Chapter 20

chapter twenty FLEEGHAVEN READIES FOR A FIGHT! pillaging the prop truck Yos. These props are basically real good thing my arms grow back, placing the needle, Puzz squeak, squeak. NEAT-O FUZZ SMELLS like toilets and regrets. So do you Ernie

Training in combat. First step. Second step, attack again. Third step. Turn me bones of your enemy into bracelets of friendship. Whatso retreat. "Love it when a plan comes together," Dirk says.

Dirk and Kimmy are walking briskly through the town, observing the hurried, last-minute preparation. Galamelon follows, carrying four armfuls of poster board, scrawling NEAT-O BUZZ on each one. The rain falls in buckets. "It won't be long now..." Kimmy says, tugging her ears down for warmth. Suddenly— WHACK! "Ow! What hit me?" Dirk says, rubbing the back of his head. Looking down, he spots Quint's conjuring book, lying on the ground. "Huh," Dirk says, picking up the book. He glances around—and spots the open door to one of the many Hero Quest production trucks. Dirk thinks for a moment, then says, "I'll catch you two later." "Hey, bud, whatcha doing in here?" Dirk asks, stepping up into the truck. Glancing around, he sees tripods, lighting equipment, and spools of heavy-duty cable. Quint sits at a workbench, quietly building—but he turns at the sound of Dirk's voice.

Welcome to the Gaffer Department, where a film's electricians create movie magic. Pretty neat, huh? Of course, I don't mean magic, literally I-will Never use that word in a literal way again, Dude, you're just gonna get rid of this. Quint simply shrugs, then spins back to the workbench. His cane is disassembled. The battery pack has been removed. And on the floor, Dirk spots a trap-sorta-thing, though how it works isn't clear. But he does spy something that looks like an old-timey prospector's dynamite blaster. "Dude," Dirk says. "You threw away your book. You're taking apart your cane. What's going on?" "You were right all along," Quint says, as he finishes connecting a long cord to the plunger.

"Conjuring is bad news—and that book is, too." "So... what, you're giving up?" Dirk asks. "No, I'm doing the thing I know how to do best: using old movie equipment to build a trap that will snare the Drakkor so we can slay it." Dirk raises his eyebrows. "That's the thing you know how to do best?" "Not exactly that, of course. But building gadgets, using science and technology, turning a heap of junk into an evil-monster-slaying device—that's a thing I know how to do." Quint doesn't add "unlike conjuring," but he doesn't have to—Dirk knows that's what he means. Dirk thinks for a moment, then sighs. "OK, fine, but... this book was a gift! You can't get rid of a gift. Even if it's a pair of lousy mittens, you still gotta wait a few weeks to toss 'em. If ya don't, it's just rude." "If the gift doesn't fit and was clearly given to the wrong person—then you can get rid of it," Quint says. "And that's what I'm doing." Dirk sets the book on the workbench and pushes it forward until it's touching Quint's hand. "If you wanna quit this, I won't try and stop you. This conjuring stuff is big—probably too big for anyone. You know what my dad used to say to me? I told Jack this once—when I was feeling lower than low. My

dad used to say, 'Dirk, if you don't try, you can't fail." "Well, that is not very good fatherly advice," Quint says. "Sure ain't," Dirk says. "But I'm saying it now— just so you know—you did try, and you did not fail. I know you don't see it—but you were making progress." Quint stares at the book, then lowers his head. "I can't believe I trusted Galamelon," he says softly. "And the worst part—I knew he wasn't one hundred percent legit. I didn't know he was a total phony, but I could tell he was, y'know, off." "OK, phew," Dirk says." 'Cause if you couldn't— I woulda been worried." "Of course I could. But I was just so desperate to fix my gigantic mistake and not make any more gigantic mistakes. And as a result—I only made things worse. We wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for me."