Part 32 (1/2)

”No, sweetie,” I said softly. ”They're just afraid of us. They've never seen such huge, ugly . . . creatures before, and they want to check us out.”

I was rewarded with a tiny smile. ”We're ugly to them. Right.”

It took Iggy three minutes, which was a personal record for him, breaking the old four-and-a-half-minute record required by the three locks on my closet.

Iggy, Fang, and I gripped the edge of the door with our fingernails and pulled-there was no doork.n.o.b. Slowly, slowly, the immensely heavy door creaked open.

Revealing a long, dark, endless staircase ahead of us. Going down. Of course.

”Yeah, this this is what we needed,” Fang muttered. ”A staircase going down to the Dark Place.” is what we needed,” Fang muttered. ”A staircase going down to the Dark Place.”

Iggy blew out his breath, less than thrilled. ”You first, Max.”

I put my foot on the first step.

You're on your own now, Max, said my Voice. said my Voice. See you later. See you later.

124.

My headache was back, worse than before. ”Let's keep it moving,” I called over my shoulder.

Unlike the sewer, there wasn't even far-off light on the stairs, so it was pitch black. Fortunately, we could all see pretty well in the dark. Especially Iggy.

The steps seemed endless, and there was no handrail. I guess whoever built this wasn't too concerned with safety. safety.

”Do you know what you're doing?” Fang asked softly.

”We're approaching our destination,” I said, descending into the darkness. ”We're homing in on the answers we've dreamed about getting our whole lives.”

”We're doing what your Voice has told us to do,” he said.

I was wary. ”Yeah? The Voice has been okay so far, right?”

There was a bottom at last. ”Here we are,” I said, my heart pounding.

”There's a wall in front of you,” said Iggy.

I reached out in the blackness, and a few feet away, my outstretched fingers touched a wall, then a door, then a doork.n.o.b. ”Door,” I said. ”Might need you, Iggy.”

I turned the k.n.o.b, just to see, and lo and behold-the door began to open.

We were all silent. The door swung all the way open without a sound, and a gentle wash of fresh, cool air wafted over us. After the fetid, dank stench of the sewers, it was amazing.

Feeling like Alice in Wonderland falling down the rabbit hole, I stepped forward, my filthy shoes sinking into thick carpet. Yes, carpet.

Dim lights showed me another door, and, almost shrieking with tension, I opened it.

This all suddenly seemed horribly easy, suspiciously easy, scarily easy.

We went through this second door, then stopped and stared.

We were in a lab, a lab just like the one back at the School, thousands of miles away in California.

”We're in the Inst.i.tute,” I said.

”Uhm, is that a good good thing?” asked Gazzy. thing?” asked Gazzy.

125.

”Holy [insert a swear word of your choice here],” Fang said, stunned.

”No kidding,” I said. There were banks of computers taller than me. And tables with first-cla.s.s lab equipment. Dry-erase boards covered with diagrams-many of which I'd seen during my brain attacks. Things were in ”sleep” mode, quietly humming but not working-it wasn't yet dawn.

We wove our way among the tables, trying to take it all in while quaking in our boots. I knew there were Erasers in this building-I could feel them.

Then I saw one computer still on, its screen bright, data being processed as we watched. This could be it-our chance to find out about our past, our parents, the whole amazing enchilada.

”Okay, guys,” I said quietly. ”Fan out, stay on guard, watch my back. I mean it! I'm going to try to hack in.” I climbed on the lab stool in front of the counter and grabbed the computer mouse.

Pa.s.sword?

I cracked my knuckles, making Fang wince. Well, it could only be about a hundred million different things, I thought. How hard could it be?

I started typing.

I won't bore you with the whole list of what was rejected. I was thankful that the system didn't lock me out after three bad tries. But ”School,” ”Batchelder,” ”Mother,” ”Eraser,” ”Flock,” and a whole lot of others didn't cut it.

”This is pointless,” I said, my nerves frayed.

”What's wrong, Max?” Nudge asked softly, coming to stand close to me.

”Who am I kidding?” I said. ”There's no way for me to crack the pa.s.sword. We've come all this way for nothing. nothing. I'm such a loser! I can't stand it!” I'm such a loser! I can't stand it!”

Nudge leaned closer and touched the monitor with a finger, angling it so she could see better. She read the screen, her lips moving silently. I wanted to push her away, but I didn't want to be pointlessly mean.

Nudge closed her eyes.

”Nudge?” I asked.

Her hand fanned out on the monitor, as if pressing closer for warmth.

”h.e.l.lo?” I said. ”What are you doing?”

”Um, try big x, x, little little j, j, little little n, n, big big p, p, the number seven, big the number seven, big o, o, big big h, h, little little j, j, and the number four,” she said in a whisper. and the number four,” she said in a whisper.