“Boo to the Bugaboos!”
“Death for the Bugs!”
“Drown the clowns!”
“No rest till the pests’ death!”
Sato didn’t think it was possible, but he felt even more uncomfortable. He held his hands up, palms out, trying to shush them. Finally, they quieted. And he started talking; where the words came from, he had no idea.
“I’m not the same person as your leader who was killed. It’s really hard to explain, but I’m from a different world—one that’s a lot like yours but . . . different. Maybe it’s not so hard to believe if you just look around at this weird place. But none of that matters. I know why you want me to be your Grand Minister. Everyone wants a leader, someone to look up to. But I don’t know if I could ever really be that person.”
A surge of complaints started to explode from the crowd, but Sato cut the noise off by swiping his hands back and forth. “Just listen to me! We all need something here, and I think we can help each other.”
“What’s that then?” the old woman asked, her right eyebrow cocked high. “What can we do for ya, lad?”
Sato was thinking on the fly, caught up in the moment. He was feeling it. “I know Mothball. I know her family. I know that the people of your world are fighters. You’re warriors. Am I right?”
A hearty shout of cheers rang through the air, fists pumping toward the endless gray sky of nothingness above. A surge of heat and electric energy filled Sato’s veins.
“The first thing we have to do is get out of this place. I have a very good friend who’s in a lot of trouble, and if he dies, we all might die. I need your help to go after him, to help him, save him. We also need to stop something that a very evil person named Mistress Jane is doing—the sickest, most horrific thing I’ve ever heard of. We’ll give you all the details soon enough—I think we have a little time yet. But if you do this—if you’ll help me and . . . fight for me—I’ll make a promise to each and every one of you.”
Sato paused, scanning the crowd, in awe at how every eye was trained on him. Complete silence settled across the strange place. Even Mothball and Rutger stood rigid, mouths slightly agape, probably wondering who’d possessed Sato’s body.
“If you’ll go with me,” Sato said, the rush of adrenaline inside sounding like an ocean’s roar in his ears, “and fight to help my friend and stop Jane, then I promise to go back to your world with you and lead the war against the Bugs. The endgame of all endgames. We won’t stop until we wipe them from existence. All of them! We will fight. And I swear, we will win!”
The roar that filled that impossible place made Sato want to take a step backward and cover his ears. He did neither.
He stood tall and yelled right along with the warriors from the Fifth Reality.
Chapter 37
Shivers
The sounds of the night-darkened forest were starting to get to Tick as he and his friends slowly made their way eastward.
Besides the normal buzz of insects going about their business, a wind had picked up, something that seemed impossible based on how many trees crowded their pathway. Limbs and branches swayed and scratched against each other; leaves rustled; small animals jumped and ran through the bushy ground cover. Eerie mating calls moaned through the air, and every once in a while a cat-like thing screamed far in the distance. It all added up to give Tick a major case of the shivers.
He’d tried his best to show a brave face when telling the others about how the Haunce wanted them to be caught by the Sleeks. It had seemed a practical matter—the best way they could get into the Factory and possibly face-to-face with Jane. And the others had reluctantly agreed to the plan after wasting five minutes arguing about it. Master George had proven to be the voice of reason that cut through the obvious hesitancy to do something so scary.
But now, trampling their way through the spooky woods, his flashlight beam stabbing the darkness ahead, getting closer and closer to something that was created by and for evil, Tick felt a different kind of fear than he’d ever experienced before. A thick terror sprinkled his skin with chills and surged in his throat, like a balloon had been shoved down there. With every crick and crash of broken twigs and crushed leaves as his companions and he walked forward, he had to fight the urge to look around, searching for an enemy he knew was coming for him.
Instead he forced himself to look ahead, to keep walking and dodging his way through the tightly packed trees until the attack came. He held onto the fact that they wouldn’t have to fight or run this time—they just had to give up and be taken prisoner.
“Tick,” came a soft whisper from behind him. Sofia. “Have you seen or heard anything weird yet?”
Tick turned to look at her quickly before facing forward again, not missing a step. “We don’t really need to whisper,” he called out, louder than he needed to. “It kind of defeats the purpose of what we’re doing. And no, I haven’t really noticed anything too weird yet.”
“Nothing too weird?” Paul repeated. “Some demon cat is being eaten by Satan out in the woods, screaming its fool head off. I’d call that weird.”
Tick had to suppress a snicker, a fleeting break from the fear that had been suffocating him. “It’s probably just a deer or something that broke a leg.”
“A deer? Never heard anything sound like that on Bambi.”
Master George spoke up. “My guess would be that we’re getting quite close to the area where these guardian creatures roam and hunt. Based on what I’ve learned from Mothball’s, er, reports.”
George cleared his throat in an embarrassed sort of way, and Tick’s suspicions shot up enough to make him stop walking. He turned to face him. “You just said ‘er’ and cleared your throat. What aren’t you telling us?”
Paul and Sofia stopped as well and faced Master George. Tick held the flashlight so that the beam pointed at the ground, but the glow was enough to show a tight look of worry on the man’s face.
“Really should keep walking, don’t you think?” he said, trying to smile but somehow making himself look even more uneasy. He feebly pointed toward the direction they were heading.
“What’s wrong?” Sofia asked.
“Yeah,” Paul added. “You look constipated all of a sudden.”
Master George folded his hands together—they’d been twitching slightly at his sides. “Our Realitant spies have recently been providing Mothball with information on the Factory.”