Dead Mileage

STELLA AND ANYWAY RACED TOWARD the elevator, but the door was shut. She wanted to cry out, but she had no air. The distance between her and the elevator was closing, but so was the distance between her and the Inspector.

“Here! Over here!” A buzzing sound whirred toward them, and Anyway darted to the left. Stella was about to shout, “No, that’s the wrong way!” when she saw a golden flash in the air and realized that Spuddle was screeching, “Over here! Over here!” and turning small flips in the air.

Stella forced her legs to follow him, and the clockwork dragonfly hurtled toward an archway. A train, Stella thought. We’ll catch a train! But when they raced through the arch, the tracks were empty.

“This way!” Spuddle cried, zipping across the rails and then diving to the ground before disappearing completely.

“Don’t touch the third rail,” Anyway warned as Stella jumped down onto the tracks.

“I know.” She picked up the mouse and placed him in her pocket. At the center of the tracks was an open manhole. Spuddle popped up out and said, “This is it!” before disappearing again.

Stella looked at the hole. It was black, as frightening as the thing that was coming after them. But she forced herself to think of Spuddle, a bright glimmer in the dark, as she placed her legs at the edge of the hole and dropped inside.

She landed with a splash, but the water was only a thin puddle. Light trickled in from the manhole.

“Look,” Anyway whispered. She titled her head upward. As she watched, the metal thing stormed past, sending chunks of marble flying. From his place inside her pocket, Anyway’s tiny mouse heart whirred against hers at a rate of 500 beats per minute.

A spark flared, and Spuddle appeared. A small candle flame burned from his tail. It was barely enough to see by—it illuminated no more than two feet ahead of him, which wasn’t enough to reach the floor or the walls. But it was enough to see each others’ faces.

“What was that?” Stella asked.

“Ehrm,” Anyway said awkwardly. “Well, you see, I had to do a little unauthorized door-switching to find you again. . . .”

“The Inspectors didn’t like it much,” Spuddle volunteered.

Stella shuddered. “They’re worse than I imagined,” she admitted.

“I should hope so,” Spuddle replied. “Who would imagine those things?”

Stella turned to Spuddle. “So—where are we going?”

“To see Dr. Peavey, of course,” Spuddle replied. “To find out where Cole is.”

“I meant—which direction?” Stella explained.

He blinked at her brightly, causing the light to flicker. “I’m so glad you asked!” He blinked again, and then let out a little cough.

“Well . . . what’s the answer?” Stella asked.

“I don’t know,” Spuddle admitted. “Anyway?”

The Door Mouse sighed. “Forward,” he snapped.

“Excellent plan!” Spuddle congratulated him.

And so they went forward through the darkness with only a dim light to see by. Stella flinched and let out a small cry. “Something slithered across my foot!” She shook her leg, and her flip-flop flapped against her heel.

“Oh, that’s just a little bugaboo,” Anyway replied. “Try not to touch the walls—they can be very worrisome.”

They walked in silence. Stopping suddenly, Stella asked, “Did you hear that?”

Spuddle paused in the air. “I don’t hear anything.”

“What was it?” Anyway asked, his voice suspicious.

Every now and again, when Spuddle drifted close to one of the walls, Stella would catch sight of a complex web of cables and ducts. She would also catch movement—things crawling and wriggling along the pipes. She shuddered.

Time is a very difficult thing to have a sense of when you are walking along in the dark. Time didn’t make much sense in the Dreamway as it was, but inside this strange tunnel, alive with pipes and creatures, time almost ceased to exist. There was only this, only now.

They had been walking. They were walking. They would be walking. The future was something best left alone.

Stella stumbled, pitching sideways. She windmilled her arms to balance herself and fell against the wall. An insect scurried across her hand, traveling up her arm.

“Ouch!” It had bitten her. She shook it off, but the bite made her arm feel as if it was on fire. She stumbled again.

“Stop!” Anyway shouted as Spuddle cried, “What is it?”

But Stella didn’t answer. The darkness was parting. Ahead, there was a light. The light grew brighter and brighter, until the brilliance was as blinding as the dark had been. More than blinding—it was a white like the fire on her body, and she felt as if she were a flame, burning, burning away. . . .

She stood alone at the center of a stone labyrinth, wondering, Which way? Which way? In every direction, an identical opening. She took a step toward one, and then hesitated.

Maybe it doesn’t matter, she thought. Just as she was about to take another step, someone called her name.

She froze. Every hair on her body stood on end. It was Cole.

“Stella!” he cried.

Behind her.

Turning, she plunged into the gap between boulders, Overhead, the sun burned as she raced toward Cole’s voice. It was hot. The stone beneath her feet radiated through her flip-flops.

“Stella!”

It was to her left. She doubled back, racing toward the voice. Could she get to her brother? The stone walls rose above the crown of her head but cast no shadows.

“Stella!”

Forward, forward, and suddenly, she was out of it. The labyrinth was behind her, and before her stretched a vast ocean of sand, and nothing more.