The Leveller - Julia Durango Page 0,33

in the wall. Black. They’re all filled with it. It undulates, shifts. I can sense it moving, more than see it. Its darkness is total and complete.

“All you’re doing now is making it worse,” Wyn says. “Go home, Nixy.”

I kick another hole in the wall. “You know what? Fine. Inventory,” I say, blinking as the sidebar comes up in my mind. I open the file that has my emergency code listed. “I’ll go back home and draw a map for your daddy and his minions so they can come and find you. And then you can bitch to them about their rescue methods.”

His face flashes something else now, something more sad than angry, and he opens his mouth as if to say something.

And then there is a sound. Or rather, a change in the sound. A dampening of it, like my ears popping in an elevator.

I turn and see the wall behind me begin to fuzz and break into fractals, like static on a TV. The surface bends crazily—the image of it stretching, twisting. I watch as the Black pulses out of the hole I’ve made. It swallows the wall in great, large sections.

It’s mesmerizing. I can do nothing but stand and stare at the wall as this presence—this thing—devours it.

“Go,” Wyn says.

I blink at him. The Black moves onto the floor, oozing, turning the surface I’m standing on into . . . nothing.

“GO!” he barks. He grabs my shoulder and steers me toward the door. Outside the room, he closes the door behind us, and locks it tight with a key from his pocket.

“Wh-what?” I sputter. “How? Are we—?”

Wyn presses his lips together. “I think it will stay contained inside the room,” he tells me. “It never did . . . that before.”

We stare at the wood frame. It holds fast—stable, solid.

Wyn turns to me. “I think . . . Nixy, I think you should go.”

I blow out a long breath. I feel like I can barely think, much less save anybody. “Look, maybe the programmers can find a way to create a new portal for you, once I explain the problem.”

He tries to smile at me, though he looks anything but happy. “Please tell my grandmother that I miss her and I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

I feel a twinge of guilt thinking of Mama Beti. How disappointed she’ll be when I return empty-handed. But it can’t be helped. Wyn’s right. There’s no easy way out of here and I’ve done my best.

I found Wyn. Now someone else needs to get him the hell out of here.

I nod a quick good-bye, then recite the eleven-number code into the MEEPosphere, waiting for the familiar beeping sound to take me back to reality.

I wait a little longer. No beeps. I’m still in the hallway of Wyn’s imagined Cuban townhouse, and Wyn is starting to look worried.

I blink and look up the code again. Maybe I mixed up the numbers. I recite them again, this time more loudly. “5-1-1-9-6-1-0-0-7-0-0.”

Nothing. Across from me I see Wyn’s shoulders fall, his head drop. He raises his hands and massages his forehead with his fingertips.

I run down the stairs and out onto the cobbled street, yelling the numbers into the night sky. “5-1-1-9-6-1-0-0-7-0-0!”

Beside me a car honks.

A small group of Meeple hail a cab.

The code. It doesn’t work.

I am trapped here . . . with Wyn.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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MY HEAD IS POUNDING, LIKE THERE’S A CYMBAL-PLAYING MONKEY going to town inside my brain. I consider shooting it with my laser gun—that ought to shut it up—but something about that plan seems wrong. I’m too tired to figure out what though.

Why can’t I think? I lean against the townhouse’s exterior wall, then close my eyes and slide down it into a heap.

The monkey doesn’t stop. BANG BANG BANG BANG. I tuck my head down and put my hands over my ears, which is useless, but I can’t seem to do anything else.

After a few moments I register a hand on my knee and a soft voice saying, “Hey there.”

The monkey does its best to drown out the voice. BANG BANG BANG.

“Nixy, can you hear me?” the voice says, more loudly this time.

I blink and try to pull myself together. I nod and then wince. Moving my head makes me dizzy.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Wyn says. He gently helps me to my feet. “You need to rest.”

He takes my hand like I’m a five-year-old and leads me around the back of