The section of the ship where we ate was called the Mess Hall by the crew, and a massive wooden table and chairs filled the room and made it feel cramped. After the food was served (steak, shrimp, and potatoes) and we all dug in, Joseph kept talking about the note from the bottle, and how something from it was tugging at his memory, driving him crazy. We were no help, and soon Joseph drifted off into silent contemplation.

  For the umpteenth time since our ocean quest had begun, I looked around the huge round table at all of my companions. Mom sat next to me, a look of worry an absolute constant on her face. Rusty was next, devouring his third helping of steak and shrimp, oblivious to the line of sauce dripping off his chin. Then sat Dad, wondering aloud at the fate of poor Mr. Millstone, stuck on that island so many years ago.

  Miyoko ate with quiet reserve next to my dad while her eyes remained fixed on an indeterminate point across the room. Her father, Tanaka, sat next to her, his lack of table manners matched only by his bad jokes. They, along with Rayna, were also members of The Alliance. I wondered again if either of them had special powers like some of the other members of that group.

  Then there was The Hooded One. Hood. The man who couldn't speak, but painted with his finger. The man who could travel in an instant by way of a red hula hoop. The man who had been through so much, and who had become such a close friend. As had Rayna, sitting next to Hood. She had the ability to manipulate photographs to show the future. It could be a downright spooky gift.

  Then there was Joseph. Twice we had lost him, and both times he had come back. We hoped that this was one thing that didn't end up coming in threes, like plane crashes. I still felt that Joseph knew a lot that he wasn't telling us about, but I tried not to push him too hard for information. Sometimes there was such a thing as too much knowledge, and it was enough burden just thinking about the next task in our mission: finding the Third Gift.

  Captain Drake, or Tinkles, and the rest of his crew ate with us sometimes, but usually kept pretty much to themselves. I was glad for that, because it was very uncomfortable talking about things in front of them. Tanaka spoke, jostling me from my train of thought.

  “Hey Jimmy-san, you seem very quiet tonight. Make it much harder for me to make funny jokes about stupid things you say. What's wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I took a sip of my drink. “I'm just thinking about all of us, and wondering if we're going to float in the ocean for the rest of our lives.”

  Tanaka was just about to spew forth an interminable comment when Joseph slammed his fist on the table and stood up, revelation spread all over his face. Everyone's dishes jumped and clattered at the sudden thump, and Mom yelped in surprise.

  “Joseph,” she said, “what's wrong?”

  Without saying a word, he ran out of the room.

  “Ah!” Tanaka shouted, after Joseph left the Mess Hall. He pointed his finger up into the air. “Joseph no wait when he gotta go, neh?”

  Not even sure we knew what Tanaka was talking about, a couple of us gave a slight courtesy laugh, but we were mostly enthralled by Joseph's strange behavior. Dad was just scooting his chair from the table to follow when Joseph sprang back into the room. The yellowed and dated note was in his hand, his face lit with excitement. He must have finally realized what had been nagging at his mind.

  Joseph grabbed his chair, dragged it around the table, and placed it next to my dad. Then he went back to the door and yelled for Captain Tinkles to come down. Joseph came and sat next to Dad, and soon the captain joined us, wondering what in the heck all the fuss was about.

  “Okay, okay.” Joseph paused, and put his hands together and brought them to his lips, as if gathering his wits to explain something of great importance to all of us.

  “All right, J.M., read this note again.”

  Joseph handed the note to my dad, and with a questioning look, Dad did as he was told.

  “Uh, please come find me … I am stranded … small island, blah, blah, blah, David Millstone.”

  Dad handed the note back to Joseph, who looked like Dad had just called him a big dumpy dopey head.

  “Excuse me, Mr. J.M. Fincher, you just blah, blah, blahed over the one part that I intended to point out. Now come on, humor me for a second, and read it again. Geez, you're getting as bad as Tanaka the puke magnet over there.” He jerked a thumb at Tanaka, who was trying his darnedest to retaliate with a comeback but, for once, came up empty.

  Dad took the note back. “All right, sorry, it's just that we've all read this note a million times.” He cleared his throat, and read the note word for word.

  “Please come find me … I am stranded … small island, 40 miles west of IDL … the place where yesterday meets to- morrow … 32 degrees latitude … David Millstone.”

  Joseph took the note back. “We have all been feeling sorry for this guy, knowing that we could do nothing for him. This is true—hopefully someone else saved him after he threw this bottle into the ocean. But we completely ignored his directions to the island on which he was stranded.”

  He sat back, and crinkled his brow, which set off an assortment of strange wrinkles on his hairless head.

  “Okay,” Dad said, “what are you saying? We should go to this island?”

  “No, no, no, not at all.” Joseph turned and looked at the captain. “Captain, uh, Tinkles,” (Joseph was as uncomfortable with the silly name as I was), “we have all ignored the term ‘IDL’ that was in the note. Can you tell us what that means?”

  “Well, that's easy, my friend.” His voice was the sound of gravel being poured into a foundation. “It stands for International Date Line—some have given it the nickname that the note referred to. The place where yesterday meets tomorrow. His directions would make it very easy to spot the island he was stranded on.”

  Joseph stood up and began to pace around the table.

  “International Date Line. Captain, explain to us what that means, what it is.”

  Tinkles acted happy to show off his wisdom on such things. “The IDL is the place in the world where the day officially changes from one to the next. In other words, it's where Sunday becomes Monday.”

  Rusty was confused, and asked the captain what he meant. Okay, I was confused, too, and was glad that Rusty spoke up.

  “All right, lad, think about time changes and time zones. As you move west to east, it gets later and later, hour by hour, as you enter the next time zone, one by one, correct?”

  Rusty nodded.

  “Well, the world has twenty-four time zones. If you didn't have the International Date Line, you would just keep getting later and later as you continued to travel around the world, eh, for infinity? The IDL is the place in the world, a theoretically drawn line, defined and agreed upon by the countries of the world, where you actually switch days.” The captain drew an invisible line in the air, and then pointed to one side of it. “On the east side of the Line, say it was noon on Monday.” He pointed to the opposite side of his invisible line. “On the west side of the line, it would be noon on Tuesday. Oh … dolphin-burgers, I never realized how difficult it can be to explain.”

  Joseph slapped the captain on the back. “Nah, that was pretty darn good, actually. That's why some people call it ‘the place where yesterday meets tomorrow.’ Do you get it, Rusty? Jimmy? Tanaka?” Tanaka grumbled at being included with the kids in the question.

  Rusty and I looked at each other, and then nodded. It seemed to make sense, although it was a bit confusing.

  “Now for the kicker,” Joseph said, a proud look on his face. It was the look of someone who had finally won Monopoly after a ten-hour marathon game. “What if you could literally stand on this theoretical line, straddle it, with one foot on one side, and the other foot on the other side?”

  He was met with a mixture of looks, most of them confused.

  “The Tower of Three Days, my friends. The tower where it can be three days at the same time.”

  I felt like things were almost making sense, but it still eluded me, like trying to see out of a frosted window in the car.

  Dad interjected, also on the cusp of understanding.

  “I can see where it could be two days at the same time, if you straddled the line, I guess. But where are you getting the third day?”

  “Well,” Joseph replied, “it sounds crazy, but I'm confident that I'm right. Look.” He sprung up onto the table, his head brushing the ceiling. There was a crack down the middle of the table, a place to separate if you wanted to move it. Joseph put his feet on opposite sides of the crack. He then gestured to each side.

  “Okay, this side of me is Monday, where my right foot is, and this side of me is Tuesday, where my left foot is.”

  “Right, two days,” said Dad.

  “No, don't think of it that way!” Joseph replied, with a hint of frustration at not being able to explain himself as well as he would like. “To my left foot, the right foot is in ‘yesterday.’ To my right foot, the left foot is in ‘tomorrow.’ To both feet, they think they are in ‘today.’ Yesterday, today, and tomorrow. My body would be in all three days at the same time. If this ‘Tower’ straddles the International Date Line, it would be as well. We know the Tower is in the ocean, where most of the IDL is located.”

  We stared, letting it sink in. It seemed to click for all of us at the same time. Joseph was right. How could yesterday meet tomorrow without a today squeezed in the middle? He jumped down off the table.

  “I say we head for the Line and travel along its path. Hopefully we'll meet the Tower of Three Days more sooner than later. Sound feasible, Captain?”

  “Aye. It would be easy to maintain a path traveling along the Line. I'll alter our course right away.”

  The words were barely out of the captain's mouth before everything changed in a chilling instant.

  A frightful scream came from above, on the decks. It was the terrified yell of one of the crew. Without hesitation, we all headed for the door and climbed the short staircase out into the open air.

  The night was dark, more so than usual because of a storm that had begun to creep into the area. The air was wet with mist. The man screamed again, and we saw him standing near the railing on the far side of the boat, pointing to the sky.

  We could not see the object of his frightened attention.

  But a sudden and dreadful sound filled the air. I felt my heart pause before it set to racing.

  It was the clanking sound of metallic teeth.

  Captain Tinkles sprinted to the main cabin, and seconds after he entered, the place blazed to life with lights. Like dawn on a battlefield, the light brought forth the horrors of the day. In staggered silence, we stared at the skies above us.

  From the cloudy north, a writhing entity was approaching, a rolling black cloud of shifting shapes. At first it looked like a disorganized mass of limbs and shadow and wings and eyes. Long, rope-like things were waving back and forth, hanging from the bottom of the cloud.

  Then, the cloud separated, and took on definition.

  Gray and black creatures with wings. Bodies that were trapped somewhere between human and beast, wings outstretched behind them, black as onyx, flapping with determination and purpose. Eddies of mist were spreading behind each creature as they approached. Black eyes stared out of gray faces.

  The Shadow Ka.

  There was no longer any doubt concerning the words of Raspy, spoken in the Pointing Finger, that the Ka were evolving. In the weeks since our last confrontation, that evolution had seemed to quicken. It wouldn't be long before these hybrids of human and Ka were the full-fledged beasts of shadow I had encountered in the Blackness. Squeezing fists of hopeless fear made my stomach twist, and I wanted to sink to my knees.

  Their skin was gray, with thick, black veins stretching and branching throughout, as if the shadow substance was taking over bit by bit. Their eyes were an empty black, and parts of their body seemed to shimmer now and then, looking empty for an instant before coming back again. My eyes were having a difficult time convincing my brain that they weren't fibbing, that these things were really there, coming at us with an inexplicable hate.

  As they approached, the source of the rattling, metallic clatter became clear. Each Ka had a long chain wrapped around its neck, the two ends swaying back and forth, banging into each other, making an eerie clanking sound.

  The first Ka landed on the ship, its feet coming down with a soft thump, the ends of its chain banging loudly then rattling as it slid to a stop. The Ka folded its wings back until they almost disappeared and then looked around with vengeance in its eyes. Others soon followed, the thumping sounds of their grotesque feet and the disturbing rattle of the chains accompanying them. The folding of their wings made a soft airy sound, like a paper fan being folded and put away.

  I didn't notice the lack of their trademark scream until a Ka finally let one out with a piercing screech, which reminded me all too well. The other Ka seemed to answer as one, and soon the thunderous noise of their cries blistered the air.

  Twenty or so had landed, with many more staying in the air, circling the yacht like vultures awaiting their prey to finally die before coming in for the feast. The thought made me quiver as I realized that just might be the case.

  The spectacle before us must have been as hypnotic as it was terrifying, because not one of us had moved a muscle since coming out into the open, except for the captain, who had never returned from the main cabin. I looked around me.

  My heart leapt into my throat.

  Every one of my companions, everyone, had their eyes closed, swaying back and forth like pine trees in the wind. Rayna and my dad collapsed to the deck, falling limp and rolling over like dropped rag dolls. Then my mom fell. Then Rusty. The terror and confusion of seeing them drop made a bile soup in my gut. Tanaka fell. Miyoko fell. They all lay there like it was afternoon nap time, although their positions didn't look very comfortable.

  Finally, Joseph fell.

  I looked back at the Shadow Ka, one of whom was walking toward me, a wicked grin splitting his gray, vein-filled face. Then the strangest thing happened.

  I felt an overwhelming urge to go to sleep.

  A black haze appeared before my eyes, spots of all colors dancing in the shadows. Every part of me wanted nothing but the quiet escape of slumber, to lie down right then and there and fall fast asleep. My knees became weak, and I felt the fear drain out of me.

  The Shadow Ka stopped three feet in front of me. I could barely make him out, my vision giving in to the desire to rest. The Ka screamed. It had a strange pitch—different from any other time I'd heard it.

  I don't recall if I had ever been quite so close to one when it screamed. The violent sound exploded through my head, ripping the sleepy feeling out of me in an instant, like being doused with ice water to keep you awake. I was left with no trace of the strange sensation—it was completely gone. I was wide awake, back in the clutches of fear.

  I looked down. Everyone was awake, pushing themselves up into a standing position, their faces creased with confusion.

  The Shadow Ka spoke. Its voice was harsh and low, with a slight sneer to it.

  “Not yet. No, not yet. The time for that will come soon enough.”

  His words made no sense, but the evil in them was palpable.

  “You are Jimmy Fincher?” he asked me, his tone revealing that it was a rhetorical question. “I have a proposal. We are here to take you and your comrades back with us. Will you come, or will you make this difficult?”

  So much for introductions.

  Instead of answering, I blew him off the ship with a swift burst of Ice, the second Gift I had received from the Givers. It no longer took effort, only thought. Exploding from my hand with a swoosh of frosty air, the solid block of ice formed and crashed into him, hurtling him hundreds of feet out into the ocean. We heard no splash.

  An instant later, the remaining Ka took off into the air, their great wings creating a miniature hurricane as they all beat in urgent unison. In seconds, they were gone into the mist, their screams dulled by the wet air.

  As they left, I thought about what the leader had said. They had come to negotiate? It made no sense, but my use of the Ice had been the definitive answer they'd not wanted. So they left in a rush of dark wind.

  But we knew they would be back.

  A few minutes later, we were gathered in the Mess Hall again, with two main topics to discuss. One, the surprise visit from our archenemy. Two, what on earth happened out there with the sleepy thing? Its oddness was only matched by how unsettling it was. What if the Ka had developed some strange method of hypnosis?

  “Let's talk about what we all felt right before we collapsed to the ground,” Dad said. “I know for me, it all happened very fast. A sudden surge of fear ripped through my body when I saw that first half-man, half-Ka thing land on our ship, and the next thing I knew, blackness filled my vision and I was falling. It was like my whole system just shut down—like someone flipped off my power switch.”

  “Same for me,” said Miyoko. Her voice revealed a slight twinge of doom, like she could not make herself recover from the ordeal. As it was, she had been so quiet all night that I couldn't help but wonder if something was troubling her, something besides what had just happened outside.

  Joseph spoke next. “For me it was when I heard the first scream. It brought back the memory of the Blackness, when I was taken by that hoard of Ka when you blocked the Black Curtain, Jimmy.” He looked at me, his face pale from the memory. “It reminded me of that horrible place—the black, gooey face. My heart almost stopped from fear, and then everything faded into darkness. I don't remember falling.”

  Tanaka coughed, and made a gesture to let us know he was speaking next. Despite the circumstances, or, knowing Tanaka, perhaps because of them, he made his best attempt at a joke.