“Well, you can’t all four be the ones from the wall,” said Va’hut, eating his tape measure. “In any case, you five are perfect specimens. Where did you come from? How did you get here? Never mind, we’ll have time for that back at my lab. First, we need—”

  The crack of thunder that exploded between us sent everyone reeling, with only dinosaur snot to cushion our blow. If you’ve ever heard a pterodactyl sneeze before, I’m incredibly sorry, and I wish you the very best on your road to recovery.

  “Oh, oh no,” Va’hut sniffled. “It seems I may be... how is this possible... allergic to humanoids?”

  Blayde wasn’t the hypoallergenic type. She grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, lifting him an entire foot off the ground, snarling as he shrieked like a schoolgirl.

  We didn’t have time for this. I ripped out a clump of hair. Shit. The Dread was growing stronger by the second.

  “Warrior queen!” Va’hut squawked, before sneezing again. “Please! Don’t touch me! I don’t have any allergy meds!”

  “Then speak,” she said, “or you’ll be sneezing grey matter through your nostrils next. Where did you hear about us?”

  “They thought it was nonsense,” he chirped. “The fellowship at the university. They thought it was all scribbles. I interpreted it. They didn’t believe me. Now I have evidence—”

  “Take me to the scribbles!” she shouted, shaking him again, forcing a new sneeze out of him and discomfort out of the rest of us. She was terrifying, even with green spittle running down her hair. “We don’t have any time to waste!”

  “The wall, the wall! At the dig! Don’t kill me!”

  She dropped him, and he scampered quickly to his feet, panting. He wiped his now-red nose on his sleeve.

  “Lead us,” she said. “And hurry, we don’t have much time! The end of the universe is here!”

  He sighed, waving us with him down the gravel path. “Well, you don’t have to be so dramatic. But keep your distance. If I get any more of your dander on me...”

  I probably would have enjoyed sightseeing a world where dinosaurs had evolved to the point where they had cars and TV, but the Dread was resonating so hard now that my hands couldn’t stay still. I spent the entire walk focusing on not screaming and starting a riot instead of admiring the statues of pterodactyl heroes riding giant worms or the billboards of scantily clad winged models. I have never felt such confusion in my loins before.

  “You’re going to have to share laps,” said Va’hut. “My car’s a little small.”

  Why a pterodactyl would drive anywhere when they could fly, I would never know. Blayde sat up front, still scowling the whole time, as the four of us stacked into the back. We set off into the night, driver’s window open so our driver could avoid a sneezing-crashing catastrophe.

  “Hey, look,” said James, pointing at a hallway billboard that featured her sea-beast admirer. “I can’t follow anything, but I think they have Jaws 3?”

  Va’hut took us out of the gleaming city and into a nearby forest, one lit by massive floodlights. We spilled out of the car, weapons at the ready, as he led us past the ropes and into a dig site, following the wooden path into a canvas tent which protected an elevator. He pressed a button, covered his nose, and slowly, it began to lower us to the mysterious prophecy.

  “We’re here,” he said, pushing the gate open and urged us out. Hitting a switch with his elbow, the cavern overflowed with light, a huge vaulted ceiling extending over our heads, an old stone pavement under our feet. My feet tread over familiar ground, where just yesterday I’d fought a sea serpent and survived. I would have gasped, only my teeth were too busy gritting themselves dull.

  “What is this place?” Sidera asked, crouching down to feel the cobbles with her fingertips.

  “You tell me,” said Va’hut, then added quickly. “Please? It’s not every day history falls into your lap.”

  “It’s the temple,” Blayde gasped. “Miro’s temple. Nimien’s bubble-universe-bunker.”

  “It was here even before the invention of fire,” said Va’hut, beaming. His nose was so stuffy now that half his words were muffled. “Built by a now-extinct civilization of humanoids.”

  Blayde raced past him, running her hands over the stone face, nodding. She turned back to us with a stern line in lieu of a smile.

  “Over here is where it predicted your arrival,” Va’hut said, face going a different shade of red. “Not an easy feat, translating it. It took me three years and fifteen false starts—”

  “What’s behind this?” Blayde asked, knocking lightly on the structure. “Did you give it a sonar scan? Let me guess—are you going to blow it up?”

  “What, no!” he squawked. “We thought it was a calendar or a day planner. We had no idea there was anything behind it, we thought—”

  “Good.” She flipped a knife out from under her sleeve, snapping it open and holding it over her hand. “Now, get back into the elevator and return from whence you came. We have a few rituals to perform, so please, leave us in peace.”

  Va’hut’s eyes went wide, his mouth spreading into an even wider smile. My god, so many teeth. “Rituals?”

  Blayde raised her hands to the heavens. “We’re going to sacrifice that girl to the sand lord, to ensure that my people can safely take back their land.”

  “Yo.” I replied, waving my hand.

  “What?” cried Va’hut. “No, the prophecies never foretold this! You were meant to bring peace!”

  “Oh, we are bringing peace,” said Blayde. “Peace for our peoples! Tremble, for I am the warrior queen! Run from me, mortal!”

  The worst part is I couldn’t tell if she believed it. She was convincing. That, or the Dread that suffused the air, giving that extra bit of spice.

  Va’hut didn’t need to be told twice. He raced for the elevator, screaming in between sneezes, slamming the little gate shut.

  “You’ve got to stop that,” said Zander. “It’ll probably traumatize him for life.”

  “Fine, if you say so.” Blayde shrugged. “Now, everybody, step back. These doors haven’t opened for centuries. There’s no saying what’ll happen. Darling doors, will you please let us in?”

  They pulled back slowly, showing the way into the dark interior of the labyrinth, stopping with a huge crashing sound. Instantly, a wave of putrid, rotting air hit us in the face.

  “I guess that monster died eventually.” Blayde shrugged, watching her hand heal. “Right, Sidera, what now? Any genius ideas to defeat the Dread come to you on the drive over?”

  “Don’t worry,” she cooed, striding into the dark maze, “I can take if from here. We already have everything we need—and more. This bunker was the last detail, and you were so kind to give me the address. Thank you for the ride. Now, if you move fast, I’m pretty sure you can enjoy one last ice cream before the end of the Universe.”

  I gotta admit, I had not seen that coming. Maybe I should have since she had lied to us before. Sidera stood in the maze’s atrium, wiping the blood and dried tears from her smiling face with a little wet wipe, as Desmond brushed past us to join her there.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  So Many Twists at this Point, I Was Rung Out Like a Washcloth

  Each of us could easily have become a new meme in that moment. A mixture of shock and disappointment—mainly disappointment, since we were too tired to be shocked—our jaws were caught at some point between resting and the floor.

  Sidera. Sidera and Desmond.

  “Oh, come now, don’t look so surprised,” said Desmond. “It’s only me.”

  “We got that part,” said Zander. “I’m reasonably convinced our shock is more personal. Over, you know, how we could have all been duped again.”

  Desmond and Sidera high-fived, then swung around so they were leaning back-to-back, Disney Channel original style. It was groan worthy, but I was dying for a drink and didn’t waste the effort.

  James didn’t give a single shit. She aimed and fired two laser blasts right at each of them, screaming. Blasts I could imagine would have found their targets easily, if it weren’t for the force field between us. The beams bounced off the invisible barrier, ricocheting off to scorch the cavern walls.

  “How did you find us?” I snapped, glaring at Desmond.

  He shrugged. “I followed you, of course. It’s not like it was hard.”

  “We’re twins,” Sidera said matter-of-factly. “We shared a womb. Entangled on the genetic level. We can find each other across entire galaxies. What? You seriously thought I came along to help?”

  My body shook, every muscle trembling. Be it from the Dread or from the absolute horror of being so close only for the rug to be ripped out from under you... my legs refused to be legs.

  “Seeing as it was your father’s dying wish, I mean, yeah?” I said. “It would have made a lot more sense.”

  “Oh! Are you playing both sides?” Zander clapped, grinning. “Is this like that trope where you have two dates to prom and had to keep juggling your time between them only for them both to meet and everything go sideways? Except, you know, with the destruction of the universe instead of prom?”

  “No, stupid.” Sidera laughed. “I was here to ensure my brother succeeds. That we succeed. Together.”

  “And that plan included murdering your father?” I gripped Zander’s hand, desperate for stability, but he shook even harder than me. “You’re a convincing actress, Sidera.”

  “Why, thank you,” she said with a curtsey. “My father had outlived his usefulness. His time was up, even he agreed. We were a mercy. He died doing what he loved—thinking he was the smartest bitch in the room. And saving his daughter. If you think about it, we gave him a redemption arc.”

  “All while getting him out of the way of what comes next,” added Desmond. “We couldn’t have him even remotely possibly surviving through to the next world.”

  “Same goes for you,” said Sidera, indicating all of us with a smooth, flat hand, like a host of a game show. “But we needed access to the bunker, so we couldn’t let you implode like we initially planned.”

  “You’re psychopaths.” Blayde shook her head. “You are, I can see that now.”

  I cringed at her words. They had manipulated us from the start, learning from their father’s past mistakes in order to create the perfect trap, for whatever nefarious reason two young immortals with the universe at their fingertips could possibly have.

  “No. We’re the only sane things in this universe,” said Desmond. “Which is why it has to go.”

  Blayde expelled a heavy sigh. “Stars above. They want to take over the universe. Brilliant.”

  “Take it over?” Sidera scoffed. “This universe sucks ragoon balls, have you seen it? No way. We’re not taking over it; we’re dismantling it. It’ll be better for everyone, trust me.”

  “This reality, like our father, has outlived its usefulness.” Desmond folded his hands behind his back. “It can no longer be fixed with small changes. They say that’s when you need to build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete. But we find that just blowing the existing model up and starting from scratch is much more promising.”

  “Well, dumbass, I have a little flaw with your plan,” said James. She still had her blaster riveted on the siblings—the universe-killing siblings—even after what has just happened. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re a part of the universe, too. So, if you blow that up—”

  “Hate to break it to you,” said Desmond, “but we’re not—currently—part of your universe at all. Did dear old dad tell you why this place is called a bunker?”

  “It’s a bubble universe,” said Sidera. “Like the labyrinth, except better because it’s not full of old-man cooties.”

  “Thanks to you, we have access to the final thing we needed: a safe place to ride out the destruction of everything. Once this universe is done imploding, we’ll get to watch the Bigger, Better Bang—trademark pending—and nudge everything to our liking. It’ll be glorious!”

  “No more unicorns policing the upper dimensions.” Sidera clenched her fist. “Keeping us from fixing what needs to be fixed. And best of all, no more you tying knots in the timestream, ruining it for the rest of us.”

  My head screamed and screamed and screamed. We were almost there, at the end of the universe. Wasting time arguing with those who wanted it gone.

  “So that’s what this is about?” said Zander. “Your application for godship was refused?”

  “You can apply?” Desmond laughed. “No matter. We’ve watched the universe tread on our father our entire lives. We kept our heads low since birth. No more. Our time is now—and now it belongs to us. Or it will, when the Dread reaches crescendo.”

  “I meant what I said earlier,” said Sidera. “There’s still time for ice cream.”

  “Father always said he could count on you to stop the Dread.” Desmond snorted. “Even though we’ve been planning this since we were, what, five?”

  “Four and a half,” said Sidera. “Though you know how time flows in a prison.”

  “We needed to find the weapon he left for you,” said Desmond. “And we still have the time. There’s less than an hour until the Dread is finally tuned everywhere, all at once, and it can’t be stopped now.”

  “But there is no weapon,” I said. “This has all been for nothing.”

  “Of course, we had—just as you did—assumed that Father was just being cryptic,” said Sidera. “He said you were the weapon, but when we found the old labyrinth files, we saw that stoner boy was leaving with a lot more than just blueprints. We know that it was an actual weapon.”

  “I’ve never been gladder to be wrong,” Sidera cheered, glaring at Blayde. “Here’s the weapon, rendered useless. Now nothing will stand in our way.”

  With a grin, they both stepped back, Desmond with his gun riveted on us, Sidera with her hand hovering over a switch by the door. And with a last, simultaneous cheer of victory, the door slammed shut, locking us in the small atrium with no hope of escape.

  I scowled. No hope of escape? There was always hope, wasn’t there?

  There’s hope. There’s hope. There’s hope.

  It’s all I could do to say those two words over and over, a jetty against the crashing waves of despair. We would probably survive this—no, we would survive this. I had met my future self, been friends with a friend of our future selves. We would survive. We could hang out in the past eternally if we wanted to.

  But the universe could still end here, now. Which meant my family would die hating me, not knowing the truth about me. And I would never be able to see them again, ever, ever again.

  That and a few trillion lives would be lost, too. Priorities, Sally, Priorities.

  “Well, I didn’t see that coming,” said Zander. “Did any of you?”

  “I did,” said Blayde.

  “And you didn’t do anything?”

  “I wanted to see how it played out. Sue me,” she said, shrugging.

  “You wanted to—” Zander took a deep breath. Inhaled. Exhaled. His arms were red with scratch marks. “Right. One hour until the end of the universe, and we’re on the wrong side of a door we can’t jump through. Thoughts?”

  “Ice cream?” said James. “If this is hopeless, I’d sure like to implode with Rocky Road in my stomach.”

  “Pavement is never the answer,” said Blayde. “We need to climb in through the window.”

  “The window?” I asked. “You mean the one overlooking the sea we almost used as a way out? The one that’s now buried under a kilometer of dirt?”

  “Yup,” she said. “But don’t worry, we can get someone else to do the digging.”

  “In less than an hour?” I said. “The pterodactyls seem to have lost their affinity for flying through sand, Blayde. That and there hasn’t been sand around here since they invented the wheel.”

  “They’ll need a few years,” she replied, grinning. “It feels so good to be in tune again. Is this how you’ve been feeling since we made you, Sally? Just one moment.”

  Blayde didn’t go anywhere. She just... changed. In a heartbeat—well, if we still had them—she had changed clothes, gained a tan, and traded her shoes for roller skates. She also seemed happier now, like she’d been injected with pure joy.

  “The exit’s been excavated,” she said, taking dainty lace gloves off her hands. “And off we go!”

  Before we could even ask, she’d grabbed us all and jumped the bunch of us to a dirt well, lit only by a tiny electric lantern held by a seemingly terrified pterodactyl. Not a very wide space, I should mention, as we were all crammed together in Blayde’s bear hug, and her letting go made no difference.

  “You did amazing, Jacobi,” said Blayde, planting a kiss on the pterodactyl’s long snout, which made him turn a bright shade of red. “Your mother would be so proud.”

  Jacobi nodded, handed her a bag, and turned to the ladder behind him, climbing up and away without another word.

  “Three years, and not once did he accept that he’s worthy of his parents’ love,” she said, reaching in the bag to pull out small pouches for each of us. My packet was cold, icy to the touch.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “Ice cream,” she replied. “You said you wanted some, if I remember right. Now come on, once we’re inside, we don’t have much time to mess around.”

  We stepped through the exit window, only a slight crackle in the ancient speakers to signal anything had happened. I was ready for my heart to start back up this time, breathing as it took over the job of keeping my body alive. Good old, faithful heart. Blayde was right. We deserved ice cream. It was creamy but smelled of smoked bacon, and I didn’t think too hard about the chewy bits inside. It tasted good, and I didn’t want to ruin it, especially if it might be the last ice cream I ever eat in my life.

  Ice cream is the strongest weapon there is against soul-crushing dread.

  There was no luminous moss to light the way this time. I held my phone with one hand, my ice cream with the other until I’d finished it and sucked up the wrapper, running through the maze we’d solved just days before. The space was filled with the sound of licking and heartbeats and feet hitting pavement. So much better than panicked screaming: the epic packed running.