Week 13.5 – Plan B

Previously: Digger and Twain are headed into Chicago to retrieve the Mask of El Coco for Plan B. And now…

The door to the storage building rattled up on hinges that needed oiling. The reek of dust and mildew struck Digger’s nostrils.

“So are these all artifacts you’ve stolen?” Digger asked, his voice echoing from the corrugated metal walls..

“Mostly, yeah,” Twain said.

“So this is like that warehouse at the end of Raiders,” Digger said, “only ten-by-twelve.”

“And real,” Twain said.

“Yeah,” Digger said. “Real small. Where’s the mask?”

“Over here.” Twain stepped over to an ornate wooden box and opened it.

Digger was disappointed that there was no light, no heavenly choir as the box was opened. Just the yellow gleam of gold on dark velvet. “Okay, hand it over,” Digger said.

“Now?” Twain asked. “I figured we might go someplace safer.”

“No, no more stalling” Digger said. “Let’s do this right now.”

“Okay, but…”

“But what?”

“Well, the first time you use the mask to bring your other self over,” Twain said, “he’s naked.”


“Yeah,” Twain said. “So are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait until we’re in a room where you can have a change of clothes ready?”

“No, you can just grab some out of your van,” Digger said. “I want to make sure it works right now.”

[blockquote type=”blockquote_quotes” align=”right”]…the sound was masked by a keening in his head, like the sounding of a huge chime. He seemed to be turning, twisting, even though he hadn’t moved. And the next thing he knew…[/blockquote]“Okay.” Twain bent over the box, then turned to Digger and handed him the mask. It was heavier than he’d expected, and seemed to depict a man wearing two expressions simultaneously. It was a little disturbing to look at.

“So what do I do?” Digger asked.

“Just put it on,” Twain said.

The mask had leather straps that Digger assumed Twain had added recently, the way he had refurbished the cup. Digger placed the mask over his face and tightened the straps. “Okay, now what?” he asked, his voice echoing strangely in his own ears.

“Now you just change,” Twain said.

“How will I know when it happens?” Digger asked.

“You’ll know.”

Moments passed, but Digger felt no different. “Are you sure this thing works?”

“I’m sure,” Twain said. “Let me adjust it.”

Digger felt Twain’s hands fiddling with the straps on the mask, then Twain started to ask a question. Digger wasn’t sure what it was, though, because the sound was masked by a keening in his head, like the sounding of a huge chime. He seemed to be turning, twisting, even though he hadn’t moved. And the next thing he knew, he was on his back on the ground, the rough concrete cool against his back and the soles of his feet. The chime faded.

“Oh my God,” Twain muttered.

“Don’t freak, dude,” Digger said. “Just get me some clothes. You already knew I was going to be naked.”

“Yeah, but you’re a little more naked than I expected,” Twain said. “Look at your hands.”

Digger held his hands in front of his face and the hair on his arms stood straight up. Because there was hair on his arms where there used to be only metal and scar tissue.

The Drillers were gone!

What will Digger do now? Be here next week for the next exciting chapter of Run, Digger, Run!

To read from the beginning, click here

Or to continue to the next chapter, click here!

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