The Children of Hamelin

by Danny Lasko

Linus gawks at Annie, who tells me the bad news.

  “It’s underwater,” she says finally. “Because of the quake.”

  “Along with the rest of the old West Coast,” I add.

  “Well, maybe,” says Linus. “The waters have receded faster in the southern corner. We might get lucky.”

  “What about its condition? Isn’t it just a bunch of ruins now?” I ask, wondering if Pock is sending us on a wild goose chase for artifacts that no longer exist because of the damage this country has suffered in the last century.

  “I’m going to say not as much,” answers Linus, “because the water rose gradually over the city of San Diego, like high tide, as opposed to a tidal wave crashing over it. I want to say that it’s just as it was, only very, very wet.”

  “Of course, it’s been seventy years, so it could have collapsed by now,” adds Annie.

  “Thanks, gal. That’s very reassuring.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “So somehow, Pock and L. Frank Baum are connected.”

  “Yes, and my guess is he won’t be the only famous witness we’ll come across before we’re finished. Look at notes one, four, and seven. ”

  “No, let’s keep our minds on the first one. California. Wait, where are we now?”

  “The Wasatch Range,” says Linus. “Not far from what’s left of Salt Lake City and about seven-hundred-plus miles from where San Diego once stood.”

  “Good work, Linus. Not sure I would have ever gotten any of this. Okay,” I say. “I guess I have to go talk to my dad.”

  “Horatio,” calls Annie before I leave, “he’s on our side.”

  It occurs to me that had the Synarch outlawed books and movies and other entertainment, we would not have had a prayer in solving Pock’s riddles. At least this one. But the Citizens loved them too much. We even had to take mandatory film and literature courses at the academy. Storytelling and performance students are immersed in books, movies, and plays of every stripe. I guess the fear of eliminating their entertainment outweighed the danger of “ideas.” I guess when you have a system that was built from the ground up to prevent uprisings and rebellions, it’s not much of an issue.

  A sense of urgency picks my feet up a bit quicker, and I find myself in the largest room yet. I had to cross a number of bridges and descend a spiraling set of stairs along a massive tree trunk to get here. Long, bright lights shine down from above, illuminating stretching workbenches, sheds, and monstrous machines. So this is where my dad has been since, you know, forever. I take a deep breath before I enter, which is good because I can’t catch the rest of it for several minutes thanks to what I see in here.

  The room is enormous, much more than it appears to be from outside. Deep and wide with impossibly high ceilings. This must be the largest tree in the forest—and the one with the most secrets hidden inside.

  I can’t begin to guess what most of the stuff is for. I see transport machines, including the one that picked me up from the stadium. Others with massive wheels, a few that appear to be just big enough for someone to stand on.

  Tools, weapons, food dispensers, lights, computers and digital tablets, communication devices. There’s enough in this room alone that could change the world. With or without the Soul.

  My dad is hunched over a worktable, using very small instruments on a very small something.

  “Oh, you’re here,” he says, suddenly realizing he’s not alone. “Annie said you’re going underwater,” he says. He’s nervous. I let him be nervous.

  “Yeah, some kind of castle that flooded during the quake.”

  “Wow, so this is going to be a real adventure, huh?”

  All I can do is offer a faint nod.

  “Here, I’m just finishing these up,” he says, handing me a small piece of tube with a tiny plastic egg fastened to it. “It’s a breathing apparatus. You just pinch it between your nostrils, and it pulls the oxygen straight out of the water. I’ve already tested it.”

  “You made and tested this?” I ask, just now seeing his wet hair freshly combed. “Just in the time that Annie told you we might have to swim?”

  “Pretty simple, really. They’re already packed up in your coats, ready to go when you leave.”

  “Coats?”

  He leads me over to a coat rack where I see at least a dozen dusters hanging. I can’t quite make out the material, something between canvas and a rough leather. A small brown one, one that’s dark blue, and a green coat that perfectly matches Annie’s eyes are separated from the others.

  “This isn’t because of your cowboy thing, is it?” I ask, trying to lighten the awkwardness in the air.

  “The duster is about the most efficient coat design in existence. It is now, anyway, after my modifications. The lining hides the same temperature system you find in your Escape uniform, which will keep you warm at night and cool during the day, whatever you need. It’s a little about the cowboy thing.”

  He pulls the blue one from its hanger and holds it out for me to wear. It’s lighter than I thought it would be, and a few quick movements show me that not only was it made to fit me exactly, it moves so well that it actually amplifies my movements instead of hinders them. It’s a work of art.

  “We have magnificent tailors here,” he says with all seriousness. “I’ve also made a sheath for your sword—I assume you’ll take it with you—that will naturally form itself to its shape and fasten directly onto the duster. I also made this.”

  He holds up another long black sheath. The material is thick and firm, giving it a more fixed shape than the sword’s sheath.

  “For the pipe,” he explains. “Carrying it around in that box would be a nuisance, don’t you think?”

  “Dad,” I begin.

  “Packs, already loaded with extra gear, including a couple of changes of clothes, tents, food, water, flashlights—which will never go dark on you—a video com with the game recordings, I don’t know, it might offer a clue. It’s also plugged into the interwebs with an untraceable ID so you can monitor the Synarch’s public actions. And it’s also your tracking and communication device that will keep you in touch with us. But I’ve saved the best for last.”

  He leads me over to one of the hovercraft, a sleek, beautiful machine of metal and glass. It’s smaller than the one they used to pick me up from the Tower, but the shape is similar. Deep silver with dark blue trim. The nose points out below and beyond the windshield with a double-barreled turret on its crown.

  “It holds four,” he says. “I call it the Spirit. Let me show you the best part. I’ve been working on it for years, but about six months ago, I nailed it.”

  He pushes a button on a remote control, and the ship disappears. I take a step back and then forward, reaching my hand out to where the Spirit once was. My hand hits the invisible hull.

  “Awesome,” I respond. The adrenaline and hope build inside me. Maybe we can do this.

  “Yeah, I’m very happy with it. And thankful, now that it’s you who will be using it. Plus, she’s fully loaded with weapons strong enough to take out anything the Synarch might have including their cruisers.” He stops pointing and explaining and holds the pipe’s sheath tight with both hands. I know what he’s thinking because I’m thinking it, too. But how do you cover so many years of conflict in a few minutes?

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Of course. You’re going to need it, Raysh. And I can’t tell you how proud … proud I am of you.”

  He nods his head, and his eyes well up. It embarrasses me. One, because he’s always been so hard and cold. And two, because I realize that I’ve always wanted to hear those words. But it doesn’t last long. He’s only proud because I’m here, where he thinks it’s important. I want to tell him I’m not doing it for him. Or for the Children. And that if I have to make the choice
, there’s no way I’m sacrificing this world for his fairy tale. But I don’t. Because I want the moment–this moment–to last just a little longer.

  Suddenly, a piercing screech echoes through the chasmic chamber.

  “What was that?” asks my father. My mind immediately goes to last night in the trees, and I rush out the door. There’s nothing to see out of the ordinary, but my thumping heart tells me something’s wrong. Then I hear it. An alarm of some kind passing through the forest.

  “We’re under attack!” calls my dad. “Go find your friends. Meet back here!” He shoves the pipe’s sheath in my hand.

  “Where are you going?!”

  “Defenses!”

  I watch him rush out of sight before I leap the spiraling stairs up the trunk and over the bridges, skipping the smaller ones, going from tree to tree.

  “Over the western range! Ten cruisers, maybe more!” voices cry out above me. I don’t stop to look. I know what cruisers look like. The Synarch has found us.

  I slide into the music room. “We’re going. Now.”

  I grab the pipe and slide it into the sheath, securing it, slinging it over my left shoulder.

  Annie and Linus have already packed up the nine notes and gathered their personal things. A massive blast and the tree we’re standing in shakes and swerves. We rush out the door and try to get our bearings. Three of the surrounding trees are on fire.

  “Head toward the workshop,” I say, heading away from my team.

  “That’s not the way to the workshop!” cries Linus.

  I look up but still can’t see the Synarch cruisers. I push through the chaos to my room, grab the sword, slide it into its new sheath, and fling the thing over my right shoulder just before I’m propelled out of the room by the blast hitting my tree. I’m able to roll, push myself to my feet, and make it across the bridge just as my room is consumed by flame.

  I flash forward. I choose the options that keep me alive. I make it to my parents’ room, but my mom and sisters are already gone. Bridges burn and break all around me. By now, I’m hearing a second kind of blast, seeing blue streaks of light flashing up and away instead of down and toward us. My dad must have gotten the defenses up. The Synarch blasts are farther away now, as if they’re being blocked from the trees. But the cruisers have done their damage. Trees burn in every direction.

  And then I see them. Linus and Annie huddle on the deck of a tree where all exits are burning. The flames lick at them from both above and below, quickly inhaling bark and needles. They’ve grabbed one of the stray a ropes hanging all around. None of them are close enough to me that leaping for them wouldn’t be a risk.

  JUMPFORLEFTROPE miss fall to death JUMPFORFARLEFTROPE miss fall to death JUMPFORCENTERROPE grab hold weight breaks rope fall to death JUMPFORRIGHTROPE miss fall to death CROSSSOUTHBRIDGE Annie and Linus burned alive.

  “Come on!” I cry. Annie’s rope burns about six feet above them. I start to cross the bridge south of me but stop, knowing that I can’t defeat my mind’s vision. I’m trapped and helpless.

  Without warning, another screech fills the air around me and I spot the blue eagle from last night. He swoops down from the upper branches and grabs the left rope in his beak and pulls it toward me. I grab it. Linus and Annie hold the rope together and launch themselves. I flash forward. I hold off for exactly two seconds. I launch myself from the deck, aiming not for the same deck as my team but for the rope. Annie’s rope breaks at the burn just as I cross lanes with them. I grab the flailing piece right on the burning end. My hand screams in opposition, but I will myself to hold my grip. I swing Annie and Linus over the workshop deck. They tumble off safely. It takes a couple of tries and a lot of body swinging, but I soon join them.

  The workshop’s been hit. A gaping hole burns at the far side of the room. Many of the machines are melted or otherwise destroyed. But we get lucky. The Spirit looks to be unharmed so far.

  I toss Annie and Linus their dusters and packs and tell them to get in the ship and fire it up. I’m praying Linus’s intuition can fly it. I stand outside the craft’s door, waiting for my father. A firey yellow blast hits just outside.

  “They’ve broken through!” cries Linus.

  Maybe Valor and my parents were right. Maybe even with our power, we’re no match for the Synarch’s might.

  The workshop starts to fall apart. We can’t wait any longer. I bolt into the ship and seal the door.

  “Get us out of here, Linus!” I yell as I buckle in. He lifts the Spirit up off the ground like he’s been doing it his whole life. Finally, a break our way.

  “There’s a cloaking device!” I yell, remembering my father’s description.

  “Confirmed!” he calls and hits a button. We tear through the burning hole in the wall, and break through blazing tree branches. We rise above the treetops and see the totality of the destruction and those that caused it. A Synarch cruiser towers over us. At least ten times the size of our little ship, laden with fire-breathing weapons and armored scales, it’s more of a flying tank.

  “We’re cloaked, yeah?” I ask.

  “To the best of my knowledge,” answers Linus.

  “Um, we should go,” says Annie.

  “I’m with her,” agrees Linus.

  This is all too familiar. The cruiser, the burning. People in trouble because of me. But this time, I’m not nine.

  “Horatio!” screams the cabin speakers. A screen flickers to life. It’s Valor and my dad.

  “Horatio, can you hear me?”

  “Dad! Do you have mom, the girls?”

  “They’re out. Good,” he says to others who must be listening in. “Your mother–”

  “Listen to me, Horatio,” interrupts Valor. “This is not your fight. Do not engage the Synarch!”

  “I can help,” I call.

  “Go!” Valor cries through the com.

  “Raysh, we gotta go!” calls out Annie.

  “We have your location, Horatio,” says my dad. “We’ll track you from here. I’ve set a beacon on your navigation for a rendezvous. We’ll see you there. Don’t be—”

  A monstrous blast knocks us back, but no damage is done. The Spirit’s video com flickers. The speakers are more static than communication, but we hear screams and orders being yelled.

  “Horatio!” cries Linus.

  “Go!” I say, unbuckling my harness. I leap into a gun turret on the roof. Controls to the weapon sit at my chest. I grab hold, and digital sights appear on the glass bubble around me. It reminds me of the helmet’s controls in the Escape. It gives me readings on the war machines surrounding us, the type of ships they are, the armor they carry, and their vulnerabilities.

  I see the one firing on the Children’s control tower. It rapidly releases glowing yellow discs from its two front guns.

  I fire our own weapons, but nothing happens! I notice the blinking warning on the glass telling me I can’t fire when cloaked.

  “Uncloak us now!”

  “What?!”

  “Just do it, Linus, or they’re dead!”

  The warning light pops green, and I fire on the attacking cruiser. I focus in on the two front guns first, blowing them away with very little effort. It was a small target, but I’ve hit worse. I aim for the armor’s seams, ripping a small gash along the right side of it.

  “Stay in front of it, Linus. They can’t hit us!”

  I fire again at the gash, opening it a bit wider until the readout shows the power source, screaming at me that a direct hit will destroy the machine. I don’t hesitate. My shot blows the power source and the machine into a burning ball of scrap metal. Accuracy. Soul power number three.

  “Down one!” I yell, watching the behemoth being consumed by the burning trees below.

  “Raysh! There’s more!” />
  I whirl around to see my next target. I have more than one to choose from. I flash forward and am not happy with what I see. No victory.

  “Move, Linus, move! Into the trees!”

  Linus darts back down into the forest, dodging giant pines and fire discs from the cruisers. For a first time out, Linus is an incredible pilot. But not good enough. A fire disc tears through the Spirit’s tail and puts us in a spin toward the ground. I nearly jump out of the turret to get back to my seat when I feel the flash of heat on my cheek. I look back to the Garden—or at least where the Garden should be—and see nothing but smoke, fire, and flying debris. The entire camp has been destroyed.

  I fall from the turret and somehow get back to my seat.

  “This is gonna hurt!” warns Linus.

  “We’ll make it,” I say, shaking the images of the Garden. “Hit the cloak!”

  Mercifully, the cloak works and the fire discs stop. But impact is inevitable. The ground hits us hard enough to tear the Spirit’s nose from its face. We tumble and roll and dig a trench into the forest earth, banking off giant trunks, spinning us silly. Finally, with a few last metallic creaks and groans, the Spirit comes to a stop.

  The cockpit is in remarkable shape considering, as are we. I unbuckle myself and reach for my pack, pulling things out until I find the portable video com.

  “Dad!” I yell at the static screen. “Dad!”

  I kick open the hatchway and spill outside. The crisp, unmolested air shocks me for a second before I can catch my breath.

  “Dad!” I can’t get a signal. I search the trees, the ground, everything around me for an answer, but none comes. I stumble and drop myself to the base of one of the giant trees, still pressing buttons, calling for anyone to answer the video com. the panicked sadness twists itself around my chest, down into my stomach. It’s hard to breathe. I try to shake it off, reminding myself that I know nothing, I have no idea what happened, and that I’m overreacting. But if my fears are true, then we’re on our own. All the more reason to keep it together.