Jake took it and shoved it in his back pocket. He planned on throwing it away as soon as that was safely possible. He turned to go when he saw Megan taking a gun down from the wall.
“Unh-uh,” D said, grabbing it away from her. “I don’t trust you. You don’t get a choice.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
The three of them emerged through the secret door in the school. The lockers swung back and closed automatically behind them once they were out of the maze. D grabbed Jake’s arm and pointed at the lockers across the hall from the secret door. “Listen,” he said. “What I have planned may not work. If it doesn’t—go to my old locker. It’s number 1337, right there.”
Jake nodded.
“The combination is the same as on your locker.”
“How do you know his combination?” Megan asked, in a whisper.
D shrugged. “I know all the combinations. There are only about five different ones. I’ve been coming back here at night, sometimes. I’ve been coming back for years. It’s taken me that long to get together the stuff I need. This way, if you’re with me. Or you can just head off on your own, if you think your chances are better that way.”
Another choice. Jake looked up and down the hallway. Clusters of sleeping bodies lay before the classroom doors. Half the wrestling team was in an unconscious heap before Mr. Brosnahan’s metal shop. At the far end of the hall he could just see Mr. Dzama, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling.
Jake followed D, and Megan followed him.
They came eventually to a place where two corridors intersected. Jake thought they must be near the center of the school, halfway between the front doors and the back of the school, where the guidance office lay. There was a janitor’s closet there—the same one he and Megan had hid inside after he passed the test with the black- and white-masked Proctors. Where he’d last asked her to kiss him, and where she’d refused.
D opened the door and revealed that the closet was stuffed with black trash bags, all of them stuffed full and tied at one end. They definitely hadn’t been there before. “This is what took me the most time. They don’t just sell this stuff in hardware stores. Give me a hand.”
Jake and Megan helped him remove the bags from the closet one by one and stack them in a rough pyramid. It was hard, sweaty work—the bags were extremely heavy and there were a lot of them—and after awhile Jake started getting tired. Rather than placing it neatly, he tried tossing one onto the top of the growing pile, but D called out, “Careful! This stuff isn’t exactly stable.”
“What is it?” Megan asked.
“It’s a mixture of fertilizer and a couple other ingredients, baked and then compressed into bricks. It’s got an extremely high reaction velocity and a low flashpoint, which makes it ideal for this kind of work.”
Jake got very little of that except the part about fertilizer. “What exactly is it supposed to achieve? Don’t tell me we’re starting a farm.”
“Of course not,” D said, placing the last bag at the top of the pyramid. Then he took out the complicated device he’d assembled down the maze’s machine shop. “It’s a bomb.”
Very carefully, he tore a hole in one of the sacks. For a second Jake smelled turpentine or maybe kerosene, and then D slid the pronged end of his device into the bag, a hair’s breadth at a time.
“We’re directly above the maze, here,” he told them. “Specifically, we’re above the cloning vats. If the explosion is big enough—and it had better be, after all the trouble I went through to get this stuff—it’ll wipe out the entire complex, including the school. Millions upon millions of dollars worth of equipment, files, and test results will go up in one quick flash. The Curriculum will never recover from a loss like that. And of course,” he said, “Zuraw will be right here in the middle of the blast.”
“How do you know that?” Jake asked.
“Because by now he’s figured out you’re not on the soccer field. Which means that in what, two minutes? He’ll be standing right here, probably pointing a gun at me. Know your enemy, Jake.”
D twisted a knob on the side of his device—a detonator, Jake realized—and the digital readout flashed 05:00. Immediately it began counting down: 04:59. 04:58.
“You two just have time to get out of here. Get as far away as you can—the other side of the football stadium should do it, if I’ve calculated everything just right.”
“Jake,” Megan whispered.
He ignored her. He was sure he’d heard wrong—
“You’re going to stay? You’re going to die like this?” he asked D. “After surviving for so long?” He couldn’t believe it.
“I want to see the look on his face. His face, which is my face, all grown up. I’ve made my choice. You don’t get to argue with it,” D told him.
“Jake!” Megan hissed.
Both D and Jake twisted around to look at her. Of course, Jake thought, D would still respond when he heard that name called—
“I’m not sure if you noticed,” she told them, “but every student in this school is lying on the floor here! If you set this bomb off right now, you’ll kill every single one of them.”
“She’s right. Turn it off,” Jake said.
“No.” D smiled. “I knew there would be some casualties. I’m willing to accept that.”
“I’m not,” Jake said. “Turn it off. Or show me how.” He took the stun gun out of his pocket. It had a simple trigger on one end, and a part you pointed at the person you wanted to stun. He pointed it at D.
The expression that crossed D’s face hurt Jake to see. It was a look of betrayal and anger. This other self—this older, wiser self who had taught Jake so much in so little time—was judging him and finding him a failure. It felt a lot worse than getting a FAIL.
Then D’s eyes narrowed and he started reaching for his pocket. “He got to you,” D said. “Zuraw put you up to this.”
“No,” Jake said. “Now, turn it off.”
D’s hand came out of his pocket with a pistol clutched in it. “I should have known. After all this time… he couldn’t just let me go. He’s been searching for me for years. I thought I was free—but you never get free. He knew I would come back for you, that I would risk exposure if it meant a chance to save you, even just one of you. He set me up. This is my last test, isn’t it? Except I can’t pass it. He’s going to show up now and kill me.”
“You’re being paranoid,” Megan told D. But D didn’t look at her.
He was looking only at Jake. “Come on out, Zuraw. Show yourself.”
“Stop it,” Jake said. “Stop the timer. Then all three of us will leave here together. We can escape. We can find somebody who will listen to us, who will send police, real police here to stop the Curriculum—”
D raised his pistol and pointed it at Jake’s face.
Jake wanted to run away, but he didn’t. There had to be a way to make D understand that what he was doing was wrong. “If you blow this place up now, the two clones downstairs will die with you,” he tried.
“They haven’t been born yet. It’s better if they die now so they don’t have to go through the tests. If you were me—if you were one of me, one of us—you would understand that. I’m not going to stop it.” He pressed the gun against Jake’s forehead.
The muzzle was very cold, and very hard.
“You know it’s not like that. I just don’t want to see anybody hurt. My best friend is around here somewhere, sleeping. His name is Cody Strindberg and he doesn’t deserve to die. Neither do I. I know you won’t shoot me,” Jake said. “You can’t. It would be like shooting yourself.”
“Jake,” Megan whispered. “Jake, we’re running out of time!”
“Go ahead and shoot me,” D said. He lifted the gun away from Jake’s head. “It’s what you’re supposed to do, right? What you have to do.”
“No,” Jake said. “It’s what I choose.” He jabbed the stun gun into D’s chest and pressed the trigger. There was a very abrupt, very loud n
oise and a faint sizzle. D dropped to the flooor, his limbs flopping wildly.
“Jake!” Megan screamed. “He was the only one who knew how to turn off the bomb!”
“Then I’ll just have to figure it out without help,” he told her. “I’ve gotten pretty good at problem solving.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Jake shoved the stun gun in his pocket and knelt down next to the detonator. The digital display read 01:03. He wanted to just run away, to get as far away as possible, but he doubted there would be enough time even for that.
He could just pull the detonator out of the explosive bag. That would seem like the logical thing to do. But he was pretty sure D was smarter than that. If he just pulled it out, it might go off automatically. If he tried to disassemble it where it was, it might go off anyway. He had no idea how it worked, or what might trigger it.
There was nothing to lose by trying, except maybe a minute off his life. No. Fifty-nine seconds.
He tried to remember how D had put the thing together. He looked down at his double on the floor and saw that D had at least stopped twitching so much. He hoped his older self hadn’t hit his head on the floor when he fell. There was still so much he could teach Jake, so much he must know about that Jake couldn’t even imagine yet. If he could just defuse the bomb, he and Megan could carry D out of the school, they could—
One thing at a time, he told himself.
There had been four main pieces to the detonator. There was the digital time, a battery pack, and the pronged part at the end that made sparks when it was activated. Jake could see how it worked. Power from the battery pack was flowing toward the spark generator but was resisted by the timer. When the timer reached 00:00, it would complete a circuit which would activate the spark generator, which would ignite the fertilizer bricks in the bag, starting a chain reaction. It was pretty simple. Jake saw the solution right away—kind of. He had to remove a wire leading from the battery pack to the timer, so that it could never make a complete circuit. He remembered this kind of problem from back in junior high when they’d done basic electronics in science class.
Actually, though, that had never happened. He’d never been in junior high. Everything he thought he knew was suspect—all of his memories had been fed to him while he was still growing in the clone tank. Everything he believed, everything he’d ever taken for granted, was concocted by Mr. Zuraw so that he would think he’d had a normal childhood. Lies. All of it, just lies.
“Jake!” Megan shouted.
He looked down at the timer. 00:42.
He had to focus. He’d been shocked and horrified and disillusioned, all so fast his brain was having trouble keeping everything he was feeling inside his skull. He’d had his whole world turned upside down. But it didn’t mean he could stop what he was doing.
He had to pull one of the wires. He studied the timer and the various wires coming in and out of it. Which wire? Which one did he pull? In the movies when a spy or a superhero had to defuse a bomb there was always a red wire and a blue wire, and almost always the hero was supposed to pull the red wire. These wires, however, were all white. If he pulled the wrong one he could cause a short circuit. That would send power to the spark generator for a split second. Just long enough to set off the bomb.
“Now, Jake. Do it now. Take a guess if you have to.”
Logic problems were fun because there was always a simple answer… not like real life at all…
Jake looked up when he heard footsteps coming down the corridor toward him. “Hello, Jake,” Mr. Zuraw said. The guidance counselor was followed by a dozen Proctors in mirrored masks. They must have just come from the soccer field. Mr. Zuraw bent down next to D’s prostrate body. “Well, this is intriguing. What do we have here? Two of them. The one who got away! And the one who didn’t want to complete his scheduled test, even though he knew it would mean a failing grade.”
“I’ll explain later. Right now, just help me,” Jake begged. “Kill me afterwards if you have to, but help me stop this bomb. Please.”
The timer read 00:17.
“Get him up on his feet,” Mr. Zuraw said, directing two Proctors to pick up D. “Take him behind the gym. I’ll deal with him shortly.”
“You don’t understand what’s happening here,” Jake said. “Please. A lot of people are going to die if you don’t help me!”
“Part of the Curriculum,” Mr. Zuraw said, squatting down next to Jake, “that students must take their own tests, without any help from the Proctors. It’s always been that way and I see no reason to change now.”
00:04. There was no time left.
Jake pulled one of the wires off of its terminal.
00:03. At least there was no short circuit. At least—
00:02. Jake held his breath. Had he done enough? Or did he need to pull two wires? He just didn’t know.
00:01. Jake’s whole body tensed up, ready for the explosion, even though he knew he would never feel a thing, it would all happen far too quickly, faster than the speed of sound, his body would be vaporized instantly and—
And—
He opened his eyes. The timer showed 00:00. Then, digit by digit, it changed. When it was done it read:
FA:IL
Mr. Zuraw turned to the Proctors behind him. “Take these two away as well. The girl is overdue for long-term suspension. As for H—well. It’s been a good run, but all things must come to an end.”
“I don’t think so,” Megan said. She had D’s pistol clutched in both her hands. It trembled in her tight grip, but it was pointed right at Mr. Zuraw’s face.
“Ms. Gottschalk, you’re making a very bad mistake,” Mr. Zuraw said, walking slowly towards her with his hand out. “Give me the gun, please.”
“I’ll kill you if you take another step,” Megan shouted.
Mr. Zuraw stopped in place and smiled.
“They’re not afraid to die,” Jake whispered.
“They’re afraid of something. Otherwise, why aren’t they shooting?” Megan took a cautious step toward the Mr. Zuraw.
The Proctors didn’t move a muscle.
Megan lowered her gun to the level of the guidance counselor’s chest and cocked it carefully. “Jake and I are going to walk out of the school, and run very far away. You won’t see us again. Or you can die right now.”
Nobody moved.
“You have five seconds to decide,” Megan said, nearly spitting with sarcasm. “A lack of response will result in an automatic failure condition.”
Mr. Zuraw grinned wickedly. Then he put his hands up and turned around and walked away. He didn’t run, didn’t even seem to be in a hurry. He just walked around the corner and was gone. The Proctors followed him without comment.
Jake and Megan watched them go. Jake exhaled noisily when they finally disappeared, and he realized he had both been holding his breath.
“Oh, thank God,” Megan said. “He fell for it.”
“What?” Jake asked.
“I can’t shoot somebody in cold blood, Jake. I’m not crazy. Phew!”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Jake’s eyes went wide. “So we’re just going to run away? How far do you think they’ll let us get?”
Megan laughed. “I don’t know!” Her eyes were too bright as if she’d gone a little bit crazy.
Jake was confused. He couldn’t imagine Mr. Zuraw just giving up, not so easily. He must know something that Jake didn’t. “This feels wrong, like a—” Before he could finish his thought she pushed him up against a row of lockers and stared into his eyes. Her look made him feel overheated and sweaty.
She leaned in and kissed him hard, running the fingers of her free hand through his hair. Her other hand still held the gun.
“We’ll go away and live in the mountains, like D did,” she said. Her voice was high-pitched and giddy. “Or to the city, and we’ll live under a bridge. Who cares? We’ll be together. There’s no future here. No future for you—I saw those clone tanks. No future for me. I know
too much. It’s funny,” she said, “how free you can feel when you’ve got no options left.”
Jake was so confused. He’d received his third FAIL, according to the timer on the bomb he’d defused. He’d saved the school but it meant sacrificing himself. And now—and now—
And now he was with Megan, and she was kissing him again, which had to be worth something. And they were still alive. And nobody was trying to stop them.
He knew perfectly well that it couldn’t last.
Megan apparently didn’t see it that way. She grabbed his hand as she ran down the hall. Her face was flushed but her eyes were sparkling.
They made it halfway down the corridor before stopping again.
“Did you hear that?” Jake asked.
The intercoms in the ceiling started to crackle. The growling voice said “Wake,” and all around them Jake heard conversations starting up again, heard teachers lecturing in bored monotone voices. From outside he could hear a lawn mower pacing back and forth on the baseball field. In the hallway students started rising to their feet, their faces blank at first but instantly lighting up with interrupted expressions, laughing, talking about nothing, adjusting their bookbags, drinking from water fountains.
Megan looked surprised but not very much afraid. “What are they doing?” she asked, almost casually.
The bell rang to signal the start of the next period. A moment later classroom doors opened all up and down the hallway and students started pouring in, clutching books to their chests or slinging knapsacks over their shoulders. They filled up the hallway on either side, blocking Megan and Jake from running in either direction.
Then somebody saw the gun.
Jake could not have said later where the panic started. He had a front row seat to watch it grow, however. It went from face to face as students grabbed at each other, howled out warnings, knocked each other down trying to get away. The braver among them held their arms out at their sides, as if they could protect their friends behind them. Some of the students started crying, spontaneously, without saying a word.
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