“It’s a pill to make you chill. Seriously? You’re in seventh grade and you don’t know that?” He munches on a Cheeto, unconcerned. And he didn’t even say thank you for the food.
At this rate, Mac’s going to make me want to strangle him before the monsters even get their chance.
The whistle blows and the conductor leans out, calling, “All aboard!”
Mac and I gather up our food and push it all back in the bag. We run to the train and climb the steps into the car. I’ve never been on a train before, besides the one at the Albuquerque zoo, but considering that one just goes around the exhibits and back, I don’t think it counts. This one is the real deal, with two rows of wide seats, and carpeted aisles, and big windows. I check our tickets again and find our seats—two facing each other in a group of four. Mac and I will both get a window.
“Aren’t you kids a little young to be riding the train by yourselves?” asks a voice behind us.
I turn to find the conductor standing there. He’s a dark-skinned man with a broad stomach. It’s difficult to read his eyes beneath his Amtrak cap and bushy eyebrows. But he isn’t smiling.
“Uhhh…” I mutter uselessly. This is it. If he kicks us off the train, I don’t know how we’ll get to Spider Rock. Which means no Spider Woman, no map, no weapons, and no saving Dad.
“Our father told us to take the train,” Mac offers matter-of-factly. “He’s the one who bought us the tickets.”
“Is that so?” asks the conductor. “Well, we do get unaccompanied minors on occasion, especially going back to Gallup. But—”
“You can call him if you want,” Mac says. “Nizhoni has a phone.”
The conductor scratches his cheek, thinking. I give him my winningest smile. Like the one that convinced Coach to let me take the final shot. Please, please, please let this work.
Just then someone in the seat in front of ours calls, “Conductor, could you help me read this train schedule, please?” I turn to see a middle-aged Navajo woman turning the folded paper in her hands like she can’t tell which way is up. “I don’t know why these have to be so confusing.…”
“Give me a minute, ma’am.” He reaches for our tickets.
“But I don’t know if I’m on the right train or not,” the woman whines. “I really need your help now.”
The conductor wrinkles his nose and, after a moment’s hesitation, scans our tickets. “Tell you what,” he says to us, marking our seats with paper stubs. “I’ll keep an eye on you both. If you need anything, let me know.” He flashes us a big grin.
“Sure thing,” Mac says, throwing the conductor a thumbs-up.
Phew, that was close. I watch, relieved, as the conductor moves on to the woman, and we take our seats.
“What’s wrong?” Mac asks. “You look a little freaked out.”
“Nothing,” I say. “Nothing at all.”
“Hey, didn’t you say Davery was coming? We’re leaving any second. He better hurry.”
“He’ll make it,” I insist, but I’m worried, too.
Davery’s still not here when the train rumbles to life. I check my phone again, but there’s no text. My stomach does a flip-flop. I thought I could do this on my own, but I’m scared.
Mac pulls out his iPad and opens his animation app. I look out the window one last time, just as the train lurches forward, and to my utter astonishment, there he is. Davery is running full speed across the concrete platform, headed for the closing train door.
And Adrien Cuttlebush is right behind him.
“Look!” I yell, pointing out the window. Mac whips his head up, and we watch Davery leap for the door. He makes it through just in time, one hand grasping the support pole and the other gripping his backpack strap. The door slides shut in Adrien’s face, and I can almost hear his yell of frustration as he pounds a fist against its window.
Adrien’s head swivels toward me, his eyes meeting mine, and that horrible sensation—my monster detection—springs to life. The hair on the back of my neck rises, and a chill like the trail of an ice cube scuttles down my spine. The train inches forward, and as we pass, Adrien opens his mouth and shows me a mouthful of sharp, pointed teeth.
He may not have been a monster before, but he definitely is one now.
But before I can process how Mac’s bully became a carnivorous red-eyed creature, Davery bursts into the train car. I stand up and wave, and he comes bustling over, murmuring, “Excuse me,” to the other passengers as his swinging backpack whacks them on the shoulders.
He slides into the seat next to me, huffing.
“What happened?!” I whisper-shout, trying to keep my voice down so the other passengers don’t get too curious.
Davery holds up a finger.
I sigh impatiently.
His glasses are fogged up, and he takes a moment to pull a kerchief from his pocket. He rubs the cloth back and forth over the lenses, making sure to get every corner.
“Are you serious?” I say, exasperated.
He doesn’t say anything, just rolls his eyes up to give me the Patience, Nizhoni look. I swear he practices that one in the mirror.
I cross my arms and flop back in my seat. I check the window again to make sure Adrien is gone, and I’m rewarded with a view of the quickly disappearing city of Albuquerque. From here until we hit Gallup, in about three and a half hours, it should be just wide-open vistas of juniper, red rocks, and windy mesas. No monsters. (At least I hope not.) I’m still not sure how we’re going to get from the Gallup station to Spider Rock, but I’ll find a way. My dad is depending on it.
Finally, Davery slides his glasses back on and gathers himself.
“I think you’re correct about the monsters,” he says matter-of-factly. “And I believe the particular monster that’s chasing you, the one you were calling Mr. Charles, may in fact be a shape-shifter.”
Of course! That explains Adrien Cuttlebush. If people really smacked their foreheads in eureka moments, I’d be smacking mine.
“I saw him,” I say. “More like I saw his teeth, to be exact.”
“Did Mr. Charles have any compatriots? Helpers?”
“He had two bodyguards.”
Davery nods. “I think he and his bodyguards are shape-shifters of some kind. That means we’ll have to be vigilant. No one can be trusted. They could be a monster in disguise.”
I shudder. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Davery says, although his voice seems a bit shaky. “But it was close. He waylaid me at the bus stop by the school, tried to get me to tell him where you went. He had some fantastical story about Mac controlling the sprinkler system like a character from the X-Men.”
“Who, me?” Mac says around a mouthful of bologna. I mean, Mac’s water powers are cool and all, but when he’s eating with his mouth open and has Flamin’ Hot Cheeto crumbs flecking his lips, he’s about as far from an X-Man as possible.
“We can tell Davery the truth,” I say to my brother. “He knows about my monster-sensing abilities.”
“You’re saying Mac really did shoot water at Adrien and his friends by using his mind?!” Davery’s eyes are wide with surprise.