Chameleon (The Ripple Series)

by Cidney Swanson

  It’s like nothing else I know, wrote Will.

  The silence felt eerie; normal running created all kinds of noise. Here we sailed with only the sounds of the night: an owl hooting, the rustle of grass in a breeze, the occasional whoosh of a car. We continued silent as the night creatures we passed along the highway to Merced. I could see an eerie glow from the city now, reflecting back down from the clouds. Merced used fog–lights designed to pierce the thick tule fog of winter. The orange–yellow light seemed to whisper, Caution! Caution! as we approached.

  Check. This. Out. Will’s handwriting appeared in entire words this time, instead of letter–by–letter.

  Do you see what I’m doing now? Will asked. I’m imagining whole words onto the board instead of spelling them out.

  I imagined myself writing out whole words at once. Much faster this way.

  Too bad you don’t know sign language, Will wrote. I’m sure I can sign faster than I can imagine words on a chalkboard.

  That gave me an idea. It doesn’t have to be a chalkboard. We could write on a piece of paper.

  Or a computer screen—Will typed on an imagined screen and I saw it.

  We can write on anything! The idea tickled me. This was stupid–fun.

  We continued along the highway, experimenting within our shared mind–space.

  My fastest method for sending thoughts was via an imagined cell–phone screen whereas Will’s was on a blank piece of notepad paper. Will wrote that he’d always had a soft spot for pencils and notepads.

  Far sooner than made rational sense, Will and I left the foothill country for the smooth floor of the Central Valley. UCM glowed at the outskirts of the town of Merced, and we aimed for it like moths drawn to a flickering flame.

  I swallowed, praying for a better fate than that of the moth.

  Will wrote to me, Not exactly your most hopeful image, that last one.

  Yeah, sorry.

  We’re going to be just fine, wrote Will. We get in, we find the books, we get out. You’re getting better at rippling, you know.

  Thanks, I typed back. I’m fine as long as nothing scares me.

  So we’ll just avoid scary situations, wrote Will. Then he drew a huge smiley–faced sunshine on a clean sheet of paper and what I could only assume was a rainbow. It was very ugly.

  Thanks, I typed.

  He drew an arrow to the smiley and wrote Sam beside the arrow.

  I felt laughter burbling inside me. Will knew how to make me lighten up.

  Upon reaching the building that housed Helga’s lab, I felt another mental shudder, remembering how Helga strapped me down to her dentist–chair in order to interrogate me. Will must have seen the image.

  You know that’s not happening this time, right? he wrote.

  I know.

  We’re going to stick together, and besides, we’re invisible, wrote Will.

  Only until we grab the black books, I typed.

  Good point, Will responded. But no unnecessary risks. You risked a lot last time. Come on. Let me be the one who ripples solid to grab the books.

  Helga’s never seen you, and we need to keep it that way. This is about your sister, too, Will.

  He didn’t write back immediately. Alright. It’s you that grabs the books. But if anyone at all is in the building, the whole deal is off, okay?

  Totally, I typed, wondering if we were idiots for doing this.

  Excerpted from the private journal of Helga Gottlieb, circa present day

  I have stolen the truth from Father’s journals at last! A small fact which my father has chosen to keep from me these many years. Father believes the genes of the female de Rochefort line are superior to my own. Superior to his, that is, since I am his offspring. Well, if he can swallow this bitter knowledge, then so can I.

  I do not know whether to be furious that Father would hide such information from me or to admire him for doing exactly what I, in his place, would have done.

  But no. That is inaccurate. I know my feelings well enough at this moment. I am angry at this betrayal. How many times has Father praised my efforts in unlocking the hidden secrets of Nature’s code, while, all the time, he knew me to be chasing down blind alleys?

  But at last I hold in my hands this fact I have sought after for so long; I can accept it or reject it, but it will remain the singular truth: the very genetic sequences that have made my mind capable of so much more than the brightest minds Science has produced also contain sequences for psychoses. Not from my genes will the future salvation of mankind be created. But I shall not become embittered. I have not been defeated.

  See? I write dispassionately. I can embrace truth and overcome it. Yes, I shall overcome this bitter discovery. And in this ability of mine to embrace what is, from that ability shall come triumph and the Improvement of the Race of Man.

  Father bides his time, waiting to collect the genes of the girl descended from Elisabeth. I shall seize the opportunity. And the girl. Oh, yes, the girl. She will be mine before she becomes his!

  Chapter Five

  WANTED

  Here goes, I wrote as we bore down upon the front of the building.

  Hey, Sam? No matter what, don’t drop hands, okay? We can’t talk if we aren’t touching.

  Right, I typed back. I’m not letting go for anything. If I let go, I had no idea how we’d find each other again, short of one of us coming solid.

  We approached a large glass wall rather than using the building’s front doors. Even though Will didn’t write it out, I knew where he wanted to go. I’d have to ask him about it later. When we weren’t trying to break into the high–security facility of a woman who was crazy or wanted me dead or both.

  Together we passed into the viscous embrace of the large wall of glass. It felt just like I remembered from other times. Moving through glass warmed and calmed you. Like placing cold hands in a basin of tepid water. Like a hug from Sylvia. Like Will’s lips on mine.

  I tucked the last thought away, hoping Will felt distracted by the sensation of slipping through the glass. Gently, the window released us back into the air of the building’s interior.

  How do we both know where we’re going? Will asked.

  I don’t know. It’s weird, I replied.

  Maybe it’s ‘cause we can see with each other’s eyes when we’re connected like this. Like, I see your eyes focusing on a particular corridor, and mine follow suit, and then that’s just where it feels right to go, he wrote.

  Turn off your inner–scientist, Will. Let’s get this done.

  I was seeing flashes from my previous incarceration. I didn’t feel exactly scared by it, but it wasn’t pleasant, either. Don’t worry, I’m fine, I typed to Will. Just remembering.

  It’s nearly impossible to feel scared when you’re invisible, Will wrote. I made a few … errors of judgment coming solid in front of my dad because of how invincible I felt.

  Arriving, we paused in front of Dr. Gottlieb’s laboratory.

  Ready? asked Will.

  Together we passed through the sawdust–dryness of her wood–veneered door. I understood now what flour felt like, coursing through a sieve. The lab lay in near darkness. Emergency exit signs and computer lights glowed and created an eerie range of Christmas–colored lighting throughout the room.

  Let’s start in her office, I wrote.

  Hand in hand, we glided across the laboratory floor, our pace now slowed to an ordinary walk. We paused at the office door for half a second, and then sifted through. Another mouthful of sawdust–dryness.

  Jackpot! wrote Will, directing his gaze to a bank–style vault behind her desk that ran from floor to ceiling. That should be interesting to pass through.

  It was thicker than a regular door. A metallic flavor coursed through my nose and mouth as we slipped through. I pushed back ugly memories of my mouth, full of blood, of Helga’s henchman poised to strike once more.

  As we tried to pass to the far side of the vault door, we discovered something frustra
ting. Immediately behind the door sat shelves that extended to the door. Without any illumination, we could still sense the solid masses of shelving. Beyond the shelves the back wall of the vault pressed, followed by the outer wall of the building. Each time we tried to walk through to an area where we could stand and solidify, we found ourselves outside under the cloudy night sky.

  This sucks, wrote Will.

  No matter how hard we tried to find a “room” behind the vaulted door, we couldn’t. Eventually we admitted what we knew: there was no “room,” only shelving. We couldn’t solidify inside the vault. On our third pass back through the vault, I recognized two scents besides the metallic flavor of the door. These odors were subtle compared to the strong tang of metal.

  Paper, Will. That’s the smell of old paper that’s been somewhere damp. I thought of a visit to my grandma’s house when I was little. Her books had smelled this way. I tried to place the other scent. It reminded me of my grandfather. Leather! I wrote. I smell something like old, worn leather.

  The combined smells, paper and leather, conjured happy memories. Trips to the library, my mom and later my dad reading to me, the smell and feel of my grandparents’ books. It was hard to reconcile such bright thoughts with what probably lay inside the pages of these black books.

  I’m not smelling anything I recognize, Will wrote. But paper and leather sounds like the journals. They must be here in the vault with us.

  I’m afraid so, I responded.

  Damn. No way can we come solid in here.

  We re–entered Helga’s office and stood forlorn.

  What’s that? asked Will, his attention pulling mine to a picture drawn on a sheet of paper. Is that supposed to be you?

  I stared curiously at the paper upon Helga’s desk. Below the hand–drawn picture, done up like a “WANTED” poster, I read these words:

  DO YOU KNOW THIS STUDENT? I HAVE HER PURSE.

  A phone number was listed below the words. An orange sticky–note had been attached as well, reading “Apprehend, but Do Not Harm.” The word “not” had been underlined several times.

  She’s trying to find you, said Will.

  Looks like it.

  At least she still believes you’re a student here, wrote Will. That’s better than if she figured out that Samantha Ruiz was here.

  My eyes riveted upon something even more interesting. Lying open on the left–hand side of her desk sat a single black journal.

  They’re not all in the vault! I wrote.

  Together, we stared at the innocent–looking book, a match to the book from Dr. Pfeffer.

  Still written in gobble–de–gook? Will asked.

  Looks like it, I replied.

  Shall we? wrote Will, and I knew he wanted me to ripple solid and grab the book.

  I want to check if there’s anything else of value first.

  He wrote back, Good idea.

  We circled the office, noting a stack of the flyers with my likeness drawn upon them. We didn’t uncover any other black books.

  Guess this is it, then, wrote Will. You sure it has to be you that grabs the book?

  I’m sure, Will. I’m not endangering you and Mickie in case there are hidden cameras.

  Okay, then. I’ve seen enough of this place. Grab it and let’s go, Will wrote.

  It wouldn’t be accurate to say that I “felt” Will dropping my hand, but I certainly sensed it. I pulled my hand towards myself and moved to the side of the desk where the book lay. Then I rippled solid, my headlamp illumining the room. As I reached for the book, I hoped Will was staying put so that I could find him again.

  The leather cover felt cool against my palms. Time to ripple. I turned my thoughts to visions of still water. To one side, a fluttering motion caught my attention. Someone was rippling solid.

  Someone besides Will.

  Chapter Six

  IVANOVICH

  A familiar voice ripped through the quiet of the office.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” demanded a large man with ice–blue eyes.

  I knew him. Helga’s thug, Ivanovich.

  “Did Dr. Helmann send you?” he asked, his visage aflame with anger or madness: I couldn’t tell which.

  I didn’t speak. I felt like an insect pinned down by his glare.

  “Turn off that damn headlight,” he growled.

  Not a chance, I thought.

  “Who are you?” he asked, voice lowering to a less threatening tone. “Put that book down and let’s talk.”

  He circled the desk and I circled too, keeping the same distance between us. I felt a blast of icy–cold that had to be Will. Stay hidden, I thought.

  The blue–eyed man spoke again. “I said put that book down. Now!”

  I clutched it more tightly to myself as I tried to reason my way out of this situation. I needed to ripple or run away. Or beat this guy up so bad that he couldn’t come after me. The last one wasn’t looking too likely.

  As we continued circling the desk, the man pulled a knife from his jacket.

  “I’ll carve you into little pieces, girl. I don’t care if Helmann did send you.” Ivanovich’s voice dropped. “He’s not my boss. I serve only her.”

  “You’re Helga’s … creature,” I said, still circling around her desk.

  This seemed to please him. Blue–eyed man stopped circling and grinned, his lips stretching farther and farther until I could see all of his perfect white teeth. It was not a smile. It was feral. Dangerous.

  “I’m the fore–runner of the new generation,” he said, stalking me again.

  I moved towards the door leading to the larger lab room. The door was closed. I yanked it open and then pulled it tight shut behind me. I ran for a door, but disoriented, I chose the small room where Helga liked to pull teeth. Behind me, I heard the office door open.

  “Give me the book and I’ll kill you quickly,” said Ivanovich.

  “You’re crazy,” I said.

  “Crazy is not a designation that has meaning for the übermensch.”

  I dashed for the door that led out of the lab. Maybe I could hide in the ladies room I’d found last time: hide and ripple. As I wrenched the door open, my ankle gave way and I stumbled. A knife whizzed past me, through the space my head had occupied a moment ago.

  A scream escaped me and I flew down the corridor, hurling myself around the corner.

  “You’re making this fun for me,” called my pursuer. “I’ll give you that.” His voice followed me from behind. I heard him pause and imagined him recovering the knife.

  I rounded another corner, hearing feet picking up speed behind me. No escape; no place to hide. I threw myself down a new corridor and felt an icy patch of cold air.

  Will! I bit my tongue, keeping myself from saying his name aloud. Ahead, I saw a men’s room.

  “In there,” whispered Will as he rippled solid. “I’ll take him off your trail!”

  Quick and silent, I slipped into the men’s restroom. Beyond the door, I heard Will’s footsteps continue down the hall. A moment later my pursuer found him.

  “Another one?” roared Ivanovich.

  My heart pounding, I crossed to the sink and started the water running. Calm. Peaceful. I stared at my hands, but they remained agonizingly solid. Please. And then I realized I didn’t have the black book any more. I’d dropped it! I thought back through the last ninety seconds and realized it must have slipped from my grasp when my ankle tweaked. It was lying back beside Helga’s lab door.

  I almost dashed out the door to retrieve the book, but stopped myself: I needed to ripple first. Returning my gaze to the water, I thought of Will, racing down the hall to save my butt. Again. Like the night he’d drawn the police off my trail by Las ABC. I owed that boy; I was not letting Helga’s thug hurt him. I turned off the water and closed my eyes, remembering Will’s arms around me the day he’d kissed me. His lips on mine, cracked on one side, but soft and warm and … I’d rippled.

  Gliding invisibly from the men’s r
oom, I retraced my steps. The corridors looked so similar to one another and I wasn’t at all sure I was even going the right direction, but then I saw the black book, bent over upon itself half–way down the corridor to my left. I raced toward it and came solid again, leaning down.

  A knife whirred past me for the second time. “Enough with the knives!” I shouted, dashing forward to make sure I got to the dropped weapon first.

  At the far end of the hall, my pursuer paused. “How many of you did Helmann send?” he asked.

  “You’re being tested,” I lied, wildly. “He sent a dozen of us to see how you’d stand up to us.”

  Ivanovich slowed his advance towards me, tilting his head to one side, considering me.

  “And, you’re doing really well,” I said. “But he wants this book back now, so I’ll just be going.”

  He bared his teeth once again. “You’re lying. I can smell your fear.”

  “You don’t smell so great yourself,” I said, slipping the black book into my waistband and gripping the knife out in front of me, trying to look scary.

  He laughed. He looked insane as he launched himself at me from down the corridor.

  Suddenly Will solidified running alongside Ivanovich.

  “Will!” I screamed.

  Ivanovich caught Will’s motion from the side and turned, taking a swipe at Will with yet another knife. Will rippled. I turned to flee, but then I heard Will yelling and spun back around. The two wrestled in a strange fashion, Will moving in and out of solidity. Helga’s thug screamed his rage as Will took longer than usual to come solid.

  “I can play at that game, coward!” he shouted. Then he vanished.

  I took off, sprinting down the slippery corridor once more, and nearly barreled into the chest of über–man who had materialized directly in front of me. Terrified, I dropped his knife and twisted to fly the other way.

  Again I collided into a body as it solidified in my path.

  “No!” I cried, struggling within a grip cold and hard as iron.