A World Without Heroes (8 page)

Jason tried the handle. The door was locked. There was no keyhole near the handle. He began counting holes, tallying one hundred in each horizontal row, and about three hundred in each vertical column. A quick computation yielded a total of thirty thousand holes.

He pulled out a peg, hearing a snick as he did so. The peg was slightly longer than his little finger. Inserting the peg into a random hole, he heard it click into place.
Snick-click, snick-click, snick-click
—he tried the peg in various holes. Jason shook his head. It was the most complicated lock he had ever seen. He replaced the peg into its original hole.
Click.
The odds against randomly matching the ten pegs to the right combination of holes were staggering—far beyond something simple like winning the lottery.

Peering closely, Jason detected tiny symbols at the left of each row and at the bottom of each column. Each symbol was unique.

When closer inspection offered no new information, he
retreated down the staircase. With nothing else to do, Jason roamed and browsed. He found books about farming and tool making. Many books were written in foreign languages he did not recognize. One book in English discussed how to construct and fortify a makeshift garrison in hostile territory. Another called
The Epics of Count Galin of Misenmarch
was a hefty book full of long poems. Jason envisioned himself bringing the book home and claiming authorship as a joke. How could it be plagiarism if the material you borrowed came from another world? His English teacher would faint!

Jason was perusing an interesting manuscript called
These Short Lives
, which presented a supposedly factual account of a race of people whose lifespan was only two years, when a big dog with long white fur came into view around a corner. Jason closed the book. The dog just stood there, a juicy pink tongue lolling out. Jason approached cautiously, sinking a hand into the silky fur. “Good boy,” he said in a special voice reserved for canines. “You’re a good boy. You don’t want to maul me, do you?” Petting the animal made him wonder how his own dog was doing back home.

The dog walked away, then stopped to look back. A shiny silver bell dangling from the collar tinkled softly when the dog moved. “You want me to follow?” Jason asked, setting the book down.

The dog led him along a direct route back to the Contemplation Chamber. Dinner awaited on the table. It looked much like lunch, except that these mushrooms were yellow and shaped like stocking caps.

Jason took his seat across from the loremaster and began eating. Hermie was not present.

“That is quite a lock on the door to the upper level,” Jason said around a buttery mouthful of mushroom.

The loremaster froze with a bite halfway to his mouth.

“Where would a guy keep a combination to a lock like that?” Jason asked after swallowing.

“You are certainly a forward youth, if nothing else,” the loremaster fussed. “The upper level is forbidden. That includes me.”

“Did you design the door?”

“No.”

“Who did? The Unknown Designer?”

The loremaster shrugged.

“You know the combination, don’t you? What kind of librarian would be totally locked out of part of his own building?”

“Would you care to sample a bubblefruit hybrid I produced?”

“I repeat my question.”

The loremaster held up one of the oblong, translucent fruits Jason had noticed in the atrium. “The pure bubblefruit is virtually invisible. I mixed this one with a qualine. It tastes rather pleasant.”

“I’ll stay here beyond tomorrow if you tell me the combination.”

The loremaster raised his eyebrows. “If you were to trespass in the upper level, I would have to throw you out. If that is your design, I would prefer you depart at once.”

Jason had lost interest in eating. The loremaster took a bite.

“You don’t need to give it to me,” Jason said with all the nonchalance he could muster. “Just tell me
how
to get the combination. A little clue. I’m only curious about the door. I’ve never seen a lock like that one.”

The loremaster eyed him uncertainly. “A sudden interest in locks, is it? Very well, if you are determined. I have offered ample warning. A book called
The Life I Have Known
may contain a clue.”

“How do I find the book?”

“I’ll have it delivered to your room.”

Jason returned to his food. He bit into the bubblefruit hybrid. The inside was syrupy, but sweet and good. Greenish fluid dribbled down his chin. He finished with a slice of blue root pie.

Afterward, while Hermie cleaned up, the loremaster escorted Jason to a bedroom. The austere chamber contrasted with the lavish architecture prominent elsewhere in the building. A small cot, a stool, a simple table, and a dresser topped with a laving basin were the only furnishings. Bare walls, bare floor, no windows.

Once he was alone, Jason blew out his single fat candle, plunging the room into darkness. Somewhere far off he heard the faint jingle of a bell. Taking a seat on his cot, Jason got out his cell phone, the glow from the screen pushing back the darkness. He reread his messages. The battery was nearly dead.

Jason wished Matt or Tim were with him. They had been his best friends for years. Matt was the most loyal person Jason had ever met, and Tim was hilarious. If they were here, Jason doubted he would feel scared.

But they weren’t here. Nobody was here. He wondered if Matt and Tim would blame themselves for his disappearance. They would probably assume the blow from the baseball had given him a brain clot or something. He imagined them searching for his body. He wished he could somehow tell them that he was alive. He wished he could hop on his bike and meet up with them, maybe catch a movie, or throw a ball around, or organize a homerun derby.

Someone knocked softly on his door.

“Come in,” Jason said.

Holding a candle, Hermie entered and shut the door. After setting the candle down, he sat on the floor. “Weird light,” the boy commented. “Do you dabble in Edomic?”

Jason glanced at his cell phone. “It’s from the Beyond. It won’t last much longer.”

“Thanks for not saying anything about the river. I didn’t have permission to be there.”

“No problem,” Jason said.

“What were you thinking, shooting an arrow at the raft?”

“Going off the waterfall seemed like a bad idea. I wanted to rescue them.”

The boy huffed. “Are you trying to be some kind of hero? Is that why you’re poking around the upper level?”

“I’m no hero,” Jason assured him. “I just want to get home.”

“Want to get to Harthenham, I’ll bet.”

“What’s that?”

Hermie folded his arms. “Come on, you’re really going to pretend you don’t know.”

“I really have no clue.”

The cell phone died.

“There went your light,” Hermie said.

“That was all the juice in the battery. Do you know how to get into the upper level?”

Hermie snorted. “I’m smart enough to stay away. I just help clean up around here and run errands. Here is that book you wanted.” He held out a thin book bound in creamy leather entitled
The Life I Have Known and Other Stories
. “You’d have to be a little thick to miss the clue.”

Jason accepted the book. “Thanks. Why not save me time and show me the hint?”

He held up both hands. “I’m not a part of this. The dog can help you get around. Anyhow, thanks for not mentioning how we met before. I could get in trouble. I’ll keep quiet about you shooting folks with arrows.”

“Fair enough.”

Hermie picked up his candle and went to the door. “Get some sleep.” He slipped out without waiting for a reply.

Jason was left in darkness.

He had hoped Hermie might help him. It would be nice to have a friend. But the boy had only seemed concerned with making sure Jason would keep their previous encounter confidential.

Jason reclined on his cot. This would be his second consecutive night in an alternate reality. Thanks to the loremaster, at least he now had reason to believe others had crossed over from his world to this one. That gave him a little hope that somewhere, somebody might know how he could get back. With luck the answer might be nearby, waiting behind the forbidden door.

Back home his parents would have called the hospitals and notified the police by now. He might even be on the news! They would probably search for him all over the zoo—the last place he’d been seen. He wondered if any evidence would implicate the hippo.

CHAPTER
3
THE WORD

J
ason awoke the next morning in darkness. Rolling over, he saw a line of flickering light at the base of the door. He fumbled out of bed, splashed his face with water, ran his fingers through his hair, grabbed the book, and left the room. A guttering lamp in the hallway accounted for the unsteady illumination.

The big white dog lay outside the door. It rose and guided him to breakfast.

“Good day to you,” greeted the loremaster.

“Good morning.”

“I see Hermie brought you
The Life I Have Known
. Help yourself to some food. I’m off to man the front desk.”

“What’s the dog called?” Jason asked.

“Feraclestinius Androbrelium Pathershin the Seventh.”

“No, I meant his entire name.”

“To abbreviate, I call him Feracles. Come by if you need anything.”

The loremaster left. Jason drank a hot black beverage, which didn’t smell much like coffee. At first the drink was unbearably bitter, but sweetened with plenty of sugar it became palatable.
Messy pieces of dripping fruit and a small bowl of really crunchy nuts completed the meal.

After wiping his hands on a napkin, Jason picked up the book. As with the volume from the day before, it was attributed to Author Unknown. He opened to the table of contents and found the titles of various short stories. Some stood out more than others. Apart from “The Life I Have Known,” he noticed “Conversations with an Osprey,” “Mysteries of the Deep,” and “Last Wishes of a Bumblebee.”