Chapter 2

chapter two "Oooh..." Quint groans. His head is buzzing, like a bunch of hornets are throwing a party inside his skull. Dirk wipes his stinging eyes. "Smells like burnt Eggos." As the purple mist begins to thin, Dirk stares, slack-jawed. It takes a moment, but the sight before him is unmistakable: the Bone Howler, sprawled on the floor, sliced cleanly in two. Quint, you did it. You like magic? Sliced the howler in half. That's right. Your bisected bonehead. My buddy quaint is a real deal wizard, and I'll be taking this. Dirk says, wrenching his blade from the ground. But as he does, he realizes the ground is no longer the cracked concrete of the mall parking lot. It's different Dirk glances at Drooler, perched on his shoulder and sees something like concern on the little Monster's face. You okay, champ?

Drooler meeps nervously. And with the fog now clear, Dirk sees why— There is no mall. No parking lot, no garage, no caravan of carapaces. Dirk's glee evaporates. "Hey, Quint. Uh. Where are we?" "What do you mean?" Quint manages. He's on the ground, like his knees have given out. He looks a bit like Yursl did after she blasted the Howler off the Mallusk. Then Quint's eyes pop open and his legs go rigid as fear forces him to his feet. "Oh no. The conjuration... went wrong. I didn't perform it properly, and I think I... Well..." "What?" Dirk asks. "I think I, um, teleported us..." "Teleported..." Dirk says. "Is that why I felt like I was getting turned inside-out a minute ago?" Quint presses a hand to his stomach, like he's trying to force himself not to barf. "Yursl warned me about this! She specifically said, The wrong mixture of science and spell, and your entire molecular structure could be displaced—transported to another location." Dirk presses a finger into his palm. "I don't check in on my molecules that often, but they all seem to be accounted for."

The duo takes in their new surroundings. They're in a castle hall with a vaulted, triangular ceiling. Long, colorful carpets cover the floors, and tapestries drape the stone walls. Nearby, a turkey leg the size of a bowling pin sits on a silver platter. It looks fresh— glistening and golden. "Buddy, I don't know how to tell you this," Dirk says, "but I think you did more than transport us to another place. I think you transported us all the way..."

BACK IN TIME The conjurer's cane drops from Quint's trembling hands, and he makes no move to pick it up. It now feels like something cursed, something not fit for human use. "The consequences of this..." Quint says softly. "One mistake, and we could shatter the space-time continuum. Like Back to the Future!" Dirk stares blankly for a second, then his face lights up like a neon sign. "Oh! I get that reference!

Yeah, you guys watched that movie a ton during our tree house days. Not my favorite, but I always paid attention when that cool hero guy, Biff Tannen, was on-screen." "Biff Tannen is the bad guy," Quint says. "The bully." "No, I don't think that's right," Dirk says, shaking his head. "No one with a four-letter first name and a six-letter last name could ever be a bully." Quint groans. "But hey—maybe your awful magic did something good!" Dirk exclaims, as he begins to excitedly pace the room. "Remember Biff Tannen's big plan to save the day? We should do that! First thing: we find a sports almanac!" Quint shakes his head. "Dirk, it's the apocalypse. Money no longer means anything. Remember Jack and June's million-dollar hats..."

"Also," Quint adds, "Biff Tannen's actual scheme was to retrieve a sports almanac from the future, in order to—" "Get rich!" Dirk exclaims. "We are gonna get so rich! It's simple. We find an old sports almanac, the older the better, like ancient. And when we get back to our regular time—which we will, 'cause you're Quint and you'll figure it out—we bring the sports almanac with us. When the world returns to something like normal, we'll be gazillionaires! I