The Maze of Bones (The 39 Clues #1)(43)

Amy could feel a faint rumbling in the tracks at her feet.

"Dan!" she pleaded. "It's not important!"

"I can get it. Just another second."

"Dan, no. It's just a backpack!"

"It won't open!"

The far end of the tunnel lit up. Nellie was right above them on the platform, reaching out her hand. A lot of other passengers were doing the same, imploring them to grab hold.

"Amy!" Nellie cried. "You first!"

She didn't want to, but maybe if she went first, Dan would see reason. She grabbed Nellie's hand and Nellie hauled her from the rail pit. Immediately, Amy turned and stuck her hand out to Dan.

"Dan, please!" she called. "Now!"

The train's headlight flashed into sight. Wind rushed through the tunnel. The ground trembled.

Dan gave the backpack another tug, but it wouldn't budge. He looked at the train, and Amy saw he was crying. She didn't understand why.

"Dan, take-MY-HAND!"

She leaned out as far as she could. The train barreled down on them. With a cry of anguish, Dan grabbed her hand, and with more strength than Amy knew she had, she yanked him out of the pit so hard they tumbled over each other.

The train rushed on. When the noise died, the passengers on the platform all broke loose at once -- scolding them in French while Nellie tried to explain and apologize.

Amy didn't care what they were saying. She held her brother, who was crying harder than he had since he was little.

She looked over the edge of the pit, but the backpack was gone, swept away into the tunnels by the force of the train. They sat for a long time while Dan shivered and wiped his eyes. Eventually, the passengers lost interest in them. They drifted away or stepped onto other trains and disappeared. No police came. Pretty soon it was just Nellie, Amy, and Dan, sitting in a corner of the platform like a homeless family.

"Dan," Amy said gently. "What was in there? What did you have in the backpack?"

He sniffled and rubbed his nose. "Nothing."

It was the worst lie Amy had ever heard. Usually, she could tell what he was thinking just by looking at his face, but he was hiding his thoughts from her. She could only tell that he was miserable.

"Forget it," he said. "We don't have time."

"Are you sure -- "

"I said forget it! We need to figure out that number box before the Kabras, don't we?"

She didn't like it, but he was right. Besides, something told her that if they stayed here much longer, the police would come and start asking questions. She took one last look at the rail pit where Dan had almost died and the dark hatch that led into the Catacombs. Fear still coursed through her body, but they'd been through too much to give up now.

"Let's go, then," she said. "We've got a clue to find."

Outside it had started to rain.

By the time they found a café, Dan seemed back to normal -- or at least they'd come to a silent agreement that they would act like everything was normal. They sat under the awning to dry off while Nellie ordered food. Amy didn't think she could eat, but she was hungrier than she'd realized.

It was five in the afternoon. They'd been in the Catacombs a long time.

She shuddered as she thought about Ian and Natalie and the poison dart gun. She hoped Uncle Alistair was all right. She still didn't trust him, but there was no denying he'd saved them in the Catacombs. She had terrible thoughts of the old man lying alone and unconscious in the maze.

As they ate brie-and-mushroom sandwiches, Dan drew skulls and Roman numerals on a napkin.

"Twelve, five, fourteen," he said. "Those are the missing numbers."

Amy didn't bother checking his math. He never messed up on number problems.

"Maybe it's an address and an arrondissement," she said.

Nellie wiped off her iPod. "Wouldn't the address have changed in two hundred years?"

Amy got a hollow feeling in her gut. Nellie was probably right. Paris might not have had the arrondissement system when Franklin lived here. And street addresses definitely would've changed -- in which case Franklin's clue was no good anymore.

Would Grace have sent them on a search that couldn't be finished?

Why not? a resentful voice said inside of her.

Grace didn't care enough to tell you about the quest in person. If Dan had died in that rail pit, it would've been Grace's fault.

No, she decided. That wasn't true. Grace must've had a reason. The numbers must refer to something else. Amy could only think of one way to find out -- the same thing she did whenever she had an unsolvable problem. "We need to find a library."

Nellie talked to the waiter in French, and he seemed to understand what they wanted.

"Pas de problè me," he said.

He drew a map on a fresh napkin and scribbled the name of a Métro station: é cole Militaire.

"We have to hurry," Nellie said. "He says the library closes at six."

Half an hour later, soggy and still smelling like the Catacombs, they arrived at the American Library in Paris.

"Perfect," Amy said. The old building had black metal security bars over the doorway, but they were open. Peering inside, Amy saw stacks of books and plenty of comfortable places to read.