The Fabulous Zed Watson!

by Basil Sylvester

  Zed-O-Vision is a gift that seems to come when needed most. At least that’s what my dad says. I’m amazing at finding emergency public washrooms, hotdog vendors, ATMs and, right now, a gas station.

  I locked my eyes on a speck up ahead. It had a roughly rectangular shape, and even with the heat rising off the asphalt, I could tell the flat top was the overhang of a gas station.

  I pointed at it. “Do you think they would know where we could get someone to fix Rusty?”

  Sam squinted at where I was pointing. “How did you even see that?”

  “Zed-O-Vision.”

  “Vision?” Gabe said. “I’ve tried your glasses on, and you have literally the strongest prescription of anyone I know.”

  I shrugged. “What can I say? Zed-O-Vision is a gift.”

  Gabe peered at the speck. “GPS has nothing on those peepers.”

  “Okay, I’m cutting this little Zed-preciation session short,” Sam said. “Can I trust you guys to be safe and go to the gas station to see if they know someone or have someone who can help us fix Dolly?”

  “Rusty,” I said.

  “You mean Dolly? Your one and only chance of getting anywhere close to the dopey book you want?”

  “Yeah, Dolly,” I said. “That’s what I meant.”

  “Good. Now as soon as you get to the station, call my cell and let me know what’s up. I’ll stay with the car and our gear. And maybe I can get enough juice to at least get us out of the ditch.”

  “Aye, aye,” Gabe and I said with mock salutes.

  Then we started walking.

  The ditch had seemed like the Grand Canyon when we were sliding into it, but really it was just a little slope with some weeds and water at the bottom. We skirted the top until the shoulder got wider and then we started walking on that. We kept the steel barrier between us and the road.

  I looked back and watched Sam flex her muscles and start pushing Rusty—or I guess I should say Dolly—little by little back to the shoulder of the road.

  “Sam, you are a force,” I whispered.

  “Yes, she is,” Gabe said.

  We walked for a little bit in silence. The sun beat down.

  “Whew. It’s hot,” I said.

  “No kidding. And it’s not a dry heat either.”

  “It’s like someone wrapped a damp blanket around us.”

  “A damp blanket that’s been microwaved,” Gabe added.

  “Well done,” I said.

  “Not yet,” he replied with a smile. “I think I’m only medium rare. But give it a few more minutes.”

  “Gabe, you are opening up like a rose under my guidance. I couldn’t be prouder.”

  “And I’ve even got you listening to opera. I couldn’t be prouder.”

  We reached a crossroads.

  “Where’s the gas station?” Gabe asked.

  “Well, it should be right around here.” I scanned the horizon. I looked back and could still see Sam and the car in the distance.

  I groaned. “What if the gas station was just a mirage? What if I got so hot and scared that I hallucinated an oasis, like people do in the Sahara Desert?”

  “You saw it before we started walking in this heat,” Gabe said. “It’s real. And I saw it too. It must be close.”

  I activated the Zed-O-Vision again and looked forward. “It’s still up ahead! But even with my awesome powers, I can’t believe I saw that far!”

  Gabe smiled. “Ah. Science again.”

  “Science?”

  “It’s because of the heat.”

  “So I was imagining it?”

  “No. It’s an effect that happens in hot air. The light gets bent and you can see faraway things, but they seem way closer.”

  “Whoa,” I said.

  “Science is cool.”

  “Let’s hope the gas station is too.”

  It took another ten minutes, but we finally arrived. There were no cars at the pumps. The white paint was peeling off the cinderblock. The windows were so covered in posters for pop and snacks that it was hard to tell if there were lights on inside.

  “Maybe it’s haunted!” I said, a thrill running down my spine. I pushed open the door and walked in.

  The inside was packed tighter than our trunk. Shelves from floor to ceiling were jammed with all kinds of weird stuff: touristy knickknacks, bobbleheads of old presidents, what looked like handmade quilts, signs with biblical sayings and even a kitchen sink.

  There was no one in sight.

  “HELLO?” I bellowed.

  Gabe shuffled around nervously.

  A man about Uncle Amir’s age poked his head around a shelf that was overflowing with various kinds of canned foods. He was wearing a flannel shirt with a puffy vest that looked like it was made from an old sleeping bag.

  “Pattern mixing,” I said. “I respect that.”

  He had a name tag that said “Leslie.”

  “Can I help you? Need to pay for gas?” he asked.

  “Actually,” I said, “we are in need of—” Then I stopped.

  Leslie had moved a bit, revealing a desk with an ancient-looking computer and a sign that read, “Internet: $2 per half hour. No video or audio. Thanks.”

  “Leslie, can I use the computer?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Can ya?”

  “What the heck?” Gabe said. “Zed . . .”

  But Leslie was already moving aside to let me pass. “Sure you may. It’s a trust system. Just drop the money in the box there.”

  I shot past him.

  “Zed!” Gabe said.

  “The quest must go on,” I called back over my shoulder. I woke up the computer, which slowly hummed to life.

  Gabe took over the conversation with Leslie.

  “Actually, we were wondering if you know someone who could fix our car. We’re just stopped on the side of the highway.”

  “You sure about that, son? You two don’t look old enough to drive.” He chuckled.

  I chuckled too. I kind of dig that old-guy humor, but Gabe earnestly replied, “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not driving.”

  “Yeah, figured that, bucko.”

  “My sister is. She’s back with the car.”

  They continued to chat, but I stopped listening. Then I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  “Hey, kid, you have to pay before you can use the computer. Minimum is two bucks.”

  I turned and looked into the face of a frowning woman wearing dirty overalls and what was once a white T-shirt. She had muscles that could give Sam’s a run for their money. She was pointing at the cash box and raising an eyebrow at me.

  I gulped.

  “Oops?” I’d been in such a hurry to check the site, I had forgotten to pay. Sheepishly, I pulled out my smiley-face wallet and produced two one-dollar bills. I folded them so they fit into the slot and tapped them gently until they disappeared.

  The woman smiled at me.

  “Thanks,” she said. Then she laughed. “I think that’s the first two bucks we’ve made in about five years.”

  I held out my hand. “Hello, I’m Zed, and my pronouns are they/them/theirs.”

  “Jo. She/her/hers.” She took off her hat, a grease-covered conductor-type one, and bowed slightly. Then she put the hat back on, backward. She looked pretty cool.

  “Tell me, Jo, am I mistaken or does that getup”—and here I waved my arm toward her overalls and work boots—“mean that you are someone who can fix a car?”

  Jo smirked. “You’re right, Zed. I can.” She fished in her back pocket for a rag and showed it to me. “Auto grease. A good mechanic gets it on her clothes, not on her hands.”

  At that moment, Gabe came over. “Zed, stop wasting time! Leslie says his cousin is a mechanic and can—”

  “Might her name be Jo?” I asked.

  Gabe’s mouth dropped open. “What are you, psychic?”

  “Just chatty,” Jo said. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Jo.”

  Gabe shook it. “And you can fix cars?” />
  “Cars that can be fixed. I’m no miracle worker.”

  “In that case, we may be out of luck,” I joked.

  Jo gave me a wink. “Well, let’s see about that. Where’s the car?”

  “Back near the highway,” Gabe said.

  “Unless Sam’s been able to push it up the hill.” I laughed. “Even with all the rocks in the trunk.”

  Jo got a weird look on her face. “Sam? Rocks?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “She’s built like a rock too. Studies geology. Gabe’s sister.”

  Jo’s face lit up. “You have got to be kidding me! Not Sam Linden?!”

  “Um, you know my sister?” Gabe asked.

  “Sort of. We’re in the same program at school. Done some geocaching stuff together. We call her Samson because she’s so strong.” Jo flexed her own muscles. “And she has amazing hair.”

  “Whoa,” I said. “This is fate! Taylor’s book is magic!”

  Gabe nodded. “It all feels meant to be,” he added. He didn’t mention the historian, but we were both probably thinking about him too. I tried to put him out of my mind and focus on getting Jo to the car.

  We asked Leslie if there was a phone so we could call Sam with the good news. He pointed at some ancient blue plastic thing on the wall.

  I dialed Sam’s cell.

  She didn’t even wait for me to say anything. Her voice boomed from the earpiece. “Zed? What took so long? Any luck? Or should I grab my rocks and start thumbing for rides—alone?”

  I looked at Jo.

  “Yup, that’s her,” she said with a laugh. “This is so wild.”

  I leaned into the mouthpiece. “I dunno, Samson. Would a buff mechanic named Jo fit the bill?”

  Sam took a second to respond. “A buff mechanic named Jo would be . . . perfect.”

  Chapter 22

  Historian Hijinks

  “Not coming for the ride?” Jo asked, standing by the open back door. A muddy brown tow truck was parked on the gravel lot a few feet away.

  “Nice try,” I said, staying seated in front of the computer. “Force me to pay my two bucks, then yank me away.”

  “Yup. That’s the kind of sketchy business model that has me and Les rolling in dough.” She gestured to the stacks of knickknacks and dust-covered boxes.

  Leslie frowned and wiped away a fake tear. “You may recollect, Jo, that you are a mere summer employee. Whereas I am the sole proprietor and owner of this treasure trove.”

  “Treasure?” Jo said with a smirk. “You mean junk.”

  Leslie held up his palms. “Maybe there’s a lamp hidden in the stacks with a wish-granting genie inside.” He looked at me and winked. “Just got to say the magic words, and unknown riches await.”

  I laughed.

  “Uh-huh,” Jo said. “Well, I’ll go make some real money and see if we can get this Dolly Carton of theirs back on the road. Gabe, are you coming?”

  Gabe looked torn. I could tell he wanted to stay, but he also wanted to see what a reunion between Samson and Jo might look like. I admit I was also debating. But I really wanted to check the fan site.

  “Psst. You go spy on the rock-heads,” I said to Gabe, “and I’ll report back on anything I find on the site. You’ll all be back here in a few minutes anyway.”

  “Okay, cool,” he said. “See you in a few.”

  He walked toward the tow truck.

  “And, Gabe,” I called, “take pictures.”

  He smiled and gave a thumbs-up. The door closed behind him with a creak.

  Leslie shuffled back to the front of the store. “Well, Zed, you have fun looking at the Twittlers and Faceboats and such. I guess I’ll keep searching for that lamp.”

  I hit a random key on the keyboard and the computer blipped back to life.

  I typed in the address for the Monster’s Castle fan site, then navigated slowly through the pages until I found Gabe’s original post: “Has anyone ever considered the possibility that the weird stuff and the flowers in the poem and the fragments are actually clues about place names?”

  There were twenty new comments. And five new members!

  Wow. The legion was growing, and they were also chatting.

  “Inspired by our noble quest, no doubt,” I said to the screen.

  “What was that?” Leslie called from somewhere among the shelves.

  “Sorry. Just talking to myself.”

  “Okay. And I’m just talking to my shelf.” He chuckled and started moving more of his treasure around.

  I scrolled past the comments I’d already read, including the one from @Hi_Its_Another: “How are you sure this is the right path?”

  The comment had made me anxious just a couple of days before. But we were finding the clues and heading in the right direction. I planned to add our latest discoveries and location to the site at the end of the thread.

  The new comments were mostly more notes of encouragement.

  Let Taylor’s monsters LIVE!!!

  The world is ready and waiting.

  But then there were two that made me pause.

  One was from another new member, @Times_Lisa: “Been following your quest. Fascinating. Can we talk?”

  Weren’t we talking on the fan site? Did @Times_Lisa have some info that could help?

  Or was it the opposite?

  My mom was always warning me about the dangers of being online. And I’d been posting where we were and where we were going.

  And now someone was “following” us. There was nothing in Gabe’s or my profile that suggested we were kids. But my danger-meter was now turned on.

  Maybe I’d hold off posting any more locations until we were back home. With the book!

  I simply typed back, “Always willing to talk. About what? And who are you? Specifics.”

  A couple more messages said, “GO FOR IT!!!”

  And then I read the final comment and froze.

  @Hi_Its_Another was back.

  Been working out the clues @TheFabulousZW has been posting.

  Nice work, ZW.

  But I’ve been sketching out a map, and I think you’re wrong.

  Wrong?

  Message me to hear more, but I’m almost one hundred percent positive The Monster’s Castle is hidden in South Carolina.

  Any Taylor fans in the area who would like to meet up and find it, let me know.

  ZW, you’re welcome too.

  I should have the book in my hands by the end of the week.

  The message had been posted two days before.

  South Carolina?

  That was in the exact opposite direction. It would take days to turn around and get there.

  Had we messed up the clues?

  The coordinates?

  Then a horrible thought popped into my head.

  Had Sam lied to us?

  She needed to be in Arizona in a few days to start school. What if she knew the coordinates we’d found were for a completely different direction? We were trusting her to tell us where the coordinates pointed. But maybe she’d made sure we still headed to where she needed to go?

  No. I shook my head. Sam couldn’t be working against us. Could she?

  Or had we all got the numbers mixed up?

  We were just two dumb kids and one dumb sortaadult. What did we know? This @Hi_Its_Another person had time and resources we didn’t have on the road. And they were certain they’d figured it out.

  I don’t know how long I sat there staring at the screen, thinking horrible thoughts. I do know that I almost jumped out of my skin when Leslie tapped me on the shoulder. The screen had gone dark.

  “Goodness, didn’t mean to startle ya! Just making some tea. Want some?”

  I couldn’t even speak. I opened my mouth, but my throat was so tight no sound came out, so I just shook my head.

  “Okay,” Leslie said. “No tea for thee, Zee.”

  “I’ll take some tea!” Gabe said.

  Gabe? When did he get back?

  How long had I b
een Zed-ding out?

  And if Gabe was back, that meant—

  Sam ruffled my hair.

  “Hey, Zed. Find anything nerdy? Well, nerdier than usual.”

  I swung around and found my voice. “I’ve just been on the fan site.” I narrowed my eyes at Sam.

  “Uh-huh,” she said.

  “Someone named @Hi_Its_Another says the book is in South Carolina! We’re totally one hundred percent the stupidest people in the world,” I said. “Unless one of us isn’t stupid . . . but evil.”

  Sam leaned away from me. “I know who I’d vote for,” she said.

  I started to shake. “You’ve never really cared about this book or this quest, have you?”

  “Zed, what is this about?”

  Gabe walked over, blowing on his tea. “Everything okay?”

  “No! No!” I said. “How do we know your sister isn’t lying about the GPS coordinates?”

  Sam scrunched up her face.

  “SEE!” I said. “The look of guilt! She needs us to go to Arizona.”

  Sam said nothing.

  Gabe looked at his sister but shook his head. “No way,” he said, but I was sure I detected a slight quiver in his voice.

  Sam was now glaring at me.

  “Move,” she said. “Now.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “I want to show you something, goofball. So move!”

  Her neck muscles were twitching. I think I heard them crunch.

  Maybe direct confrontation hadn’t been my wisest choice.

  I slid my chair sideways. Actually, Sam slid my chair sideways with just one finger, and I kind of shuffled my feet.

  She leaned down and started typing on the computer. Then she stood back up and pointed at the screen.

  Gabe and I leaned in.

  “I typed the coordinates we have into Google Maps,” she said.

  A red dot hovered over the southwest corner of New Mexico. The direction we were heading.

  “Oh,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Sam said. “We could even go straight there now, without the final longitudinal coordinates. It would take a lot of digging, but we might find this dopey book—in a decade.”

  “Oh,” I said again.

  “And you’re being such a total pain in my butt right now, I can think of another use for digging holes.”