The Journal of Curious Letters (The 13th Reality #1) (37 page)

Frazier told her about Annika.

~

It truly did happen in the blink of an eye, a quick tingle shooting down Tick’s spine.

The instant Master George pushed the button on top of the Barrier Wand, the room of the Realitant headquarters vanished, replaced by thousands of massive trees covered in moss. Tick and the other recruits, along with Mothball, stood in a dark forest, hazy sunlight barely breaking through the thick canopy of branches to make small patches of gold on the earthy floor. The haunted sounds of exotic birds and insects filled the creepy woods, smells of roots and rotting leaves wafting through the air. Tick had the uneasy feeling that the forest wanted to eat him alive.

“Where are we?” Paul asked, though he must’ve known the answer.

“In the Thirteenth, we are. Deep in the Forest of Plague,” Mothball whispered.

“Forest of
Plague
?” Sofia asked with a snort. “Lovely.”

“A great battle was fought ’ere,” Mothball said, slowly turning as she scanned the ancient trees, most of which were thick enough to make an entire house. Gnarled, twisted branches reached out as if trying to escape their masters. “Many moons ago, it was. Thousands died, their rottin’ bodies creating a plague that was downright nasty. So I’ve ’eard, anyway. Must be true, seeing as there’s quite a bit of Chi’karda here. Come on, follow me.”

“Wait,” Sato said, trying to sound stern but coming across as a grumpy jerk. “Tell us the plan before we take a step.”

Tick rolled his eyes, but quickly so Sato couldn’t see him do it.
Things are scary enough,
he thought.
Why does this guy have to make it worse?

“The plan’s quite simple, really,” Mothball said, not acting bothered at all. “Right over yonder”—she pointed toward an ivy-covered copse of pine trees—“there’s some right dandy Windbikes that we can take to meet Master George’s spy, Annika. She’s been settin’ things up for months to get close to the Barrier Wand. We meet Annika, we get the Wand, we come back ’ere in thirty hours, and home we go.”

“Sounds too easy,” Sato said with a comical sneer.

“Sure it is, old chap, sure it is.” Mothball turned and walked toward the pine trees. “Got a better idea, let me know. But best be right quick about it.”

As Tick and the others followed their eight-foot-tall guide, Sato said from behind, “How do we know we can trust this spy? Maybe she works for Mistress Jane.”

“Find out soon enough, we will,” Mothball replied, not slowing at all.

“Quit your whining and come on,” Sofia snapped.

Tick cringed, wishing his friend would ease up on the poor kid. Tick didn’t like him either, but Sofia seemed way too harsh—who knew what Sato might do to retaliate.

Begrudgingly, Sato finally started walking. The sounds of footfalls crunching the thick undergrowth of the forest suddenly filled the air, echoing off the canopy of interwoven tree limbs.

Tick moved to catch up with Mothball, practically running to keep up with her pace. “I have a question.”

“Go on and ask it, then.” Mothball pushed an enormous branch out of the way that everyone else simply walked
under.

“The alternate versions of ourselves in other worlds—does that mean there is one of me in every Reality?”

“That’s usually the case, it is. We call ’em Alterants. Strange how all that works—even though the Realities can grow in vastly different ways from each other, there seems to be a definite pattern when it comes to the
people.
”

“What do you mean?” Tick asked, stooping to avoid a huge chunk of moss that drooped over a thick limb like a giant beard.

“Even though a Reality may have different governments and cultures and climates and all that from another Reality, the general pedigree of people remains quite similar—downright spooky, it is.” A huge bird cawed from overhead, followed by the squeal of a small animal.

“So in your Reality—the . . .”

“The Fifth, it is.”

“Yeah, the Fifth. There’s a really tall version of me there? My Alterant? And he’s alive right now, with parents named Edgar and Lorena?”

“Chances are ya be right. Course, I’ve never met ’em, and never tried. Dangerous stuff, messin’ with Alterants.”

Sofia and Paul had been following closely and listening to every word while Sato hung back, only a couple of steps behind them. Though he acted indifferent to the conversation, Tick had a feeling Sato was intently paying attention.

“Why is it dangerous to mess with Alterants?” Sofia asked.

“Since I had dealings with Tick in Reality Prime,” Mothball said, pausing a second to reassess her bearings. She changed directions slightly and headed down a shallow ravine scattered with boulders among the trees. “I didn’t want to meet his Alterant in any of the other Realities. Not only could it make me go mad, it could lead to the little sir meetin’ his taller self in my Reality. Disaster, that.”

“Why?” Paul asked.

“If two Alterants meet and truly recognize each other for what and who they are, well, then only one of the poor blokes can survive. Still trying to figure out the why and how, we are, but one of them ceases to exist. Sometimes that causes a nasty chain reaction that can rattle the Realities to their bones. Bet yer best buttons some of the worst earthquakes and such you’ve had were because of Alterants seein’ each other. Master George and the Realitants have worked their buns off to avoid such meetings, but Mistress Jane likes to bring Alterants together. She thinks it’s funny. Mad, she is. Crazy as a brain-dead Bugaboo soldier.”

That was the second time Tick had heard Mothball refer to Bugaboo soldiers, but he was too busy thinking about Alterants to ask any more questions.

“Whoa, man,” Paul said. “This is some downright freaky stuff. You’re telling me there’s all these Pauls running around the universe? I better be a big-time surfer in one of them. And a world-class pianist in another.”

“Face it,” Sofia said with a smirk. “You’re a no-talent bum in all of them, just like you are here. Or, there. Or, whatever.”

Paul stuck out his tongue. “Sis, you’re hilarious.”

“Call me ‘sis’ again,” Sofia challenged, raising her fist.

“Sis.”

Sofia pulled back and punched Paul solidly on his upper arm with a loud thump.

“Ow!” he yelled, rubbing the spot. “That’s no fair. I can’t punch a
girl
back.”

Tick laughed, and Mothball surprised everyone when she did, too.

“Glad my pain can give everyone a nice chuckle,” Paul said, still wincing. “Tick, a word of advice. Don’t mess with Italians.”

“I learned that just from her e-mails. Whatever you do, don’t rip on her spaghetti.”

“Tick,” Sofia said. “I like you. You’re smart . . . for an American.”

Sato completely ignored all of them, never breaking his stoic expression.

Before anyone could throw out another sarcastic remark, Mothball stopped next to a big pile of fallen branches and twigs. She turned toward the messy heap and took a deep breath. “’Ere we are.” She bent over and yanked on a large branch, pulling it off the stack. “A little ’elp would be nice.”

Tick grabbed a branch and everyone joined in, even Sato, who was mumbling something Tick couldn’t understand.

Tick saw a glimmer of metal when he pulled off a prickly branch, his curiosity increasing his pace. Soon, they’d cleared the entire pile, and all of them stared at what they’d uncovered.

Three sleek and shiny motorcycles were lined up in a row, silver with sparkly metallic red paint. They were the coolest things Tick had ever seen, but there was one thing about them that seemed a little odd.

None of them had wheels.

~

They’re called Windbikes,” Mothball said, gesturing with a wide sweep of her arm. “Quite fun, they are.” Everything about the strange vehicles looked exactly like a normal bullet bike you’d see zooming down the freeway: a small windshield, silvery handlebars, shiny body with a big black leather seat. But the machine ended in a flat bottom instead of two round wheels.

“I hate to break it to you,” Paul said, “but somebody, uh, stole the
tires.
”

Mothball laughed, a booming roar that bounced off the overhanging branches. “You’re a funny little man, you are, Paul.”

“Are you telling us these things . . . fly?” Sofia asked.

“Well, I’d hope so, what with them not having wheels and all. Come on,” she said while pulling the bike on the end away from the rest, pushing it across the ground. “There’s three. One for me, and two for you kiddies to share. Methinks you’ll be better off if ya go in pairs.”

“Not me,” Sato said. “I go alone.”

“You’ll go in a pair,” Mothball said. “Or you’ll sit ’ere and hug this tree all day.” She stared down at Sato, daring him to argue. He said nothing in reply.

It was the first time Tick had seen Mothball use her size to intimidate someone.
I have a feeling this lady is a lot tougher than she acts.

“Sweet biscuits!” Paul said as he grabbed hold of the next Windbike and dragged it a few feet away. “You’re serious? This thing really
flies?
In the air?”

“Where else would it fly, Einstein?” Sofia said. “Underground?”

“You got me there, Miss Italy,” Paul said, seeming to have grown accustomed to Sofia’s smart mouth. “How does it work?”

Mothball sat down on her bike, her body taking up the entire seat that was meant for two. “You push this ’ere button, which turns it on, like so.” She pressed a red button on the small dashboard under the handlebars. The Windbike came to life, humming like a big computer and not like a normal motorcycle at all. “Doesn’t use gasoline. Takes hydrogen right out of the moisture in the air, it does, burns it right nicely. Come on, get on, now!”

“Who’s going with who?” Tick asked.

“I’ll go with you or Paul,” Sofia said. “But not
him.
” She nodded toward Sato, who scowled back at her.

“I don’t want to go with you, either.”

“Alrighty then,” Paul said, clapping his hands. “Looks like it’s me and Sofia on this one, Tick and Sato on that one.” He pointed to the next bike in line.

Tick wanted to argue, but he didn’t really want Sato any angrier than he already was. He looked to Sofia for help, but she only shrugged, not bothering to hide the smirk on her face. “Uh, great, okay.”

Paul moved toward his bike and sat down right behind the handlebars, but Sofia would have none of it.

“I’m driving, tough guy,” she said, pushing him backward as she squirmed her way in front of him.

Paul held his hands up in surrender as he scooted to the rear of the big seat. “You win, Miss Italy, you win.” He looked over at Tick and mouthed the words,
“Help me.”

Sato pulled the last Windbike upright and pushed the button to turn it on as he swung his leg over and sat down in the driver’s position. “Get on,” he said, not bothering to look at Tick.

Tick felt like he’d rather pound his head against the closest tree than get on the back of the humming machine. He hated how the mean kid from Japan was ruining everything.

Mothball must have noticed Tick’s hesitation. “Come, now. Time’s a wastin’, it is.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Tick sighed as he sat behind Sato. The bottom edge of the Windbike had a railing with sticky pads for his feet. “Is this another invention from the Fourth Reality? Wait, let me guess—Chu Industries?”

“Nailed that one, you did,” Mothball answered. “Chu rules a monopoly in the Fourth, he does—practically owns everything. Smuggled these bikes in a few months ago, we did, figuring they’d do right nicely for our little mission.”

“What do we do now?” Sofia asked.

“Watch me very closely,” Mothball said. She gripped the handlebars, then gently
lifted,
surprising everyone when the metal connecting her handgrips to the bike bent upward. As she did so, her Windbike rose several feet into the air with a slight surge in its humming sound; the top of her head almost bumped into a low-hanging branch.

“Cool!” Paul shouted.

Tick couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Your hands control everything,” Mothball said from above. “Push forward, go forward. The farther you push, the faster you go. Pull back and you slow down or stop, depending how hard ya do it. And ya go up or down by lifting and dropping the handgrips. Easy as breathin’, it is.”

Tick yelped and grabbed Sato’s shirt as their bike suddenly leaped into the air and backward, then lurched forward and came to a sudden stop. A second later it shot forward again and flew around the closest tree, coming to a halt right above Sofia and Paul.

“It works,” Sato said in a deadpan voice.

At the same time, all of them laughed. Even Sato broke into a smile for the first time since they’d met, looking back at Tick just as it turned back into a frown.

Tick had the strange feeling that maybe he was glad Sato had taken the pilot’s seat after all, since he seemed to already have the hang of it.
I probably would’ve slammed us into the ground already, breaking all of our legs.