The Great Brain Robbery, page 8
“A delivery satchel!” she cried, feeling a wonderful swirl of pride and excitement as she secured the strap over her shoulder. “Thank you!”
“You’re very welcome,” he said, blushing with pride. “Let me show you how to use it.”
“No need,” she said. “There are two compartments inside. One for mail to be delivered, and one for collections.” She unfastened the buckle and lifted the flap to demonstrate. “Plus, there’s a lockable secret pocket inside the lining, for the secure storage of valuables.”
“That’s right,” said Wilmot, looking at her with renewed pride. “I can see my copy of The Knowledge has been useful.”
“So useful!” said Suzy. She finally had someone to talk to about her months of careful study, and it all came spilling out. “I’ve read the whole book three times through, cover to cover. I filled a spare exercise book with review notes. I’ve even given myself tests.”
“I used to do that!” he said, grinning. “Let’s try one now. Where will we find the mail for Cloud Forge? The zip code starts with CF.”
Suzy closed her eyes and searched her memory. “In the regulation layout of a sorting carriage,” she recited, “zip codes are arranged in alphabetical order, clockwise, when viewed from the Postmaster’s desk.” She opened her eyes and looked around the carriage with new understanding. “So if I stand here…” She waded through the mail to stand behind Wilmot’s desk. “Any zip code starting with C should be on…” She looked around again. “… that set of shelves over there.”
“Excellent work,” said Wilmot.
After a brief search, during which she dislodged another avalanche of mail, she found what she was looking for.
“Got some!” she said, holding aloft a small bundle of envelopes. “And they’re nearly all addressed to Cloudwrights.”
“Excellent work,” said Wilmot. “Let’s just hope that one of them is the person we’re looking for.”
He was interrupted by a shudder that ran through the carriage and made its old boards groan. Suzy felt her stomach trying to crawl up her throat as more letters rained down around them.
“Another earthquake!” she cried.
But the tremor died away as quickly as it had started, and Stonker’s voice reached them from the cab.
“Don’t worry, that was just the Belle clearing her throat,” he called. “It means we’re up to full steam. Everyone in position, please.”
“Come on,” said Wilmot. “I need to talk to Mr. Stonker before we leave.” They scrabbled back up the mounds of mail, through the door, and tumbled back into the cab just as Frederick reentered through the front.
“The track’s clear,” he announced. “And the signal just turned green.”
“Excellent,” said Stonker. “Kevin came through for us. Strap in, everyone. We’re off!”
“Wait!” said Wilmot.
Stonker paused with his hand on the controls. “What is it, Postmaster? We’re all ready to go.”
“But I’m not,” said Wilmot. “Because I’m not coming.”
They all stared at him in shock.
“What?” said Suzy. “But you have to!”
“I can’t.” His expression was apologetic, but his voice was firm. “Someone has to stay behind to operate the station’s dispatch controls, or the Express won’t be able to go anywhere.”
“Good grief!” said Stonker. “I hadn’t thought of that.” His brow furrowed. “We’ll just have to find someone else to operate them. We can’t leave you behind.”
“There isn’t time,” said Wilmot. “The line will only be open for a few minutes.”
“But what about me?” said Suzy. “I can’t do this without you.”
He smiled at her. “Actually, I think you can. You’ve come a long way in just two months, Suzy. I wouldn’t leave the Express if I didn’t think the mail was in good hands.”
Suzy blushed. She wanted to feel proud, but she mostly felt upset and disappointed. And very, very nervous. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
Stonker put his hand out. “It won’t be the same without you, Postmaster.”
“Thank you,” said Wilmot, shaking Stonker’s hand. He did the same with Frederick and accepted a bear hug from Ursel, before turning to Suzy. “You’ll do brilliantly,” he told her.
His calm assurance made her suck in a breath and stick her chest out. If he could be brave, so could she. “I’ll do my best to make you proud,” she said.
He smiled. “I already am,” he said, and slipped out through the front door.
“Grownf,” said Ursel.
“Yes, indeed,” said Stonker. “A fine lad. Just like his dad.” He brushed away what might have been the beginnings of a tear.
A moment later, there was a loud crackling sound from outside the cab. It was followed by a whine of feedback, as Platform 100’s PA system sprang into life.
“Hello?” Wilmot’s voice boomed through the speakers, loud and distorted. “It’s me again. I’m at the dispatch controls. Let me know when you’re ready to launch.”
“Better hold on to something, everyone,” said Stonker with a manic glint in his eye. “This is going to have quite a kick to it.”
Ursel spread her arms wide, and Suzy and Frederick ran to her, letting her enfold them both. Suzy had a clear view through the cab’s front window to the opening in the glass wall ahead. Moonlight glinted off the tracks of the viaduct that wound away across the rooftops outside. She gripped Ursel’s arm and tensed her body.
Stonker released the brake lever and opened the Belle’s whistle. The piercing shriek echoed around Grinding Halt.
“Good luck, all of you,” said Wilmot. Then the Express blasted forward, and Suzy was thrown back into the soft fur of Ursel’s chest. They were moving at an incredible speed—Suzy felt as though a gigantic hand were pressing her flat into Ursel, and the Overside raced past in a blur. Fear and excitement bubbled up in Suzy, and she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or scream. I really missed this, she thought. Within a minute, they had plunged into a tunnel, leaving Trollville behind.
Stonker clung to the controls, leaning against the g-forces like a man walking into a gale. “It’s nice to be back in business!” he cried over the scream of the wheels. “Next stop, Cloud Forge!”
Suzy smiled back. Beneath her excitement, though, she was still in shock at Wilmot’s decision to stay behind. She felt vulnerable without him by her side, and she began to worry that all her studying wouldn’t be enough to help her.
But no. She had proved herself this far, and Wilmot was trusting her to do the job. This was no time for insecurities. Not when everyone in Trollville was depending on her.
7
PLAN B
The worst of the flooding had receded by the time Wilmot returned to the rest home. The nurses still bustled back and forth, but now carried suitcases bursting at the seams with clothes and piled them by the front door. Fletch stood in a puddle in the middle of the lobby, drying inside his ears with an old rag. His eyes widened at the sight of Wilmot.
“What’re you doin’ back?” he said. “Yer aunt Dorothy said you were leavin’ on the Express.”
“The others did,” said Wilmot. “I came back to help.”
Fletch grunted. “Yer mom’s already got everythin’ organized. The best thing you and I can do is keep out of the way. We’ll be headin’ for the hills soon.”
“But what about the rest of the city?” he asked. “We’ve got to warn them!”
“Yer aunt’s phonin’ everyone she can think of and tellin’ ’em to spread the word,” said Fletch. “But I don’t know how much good it’s goin’ to do. Some of the phone lines are still down, and I don’t reckon people are goin’ to be too keen to pack up and run in the middle of the night without someone official breathin’ down their necks about it.”
Wilmot regarded the growing pile of luggage by the door and felt his spirits sink. Fletch was right—even if Aunt Dorothy could persuade a few hundred trolls to leave the city, they would be abandoning more than a million others to their fate. Everything depended on Suzy and the crew finding the Cloudwright. But what if they couldn’t?
There has to be something else we can do, he thought. We need a plan B.
“Fletch,” he said. “The troll that Suzy met in the junkyard. Suzy forgot to mention it at the police station, but she told us his boots were covered in yellow dust. And he left those footprints behind. Do you remember?”
“What of it?” said Fletch. “He must have been steppin’ in all sorts of stuff in that scrapyard. We all were.”
“Yes, but none of us ended up with yellow dust on us,” Wilmot said. “Which means the troll must have picked it up before he went into the alleyways to look for his bit of pipe.”
Fletch considered this for a few seconds. “Sounds logical. But where?”
“I don’t know,” said Wilmot. “But if we can figure that out, we might get a clue about where he’d been before we met him.”
Understanding dawned in Fletch’s eyes. “And you reckon that’ll tell you how to find this cavern of theirs.”
“Maybe,” said Wilmot. “It’s worth a try, don’t you think? If we can find the cavern, and the drill, there might not be any need to evacuate Trollville at all. We can just send the police down to arrest everybody.”
Fletch puffed his cheeks out. “It’s not much to go on. How many places in Trollville are you going to find yellow dust?”
“I don’t know,” said Wilmot. “But I know some trolls who might.”
The carpet of the residents’ lounge was still soaking wet and squelched heavily underfoot as Wilmot and Fletch entered. The Old Guard were all here, dressed and in their outdoor coats, waiting for the word to leave. They brightened at the sight of Wilmot.
“Hello, Postmaster!”
“Quite a kerfuffle we’re having, isn’t it?”
“Are you all packed?”
Wilmot returned the greetings, then cleared his throat. “Do any of you know where I could find yellow dust anywhere near Trollville? Not like normal dust—it’s heavier, and it glitters.”
The Old Guard turned to one another. There was a lot of whispering and nodding.
“Like rock dust?” said Mr. Rumpo, a troll as shriveled and purple as a prune.
“Maybe,” said Wilmot. “Do you know where it comes from?”
Mr. Rumpo turned back to the others, and they went into a huddle. There was some more murmured conversation, and more nodding. At last, the Old Guard all turned to face him.
“It sounds like the stuff from the Hobb’s End mine,” said Mrs. Falgercarb. “Down on the southeast side.”
“The Hobb’s End mine?” said Wilmot. “I’ve never heard of it.”
There was a chorus of oohs and aahs from the Old Guard.
“It’s a very sorry tale,” said Mr. Trellis, stepping forward. “My mother used to sit me on her knee and tell it to me.” He cleared his throat, and the others gathered around him. “Years ago, when our grandparents were building Trollville, they dug a mine into the face of the Uncanny Valley. They mined all the best stone and used it to build the city we all know today.” He gestured with his cane at the room surrounding them. “But one day something went wrong. They dug too deep, there was some sort of disaster, and a whole tunnel fell in. A lot of good trolls were lost that day.” The Old Guard nodded in solemn agreement. “The survivors refused to go back. They claimed the whole mine was cursed. Some even said they’d tunneled into something weird and unnatural that was best left buried. So that’s what they did—they sealed off the mine, and Hobb’s End has been sitting there ever since. Abandoned.”
“We used to dare each other to knock on the gates of the old mine workings when we were children,” said Mr. Rumpo.
“I remember!” said Mrs. Falgercarb. “They used to say that if you knocked three times, the ghosts of the old miners would knock back.”
Wilmot repressed a slight shudder. “And what about the dust?”
“It blows out of the old mines sometimes,” said Mr. Trellis. “The houses down there used to be covered in it. That’s why nobody lives there anymore.”
Wilmot’s brain fizzed with all this new information. An abandoned mine on an abandoned street. A disaster deep underground. He exchanged a glance with Fletch.
“I hope you’re not thinkin’ what I think you’re thinkin’,” Fletch said.
Wilmot gave a small shrug. “It certainly sounds like it could be the place, don’t you think?”
“The place for what?” asked Mr. Trellis, shuffling over and pulling them both into a conspiratorial huddle. “What’s on your mind, Postmaster?”
“It’s nothing, really,” said Wilmot. He was conscious of the rest of the Old Guard clustering round, doing their best to eavesdrop. “But if I wanted to go and have a quick look at Hobb’s End, how would I get there from here?”
Fletch winced. “You can’t go lookin’ for it now. Your mom’ll go bonkers!”
“I’m just going to take a quick look for signs of anything suspicious,” said Wilmot. “I’ll come straight back. Mom will hardly know I’ve gone.”
Mr. Trellis smacked his lips and chuckled. “On the trail of those ne’er-do-wells who assaulted poor Suzy at the junkyard, I’ll be bound.” He gave Wilmot an exaggerated wink. “Did I ever tell you about the time I tracked down a gang of mail thieves in the custard pits of Splott?”
“Yes,” said Wilmot. “Lots of times. Now please, Mr. Trellis. I’m running out of time.”
Mr. Trellis winked again. “Just head to the most southeasterly corner of the Underside,” he said. “Where the city meets the rock face. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” said Wilmot. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Don’t fear, Postmaster. Fletch and I will cover for you.”
Fletch scowled. “I don’t like gettin’ on the wrong side of your mom,” he said.
“You won’t have to,” said Wilmot, backing toward the door. “Think of it as a scouting mission. What could go wrong?”
8
THE NAVIGATION ROOM
By the time the Express emerged from the tunnel, Suzy was already at the cab window, anxious to see what awaited her. Blazing sunlight streamed in, forcing her to shield her eyes, and it was a moment before she could blink away the glare and look out. And down.
The Express was racing along a railway line cut into the side of a narrow mountain ravine. Its steep sides were clad in dense tropical foliage and fell away to a ribbon of surging white water below.
Bladelike peaks of dark gray rock pierced the jungle beyond that, all of them draped in thick emerald-green rain forest. Wisps of cloud clung to their tips, waterfalls spilled down their sides, and rainbows arced from one peak to the other like ghostly bridges. It was beautiful.
It was also sweltering, and a thick muggy heat began to squeeze its way into the cab from outside. The sun had clearly been up for hours here.
Suzy still wasn’t entirely sure how time worked in the Union—each Impossible Place seemed to keep different hours, so it could be early morning in one while it was late afternoon in another—which was why she had made sure to bring her watch from home. No matter what time it was in Trollville, or Cloud Forge, or anywhere else, her watch kept ticking away the seconds at the same steady pace, so she could tell exactly how much time had passed at home. Right now, it told her it was almost midnight there, and she felt a little thrill of excitement. She was never normally up so late. She pictured her street: the rows of identical houses with their darkened windows, a hundred sleeping souls waiting for their alarm clocks to start a new day of work, school, and routine. And here she was, riding with her friends into a magical land, half a reality away, under the light of a different sun. It was hard not to feel a touch of satisfaction at the thought, despite her nagging worries. She was supposed to be at school in the morning, and her parents had work. What would happen if she didn’t make it back in time? It seemed a silly thing to worry about when the fate of a whole city was at stake, but Suzy had never deliberately missed school before. It felt strange.
She wished she had Wilmot there to talk to.
“We’ve not made bad time for our opening run,” said Stonker, checking his pocket watch. “The old girl’s still warming up. She’ll only get faster.” He gave Ursel a congratulatory clap on the shoulder.
“Grunk.” She clapped him back, almost knocking him over.
“Hey!” Frederick had joined Suzy at the window and was pointing at the sky. “Look at that!”
Suzy looked and saw a single large cloud hanging in the sky above one of the nearby peaks. Even from this distance, she could tell that it wasn’t a normal cloud—it boiled and seethed, releasing forks of lightning in all directions. And deep inside it, silhouetted by the lightning, something moved. Suzy couldn’t make it out, but it looked large, and alive.
“Oh, wow!” said Frederick. “Is that what I think it is?”
“I have no idea,” said Suzy.
“Have you got any binoculars in that satchel?” He was hopping from foot to foot with excitement now.
“Of course not,” she said.
Ursel loped past with another pawful of bananas. “Grrurl hrrrrnf,” she said, and gestured toward the ceiling with her snout.
“Good point,” said Stonker. “Why don’t you pop upstairs to the navigation room and take a quick look?”
“We have a navigation room?” said Suzy.
Stonker smiled. “It’s new.” He pointed to a narrow wooden door in the corner beside the sink. “Straight up the stairs and the first door on your left. But don’t be long—we’re almost there.”
“Come on!” Frederick had already taken off at a run, and Suzy hurried to keep up with him.
A narrow spiral staircase lay behind the door, and they clattered up it to a small landing, where they found another door marked with a compass symbol. Frederick threw it open and tumbled inside, Suzy close at his heels.
