Chapter 13

chapter thirteen I manage to unpack Quint's human hamster ball, despite his obscenely long list of deployment instructions. When I finally reach the last step, I pull the tag, and— I roll the ball He wasn't kidding. I roll the ball toward the overhang, then step back as it topples over the side. Soon, the pulley whines, the rope goes taut, and my friends are on the move.

My jacket is torn and shredded where the Cosmic Hand went all bubble protector. I retrieve a roll of duct tape from my backpack and loop it around my sleeve to keep the horror hidden. I finish just as my friends reach the top, arriving in something like a see-through New Year's Eve ball. Dirk doesn't seem to have enjoyed the trip... Get me out of this torture chamber. No, can we go again? Quint secures the hamster ball to the landing, unzips the bubble, and my friends step out onto not- totally-solid ground.

"Nice climbing," June starts to say, before losing her balance, staggering toward the mouth of the tunnel. And then—all together—we step inside. "We have just entered our first other-dimensional fortress," Quint says, looking around in awe. Tubules of fluid rush behind the walls—and the tunnel radiates a ghostly, icy blue. "The construction is fascinating." Sure, I think. Fascinating if you're into architecture that feels like it might close in and squash you at any moment. Quint flips open the Maparatus. The screen glows a startling white. "I should be able to locate the Directarium once we're out of this tunnel and into the fortress proper." "Then," Dirk says, "let's enter the fortress proper." I'm about to ask if "entering the fortress proper" means we're supposed to walk like fancy butlers or something, but I decide this isn't really the moment. Almost like we've infiltrated other-dimensional fortresses before, we fall into place. Dirk, in his role as the Muscle, takes the lead. The ceiling is thick with glistening lengths of something like rope. It pulses like a python swallowing hamsters...

We're probably the first humans to ever step foot in this place, and we're going to be the last. Let's do what we came here to do "Anyone else feel like they're being watched?" June asks nervously. I know what June means. It's like walking through some haunted house, when you know there's something awful waiting around each corner but you don't know what. So you're stuck forever bracing yourself for some big scary SURPRISE. But no matter how horrifying the haunted house is, you can usually get through it by doing one of two things: shutting your eyes the instant anything pops

out, or telling yourself "None of this is real," over and over. The problem here, though, is if I shut my eyes I'm liable to stumble over the uneven ground and bust a kneecap. And no amount of convincing can get me to believe this isn't all very real. "Watch your feet," Dirk says, turning a corner. He holds Drooler out at arm's length, his Ultra-Slime- soaked body glowing like a lantern. "This place is lovely," I say, stepping over a puckery hole in the floor that's vomiting up a puddle of... well, let's just call it a puddle and leave it at that.

"SCREECH!" The fist-sized daddy-longlegs-tick monster crackles, sounding like a broken speaker as it scuttles into the distance. We're nearly to the end of the tunnel when Dirk suddenly holds up a hand. "You guys hear that?" A surge of wind erupts behind us, funneling cold air through the tunnel. I hear a noise at our backs— like something softly swirling over the puddles.