Read Online Cragbridge Hall, Volume 2: The Avatar Battle by Chad Morris - Free Book Online Page A

inside. There was barely enough room for one person. A framed metal door the size of a cereal box hung on the wall at eye level. Abby was scanned again. They really protected people’s stuff. Of course, a lot of kids at Cragbridge Hall came from wealthy families—or had already gained some decent wealth themselves. They would have some things they’d want to keep safe. Abby could hear the muffled sounds of metal on tracks, movement behind the wall. She had heard how the rooms work. Behind the wall, a delivery system would retrieve a unit with her belongings from the vault in which it was kept and then place it behind the door. Scans of both her and the unit ensured that the right items were delivered to the right person—and only the right person.
    A light on the smaller door glowed green. Abby opened the door, discovering it was several inches thick—not nearly as heavy or thick as the huge doors protecting the Bridge but still impressive. Inside was a small package wrapped in brown paper. It was about the length of two candy bars and a couple of inches wide.
    Abby retrieved the package and stepped out to see Derick and Carol waiting. “Oh, it’s like Christmas, or my birthday, or Easter, or graduation, or just Fridays when my mom has had a stressful week and she feels like doing some shopping therapy. Present time!” Carol clapped her hands.
    Derick leaned over and read the tag tied to the top. “To those who ask the right questions.” He looked at Abby.
    “Can I open it?” Carol asked.
    “Sure,” Abby said, “but let’s go to a study room first. I know it’s probably too early for anyone else to be around, but we should probably be careful. Grandpa said to keep this private.”
    Moments later, they were in a secluded study room along the commons. Carol ripped at the paper. She was impressively quick at opening a gift. From the remaining wrapping, Carol pulled a rectangular black box made from dark metal or extremely reinforced plastic. On the front was a silver metal lock shaped like a question mark, a keyhole in the body of it.
    “It needs a key,” Carol said and looked over at Abby and Derick. Whatever was inside was intended for those who had already faced the challenges and could be trusted with the power to go back in time.
    “Here,” Derick said, pulling a key from his pocket. Grandpa hadn’t yet made a cool way for him to save and protect it. “I really want to use this.” Derick had told Abby last night about enduring a Civil War battle to get a key. He hadn’t said too much, but after surviving her own simulation, she had an idea how hard it had been. Boys never gave enough detail in their stories.
    The key fit perfectly. With a twist and a click, the black box opened. A small, three-dimensional image of Grandpa appeared. He was only four inches tall.
    “Hello,” Grandpa said. “Whoever you may be, you have been asking questions. I admire that. Questions are to be valued . . . treasured. They are the beginning steps of some of the best journeys. I have probably spoken to you about the importance of this particular journey. I need others besides me to know more information, though you must be prepared to receive it. In fact, I hope I am not too late in extending it to you.” Grandpa exhaled and rubbed his eyes. “But you must ask yourself how much you want the answers. Because answers—real answers—cannot simply be given; they must be earned. The answers to the question or questions you have asked especially must be earned. Those answers come with power and consequences.” He motioned toward the open box below him. Inside it, Abby found what must be a small compartment. Covering it was a touch panel that, when she moved her fingers near it, showed a grid of random letters and numbers. It must take some sort of code to open. On top of the panel lay a small rolled-up piece of paper. Abby picked it up and unrolled it.
    “Another Bridge code,” Carol said out loud, reading the piece