Free The Secret Cipher by Whitaker Ringwald Page B

Ethan said. “The Greek gods are gone. Long gone.”
    â€œMaybe they are but maybe they aren’t,” Tyler said with a glint in his eye. “Think about it. So much weirdness has happened, I wouldn’t be surprised if Zeus climbed through the window and asked us for directions to the nearest ambrosia dealer.”
    Juniper’s words began to slur. “The gods exist in . . . another dimension.”
    Huh?
    â€œThere are only three spatial dimensions,” Ethan said, trying to be logical, as usual. “Up and down, left and right, or forward and backward.”
    â€œWhat about special relativity?” Tyler said.“You can’t forget that. Space-time can be thought of as a fourth dimension. And then there’s superstring theory, which adds six more dimensions.”
    My head was starting to spin. “Guys!” I blurted. “Can you please focus? Great-Aunt Juniper, how do we . . . ?” She’d drifted into a deep sleep. “Crud!”
    Tyler, Ethan, and I stared at the woman who’d dragged us into this whole mess. Then I sank into a chair. I tried desperately to wrap my head around the situation. “Okay, let’s figure this out. Juniper went to the Museum of Fine Arts and tried to tamper with the security system. We don’t know why. But she had the urn of Hope with her, in her purse, and it ended up here, in this room. Then a girl came and took it. We don’t know who she is or where she went. And some guy has the urn of Faith and used it to rob a bank.” I sank deeper into the chair. “What are we supposed to do now?”
    As if on cue, the door opened and Louis, the male nurse, stepped in. “Hey, you kids aren’t supposed to be in here.” He perched his hands on his hips. “This room is off-limits, didn’t you read the sign?”
    I jumped to my feet. “Sign?” I asked innocently.
    He pulled a phone from his pocket. “Do you know Jane Doe? Did you come here to identifyher? ’Cause if you did I’m supposed to call the police so they can interview you.”
    â€œWe don’t know her,” I said.
    â€œAnd she doesn’t know us,” Tyler added. Ethan pulled his baseball cap lower.
    â€œWell, you’ll have to leave.” Louis stepped aside and motioned toward the hallway. “I don’t know how you kids keep getting in here. We need a better security system, that’s for sure. I think that other kid climbed in through the window.”
    â€œOther kid?” we all said.
    â€œYeah. I told her she had no business in this room.”
    â€œWhat did she look like?” I asked.
    Louis folded his arms. “Why do you want to know what she looks like?”
    â€œJust curious,” I told him, because I couldn’t think of anything else.
    â€œOnly thing I remember is her red hair. Lots of braids, you know.”
    â€œLots of braids?” I froze. No way. That would be weird. It couldn’t be . . . her .
    â€œShe asked me how to get to some sort of comic-book festival. I told her I wasn’t a tour guide. If she wanted to get downtown, she could take herselfoutside and catch the bus.”
    â€œWhen did this happen?” I asked.
    â€œJust a few minutes ago. . . .”
    I was out the door, running down the hallway, Ethan and Tyler at my heels.
    â€œHey,” Herman Hofstedder hollered from his wheelchair. “Don’t leave me here. Take me with you!”
    I darted around a couple more wheelchairs and a lady using a walker. I almost overturned a medication cart. “No running,” Sister Beatrice called as I raced by.
    â€œSorry,” I said, then I pushed open the front door. Red braids. Lots of them.
    The sound of screeching brakes caught my attention. A city bus had pulled up to the curb, across the street.
    â€œHey, wait!” I called, waving my arms. “Hold that bus!” But the driver either