The Black Heart Crypt

The rope was tied to a bell-shaped lead weight, part of the old clock’s winding mechanism, similar to the chained brass pinecones that drove his grandfather’s cuckoo clock.

Zack grabbed the cord with both hands above his head. Pulling down on the rope while jumping, he lifted himself into the air. He quickly used his feet to pinch the rope and anchor himself in position.

Now he reached as high as he could with his arms and gripped the rope tightly so he could release his feet and, crunching his stomach muscles, bring his knees to his chest and once again snag the rope between his feet.

“How’d you do that?” asked Malik.

“Coach Mike taught me.”

Now he just had to do it five or six more times.

And not look down.

Looking down always made him realize what he was actually doing, and then he couldn’t do it anymore.

Grunting, groaning, grabbing, and gripping, he finally made it up to the pulley.

“Is it there?” Malik shouted from below.

“Hang on.”

Now Zack had to try something he’d never trained for: While holding on to the rope with one hand and squeezing his feet hard, he reached up and felt around on the top of the grimy crossbeam the pulley was bolted to.

He felt nothing but splinters.

So he slid his hand the other way.

And knocked something off the ledge!

“Got it!” shouted Malik.

Zack looked down.

His friend had made a perfect two-handed breadbasket catch.

Zipper barked and wagged his tail.

“Is it the black heart stone?” Zack shouted.

“Yep! Come on down.”

Zack slid down the rope.

Exactly the way his gym teacher, Coach Mike, had told him not to.

He had nasty rope burns on his palms and knees but he didn’t care. Malik was already twisting and turning the black heart stone and taking it apart!

“I need to find the signal mirror,” said Zack, rummaging through Aunt Ginny’s bag. “It’s time to call in the herbologists!”

He found the silvery square and ran over to the clock face.

There was a broken-out spot about two feet off the floor, between the V and the VI.

He knelt down to flash Judy the signal.

He could see her near the school bus, shielding her eyes with one hand, staring at the base of the tower.

He tilted the mirror back and forth a couple of times, bounced Judy a sunbeam.

She blinked. Looked up. Waved.

A raven cawed.

“Haw-haw-haw.”

Zack stuck his head through the hole.

The big black bird was perched on the frozen minute hand.

It ruffled out its giant wings and took off—flying straight for the big yellow bus!