Afraid to look, Code sat up. He was on Mek Mound. The storm had passed and the skies were clear. In the distance, he saw the bright yellow of the school bus. He could hear the other students talking to each other farther down the hill. Mr. Mefford was asking for their worksheets.
Oh, no, he thought. It couldn’t have been a dream.
The other kids were assembling at the bottom of the mound. Code noticed that the sun had moved across the sky, and he was suddenly feeling very hungry. Instinctively, he patted his shirt pocket.
Peep wasn’t there.
Code grabbed a handful of grass and tore it from the ground. It was all just a dream?! But Peep had been his friend. And Gary. His grandfather. I finally did something, thought Code. Instead of just thinking about it, I went out and risked my life. Or I thought I did. Was it in my imagination after all?
Disappointed and confused, Code stood up and dusted himself off. He yawned and stretched. Without Peep’s reassuring presence, he already felt a loneliness in the pit of his stomach.
And the worst part, he thought, is that nobody will ever believe me.
Code picked up his backpack and shuffled down the hill to join the class. The students were gathered around Mr. Mefford as he collected the worksheets.
“Nice of you to join us, Code,” said Mr. Mefford. “Worksheet?”
Code patted his pockets. He didn’t have the worksheet on him anywhere.
“I must have lost it,” he said.
Mr. Mefford frowned at Code. “Well, you’ll have to make it up when we get back to school. Don’t think you’re off the hook.”
Mr. Mefford continued to collect worksheets from the other students. Code ran his fingers through his hair, in a daze. Where could his sheet have gone?
Tyler walked over to Code, a mean smirk on his face. With a bulging backpack slung over his shoulders, Tyler looked like an angry turtle. He snapped the shoulder straps together over his chest and the waist straps around his hips.
“Smooth move, Code. I thought you were mister know-it-all?”
“It’s not what I know, it’s what I do,” replied Code. And without thinking about it, he reached out and unsnapped Tyler’s chest fastener, sending the heavy backpack flopping to the ground, the waist strap yanking Tyler’s pants down around his ankles.
Tyler yelped and tried to catch his bag and his pants at the same time. But it was too late. Sylvia and Zachary giggled as Tyler staggered around, trying desperately to pull up his pants. Code covered his mouth and tried not to laugh.
Mr. Mefford noticed and put his hands on his hips.
“Stop clowning around,” he said.
“Code did it,” whined Tyler.
Mr. Mefford looked at Code questioningly. Code shrugged, sheepish. Surprisingly, Mr. Mefford winked at Code and stifled a small smile.
“Then you probably deserved it,” he said, and then clapped his hands together. “Everybody on the bus! The field trip is over. Time to get back to school.”
On the way to the bus, Code noticed Hazel looking at him curiously. He raised his eyebrows and looked back. And this time, neither one of them looked away.
“Hi,” said Hazel.
Code blinked in surprise. Hazel hadn’t said three words to him since second grade.
“Hi.”
“You look different,” she said. “Have your eyes always been that color?”
Code touched his face. “Why? What color are they?”
“Brown. I mean green. Gray? I don’t know. I can’t really describe it.”
Code blinked again and then froze. His eyes had just taken a picture of Hazel. She stood framed by the massive mound, long, sunlit hair cascading over her shoulders and her eyes wide and curious—a question on her face. Clearing his vision, Code smiled at Hazel. “I guess they must have changed,” he said.
Perplexed, she gave him a half smile and swung her backpack onto one shoulder.
“Oh,” she said. “Talk to you later, okay?”
Speechless, Code nodded, then watched her go.
A minute later, Code stepped onto the crowded school bus and sat down in the very last row. The first row is safe, he thought. But the last row is more interesting. As the bus pulled out of the parking lot, however, he began to feel very strange. His stomach made a worrisome gurgling sound. His nose twitched, his eyes jerked closed, and he let out the biggest sneeze of his life.
At the end of this stupendous nasal explosion, something extraordinary happened—Peep fluttered out of Code’s mouth. She buzzed happily against his face, then dove toward his book bag. While she flopped around inside, Code scanned the faces of the other students in microscopic detail to make sure no one had seen. They hadn’t.
Looking down, he saw that Peep was tugging on a history book. Code took it out and set it on his lap. Flickering through the air, Peep pulled the book open and flipped pages. Finally, Peep settled herself onto a page and chirped urgently up at Code.
Code saw that Peep was sitting on the section about Mound Builders. On the page under her feet was a crude map, sprinkled with dots. It dawned on Code that each dot on the map represented another mound—there were dozens, all over the country.
“Oh, boy,” muttered Code.
And before anyone could see, the ecstatic little bot darted straight into his shirt pocket. Code put one hand protectively over her and smiled to himself. It felt good to have the warm lump of metal over his heart again.
* * *
[Traverse Initiated]
[Three]
[Two]
[One]
[Activate]
[The End]
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to the people who helped this book along its circuitous path:
Members of the Big Brain Trust for reading drafts and providing feedback, sometimes on the stormy coast of Oregon: Marc Acito, Courtenay Hameister, Storm Large, Christine McKinley, and Cynthia Whitcomb.
My editors at Bloomsbury, Melanie Cecka and Margaret Miller, for hanging on patiently while this book figured out what to be when it grew up.
My literary agent, Laurie Fox, and manager, Justin Manask, for always bringing their A game.
Dan Stern for his etymological skills.
My wife, Anna, for pointing out the bad stuff before the good stuff.
And finally, my heartfelt thanks go out to everyone who visits Mekhos. Remember not to stay too long in the Toparian Wyldes, and try not to startle the atomic slaughterbots—they’re more delicate than they look.
Also by Daniel H. Wilson
FOR CHILDREN:
Bro-Jitsu
FOR ADULTS:
How to Survive a Robot Uprising
Where’s My Jetpack?
How to Build a Robot Army
First published in Great Britain 2011
Copyright © Daniel H. Wilson 2011
This electronic edition published 2010 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
The right of Daniel H. Wilson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 36 Soho Square, London W1D 3QY
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978 1 4088 1778 0
www.bloomsbury.com/danielhwilson
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Code Lightfall and the Robot King Page 13