Cragbridge Hall, Volume 2: The Avatar Battle (8 page)

The prisoners acted like they had heard it all before. Their faces were blank, looking throughout their new cell, looking anywhere but at Oscar Cragbridge.

Grandpa lifted up the briefcase he had been holding. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what’s in here.”

The two men looked at each other, but did not reply.

“No matter what it is, it is horrendously dangerous to bring anything from the future to the past.” He handed the case to Coach Horne. “Would you give this to the Trinhouses? Tell them we don’t trust it and want to make sure it’s safe before we open it. Have them keep me informed.”

The coach took the case and nodded. Abby wondered who or what the Trinhouses were.

Grandpa turned to leave, then shifted back. “Did it even occur to you that Muns’s energy bursts can only send you into the past, but cannot bring you back? There is no way he could create one in the right place to stay open long enough to retrieve you. He sent you on a kamikaze mission into the past, and you went!” He pointed at one with his cane and then the other.

Abby hadn’t thought of that before, but it was true. Muns would have left them there whether they succeeded or failed.

“Fine, then,” Grandpa said. “I will have to decide what to do with you.” He stepped back and motioned for Rafa to close the door.

“Naïve cretins!” Grandpa burst out, clanking his cane on the ground as he walked. “Ignorant moldwarps! Do they understand nothing?”

“Wow,” Carol whispered to Abby. “I think his genius undies are in a bunch. He’s angrier than a wolverine with stickers in its paws, pine cones up its nose, and its tail on fire.”

“This time travel stuff is serious,” Derick said.

Grandpa waved the group toward him. “We have much to think about and to decide. I’ll be contacting most of you soon.”

Most
of you? Abby wondered if he would contact her. The group gradually spread out as they made the journey back up toward the school.

Abby inched up closer to her grandpa. There was still something she couldn’t figure out. Maybe it was the right time to ask. Derick and Carol followed. “Grandpa,” Abby said quietly, “I have a question.”

“Go ahead,” Grandpa said, his red face slowly fading back to its normal hue.

“I understand that you must have some sort of device that told you
when
Muns used an energy burst, but how did you know where in history Muns had sent his men?”

Grandpa looked over his shoulder, then spoke softly. “Derick and Carol, did you both hear that question?”

They nodded.

“I don’t believe anyone else did,” Grandpa said. “Do not share that question with them. I have been preparing for quite some time to answer it, but would like to address it my way. But it is a very good question.” He cleared his throat. “The kind that needs an answer.”

Abby walked alongside her Grandpa. She waited for him to tell her more.

“There is something I have become increasingly worried about,” Grandpa said. “There is more to understand than even those with keys know. Now that Muns has acted again, the urgency has increased.” He took a few more steps. “Yet some answers shouldn’t just be given.”

“What does that mean?” Derick asked.

“Just as with the secrets you learned from inside your lockets,” Grandpa said, “some answers you need to earn. The answer to your question is just as serious as the answer you learned about our ability to go into the past.”

A rush went through Abby. Really? Something that serious?

“It is not a trifling matter,” Grandpa explained. “Monday morning, check the safety deposit room.” Abby had seen that room before. It was on the main floor of the Hall, a place where students could store valuables they didn’t feel comfortable keeping in their dorms. Abby had never used it; she hadn’t had the need. “I will send you a retrieval code. Please keep secret what you find there. Derick and Abby, because you have keys, you will find special information there. Carol, you do not have a key, but you know the secrets of the Bridge already. If you desire, I will let you assist Abby and Derick. No one but you three should discover what you find. I urge you to treat this seriously. After tonight’s events,” he paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully, “it has become very important for someone else to know the answer to that question. It could be essential in the future if Muns continues to strike.”

9

The Black Box

The three students approached the safety deposit room. Carol yawned. It was still early. The cafeteria hadn’t even started serving breakfast. Most of the school was still sleeping. The room was long and thin, a row of twelve doors down one side, each with a scanner beside it. Derick approached a door and raised his hand so the machine could match his fingerprints and verify his identity. He waited for a moment.

“Nothing here for me,” he said. “I bet Grandpa sent it to you, Abby. You were the one who asked the question.”

Abby raised her hand. She couldn’t feel the scan, but knew it was happening. Almost immediately a message came through her rings.

Your belongings are being authenticated and delivered.

A light turned green beside the door. Abby opened it and stepped inside. There was barely enough room for one person. A framed metal door the size of a cereal box hung on the wall at eye level. Abby was scanned again. They really protected people’s stuff. Of course, a lot of kids at Cragbridge Hall came from wealthy families—or had already gained some decent wealth themselves. They would have some things they’d want to keep safe. Abby could hear the muffled sounds of metal on tracks, movement behind the wall. She had heard how the rooms work. Behind the wall, a delivery system would retrieve a unit with her belongings from the vault in which it was kept and then place it behind the door. Scans of both her and the unit ensured that the right items were delivered to the right person—and only the right person.

A light on the smaller door glowed green. Abby opened the door, discovering it was several inches thick—not nearly as heavy or thick as the huge doors protecting the Bridge but still impressive. Inside was a small package wrapped in brown paper. It was about the length of two candy bars and a couple of inches wide.

Abby retrieved the package and stepped out to see Derick and Carol waiting. “Oh, it’s like Christmas, or my birthday, or Easter, or graduation, or just Fridays when my mom has had a stressful week and she feels like doing some shopping therapy. Present time!” Carol clapped her hands.

Derick leaned over and read the tag tied to the top. “To those who ask the right questions.” He looked at Abby.

“Can I open it?” Carol asked.

“Sure,” Abby said, “but let’s go to a study room first. I know it’s probably too early for anyone else to be around, but we should probably be careful. Grandpa said to keep this private.”

Moments later, they were in a secluded study room along the commons. Carol ripped at the paper. She was impressively quick at opening a gift. From the remaining wrapping, Carol pulled a rectangular black box made from dark metal or extremely reinforced plastic. On the front was a silver metal lock shaped like a question mark, a keyhole in the body of it.

“It needs a key,” Carol said and looked over at Abby and Derick. Whatever was inside was intended for those who had already faced the challenges and could be trusted with the power to go back in time.

“Here,” Derick said, pulling a key from his pocket. Grandpa hadn’t yet made a cool way for him to save and protect it. “I really want to use this.” Derick had told Abby last night about enduring a Civil War battle to get a key. He hadn’t said too much, but after surviving her own simulation, she had an idea how hard it had been. Boys never gave enough detail in their stories.

The key fit perfectly. With a twist and a click, the black box opened. A small, three-dimensional image of Grandpa appeared. He was only four inches tall.

“Hello,” Grandpa said. “Whoever you may be, you have been asking questions. I admire that. Questions are to be valued . . . treasured. They are the beginning steps of some of the best journeys. I have probably spoken to you about the importance of this particular journey. I need others besides me to know more information, though you must be prepared to receive it. In fact, I hope I am not too late in extending it to you.” Grandpa exhaled and rubbed his eyes. “But you must ask yourself how much you want the answers. Because answers—real answers—cannot simply be given; they must be earned. The answers to the question or questions you have asked especially must be earned. Those answers come with power and consequences.” He motioned toward the open box below him. Inside it, Abby found what must be a small compartment. Covering it was a touch panel that, when she moved her fingers near it, showed a grid of random letters and numbers. It must take some sort of code to open. On top of the panel lay a small rolled-up piece of paper. Abby picked it up and unrolled it.

“Another Bridge code,” Carol said out loud, reading the piece of paper over Abby’s shoulder.

The image of Grandpa spoke again. “So . . . how badly do you want to know?”

• • •

Derick, Abby, and Carol all entered the Bridge booth. Such booths lined history classes and labs in the school and in the dorms. Each booth had enough space for several students, who could study without anyone else seeing what they saw. Abby entered in the code, ready to see an event from the past. Soon all three students were looking at the faded image of a bald man with a long beard who was dressed in robes. In some ways he reminded Derick of Grandpa, though this man was much more muscular.

A young man approached, standing tall with a wide smirk on his face. He began to speak a language Derick didn’t recognize or understand.

“Turn on the translate feature on your rings,” Derick said, switching his own rings on and searching for the right setting.

“Or we could just talk for them—like voiceovers—and say what we think they should say,” Carol said. “Like,” she began to speak for the young man. “Oh, great bald one! I have come from afar to see the great shine of your scalp. You have a legendary noggin of great gleaming wonder.”

Abby snickered. “Very funny, but I don’t think it’s going to lead to the answer to my question.”

In a moment, all three of them had turned on their translators. Derick’s showed that it had detected ancient Greek and began translating it into English so he could hear it in his earpiece—the same earpiece that allowed him to hear messages he received on his rings.

“Socrates,” the young man addressed the older one. Socrates? The bald man with a beard was the great philosopher? Interesting.

“Sorry, Socrates,” Carol mumbled. “I was just playing, but you
do
have an amazingly bald head.”

There was something about the young man that Derick didn’t like—he had annoyingly good posture and he seemed to keep his chin too high. “I have come 1,500 miles to gain wisdom and learning,” the young man said, definitely proud of himself. Wow. If Derick lived at the time of Socrates he thought he might search him out too, ask him some questions. But he probably wouldn’t have traveled that far. Well, he might now on a speed train or plane, but definitely not on foot. “I want learning, so I came to you.”

Derick watched as Socrates motioned with his strong arm and invited, “Follow me.”

Derick couldn’t help but wonder how watching Socrates would help them with Abby’s question. What did any of this have to do with how Grandpa knew where to go back in time when Muns attacked?

The philosopher led the young man down to the shoreline, the water a blue-green. Socrates gestured again for the young man to follow him as he waded into the water. Not what Derick expected.

“This is weird,” Carol whispered. “He asked for knowledge, not swimming lessons.” Abby shushed her.

The young man was apparently willing to humor Socrates because he followed him in. Soon the water was up to both of their waists. Then the strong philosopher grabbed the young man by the back of the neck and plunged him in under the water.

“Weirder,” Carol said. “This is just getting weirder.”

The young man struggled under the water and tried to stand up, but Socrates wouldn’t let him surface.

“And I thought I had some mean teachers,” Carol said.

“He must be teaching him something,” Derick replied.

“Pay attention,” Abby said.

“Well, he would be a horrible swim teacher,” Carol mumbled. “And he’d get terrible scores on a rate-your-teacher site.”

Derick waved Carol off. Socrates let the young man up for air. “What do you want?” he asked.

“Knowledge,” the young man replied.

Socrates pushed him back under the water longer than he had before, then pulled him up again. “What do you want, young man?” he repeated. Derick didn’t think Socrates was trying to be mean. He didn’t seem like he was angry or bitter, just determined.

This time, it took the young man longer to answer. He breathed in heavily before responding, “Wisdom, great Socrates.”

Again Socrates plunged the young man under the water. This time, he held him longer. Finally, he pulled the young man back up from the sea. “What do you want?” he asked again.