Chris Grabenstein - The Smoky Corridor

“Right,” he heard her say. “McNulty? It’s me! Your captain! I’m coming down.”

Malik waited another minute. Then he started breathing again. He stepped forward. Azalea was gone but Malik couldn’t tell which staircase she had chosen when she’d reached the split.

She’d called herself the captain.

Malik shone his flashlight on the wall of watches.

He remembered the final lines from the warning stone: Next stand watch like a sailor should and your prospects shall be very good .

“Stand watch like a sailor should.”

Clever. Even used the word “watch.” The old code was there to help him crack this new one.

It was definitely time to start thinking like a sailor again!

81

“Horace P. Pettimore wrote a secret message on the cornerstone of the school building!” Zack said to Ms. DuBois.

“Of course! Excellent!”

She was walking so fast Zack and Zipper had to trot to keep up.

“But,” said Zack, “Colonel Cooper didn’t tell me which corner.”

His string of lies to Ms. DuBois was all part of his plan to stall the history teacher until … well, until he came up with a better plan!

Fortunately, Pettimore Middle School had been added on to so many times it had a billion corners. It might take hours to find the corner of the foundation where the Masons had laid the ceremonial stone.

“So,” Zack said, “why don’t you and Eddie search the north and south sides of the building? Azalea and I can check out the east and west …”

And I’ll run downstairs to rescue Malik!

“No need for us to split up, Zack,” said Ms. DuBois. “I found the cornerstone my first day on the job. I had a hunch that since Captain Pettimore had been a Mason, he may have had his ‘brother Masons’ place a secret message there! This way!”

The wording on the cornerstone was brief and to the point:

MDCCCXCV

LAID BY THE MASONIC FRATERNITY

SO ALL MAY FIND THE KNOWLEDGE

WHICH THEY SEEK

“There you are!” Eddie came around the corner of the main building, tucking the long barrel of his pistol into his pants. “Sadly, I could not find Miss Torres.”

“No matter. We’ll deal with her later. Quickly, Mr. Jennings! Decode the inscription!”

“Well, uh … this might take a while.…”

“Nonsense. The ghost of Colonel Cooper told you precisely what to do!”

“Riiight. Okay. Well … uh … the trick is in the Roman numerals there.”

“Of course! MDCCCXCV! What does it mean?”

“Eighteen ninety-five.”

“We know that,” said Eddie. “What else?”

“Well … and this is what he told me … he said … um … each letter stands for a word …”

“Yes?” said Ms. DuBois eagerly.

“M … D … that could be ‘My Dog’ …”

Zipper barked.

“Or ‘Medical Doctor’ …”

“Didn’t Colonel Cooper tell you precisely what words the letters stood for?” demanded Ms. DuBois, who didn’t smell much like warm cinnamon rolls anymore. More like boiled cabbage.

“Yes, yes. He did. But you guys are screaming and hollering at me so much and you’ve got a pistol tucked into your pants so I’m kind of nervous and when I get nervous I forget stuff. Maybe we should go back to the graveyard and …”

Eddie raised his pistol. Cocked back the brass hammer. Pointed the slender steel barrel directly between Zack’s eyes.

“Would you like to start talking to ghosts the easy way, son?”

“No, sir.”

“Then tell us where to find the gold!”

Zack stared at the letters.

“Miles … Down … Connecticut … Country … Christmas …”

“There you guys are!”

Eddie quickly hid the pistol under his jacket.

It was Benny.

“We heard Zipper’s bark! Figured you guys were back here. What’s going on?”

Benny was with Andrew, Chuck, Alyssa, Harry, Jessie, Ryan, Amanda, Joseph Stockli, Laurel Jumper, Riley Mack, Marty Tappan, Rachel Curcio, Jenna Verrico, Sam Maroon—the whole gang from the cafeteria. Three dozen kids with bicycles swarmed around Zack, Ms. DuBois, and Eddie.

“Hey, you’re the new janitor!” said Benny. “Was that like a pretend Civil War pistol or a real one you were pointing at Zack?”

“I don’t have a pistol.…”

“It’s in your coat,” said Rachel Curcio.

“Can we see the gun?” somebody else asked.

“My goodness,” said Ms. DuBois, all sugar cookie-ish again, “whatever are all you children doing here at school on a Saturday?”

“We came to see what cool stuff Zack was getting into,” said Benny. “Is this like a Civil War reenactment or something?”

Eddie laughed. “That’s right.” He pulled out his pistol. “And this here is a reproduction of a Colt Pietta, a Confederate army revolver from the 1860s.…”

“Coool!” The kids crowded closer.

“Zack and Mr., uh, Eddie, and I were working on a skit for history class!” said Ms. DuBois.

“Neat!”

“Can we touch the pistol?”

“Does it really work?”

And while Zack’s three dozen friends swamped their two captors, Zack and Zipper backed away, ever so quietly, around the corner.

After that, they ran!

82

“Yes!”

Kurt Snertz saw Zack Jennings and his stupid little dog come running around the side of the school.

No teachers. No janitors. No friends.

They were dead meat.

Jennings yanked open a side door and darted into the building.

Snertz jumped up. He was going in after him.

He’d find a toilet and finally give Jennings that swirly.

But first he’d break a few of the geek’s bones.

And drop-kick his dog up the hall!

Yes!

83

“Flip theflue!” Seth Donnelly said to his zombie.

“Yes, master.”

His slave shoved the lever forward. A damper blocked one exhaust chimney and redirected the fumes to the second smokestack.

“Have him open the door!” shouted Joseph.

“Open the door to the smoke chamber!”

“Yes, master.” The zombie shuffled over to the door. Opened it.

The corridor beyond was filling with a curling gray cloud.

“By jingo,” cried Joseph. “It’ll work! Keep the fire raging but divert the smoke back up to the main stack! Hurry! Tell him. He only listens to you!”

So Seth passed on the next set of commands.

The zombie strode back to the furnace. Shoved some levers.

“And have him leave the door open on this end! Best to air out the corridor so the grown-ups we send in don’t suspect nothin’!”

“Joseph?”

“What, Seth?”

“I’m not your zombie. You can’t keep bossing me around, telling me what to tell him.”

“Who’s gonna stop me, boy-o? You?”

Seth thought about that for a second. Joseph had been telling him what to do for 110 years and sometimes Seth just wanted to tell his big brother to stick a plug in his piehole.

But Joseph was all the family Seth had ever known. Their father had died before Seth was born; his mother while giving birth to him. He so longed to be set free from this place, this school, to be reunited up in heaven with the parents he’d never met.

But he wouldn’t leave without Joe. Joe had looked out for him for 110 years. And Joe wouldn’t leave until somebody paid for what Mr. Cooper had done.

“Leave the door open!” Seth barked at the zombie. “Let the room air out. We’re gonna snag us a grown-up today!”

“We sure are, little brother. Why, I figure we might even trap us a pretty little teacher named Daphne DuBois, who just happens to be related to Mr. Patrick J. Cooper himself!”