The Hanging Hill

89

The janitor guzzled down all the water in that twenty-four-ounce sport bottle Zack had grabbed.

Rehydrated, he had the strength to ask Zack a question: “Where’s the blond boy? Derek Stone?”

“I don’t know,” said Zack. “Probably getting ready for the big party.”

“What big party?”

“With the director.”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

The janitor rubbed his face. “Of course. The full moon! We don’t have much time. Are they going to a restaurant?”

Zack shook his head. “No. Apparently, there’s a banquet hall or something down in the basement. Maybe in that big storage room with the Minotaur statue.”

“Minotaur?”

“You know—a man with the head of a bull?”

“Moloch!”

“No. We think it’s a Minotaur…”

“Moloch!”