Masterminds

by Gordon Korman

  A whimper from Amber reaches me through the open window, and by the time I process what that might mean, I feel it too—the nauseated stomach, the pain and pressure in my head.

  Oh no! The barrier—it’s still there!

  The onset is sudden and overwhelming—a blinding, searing agony that grips our entire bodies, blotting out everything else.

  It’s our speed, I think, struggling to maintain control of the truck. We’re not on bikes this time; we’re blasting into the heart of the barrier at sixty miles per hour!

  Tori is half out of her seat, doubled over and retching. Above me I hear Malik hacking furiously at the dish in a last-ditch effort to destroy it before it destroys us. Hector is screaming; Amber is moaning. It’s a nightmare moment of total chaos, but even worse than our suffering is the crushing reality that we’ve lost. The choice we face is grim in the extreme: We can turn around and be dragged back to live the rest of our lives as prisoners and lab rats. Or we can go forward and die.

  Total failure. We were in such a hurry to get Malik out of town by Serenity Day that we patched together a plan without really thinking it through. How could we be so crazy as to believe that we could knock out a sophisticated high-tech barrier system with gardening tools? Even now, through the waves of nausea and torture, I hear the whack, whack, whack of Malik relentlessly pummeling the dish, never giving up, although the hoe in his hand is inadequate to get the job done.

  He fights valiantly on. The hoe may be puny, but it’s the only weapon we’ve got . . .

  All at once, through the fog that’s coming down over my eyes, it dawns on me that we do have another weapon.

  We have a speeding truck!

  I scream at Tori, “Get me an orange cone!”

  She’s so lost in her misery that it takes a few seconds before she realizes I’m talking to her.

  I scream again. “A cone! Now!”

  Moving like a ninety-year-old, she eases her upper body out the window. There’s some shouted conversation over the engine noise, and when she comes back into the cab, she’s holding out a traffic cone. I take it and scan the road ahead in the high beams. To my right is a deepening valley; on the left, desert pines announce the edge of the Carson National Forest.

  “Get ready to jump,” I tell Tori.

  “What? Jump? Why?”

  There’s no time for an explanation, because up ahead the lights illuminate exactly what I was looking for. A weather-beaten sign warns of a sharp left turn directly ahead. Just beyond it, a line of white-painted wooden posts follow the curve of the road.

  I grab the cone and jam it into the gas pedal, wedging it against the front of my seat. The truck surges forward, the speedometer leaping past seventy.

  “Now!” I bark at Tori.

  With a terrified cry, she throws open the passenger door and hurls herself out. I try to make sure that she’s clear of the giant tires, but she’s already far behind, and whatever happened, happened.

  Still keeping one hand on the wheel, I open my own door and step out onto the running board. “Jump!” I howl at the three in the payload. “Do it! Now!”

  At this speed, the simple act of dropping from the truck is like being hurled violently backward. I count two jumpers not three. The smallest figure is still there—Hector, frozen in fear, hanging on to the mesh gate at the rear.

  “Hector, ju-u-ump!!”

  I can’t be sure if he goes or not, because at that instant, I’m out of time. The warning sign flashes past. The white-painted posts are hurtling toward me; beyond them lies the drop into the valley. It’s now or never.

  I fling myself into the night. I feel the pull of the slipstream as the truck barrels past. My momentum carries me to a gravelly shoulder, and I’m slammed down as if by a giant hand. I look up just in time to see the cone truck bashing through the line of posts and sailing over the precipice. It has a rough ride. I can hear it bouncing off boulders and crashing through underbrush, taking out trees. I’ve lost sight of it now, but I know when it hits bottom. An enormous explosion rocks the countryside, and a huge fireball rises up into the sky, momentarily turning the valley bright as high noon.

  This is our Serenity Day fireworks, I think to myself with a stab of savage satisfaction. They definitely saw it from town. It was probably visible from the International Space Station.

  I am scraped and bruised and bleeding all over. Everything hurts, and yet for some reason, I feel terrific. It takes a moment before I realize why. The paralyzing headache and nausea are gone. When the truck blew up, it took the barrier generator with it.

  A rush of exhilaration comes over me. The walls of our prison were never brick and mortar, but they were just as real. For the first time in our lives, we’re free.

  We. The word snaps my mind back to the others. I hope they’re okay. I made it, so surely they did, too, didn’t they?

  My sense of triumph goes cold as I think of Hector. Did he get off in time? And even if he did, a lot can go wrong jumping from a vehicle moving at seventy miles an hour. You could break bones; you could slip under the wheels; you could hit your head on a rock.

  “Hector!” I call. “Tori! Amber! Malik!”

  The names echo in the stillness.

  My blood turns cold. Am I the only one alive?

  25

  TORI PRITEL

  By the time my body hits the shoulder, the speeding truck is already thirty feet past. The impact is bone-splitting. I try to see what’s happening with the others, but I’m already rolling, and the whole world is a blur. I hear someone screaming and I’m pretty sure it’s me.

  Through the whirling kaleidoscope of dark land and sky, I catch a glimpse of the yawning valley growing closer. If I go over the side, I’m dead for sure. Desperately, I reach out to grab something—anything—to stop my momentum. My fingers dig into dirt and dry grass, but it all comes away in my hands.

  Try harder! I exhort myself. It’s a long way down!

  My arms clamp around a prickly bush. Thorns pierce into my skin, but I hang on through the barrage of pain. Who knew that life is so precious? Who knew?

  When I finally stop moving, I have only a split second to celebrate my narrow escape. A half mile ahead, the cone truck smashes through the white fence posts and hurtles over the edge. My breath catches in my throat as I hear it tumbling all the way down. I see the fireball slightly before I hear the noise of the explosion, and I can’t help but think of Amber’s mom, who taught us how light travels faster than sound.

  The others, I think with a gasp of horror. I jumped; did anybody else? If they didn’t, there’s no way they could have survived.

  The pain and nausea of the barrier are gone now. We were right—it was the dish on the truck. It’s small comfort in my present situation.

  I struggle up, which is no small thing when you’re broken to pieces. There might be a couple of tiny hair follicles that don’t hurt; everything else is killing me. Tears are running down my face, not only for the fate of my poor friends, but also for myself, because what if I’m all alone out here?

  “Amber!” I call. “Eli! Malik! Hector!” My voice is raw, and thin as tracing paper. No one can hear me. The sound probably doesn’t carry more than a few feet.

  I limp along the road, enduring a symphony of pain. I was the first to jump. If anybody else made it, too, that’s where they’ll be. It isn’t far, but my ankle is on fire. I must have sprained it when I hit the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a hint of movement, and my heart leaps.

  “Amber?”

  But it isn’t Amber. It isn’t anybody. Distant lights from the direction of Serenity. Cars coming to investigate the big explosion.

  Purple People Eaters! Or worse, our parents!

  Parents! Suddenly, I feel the need to wrap my bruised body in Dad’s embrace. He’ll forgive me and tell me everything’s fine. That picture is so achingly tempting it nearly tears me in two. This nightmare can be over soon. He’ll be here in just a few minutes. All I have
to do is wait. For sure he’s in the first car . . .

  No! I shake my head as hard as I can. It sets off a firestorm of pain, but it’s worth it to clear my mind. Dad’s comfort is a lie. Dad is a lie! Our parents are on the other side and I can’t let them catch me.

  The thought urges me into action. I scramble for the woods. I’m abandoning my search for the others. But it stands to reason that any survivors will see those same headlights and run for cover too.

  I pound through the forest, sidestepping tree trunks and tripping over exposed roots. As the overhead foliage thickens into a canopy, the light of the moon and stars is lost, and I’m stumbling blind. As I flee, the logical part of my brain is screaming: Turn around before you knock yourself unconscious and never wake up again because some rattlesnake or coyote eats you!

  Then I think about my life as a prisoner and a clone, and the rattlesnakes and coyotes don’t seem that bad.

  My eyes are just beginning to adjust to the low light when the collision comes. I bounce off, the wind knocked out of me. It’s so devastating that I’m positive I’ve run full tilt into a tree.

  But trees don’t curse, and this one does.

  “Malik!” I rasp, grabbing on to him. “Don’t leave! It’s me! Tori!”

  “Tori!” Amber’s voice.

  We all start babbling at the same time until Malik suddenly interrupts. “Where’s Hector?”

  “I don’t know.” I’m brought up short. “I thought I was the only one who made it until I found you guys. What about Eli?”

  “When we jumped, he was still standing on the running board, steering,” Amber supplies breathlessly.

  “Eli can take care of himself,” Malik snaps. “We’ve got to look for the shrimp!”

  I shake my head. “We can’t. There’s a parade of cars coming up from Serenity.”

  “We’ll find him quick and then get out of here,” Malik says stubbornly.

  We form a search line, fanning out about ten feet apart. We don’t dare go any farther than that for fear of losing each other.

  We haven’t made much progress when a faint voice echoes through the woods. We practically have to tackle Malik to keep him from running off on his own.

  I call, “Over here!” but I’m still incapable of much sound.

  Not Malik, though. He has no problem mustering top volume while struggling to break free of our grip. “Hector!!”

  There’s rustling in the underbrush, and a figure joins us in the gloom. “It’s me,” says Eli.

  Eli! I thought I’d never see him again. “We’re all here except Hector,” I quaver.

  There’s a tremor in his voice. “I don’t know about Hector. I begged him to jump, but I think he was too scared. I don’t know if he got off the truck in time.”

  His words are quiet, but their impact is greater than the shock wave that came with the fireball. We’ve obviously always understood that our plan was dangerous, and that not all of us might survive it. Now we have to deal with the fact that it might have already happened—that Hector went over the side with the truck.

  We knew there’d be a price for our freedom. But we never expected Hector to pay it for the rest of us.

  “Stupid Hector!” Malik’s chest begins to heave. “Leave it to him to screw up so bad! He couldn’t manage one little thing to save his worthless life! How hard is it to fall off a truck you can barely hang on to in the first place?”

  “He did his best, Malik,” I offer gently. “He just froze up. He must have been really terrified.”

  “He’s useless!” Malik raves. “Who did they clone him from—a baboon? And when he really needed me”—his voice catches in his throat—“I wasn’t there!”

  We stand in mute astonishment. Malik, who doesn’t care about anything or anybody, is crying! He covers his scratched face with his hands, but still the tears drip through his fingers, mingling with dirt and blood. Amber reaches down to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he shakes her off.

  A loud, rhythmic clatter swells out of the background. I’ve been hearing it for a while, but in the chaos of the moment, it doesn’t really penetrate my thoughts until this minute.

  “A helicopter,” I breathe. Then, “Purples!”

  Our break for freedom has come to disaster. One of us is probably dead, and now the Surety is swooping down to pick us up.

  “Run!” rasps Eli.

  We take off like a herd of wild horses, deeper into the woods. We haven’t gone very far when the engine roar swells directly overhead. The searchlight beam sweeps over the trees not fifty feet away from us, so close that we’re sure we must be discovered. But the chopper continues on, coming to hover just beyond the ridge where the road curves. Slowly, it begins to descend into the valley.

  “They didn’t see us,” I whisper.

  Eli clues in. “The truck’s at the bottom of the slope, on fire. That’s what’s drawing their attention. They probably think they’re going to find five bodies in there.”

  Malik is still emotional. “They are going to find one body in there.”

  “Listen, Malik,” Eli says earnestly. “Whatever happened to Hector, hanging around here is only going to get us caught.”

  “And I’m supposed to be the toxic element?” Malik spits. “At least I’m not stone cold like you! I’ll bet they had to go pretty deep into the psycho ward to find your DNA! No wonder the ringleader of Osiris picked you to raise.”

  Eli recoils as if he’s been slapped, but he doesn’t give up on his argument. “This is a gift,” he persists. “That truck is going to burn for a while before they can get close enough to see that we’re not all in it. By the time it cools off enough for them to investigate, we have to be a long way from here.”

  “I guess I was wrong about you, Hector,” Malik rasps aloud. “You’re not useless after all. You’re useful as one thing—a distraction. That’s what your whole life was about.”

  “Come on, Malik. It won’t help Hector if we get dragged back to Serenity.” Amber touches his arm.

  Malik takes a shaky breath. “Nothing can help Hector now.”

  “Where are we going to go?” I wonder, my entire body trembling. “I mean, with the car we could head for Taos or some other town, but now we’re on foot. We can’t walk eighty miles—not with the Purples looking for us. No truck burns that long.”

  Eli’s ready with an answer. “The train line. That was our plan when we tried to get away on our bikes. There’s no reason why we can’t put that into action now. If we keep heading south, we know we’ll hit the tracks eventually.”

  “Yeah, but how eventually?” Amber asks. “It has to be miles, probably a lot of them.”

  We turn to Malik, who is still mourning. He looks like he couldn’t put one foot in front of the other, much less take on a marathon backcountry hike in the dark.

  His grief-stricken features twist into a slight smile. “You’ve got someplace else you need to be?”

  26

  MALIK BRUDER

  I always thought Serenity was the lamest backwater on the face of the earth. Now I know that compared with what’s around Serenity, the town itself is New York or Paris or Tokyo or one of those huge cities you read about.

  What’s around Serenity is basically nothing. I know this because we walk through every lousy inch of it. It’s dirt and trees and sagebrush that grabs at your feet and ankles. It’s boulders and buttes and crags that have to be scrambled over or squeezed between. It’s so quiet that the only sound besides your own groaning and cursing is the scampering of lizards or the clicking of scorpions. Poor Hector would have probably wet himself, but come to think of it, he’d be too dehydrated, like the rest of us.

  It would be hard enough to keep going under any circumstances, but after what we’ve just been through, it’s torture in the extreme. We walk all night, blundering through darkness, until the pain of our exhaustion equals the pain of the cuts and bruises that cover 99 percent of our bodies. I’d probably be carrying Hect
or by now. Under the circumstances, I’d be happy to do it. He doesn’t weigh very much.

  Correction: He didn’t . . .

  Here’s what haunts me: If we didn’t have to rush our plan in order to get me out of Happy Valley before Weeding Day, could we have come up with a better way to do it that didn’t get Hector killed? If I didn’t cheat on tests and gorge myself on cookies and cupcakes and get myself classified “toxic”; if I wasn’t such a big jerk, would Hector still be alive?

  That’s a lot more weight to carry than one skinny kid.

  The girls are tougher than I thought. I figured they’d be flat on their faces at this point, but they’re hanging in there. I guess when it’s your only chance to have a real life, you keep putting one foot in front of the other, regardless of how much it hurts. That goes double when you’re the one on full weeding alert. I don’t feel very lucky, but I understand I am. If we didn’t get out when we did, who knows what would have happened to me.

  I don’t know how far we’ve come, but we can’t see or hear the helicopter anymore. Maybe it landed in the valley, or maybe the Purples took it back to base to wait for first light. I’m hoping that we’ve walked clear out of its range. I’ve got the blisters on my feet to prove it.

  Our navigation can be summed up in one word: south. We think we’re heading in the right direction, but it’s easy to get turned around when you’re traveling over rough terrain. It feels like we’ve been on the move for about six months when, at last, the disk of the sun eases its way over the horizon and we’re heading straight for it.

  “We’re going east!” wails Tori.

  That’s the only word of complaint. We make our course correction, but we’re too tired for much more grumbling. We’re thirsty and we’re hungry. When the sun climbs, it begins to pound down on us unmercifully.

  “You know, when they picked a place for their secret clone farm, they really scored,” I pant. “We’ve been walking for, like, fifteen hours and we haven’t seen a single person. Not even a house or a road or a power line.”