machines against the wall and an elevator machine room in one corner, two tables and about a dozen of those falsely cozy chairs, but there was nothing that appeared to match any of the markings on the box. He spent several minutes pacing around the room, examining everything, but there was nothing there.
His first thought was that the songs narrowed it down to the building and the initials narrowed it down to the room, but maybe the initials were just another part of the previous clue. He set off down the hallway, peering into any rooms that were open or that offered windows through which he could see. He took the stairs up to the second and then third floor and then took the elevator down to the basement.
Nothing.
Eventually he found his way around to the back of the building and he stepped outside. Perhaps the next day he would tell Brandy what he’d found and she could help him determine what the last clues meant. Already the janitors who were vacuuming the carpets up on the third floor were beginning to give him strange looks. He could hardly blame them. He was creeping around like a thief looking for something to steal, cradling a strange wooden box in his arms. He’d be lucky if they didn’t call campus security on him.
He was about to walk back into the building for one last look around when something caught his eye.
No, that wasn’t right. It didn’t catch his eye. It was as though something compelled him to turn and look back, as though a soft voice had whispered from that direction, begging him to turn and see.
For a moment he didn’t see anything, just the sidewalk, some trees, the billowing white smoke of the power plant beyond, the darkening sky above. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing he couldn’t see walking out of any other building. But then he saw it, right there in plain sight, yet well hidden. He’d walked past so many of them. They were all over campus. It was the panic button.
These big red buttons were attached to six-foot posts all over campus and wired directly to the campus security headquarters in the administration building. In the event of an emergency, one push of this button would bring the campus police rushing to this location.
There were dozens of these buttons on campus, but no two were exactly identical. They each displayed a different number above the button, identifying the station. This particular button was number twelve.
It wasn’t a Z at all. It was a number two. A one and a two. Twelve .
Albert felt certain that this was the first of the three clues on this final side of the box, but he felt neither excited nor proud to have found it. Instead, he suddenly felt very creepy. What made him turn and look at the panic button in the first place? It was as though something reached into his head and made him see it.
No. That was preposterous. He simply saw it immediately, registered it subconsciously and then reacted to it a moment later. That was all.
Still, something felt very weird. Perhaps it wasn’t right. He walked over to the button and examined it. Except for the number twelve and the warning sign that hung beneath it, there was nothing. He turned and looked around him, convinced that this was the wrong solution after all. But then he found the second clue staring down at him from the roof of Juggers Hall. A tower rose up from the center of the roof and a large clock-face stared back at him. On that clock face, directly between roman numerals six and eight, was the second clue.
Albert stared up at the clock, unable to believe what he saw. What he did next he did almost without thinking. Standing in front of the number twelve panic button, he stared up at the clock and traced a straight line with his eyes from the center of the clock, past the seven and down to the ground. There, set into the concrete was a large metal plate, an entrance to the tunnel that ran beneath the sidewalk.
He walked over to this metal covering and found the final clue. Near
His first thought was that the songs narrowed it down to the building and the initials narrowed it down to the room, but maybe the initials were just another part of the previous clue. He set off down the hallway, peering into any rooms that were open or that offered windows through which he could see. He took the stairs up to the second and then third floor and then took the elevator down to the basement.
Nothing.
Eventually he found his way around to the back of the building and he stepped outside. Perhaps the next day he would tell Brandy what he’d found and she could help him determine what the last clues meant. Already the janitors who were vacuuming the carpets up on the third floor were beginning to give him strange looks. He could hardly blame them. He was creeping around like a thief looking for something to steal, cradling a strange wooden box in his arms. He’d be lucky if they didn’t call campus security on him.
He was about to walk back into the building for one last look around when something caught his eye.
No, that wasn’t right. It didn’t catch his eye. It was as though something compelled him to turn and look back, as though a soft voice had whispered from that direction, begging him to turn and see.
For a moment he didn’t see anything, just the sidewalk, some trees, the billowing white smoke of the power plant beyond, the darkening sky above. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing he couldn’t see walking out of any other building. But then he saw it, right there in plain sight, yet well hidden. He’d walked past so many of them. They were all over campus. It was the panic button.
These big red buttons were attached to six-foot posts all over campus and wired directly to the campus security headquarters in the administration building. In the event of an emergency, one push of this button would bring the campus police rushing to this location.
There were dozens of these buttons on campus, but no two were exactly identical. They each displayed a different number above the button, identifying the station. This particular button was number twelve.
It wasn’t a Z at all. It was a number two. A one and a two. Twelve .
Albert felt certain that this was the first of the three clues on this final side of the box, but he felt neither excited nor proud to have found it. Instead, he suddenly felt very creepy. What made him turn and look at the panic button in the first place? It was as though something reached into his head and made him see it.
No. That was preposterous. He simply saw it immediately, registered it subconsciously and then reacted to it a moment later. That was all.
Still, something felt very weird. Perhaps it wasn’t right. He walked over to the button and examined it. Except for the number twelve and the warning sign that hung beneath it, there was nothing. He turned and looked around him, convinced that this was the wrong solution after all. But then he found the second clue staring down at him from the roof of Juggers Hall. A tower rose up from the center of the roof and a large clock-face stared back at him. On that clock face, directly between roman numerals six and eight, was the second clue.
Albert stared up at the clock, unable to believe what he saw. What he did next he did almost without thinking. Standing in front of the number twelve panic button, he stared up at the clock and traced a straight line with his eyes from the center of the clock, past the seven and down to the ground. There, set into the concrete was a large metal plate, an entrance to the tunnel that ran beneath the sidewalk.
He walked over to this metal covering and found the final clue. Near
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