by Andy Briggs
Lorna blew her nose noisily and rubbed her eyes. “You mean that?”
“Completely. We’re going to rescue Mom, and put a stop to Doc Tempest.”
This drew a half-smile from Lorna. Toby felt the conviction of the words burn into him, but he had no idea how they were going to achieve any of it.
Now Toby lay on an inflatable mattress on Pete’s floor, wearing a pair of his friend’s pajamas. He glanced at the alarm clock, the red LCD numbers burning in the darkness. One thirty in the morning, and Toby didn’t feel any trace of fatigue.
If only he had powers now, he’d find Tempest and make him pay. …
Toby sat bolt upright, bobbing on the inflatable mattress as if it was a waterbed. “Pete?” he whispered. “Are you awake?” Nothing. He tried again, louder this time: “PETE! You awake?”
He heard snuffling from Pete’s bed. “Huh? Um, yeah … I am now. What’s wrong?”
“We’ve got to go back to my house!”
Pete breathed out heavily. “Toby, dude. You can’t. They’re probably knocking it down as we speak. Try to sleep, I’m sure they’ll save as many things of yours as they can.”
“But the computer! It’s the only way we can access Hero.com.”
Pete sat up in bed, instantly awake. In all the chaos, he’d completely forgotten too. “Maybe we can access it on mine?”
“How? We don’t know the URL and you said yourself that you searched the Net, but couldn’t find anything about it.”
Pete nodded. “You’re right, we have to get to your computer.”
Then a dark thought suddenly crossed Toby’s mind.
“If it hasn’t been destroyed by the twister.”
Sneaking out of Pete’s house had been simple, although they had run into the unexpected problem of creeping past Pete’s dad, who was sleeping on the couch, blanket drawn up to his chin and snoring loudly.
The rain had stopped, and now the town was shrouded in fog that gave the dark streets an eerie quality. As they approached Toby’s street, they were glad they had it to shield them from the police officer sitting in his car, amid lines of “POLICE—DO NOT ENTER” tape.
The cop looked up and for one heart-sinking moment Pete thought they had been seen. But the cop just glanced around, and then continued doing a crossword in his folded newspaper.
“Come on,” whispered Toby. He pointed to the nearest front yard. “Cut through this way.”
He led the way across a driveway, both boys hunkered as low as possible. They scrambled under a hedge and into the next yard and continued down the street that way.
The yards resembled a disaster zone. Smashed roof slates, soggy papers, litter, splintered wood, glass, and—strangely—an assortment of socks. Toby didn’t bother to check, but they were probably his.
As they reached his house, Toby glanced back to see that the fog had obscured the police car. A framework had been erected across the front of the building, holding plastic sheets that gave the impression the house had been gift-wrapped. Toby found a slit between two of the sheets and they slid inside.
Pete flicked on his flashlight, which he’d thankfully remembered to bring along. It took several seconds for Toby to realize he was standing in what used to be the hallway. Looking into the kitchen he could see that the heavy oak table had been split in half, both pieces then tossed against the wall, leaving huge indents in the plaster.
“What a mess,” muttered Toby.
He walked into the remains of the study. The damage looked particularly bad here, with a greater section of the house pulled away. Pete ran the flashlight beam across the room. Not a single piece of furniture had survived. The plastic sheeting formed one entire wall, while the rear window had been blown out across the backyard.
“I bet this is right where the tornado hit,” said Pete. “It’s cleaner than the rest, like the twister vacuumed it all up.”
“Yeah, I bet Mom was on the computer at the time, she always is …” Toby faltered as he realized there was no sign of the computer. “It’s not here!”
Toby snatched the flashlight from Pete and started to kick over pieces of smashed wood lying on the floor. Then he spotted something wedged under a desk-sized chunk with a light fixture jutting from the wood, giving testament to the fact it used to be part of the ceiling. Toby tried to remove it, plaster crumbling in his hand. It was heavy.
“Help me lift this!”
Pete found a handhold next to Toby, and together they levered the large chunk of ceiling upright, letting it fall with a crash—revealing the battered desktop computer case underneath, the metal buckled and scratched and lying in an inch of rainwater. The monitor lay next to it, tangled in a snarl of cables. The screen was smashed, and the plastic housing had cracked clean in two.
“I don’t think that it’s going to work,” said Pete.
“Oh no …,” groaned Toby, kneeling down to inspect the computer. A brick was poking out of the front panel where the DVD drive should have been. The whole case was tilted at an angle—“like the Leaning Tower of Pisa,” thought Pete.
“We’ve lost it. How’re we going to get that Web site back?” said Toby with a hint of panic. “How are we going to save my mom?”
His fist slammed the top of the computer, causing no damage whatsoever; the machine had already taken enough.
An idea suddenly occurred to Pete. “Just open it up.”
“What?”
“The casing, get it open! We only need the hard drive.” Pete knelt down and began tracing his fingers along the back of the computer. He took the flashlight back from Toby and aimed it on a set of screws holding the side panels onto the case.
“We need to get these screws out. Do you have a screwdriver on you?”
“Of course I do,” replied Toby sarcastically.
Pete shone the flashlight around the room in the vain hope he could find one.
“Then we’ll have to take the whole thing,” said Pete.
“Wait, what are you talking about?”
“Everything on the computer is stored on the hard drive. The operating system, your games, all of your parents’ stuff, and all of your Internet favorites! If the hard drive still works, all we have to do is take it out and try it on my computer!”
Hope flooded through Toby. “Awesome! Wait; if the police catch us carrying this through the streets at night, they’ll think we stole it!” He looked around the room, and had an idea. “Pass me that brick!”
The policeman threw down the crossword in despair and made another check of the street. Nobody had been around for hours, and he was truly bored. With another five hours of his shift left he contemplated turning the heat on in the car again, but decided to warm himself up with a quick patrol of the area.
If anything the fog had thickened, and the officer tugged his jacket tighter to keep out the chill. He swung his flashlight around, satisfied to see the thick beam outlined by the fog. All the other homes had been evacuated because of fears of a gas leak, so the street was quiet.
Almost. A loud thump made the policeman stop in his tracks. There was another succession of loud bangs, like somebody trying to smash through a door. His hand withdrew his taser—a small stun gun that fired an electrical shock to disable any attacker. He’d been warned about possible looters, and the security of people’s homes was in his hands.
His ears strained against the muffled silence offered by the fog—until he heard the thump again, this time accompanied by a metallic clank. “Maybe car thieves,” he thought.
The policeman advanced.
Toby withheld a cheer as the computer’s side panel came away after he had pounded it with a brick. Unable to unscrew it, he and Pete had decided to use brute force. The open side now revealed the mangled computer interior.
Pete’s fingers found the oblong black and silver hard drive half-hanging from its bay.
“This is it!” he said, as he pulled the cables from the back of the drive. It was a solid, heavy device, which he caref
ully passed to Toby.
“Will it work?” Toby asked, shaking it.
Pete’s hands shot out, stopping him. “Not if you keep doing that! They’re sensitive devices, and after the computer was thrown around in that twister, it might be damaged. But it’s the only chance we have.”
A blinding light suddenly fell across them. And with it, an angry-sounding voice.
“You there! Hands up! You’re under arrest!” shouted the cop, pushing halfway through a slit in the plastic sheeting.
Toby and Pete exchanged frightened glances. In a flash, Toby was on his feet.
“Run!” Toby yelled and powered down the hallway, shoving the hard drive into the safety of his jacket. He could hear Pete close behind.
“Stop or I’ll shoot!” yelled the policeman behind them.
Toby ran up the staircase. This was his home, and he knew all the best hiding places. From below they heard the sound of plastic sheeting being pulled aside with difficulty, hopefully slowing the cop.
“Why are we running?” asked Pete as he struggled to keep up. “We’re in your house, taking your computer! We haven’t done anything wrong!”
Toby’s voice dropped to a whisper as he reached his bedroom door.
“Because there will be too many awkward questions. Like, why did we come back in the middle of the night to get this? We don’t have time for complications, we have to find my mother now.”
From downstairs came the sound of pounding feet, and the crackle of a police radio. “Sierra Oscar from Sierra Six. Suspects on Aylton Road. Assistance required. Over.”
Pete and Toby exchanged glances.
“Trust me,” whispered Toby. “Nobody will find us in this house if I don’t want them to. Now get in!”
He opened his bedroom door—and Pete’s hands scrambled for the door frame as his foot stepped out into open air.
“Your room’s not there!” screamed Pete. The twister had completely torn it away. They could hear the cop thudding up the staircase. They had no time left.
“Come on!” urged Toby.
Toby stepped out onto the framework that had been erected where his bedroom had once been. He beckoned for Pete to follow.
“We’re superheroes, remember?”
“I’m off duty right now!” Pete retorted through gritted teeth. But a noise behind him motivated him to move: the policeman was getting closer. Pete licked his lips and followed Toby, wrapping both arms around the scaffolding. Toby reached out and gently closed the door. The sound of footsteps suddenly came from just beyond the door.
“I know you’re here! There’s backup on the way and you’ve got nowhere to hide!”
Pete tightened his grip on the scaffolding. He was feeling scared; after all, he was up here without any superpowers.
A door slammed open from inside the house. It sounded like the door to Lorna’s room. Toby nodded his head in the direction of the ground. Pete looked blank. Frustrated, Toby tried again, rolling his eyes downward. Pete shook his head, not comprehending.
Toby sighed deeply. For a smart kid, Pete could be really stupid. “Climb down! Before he opens this door!”
Checking his grip, Toby slid into a sitting position, one leg dangling over the scaffolding. His searching foot found a cross spar, and it was a simple task to lower himself down to the next level.
“Just make sure you’ve got one hand firmly holding on!” he whispered as loudly as he dared.
Pete nodded and copied the instruction. It was a little more difficult for him, being shorter than Toby, and at first he thought his foot would never connect with the scaffolding below.
“You’re doing great!” encouraged Toby.
Another door was roughly left ajar inside the house: his parents’ bedroom. His room was the next door over, and it wouldn’t take a genius to realize they must have slipped outside.
Toby lowered himself, feeling the reassuring spar of the wooden frame beneath his foot as he eased his weight down.
But both his sneaker sole and the spar were slick with rain. It was like stepping on ice. His foot slipped and he screamed as he dropped backward, protecting his head from hitting the ground. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed his head was inches away from several rusty nails protruding like claws. One head injury per day was enough.
Pete stared down, wide-eyed. “Tobe!” he shouted.
The door above Pete opened and the cop almost stepped out, also forgetting half the house was missing. He steadied himself as he spotted Pete just below him.
“You! You’re under arrest!”
“Jump!” shouted Toby. He kicked away the plank of wood with the dangerous nails.
Pete was alarmed as he looked between his friend and the cop, who was holding on to the doorjamb with one hand and trying to bring his taser around with the other. It was too dark for him to make out they were just children. Pete jumped.
He crashed into the wood, remembering at the last minute to bend his legs, and dropped into a roll to slow his momentum, just like he’d read somewhere. It worked, and Pete rolled between the sheets of plastic, springing to his feet like a seasoned gymnast.
Toby ran out after him, giggling with excitement.
“Pete, you were awesome!”
The compliment washed over Pete as he tried to calm down. “Got the hard drive?”
Toby patted his jacket. “Right here. Let’s go!”
They sprinted into the cloaking embrace of the fog as fast as they could. They had reached the end of the street before the cop had managed to retrace his steps and run out of the house.
They didn’t stop running until they were safely back inside Pete’s—wet, exhausted, and grinning triumphantly.
* * *
Pete found it almost impossible to wake up the next morning. But his parents were adamant that he get up for school. Pete complained and sulked, but they didn’t listen. Pete’s mother had told Toby he could stay home from school, until the police could track down his father. Toby had taken off the bandage covering the scar on his head, just to get a little more sympathy.
Pete was ushered from the house by his parents, who went their separate ways as soon as they reached the end of the path.
Toby retrieved the hard drive from his coat pocket. He knew Pete would return soon—they had arranged that he would skip school today. Pete would normally balk at the idea, but he agreed that they were the only people who could save Sarah Wilkinson.
He dialed Emily’s phone number. Emily answered almost immediately and put Lorna on.
“Hey, Lorn,” said Toby. “Emily home too?”
“Yeah, her dad said it would be better if I had company.”
Toby chuckled; that was so typical of Emily’s parents. They always seemed so cool and accommodating. “Pete’s parents sent him to school,” he said.
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“But he’s ditching, and coming back soon.”
Lorna hesitated for a moment. “Why?”
Despite the sadness he was feeling, Toby couldn’t suppress the smug tone in his voice. “Because last night we went back home and took the computer’s hard drive. We should be able to access Hero.com.”
There was a faint gasp from the phone. “I … I thought we’d never be able to … I thought it would have been destroyed.”
“Hopefully not. You and Em get here as fast as you can. We’ve got our own mission to do!”
It was ten thirty by the time everybody arrived. Toby had watched Pete surreptitiously walk past the house twice to make sure his parents hadn’t returned home. When Emily and Lorna arrived, it was clear Lorna had slept very little. Her face was pale, and her eyes bloodshot, but she put on a brave face and actually hugged her brother.
Pete rummaged through the laundry room off of the kitchen. In between the washing machine and an old exercise bike, he found his father’s toolbox. He found the right screwdriver and held it up like a sword.
“Let’s do this!” he said.
His
laptop was an old model, much older than Toby and Lorna’s. Pete unplugged it from the main electrical supply before trying anything. He slipped the screws from the bottom panel and opened it up. A cloud of dust greeted him, forcing him to sneeze.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” asked Emily.
“I was the one who last upgraded this computer.”
Toby looked doubtfully at the elderly system. “Upgraded it from what? An abacus?”
Pete started to point at things inside the case. “This is the hard drive. Looks exactly like yours. This cable leads to the motherboard, which is like the main part of the computer.”
“So we replace your hard drive with ours?” asked Lorna.
“That won’t work. We need Windows to start my system; your version won’t work on my motherboard. Wrong drivers and configuration.”
“You lost me,” said Lorna.
“Well, it is complicated,” said Pete, adopting the tone he remembered mechanics always used when his dad took the car in for repair. Emily snatched the hard drive from his hand.
“It’s simple,” she said, rummaging for a cable in the recesses of the case.
“What’re you doing?” said Pete, aghast, as Emily pushed him aside.
“This cable connects Pete’s hard drive to the computer. It has this other connection on it.” She showed them a plastic socket on the cable and slid it into the back of the new hard drive. “See? Now your hard drive is piggybacked to Pete’s. The computer will see both!”
Pete watched her in amazement as she adjusted a jumper switch at the back of the drive, and then plugged a multicolored power lead into it. “Just make sure the computer thinks it’s a slave … bingo! Turn it on.”
Pete was openmouthed, and speechless for once.
Toby burst into laughter. “You should close your mouth. You’re drooling,” he said, nudging Pete conspiratorially.
Emily slid the side panel on, plugged in the laptop, and powered it up.
“How did you know all that?” Pete finally managed to ask as the computer bleeped to life. Emily smiled shyly.