Hot Air Balloon (by Owl City)
"I'll be out of my mind, and you'll be out of ideas pretty soon. So let's spend the afternoon in a cold hot air balloon . . ."
There were lots of things you shouldn't do. Like holding an umbrella in a lightning storm, or touching a hot stove, or hitting a mad scientist with a baseball bat to keep said scientist from killing one of your favorite characters. The list goes on. And in that list, Owen was pretty sure it included that you shouldn't, above all, go to the villain for guidance. Ever.
But what were they doing? Going to the villain for guidance. As much as Owen wanted to argue more, he didn't exactly have any more points to give. Bethany was right — neither of them had the slightest clue of how to fix the worlds. Similar concepts had happened in books, where worlds were out of place and needed fixing. But the way to fix things had always been automatic. Simple. Usually because magic was involved, and with the wave of a wand everything was normal again. Here, he doubted there was anything that easy to fix the worlds.
So left with no better ideas, Owen agreed to Bethany's idea. Only because he knew that even if he didn't, she'd probably go behind his back and do it anyway. No matter how often he told her that that wasn't how friendship worked. Apparently, that's how their friendship worked. Annoying, but something he'd gotten used to. So even though this idea made him really uncomfortable, he wasn't about to let her talk to Nobody alone.
After hearing the news about Nobody, they'd left the police station, skirting around the street until it was out of sight. The same place where, no doubt, their moms would be pulling up any moment now. Only when they got there they'd discover that their kids weren't there, because they were trying to find the villain that'd tried to kill them. Definitely not the best thing for a mom to hear.
A cold chill sank into Owen's skin as they walked down the street, wearing less layers than they should be in the twenty-something degree weather. Sometime in the time they'd left the police station, Owen had found his phone buried in the pocket of his backpack. He'd forgotten all about it, thinking it'd been lost somewhere in the fictional world. A totally likely idea, given everything they'd gone through in the past few days.
It wasn't like his phone worked in the fictional world, though, so he hadn't even bothered using it. Now, it was useful for something. There was only one jail in town, a few miles away from the police station. And since Owen and Bethany had no idea where it was, using his GPS proved to be the next best idea. He liked to think of it as the location spell of the real world . . . except way more average and boring. But still, it was helpful for getting them where they needed to go.
"Okay!" Owen said, holding his phone out in front of him. "So here we . . . turn onto Oak road."
Bethany gave him a confused look. "Uh, which road?"
"What do you mean? We just follow the-" Owen looked up, and he saw what she meant. "Oh."
The road was otherwise fine, just a few sinkholes and scratches here or there. The more noticeable thing was the street sign, which had toppled over and crashed onto the sidewalk, looking bent out of shape. Down the block, some of the streetlights had fallen over or been completely destroyed, or both. While the GPS still told them the names of the roads, this might be harder when they couldn't tell what some of the streets were called.
Owen bent down to look at the fallen street sign. Even the letters appeared to be scratched out, barely readable. "Well . . . I think it says Oak on here."
Bethany shrugged. "I guess. I just hope the GPS is right, or else we might never get to jail."
Stepping over the fallen street sign, they turned the corner, speed-walking down the frigid street. Owen shivered, holding his arms tighter around him. He might've at least been wearing a jacket, but that still wasn't enough to block out the chill coming from the air. Definitely not enough. If he could do magic, he probably could snap his fingers and be wearing a coat right now. After all this was over, maybe Kiel could teach him to do cool stuff like that.
Or given Owen's ability to backfire all of his spells? Maybe that'd take another ten years to learn. Still, it couldn't be that hard to learn, could it? Simple spells like that were what saved people from having to go back and grab a coat, which was a very nonfictional, normal thing to do. Kind of boring, if you asked Owen. But right now, it was easier to imagine being able magically zap on a coat, than actually facing reality, which was that it was absolutely freezing outside and if they didn't get there fast, he'd end up as an icicle on the pavement.
He glanced at Bethany, a little relieved when he saw she was shivering as much as he was. At least it wasn't like she had a coat and he didn't, which would be kind of mean. Not that either of them had time — or even a house — to get coats from. He found himself wishing she still had her shape-shifting powers. Maybe she could turn into a car — a car with heat-warmers on the seats. Now that would be awesome. And of course, it was inconveniently not an option.
After a few minutes of not talking, only listening to the sound of each other's shuddering breaths, Owen broke the silence. Maybe the cold would be easier to deal with if they talked the whole time. "Hey, isn't it ironic that all we've wanted to do was get away from Nobody, and now we're going directly to him?"
"Hey, I don't want to," Bethany told him. "We have to if we wanna get answers, and he's the only person that'll give us them."
"I know." He nodded. "Just thinking about all the ways this could go badly. For one, they might not even let us see him! Then we'd have to, what, break in?" He swallowed hard. "Please tell me we won't have to break in."
"Really not in the mood for jokes, Owen. If we come here and we never see him, that won't accomplish anything."
He'd heard that before. "We're going to break into jail, aren't we?"
"I guess, if it has to come to that."
"You guess—"
"Only if it comes to that!" she repeated, glaring at him.
Owen groaned. "I'm sorry, but if you think we might have to break into jail, I'm leaving."
"I'm thinking it."
Owen blinked, almost not expecting that answer. He stopped in his tracks, digging his heels against the sidewalk. "Fine! I'm leaving."
"Great," she said, without stopping. "Then go."
Did she not think he could really go through with it? Oh, he'd show her! He took a tiny step back. "I'm gone! I'm not kidding!"
"Sure you're not."
"I am. I'm already turning the corner, Bethany! Going back to the police station! I'll tell them all about what you're doing!"
"I know you're still there." Now a few feet away, Bethany stopped, whirling around to face him. She smirked. "Yep, knew it."
Owen sighed. So much for trying to teach her they shouldn't be breaking into jails, not when they were in the real world. He moved his feet forward, catching up to her. "Fine, I'm not leaving. But I really, really don't want to do this. There are real consequences here. Like our moms finding out we broke into a jail."
"It sounds bad when you put it like that. Seriously, I have a plan. And it won't involve us breaking in, not unless we have to."
"When can we just avoid doing illegal things?"
"When our friends and my dad are back," Bethany said, like it was obvious. She glanced at him. "Hey, it's not bad." Then for once, she seemed to consider it. "Okay, bad, but we have a reason for it. We have to do this!"
"You know this is gonna get us caught, right?"
She rolled her eyes. "Relax. I've already prepared us if something like that happens."
Of course she had.
Owen started to ask what she'd prepared them with, only to stop as his eyes caught on something. They were still walking along the same street, having nowhere to turn for another few blocks. With the state their town was in, he'd maybe only seen two or three cars driving down the road. All of them had just been police cars — only the ones they'd been in — which made it all the weirder to see a totally normal-looking car pulling onto the road they were walking on.
For some reason, Owen's stomach tightened at the sight of it. Not just because he hadn't seen any regular cars driving around. What was it doing here? He thought that with everything still destroyed, people weren't even allowed to come here until their town got fixed. Which granted, was something Owen and Bethany might just have to fix themselves, preferably with Kiel's magic when . . . if they got him back. No, it was when. Yeah. When.
At this point, the car was far enough away that Owen couldn't see who was inside. Not that he really needed to, but he couldn't shake the feeling how weird it was that a normal car was here. Maybe it wasn't as weird as he thought it was. Maybe townspeople were allowed to come here for special reasons. Special reasons like— suddenly, the thought went off in his head like a lightbulb. A half-terrifying, half-comforting thought, that should have no reason to be both at the same time.
It could be a long shot, though what were the chances that the people in that car wouldn't be who he thought they'd be? Any number of people could be in that car, though Owen only knew two people who had a reason to come here. His and Bethany's moms! He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of this sooner. Here they were, about to do something that both their mothers would definitely not approve of. Owen had known they were going to the police station, but he hadn't anticipated they could run into each other on the way!
And being the only two people in sight, there was no way they'd miss Owen and Bethany. If it really was their moms in that car, they'd be facing them a lot quicker than him or Bethany had hoped. Something that might be scarier than facing Nobody was the scariness that came with his (probably) infuriated mother. Especially after this was Owen's second time running away for several days, and this had actually been his choice! In other words, if they got caught, he'd be grounded all over again. Maybe for longer this time.
Now he knew why Bethany was so afraid of getting caught by her mother. She had other things going on that'd be affected, like being able to find her father or save the fictional worlds. Owen really didn't think her mom wouldn't let her look for her dad, since they loved each other and everything, but he kind of got where she was coming from. His own mom might have trouble letting him go save the fictional worlds after everything that'd happened.
Saving the worlds was about to get a little more impossible if they got caught by their moms first. Or maybe a lot more, depending on how mad his mom was. And he didn't want to find out.
"Um, Bethany?"
"Yeah?"
As subtly as he could, Owen pointed the car out to her. "I think our moms might in there."
"What? Get down!" Bethany's eyes widened, and she immediently yanked Owen to the ground, hard enough to knock the air out of him. They were right behind a large bush, among several of the ones that lined the sidewalk. Though, with it being light out, he didn't think that it'd do much to cover them.
"Oh, yeah," Owen wheezed. "There's no way they'll see us here."
"Shut up." Her eyes were on the car. "My mom's gonna hear you."
"How? She won't hear me from inside the car!" he said a little too loudly, without meaning to. She shushed him. Owen sighed. Fair enough.
The sound of tires rolling across the ground grew louder, a sign that the car was quickly coming towards them. Maybe even was passing them at this moment. Slowly, Bethany lifted her head to see over the bushes. Owen stayed down, knowing that if he lifted his own head, he might accidentally fall over the bush or trip over his shoelaces somehow, and then they'd be discovered. And worse, Bethany was totally going to blame him for it. From experience, stealth and Owen didn't always mesh well together.
He sat there and waited, heartbeat roaring in his ears. It felt like the world was at a standstill as the car got closer and closer. Any second now, they'd spot them and before him or Bethany could move, the car would already be pulled into the curbside, doors springing open as their moms rushed out. But all he heard was a whoosh as the car rolled by, passing much quicker than Owen expected it to. That was when it kicked in for him. The car hadn't stopped. Hiding behind the bush had actually worked.
Just to check, Owen forced himself to his knees, rising to Bethany's level. Instantly, he let out a huge sigh of relief. The car was down the road. It hadn't stopped once, so either their moms weren't in the car, or their hiding spot had been a good one. Whew. No angry mothers to face. No grounding. No extra problems. Of course, they'd have to face their moms eventually but he felt a lot more relieved that that wasn't now. Now, as he was finding out, really wasn't the best time for extra things to worry about.
Bethany shot him a smile, as if daring him to argue. "See? The bush worked."
"Just barely!"
Ignoring him, she glanced back over the top of the bush. "Okay, we're clear. Let's go."
She rose to her feet, and Owen did the same, glancing back at the car. A sudden wave of guilt hit him for feeling the need to hide from his own mother. In an ideal world, he could tell her all about his adventures and she'd be accepting of it. She kind of had been, back when he'd told her the truth about Bethany and the fictional worlds. She had been cooler about it than Bethany's mom had been, that was for sure.
He liked to believe that when all this was over, she'd even go on adventures with them, so she could be inside the stories she loved so much. Maybe she'd take Owen to go on vacations in Magisteria, since they'd never actually gone on vacation before. Maybe he could say things like "Bye, Mom! Going on a trip to Hogsmeade, I'll be back before dinner!" and then she'd say something along the lines of "Make sure to bring me back some butterbeer!" Now that sounded nice.
Owen was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Bethany at first, who he just realized had been saying something. He blinked at her. "What?"
She stared at him. "I said, can you bring up your GPS?"
"Oh! Yeah, sorry. Wasn't listening."
Fingers shaking from the cold, Owen got out his phone again. His hope deflated a little as he saw the time it said they'd get there. Still thirty minutes. Granted, they hadn't walked that far from the police station, but far enough that it should've been closer. They were about to get there a lot slower than he'd hoped, especially given how his entire body had frozen up. He wouldn't be surprised if icicles started forming on his arms.
They began walking again, Bethany striding a foot ahead of Owen, leaving him rushing faster to keep up. They weaved through streets, passing empty buildings everywhere they went. It was a little spooky being somewhere when everyone had vanished, especially when Owen was used to seeing people in his town. On the bright side, there were no fictional monsters to deal with. That definitely would have delayed their trip.
He must've not been watching where he was going, because as they turned onto the next street, he immediately tripped over something, face-planting right on top of the sidewalk. A scream erupted from his mouth — something he quickly became embarrassed of as he realized what he'd tripped on. Used to his antics at this point, Bethany chuckled as she passed over him, pulling him by the arms and helping him up.
"No stopping!"
"Hey, it wasn't my fault I tripped—" Owen started to say, only to stop as his eyes fell on two objects he'd tripped over.
Bikes. They laid in a heap on the sidewalk, as if they'd been abandoned. He wasn't sure what part of this was more surprising, that they were just laying here, or that they hadn't been somehow damaged in the fictional invasion. Okay, that wasn't true. They did look a little beat up, though not enough that it caused any noticeable harm. Just then, an idea blossomed in his head. Wait, this was perfect! It wasn't like they had a magic carpet or a shapeshifting car, so what better way to get to the jail faster than to ride bikes?
At the sight of the bikes, Owen glanced at Bethany to see if she'd noticed. She had. Looking at him, she said, "I know you said you don't want to do anything illegal, but this is more borrowing than stealing—"
"You wanna take these?"
She gave him a surprised look. "What happened to you? I thought you'd be against stealing."
"Not stealing," Owen said, while inwardly cringing, hoping he was right. "Just borrowing, like you said. Whoever owned these probably ditched them once the monsters got here. It's fine if we take them. And also, I'm just really, really cold."
Bethany let out a shuddering breath. "Yeah, same here. The jail is a lot further away than I thought!"
He coughed. "Oh, really?"
"I thought we could walk there, Owen!" she said, annoyance creeping into her voice. "Sorry if I don't know how far away our town's jail is. I've never actually been there."
"Well, I haven't either, so that makes two of us." He smiled. "And I'm calling dibs on the blue one!"
Despite her slight annoyance, she gave him a wide grin back. "Fine."
A few minutes later, the trip was going much quicker than before. Both of their bikes had baskets, which made it easier for Owen to prop up his phone to see which way to turn. It was a good thing he was short, or else the bike he was riding in would've been really uncomfortable. It already kind of was, since he felt like his legs were being squished as he rode it. Obviously, this was a bike meant for a kid, maybe twelve years old at the most.
Not that he'd grown that much taller since he'd been twelve, but tall enough that he found himself hoping they'd get there faster. As for Bethany, her bike had been taller than his, and she'd needed to shorten the seat to fit her height. That . . . was one of the reasons she'd picked the yellow bike over his blue one. Owen had a feeling that both of them were uncomfortable, but it would've been worse if their bikes had been switched.
"What now?" Bethany yelled to him, her bike twisting slightly in his direction.
"Turn left on the next street!" Owen shouted back.
They were in the middle of the road, doing their best to avoid the fallen objects that lay scattered around it. It felt similar to navigating through an obstacle course, except the obstacles were fallen street lights, or stop signs, or even dents in the road. If there were actual cars on the road, it'd be a very different story, probably ending with them both getting into crashes. Any other day, he'd never be able to do this. Honestly, it felt kind of fun. Terrifying, but fun.
Before he knew it, the jail had risen up to greet them. It sat on top of a hill, outlined in faded red bricks. The only part out of any of it that he'd expected was the tall, barbed-wire fence that circled the prison. He wasn't sure what else he'd expected to see. Maybe dark clouds hovering above it, with prisoners staring at him from their barred windows as ominous music played from a speaker above. That wasn't the case, though, because while it was a cloudy day, there were no prisoners or scary music in sight.
Kind of disappointing, but maybe that was a sign that he watched too many movies. And that the only jails he'd ever been in had been fictional, so the stakes had seemed much more dramatic there than here, which just looked like an old building with the word "prison" embedded at the front. Kind of boring, but this was Illinois. The real world. At least there weren't any dinosaurs he had to fight or mysteries he had to solve to get here. If anything, he was relieved it looked so normal. If it looked anything like the Jules Verne Memorial Time Prison, he might've never wanted to go inside.
Pedaling up to the entrance of the jail, they hopped off their bikes and abandoned them on the sidewalk. They hovered beside the fence, not going inside yet. Owen rubbed his hands together. Somewhere in the time they'd been bike-riding and the time they'd got here, his palms had turned sweaty. It wasn't just going to a jail that was making him nervous — it was also the idea of seeing Nobody again. Her anxiety surrounding this was different, indescribable. Even behind bars, even with a face, Nobody still terrified Owen. A lot.
"So, what's your plan for how we're getting in there?" Owen asked, turning to his redheaded best friend. "Please tell me you have a normal, nonfictional way of doing this."
"I do," she said simply, without bothering to elaborate. Owen wanted some elaborating before he was forced into doing this. Way more elaborating, if he was being specific.
"What is it?" he pushed. "Disguising ourselves? Using magic?" He paused, crinkling his eyebrows. "Hey! Why didn't we use magic to poof us over here?"
"Because people might see us!" Bethany said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And then we'd be all over the news, and we'd be drawling attention to ourselves. That's why."
"Okay . . . but not if we used a teleportation spell."
She sighed. "And that still wouldn't be good if someone saw us appear in thin air."
"Kiel did it all the time when he was here!" Owen protested. In his defense, that was true. Kiel had used magic a lot during his stay in the real world. Yes, he was careful about it, making sure no one saw, but why couldn't they? Why couldn't Bethany, who felt the urge to pull things out of books left and right? Wasn't she concerned someone would see her do that?
Stopping in front of the doors, he threw a hesitant look back at Bethany. She gave him a waving motion with her hand, like she was urging him to move forward. He held back a groan. Yep, this was so not going to work. And why wasn't she doing this, when she was the one who wanted to see Nobody in the first place? In almost every situation, she always seemed to send Owen in as the distraction. It only confirmed, even more, that he was the sidekick. Sidekicks were always used as the distraction.
Owen reached up, placing a hand on the handle of the door and pulling it open. Warm air rushed over him — the one thing he looked forward to about going inside the prison. He'd expected it to be cold on the inside, with shivers going down his spine at every second. Despite the warm weather in the prehistoric era, the time prison had always given him that feeling. But this way around, he wasn't actually getting thrown in jail. He was just going as close as anyone possibly could to getting thrown in jail, and that was maybe worse.
No, he'd be fine. Oh, who was he kidding? This was such a bad idea. Maybe not getting-thrown-into-jail kind of bad, but still bad.
As he closed the door behind him, a voice rang out from the other side of the room. "Can I help you?"
Already feeling on edge, Owen jumped at the noise. Then he swiveled around, turning to look at a woman sitting at the front desk. Oh. Having only been in one prison before, he hadn't actually considered there'd be anything as normal as a front desk. Similarly to the police station, the front desk was more like a counter, separated behind a glass barrier. Everything in the room was gray, from the walls to the chairs to even the doors. As he shuffled forward, the air seemed to grow colder.
"Yeah." Reaching the front desk, Owen fiddled nervously with his cast. "I just, um, was wondering if I'd be able to talk to one of the prisoners. Really quickly. I just had some — some questions to ask him. His name is Nobody."
The woman glanced back at her computer, eyes scanning over the screen. She typed something in on the keyboard before nodding, looking back at him. "Yes, it says here he was placed into custody about an hour ago. Unfortunately, we aren't allowing visitations with the prisoner right now. You would not be able to contact him in person for at least another month, until we finalize how long he will be staying and what the crimes against him are."
"A month?!" Owen shouted. "How long does it take to figure out what his crimes are?"
"Two to three days."
"But I kind of need to talk to him now, if that's possible. I swear, it'd be quick. Just a few minutes."
"Sorry, it's against our protocol. Besides, you'd need to come in here with your parents." She tilted her head, and he noticed her hand moving for her phone. Uh-oh. "Are they with you?"
Eyeing the phone, he swallowed hard. "Y-Yeah. They drove me here."
He couldn't tell if she believed him. "Oh, I see. Well, if you want to visit a prisoner, you have to fill out this form first and mail it to us." She swiveled around in her chair, grabbing what must've been a form from a neatly-packed stack of papers. She handed it to him. "After you fill it out, look up our visiting hours and plan which day you're coming. Since you're young, you'll also need to bring a school issued photo ID or birth certificate."
Owen opened and closed his mouth, until finally, he forced a smile at the woman. "Thanks. I'll do that next time."
He walked back to the door, shaking his head. Really? Did this really have to be so complicated? He hated to admit it, but maybe Bethany was right about doing this the fictional way. There was no way they could do this the nonfictional way now, not when they wouldn't be able to get information from Nobody for a month. Or longer, depending on how this worked. He'd hoped that at least they'd be allowed to ask him a few questions, but even that wasn't possible.
Unless they had a time machine that'd take them to the exact time they could visit Nobody, they were toast. And although Owen really hadn't wanted to visit Nobody in the first place, he knew Bethany wouldn't let this go. One way or another, they'd have to talk to him. Owen just wasn't liking the way this was turning out, because any idea of Bethany's would probably be borderline illegal. It was like breaking into Murray Chase's house all over again, because before he even asked, he knew exactly what Bethany was about to drag him into. And unfortunately, he was right.
"Ugh," Bethany grumbled, after Owen had told her the news. She glanced around them, as if making sure that no one was around. Then, she pulled the blank sheet of paper out of her pocket, digging her hand inside. "We'll have to do this the hard way, then."
Owen frowned. "I only did that to keep us from getting into huge trouble, Bethany. Mission accomplished, so we should just count ourselves lucky that the lady at the front desk wasn't suspicious of me!" He tilted his head. "And I still think she might've been."
Owen watched Bethany with anticipation, feeling slight surprise when she pulled Kiel's spell book out, which had shrunk to a tiny size. As she propped it up against the fence, however, the spell book expanded, returning to its normal, gigantic size. Owen stared at it, waiting for it to move it's pages. The spell book always automatically turned to whatever spell the person needed the most, though weirdly, it hadn't done that right away. Not fully noticing yet though, he turned to Bethany.
"So you're fine with doing magic here?" Owen continued, crossing his arms. "Right out in the open?"
She threw him a look. "No one's going to see us when we cast it."
"Why not?"
To Owen's annoyance, Bethany turned her attention back to the spell book, squatting down to be at it's level. His eyes grew wider as he realized something. Wait a minute. The pages hadn't moved! Not like they usually did. Bethany seemed to have noticed, too. Furrowing her brows in confusion, she lightly grazed her hands against the spell book. But they didn't glow, as they always did when magic coursed through them. The pages still weren't moving, and neither was the book itself. It was like it was trying to disguise itself as a regular, nonmagical book.
Or like . . . like the magic wasn't working anymore.
Owen gasped. "Bethany, I think something's wrong with the book!"
"Yeah, I can see that," she muttered. "Why won't it move? It wasn't doing this last time we were using it."
"Last time we used it, we were in the fictional world. That's why." His mind was racing, a blur of thoughts all merging to make sense of it all. "I think it's lost it's magic!"
"What?" Suddenly seeming to get what he was saying, Bethany lunged for the book. She was already clawing at the cover, grunting under its weight as she turned it to the next page. "No, that can't be right. There's no way the magic would just be gone. Kiel used magic all the time when he was here, and it worked!"
"But that was different—"
"No, it wasn't! It's . . ." She finally flipped the front cover over, and both of them gasped. Owen's body felt suddenly ten degrees colder, and not just because of the chill in the air. The first page was blank. And so were the other thousands of pages. All the spells, any evidence of magic, and most importantly the one reminder they'd left had of Kiel — it was all gone.
If the spell book wasn't working anymore . . . what did that mean for Kiel's world? What did that mean for Kiel specifically? And Charm? Was this just a side effect of the worlds being apart, that fictional objects weren't working in the real world? Or was this something bigger, more terrifying, like the Kiel Gnomenfoot books being rewritten out of existence? The very thought made Owen want to throw up. Of anything this could mean, the Kiel Gnomenfoot books just being gone forever was maybe the worst conclusion he could possibly come to.
They stared at the book in silence, shock written across their faces. Owen knew without saying that both of them were thinking the same thing, but if he voiced it then maybe he would throw up. He just sat there, watching Bethany whirl through the pages, despite them all being blank. Still, she kept going, making an annoyed sound every time the next one was blank. After a few minutes of doing this and getting nowhere, she gave up, shaking her head in disbelief.
Finally, Owen cleared his throat. "Um, I guess we can't use magic?"
"You think?" She prodded one of the pages with her knuckles. "What's wrong with this thing? I don't get it."
"I don't know." He shook his head. "I have some theories, though."
She held a hand up. "If they involve Kiel's world being erased, don't wanna hear them."
Owen nodded. "Good point. I don't want to hear that either!" He sighed. "Yeah . . . I was thinking of that, actually. But I was also thinking that maybe, since the worlds are separated that means anything fictional just won't work here."
"What about Nobody? He's fictional and he's fine."
He hadn't thought of that. ". . . Oh. Then maybe not."
Great, now this was starting to feel like a mystery. A mystery that couldn't be solved until they went back to Kiel's world, if that was even possible. If it wasn't, maybe magic not working was linked to that. But if it was . . . ugh, this just didn't make any sense! The more he thought about it, the more confusing it became. Okay, Kara's time bracelet had still worked when he'd used it. Of course, it'd broken in half and burst into flames the second it was off of Nobody's wrist, so that wasn't exactly helping his case here.
But there was still Nobody to think of. He was fully fictional, so if fictional objects weren't working, shouldn't he, like Bethany said, not work either? That was entirely possible, but they'd been separated from the fictional world for at least two or three hours. If Nobody was supposed to stop existing because he was separated from the fictional world, he wouldn't done so by now. Mentally, Owen crossed that theory off his list. It looked like this would have to be a huge mystery, after all.
"Okay, um, I guess we can't use magic. Whatever. That doesn't mean our theories are right."
"Right!" he said, a little too quickly. He didn't fully believe that their theories were wrong, but for all he knew, they could be. "It doesn't. Fan theories I see on the internet are usually wrong, anyway. It's probably something like that."
"Not helping!"
Oops. That probably wasn't relevant here. "Sorry. I just hate how much of a mystery this is turning out to be."
"This isn't a mystery!"
"Yes, it is! We don't know why Kiel's spell book won't work, and we can't link that to Nobody, because he's fine. This is pretty much exactly like a mystery, and it shouldn't be."
"Oh come on, it's not like Fowen's behind the scenes trying to steal your life or something."
"Yeah, but that was the whole point of the mystery! I didn't know that was going to happen, just like we don't know what's going on now."
She shook her head. "We'll figure it out."
"So, what are we gonna do with this?"
He pointed at the spell book, which if anything, looked like a gigantic journal. Or a sketchbook. Or anything with hundreds of blank pages inside. Even though it was basically useless now, the thought of not keeping it made him feel a little bad. Magic or no, it was better than leaving it in the nonfictional world, where anyone could pick it up and mistake it for a drawing book. And if anyone was drawing in this book, it was Kiel. And Owen, because if the pages stayed magic-less forever, it might actually work as a nice comic book.
No, Owen, focus. As cool as that sounded, the book was ten times cooler as a spell book. And even if it never got it's spells back, he'd feel bad if it got damaged or ruined. Even more reason to keep it safe until it got returned to it's owner. He'd always thought it'd be cool to create his own comic book, though it'd have to start on regular notebooks, just like every other comic he'd started and never finished.
Bethany must've been thinking much of the same thing (aside from the drawing in it part), because she said, "Well, we can't leave it here. I guess I'll just keep it. Just in case." Looking disappointed, she placed her hand on the spell book, pushing it back into the page. Then, still looking at the page, her eyes lit up. "Wait a minute, I think I know something we could use to get us in there."
"Please just tell me it's legal."
She only smiled.
Bethany stood in front of the jail's entrance, heart pounding so loud she swore Owen could hear it. As much as Owen had complained about illegal this and illegal that, she had a pretty good feeling that his newfound enthusiasm was a sign that he approved with her plan. Of course, that wasn't to say it'd work, but it'd get them inside faster than magic would've. No appointments to schedule, and no criminal charges to worry about.
That was the thing about invisibility — it really did come in handy.
Before going to fight Nobody, Bethany had stuffed two heat-masking invisibility suits from Alpha Predator into her page. She'd thought about using them in Jupiter City, but with how crowded it was there, it wouldn't be so easy to sneak past everyone. Not when she'd be bumping into people left and right. And of course, they couldn't exactly sneak past a security guard when he was blocking the entire doorway. Drawing the least amount of attention to themselves was the best and only option here, just to avoid raising questions.
When invisible, it was better not to bump into anyone. Better to give them less of a reason to suspect you were there, which was why invisibly suits were the perfect thing to use now. With just one person at the front desk and some guards to sneak past, they'd be able to get in and out without bumping into anyone and blowing their cover. The only thing she was worried about were the cameras, which would for sure get them caught, especially if they removed their suits. They'd figure out that part once they got to it, though.
For now, they just needed to get past the woman at the front desk. Maybe get rid of her and the guards altogether, to keep them from seeing them talk to Nobody. It was Owen who'd come up with the idea that they use their invisibility to their advantage, using the same tactic that hundreds of books and movies had used. Fear. According to Owen, pretending someplace was haunted was often the best tactic for getting rid of someone. In other words, it was a plan fit for a horror movie.
All they had to do was scare her and the guards, and they'd be gone long enough for Bethany and Owen to talk to Nobody. And when they were done, they'd erase all camera footage that proved they'd been there. That way, if the ghostbusters or whoever investigated ghosts showed up, the evidence would be gone. Despite what they were about to face, she was proud of Owen for thinking of that. It was her plan to begin with, but he'd made it better.
And if she knew anything about the horror genre, it was that no one ever wanted to be around the ghosts.
At a snail's pace, Bethany turned the knob of the door, pushing it open so slowly that she soon became impatient, wanting it to hurry up. But, since they were doing this for dramatic effect, it was better to have the door creak as much as possible. And so far, it was. Once the door was almost halfway open, Owen nodded to her. On his signal, she pushed on the door much harder before letting it go, sending it swinging open all the way, colliding against the wall. The noise echoed loudly across the room.
Through the suit's special goggles, Bethany saw the woman as the desk jump, visibly startled. She lifted her head from her computer, and for a moment the woman looked right through Bethany at the door behind her, which was eerie. Clearly confused, the woman scanned the room, probably trying to figure out who'd just walked inside. But no one else was there. To her, it must've looked like the door had swung open from the wind.
"Whoever did that, can you close the door?" the woman asked sternly. "I don't want the cold air getting inside."
Silence echoed back to her. As quietly as she could, Bethany began walking further into the room, motioning for Owen to do the same. She threw a grin back at him, which he returned. A minute in, and everything was going how she'd hoped it would. They headed to the wall, edging alongside of it to get closer to the front desk — and to avoid running into the woman if she came by. Which, if their plan worked out, she would soon.
At a certain point, Bethany stopped, only for Owen to slam right into her, almost tripping over his own feet. Her heart almost stopped beating, panic flooding her entire body like a tidal wave. Before he could fall, she managed to grab the strap of his backpack, yanking him upright again. "Thanks," he mouthed. She shot him a glare, putting a finger to her lips. What was the point of being invisible when her best friend could hardly watch his balance?
A door caught Bethany's eye, entirely made of metal. There was a thick lock around it the handle, locking it in place. It must've led to where all the prisoners were being held. Bethany thought they could've scared the woman enough that she wouldn't follow them, but they'd need to find a way inside first. No way were they getting in there without some kind of key.
"Hello?" the woman's voice rang out, and Bethany's attention snapped back to the front desk. "I don't want to ask this again. Who left the door open?"
She looked around again, then sighed, finally standing up from her desk. Bethany bit back a smile. Yes. She watched as the woman navigated around the desk, opening the door and stepping out into the assumedly-empty waiting room. Creeping toward the door, her eyes shifted right through Bethany and Owen. As she walked past, Bethany quickly headed for the front desk, slipping into the open doorway and looking down at the desk the woman had been sitting at.
Mostly, it looked like a bunch of paperwork had been piled on top of it. She wasn't sure if she'd expected much of anything else. But that wasn't what she'd come in here for. She scanned the desk, picking up files and turning them over. Finding nothing, she moved to the drawers, quickly ruffling through them. Still, nothing. She closed the last door, huffing as her frustration rose. Where did they keep these things?
Bethany scanned the room, and her eyes landed on a printer in the corner, sitting on an otherwise-empty desk in the back of the tiny room. Wasting no time, she bounded over to it, pulling at one of the slots where people inserted paper. Sure enough, a full stack of paper was on there, more than enough to achieve what she'd come here for.
She snatched the sheet of paper from the pile and brought it back over to the woman's desk, slamming it down. Then she grabbed the nearest marker, having just enough time to scribble something down before she heard footsteps. And they weren't Owen's. Eyes widening, Bethany quickly dropped the marker back into the cup holder she'd found it in, then leapt back against the farthest wall, just in time for the woman to come rushing back in.
Even through the goggles of the suit, Bethany could tell that the woman looked scared. Her eyes were huge, and from where Bethany was standing, she could tell the woman was shaking. In other words, Owen had done his part. Her eyes darted to the small window, only to see that a few of the chairs had been knocked over. Owen must've done that, or else she wouldn't see a reason why the woman would look so scared. She felt a pang of sympathy for her, but they had to do this if they wanted to get inside.
In front of her, the woman paced over to her desk, just as Bethany had hoped she would. She must've seen the note, because the next thing Bethany knew, a shriek was erupting out of the woman's mouth. Bethany jumped at the noise, almost falling into the wall in the process. Even though she'd half-expected that response, it just made her feel worse. The note fell out of the woman's hands. Breathing unsteadily, she glanced all around her in a panic.
"I-Is someone there? Who wrote this?!"
Edging along the wall, Bethany saw a coat in the corner of her eye — probably the woman's. It was hanging by a peg on the wall, so she reached for it, praying this whole thing wouldn't backfire. With the hood of the coat in her grasp, Bethany yanked it off the peg and threw it straight at the woman. She screamed again, horror painted all across her face. She started to back away, back towards the door.
"What — what do you want?"
Bethany decided it was best not to respond, more because she wasn't sure how terrifying her own voice would sound. Seriously, a teenage girl ghost? Who'd be scared of that? It seemed like something that'd be written into a kids' horror film, though not adult horror. Still, although she had a feeling that anything she'd say would be enough to terrify the woman further, she didn't want to take that risk. Instead, she lunged for the pencil holder, picking it up and waving it at the woman. Another scream, and she darted from the room.
Still holding the pencil holder, Bethany chased after her . . . only to slam into Owen, who inconveniently decided to move right in front of her. The impact sent them both tumbling to the ground, and she lost her grip on the pencil holder, sending pencils and pens flying everywhere. Both of them groaned. Bethany untangled her foot from Owen's leg, giving him the dirtiest look she could muster. He returned it with a guilty smile of his own. Great. There was no way the woman hadn't heard that.
From her spot on the floor, she looked up just in time to see that the woman was now holding up a chair, as if ready to hit them with it. Oh, Bethany realized. She was ready to hit them with it. She waved the chair around, head turning so fast in all directions that it was almost amusing. "Whatever y-you are, don't come any c-closer! What — w-what do you want from me?!"
"Say something," Bethany hissed to Owen.
Owen gave her an incredulous look, like she was crazy. "Me?"
"Yeah, you."
"If we want to seem scary, you're better at that!"
She used all her willpower not to drop him into the nearest prison file. "Fine." She picked herself off the floor, making her voice as ominous-sounding as possible, in a way that only Orion would be proud of. "We're the ghosts of this prison. We want the key to that door."
Frozen against the wall, the chair dropped from the woman's hands. It hit the floor with a loud thud, but that was the last thing she seemed focused on. She covered her mouth with her hands, shaking her head in horrified disbelief. "Why . . . w-why do you want . . . the key?"
"Because we want revenge!" Bethany screamed, and this time, even Owen flinched. "If you don't open the door, we'll haunt you forever. We'll stay in this jail and never leave. Do you want that?"
"No!" the woman cried. "P-Please, I'll do anything! I'll open the door for you!"
She stumbled away from the wall, practically tripping over her own feet as she rushed back to her office. A moment later, she darted back out, a key in her hands. Helping Owen off the floor, they made their way over to the woman, just in time to see that she'd fit the key into the lock. Hands visibly shaking, it took her a few tries until the lock clicked. She jumped away from the door like it was on fire, nearly bumping into Owen in her efforts to get away. Without even grabbing her coat, she booked it for the entrance and slammed the door closed behind her. Bethany guessed she wouldn't be back for a while.
"That was so cool," Owen gushed, a huge grin on his face. "She thought we were real ghosts!"
"I don't know, I feel bad for her," Bethany said, crossing her arms. "She was terrified!"
His grin faded a little. "Oh, yeah. I don't feel good about that, either."
She shrugged, smiling a little. "Well, it was still kind of fun."
"Yeah, did you see her reaction when I threw that chair across the room? I felt like Invisible Kid!"
"Is that even a real superhero?"
It was his turn to glare at her. "Of course. Something you would know, if you even read superhero comics."
"Uh-uh. They're just not really my thing."
"But you're Twilight Girl! It should be your thing."
She scoffed. "That's different, Owen. And can we focus? We have something bigger going on right now."
They both looked at the door standing before them, the key still jammed in the lock. Bethany felt a shiver go through her, all the excitement from earlier wafting out of her, like the air leaving a balloon. This was it. As much as she'd told herself this was the only option, she almost wanted to turn around and never come back. Just find another solution, like Owen had said. But no, that was crazy. This . . . this was all she had. Talking to Nobody was the only way to really figure out how to fix things. The more she ran it through her head, the more it made sense. But being here made it real.
Bethany reached up to pull at the handle, only to stop as her fingers curled around it. The metal was cold on her skin. If possible, she felt even less comfortable than before. She hadn't realized until then how much her hands were shaking. Her grip around the handle tightened, in an effort to hide it. What was she doing? Why couldn't she just open the door? She'd faced worst things. She could survive just one conversation with Nobody.
So why couldn't she open the door?
"We don't have to do this," Owen said softly. She jumped, having actually forgotten he'd been standing beside her. "We can just turn around and leave, if you want." He shuffled from foot to foot. "I would really feel better about just leaving."
Bethany didn't look at him. "No . . . we're doing this."
Without waiting for an answer, she pulled at the door a little too hard, letting it swing open. On the other side was a long, dark hallway, jail cells on either side of it. She could already see two guards pacing up and down the hallway, as well as hear the distant voices of prisoners. Nobody was here. Really here, either in this hallway or the next. Her heart pounded faster in her chest, so fast she felt lightheaded. She brushed her sweaty palms against her jeans, attempting to step forward.
But her feet were frozen in place.
"Are you okay?" Owen whispered. He lifted a hand to her arm, but Bethany gently shrugged it off. She didn't answer, only took a deep breath. And forced herself to step inside. After a moment of hesitation, Owen followed.
As they walked, she pinched herself to keep from hyperventilating, maybe even to remind herself this was real. And it was. Nobody was behind bars, so it wasn't like he could split her in half again or take her family away or hurt her friends more. An hour ago, she'd been ecstatic at the thought that he was locked up, possibly for years. It was better than nothing. He'd lost his ability to rewrite himself, too, so hurting anyone simply wasn't an option. But if that was the case, why was she so scared?
Irritation rose inside her, directed at herself for feeling this way. She hadn't been this scared earlier. Well, she had. She had been scared, but it'd been easier to pretend it wasn't there. To push the fear back and remember what they were seeing Nobody for. But the closer she'd gotten to the jail, the less confident she felt. Owen might be right for thinking this idea was bad. In her head, it seemed practical. Now that they were here? It almost seemed crazy.
Their footsteps were small, both in attempts to not make much noise, and if Bethany could guess, because of their own apprehensions. Owen had made it clear that he didn't want to do this, but he'd stuck by her, doing it anyway. She felt a sudden, unexpected swell of gratitude towards him. If he'd backed out when he'd said he would, she had no idea if she'd really be able to go through with this. She'd been preparing herself for it, silently reassuring herself that this was their best option, but she felt more nervous by the second. Maybe she was scared it wouldn't work, that Nobody would tell her nothing.
As soon as she thought it, she realized it was true. One of the reasons for her fear, and it wasn't just facing Nobody himself. She'd done enough of that within the past few weeks. But there was something about asking him for help — no, demanding answers from him — that didn't sit right with her. She'd done this before, she realized. In her greatest time of desperation, when she'd been so close to a breaking point, she'd gone to the villain for help. Trusted him, even, while knowing that she should be doing the opposite. While knowing she shouldn't set a trap for herself, a trap that she could see clearly, from miles away.
She was back to being twelve, back before she knew about Nobody, when all she'd focused on was finding her father. Always, the thought was heavy on her mind, and it pushed her to do stupid, reckless things. It was like asking Doyle for help all over again. She'd asked him to find her father, and what had he done? Caused her life more pain by presuming him dead. Fowen only added onto the mess.
It was the same thing here. Asking Nobody for help could just have them running in circles, never getting where they wanted to go. Never getting the answers they needed, and if that happened, the fictional world would never be restored. But that was what Nobody wanted. After all, why would he help them? Why, after everything, would he tell them the secret to saving the world?
Bethany did not have an answer. She hadn't this whole time, but here she was, going to face him anyway. Even while knowing it might not work, even while knowing this could be her stupidest idea yet. But it wasn't like she was going behind her friends' backs to do this. She had help, and besides, this was different from when she'd asked Doyle for help, because Nobody didn't have the upper hand. Here, he was locked up in the nonfictional world. No way could he pull them into a trap here.
Still, that didn't mean he couldn't lie, and that didn't mean he wouldn't refuse to help them at all. She wouldn't be surprised if he went either of those routes . . . she couldn't exactly see him cooperating when they were the ones who'd apparently ruined his plans. This could go any number of ways — likely very badly — but that didn't mean she wouldn't try. Not when she'd come this far.
Before anything, though, they needed to disable the security cameras. Just to be safe.
All of the sudden, Owen nudged her. "Hey, there's a map! That'll tell us where the control room is. Where they watch the cameras."
Bethany nodded, not exactly trusting herself to speak. She followed Owen's gaze, and sure enough, a basic map of the jail was embedded into the wall. It showed rows of jail cells on every side of the building. From the look of it, they were on the west end of the building, having just entered from the lobby. Her eyes trailed down the middle of the map, which showed the control room right in the middle, alongside a dining hall, laundry room, and all sorts of unnecessary rooms that jails had.
She focused on the control room. Of all the places in this jail, that had to be the one where they watched the security cameras. At least they wouldn't have to worry about sneaking in once they got there. Or getting caught by guards, which would lead to all sorts of complications. Not any that Bethany was in the mood to deal with, that was for sure. Invisibility made it much easier for that sort of thing, and Bethany was glad that she'd thought of it. Using Kiel's magic was always a good go-to, but invisibility suits? All her idea.
"Come on," she said, tearing her eyes away from the map. She reached for Owen's arm, pulling him after her. They quickly strode down the hallway, passing jail cell after jail cell. Many of the cells were empty, to Bethany's surprise. But she probably shouldn't be shocked. Jails were only meant for counties, and their's was pretty small. That meant less criminals, and less illegal actions in general. But either way, hardly any crime happened in their town. Ever.
The worst thing someone had ever done was murder, but as far as she knew, that'd only happened once or twice around where she lived. Another reason that, when she'd believed Kiel was a criminal back during her days as only her nonfictional self, the idea had scared her. Especially after hearing he'd (supposedly) physically assaulted the woman in charge of Bethany's book club, and had weapons.
She shook her head at the memory. As obvious as it'd sounded to her then, it just sounded crazy now. Seriously, Kiel as a criminal? Okay, yeah, he stole stuff from time to time . . . and broke the law constantly in Magisteria, but the nonfictional world went by different rules. With the Science Police roaming around, pretty much anyone who disapproved of Dr. Verity would get arrested. One of the times Bethany was in Quanterium, she had gotten into trouble, all thanks to Kiel. Crime just seemed to follow him everywhere, just like it did Kara and Moira.
Except fictional crime was far more exaggerated, far more nonsensical than it was in the nonfictional world. In fictional worlds, you might be sent to jail for very specific reasons, like causing too many time violations or disobeying an evil, mind-controlling summer camp. Here, the reasons for getting thrown into jail were fairly standard. They were just nonfictional, normal crimes. But with the crime rate so low, it was something that happened rarely in her town. Nobody getting arrested for attempted murder might've been the most action the police had seen in months, aside from the whole fictional invasion ordeal.
As it turned out, the control room really was where the map had said it'd be. At the end of the long hallway, they came across a junction, which separated into different hallways, leading towards different parts of the jail. Right in front of the junction, almost impossible to miss, was the control room. From the outside, it looked like any of the other gray, metal doors here . . . except for the fact that a small plague was to the left of it, clearly saying "control room" in small, printed black ink.
"This is it," Bethany whispered. She crossed the space that separated her and the door, pressing her ear against it. She expected to hear voices, but all she heard was the soft buzz of computers, barely loud enough to hear. She leaned back, glancing over her shoulder at Owen. "I don't think anyone's in there."
Owen frowned. "There's no way no one would be in there. Haven't you seen movies? There's always one guy watching the cameras!"
"That just sounds like a cliche."
"Because it's true, it happens."
"In movies."
His voice faltered. "It could happen in real life, too!"
She brought her hand down to the knob, slowly turning it to avoid making noise. "If someone's in there, we'll just scare them like we scared that lady."
"Oh, okay," he said from behind her. "Hey, you think she came back yet?"
"Who cares? She's probably gonna come back with the ghostbusters or something."
She didn't have to look at him to know he was smiling. "Whoa, you think so? That would be awesome. You know that the ghostbusters are fictional though, right?"
"Duh," she whispered.
She was about to open the door, only for Owen to grab her shoulder, stopping her. "Someone's coming!"
Bethany's heart jumped into her throat. They both straightened up, standing completely still. Luckily, she didn't have to do much to hide, since she was invisible anyway. She held onto the knob of the door, her grip tightening. If she'd opened the door before Owen had said anything, it'd draw too much attention to themselves. Especially when guards were roaming everywhere.
Sure enough, she heard footsteps coming down the hall, which belonged to a prison guard. Bethany held her breath as he passed right by them . . . only to slow to a stop. His head turned in their direction, and he stared right through her. Bethany wanted to scream. Paralyzed, she stared back. She couldn't even breathe, out of fear the guard would suspect their presence. But then the guard looked away, starting to walk again. She didn't breathe until he was out of sight.
"That was close!" Owen said quietly, voice flooding with relief.
"Thanks," Bethany managed to say. "I didn't even hear him."
"Yeah, I'm glad we didn't open the door when he got here." He glanced around. "I think it's clear." Then, looking back at the door, a panicked expression crossed his face. "Wait a minute, how are we supposed to disable the cameras? That's a Charm thing, not a me thing!"
She shrugged. "I don't know, we'll just unplug something."
"Oh, yeah." He laughed. "Like that whole thing is gonna have a plug."
"It probably does," she replied. "Now shh, we're going in."
Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she pushed on the door. It barely made a noise as it swung open, revealing a dimly-lit room with a long, U-shaped desk and a single chair in front of it. Most noticeably, more screens than Bethany had ever seen in a lifetime hung on the wall, all showing different parts of the jail at once. Every few seconds, the screens would flicker, changing to a different angle of a room or hallway.
In other words, they took security seriously.
Her eyes fell back down to the chair, and she did a double take. With the screens grabbing her attention first, she hadn't even noticed that a security guard was in the chair, just as Owen had predicted. Annoyance crept up on her. Fine, he'd been right about that. Maybe movies weren't entirely inaccurate when it came to jail security. But who could blame her? Movies were inaccurate about other things. For one, when did objects actually explode after falling off cliffs? They did in the fictional world, sure, but that drew the line.
Bethany crept forward, and Owen cautiously closed the door before following. She scanned the room, searching for a plug, or an off-switch. But it was hard to tell if there was one. The wires must've been connected to the back of the screens, because she couldn't see where they were, or if any wires were connected to the wall at all. So much for unplugging them.
She tore her gaze away from the screens, annoyed at how poorly this was going. And then she stopped. What looked like a fuse box was attached to the wall in the corner of the room. Her eyes widened at the sight. She may not have ever operated a fuse box, but her mom had once shown her the one they had in their basement, and what buttons to push if the power went out. Could this fuse box have the same properties, if that was even what this was? And could it do the opposite, by shutting down all the power in the control room?
She turned to tell Owen, but he was already near the screens, busy near the wall. Not that she really needed him for this, anyway. She hurried over to the fuse box, lifting her hands and pulling at the small latch to open it. It didn't budge at first, which was why, in a burst of frustration, she yanked at it. Hard. The small door of the fuse box came swinging open, making a sound that'd definitely been loud enough to hear. She froze in place.
From the desk, the security guard's head snapped in her direction. Looking confused, she started to get up from the chair, and Bethany could see Owen from behind him, frantically waving for her to come over. But then, the sound of a phone ringing bounced off the walls, and everyone jumped at the noise. Fortunately, it must've been more important than the fuse box, because the security guard instantly reached for the phone.
"Wendy from the control room speaking. Who's this? Oh, okay. Yes, everything's fine, there isn't any activity to report . . ."
Bethany let out a breath. Whew.
Deciding it wasn't important enough to listen in on, she drowned out the rest of the security guard's words. She turned back to the now-open fuse box, squinting to see. A long row of buttons and switches were positioned vertically along the inside of the fuse box, some with labels next to them, while others were blank. She stared at it. Did there have to be so many buttons? It didn't help that almost nothing was labeled, and the ones that were didn't say "turns off power in the screens".
"What are you doing?" Owen whispered, suddenly at her side.
"Trying to find the switch that'll turn off these screens," Bethany hissed. "You know anything about fuse boxes?"
He nodded, eyes widening. "Yeah, I know a little bit, but I've used the one in my mom's library, like, two times when our power went out."
"Good enough for me." She stepped back, letting Owen peer at the fuse box. While he looked at it, Bethany threw a glance back at the security guard, who was still on the phone. But she wouldn't be for long, and after she was done, Bethany was afraid she'd come over to see what the noise had been. Come on, Owen. Please hurry.
There was the small sound of a switch being pressed on, and then — every screen in the room went black. No more footage or surveillance of any kind. Bethany's mouth dropped open at the sight, though it was nothing compared to the security guard's surprise. She gasped, eyes on the screens. "Wait, something just happened. I think the security cameras have gone down. What? No, no one's here but me. I don't know why!"
Bethany gave her best friend a wide grin. He returned it, despite their equal amount of shock. Fortunately, the security guard wasn't even looking their way anymore. It might be while before she suspected someone had messed with the fuse box. Just to keep her from noticing, Bethany gently closed the door of the fuse box all the way, letting it click closed. Neither of them wasting any more time, heading to the door and cracking it open, just wide enough for them to slip through. Once safely on the other side, Bethany quietly shut it behind her.
"How did you know what button to press?" she asked Owen, unable to withhold the admiration from her voice.
He shrugged, still beaming. "My mom has ours labeled, so I kind of figured it'd be in the same spot that ours was. And it was! Oh, and there was a label in front of it labeled cameras, so I just pressed that."
"What? I didn't see that!"
"Well, it was spelled like C-M-R-A. Maybe that's why you missed it."
"Oh. Huh, I guess you're right." She smiled before taking a deep breath, gathering her courage. "Come on. Let's find Nobody before they turn the cameras back on."
She set her feet into motion, heading down the hallway. But after a few seconds, it was clear that Owen wasn't following. He cleared his throat from behind her. "I think maybe one of us should watch the cameras, while the other goes and talks to Nobody."
Bethany slowly turned back to him. "You don't want to talk to Nobody?"
He blinked, fiddling with the sleeve of his bodysuit. "Well, no, it's not just that, it's just — we need a backup plan. If the security guard figures out how to turn the cameras back on, or — or if someone comes back to investigate what happened, the cameras will be back on. I should stay. I'll be the lookout guy."
She couldn't tell if he was disappointed or not. "Are you sure? I'm sorry if you wanted to—"
"No!" He waved his arms around. "I'm really okay with doing this. I . . . would rather not talk to Nobody right now, so it's actually a lot better this way. But . . . are you okay with doing this alone? I can come with you."
Bethany knew deep down that she really didn't want to do this alone, and would prefer having Owen talk to Nobody with her. She'd feel safer if she did. But someone needed to make sure the cameras stayed off, because a girl appearing in thin air — in a jail, of all places — wouldn't look good. They'd recognize her from the police station, would call her mom, and her entire plan would be ruined. At least Owen guarding the cameras kept that from happening.
But was she okay with doing this alone?
No, she would be. Bethany had been alone for a long time. Had gotten used to it, and sometimes even preferred it. But that didn't mean she was or wasn't okay. Right now, she wasn't exactly sure how to tell. Being alone was one thing. It meant comfort, safety, maybe even loneliness. Facing Nobody alone was something entirely different. She'd had to face him earlier today, because facing him was the only way to stop him. The only difference here was that she didn't need to face him, nor did she have to do it alone. But she was choosing to do both.
Bethany swallowed thickly. "No, it's fine." She found herself repeating it. "I'll be fine. It's not like he can hurt anyone from jail."
"Okay, but be careful!"
"Don't worry, I will. I'll try to be quick," she said, though knew, somehow, that she might not be quick at all. His response was lost to her as she ran down the hallway. She passed the same hallway they'd come in from, leading to the main entrance of the jail. She didn't bother going down that one, instead walking past it, until she came to the next one. She stopped in her tracks, placing her hand against the wall and leaning over to peer down it.
More jail cells. No guards, though. At least, not for now. She started down it, slowly at first, then faster and faster. It seemed that the quicker she walked, the more everything else seemed to slow down. Her thoughts, which had seemed to spiral out of control ever since she'd entered this place, slowed down like they'd been doused in honey. Only one thought stuck in her head now. It rang in her head, over and over and over again.
Was this even what she should be doing?
There was a cough somewhere up ahead, and her brain snapped back to reality. Bethany slid her feet forward, slower now, guiding her towards the very middle of the hallway. Was it possible Nobody was down this hallway? If he was, did she want him to be? She wasn't even sure anymore. But this was for Orion, she reminded herself. For Gwen. For Kiel. For all her friends. And for her dad. The thought gave her a little more motivation to keep herself going.
. . . Only for it to come crashing right back down. Because at that moment, she reached one jail cell in particular, one with a person inside. Someone she recognized from the short amount of time she'd seen him with a face. And a profound sensation of dread came over her.
Bethany's heart thudded as she took in the sight. His jumpsuit was gray, unlike the orange ones she'd seen in movies and books — and of course, in Pick The Plot. She found herself wishing she couldn't see his expression, that he could still be faceless so there'd be no way to feel sorry for him.
That was her first thought when she saw him. Her second thought was — yep, she didn't feel sorry for him. It was both reassuring to see him so defeated, and frightening to see him in handcuffs and a jumpsuit like he was a real criminal. He was a real criminal now, she reminded herself. This just made it official. But also, seeing him like this, separated behind a row of bars, made this feel a little easier than it had before.
Though not by much.
Bethany drew in a trembling breath. "I need to talk to you."
Nobody's head lifted. "Who has invaded my presence?"
Here goes nothing. Bethany reached up, pulling off the fabric of her body suit, just enough that it revealed her face and shoulders. "I'm not here to get you out of jail or anything like that. I'm — I need to ask you some questions, and then I'll go."
"I thought you might show up here," Nobody said, drawling out each word. "I'm guessing you were hoping you didn't have to see me, but look how that worked out. Where's your useless sidekick, Owen?"
"He's not useless. And I'm the one asking questions here!"
"What do you want to know? If this was all worth it? If my being locked up really will fix anything?"
"Ye— no. No, I'm here because the fictional worlds are rewritten and you're the only one who knows how to change them back."
A flicker of irritation passed through Nobody's eyes. "I see. It had never needed to come to this, Bethany. The worlds never needed to be rewritten—that is, if not for you."
"You're the one who chose to rewrite it and split me in half! I had nothing to do with it."
"Oh, but didn't you?" He stood up, walking closer to her. Bethany would've backed away, if not for the protection of the bars. "I may not have needed to rewrite anything if you hadn't been born." He said it with disgust. "People like you should not exist, and they certainly shouldn't be ruining stories, one after the other."
"This isn't about me," Bethany said, hearing the fear in her own voice. "Stop making this about me. Just — just tell me how I can restore the worlds and bring back everyone. That's the least you can do, now that you're stuck here."
She expected Nobody to blow up, expected him to get angry. Instead, he only scoffed. "So, you think you can fix everything I did? You think you can fix all the thousands of worlds back to the way they used to be? Remember, they're all pure possibility now. They've been rewritten." He chuckled. "There's no way to reverse that."
She gritted her teeth. "I'll figure it out."
"The only one who had to power to alter entire worlds was me. You might've, if you'd tried." He let out a laugh. It was an echoey, icy kind of laughter. It sent a shiver up her spine. "But it's too late for that." He laughed again, harder this time.
"Stop laughing! Ugh. I should've just — I should've destroyed you!"
"Oh, Bethany. You should lower your voice. That kind of thinking might get you in jail."
"I don't care. Now tell me what to do. How do I bring back my friends?"
"How do you know your friends aren't all coming back?"
"Wha—" Bethany's heart skipped a beat. "They . . . they might be—"
"I brought back who I wanted. Who seemed like they deserved a new world. I gave everyone the choice if they wanted a new life for themselves, I just didn't say if all of theirs would be better. Who's to say if the pure possibility brought them back or not?" He smiled creepily. "Who's to say their lives aren't awful now?"
Her mouth trembled. "You're . . . you're just trying to freak me out. If their lives are worse, it's because of you. And I'll — I'll fix it."
"How? I was the only person who could've reversed it, but your friend Owen has made me unable to rewrite myself. Or anything else."
"Then I guess I'll learn to rewrite things. I'll rewrite everything back to the way it was. I don't care how I do it."
"You have no idea how to do it, Bethany. Nor can you. You aren't fully fictional."
"No." Her mind was racing. "I'll get help. I'll find my friends. We'll figure it out together."
"You think they'll have a better idea of how to change things then you? Really, you think everyone will want to go back to how they were? When I gave them freedom to make their own choices, to be who they wanted? You would take that away from them?"
Bethany clenched her fists. "It's not like that! I'm not taking anything away from anyone."
"Is that right? See for yourself. The fictional world is better off now than it's ever been. If your friends are different, it's because of their own choices. Not of those of a ridiculous author."
"You're wrong." Her voice was trembling. "And if you can't help me, I'm leaving. You'll never get out of here. You'll stay in here forever, and you'll be miserable, and me and Owen are going to fix all the problems you caused! I'm going to ask one more time: how do I fix the worlds?"
Nobody shook his head. "There is no way to reverse what has been rewritten. And if you try, I have no doubt that you'll fail." He smiled, like it brought him more joy in the world than anything else.
No, no, no. Why was this happening? This was all wrong! She felt the urge to scream, but it died in her throat. No sound came out. She just stared at him, feeling so furious and terrified and upset all at once. The emotions came crashing in on her, bombarding her like a tidal wave. Her mouth opened, maybe to say something, but she never did. Instead, she pulled her bodysuit over her face again. Then, she turned on her heel and ran.
"Good luck with your failure, Bethany Sanderson," his voice echoed after her.
Bethany didn't look back.
"Leave your jacket behind, lean out and touch the treetops over town . . ."
