Fallout (Lois Lane)

by Gwenda Bond

  Right now, Maddy was doing her best to be casual and would convince anyone except me with the act. She had her right hand in the pocket of her jeans, probably gripping the pen so hard her knuckles were straining.

  “Anavi,” I said, clearing a path through a couple of Warheads by ignoring and ducking around them. Maddy stuck with me.

  Anavi turned from her locker so that she was facing me, and the rest of the Warheads subtly shifted so they were too.

  I muscled my way closer without touching any of them, so that Maddy could get into position right beside the lockers. And the backpack. But I didn’t check to make sure Maddy was where she should be. That might give us away.

  “I wanted to apologize to you, to all of you,” I said, and I felt like a pretty good spy not to choke on the words. They practically flowed off my tongue, a necessary lie coated in warm honey.

  “Really?” said a Warhead.

  And the chorus chimed in: “That doesn’t . . .”

  “. . . seem like you.”

  Anavi’s head tilted to one side, her eyes narrowing a bit behind her glasses.

  “No, it doesn’t seem like you,” she said.

  I glanced around to confirm that the others had mirrored her posture. Could they be any creepier?

  Probably shouldn’t try to answer that question.

  “I am sorry, whether you believe it or not. So sorry that I felt like I had to tell you. We can call the whole thing done.” It was risky, but I couldn’t help adding, “You can leave Devin alone now too. Since this is over.”

  “Can we?”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “. . . if we can.”

  “Or if we want to.”

  “Look, I’m moving on and you should do the same,” I said, careful not to grit my teeth. “I just wanted to make things right with you. I want us to be friends.” And I went in for a hug for the capper.

  If Maddy hadn’t already completed her task, then this was her moment. Her last chance to get the bug in place in the backpack.

  Anavi took a few long moments to react to the hug. The Warheads weren’t used to random embraces.

  I made sure my grip was firm. “I am sorry,” I said, lower.

  I meant it. Just like I meant the part about being friends. I was determined to discover what Project Hydra was and end it—to find a way to bring Anavi back to herself.

  Finally, Anavi grunted and the Warheads started talking.

  “Let her go.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Get out of here.”

  “Now.”

  A press against my mind underscored the command, and I tightened my hold on Anavi in reflex. Thrown off balance, I needed something to hang on to. I’d forgotten about the threat of this.

  But the pressure increased in response, shoving against my mind, longer than either of the previous times. I fought to think of the game, of teasing SmallvilleGuy, of that night in Kansas, of anything I could latch onto to try to ignore the pressure until I could get clear of them.

  The problem was thinking at all. But I managed. Barely.

  I was beyond grateful when Anavi’s hands came up between us and shoved me away. Anavi gave her head a shake, almost like she had in the classroom when she was fighting the Warheads’ intrusions in her own mind.

  “Next time you will regret the consequences of your actions,” Anavi said.

  “Yes, there’d . . .”

  “. . . better not be . . .”

  “. . . a next time.”

  Anavi’s phrasing—“regret the consequences of your actions”—was like how she’d put things before she went all hive mind. The slip gave me hope she was in there somewhere, reachable.

  But whatever of her had returned was gone again as quickly. Her face smoothed into a mask, and she shut the door to her locker. Without turning, she bent to pick up her backpack. And then she was moving away, down the hall with her pack animals, all of them in perfect sync once again.

  I put my hand against the locker. “Did you get it in there?”

  Maddy lifted her hands to dust them. “Yes, I got it in there. I thought you were about to ask her to run away with you, you took so long with the hugging.”

  “Nice work,” I said, pasting on a smile in return.

  “I don’t get that way they talk.” Maddy was watching the Warheads disappear up the hall. “How they always know what the other ones are going to say. What’s the deal with it, do you think?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t want to lie to Maddy. And it wasn’t like I could explain everything yet.

  Here was hoping the bug got us enough answers to end this.

  *

  By the time lunch period finally ended, I felt like my blood had been replaced with electricity. Over the course of the morning, the word had been circulated from Maddy to Devin to James that all of us would meet up in the library, in independent research room A, which Maddy had booked during her study period under the guise of watching a video about women factory workers in World War II for AP history.

  If the others wanted to see and hear the bug show, they had to skip their first afternoon classes. I had the same study slot as Maddy, but I was supposed to stay in a different area of the library.

  That was easy enough to deal with. The librarian only had us sign a sheet as we came in, and then got busy with the million other tasks that were her real job.

  I rapped my knuckles on the door of room A, and it cracked a sliver. “Password?” came the whispered reply.

  Maddy’s eyelinered eye was silhouetted in the shadow, a flickering black and white movie visible behind her projected on the wall.

  “Let me in?” I had completely spaced the fact that Maddy had come up with a password code. She was getting into Independent Study: Cloak-and-Dagger in a major way.

  “Password,” the reply came.

  Over at her desk, the librarian was helping someone check out a stack of books, and the last thing I wanted was to draw her attention. I needed to activate the bug. But I couldn’t point this out to Maddy without prolonging the torture and exposure. Squinting, I recalled our earlier conversation about this.

  My head hurt, which probably meant I didn’t remember right away because I’d been shaking off the sensation of having a bunch of hands—er, minds—pushing against mine. Maddy would make it something to do with the cover story, wouldn’t she? She’d been proud of it . . .

  “Rosie,” I said, too loud with triumph. I verified the librarian was still busy. And she was, but two other boys in a stack nearby were looking over at me.

  “The Riveter,” Maddy said in a softer tone, and swung the door the rest of the way open. “Enter.”

  “Remind me never to cross you, Mata Hari,” I said.

  “She was World War One, not Two,” Maddy said coolly.

  “Then remind me to copy your history notes.”

  Devin was already there, his feet propped on a table in front of the muted movie displaying on the wall. And so was James. Though he sat as stiffly as if he’d been marched in at gunpoint.

  “Relax, James,” I said. “No one will ever know you’re a sleeper agent.”

  I paused next to Devin. I hadn’t seen him yet today. He was staring up at the flickering footage, filmed on an old factory floor and filled with industrious women. Only he wasn’t really watching it. His eyes were simply pointed in that direction.

  That was odd.

  I nudged his shoulder with my hand. “You okay? Your loyal subjects were still on your side when you made your triumphant return, I bet.”

  He shook his head side to side, and then blinked up at me.

  “Oh,” he said, “yeah, fine. I didn’t stay in long.”

  I wanted to question why he was acting so weird, but we were out of time. A look at the wall clock confir
med it.

  “They should have arrived at the Advanced Research headquarters by now,” I said, tossing my bag onto one of the tables and rummaging for the cap that activated the bug and served as receiver. “And be through security, which means we’re on. You want to do the honors?” I asked Maddy, lifting the pen top.

  “Go ahead,” Maddy said, though I got the impression part of her wanted to say yes. Playing it cool in front of James, I bet. Someday he’d kick himself for not noticing her.

  I shrugged and pushed the little depression on the end of the pen cap, and a red light blinked, a soft beep following. “That door locked?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Maddy responded immediately. Which was good, because we would have a tough time explaining this to anyone who happened to klutz into the room.

  I set the cap down on the table, positioning it so we would all have a good view. The audio crackled to life first, tinny with footsteps shuffling along a hallway, and to accompany a projection that popped into being, showing the infrared heat signatures detectable by the bug. Walking bodies, beating hearts, shuffling feet . . . Then they were all standing close together. They were in an elevator. Yes, definitely, because a few seconds later a series of regular beeps sounded and right after the last one, they were filing out of the tight space and along another hallway.

  James stood and leaned in close to examine it. “Where did you—did you steal this from your dad? Your dad, the very important general who already hates the Scoop?”

  “No, I didn’t,” I said. “I borrowed it.”

  James might have been skeptical, but he didn’t call me a liar. Which was good, because I wasn’t. I had every intention of putting the bug back where it belonged.

  “What is it doing?” Maddy asked.

  Devin hadn’t said anything. I’d thought he’d be the one interested in the tech.

  “Devin, you can probably guess how it works. You want to explain?” I tried to drag his personality out. Maybe he was depressed about losing the castle? But I didn’t want to make the mistake of assuming he wasn’t in the Warheads’ mental crosshairs like Anavi had been.

  “That’s all right,” he said, “you go on.”

  “Pretty simple, really,” I said. “An audio-only bug is great for conversations, but useless if you might be looking to visit a place later or find something that the target has put in a safe or some other hiding spot in an office. This gen of infrared camera can shoot through fabric and let you see where your target goes within a location, how many bodies are in a room, stuff like that, not just what they say when they get there.”

  The Warheads appeared to be filing into a room, and so I was able to avoid any more questions from James by pointing to my ear and then the image. Now we’d discover how Advanced Research Laboratories was molding young minds every afternoon.

  “This must be our newest recruit,” a man’s voice said.

  The audio was as crisp as if he was in the library study room with us. The tinny quality had vanished. Another feature of this particular bug model: it compensated for noise impurities. Too bad the latest iteration hadn’t been in Dad’s cabinet, because it boasted clearer visuals.

  “Sir, yes, sir,” a chorus of voices said in sync.

  “The Warheads?” Maddy said.

  I nodded, frowning. I’d never heard them speak at the same time before, no overlapping.

  “You don’t have to do that,” the man’s voice said, in a sympathetic way. “Or call me sir. Sorry, but it’s time to get you linked for real and into the sim. Hop up.” Given his gentle tone and that he sounded like he dreaded the next step, he might be the researcher expressing doubts on the private forum SmallvilleGuy had gained access to.

  The heat signatures that were gathered around the man spread into a wide circle around him, then sat down one by one in a coordinated way. If I was right, they were facing the center of a large room.

  The sympathetic man was joined by a trio of other people, who went by each of the seated Warheads in turn. The heat signatures didn’t make movements crystal clear, but they were plain enough that we could see that the man’s helpers appeared to be leaning in as they stopped at each Warhead, touching the sides of their heads. It was easy to guess they were hooking holosets over the Warheads’ ears.

  “Why would they use regular holosets?” I asked.

  No one answered, though Maddy shrugged.

  The lab couldn’t just want them playing the game? They could do that anywhere. Anytime. There had to be some twist on the tech happening.

  The hues of the splotchy forms were growing brighter around the circle. Heating up. Like they were nervous.

  No, not nervous—excited.

  Like they were excited for whatever was about to happen.

  Three of the standing heat signatures left the room. From the slightly tilted angle, I could tell Anavi’s backpack was on the floor, presumably next to her seat. Maybe she was a softer hue than the others? But it didn’t last. Soon, she was the brightest of all. A red so vivid it might have burned to the touch.

  The first man had remained in the room, and he said, “Get ready, guys.” And then, “Linking subjects now.”

  A series of tones sounded—an eerie pattern that repeated—and each of the Warheads’ heads seemed to lean forward, like there was something they wanted to see better.

  Whatever they were looking at must have been inside the real-sim their holos projected, though, because the center of the floor remained empty of any heat signatures. No one besides the Warheads was in the room except the man off to one side. I noticed that he had raised his hands to cover his ears.

  The tones that sounded were almost familiar. Almost, but not quite, and they finally concluded, replaced by several moments of quiet.

  The man said, “Cue up today’s test scenario. In three, two, one.”

  CHAPTER 20

  When the countdown ended, the man strode over to Anavi and crouched in front of her. “You’re safe here. Don’t worry. The link gets easier.”

  “I’m fine,” was the murmured response in her familiar voice, a suggestion of irritation in it.

  The others echoed it around the room, magnifying the irritated tone. “We’re fine.”

  “No need to pretend. You’re not that closely linked.” The man chided them, still sounding sympathetic. “We need to be able to record accurate results. The boss will notice if we don’t.”

  He muttered afterward, purposely muffled in his elbow, so they wouldn’t hear him. But the bug picked it up: “Wish I could pretend I didn’t need this job.”

  He thought they were pretending to be more closely linked than they were? Ha.

  “He doesn’t know,” I said.

  “Doesn’t know what?” Maddy asked.

  Oops. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Not yet. Not when it would only lead to a discussion of mad science, and me possibly losing them as friends.

  “What were those sounds?” James asked.

  “Don’t know. We should listen,” I said to cover my slip-up. I was as curious about the tones as he was. But I knew one thing. It was becoming obvious that the experiment was having more of an effect on the Warheads than even the people running it were aware. And that at least this worker was troubled by the results, despite being ignorant of the full extent.

  The Warheads weren’t just recruiting and toying with fellow students.

  They were toying with the people running the experiment.

  The next fifteen minutes should have been dull but instead were riveting. We watched as the Warheads remained motionless in their seats, while the man running the experiment gave them verbal cues about moving through a landscape.

  “Figure out a way into the compound,” he’d say, and then clap reluctant encouragement a few moments later, at their apparent proficiency in doing so.

  Then, “Now
find the third floor and defuse the bomb. With no—or, wait, the prompt says with minimal civilian casualties.” He watched what we couldn’t, shaking his head occasionally.

  It did sound like they were running them through a real-sim environment. But it wouldn’t make sense to go to all this effort if it was only the game.

  “Devin?” I asked.

  After a lag, he said, “Yeah?”

  “You ever play in the afternoon, sneak in a session?” I asked.

  He seemed more like his normal self when he answered. “Sure. Excellent time to accumulate loot. Not as many people in our area on then.”

  “Did you ever see the Warheads in the game at this time of day?”

  “Not in a long time,” he said. “And I would have noticed.”

  “If they’re not in the game, then what are they doing?” James asked.

  I didn’t have an answer.

  In the projection from the lab, the man asked, “How are you guys so much better today? Is it the new recruit? Whatever it is, the control room says this is going to affect the demo schedule.”

  The Warheads were still playing—or whatever they were doing—as far as the heat signatures showed. None of them moved.

  But they did answer him:

  “We’re stronger. We’re going to keep getting stronger.”

  The man held a hand up to his own forehead, as if he’d been struck by a sudden, shooting headache.

  I had a suspicion what that might be. My hand pressed against my own temple in semi-sympathetic memory.

  “Okay,” he said, subdued, “time to bring them out of the link. Nice and easy, guys.”

  The eerie tones sounded again, repeating over and over, and once more the Warheads leaned forward like they were trying to get a closer look at something . . .

  The overhead light popped on above us and I wasn’t the only one who jolted in surprise. The brrrring of the bell that signaled the end of the period followed.

  Good timing, as far as I was concerned.

  “Someone else has the room now,” Maddy said. She turned to me. “What were they doing? Did you find out what we needed to know?”