Witch and Wizard - James Patterson [50]
“Where?”
Then I saw what he meant… too late.
Chapter 81
Whit
I SLAMMED ON THE BRAKES, but apparently if you’re driving a heavy van full of kids and you’re suddenly on a steep staircase going down, the brakes give out immediately.
The children in back screamed like they were strapped into a thrill ride built by a serial killer. I had a split second to wonder if they all wished they were back at the prison, getting little gray-striped jumpsuits to try on.
But that was the only coherent thought I managed before we were bouncing around too much to think straight.
Down, down, down!
Gachonk, gachonk, gachonk!
Why is it that time flies when you’re having fun, but when you’re behind the wheel, plummeting down a flight of steps in a van full of hysterical kids, time virtually stops? The laws of physics are so unfair.
“What were you thinking?” I yelled at Emmet. “This is a subway station!”
“That’s right!” Emmet shouted over the gachonking noise of the crunching shock absorbers—which didn’t seem to be absorbing too much shock. The sound of the kids’ screaming bounced up and down like hysterical hic-cups. “Another abandoned subway! We can ride the tracks all the way to the portal, which will bring us home!”
Oh, no way, I thought as the van got a couple of huge jolts—smashing through the turnstiles—then bounced across a platform and skidded sideways in horribly slow motion… toward the edge.
Everyone shrieked in panic as the van skittered along the platform’s lip for a few long, agonizing seconds before dropping like a ton of concrete right onto the subway tracks.
Silence rushed in to fill the void where the non-amusement-park-ride screaming had been. I felt like someone had just taken us out of one of those paint-can shakers at the hardware store.
We were right smack on the tracks of the subway, though, our now cockeyed headlights shining into cavernous darkness. I turned the van off and stared at Emmet.
“There we go. No problem,” he said finally, his voice a little shaky in the crushing silence. His face was also whiter than a marble statue’s.
“Everyone okay?” I croaked.
“Let’s not do that again,” one of the kids said through tears. “Okay, mister?”
“The worst part’s over,” said Emmet. “Now we can ride these rails without anyone looking for the van or any of you missing prisoners. A turn off tunnel will take us right to the portal.”
A long, low whistle suddenly echoed through the blackness.
“Another train, far away,” said Emmet. “Okay, let’s get a move on.”
I reflexively checked the rearview mirror as I felt for the ignition key under the steering wheel.
What I saw was a bright, single light piercing the darkness behind us.
“Um, not so far away.” I turned to Emmet, my heart slamming into my chest.
“What?” asked Emmet.
“Take a look out the back window.”
He didn’t need to. The kids’ screams told him everything he needed to know.
Chapter 82
Wisty
IF YOU’RE EVER on the brink of death—or, in my case, of ill-fated eternal life as a rodent—I recommend singing childhood songs to lift your spirits. How can you be climbing up a drainpipe without indulging in a cheerful round of “Itsy Bitsy Spider”? I sang the line about the spider being washed out with a nervous titter as I ascended into the prison complex.
From the drainpipe, I came out into a gutter. I raced along the roof edge until I found an air-conditioning vent, just like I’d seen in the prison schematic back at Janine’s computer.
Excellent. I squeezed through and then ran along the duct until I found another vent. And then another. And another.
I was as close as I ever wanted to being a rat in a maze.
But right then I was becoming increasingly aware of another mouse side effect: you can smell a million times better than you can as a person. I quickly found out that I could actually follow my nose. Pretty soon I came to a turnoff that I knew had to be the right one. It smelled like hell on a particularly hot day.
The conduit was completely dark, but I figured I’d be able to see better when my eyes adjusted. Or