A Series of Unfortunate Events Box: The Complete Wreck by Lemony Snicket
Klaus and Sunny held the empty soup can near the window, and Violet leaned in and stuck her head inside it, as if it were a mask. The eldest Baudelaire took a deep breath to gather her courage, and then she began to speak. From inside the can her voice sounded scratchy and faint, as if she were talking with a piece of aluminum foil over her mouth, which was precisely how she wanted to sound.
“Attention!” Violet announced, before the volunteers could sing the verse about singing to men with measles. “This is Babs. Mattathias has resigned due to personal problems, so I am once again the Head of Human Resources. The Baudelaire murderers and arsonists have been spotted in the unfinished wing of the hospital. We require everyone’s assistance in making sure they do not escape. Please rush over there right away. That is all.”
Violet pulled her head out of the can, and looked at her siblings. “Do you think it worked?” she asked.
Sunny opened her mouth to answer, but she was interrupted by the voice of the bearded volunteer.
“Did you hear that?” the children heard him say. “The criminals are over in the unfinished half of the hospital. Come on, everyone.”
“Maybe some of us should stay here at the front entrance, just in case,” said a voice the Baudelaires recognized as Hal’s.
Violet stuck her head back into the can. “Attention!” she announced. “This is Babs, the Head of Human Resources. No one should stay at the front entrance to the hospital. It’s too dangerous. Proceed at once to the unfinished wing. That is all.”
“I can see the headline now,” said the reporter from The Daily Punctilio. “‘MURDERERS CAPTURED IN UNFINISHED HALF OF HOSPITAL BY WELL-ORGANIZED MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS.’ Wait until the readers of The Daily Punctilio see that!”
There was a cheer from the crowd, which faded as they walked away from the front of Heimlich Hospital.
“It worked,” Violet said. “We fooled them. We’re as good at tricking people as Olaf is.”
“And at disguises,” Klaus said.
“Anagrams,” Sunny said.
“And lying to people,” Violet said, thinking of Hal, and the shopkeeper at Last Chance General Store and all the Volunteers Fighting Disease. “Maybe we’re becoming villains after all.”
“Don’t say that,” Klaus said. “We’re not villains. We’re good people. We had to do tricky things in order to save our lives.”
“Olaf has to do tricky things,” Violet said, “to save his life.”
“Different,” Sunny said.
“Maybe it’s not different,” Violet said sadly. “Maybe—”
Violet was interrupted by an angry roar coming from just outside the closet door. Olaf’s overweight assistant had reached the supply closet and was now fumbling at the door with its enormous hands.
“We can discuss this later,” Klaus said. “We have to get out of here right now.”
“We’re not going to climb,” Violet said, “not with such a skinny, rubbery cord. We’re going to bounce.”
“Bounce?” Sunny asked doubtfully.
“Plenty of people bounce from high places on long, rubbery cords just for fun,” Violet said, “so I’m sure we can do it to escape. I’ll tie the cord to the faucet with the Devil’s Tongue knot, and we’ll each take turns jumping out the window. The cord should catch us before we hit the ground, and bounce us up, and down, and up, and down, more and more gently each time. Eventually we’ll get to the bottom safely, and then we’ll toss it back up to the next person.”
“It sounds risky,” Klaus said. “I’m not sure the cord is long enough.”
“It is risky,” Violet agreed, “but not as risky as a fire.”
The associate rattled the door furiously, making a large crack right near the lock. Black smoke began to pour through the crack as if the assistant were pouring ink into the closet, as Violet hurriedly tied the cord to the faucet and then tugged on it to make sure it was secure.
“I’ll go first,” she said. “I invented it, so I’d better test it.”
“No,” Klaus said. “We’re not taking turns.”
“Together,” Sunny agreed.
“If we all go down together,” Violet said, “I’m not sure the cord will hold.”
“We’re not leaving anyone behind,” Klaus said firmly. “Not this time. Either we all escape, or none of us do.”
“But if none of us do,” Violet said tearfully, “then there won’t be any Baudelaires left. Olaf will have won.”
Klaus reached into his pocket and brought out a sheet of paper. He unfolded it, and his sisters could see that it was page thirteen of the Snicket file. He pointed to the photograph of the Baudelaire parents and the sentence that was printed below it. “‘Because of the evidence discussed on page nine,’” he read out loud, “‘experts now suspect that there may in fact be one survivor of the fire, but the survivor’s whereabouts are unknown.’ We’ve got to survive, too—so we can find out what happened, and bring Olaf to justice.”
“But if we take turns,” Violet said frantically, “there’s a better chance that one of us will survive.”
“We’re not leaving anyone behind,” Klaus said firmly. “That’s what makes us different from Olaf.”
Violet thought for a moment, and nodded. “You’re right,” she said.
Olaf’s associate kicked at the door, and the crack grew bigger. The children could see a tiny orange light shining in the hallway and realized that the fire and the associate must have reached the door at the same time.
“I’m scared,” Violet said.
“I’m frightened,” Klaus said.
“Sheer terror,” Sunny said, and the associate kicked the door again, forcing a few sparks through the crack in the door. The Baudelaires looked at one another, and each child grabbed the rubber band cord with one hand. With their other hands they clasped one another, and then, without another word, they leaped out of the window of Heimlich Hospital
STOP.
There are many things in this world I do not know. I do not know how butterflies get out of their cocoons without damaging their wings. I do not know why anyone would boil vegetables when roasting them is tastier. I do not know how to make olive oil, and I do not know why dogs bark before an earthquake, and I do not know why some people voluntarily choose to climb mountains where it is freezing and difficult to breathe, or live in the suburbs, where the coffee is watery and all of the houses look alike. I do not know where the Baudelaire children are now, or if they are safe or if they are even alive. But there are some things I do know, and one of them is that the window of the supply closet in the Ward for People with Nasty Rashes of Heimlich Hospital was not on the third floor or the fourth floor, as Klaus had guessed. The window was on the second floor, so that when the three children dropped through the smoky air, clinging to the rubber band cord for dear life, Violet’s invention worked perfectly. Like a yo-yo, the children bounced gently up and down, brushing their feet against one of the bushes planted in front of the hospital, and after a few bounces it was safe to drop to the ground and hug each other with relief.
“We made it,” Violet said. “It was a close call, but we survived.”
The Baudelaires looked behind them at the hospital, and saw just how close a call it had been. The building looked like a fiery ghost, with great bursts of flame coming from the windows, and oceans of smoke pouring from great gaping holes in the walls. The children could hear glass shattering as the windows burned away, and the crackle of wood as the floors fell through. It occurred to the children that their own house must have looked like this on the day it burned down, and they stepped back from the burning building and huddled together as the air grew thick with ashes and smoke, obscuring the hospital from view.
“Where can we go?” Klaus asked, shouting over the roar of the fire. “Any minute now, the crowd will figure out that we’re not in the unfinished half of the hospital, and return here.”
“Run!” Sunny shrieked.
“But we can’t even see whe
“Stay down!” Klaus said, dropping to the ground and beginning to crawl. “In The Encyclopedia of Escaping Arson, the author wrote that there’s more oxygen closer to the ground, so we can breathe more easily. But we need to get to some kind of shelter right away.”
“Where will we find some kind of shelter, in this empty landscape?” Violet asked, crawling behind her brother. “The hospital is the only building for miles, and it’s burning to the ground!”
“I don’t know,” Klaus said, coughing loudly, “but we can’t breathe in this smoke for long!”
“Hurry up!” the Baudelaires heard a voice call out of the smoke. “This way!” A long, black shape emerged from the smoky air, and the children saw it was an automobile, pulling up in front of the hospital. An automobile, of course, is a kind of shelter, but the siblings froze on the ground and dared not crawl an inch farther toward the car.
“Hurry up!” Olaf’s voice said again. “Hurry up or I’ll leave you behind!”
“I’m coming, darling.” From behind them, the Baudelaires heard the reply of Esmé Squalor. “Lucafont and Flacutono are with me, and the ladies are following behind. I had them take all the medical coats we could find, in case we need them for costumes again.”
“Good thinking,” Olaf replied. “Can you see the car in the smoke?”
“Yes,” Esmé said, her voice growing closer. The Baudelaires could hear the odd footsteps of her stiletto-heeled shoes as she strode toward the automobile. “Open the trunk, darling, and we’ll put the costumes in.”
“Oh, all right,” Olaf sighed, and the children saw the tall figure of their enemy step out of the car.
“Wait up, Olaf!” the bald man cried.
“You fool,” Olaf replied. “I told you to call me Mattathias until we leave the hospital grounds. Hurry up and get in the car. The Snicket file wasn’t in the Library of Records, but I think I know where I can find it. Once we destroy those thirteen pages, there’ll be no stopping us.”
“We’ve got to destroy the Baudelaires, too,” Esmé said.
“We would have destroyed them, if all of you hadn’t messed up my plan,” he said, “but never mind that. We have to get out of here before the authorities come.”
“But your largest assistant is still in the Rash Ward, looking for the brats!” the bald man said, and the children heard him open the door of the automobile.
The hook-handed man spoke up, and the children could see his odd shape in the smoke as he got into the car after the bald assistant. “The Ward for People with Nasty Rashes is entirely destroyed,” he said. “I hope the big one got out O.K.”
“We’re not going to wait around to find out if that fool lived or died,” Olaf snarled. “As soon as the ladies can put the costumes in the trunk, we’ll get out of here. It’s been splendid setting this fire, but we’ve got to find the Snicket file as soon as possible, before You-Know-Who does.”
“V.F.D.!” Esmé said with a cackle. “The real V.F.D., that is, not those ridiculous singers!”
The trunk opened with a creak, and the children saw the shadow of the trunk’s lid flip open into the smoky air. The lid was peppered with tiny holes—bullet holes, it looked like, undoubtedly from being pursued by the police. Olaf strode back to the car and continued giving orders.
“Get out of the front seat, you idiots,” Olaf said. “My girlfriend sits in front, and the rest of you can pile in the back.”
“Yes, boss,” the bald man replied.
“We have the costumes, Mattathias.” The voice of one of the powder-faced women was faint in the smoke. “Just give us a few seconds to reach the car.”
Violet leaned as close as she could to her siblings so she could whisper to them without being heard. “We’ve got to go in there,” she said.
“Where?” Klaus whispered in reply.
“In the trunk,” Violet replied. “It’s our only chance to get out of here without getting captured—or worse.”
“Culech!” Sunny said in a horrified whisper, which meant something along the lines of “Getting in the trunk is the same thing as getting captured!”
“We’ve got to get the rest of the Snicket file before Olaf does,” Violet said, “or we’ll never be able to clear our names.”
“Or bring Olaf to justice,” Klaus said.
“Ezan,” Sunny said, which meant “Or find out if one of our parents really survived the fire.”
“The only way we can do all those things,” Violet said, “is to get in the trunk of that car.”
Olaf’s voice floated through the smoke, as deceitful and dangerous as the fire itself. “Get in the car this instant!” he ordered his associates. “I’m going to leave at the count of three.”
The Baudelaires gripped each other’s hands so firmly that it hurt to hang on. “Think of everything we have survived together,” Violet whispered. “We’ve lived through countless unfortunate events, only to find ourselves alone. If one of our parents has survived, it’ll all be worthwhile. We have to find them if it’s the last thing we do.”
“One!”
Klaus looked at the gaping trunk, which looked like the mouth of some dark and smoky beast, eager to devour him and his siblings. “You’re right,” he murmured finally. “We can’t stay in this smoky air much longer, or we’ll become asphyxiated. The shelter of the trunk is our only hope.”
“Yes!” Sunny whispered.
“Two!”
The Baudelaire children stood up and scurried into the trunk of Count Olaf’s car. The trunk was damp and smelled terrible, but the children crawled deep into its depths so they wouldn’t be seen.
“Wait!” the powder-faced woman called, and the Baudelaires felt the slap of the medical coats being tossed on top of them. “I don’t want to be left behind! I can’t breathe out here!”
“Will we be able to breathe in here?” Violet asked Klaus as quietly as she could.
“Yes,” Klaus said. “Air will come through the bullet holes. This is not the sort of shelter I had in mind, but I guess it might do.”
“Golos,” Sunny said, which meant “It’ll have to do, until something better comes along,” and her siblings nodded.
“Three!”
The trunk slammed closed, leaving them in utter darkness, and their shelter rattled and shook as Olaf started the engine and began to drive across the landscape, which was as flat and desolate as ever. But the children could not see outside, of course. In the blackness of the trunk, they could not see anything at all. They could only hear their long, shivering breaths as the air rushed through the bullet holes, and feel their shoulders tremble as they shivered in fear. It was not the sort of shelter the children had in mind, never in their entire lives, but as they huddled together they guessed it might do. For the Baudelaire orphans—if indeed they were still orphans—the shelter of Count Olaf’s trunk would have to do, until something better came along.
To My Kind Editor
A Series of Unfortunate Events
THE BAD BEGINNING
THE REPTILE ROOM
THE WIDE WINDOW
THE MISERABLE MILL
THE AUSTERE ACADEMY
THE ERSATZ ELEVATOR
THE VILE VILLAGE
THE HOSTILE HOSPITAL
Credits
Cover art © 2001 by Brett Helquist
Cover design by Alison Donalty
Cover © 2001 by HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
Copyright
A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS, THE HOSTILE HOSPITAL, Text copyright © 2001 by Lemony Snicket, Illustrations copyright © 2001 by Brett Helquist. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any in
ePub Edition August 2007 ISBN 9780061757204
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Snicket, Lemony. The hostile hospital / by Lemony Snicket ; illustrations by Brett Helquist. p. cm. — (A series of unfortunate events ; bk. 8)
Summary: On the run after being falsely accused of murder, the three Baudelaire orphans find themselves in Heimlich Hospital, with the evil Count Olaf in close pursuit.
ISBN 0-06-440866-3 — ISBN 0-06-028891-4 (lib. bdg.)
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A Series of Unfortunate Events #9: The Carnivorous Carnival
A Series of Unfortunate Events BOOK the Ninth
THE CARNIVOROUS
CARNIVAL
by LEMONY SNICKET Illustrations by Brett Helquist
Dear Reader,
The word “carnivorous,” which appears in the title of this book, means “meat-eating,” and once you have read such a bloodthirsty word, there is no reason to read any further. This carnivorous volume contains such a distressing story that consuming any of its contents would be far more stomach-turning than even the most imbalanced meal.
To avoid causing discomfort, it would be best if I didn’t mention any of the unnerving ingredients of this story, particularly a confusing map, an ambidextrous person, an unruly crowd, a wooden plank, and Chabo the Wolf Baby.
Sadly for me, my time is filled with researching and recording the displeasing and disenchanting lives of the Baudelaire orphans. But your time might be better filled with something more palatable, such as eating your vegetables, or feeding them to someone else.
With all due respect,