Page 66 of Office of the Lost

He woke up, and everything was the same.Except nowGilligan’s Islandwas on TV.

Leopold wasn’t hungry or thirsty and didn’t need to pee.Maybe that was part of the magic of being in the archive.He would miss food, but when he followed his thoughts to their logical conclusion, he nearly panicked.If he didn’t need food, then there was no reason for anyone at OotL to enter his prison.Ever.He would be locked in here without ever seeing another living being.

Although he didn’t panic, he did enter a sort of frenzy of screaming, running around, and scratching and banging on the walls.

All of which was fruitless.As far as he could tell, there was no way out.And nobody came to investigate the noise.He remembered how eerily quiet the OotL hallway had been, and how there had been no clue about what was behind each door.

When he was completely worn out, he collapsed onto the couch and had a good cry.Eventually that subsided and he settled for staring numbly at the water-stained ceiling.

“Hey!Little buddy!”

Leopold froze and looked around.Still nobody there but him.And also no Kleenex, which was a shame because he didn’t even have a sleeve to wipe his nose on.

“Little buddy!”

It was the TV.The TV was talking to him.Well, not the set itself, but the character on the screen, whom Leopold recognized as the Skipper.He was sitting on a downed palm tree, wearing his nautical cap and bright blue shirt, and looking straight at Leopold.He was also smoking a joint, which Leopold was fairly certain had never happened on the show.

“Uh, hello?”Leopold winced.He’d only just been locked up and already he was losing touch with reality.

But the Skipper seemed pleased that Leopold had greeted him.“You’ve sure got yourself in a pickle, haven’t you?”

“I guess.How do I get out of here?”

“Beats me.I had three whole seasons and still couldn’t get myself off that damned uncharted island.”

Leopold leaned back against the couch cushions and groaned.Couldn’t he at least have been given a helpful vintage television visitor?MacGyver, maybe?

“You remind me a little of Gilligan,” said the Skipper.He sounded fond.“Poor guy was always getting into trouble.Of course,hewas an idiot.We all were—even the Professor.If he was so smart, couldn’t he have rigged us a seaworthy boat out of coconuts or something?”

“Am I doomed to listen to critiques of TV shows that were cancelled thirty years before I was born?”

The Skipper chuckled.“Nah, little buddy.Anyway, in a few minutesBewitchedcomes on.I just wanted to give you a little friendly advice.”

“Check the weather forecast before booking a three-hour boat tour?”

The Skipper removed his hat and waved it around, clearly wishing he could swat Leopold with it.“Listen up.We might not have escaped the island, but we survived.And you know how?Ingenuity.We found new ways to make use of what we had.A few vines, a little bamboo, some brainpower…boom!Now you’ve got a Geiger counter… or maybe a sewing machine.Where’s your bamboo and coconut shells, little buddy?”

Leopold stared at the screen for a long time.“I have no idea.”

The Skipper shrugged.“Well, maybe you should.”

Then he dissolved into a fuzz of gray static that was replaced by a cartoon witch, flying sidesaddle on a broom.

25

Crispin

Crispin’s mother led the two of them down the alley and around a corner, past a few drunks snoring loudly next to a bright yellow dumpster.Almost all truly civilized worlds seemed to have dumpsters—though their specific design and color varied wildly—and squirrels, which was a weird stray thought probably inspired by Minkis chittering away on his shoulder.

The sleepers seemed blissfully unaware of the chaotic event unleashed just steps away from their uncomfortable sleeping place, and Crispin sighed, torn between compassion for their plight and disgust at their inability to control their baser impulses.

Then again, look who’s talking.You fell in love with a lumpy bit of human Chaos.He hoped Bidulla—or whomever had taken Leo—was treating him right.

Aspin gave Crispin a wide berth, barely disguising his own disgust at his prodigal brother.

Where did we go wrong?When they’d been children, Aspin had watched over him, not just an older brother in name only.

“Through here.”The Fae Queen opened an old, creaky metal door—when had she ever opened a door forhimbefore?—and ushered both her sons inside.

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