CHAPTER 27

And, oh boy, do I panic.

For someone who is supposedly about to save the universe, I seriously lose the plot.

I run up the hallway to the kitchen, touching the lucky crack once more as I go. There are Mum and Dad, Mum washing some fruit and Dad unpacking the dishwasher. Both are frozen – care of Molly and Hale, I suppose. I turn and run into the living room. And there is Ethan, still on his beanbag, staring at the TV. Frozen. I keep going, running onto the back deck, then back inside and down the hallway again (lucky crack) and into my room. Then Molly’s room, Mum and Dad’s room, the bathroom again …

I have no idea what I’m looking for. Some sort of clue, I think. But there’s nothing. Nothing. Apart from all the frozen people in the house and the three aliens in front of me, one of them a dog, everything seems very normal.

Out the front door. Nothing.

And back inside to the aliens to beg for mercy.

‘You’ve got to tell me what to do. Give me a clue. Anything. Anything and everything you know. About what’s going to happen, I mean.’

Molly glances at Hale. She shrugs. ‘I’m sorry, Cooper. There really isn’t anything else.’

‘Surely. Surely there’s something.’ I’m seriously about to get down on my knees and beg.

‘Dude,’ Jack pipes up again. ‘You really need to calm down.’

‘CALM DOWN?!’ I seriously can’t believe what I’m hearing, and I don’t know which is worse – the manic ticking, or my dog telling me to calm down at a time like this. ‘And stop dude-ing me! It’s not appropriate for the end of the universe.’

‘Sorry,’ he rolls his eyes at me, ‘dude.’

I run a hand through my hair. ‘You’re not worried that I can’t do this?’ My eyes are boggling now. I’m not sure which one of them I’m even asking. ‘You’re not worried about dying?’

‘Oh, no,’ Molly answers. ‘We won’t die,’ she points to herself, Hale and Jack. ‘Just everyone else.’

I stare at her, gobsmacked. ‘Well, that’s nice for some, isn’t it? Nice to know how much you’ve got invested in this! Thanks for telling me at the very last second.’

But Molly looks unfazed. ‘That’s how it is,’ she tells me. ‘Anyway, I think you can do this. I haven’t always, but I do now.’

After a few more seconds of staring dumbly at her, I give up and return to my headless chicken routine (because that’s totally working for me). Amazingly, I manage to be even more uncool this time around. I run back up to the kitchen once more (lucky crack), where everyone is still frozen. Living room, still frozen, back down the hall (lucky crack). Then I pause for a bit and look feverishly around me.

‘We’re all going to die,’ I say, to no one. ‘We’re all going to die.’

‘No,’ Jack speaks up, ‘Molly just told you that—’

‘NOT HELPING!’ I yell at him.

Hale cuts in then. ‘You know, I really don’t think that’s going to happen,’ he says, speaking just as calmly as Molly.

‘Oh, I feel so much better …’ I shake my head as the ticking gets faster still.

Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick …

Hale ignores me and turns to Molly. ‘Haven’t you ever suspected?’

‘Suspected?’ Molly frowns.

‘When we went to free Jack, Cooper knew the timing of release. The exact timing. I didn’t need to use a repletor – he knew the exact moment I could free Jack. Maybe you never suspected because you were too busy. With your experts.’

I have no idea what they’re talking about. But as they talk about it, I remember that weird feeling I’d had in front of the sphere, Jack stuck inside. And, as I think about it, the same sensations start to pour into my body again, each cell sort of … awakening, ramping up to high alert, as if some signal in my brain has started flashing red lights and wailing noisy sirens, as well as the ticking sound.

Something’s going to happen. Again. Now. Right now. I can feel it.

But what?

Maybe Molly senses that I’m losing it (not that you’d need super-alien perception to see this), but she grabs me now, by both arms, her face right in front of mine. ‘This is it. Whatever this is, you can do it,’ she tells me. ‘Like Mum is always saying, just have a go. Do your best!’

This, at least, makes me pause. I give her a look. ‘Are you serious? That’s your pep talk? Really?’

But I can’t concentrate on her for long. I start panting all of a sudden, my body really losing the plot, just like my mind before. Everything inside me is intent on … something. Something I can’t define. It’s like there’s a tornado inside of me, whirling and whirling, picking up more of me as it turns, except for one thing – there’s no focus. No centre. I realise something then. I need that centre. I need that centre or I’m going to explode.

I have to find it.

Now.

I forget about Molly’s pathetic pep talk, or begging for more information, because something tells me it really is down to me now. Only I can do this and I have to do it alone.

Instinctively, I start running once more. This time, I go further. I run down the hallway (lucky crack), straight through the kitchen and out onto the back deck. I run right around the perimeter of our backyard. I run around the side of the house and out to the front yard. I run back upstairs and onto the front verandah. Into the house and each of the bedrooms again. The bathroom. The hallway once more (lucky crack).

I’m not even thinking now, I’m in such a frenzy. There is no thinking, only running. All the time, looking. Looking for something. Searching.

For what? I have no idea.

Faster now. Down the hallway (lucky crack), kitchen, deck, backyard, front yard, verandah, bedrooms, bathroom, hallway (lucky crack).

Faster, faster, faster. Around and around and around. Until I’m like something in a cartoon. Not a person anymore, just a trail. A trail of feverish, incoherent energy. A whirlwind.

Down the hallway (lucky crack), kitchen, deck, backyard, front yard, verandah, bedrooms, bathroom (lucky crack) …