Chapter 5

chapter five NINETEEN MINUTES LATER... I raided the wardrobe truck, new helmet, double helmets. This one fits right on top of my everyday zombie chatterblocking helmet. Dirk proudly taps his newly acquired armor. "See, this helmet is cooler looking than my everyday helmet." "I built your everyday helmet!" Quint exclaims. "Exactly," Dirk says, grinning.

"Wait, Quint, I almost forgot!" Dirk suddenly says. "If we're going questing, we need epic gear. So I snagged something for you, too..." And then, with a sudden whoosh, Dirk reveals— wizard. He-cloak. You dig it, right? Yeah, you do. Quint eyes the velvety fabric and plastic gems sewn into the collar. He wants to wear it—it's the actual one from Hero Quest! But... "No," Quint says quietly. "I can't wear that. Even if it's only a costume, I haven't earned it." Dirk frowns. "Dude, are you—"

HONK! HONK! Dirk's interrupted by Kimmy, in the Jeep, laying on the horn. "Guys! Over here! Can you see me? I'm the one in the Jeep, honking! Oh good. You're looking at me. Let's goooooo!" "I will happily saddle up," Quint says, climbing up into the carapace. He needs to dive into the book, ASAP—and reading while walking inevitably ends with walking into a stop sign. "Then I'll be hoofin' it," Dirk says. "Wanna stay as far away from Quint's conjuring as possible." Quint glances back. All of Fleeghaven has gathered to watch their departure. He sees monsters sitting on storefront porches, leaning over rooftops, and perched on wooden barrels. And on their faces—faint glimmers of hope. This entire town has placed their faith in us. In me, Quint thinks. I really hope they're not all making a horrible mistake.

Der, you ready for some fun? Oh, then let's hit it. Commencing, hitting it onward, Carol. And with that, this odd band of humans and monsters sets off, traveling down Fleeghaven's long main street, then out into the strange, wild wasteland beyond. Their hero quest has begun... MANY MINUTES LATER...

funky book. There's a spell on there that's going to slay the Drakkor. That's the idea. Something like that. Yes, Nito books are the best. amtrlte? As Quint flips the pages, he begins to feel nervous again. The book is jammed full of diagrams and drawings, but he can't read the instructions alongside them. Learning how to become a conjurer with this book is not gonna be easy, Quint thinks. It's like trying to assemble a Lego Death Star when I only have the instructions for a Lego microwave. "What's a Lego microwave?" Kimmy asks. Quint glances up, confused. "How did you—?"

"Do I need to get 'brain poker' tattooed on my forehead?" Kimmy asks. "Ooh, I should!" Quint feels frustration mounting—and the increasingly loud yowling from the Wrangler's stereo isn't helping. "Uh, Kimmy!" he calls, straining to be heard. "The music?" "That's Pete!!" she shouts back. "He's a star, dude. The tunes are actually the sound of food moving through his digestive tract!" Quint's about to ask who Pete is and why he sounds like talons on a chalkboard, but then he sees: the Wrangler has no actual stereo. Instead, a tiny cricket-looking monster sits on the dash, wearing a bottle cap as a hat. A headphone cord is plugged into his belly. "Might it be at all possible to lower, uh... Pete?" Quint asks. "This volume doesn't quite lend itself to studying." Kimmy's ears twirl slowly, like she's rolling her eyes. "You guys are such olds." Dirk glances up. "Olds? How old are you?" "Only four hundred nineteen," Kimmy says. "Which is roughly sixteen in human years." "Well, ha," Dirk says. "We're still younger." "You don't seem younger," Kimmy says. Still, she gives Quint the break that he requested. "Pete, take five."