by Rob Reger
“It’s like we grew together, and soon we’ll grow apart,” Molly says, very dramatically.
She also tells me that she has been calling Sharon and George regularly these days. “Just to make sure no one’s staying in my room.” She looks at me and laughs. “No offense.”
Man, I have to solve my problems fast and get Molly out of my hair SOONLIKE. Am waiting very impatiently for the sand to clear up.
About two hours later
BREAKTHROUGH!!!!! (Finally!)
We had all been sitting around in the van for several hours while we waited for the sandstorm to stop. Molly was getting testy, and trying to talk me into sending Raven out into the storm to turn off the generator, which wasn’t going to happen. That girl does not take well to boredom. Eventually I had to start giving her assignments. First I tried to get her to write a well-supported descriptive essay on what she did last summer, but she flat-out refused. Then I told her she should talk to Raven for a while, but that made her even crabbier. Finally I told her to look around the van for McFreely’s collar and she did give it a shot for about five minutes and then gave up. She informed me she was going crazy and plopped herself down on the backseat of the van nice and hard, which apparently unlatched some sort of latch, causing the seat to spring up violently and pitch Molly face-first onto the floor. When the cats and I got done laughing our cheeks off, I thought to inspect under the seat, which is where I found THE GLORIOUS AMNESIA DEVICES.
Oh lovely. Good old cranky Molly. Good old amnesia devices! I wanted to hug them. Uh, unfortunately there is no RESTORE device. Or maybe it’s fortunate, since I really don’t know if I would’ve had the self-control to maintain my amnesia for one more minute. Instead, there’s a BACKUP device and a BLOCK device, which has several dials where you can set expiration dates for several different cases of amnesia. (Which gives me ideas. But more on that later.) My own current case of the forgetfulness is going to clear up in two days. Which, according to Molly, is when my mom expects me home.
Am extremely happy to know there is a solid expiration date on the amnesia.
Now if we could just get out of the van.
About an hour later
Sandstorm is over. We are all walking around, overjoyed to be out of the van. Also, the sandstorm scoured all the beige off Emma’s building. Belgium, it’s AMAZING! Those old photos I saw were of a plain, reasonably attractive black building, nothing extraordinary at all. But now, what I’m seeing? It’s a different ANIMAL. I mean, it’s actually kind of LIKE an animal. It has scaly texture and ridges and a crazy sort of beak on the roof. Weird curvy pillars, sinister carved plants and animals and ghoulish faces, gargoyles frolicking on the roof and hanging off the corners. And when I say frolicking, I mean I can see them kind of just out the corner of my eye, darting around, and then dashing back to their places when I look. And all in slick, glistening, harder-than-drop-forged-American-steel black rock.
Weird, huh?
I wonder what made it change since the old photos?
At least I’m pretty sure I understand the beigeifying now. If I were Great-Aunt Emma, I’d be pretty anxious to keep this place hidden from certain eyes.
Um, I AM pretty anxious to keep this place hidden from certain eyes, and I don’t have any three-story beige dropcloths handy, either.
There is now nothing left standing in Blackrock except Emma’s building. Therefore, it’s pretty easy to see out to the edge of town, where Professor Ümlaut’s Prophylactery and Revue and Uncle Attikol’s Deadly Dollhouse are still hanging around, in trailers that are very ready for new post-sandstorm paint jobs.
Showdown time is coming.
Day 29
Am sitting on the bench at the minipark. Have talked to Molly about that code word of hers. She says it was just something my mom said a lot, so when I found Molly in Blandindulle, she naturally said it to me. I guess I had set it up as a sort of failsafe, in case something went terribly wrong, so that my mom would be able to break the amnesia.
Anyway, I sent Molly down into the closet to try entering the code word in the bottom lock. Then left her and Raven at the El Dungeon, which is currently full of construction workers getting coffee and sandwiches before they ditch town. Word is, they are giving up. All their equipment has been wrecked on my crazy black building and in the sandstorm. Attikol doesn’t have the money to keep them here, or the manpower to threaten them all with kneecapping, so that’s that—looks like he is not going to be completing his challenge after all.
Not that he isn’t still a major threat to me. If I don’t get him thoroughly neutralized, he will eventually be back with more money and more construction crews with bigger equipment.
Have been sitting here on the bench pondering all this, plotting my next move, and staring at the ex-tree, which as of yesterday was the only tree left in Blackrock, but after yesterday’s sandstorm is a lifeless, leafless, barkless, branchless trunk. Was feeling kind of bad that I had to go and destroy the very last tree in Blackrock, but the more I looked at it, the less it looked like an ex-tree at all, and the more it looked like a too-smooth, too-round, human-made, tree-simulating POLE. With a scar near the base, where someone apparently tried (and failed) to cut it down. Its “knothole,” about five feet up, is so clearly a button, I wonder how I ever mistook it for a knothole.
Thought back to Day 6, when I hit that button with a rock, and the letter in the bench flipped over, and my innocent young heart was filled with dreams of glorious secret contraptions all through the town. Man, why couldn’t the locks downstairs work that easily?
Oh wait now.
The light on the middle lock was yellow. Not red.
Maybe I’ve already done something to turn it yellow.
—OK, have given the button another hit with a rock, and maybe—
Hey, I see Molly running up, gotta go
Later-oh this is goooooood stuff!
OK: Molly told me something amazing: She dialed in her code word, and then the dials started turning on their own!!!!!
She and I ran down into the closet right away.
First thing I noticed was that the dials had indeed changed.
Second thing was that the light on the middle lock was green. And the lock was open. Sweet—Looks like the ex-tree button did the trick!
Third thing was that the bottom lock was still locked.
So. I sent Molly back upstairs and I’m at the door right now.
Having some kind of conversation.
With the ghost in the door.
First I dialed “HELLO GREAT-AUNT EMMA.”
And watched in creeped-out amazement as the dials turned on their own to say “WELCOME MY DEAR.”
ME:
MAY I COME IN
GREAT-AUNT EMMA:
IS YOUR FRIEND GONE
ME:
YES
GAE:
HOW DID SHE KNOW CODE
ME:
FROM MY MOM
GAE:
I HOPE YOU TRUST HER
ME:
ME TOO
GAE:
ARE YOU READY
ME:
AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHHA
GAE:
BE SERIOUS
ME:
IM VERY SERIOUS
GAE:
I KNOW
And the door clicked open.
I think I was expecting to see Great-Aunt Emma. But the room is empty. Of ghosts, I mean. It’s full of shelves and shelves holding jars of blackrock. Jars that have dates on them. Dates that go back CENTURIES. And notebooks. Notebooks full of detailed information on centuries’ worth of experiments.
Experiments involving the black rock.
And behind the shelves, on all the walls, and even on the ceiling, tiny handwriting. I still have MUCH more to read, but here’s what I learned in the past half hour:
Hundreds of years ago, my family and Attikol’s were in a bitter feud that had been raging on for decades.
They were feuding over ow
nership of the liquid black rock, which both families believed to have amazing and…unusual properties.
My family had been using it mainly for scientific-experimentation-type purposes, whereas Attikol’s family had been selling it as a cure-all in their traveling medicine show.
Sometime in the 1620s, my family won the rights to the black rock in an epic game of Primero Calamità, which was a VERY early version of…that’s right. Calamity Poker.
Attikol’s family stood by the outcome of that game for about 200 years.
But during that time, Attikol’s family legend was getting more and more…fictionalized.
So by the time Attikol’s great-great-great-grandjerk started up the feud again, he didn’t even know what they had actually been fighting over, 200 years prior.
And by the time the family Destiny had been handed down to Attikol, the story had been completely mangled. Like a game of Operator played over 400 years. By a bunch of half-wits.
So Attikol doesn’t know Great-Aunt Emma was his ancestral enemy. He just started coming to Blackrock about 13 years ago because he liked it here. Town officials easily bribed, good audiences for the gun and doll show, great Pötion sales, etc.
But Great-Aunt Emma had been keeping tabs on him, and when she saw that he was headed to Blackrock, she beigeified the El Dungeon, to disguise it.
And then made her arrangements to have letters sent to me and Schneider 13 years later.
And then died.
And it goes to show just how bright Attikol is, that all these years later, and even with the Moon Child working for him, he still doesn’t have a clue.
Pretty great stuff, huh? I may not know my real name, but I’m busting with family pride.
Also, I am now more worried than ever about Attikol seeing Emma’s building without its protective beigeifications.
Also, I have a crazy, possibly desperate idea how to get rid of Attikol once and for all.
Later
Molly had already made friends with all the construction workers at the El Dungeon and was getting antsy, so I took her upstairs with me to pay Schneider a visit at Crazy Vet Hilda’s. The two of them were drinking tea in her kitchen. And being crawled over by 13 or so former alley cats. And having a conversation. It’s beyond me how he can understand her. Clearly a case of hereditary mental oddness.
As soon as we came in she started on the nonsense.
HILDA:
Flu loathe book must bite cold lemming!
ME:
Yes, it…must.
SCHNEIDER:
She says you both look just like old Emma. Wow, Earwig, I didn’t know you had a twin. Is she named after an insect, too?
ME:
That’s very witty, Schneider. Molly, meet Mayor Schneider, professional laugh riot.
H:
Postmark brewery ghoul seems adverbial!
ME:
Totally adverbial…Hey, Molly, why don’t you go upstairs with Hilda and take the tour?…So, listen, Schneider. I really need to ask you one last favor. You know how to play Calamity Poker?
S:
Oh no, I could never afford to play even one game.
ME:
Well that’s great, because…wait, what?
S:
I’ve never played it. Anyway, it takes years to learn all the rules.
ME:
No way, man, I learned it in a few days. S: What? Who taught you? I heard you have to go through some kind of blood ritual first, so you can be an honorary relative of Attikol’s.
ME:
Ewwwwwwwwwww!
S:
Sorry, that’s what I heard. I guess he takes that game really seriously.
ME:
Well listen. How would you like to become an honorary member of MY family?
S:
Sure. Wait, does it involve a blood ritual?
ME:
No. Well, that WOULD be kind of cool actually. S: Didn’t I just hear you ewwing at blood rituals?
ME:
Oh no. I was ewwing at becoming a relative of Attikol’s.
S:
Oh, right. But how come your family is allowed to learn Calamity Poker?
ME:
Well that’s a story for another time, isn’t it? Anyway, I hereby declare you an honorary relative of Emma LeStrande, and of me, Earwig, whatever my last name may be, from now until eternity, across the known universe, yeah yeah yeah, so be it.
S:
Sounds good. Now do you mind just explaining what is going on?
ME:
You’re gonna be the Dealer at a very important game of Calamity Poker. Here [handing him The LeStrande Guide to Calamity Poker, copyright 1890, which I’d found in the secret closet], start learning the rules, I’ll be back.
Later
Some stuff has happened. Major stuff. Not a lot of time right now, but am feeling the need to document EVERYTHING in these critical moments. Here goes.
When Molly and I got back to the El Dungeon, I told her I needed to talk to her out in the van. And when we got in there I pointed at the amnesia devices and said, “How would you like to be a completely new person for the next three months?”
MOLLY:
[Flabbergasted.] Are you even kidding me right now?
ME:
Amnesia device is right here, Molly. I can set it for three months. Six months, a year. Ride of your life, I guarantee it.
M:
[Eyes totally glowing.] You are not even kidding me right now.
ME:
Let’s get your suitcases and see if you have anything that looks like my dress, huh?
It took her about half an hour to get herself outfitted into a reasonable copy of me. I trimmed her bangs. Found her a mostly blank notebook in the Dumpster near the school. And wrote her a cheat sheet. It went a little something like this:
Your name is Earwig.
You have a friend named Jakey who is a for real psychic.
You have to go find his trailer and tell him what happened, which is that you fell and hit your head and started losing all your memories for the third time, so you started writing this note so you would know what to do after everything was gone.
And now everything is gone.
I figure she can let Jakey fill in the rest of the blanks for her. I just really hope that she can keep him busy while I play a quick game of Calamity Poker with Attikol.
Later
Things are moving along nicely. Made some preparations, got Raven all programmed for her role in the plan, then the cats and I went and knocked on Jakey’s trailer. Boy was he surprised to see me! And even more surprised when I told him I wanted to join the medicine show. Said I’d be the crystal ball reader. Told him I’d missed him a lot—at least that part was true.
And guess what—it worked, my plan with the cats, to keep Jakey from reading my mind. I got the idea from Great-Aunt Emma’s patent application for the Cat Thoughtwave Amplifier. She had found that just a small dollop of liquid black rock could amplify the thoughts of cats to the point that any ordinary human could understand them. I figured, if I cranked the volume on the cats’ thoughts, they’d be so loud that Jakey wouldn’t know what was really on my mind. Especially if I distracted him with stuff he really wanted to hear. Anyway, it worked! I gave the cats a good soaking in black rock and could hardly hear myself think.
I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure it would work. Wouldn’t have taken the risk at all if I didn’t think it was necessary. I thought and thought about it, and what it came down to was this: I just didn’t believe Jakey would take me/Molly along with the caravan unless he’d heard it from me that I wanted to come. You know? Still, I had severe doubts about going over there. I’d even thought about wearing a cap of tinfoil. Thought very seriously about it. But in the end I didn’t. I mean, either the black-rock-soaked cats would do the trick, or they wouldn’t. Also, I don’t know that there have been, like, a bunch of well-documented studies showing that tinfoil is effective at blocking mental a
ttacks or psychic leakage.
Anyway, the cats DID do the trick. Poor Jakey, he was just listening to their crazy thoughts (mostly evil intentions toward his parrot), and never noticed me lying my cheeks off. I do feel kinda bad for tricking him. Even if it’s for my Destiny and all. But you know what, Molly will be a much better friend for him than I would. I can only stand human company for so long.
He seemed so happy about me coming with them, though.
I have a feeling that’s going to haunt me.
Day 30
Molly Merriweather may not be good with boredom, but at least she’s up for an adventure. I had Raven drive us all out to the medicine show caravan, and then I gave Molly a nice tough case of amnesia with an expiration date of three months. That should get them far enough away. Quickly, before the dazed look in her eyes could clear up, I handed her the cheat sheet and the blank notebook, and pointed her toward Jakey’s trailer.
Then I hid in the van and waited until Raven said Molly was inside. And then Raven and I went to see Attikol.
All the fashionistas were running around packing up their medicines, guns, dolls, crystal balls, and what-have-you. General moving-day hubbub: shouts of “Pinking screamcakes!” and “Blood and Gor!” Curls was toting boxes and swearing. No Attikol (or Ümlaut) in sight. The bosses were apparently kicking back while the underlings broke camp. We found their trailers—not hard, they had large lurid (though partially sand-blasted) portraits of Attikol and Ümlaut painted on the sides—and Raven knocked on Attikol’s door.
