by J. S. Volpe
* * *
When Lucifer and Marcy came to the mouth of Ghost Gulch, they ran into Mr. Sand and Mr. Stone, who were heading into the gulch.
Their tumble to the forest floor had left Mr. Sand and Mr. Stone quite the worse for wear. Mr. Sand now walked with a pronounced limp, and the back of his shirt was torn down the middle. Mr. Stone had a nasty gash above his right eyebrow and walked slowly and stiffly, for he’d pulled something in his lower back.
“You might as well go home,” Lucifer told them. “It’s all over. You were out of your league anyway. I mean, there was the giant worm that made everybody sing and dance, and the cloud of metal bugs, and the big guy from the bar who turned into a whole bunch of little guys who ran around and screamed and exploded—”
“What about the gold?” asked Mr. Stone. “Who got the gold?”
Lucifer frowned. “You know, I’m not sure…”
“That’s because it happened while you were unconscious,” Marcy said. “It was the Ajin girl, the one who was a member of the Yellow Pawns—”
“Except that she wasn’t,” Lucifer interjected. “I think she was actually a Nünite. She had to be; she sang a song about chaos. Anyway, we gotta go. It’s a long way back to Bangle.”
He strode off, Marcy flying alongside him.
Mr. Sand and Mr. Stone watched them go for a moment, then looked at each other.
“Well now,” said Mr. Stone, “I must say that it’s quite a good thing we didn’t place any wagers on the outcome of this endeavor.”
“Quite so,” said Mr. Sand. “There was no way of predicting how this ended. I suppose that in the final analysis there is no way of predicting how anything will end. The universe always surprises us.”
“That almost sounds like a moral, Mr. Sand.”
“Hm.” Mr. Sand frowned a little and pursed his lips while he pondered this. “Perhaps it is, Mr. Stone. Perhaps it is.” He sighed. “Ah, well. The young man was right: It is a long way back to Bangle. We’d best get moving.”