I'm sure my chin had dropped enough to make me look like a yawning baboon. I wouldn't have been more surprised if Hood had stood up and started singing Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious…

As still as a box of frozen fish sticks, I listened to the news-woman and her British accent.

“… the growing rumor that began in a small Japanese village has suddenly sparked perhaps the most urgent task of a generation. World leaders in an emergency phone conference immediately agreed to commission a joint task force for the sole purpose of finding the boy.

“Although stories of the young man known as Jimmy Fincher were hard to swallow at first—despite the vast amount of amateur video footage taken during the now-famous helicopter incident—it now appears to be shockingly true. Most applicable to our current crisis are the accounts of Fincher single-handedly defeating creatures similar to the ones that are now attacking the world in a vicious, synchronized assault, leaving countless bodies in their wake.

“It is widely agreed that the boy must have invaluable knowledge concerning the creatures and their purposes, not to mention the inexplicable and other-worldly powers he exhibited in defeating them in the oft mentioned and constantly debated incident spoken of previously.

“We at the BBC join our fellow news associates around the world in pleading for information that may assist the authorities in finding this boy, Jimmy Fincher. If you have knowledge that may lead to his whereabouts, please call the number at the bottom of your screen. Now, we are getting reports that new attacks have been caught on film in the southern portion of South Africa …”

This time when I turned off the TV, the black claws of a Shadow Ka were the last things I saw on the screen before darkness swallowed the room.

I rolled over onto my bed, grabbed a pillow, and stuffed it under my head. I knew sleep would not come, but I tried to clear my mind of everything to at least give my head a break. Of course, it didn't work.

Everything depended on tomorrow. I could call the number and tell them where I was located, but what good would it do? They'd probably send an entire army to whisk me away to some underground military base for questioning.

No. Make it to tomorrow, go to the North Pole with Hood, and find the Lady and the Red Disk. Somehow I would figure out a way to save Dad without jeopardizing my search for the Dream Warden, and then I would get the final Gift needed to defeat the Stompers. Then I could tell the authorities.

Just make it to tomorrow.

The dull glow of pre-dawn snapped me out of that strange realm between sleep and wakefulness. Never having fallen into a truly deep slumber, I had nevertheless drifted off into some sort of bizarre daydream world in which I kept imagining Tanaka coming back to us dressed in a tutu. As strange as it was, I rose from my bed with a renewed sadness for our lost companion.

These thoughts and feelings dissolved into oblivion as I remembered the news program from just hours earlier. The world was looking for me. The whole premise seemed more unlikely than the vision of Tanaka in a pink dancing outfit, returning from the depths of the ocean. But it was true.

The world was looking for me. They knew about the Gifts, they wanted my help. And I was about to run from them.

As I went to the bathroom for a quick shower, the images of thousands of people, lying in the streets as if dead, filled my head. How many people out there were mourning the loss of loved ones? How long was it taking for people to realize they were actually entrapped in a magical sleep? I was tempted to call the number flashed a million times on the screen by the BBC just to make sure the people knew what was happen-ing—that the Stompers were really and truly coming now.

But the idea washed away with the rest of the sweat and grime as I showered. I had to focus. All that mattered for the moment was getting to the North Pole and entering the Blackness.

When I was dressed and ready for the big day, I called Hood's room. He picked up the receiver, without a word of course—they still haven't invented phones that transmit finger paint—and I told him it was time. I put on my backpack—to store the Red Disk and whatever else I might find—and looked down at the special watch we'd bought the day before in a little convenience store. According to the digital timepiece, we had an hour before the Rip opened. Then I would utilize the stopwatch feature to count down the fifty-six minutes once it did.

Fifty-six minutes. I had to enter the Blackness, find a gateway, enter a world full of waiting Shadow Ka without them noticing, seek out the Lady of the Storm, and follow her bidding in fifty-six minutes. Even Farmer had sounded less than hopeful it could be accomplished.

While I waited for Hood, it was tempting to turn the TV back on and see if anything new had developed. But it would be too distracting, and it was time to get down to business.

There was a sharp knock at the door. I took a deep breath and readied myself for the trip of a lifetime. I walked over to the door, grabbed the handle, turned and pulled. I looked out at the person who had knocked.

It was not Hood.