Shadow and Gnat gasp for air. Their muscles burn, and their heads throb. Right behind them, Slug effortlessly keeps up, despite moving at a disorientingly slow pace.
Shadow quickly glances over her shoulder. The next corner is only ten meters away, and the Flintstones are still not in sight. They might still make it, but then she stops so abruptly that she has to grab Gnat by his blazer to avoid falling over, coming to a stumbling halt.
Gnat curses vehemently, but when he looks back into the corridor, his jaw drops as well. Somehow, between them and the Flintstones, who have just charged around the corner, the crooked figure of Williams has materialized, sweeping the floor with an enormous broom.
They watch with a mixture of disbelief and relief as the Flintstones come to a hard stop two meters in front of the old janitor, barely resisting the urge to run right through him.
“Good evening, youngsters. Still at school at this untimely hour? Wouldn’t you rather be at home enjoying a nice cup of hot tea?” he says casually, seemingly oblivious to the growing anger of the four panting students in front of him.
“Out of the way, old man. This is none of your damn business. Move it, or we’ll lose them,” Fred snaps.
“Lose them, Mr. Pugno? Isn’t everything lost until it’s found?” the janitor smiles benevolently, glancing casually over his shoulder down the corridor where Gnat, Shadow, and Slug have just disappeared around the next corner.
“I don’t see anything that wants to be found, do you?” A bright, friendly light shines in his eyes. In Fred’s eyes, however, another light flares up. Red spots crawl from his neck, spreading over his face to his forehead. “Don’t get in our way, Grandpa. You might work here, but we’re on a special mission assigned by the vice-principal herself, and I won’t hesitate to...” His voice trails off ominously as the floor beneath Williams’ feet begins to tremble. Williams, however, appears unimpressed, raising only an eyebrow in mild curiosity.
“Interesting, interesting,” he muses. “Not that it was a secret, of course. You haven’t been shy or subtle about your talent. This broom has had the honor of cleaning up after you many times.” He pats the broomstick as if it’s his trusted sidekick. “However, you must understand that using my own building against me will not work.” With just one tap on the floor, the trembling stops. Barney, Wilma, and Betty look stunned. Fred looks shocked. Williams smiles without malice or triumph, looking at them like an adult encouraging a child to ask a question.
For a moment, everything is eerily silent. Then, the sound from the depths of Fred’s throat grows into a deafening roar as he takes an earth-shattering step forward, his arms outstretched. When he’s close enough, his fist swings with devastating force toward the frail janitor’s still-smiling face—and passes right through it as if he’s not there, as if he were a ghost. Fred looks dumbfounded at his hand, as if it doesn't belong to him. He looks up, just in time to see Williams dissolve into thin air before reappearing ten meters further down the corridor.
“I’m never sure whether I should feel disappointed or satisfied when I’m so colossally underestimated,” he contemplates. “Fortunately, you and your friends haven’t been paying much attention all these years. Remember, arrogance has never brought anyone anything good.”
He nods a farewell and disappears once again, this time for good.