The Smoky Corridor

74

Malik, holding a flashlight, stood frozen in fear at the top of a steep staircase.

The monster, crouching at the bottom in a dimly lit pit, glared up at him with burning red eyes. A deep, throaty purr rumbled up the steps.

Some kind of dog, Malik thought. It has to be some kind of mutant dog. It was the only logical explanation.

Then he remembered the first line of code carved into the stone he and Zack had found in the janitor’s closet: A zombie guards my treasure well.

The first time Malik had read it, he had focused on the treasure bit. Now he was thinking about zombies. Corpses brought back to life by powerful voodoo sorcerers to do their masters’ bidding. Reanimated dead people that feasted on human flesh and brains.

If you wanted to guard millions of dollars’ worth of gold, a zombie would sure make a good watchdog.

He inched his gaze down a bit. In the jittering circle of light twenty feet below, he saw slick fangs glistening with slime.

“W-what are you?” Malik stammered.

The beast rumbled up another purr.

“Stay away!” Malik shouted, wishing he’d spent more time playing video games instead of reading books, because there were all sorts of ways to kill zombies in video games. He’d heard guys talking about it on the bus.

“Leave me alone! Go! Get out of here!”

Then, much to Malik’s surprise, the creature turned and scurried off into the darkness.

Still terrified, Malik stepped backward into the tunnel that had brought him down to this split and the two staircases. There was probably some other kind of monster waiting at the bottom of the other set of steps. He swung his flashlight left to check it out and the beam bounced off tiny circles of glass.

Antique pocket watches suspended from tarnished brass hooks on a wall between the two staircases.

Malik counted thirty-nine. They seemed to be clustered in groupings. Two watches. Three. Two.

Like letters in words.

Another code! he thought.

“The watches tell you which way to go,” Malik mumbled out loud. “How to avoid the zombie!”

Could the arrows on the hour and minute hands be pointing in the direction he should head to stay safe?

No. They were pointing up, down, sideways—all over the place.

He studied the thirty-nine clock faces hanging on the far wall.

It looked like the dials on a water meter.

But it was something else. A secret message.

It had to be.

Now all Malik had to do was figure out what it said.