The Shipwreck: An Official Minecraft Novel Page 10

  The first time Jake saw the man, he’d pretended he was going to get the mail. GRANT, his name tag read, a round-faced guy with a ring of keys jangling on his belt. After a few days Jake’s figured out his schedule: Grant shows up at ten o’clock at night, and Jake once saw him leaving at six in the morning.

  During the day, they deliver items, and Dad is usually on-site as well, talking with Isabella and people wearing hard hats. Jake’s found a routine: He hangs out at home, unpacking and reading his comic books or surfing the Web. The crew usually leaves around four o’clock, and Dad generally has to stop by the design office for stuff, so Jake can sneak in a bit of time before he has to eat dinner with Dad. Sometimes after dinner he’ll try to get some time in before Grant gets there but it’s been tricky to navigate the timing. Jake’s used to being on his own for most of the week, but now Dad’s been making dinner and asking questions about his day, and keeps badgering him about when he wants to go see a Dodgers game.

  It’s weird. But nice.

  But also, Jake’s got a mystery to solve.

  He has to know the answer. Who put the riddles there? What does it mean? He’s only solved one of the clues so far, and he’s stuck trying to prepare for the next one. The whole thing has to lead to something big, something amazing. He knows he saw a mermaid, he’s sure of it. He hasn’t seen any others since then, but what if there are more?

  There was one huge mural in one of the villages he came across that was interesting. The designer took painstaking effort to build an incredible wall made out of different blocks of all colors and textures. Up close, it was just a cluster of color. But after trekking across the valley next to the village and climbing up a mountain, he can see the whole picture. From a distance, it almost looked like a painting. An entire city underwater, towers and monuments and mermaids, all under the shifting forest of kelp, bright sunshine shimmering through the water, chests filled with golden treasure, and gems glimmering everywhere.

  Jake remembers how he felt, standing on that mountaintop looking at the image of the underwater city, filled with awe. That’s the treasure at the end, he just knows it. Jake feels like an explorer in the old days, itching for adventure and treasure. He only just started here and he can’t lose the one interesting thing he has going on. No community center, no computer lab, no mysterious Minecraft server filled with mysteries. He can’t lose the secret of the server, not just yet. It doesn’t exist anywhere without the LAN and once that’s gone, who knows if he’ll ever find it again? This place, this refuge, the world of Minecraft—he has to solve the puzzle.

  Jake checks his watch; it’s already nine thirty. He wanted to get away earlier, but Dad really got into dinner and making it together—they baked a pizza, which actually turned out pretty good. Jake had a lot of fun picking out toppings and customizing his own pie, and making fun of Dad and his olives.

  Finally, once Dad was in his office again, Jake slipped away.

  He doesn’t have much time, but he can make good progress.

  Jake pads across the empty space toward the community center.

  In the distance, he sees the glow of a light.

  Jake freezes.

  No one else should be here. Grant isn’t on shift yet.

  A door opens from the other side and there’s the scuffle of shoes on the dusty concrete pavement. Jake tries to shift and hide behind the tractor, but his foot gets caught in the tread and he slips. His phone falls out of his pocket, clattering loudly against the ground.

  “Shark, is that you?”

  Jake squints and in the darkness he can make out a face and slicked-back hair. “Tank?” he asks in disbelief.

  He stands up awkwardly, relieved it’s not the security guard.

  Tank frowns at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Tank blinks, looking at his feet and then back at Jake before speaking slowly. “None of your business. Meeting up with my friends.” He glances outside. “I, uh—there’s a hill that’s supposedly haunted and we were going to check it out. Something a scaredy-cat like you would hate.” Tank folds his arms together. He looks menacing in the dark.

  “What kind of name is Shark?”

  “What kind of name is Jake?” Tank tosses back at him. “What are you doing, anyways?”

  “Nothing,” Jake says. Don’t look at the community center, don’t look at the community center, shoot—

  Tank follows his gaze. “No one’s supposed to be here.”

  “Just—just forget you ever saw me. You didn’t see me, okay?” Jake wants to yell in frustration. Is Tank going to wait here all night? He can’t go play Minecraft now. He guesses he could just go home. Maybe he could pretend to leave and watch and wait until Tank leaves?

  Tank grins at him. In the dark, all Jake can see are his teeth gleaming.

  “It’s gonna cost you.”

  “No way, I don’t have any money!”

  Footsteps.

  Jake’s heart leaps into his throat and he ducks behind the tractor, sinking into the dark. He squeezes in on himself, trying to make himself as small as possible.

  Tank glances behind himself and curses, turning around quickly, like he’s looking for an exit and thinking fast. Something falls out of his pocket and clatters to the floor with a loud metallic clank.

  To Jake’s horror, Tank heads right for him and his hiding spot. In the distant streetlight streaming through the community center, Jake can see the metal tool lying on the floor.

  “Why do you have a wrench?” Jake whispers in horror. “What were you going to do?”

  The footsteps get louder.

  “Nothing, I was just holding it,” Tank grunt-whispers. “Move over.”

  “No way, find somewhere else!”

  Tank’s already crouching down and Jake scoots over. If Tank gets caught, Jake won’t be far behind.

  The chain-link fence creaks like someone is pushing it aside to climb through. Jake would have thought the caution tape and the fence would have deterred people from using the fastest shortcut from the inside building through the courtyard to the side street, but he guesses not.

  From his hiding spot Jake can see a pair of teal sneakers tiptoe past the tractor, stop, and then a pair of hands with blue nail polish reach down and hastily grab something off the ground.

  The shuffling pauses.

  “Hello?”

  Jake peers over the tractor seat. In the scant light from the courtyard, he can just make out the face: the girl from the computer lab. What’s she doing here?

  Tank grabs his arm and squeezes in a warning.

  “Is someone here? Whoever you are, I just want you to know that I know krav maga!” She shifts, taking a fighting stance as she scans the room. She looks right past Tank and Jake’s hiding place, and Jake ducks out of view just in time. His heart pounds so loudly he’s afraid she can hear it.

  The community center doors facing the street open and close, and then a shot of cold white light flickers from inside the dark building. The beam flashes through the glass doors facing them and through the chain-link fence, and the girl freezes in her tracks.

  “Oh no—”

  She’s not supposed to be here, either. Wait, where is she—

  Jake realizes too late that the only hiding place is where he and Tank are already sitting in shadow behind the tractor. The light shifts again—it’s the unforgiving beam of a heavy-duty flashlight. Jake knows it well; his dad has quite a few of them. They’re only carried by construction people, security guards, and cops. None of these are good right now.

  Keys jingle. Boots clomp.

  Her face flickers with panic and then she’s there, wide-eyed as she stares at Jake and Tank.

  “Hey, what are you doing in there? This place is off-limits!” Grant pushes his way through the
fence, shining his light directly at her, still frozen.

  Everything stills for one moment: Jake frozen in his hiding place, Tank’s eyes widening with fear, the girl standing there in shock. It’s like they’ve paused the game right when a powerful monster is attacking in the middle of a battle they know they’re going to lose. The world is at a standstill, and then abruptly starts again. The flashlight darts from her to the tractor and then wiggles around and lands on Jake’s feet, and he knows he’s spotted.

  The security guard, Grant, stomps over. His mustachioed face is barely visible as the flashlight swivels up and around. The metal on his buckle and buttons gleams as he shakes the light at the three of them.

  “Uh, hello,” Jake says, as if he’s answering the phone, slipping into the polite script he automatically defaults to whenever someone invariably calls the landline his Dad installs in all their apartments. “How can I help you?”

  Tank elbows Jake and glares at him.

  Grant stares at them in disbelief, his mustache twitching. “You kids are in so much trouble.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TANK

  Tank considers running for it. He can probably make it. Grant isn’t very fast. Tank’s seen him this week just standing against the wall and not watching the construction site at all, his face illuminated by his phone. All he has to do is make a clean break when the guy isn’t looking.

  The only problem is Grant is standing right in front of them, and he’s already got his phone out and is chattering away.

  “Yeah, it’s three kids, I think they live here, definitely seen one of them skulking around.” Grant glares at Tank, and Tank hunches his shoulders, trying to appear smaller.

  Yep. Grant remembers him.

  It hadn’t really been funny, and Tank didn’t really want to get involved, but Shark had made a game of it on Wednesday night, sneaking behind Grant and stealing his keys off his belt.

  Grant huffed and puffed as he chased them around the complex and then halfway down the block, as the four of them laughed and tossed the keys back and forth to one another. Shark eventually got bored and tossed the keys into an empty parking lot before heading over to Fortress Park, laughing as Grant cursed at them.

  Tank found the keys later and left them by the counter in the lobby, hoping Grant would just forget about the whole thing and that Shark would move on, find another game.

  Grant has definitely not forgotten.

  Tank shifts awkwardly now with the full force of Grant’s stare on him. He always thought hanging out with tough guys like Shark was good for his reputation, that it meant no one would mess with him or Viv, but right now he doesn’t like how Grant’s looking at him. Like he’s a monster, an awful person.

  Tank looks down at his feet.

  He can’t help it if Grant hates him—some adults just do.

  “Yeah. Uh huh. Yeah, it’s one of those boys, the ones always causing trouble. And two other kids. From the complex, yeah, I think so.” Grant’s listening very intently to whoever is on the other end of the phone now. He puffs out his chest as he preens. Tank can barely hear the man on the other line but he can tell the other voice is annoyed and curt. “Yeah, I can do that for you. I’ll make sure they don’t go anywhere.” He glares at the three of them where they’re all standing in front of the tractor now, awaiting whatever punishment is to come.

  Great. Just great.

  Tank thinks he could make it if he gets back in the community center and goes through the stairwell that connects to the West Tower, but the girl from school and that mousy Jake kid are between him and that route. He could dart around the tractor to his right—the whole community center and construction site is fenced in, but it’s just chain-link. Tank could climb that easily.

  Grant continues to stare at the three of them as he makes another call. The shrill voice on the other end is familiar—it’s Old Woman Jenkins, the mean lady who owns the complex. Grant hangs up the phone and takes a step toward Tank and the others.

  Instinctively Tank finds himself stepping in front of the others. They’re smaller than he is, and something about the way the girl’s lip wobbled when the flashlight was on her reminds him of Vivian.

  Emily. That’s her name. She looks up at Tank, her eyes widening with fear. She glances to her left—the escape route Tank was eyeing—and looks back at Tank. Oh, she’s thinking about running, too. Good. Tank vaguely remembers her from school—she’s one of the pretty girls who hangs out with the crowd Shark always sneers at, think they’re too good for everyone and are stuck-up. Tank remembers seeing her during PE, flying around the track as they did laps for the fitness test. She’s fast. She could make it.

  She meets Tank’s gaze and gives him the slightest of nods. Tank grunts back at her, the barest of acknowledgments. He doesn’t know her. He doesn’t really know anyone outside of Shark’s friends, and even then he can’t say he knows them, either. But if they’re going to run, they’re going to need to do it now.

  This Jake kid, though. Tank doesn’t know about him. The kid is frozen, staring up at Grant. Whatever, Tank doesn’t have time for this. He can stay here and be punished—

  Great. Jake is blocking the way. He’s standing right between Tank and Emily and the path to freedom. Tank could shove past him, but he doesn’t really like the idea much at all. It’s a Shark move, and he doesn’t want people to be really afraid of him. Maybe he’s gonna have to—

  No. He’ll go the other way.

  Tank catches Emily’s eye and then looks quickly to his right, as if to say, I’m going that way. You can follow if you want, but you’re on your own if you get caught.

  He takes a step to the right.

  “Don’t even think about it, buddy.” Grant shines the light directly on him and takes a step forward, blocking his path. “I’ve already called Ellen and the project manager and they’re on the way.”

  Jake pales. “Wait, no—”

  A door opens and shuts nearby—the apartment unit next to the community center. Ellen Jenkins appears, shuffling forward in her slippers and a mold-colored bathrobe. Her flyaway salt-and-pepper hair is done up in curlers.

  She fixes her beady eyes on the three kids, her cold gaze all-knowing as she takes them in. “Thank you, Grant, for letting me know.”

  “Just doing my job, ma’am. Do you want me to call the cops? I already called Mr. Thomas.” Grant grins vindictively at Tank. “Actions have consequences. I know your type. You’re always breaking the rules, always ignoring the curfew, walking on the grass, lurking in the courtyard. Now you’re going to have to face the music.” His voice is so cold that Tank swears the temperature drops a few degrees.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Mrs. Jenkins says. “This is my building—”

  “Mr. Thomas is my boss, he said to wait for him before I take any action, but it sounded like he wanted to press charges.”

  “You called Mr. Thomas first?” Mrs. Jenkins asks, her eyebrows knitting together.

  “Ye-es?” Grant looks down at his feet.

  “How dare you. I am still in charge of this building, I’m the one giving you a paycheck—”

  “Technically he hired me for this job to watch the site at night, and uh, you cut back my hours last month because you said you didn’t need a doorman, so right now he’s the one paying me, and this construction site is his, of course I called him first—”

  Tank sprints to his right, trying to take advantage of the argument to get away. He feels the cold concrete beneath his feet, pushing off and picking up speed as he darts around the tractor, his pulse racing in his ears. He sees the fence ahead and the sweet taste of freedom behind it. He grabs the chain links, the metal digging into his fingers. He pulls himself up and tries to wedge his shoe into a fence link, but it’s one of those cheap fences that wobbles and it’s not stable enough for him to get a good f
oothold. Great, he’ll have to go around—there, a gap. Tank wrenches his foot out from the fence and runs.

  Behind him, he can hear quick exhales and footsteps. Emily must have followed him.

  Tank turns back just to see—both she and Jake are running. Fine, whatever, Tank’s not responsible for them, he just needs to get away. He can’t be caught; Shark’s told him so many stories about juvie and he thinks about records and he can’t lose time, he has work and has to help Ma and—

  FLOMP.

  Tank’s collided with something solid—no, someone.

  He falls backward, wincing as he lands on the cold concrete, sending up sawdust and bits of drywall everywhere. He coughs, looking up, and freezes.

  “Hold up there. Where do you think you’re going?”

  A middle-aged balding man wearing a crisp blue shirt buttoned up the wrong way stares down at him. Despite the dress shirt and slacks, he’s got the look of someone who’s used to working with his hands, with broad shoulders and a calculating stare. He offers Tank a callused hand. It feels like a trap but Tank would rather not be on the ground when everyone else is standing.

  He takes the hand, and the man pulls him to his feet with a viselike grip.

  “Now, what’s all this I hear about vandalizing the construction site?”

  “It’s these three, Mr. Thomas,” Grant says, huffing as he catches up to them. Mrs. Jenkins isn’t far behind, shuffling after them, her bathrobe trailing behind her like a cape.

  The man—Mr. Thomas—looks Tank over with a scrutinizing eye, and then he spots Emily behind him, and then his gaze settles on Jake.

  “Jake?”

  Jake offers an awkward small wave. “Hi, Dad.”

  Oh.

  Tank freezes. This is bad, right? This is awful. He doesn’t want to see this. If it was his dad—

  Mrs. Jenkins wheezes as she catches up to them.

  “You see these troublemakers? Caught them red-handed, I did. We’ve got evidence, too.” Grant holds up the wrench and waves it at Mr. Thomas.