside,” Bernard said. “The Darkness got him.”
Mr. Fuddlebee pointed his onbrella at the door. The onbrella buzzed and hummed with information. He studied the readout on the handle. Then the most peculiar thing happened.
The ghostly corners of Mr. Fuddlebee’s ghostly mouth curved up in a subtle smile. He raised one of his ghostly eyebrows at Gideon.
“You genius little mechmage,” he said with a smirk.
Mr. Fuddlebee then turned back to the two children. His smile was replaced with a look of concern.
“You did not see your little brother get swallowed whole, did you.”
Bernard and Beatrice shook their heads at the same time.
“No,” they said, softly sniffling.
“Do not give up hope so soon,” the elderly ghost responded in an encouraging tone. “We might be in for a surprise or two. Part of our mystery is solved. We know who snuck into Halloween Hollow. It is the Darkness, the very thing that makes all the other dark places in the world. Yet we do not know why it has come here or what it wants.”
Gates was untangling herself from the mess of wires.
Gideon wheeled over to help her.
“The Darkness has never tried to get into the Hollow before,” Gates said. “I wonder why he’s trying now.”
Bernard and Beatrice did not want to think about mysteries. They did not want to figure out what was wrong with the hollow or their house. They thought Berkeley was gone. Their home had never seemed so hollowed out.
Mr. Fuddlebee floated down closer to them and spoke kindly. “The Darkness has come. The light seems to have gone out. But even in the darkest of dark places of the world, the smallest light shines brightest. Have hope, my dear children. Have hope.”
“How can we have hope?” asked Bernard.
“We do not feel hopeful,” said Beatrice.
Mr. Fuddlebee turned to Gates.
“Do you happen to have a Gnostike Timepiece?”
“I do,” she responded. “It is the key to the Heart of the Hollow.”
“Would you mind letting the children hold it for a moment?”
“What for?” asked Bernard.
Gates took out a small device that looked like a pocket watch. She gave it to Mr. Fuddlebee. He turned and handed it to the two Button children.
“Like my onbrella, and like our dear Gates,” he explained, “this device runs on the Dimensionally Intelligent Operating System.”
“DIOS,” said Beatrice.
The elderly ghost’s green face lit up delightedly.
“That’s correct! Open it and take a peek inside.”
The two Button children did as he said. Inside was not like normal pocket watches. There were arms and numbers telling the time, the day, the week, the year, the century, the millennium, the epoch, and much more. The numbers were all over the place. Many were inky, some were misty, a few were written, and one or two were like shimmering motes of magic dust. There were also dozens of arms, the long ones spinning quickly, the short ones ticking slowly, and the squiggly ones disappearing and reappearing in new places. And there were also gears whirring, and lights blinking, and wires zapping with electricity. It was the most amazing pocket watch they had ever seen.
“How will this help us?” asked Bernard.
Mr. Fuddlebee pointed to the blinking lights.
“This is a simple way to talk with DIOS and get a simple answer. But you must ask her a simple question.”
Bernard studied the watch face intently. “DIOS,” he said, feeling a little silly, “what happened to my little brother?”
“No,” said Beatrice, “you have to make it simple.”
She brought the Gnostike Timepiece close to her mouth.
“DIOS,” she said, “make all the lights flash once for Yes, and for No stop flashing them. Okay?”
The many lights on the watch face had been blinking randomly—some fast, some slow, some steadily, some strangely. But now they all flashed together once, answering her question.
Beatrice smiled at Bernard. “See?”
“That’s a binary code,” said Bernard.
“The simplest communication is often the most effective,” Mr. Fuddlebee said, “even if it does take a little more time.”
“DIOS,” Beatrice asked the timepiece, “is our little brother dead?”
All the lights stopped blinking for a second or two. Then they started blinking randomly again.
Bernard thought this was amazing.
“DIOS,” he said, “are you saying Berkeley is alive?”
All the lights flashed together at once.
Bernard and Beatrice were overjoyed at this.
Mr. Fuddlebee chuckled.
“If you feel hopeless, talk to DIOS. She’ll help your hope.”
Then he turned and floated through the front door.
“Follow me when you’re ready,” he said the second before he disappeared.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The Protection Spell
Bernard and Beatrice were almost too stunned to move.
“Do you think Berkeley might be all right?” she asked him.
“I don’t know,” Bernard replied. “Mr. Fuddlebee knows an awful lot. And this operating system—”
“DIOS,” Beatrice said, turning the Gnostike Timepiece over in her hand.
“It has given me hope,” he said.
“She,” Beatrice said. “Mr. Fuddlebee says DIOS is a she.”
Bernard corrected himself, “She has given me hope that Berkeley is alive.”
Beatrice grinned broadly.
“Do you think Mr. Fuddlebee will let us have one of these timepieces?”
“I hope so,” Bernard said. “Come on. Let’s go find Berkeley.”
They handed the Gnostike Timepiece back to Gates.
But before they all went through the door, Gideon Gizmo came over beeping and whistling.<
br />
“He says magic surrounds your little brother,” Gates explained.
“We know Berkeley is magical,” Bernard said.
“He makes things float,” Beatrice added.
Gideon beeped and whistled again.
Gates gave him a confused look. “I do not understand. Say it differently.”
Gideon whistled and beeped and clicked and clacked.
Gates shrugged. “He keeps saying that the boy is surrounded by magic. I do not understand it.”
Gideon wheeled to the front door and opened it.
To the left was the Wicked Forest. To the right was Halloween Hollow. Above was the flickering lanterns of the dwarves. The Darkness had vanished. And before them all, sitting safely on the front walkway, was Berkeley Button. He was surrounded by a bright magical bubble, which popped the instant they saw him.
“Berkeley!” Bernard and Beatrice chorused joyously.
They ran to him and hugged him as if they had not seen him in years.
Gates turned to Mr. Fuddlebee. “How is this possible?”
The elderly ghost tried not to smile too much.
“I think we have a little mechmage to thank.”
Gates, Bernard, and Beatrice all stared at Gideon Gizmo at once.
He blushed and backed away.
“How did you do this?” Beatrice asked him with a grateful smile.
He beeped and whistled while Mr. Fuddlebee translated.
“When your younger brother used his power to push us all safely into Gideon’s home, our mechmage put a luminous protection spell over the youngster. The Darkness washed over him and never touched him.”
Bernard shook the little mechmage’s hand. “Thank you, sir,” he said gladly. “Thank you very much! I owe you.”
Beatrice threw her arms around his little neck and kissed his cheek.
“You’re the smartest mechmage ever!”
Gideon beeped bashfully and his cheeks turned redder than rubies.
Mr. Fuddlebee nodded with approval. “Good show, old boy!”
Beatrice saw her bookbag and calculator lying in the grass. The bookbag had a long tear in it. The books were ruined; pages were torn out. The calculator was smashed to bits.
“All my things are broken,” she said.
Gideon held out his hands, beeping and whistling, hoping she might give them to him.
“Here,” she said with a sigh, handing everything over to him, “they’re useless now.”
The mechmage eagerly took them inside his home, wheeling and whistling merrily. He had piles for everything he collected. He put the ruined books with very old magazines. Then he put the broken calculator in a pile of old knickknacks. He paused to admire his collection for a moment.
Then he wheeled back outside and wondered why Gates was searching the walkway with a concerned expression.
“It is gone,” she was saying.
Gideon beeped at her questioningly.
“My mechomatic,” she answered. “I dropped it here when I fell. Now it is gone.”
The Button children could not see it, Gideon’s sensors could not locate it, and Mr. Fuddlebee’s onbrella could not find it either. It was indeed missing.
Mr. Fuddlebee studied his onbrella’s readouts thoughtfully.
“Have you ever lost anything in the dark?” he asked everyone. “In the light it’s there, but when the lights go out, it’s gone.”
“It happened to me once,” said Beatrice. “One night I set down a good book, a notepad, and a pencil. The next morning they were all gone.”
Mr. Fuddlebee sighed. “They were not simply gone. They were stolen.”
“Was my mechomatic stolen too?” asked Gates.
The elderly ghost nodded.
“Who would do that?” asked Bernard.
“The Darkness,” the ghost answered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Darkness
Mr. Fuddlebee, Bernard Button, Beatrice Button, Berkeley Button, Gates the zombie cyber girl, and Gideon Gizmo the mechmage, all traveled together back into Halloween Hollow. This time they stayed a little closer together as they went, wondering if the Darkness might come out of nowhere all over again.
Beatrice was wondering about a conversation Mr. Fuddlebee and Gates had in Gideon’s house.
“You both said that the Darkness had never tried to get into the hollow before.”
“It’s true,” Gates answered. “The Darkness has roamed the world, going back and forth in it, and in and out of the underworld and overworld. Yet it has left the hollow alone.”
“Until now,” Mr. Fuddlebee said.
Bernard pointed to the shadow of a lamppost.
“Isn’t that a part of the Darkness?”
Mr. Fuddlebee turned to Gideon Gizmo. “My dear fellow, would you create some magic fire for us?”
The mechmage beeped out a word to weave the spell. It was the same long word he had used to light the bundles of sticks in the woods.
A little tongue of fire appeared over the palm of his hand.
Beatrice was fascinated by this magic word. She wanted to ask about it, but now did not seem like the right time.
Mr. Fuddlebee held his onbrella over the fire and lit the tip. Then he held it up like a little torch.
“From one fire you can light another. The first fire is not smaller. And both fires together make the world brighter.”
He blew out the small flame.
“The Darkness is the same,” he went on. “Smaller dark shapes come from it, such as shadows and shades. The Darkness is not diminished by them and they all make the world blacker and bleaker. Yet the difference between them is that a little light can defeat a lot of dark.”
“Shadows and shades are allowed in the hollow,” Gates added. “But the Darkness himself is too big. He will spread and spread, and eat and eat, until there is nothing left.”
Soon they all came to the middle of the hollow.
“Where do we go now?” Bernard asked.
Mr. Fuddlebee pointed his onbrella in all directions—up, down, left, right, sideways, and wideways whirling it around his ghostly bowler hat. The onbrella made all kinds of buzzing sounds, high-pitched, low-pitched, wobbly-pitched. The ghost then studied the handle.
The readouts did not appear to be very helpful, and he was about to give up, when suddenly his onbrella began buzzing like mad.
He pointed it toward a shadowy section of the hollow.
“I believe the Darkness went in this direction.”
“Where does it lead?” asked Beatrice.
Gates typed commands into a control panel on her robotic arm. “That leads to old town,” she said.
“What’s in old town?” asked Bernard.
“It is where Halloween comes from,” Mr. Fuddlebee answered.
“I never knew our house was connected to so much magic and mystery!” Beatrice exclaimed.
“Oh my dear,” said Mr. Fuddlebee with a chuckle, “every home in every part of the world—whether that home be a mansion, a house, or a cave—will always have a pinch of magic and a dash of mystery, as long as a family lives within it.”
Gideon made a few melancholy beeps.
Mr. Fuddlebee told him, “Sometimes magic and mystery can be as hard to find in a house as two motes of dust among millions. But if you keep looking, and if you do not give up, you will find both.”
Bernard scratched his head. “I’m not sure I believe that.”
Mr. Fuddlebee put his ghostly arm around the older brother’s shoulder. The touch felt like ice.
“Do not be so worried, my boy. When believing the improbable is too impossible, trusting is much easier.”
“Isn’t belief the same as trust?” asked Beatrice.
“Oh, my dear child, not at all. If they were the same thing, then they would be the same word. They are two different words because they are two different things. One time, I almost believed that there was no such thing as a Dimensionally Intelligent Operating Syst
em. DIOS runs every Mystical Creature’s magical computer from here to the end of the world. Yet I just could not believe it was possible.”
“So?” Bernard and Beatrice asked with excited looks. “What did you do?”
“I trusted that my sense of doubt would pass. And it did. Doubt is like the tide—it comes in, causes a mess, and then leaves.”
Gates studied the computer screen on her arm.
“The Darkness is approaching the Heart of the Hollow. We should hurry if we are going to catch him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Trick-or-Treat Street
Mr. Fuddlebee led the group down another long street. It seemed darker than usual. The shadows and shades seemed to be moving, as if breathing.
They turned a corner and came to one of the busiest streets the Button children had seen yet.
It was lined in cobblestones, gas lamps, and ghostly carriages.
Beatrice thought it looked like a haunted tale from a Charles Dickens novel.
The whole thoroughfare was jam-packed with all sorts of Mystical Creatures wearing the most peculiar costumes. There was a werewolf dressed as an accountant. There was a witch dressed as a lawyer. There was a vampire dressed as a politician. There was a gaggle of gargoyles dressed as a bowling league. There were a few leprechauns dressed as door-to-door salesmen. There were gremlins dressed as realtors, goblins dressed as office managers, and zombies dressed as insurance agents. And there were many, many more.
They were all complimenting one another on their costumes.
One said to another, “That’s the scariest costume I’ve seen yet.”
And another said to one, “And that costume you’re wearing scares the custard out of me too.”
Beatrice felt underdressed. “Where are we?”
“This is Trick-or-Treat Street,” Mr. Fuddlebee answered.
“It is the most important street in Halloween Hollow,” Gates added. “Everyone comes here to practice trick-or-treating.”
