The Secret Box (11 page)

19
Ethan

FACT:
The
D
in Washington, DC, stands for
District
. It's called that because it's not a state, but it's still part of this country so it needed to be called something. The
C
stands for
Columbia
,
named after Christopher Columbus. People used to be taught that Columbus discovered America and so Columbia was a name used for our country in songs and in poems. Funny how you're taught one thing and it turns out to be a lie. Like a certain man discovering America, or a certain great-aunt not existing.

W
e were on our way to the Madison Hotel in DC. Jax's mom called during the drive. Then my mom called. We didn't have to lie too much. We said we'd made a lot of stops along the way and that we were almost there. My nose tingled after each conversation, but I made it through. Good thing I wasn't Pinocchio.

During the ride from the Sunny Days Motel, I sat in the front seat so I could help with directions. Even with Tyler's weird music, which now sounded like monks chanting, Jax managed to fall into a deep sleep in the backseat. She kept a tight grip on the box the whole time. This had been the craziest day ever.

What we'd decided was this—we'd trade the box for Juniper, the
empty
box. Jax and Tyler were determined to keep whatever was inside. So we just had to be a bit sneaky, and not let them know the box had been opened until Juniper was safe.

“It doesn't exist,” I said.

Tyler chewed on an apple core. “What are you talking about?”

“I know what you're thinking. You're thinking about the word on the wall. You're thinking about Pandora's box. But it's not real.”

The monks stopped chanting. I knew the song had ended but it seemed like they'd paused the music so they could listen to our conversation.

“Of course it's just a story.” Tyler glanced warily at me, then we both looked quickly over our shoulders at the metal box on Jax's lap. A whining sound arose as Tyler's car veered over the yellow line. He cursed and quickly turned his attention back to the road. “But haven't you heard that fact is often stranger than fiction?”

I know about facts. They clog my brain. They are real. Pandora wasn't any more real than Santa Claus.

As twilight fell over the city, we finally reached the Madison Hotel, which was four blocks from the White House. I'd chosen the White House as the location for our “exchange” because I figured there would be lots of security guards around and we'd be safe. I nudged Jax until she woke up. Tyler pulled up to the entrance and a valet took the car keys. This had been one of the instructions during Mom's lecture that morning. “Have the valet park the car. There's a lot of crime in our nation's capital and the valet will put the car in a secure garage.” And, as Mom knew, with the valet helping, Tyler wouldn't have to parallel park.

We checked in at the front desk, then carried our backpacks so we wouldn't have to pay a bellhop. Jax was still groggy as we rode up in the elevator, but the moment we stepped into the room, her eyes widened. “Wow,” she said. “This is amazing.”

Tyler and I had done a lot of traveling with our parents, so we'd seen our fair share of hotel rooms, but this was super nice, not because the two queen beds had satin covers or because there was a vase of fresh flowers and bottles of chilled water, but because the flat-screen TV was double the size of our TV at home.

Tyler immediately claimed the desk, set up his laptop and gaming mouse, and logged into the hotel's wireless.

“Look at the bathroom,” Jax said.

One bathroom wall was totally covered in mirrors. A basket stuffed with mini shampoo bottles, lotion, soap, and shower caps sat on the marble counter. And the toilet was one of those Japanese toilets I'd read about in
Wired
magazine, that squirts water and then blows hot air to dry your butt. “Cool,” I said.

“I love these towels,” Jax said, running her hands over one. “They're so fluffy.”

The bathtub was big enough for two people. Not that we were going to take a bath together. We hadn't done that since we were babies. How many times had Mom embarrassed me with those photos?

Tyler opened the mini fridge. “Look at all this stuff. Cheese, pâté, candy—there's even wine and beer in here.” He grabbed a package of crackers. My stomach growled but I first had to call Mom. “We're here,” I told her. I assured her that Tyler had driven safely, no speeding, and that the hotel was nice. Then came the part I hated—the lying. “We'll check into the geocaching event tomorrow.” Jax was resting on the bed, her eyes closed, the box nestled on her lap. I turned my back to her and whispered into the phone. “Mom, do you know if we have any . . . terrorists in the family?”

“What?” Mom asked.

“Uh . . . anyone who builds or trades weapons?”

“Those are very strange questions, Ethan. And why are you whispering? I can barely hear you.”

“I'm just wondering if . . . well, if we have anyone in the family who might be . . .”

“Are you asking about Juniper again?”

“No.” The lie felt heavy on my tongue, and when I swallowed, it felt like I'd swallowed a boulder.

Mom's voice tightened. “Your Aunt Lindsay told me that Jax got a birthday present from Juniper. The present was taken away for good reason. I don't want you to ask any more questions about her. It would make your Aunt Lindsay very upset.”

“Okay.”

What had begun as a simple plan to open a birthday box had turned into something dangerous, with sinister overtones. It felt more like a movie than real life. Mom, Dad, and Aunt Lindsay knew things about Juniper, things that might help us deal with the Camels. Things that might help us figure out what was inside the box. I glanced over at Jax. Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths. “Mom,” I said. “Can you call Aunt Lindsay? Jax is real sleepy from the drive. Can you tell her we've checked in and we're okay?”

“Sure. Give your brother a kiss for me.” Tyler was online, his butt firmly glued to the hotel chair, his headphones in place. He'd kicked off his shoes and socks and a sour odor had already begun to fill the room.

“I'm not giving Tyler a kiss.”

“I don't know why you two can't be nice to each other. One day, when your father and I are long gone, you'll appreciate having a brother.”

“I'm still not giving him a kiss.”

“Fine. Call me in the morning. Bye.”

I kicked Tyler's disgusting shoes and socks into the closet, then I ordered room service—cheeseburgers, fries, and lemonades. They arrived on big trays with miniature ketchup bottles and tiny salt and pepper shakers. The smell of toasted bun and melted cheese woke up Jax. Tyler grabbed his plate and set it next to the computer. I took all the green stuff off of Jax's plate before handing it to her.

“They've probably found the note by now,” I said as I sprinkled salt on my fries. “Do you think we did the right thing?”

“Yes,” Jax said. Her eyes were puffy. She looked like she hadn't slept in ages. “We have the box. It's going to be okay.”

I nodded. Of course, I wasn't so sure. I'd never done anything like this before. And a big question was nagging at me—what would happen if we opened the box and discovered something dangerous?

After tossing my baseball cap aside and slipping off my Converse shoes, I sat cross-legged on the bed. Jax sat cross-legged too, the plates between us. That's the cool thing about staying in a hotel room without your parents—if you get ketchup on the bedspread, they can't yell at you about it.

“Juniper was smiling at me in that photo, the one where she was holding me when I was a baby.” Jax thumped the ketchup bottle. The puzzle box was wedged between her and a pillow. “She looks like a nice person.”

I hoped she was a nice person, because a nice person wouldn't put something dangerous into a box and mail it to her niece. Tyler jammed fries into his mouth and mumbled something at the screen. My eyelids had begun to feel heavy but the food reenergized me. It had the same effect on Jax. She crammed her cheeks like a chipmunk and her eyes brightened.

“I say we press the button,” she said after gulping the last of her lemonade.

“Here? Are you sure? We can only push the button two more times.”

“We're in the center of DC. This is as good a place as any. Besides, we're kind of running on luck now.”

Tyler was wearing his headphones, so he had no idea what we were talking about. “Ambush!” he cried as the screen lit up with bursts of weapon fire. His fingers danced across the gaming mouse as he perched at the edge of his chair.

I expected Jax to tell Tyler what we were about to do. But she didn't. “Just you and me,” she said.

Nice to know I was still her partner.

After getting the map, ruler, and protractor from my backpack, I followed Jax out onto the balcony. Evening had bled into night. The city was all lit up. A bar was playing loud music. We could see into the windows where people were laughing and dancing. The day's heat had faded but it was still warm enough for shorts. Below the balcony, headlights glided like lanterns on a river. Jax held the box up to the sky. “I want to make sure I get a good signal.”

“Uh . . . what if we're wrong?” I asked. “What if the right spot isn't in DC but it's in the middle of Lake Oneida? What if we came all this way and—”

“We're not wrong,” Jax said. Then, with a smile, she pushed the button. Light arose from the screen. She lowered the box so we could read.

Attempt 9 of 10.
1.8 miles from the right spot.
Good-bye.

“We're soooo close,” she whispered. “So, so, so close.”

“Great,” I said, only somewhat happy. Part of me had wanted to fail, so we could go home and be done with this.

The map I'd brought wouldn't help us because it didn't show enough detail. So I found a DC city map in a stack of tourist information in the room. We sat side by side on the balcony, the map spread out. After marking our location at the Madison Hotel, I measured the radius of 1.8 miles, then drew the circle. The circle ran through streets, parks and buildings. “It could be any of these locations,” I said.

“I don't think Juniper would choose just any old place. Think about it. She's an archaeologist so she's all about relics and treasures.” Jax's finger traced the circle. It clipped the edge of the Museum of Natural History. “That's a possibility,” she said. The circle crossed roads and parks, then went straight through the center of a building.

“The Lincoln Memorial,” I said.

Jax's eyes widened. “Hello? That has to be the right spot. That photo showed Juniper and me at the Lincoln Memorial.”

I nodded. It made sense.

“I have a good feeling about this,” Jax said. “And it's important to listen to your feelings.”

“Uh . . . you mean like when I had those feelings that we should call the police? You didn't listen to those.”

“That's because they weren't
my
feelings.” She gave me a teasing smile. Then she looked up at the night sky. “We can't go now, it's too late.” I sighed with relief, because I'd thought for sure she'd make us go out in the dark and trek through a city known for its monuments
and
its crime. “We'll go first thing in the morning.”

Using her sleeve, she began to polish the box. I could understand why she wanted to keep it. The design was amazing. The seams weren't visible, and the LCD screen was so perfectly placed, it looked like it melted into the shiny metal. “Do you remember the Camels saying that someone named the Locksmith built the box?”

“Yeah, I remember. They also said that no one knows where he is.” Jax's face suddenly went dark and she stopped polishing. “Do you think she's afraid?”

“Who?”

“Great-Aunt Juniper. Do you think she's still tied up? Do you think she's scared?”

“I'd be scared,” I said. “But they won't hurt her. They want the box. It'll be okay.” Strange, but Jax was the one who was worried and I was the one doing the comforting. What I didn't say was this—remember that evil voice on the phone? He wants the box, too. “Let's get some sleep.”

While Tyler's alter ego wandered through the bowels of a virtual labyrinth, fighting with a half-man, half-bull creature, Jax and I climbed into opposite beds. I won't go into detail but that Japanese toilet was weird. I grabbed the tourist guidebook and read about the Lincoln Memorial. Reading helps quiet my mind when it's spinning. My parents would kill me if they knew that tomorrow I was going to make a hostage exchange.

Jax started to snore and my eyelids grew heavy again. I turned off all the lights until the only glow came from Tyler's computer. As I pulled back the sheets, Tyler whipped around. “That's my bed. I claim it.”

“But I got it first.”

“Oh yeah?” He pulled off his headphones, scrambled out of the chair and grabbed one of his dirty socks from the closet. Then he rubbed the sock all over the sheets and pillow. “Do you still want this bed?” he asked with a smirk.

We were kids again, fighting over the best sleeping bag, or the best place on the couch. He'd always be older and bigger so he'd always get the good stuff. “Fine!” What a jerk.

I climbed into bed next to Jax, careful not to wake her. The box was tucked under the covers, taking up a lot of room. It jabbed my arm with its sharp corner. I tried to move it, gently tugging it free of her grip, but she opened one eye and stared at me. “What are you doing?”

“The box is in the way.”

She sat up, suddenly wide awake, her hair matted to one side of her face. “Then go sleep in the other bed.”