“How—” Sofia said, then snapped her lips closed.
Tick felt like he was watching from a distance, the room still spinning. He kept picturing Mr. Chu, his science teacher, appearing in the woods, filthy and acting crazy. Had that really been him? Or had it been Reginald Chu from the Fourth Reality? Were they Alterants of each other? Was it possible they were the same person?
When Tick had been a small boy, he’d fallen off a ride at the water park, dozens of feet in the air. If he hadn’t landed on the pile of large rafting tubes, he would have smacked into the cement and been one dead kid. It had taken him weeks to get over that “too close for comfort” feeling.
That was exactly how he felt now. To know they’d come so close to being killed by the metaspides and the tunnel monster scared him. What if they hadn’t figured out the name of the pub where they escaped by sitting in that chair? What if they’d left the red square in the glass tube? How would things have turned out if they’d known someone so sinister was behind it all?
Tick leaned back in his chair, staring at the stranger on the bed as if the man could read his thoughts, expecting him to answer everything.
The man nodded, seeming to understand the shocking news he’d brought. He scribbled a few sentences on another piece of paper then handed it to Sofia. Tick and Paul leaned over to see:
By the way, I thought you’d done recognized me.
It’s Sally—ain’t my shaved head a beaut?
Don’t worry, I’ll explain purtin’ near everything.
But you gotta trust me for a minute.
As soon as Tick read it, he knew it was true. The guy sitting on the bed was Sally, head and beard shaved, dressed in disguise. But the thing that made Tick’s mouth drop open was the realization that Sally was a Realitant.
“You’ve gotta be kidding—” Paul whispered. He stopped when Sally shook his head curtly, holding a finger to his lips again.
Sally stood, holding his hands out, palms forward as if to say, Hold on—give me a second. Then he reached into the inner pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a small white box—the type in which you’d expect to find a necklace or bracelet, laid out all nice and pretty on a piece of velvet. He knelt down on the floor, placing the box gingerly on the bed, eyeing it like a ticking bomb he needed to disarm.
Paul elbowed Tick, then raised his eyebrows. Tick shrugged and quickly looked back.
Sally reached over and pulled off the top of the box, scooting as far back as he could.
Something shot out of the box and into the air—Tick lost track of it before he could tell what it was. An odd thump filled the air, like the sound of a distant thunderclap. Tick reached up and rubbed his ears; they felt like someone had stuffed cotton balls in them. He heard a faint buzz, like static on the radio.
Sally stood up, folded his arms, then grinned with satisfaction.
“Finally! Dadgum thing actually worked,” he said. “George ain’t never failed before—I reckon one of these days I’ll quit doubtin’ the old feller. But I didn’t wanna whip that sucker out ’til you knew who I was. We can talk now.”
Tick didn’t say a word—neither did his friends. The last few minutes had been so strange, so . . . weird, what were they supposed to say?
Sally laughed, a deep rumble that Tick swore shook the building. “You three look as twitterpated as a coon done found itself fallen in the outhouse bucket. Right diddly-widdly, I ain’t never seen such a sight before. What ya’ll
a-feared of? I had to play dress-up so Chu wouldn’t get all suspicious-like. Spies and such about, ya know.”
Still, none of them responded. Tick blinked, then swallowed. Then he blinked again.
“Snap out of it!” Sally roared. “We ain’t got no time to sit here throwin’ peepeyes. I got to hurry and gets myself on outta here.”
Sofia was the first one to speak. “It’s just, well, we didn’t . . . we didn’t know you were a Realitant.”
“Not to mention the news you just dropped in our laps,” Paul added. “I think I’m gettin’ too old for this stuff.”
“Nonsense,” Sally said, sitting on the bed and crossing his legs. As soon as he did, he winced and put both feet back on the floor. “Never did get how dem fancy lads like George sit that way. Yipes.”
The static-laced buzzing sound still filled the air; Tick rubbed his ears again. “Why is it okay to talk now? What was in the box?”
Sally huffed. “Boy, you think I got da first nary a clue what dat dang thing was? Round dem Realitant parts, I’m known for my brawn and grits-cookin’, not much on da brains. Ol’ George said pop that sucker open—called it a dang ol’ airborne nano whatchamerbucket—and we can talk. I done did it, and here I sit, talkin’ my silly head off, and we ain’t got nowhere fast.”
Tick took a deep breath before he’d realized it—a sigh of relief. Maybe the world wasn’t over after all.