Floors: by Patrick Carman

think of that, Betty?”
    Betty was growing very bored and extremely hungry. She honked irritably, staring up at Leo as if to say
I’ve had it with rings and rooms and boxes. Get me to the roof or I’ll chew on your shoes.
    “We
have
been in here a while, haven’t we? But I don’t know how to get out.”
    Leo wanted desperately to open the blue box, but he’d been told not to, so instead he took the purple box off the handles and set them aside. He put the lid back on the purple box and set the boxes next to each other.
    And then he sat there for about a minute, unsure what to do, until a new message appeared on the ceiling.
    Connect the boxes.
Pick them up.
     
    Like all the earlier messages, this one appeared, then slowly drifted away, the frost returning to the glass.
    It took only a moment for Leo to figure out that the blue box slid snugly on top of the purple box on little wooden rails he hadn’t paid any mind to before. The two were one now, inseparable unless they were intentionally slid apart.
    There was one last message being drawn with a finger on the glass, and this one worried Leo greatly.
    Hold on tight!
     
    He didn’t see any reason to hold on tight, so the message unnerved him. Should he hold the boxes tight,or pick up Betty and hold her tight, or was the floor about to fa —
    The third thing Leo thought — the thought about the floor falling away — was the reason he was supposed to hold on tight. He found himself on a twisting slide and wondered if he was inside one of the tubes of the Double Helix. Those were far too narrow, he knew, but things had gotten so terribly strange at the Whippet Hotel that he couldn’t tell up from down. Wherever he was, he was falling fast, turning sharply every few seconds, barely keeping hold of the two boxes that had become one. He came to a harrowing U-turn and was tossed from the tube, landing squarely on top of the duck elevator. He made the mistake of turning toward the echoing sound of Betty sliding down behind him, and she crashed into his face, feathers flying as she regained her webbed footing and quacked angrily.
    Leo threw open the trapdoor atop the duck elevator and jumped inside, landing with a bouncy
thud
. He grabbed the boxes first, then the duck, and shut himself inside.
    “It’s getting awfully crowded in here, wouldn’t you say?” he asked Betty. Two boxes, a boy, and a duck did take up some space when there wasn’t much to be had.
    There was plenty of good news, though, as the small elevator lurched to life and started its slow descent tothe lobby. Leo was in possession of the second of four boxes. He was halfway to somewhere, though he had no idea where. He had a special ring in his pocket. And he was free of the Room of Rings or the Ring of Rooms, whichever it was called.
    The bad news?
    The walkie-talkie had started working again, and Ms. Sparks was screaming at him.

     
    Bernard Frescobaldi was back in the hotel across the street, staring at the huge, nearly empty block that held the Whippet Hotel. Something was troubling him.
    “Milton, a cappuccino, if you please.”
    “Right away, sir. Right away.”
    Milton went to work at the rather elaborate coffee-making machine in the corner of the room. It had been brought over from Italy, along with Italian espresso beans, cups, saucers, spoons, and a grinder. The room filled with the smells and sounds of good, strong coffee.
    “Something’s not right over there,” said Bernard as Milton delivered the small red cup topped with foam.
    “How do you mean, sir?”
    Milton returned to the machine to make his own drink, for he knew his boss would take some time answering the question.
    “Someone is set against us, though I can’t see who,” Bernard continued, still staring out the window as Milton returned.
    “I think our plan is going to work,” Milton assured him, sipping carefully from his own cup. “How can we lose with you-know-who on the job?”
    “True enough. Still, I can’t