hit the sack about nine, figuring that he would conk out immediately. But here he was, in this incredibly comfortable hotel bed, with his head spinning, his mind racing. There was just too much to think about, too much to worry about.
A while later he heard Uncle Louie answer a rap on the hotel room door. There was a muffled exchange of words. Johnny had no idea what it was about, but it didn’t matter for now. His brain and his body suddenly decided: enough of this nonsense, off to sleep with you.
Chapter 22
Tuesday, October 22, 1935
Silver City
Johnny put on his suit and hat, then his socks and shoes. He tiptoed through the sitting room and was about to sneak out the hotel room door, camera pack slung over his shoulder. Someone cleared her throat behind him.
He spun around. There stood Nina, dressed in her travel clothes, grinning and looking very pleased with herself. He was tempted to groan, but he knew that would be a bad idea. Nina did not like being groaned at.
Johnny started to say something, but Nina put an index finger up to her lips and pointed at Uncle Louie, snoring away on the sofa. She came over and nudged Johnny out the door. She gently closed it behind them.
“I was just going to shoot some local color,” Johnny sputtered in the hallway. “You don’t have to come.”
“You’re always going off now and having adventures by yourself, Johnny,” said Nina, hands on hips. “Every once in a while you ought to share them with your friends! I mean, I’m practically your cousin. Anyway, if you leave without me, I’ll go back in there and wake up Mel and Louie.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“I would.”
Johnny opened his mouth, intending to say a few choice words, but thought the better of it. “Well, okay, Sparks,” he yielded. “Come on.”
“Let me leave them a note,” said Nina, slipping back into the suite.
It was still dark outside. They walked through a public park across from the hotel and came upon Silver City’s grand MacDougall Fountain, lights still burning, with its statue of President MacDougall. He had been a tall, thin man with a haggard face and a beard. Cast in bronze, he was standing, looking somberly down, his hands clasped in front of him, the very picture of despair. Chiseled in the granite beneath his lanky figure were the words:
Back in school, Johnny had read about the capture of President MacDougall and the Free States’ capital by forces of the Old Dominion during the First Border War. This event led to a peace treaty and, ultimately, the division of the Free States into four countries. The triumphant Old Dominion. The Plains Republic, where Johnny and Nina lived. The Coastal Federation. And a remnant of the Free States that survived in the northeast, now called Freedonia—of which Neuport was the capital.
Johnny and Nina emerged out of the park onto a broad avenue that bordered Jadetown. Streetlamps threw down little puddles of light, illuminating a few ghosts who were standing around—bored, listless, depressed. Johnny said “Hi” to some of them, which prompted the specters to tag along behind the two kids.
Up the avenue stood a big, ornamental gate encrusted in sinuous, climbing dragons in red enamel and gold leaf. A green metal roof the shape of a witch’s hat crowned the structure.
This was one of the four ceremonial entrances into Jadetown—looming right over General Tang Boulevard. Johnny had read about them in a tourist magazine at the hotel. The two youngsters marched beneath the gate, half a dozen ghosts trailing behind—most of them immigrants from the Jade Kingdom.
For an hour, Johnny and Nina wandered through narrow, winding streets. Vivid aromas of spices and cooking oils wafted from the open-air restaurants. Roosters crowed here and there. It seemed almost every window had someone leaning out of it, waiting for the new dawn.
The two friends talked in spurts. About the murders. About the trip. About Mel’s interest in
A while later he heard Uncle Louie answer a rap on the hotel room door. There was a muffled exchange of words. Johnny had no idea what it was about, but it didn’t matter for now. His brain and his body suddenly decided: enough of this nonsense, off to sleep with you.
Chapter 22
Tuesday, October 22, 1935
Silver City
Johnny put on his suit and hat, then his socks and shoes. He tiptoed through the sitting room and was about to sneak out the hotel room door, camera pack slung over his shoulder. Someone cleared her throat behind him.
He spun around. There stood Nina, dressed in her travel clothes, grinning and looking very pleased with herself. He was tempted to groan, but he knew that would be a bad idea. Nina did not like being groaned at.
Johnny started to say something, but Nina put an index finger up to her lips and pointed at Uncle Louie, snoring away on the sofa. She came over and nudged Johnny out the door. She gently closed it behind them.
“I was just going to shoot some local color,” Johnny sputtered in the hallway. “You don’t have to come.”
“You’re always going off now and having adventures by yourself, Johnny,” said Nina, hands on hips. “Every once in a while you ought to share them with your friends! I mean, I’m practically your cousin. Anyway, if you leave without me, I’ll go back in there and wake up Mel and Louie.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“I would.”
Johnny opened his mouth, intending to say a few choice words, but thought the better of it. “Well, okay, Sparks,” he yielded. “Come on.”
“Let me leave them a note,” said Nina, slipping back into the suite.
It was still dark outside. They walked through a public park across from the hotel and came upon Silver City’s grand MacDougall Fountain, lights still burning, with its statue of President MacDougall. He had been a tall, thin man with a haggard face and a beard. Cast in bronze, he was standing, looking somberly down, his hands clasped in front of him, the very picture of despair. Chiseled in the granite beneath his lanky figure were the words:
Back in school, Johnny had read about the capture of President MacDougall and the Free States’ capital by forces of the Old Dominion during the First Border War. This event led to a peace treaty and, ultimately, the division of the Free States into four countries. The triumphant Old Dominion. The Plains Republic, where Johnny and Nina lived. The Coastal Federation. And a remnant of the Free States that survived in the northeast, now called Freedonia—of which Neuport was the capital.
Johnny and Nina emerged out of the park onto a broad avenue that bordered Jadetown. Streetlamps threw down little puddles of light, illuminating a few ghosts who were standing around—bored, listless, depressed. Johnny said “Hi” to some of them, which prompted the specters to tag along behind the two kids.
Up the avenue stood a big, ornamental gate encrusted in sinuous, climbing dragons in red enamel and gold leaf. A green metal roof the shape of a witch’s hat crowned the structure.
This was one of the four ceremonial entrances into Jadetown—looming right over General Tang Boulevard. Johnny had read about them in a tourist magazine at the hotel. The two youngsters marched beneath the gate, half a dozen ghosts trailing behind—most of them immigrants from the Jade Kingdom.
For an hour, Johnny and Nina wandered through narrow, winding streets. Vivid aromas of spices and cooking oils wafted from the open-air restaurants. Roosters crowed here and there. It seemed almost every window had someone leaning out of it, waiting for the new dawn.
The two friends talked in spurts. About the murders. About the trip. About Mel’s interest in
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