“No way.” Sheed looked left, right, and even up for any sign of the shiny pair.
Otto did not help, too busy recording all they’d just learned.
Entry #43
A.M. and P.M. claim to be “Clock Watchers”—agents of time—whatever that means. They appear to be creatures of supernatural origin. Their touch, combined with a touch from me and/or Sheed, can unstick a person, permanently freeing them from their frozen state. An ability previously unavailable to us.
DEDUCTION: We need to find them and start unfreezing more townspeople. We can use all the help we can get.
Sheed jogged off a bit, his eyes flicking down. “Otto!”
Otto continued his notations.
Sheed clapped his hands. “Otto! There’s a trail.”
Otto peeled his eyes from his pad and noticed two sets of glittering gold footprints tracing a path from where A.M. and P.M. once stood. Easy enough to follow.
“Get your bike!” Sheed shouted, already running for his.
Grabbing their supplies and stuffing them into Otto’s backpack, they darted to where they’d laid their bikes in the street. Mounting them, they pumped the pedals, tracking the golden footprints. It was an easy trail to follow, though A.M. and P.M. must have been moving fast because the cousins saw no sign of them. They rode through familiar streets, all the way across Fry, past its many frozen residents. The general direction of the tracks seemed to be taking them to a place they knew well from so many cool football, basketball, and baseball games. Fry High School, home of the Fighting Flamingos.
Because it was the high school, it sat at the highest point in town, on top of the hill that rose up like a tent’s peak. Riding the bikes up the incline was strenuous work, even for boys who ran everywhere and sometimes jumped for no reason at all. By the time they reached the school, they were both gasping mightily. Sheed most of all.
The boys couldn’t figure any reason why the Golden Hours would go there. Like their middle school, the high school wouldn’t open until tomorrow. If tomorrow ever came.
They dropped their bikes and gear, took a moment to catch their breath. Sheed removed the length of rope from Otto’s bag and hefted it on his shoulder. “I’m so tying them up.”
“Maybe we won’t have to,” said Otto. “A.M. and P.M. seemed nice enough.”
“Before they ran away.”
“If we find them and we think they’re going to run again, we could maybe tackle them.”
“Then tie them up.”
“If that makes you happy.”
The school’s front doors weren’t locked, or even there. They’d been pushed inward with such force that they’d come off the hinges and were simply propped against the walls of the school’s main corridor. The golden sparkly tracks continued inside, but the boys didn’t need them. Deep in the heart of the school, they heard a pair of familiar voices screaming, “Nooooo!”
Following the sound, the boys moved past rows of lockers until they came to an intersection of hallways. The tracks led in a direction the boys were familiar with, toward the gym where the Fighting Flamingos played all of their rivals. A basketball court in the highest building in town was the highest court in the land, Sheed once noted when Grandma brought them to a game. She laughed, and said he made a fine point there.
I’m going to be a Fighting Flamingo one day, Grandma. You and Otto can watch me hit a bunch of buzzer beaters.
Grandma agreed that was an even better point. Otto said Sheed would probably ride the bench, because Otto was a hater sometimes.
At the far end of the gym was a big glass trophy case, filled with plaques and medals and glossy golden cups commemorating Fry High achievements in sports and academics over the years. In front of the case, staring at the glass, were A.M. and P.M. The Golden Hours were not looking at the 1979 Chess Club trophy, but staring at their really-not-so-bad reflections, horrified.
Sheed, irritated, said, “Hey, why’d you two run off like that?”
A.M. said, “We’re sorry.”
P.M. said, “That was rude.”
“Dang right it was,” Sheed said. “We’re trying to figure how to fix time, and you’re the only people we’ve met who know anything about what’s going on.”
There were many questions to ask, but Otto’s deductive mind needed a single curiosity settled. “How’d you get here so fast? We were on bikes and couldn’t catch you.”
A.M. frowned, as if the answer should be obvious. “We already told you we’re the Golden Hours. We’re responsible for the best light of the day.”
P.M. said, “Wrangling light requires agility and efficiency. In order to properly do our jobs, we must—”
Sheed, so excited he squealed before speaking, said. “Oh. I know this one. It’s light speed. You two can move at light speed. Like a starship!”
A.M. beamed. “That is absolutely correct.”
Otto was surprised by Sheed’s guess (mostly because he didn’t think of it first).
Sheed read Otto’s face. “What? You thought you were the only one who could deduce stuff? Man, please.”
Otto rolled his eyes and moved on. “You ever hear of a guy named Mr. Flux?”
A.M. and P.M. mulled it over.
A.M. said, “No. The name is not familiar.”
P.M. added, “We’ve worked with everyone who’s anyone. If he were someone to know, then we would know him.”
That was disappointing. If the Golden Hours didn’t have a clue, who did?
Otto said, “You’re agents of time. You don’t have any idea how to fix what’s happened?”
“No,” said P.M. “That’s why we came here. For guidance.”
The boys glanced around the cavernous space. Schools were places for information, and answers, and guidance, but was there supposed to be information, and answers, and guidance about frozen time at Fry High’s empty gym?
“Have you found any?” Sheed asked, skeptical.
“No,” said A.M. “We’ve yet to visit the library.”
P.M. said, “We got distracted by—”
She faced the display case and, being greeted by her reflection, she began to scream, “Noo—”
Sheed grabbed her shoulders, gently turned her away from the cruel glass. “Let’s go to the library.”
The Golden Hours nodded enthusiastically and allowed Otto and Sheed to lead them.
Because the boys were middle-schoolers still, and unfamiliar with the maze-like hallways of Fry High beyond the gym, they relied on handy direction arrows mounted on the walls of each intersection. They took three rights. A left. Went up two flights of stairs. Took another right, a left, and two more rights before arriving at a set of double doors beneath a big brass LIBRARY sign.
Long before reaching the doors, they’d heard a soft rumbling that grew in volume the closer they got. Now, just mere feet from entering, they recognized it as the low roar of many voices speaking at once.
Concerned, Otto asked, “Are those your friends in there?”
A.M. and P.M. replied at the same time. “Some of them.”
Sheed said, “Is this dangerous?”
“Oh no,” A.M. said. “As far as we know, we’re indestructible.”
The boys thought that over a second. Otto pointed at himself, then Sheed. “We’re not indestructible.”
P.M. said, “You may want to be careful, then.”
The Golden Hours shoved Otto and Sheed into the room.