A Map of Days (Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children, #4)(95)

The fire alarm stopped ringing, and a voice came over the PA system telling everyone to go back to class.

“Let’s go, now,” I said. “While we still have all these people for cover.”

“Split up,” Emma said. She pointed across the street. “Meet over there, behind those cars.”

We divided, walked quickly out of the courtyard and across the street, and reconvened behind the row of parked cars Emma had indicated. The others crouched while I kept watch for adults in polo shirts.

“Now, listen,” Emma said. “Jacob and I found something out, too.”

“So did I,” said Millard. “I didn’t have any luck with the files and records, but I got to talking with a sweet young woman in the school office—”

“You talked to someone?” I said. “Do none of you care if we’re exposed as peculiar?”

“I’m a great deal more suave than anyone gives me credit for being,” Millard said. “Really, there’s no need for hysterics.”

“So you talked to someone,” Bronwyn said.

“Yes! A rather lovely young lady who I believe knows our subject—and where to find her.”

“Okay, where?” Emma said.

“I didn’t want to push too hard. The subject is a friend of hers. She knows the subject is in danger, and she’s understandably protective. I was gradually earning her trust when the blasted fire alarm sounded.”

“So go back in there and finish earning her trust,” Enoch said.

“We made arrangements to meet later. She wasn’t entirely comfortable discussing the matter on school grounds, anyway.”

“I can’t believe you talked to someone,” said Emma, shaking her head.

“I wasn’t seen, I assure you,” Millard huffed. “Does no one have any faith in old Nullings?”

The girl had agreed to meet Millard at a café after school ended. We had a few hours to kill, so we hiked back to the car, got in, and discussed what to do next. Bronwyn wanted to see the sights.

“We’re in New York! We should see the Liberty Statue! And other touristical things!”

“We’re on a mission,” I said. “No way.”

“So? Hollow-hunters never had fun on a mission?”

“If they did,” said Millard, “they never mentioned it in the operations log.”

Bronwyn crossed her arms and sulked. I didn’t care. Even if we’d had time to go to the Statue of Liberty, I wouldn’t have had the bandwidth to enjoy it. Bronwyn had this way of compartmentalizing experiences and setting stressful things aside, but I was too preoccupied with finding the girl and persuading her to accept our help. But even if we managed to do both, we still didn’t know where this loop ten thousand forty-four was. I understood why so many things had to be veiled in secrets and written in code, but I wished, just this once, that H could have just told me what to do and where to go in plain English.

“What do we think this loop number means?” I said.

We were sitting in the car, trying to figure out our next move.

“Are all loops in America numbered?” Enoch asked. “If they are, we just need a directory of the numbers.”

“That would be nice, but we don’t have one,” I said. “What we have are the documents I brought from home.”

I fished them out of my duffel bag, and the others helped me look through them for anything I might’ve missed. We searched for the number 10044 on the handmade maps, the postcards from Abe, and on every page of the operations log. After an hour, my eyes were starting to cross and some of us were yawning. Even though we’d gotten eight hours of sleep the night before, it had barely made a dent in our exhaustion. I fell asleep with the operations log in my lap and my head on the steering wheel.

I woke with a crick in my neck to Bronwyn yelling at Enoch.

“Now I’ll have to launder my clothes!” she was saying. “It’s disgusting!”

Before I could ask what she meant, I smelled it for myself—formaldehyde. Earlier I’d been too exhausted to notice, but Enoch stank of it, and now that we’d been shut in the car with him for a few hours, we did, too.

“We must find a restroom where we can wash and you all can change clothes,” Millard said. He sounded panicked.

We’d been asleep for a couple of hours, and there wasn’t much time left before we were supposed to meet Millard’s contact. He gave me the name of the café. I typed it into my phone.

“It’s only a mile away,” I said. “We’ll be there in plenty of time.”

“I hope so,” he said. “First impressions are everything!”

“Wow, you must really fancy her,” Enoch said. “Caring how you smell? That’s almost love.”

I started the engine and pulled away from the curb. Only then, as I was about to merge onto a busy road, did Millard say, very casually, “By the way, while you were sleeping I deduced the location of loop ten thousand forty-four.”

“What?” I said. “Really?”

He held up one of Abe’s postcards. I could only glance at it, but on the front was an illustration of an enormous bridge that spanned a river and a long, skinny island, which looked even narrower than Needle Key. I came to a stoplight, which gave me a chance to look a little closer. Written across the top was Queensboro Bridge and Blackwell’s Island, New York City.