Paul leaned over to Sofia. “Now this is what I’m talking about!”

Mothball pulled a silver device from her bigger box. It was several inches thick, cylindrical, about two-and-a-half feet long, and had several tubes running down the sides, all coming together in a tapered point at the front; two straps of cloth hung from it.

“This ’ere’s a Sonic Hurricaner,” she said, hefting it up for everyone to get a good look. “Call ’em Shurrics for short. Makes the old Sound Slicer look like a BB gun, it does. Come on, ’ave a look.”

“Yes, yes,” Master George said. “Come up, gather round. We have much more to show you and not enough time. Demonstrations will take place at the canyon bottom shortly. Departure for the Fourth is in three hours. Chop-chop!” He waved his arm toward Mothball and Rutger’s boxes.

Paul was the first one to get there.

Chapter

40

~

A Thin Sheet of Plastic

Tick’s eyes snapped open.

He shot into a sitting position, wondering what had awakened him. Had it been a noise? Did something touch him? He scanned the small room but saw nothing out of place—except for the lamp shining brightly on the dresser. That was it. Someone had turned the light on.

Man, he thought. My brain must still be asleep.

A tiny closet offered the only hiding place, and it was barely large enough to fit a little kid. He kicked off his blankets and walked over to the closet, then ripped the door open. Nothing but a pile of his old clothes and a few fresh shirts and pants.

Sighing, he stumbled backward and flopped onto the bed. Chu created something that controls people’s minds in other Realities, he thought. Making a lamp turn on to wake me up is nothing.

After another minute, he stood, rubbed his eyes and stretched, then started undressing to put on some of the fresh clothes in the closet. As he slipped into a long-sleeved gray shirt and black pants that were as comfortable as sweats, he felt an icy chill in his chest. He had absolutely no idea what to expect or what to do.

He put on his own tennis shoes, slung the leather satchel over his shoulder, and stepped up to the door. There was no handle, just a dull slab of smooth beige material. He reached out, but before his hand made contact, the door clicked and moved, swinging out into the narrow hall. Pale lights in the hall revealed that Mistress Jane’s door was also open; her room was dark.

Tick wanted to say something, ask for help, run. He expected someone to come for him, to summon him to Chu. But as far as he could tell, the whole place was deserted.