Prisoner of the Molepeople

Chapter 37 - Makeover

Two nights in a row without a wink of sleep has a way of bending a girl's sense of reality. While other brains are turning off and on, off and on, hers just keeps on going. She sees the cycles, the limits, the illusions, and begins wondering if breaking free isn't merely a matter of will.

But then she begins seeing spots and losing her balance and wonders if conforming to the great wheel isn't that bad after all.

“One more day,” I said to the crazy girl in the mirror, “then I'll sleep. In my own bed.”

Duthbert thought I was his wife. Father Jackothan thought I was a Gahboo. Lenny was a prisoner. Grandma was a prisoner. I was a prisoner. Yet somehow, in spite of the powers of Molemania, I had to (a) slip beneath the radar, (b) rescue my friends, and (c) lead an expedition through the under-underworld, which would supposedly lead us home.

Assuming the plastic “crystal” in my pocket was, in fact, some sort of key to the under-underworld, only one question remained: where was the door? Of course, I'd already blown my chance at the back door, but somewhere there must have been a front door.

As the streets outside began to fill with the cars of early commuters, again I laid out the plans of the Romantic Division's secret network (AKA the under-underworld) on my bed. Giving the confusing jumble of lines a second chance, I discovered something interesting: the letters SM.

Shadow master?

The letters were inside of a dashed rectangle, as if to indicate a hidden door. These rectangles were all over. There was one in a section labeled “Gahboo temple.” There was another in a section labeled “bank.” There was one in the “country club” … “Nabisco Factory” … “Burger Lion” … “jail” …

Jail?

In fact, there was a rectangle in every cell of the jail. Of course, I could have been wrong about the meaning of the rectangles, but if I wasn't …

What the heck?

Only a crazy person – a brilliantly crazy person – would install secret passages in a jail. “Thank you, Grandma,” I said, jumping to my feet. In one thing I agreed with Duthbert: the Romantic Division needed to have its funding cut. But in the mean time …

“Thank you, Grandma!”

It was all coming together. In moments I had a plan. A real plan. All I had to do was the one thing I was exceptionally good at: fail. I had to get arrested and thrown in jail. In so doing I would both lose my bodyguards and get exactly where I needed to be … the only place I could possibly slip away without being seen. From the secret passage I would open Lenny's secret passage. Then, together, hand in hand – as friends – we would rescue Grandma at our leisure.

Still, it was a gamble. For one, I could have been totally misinterpreting this whole shadow master thing. For two, what would stop the police from confiscating the crystal? To ensure this didn't happen, I would have to rely on my charming wit. And if that failed … well … no plan was perfect. I had to do try something.

Hearing voices outside my door, I quickly folded up the plans and stuffed them in my pocket.

Chuck and Willie entered the room.

“Hey, creeps,” I said.

Whether it was the uncharacteristic confidence in my voice or my bloodshot eyes and Bride of Frankenstein hair, the little guys actually stepped back.

“Drugged any more old ladies recently?” I asked.

They looked at each other for a moment, then Chuck gave me a threatening claw. “You better just shut up about that.”