Restitution (The Alpha Drive Book 3)

by Kristen Martin

  “So the shells can really be any size, depending on how long they’ve been alive for?” Riley asked.

  “Looks like it,” Emery responded as she stuck her other foot into the water. Her toe grazed the edge of something smooth. She knelt to pick the object up, feeling disappointed after realizing it was a hollow seashell in the shape of a miniature horn with grey and white pearly swirls covering the surface area. Even though it wasn’t an achioshell, she pocketed her find. It was pretty and smooth and, interestingly enough, seemed to have a strange calming effect on her.

  After searching the white sandy shores for thirty minutes, Riley called out from the far side of the beach. “Hey, I think I found something!”

  Emery dropped the shell she was holding and ran over to Torin, who was standing just a few feet from Riley. “Did you find an achioshell?”

  “Not an achioshell,” Riley said, “but achioshells upon achioshells.” She extended her arms, gesturing at the surface area around her feet. There, just below the water’s surface, were dozens of deep green shells.

  “Whoa!” Emery exclaimed as she reached down to pick one up. She attempted to pry the little guy open, but it was sealed shut. “Not as easy as I thought it would be.”

  “Here, let me try,” Torin offered. He pulled a tool that resembled pliers from his pocket and wedged it within the mouth of the shell. With the push of a button, a buzz sounded and the shell popped open.

  “Neat,” Riley breathed. “How did you do that?”

  “Like your drilltap, these are stunpliers.”

  “How do they work?” Emery asked, feeling concerned for the achioshell. “Is it hurt? Did you kill it?”

  Torin laughed. “Nothing like that, I assure you. The stunpliers just send a slight shock wave to whatever it’s attached to. In this case, I stunned the shell which caused it to loosen its grip and pop open.” As he finished explaining the process, the achioshell began its long journey to close up again. “See, I shocked it just long enough to open, so we’ll have to get the liquid out before it closes again. Em, can you toss me a vial?”

  She rummaged through his bag, grabbing a few of the clear vials along with one of the journals. She tossed one over to him. “While you and Riley collect the achioshell liquid, I’m going to look for our next clue.”

  “You got it, boss,” Torin said, giving her a phony salute. Emery rolled her eyes and smiled, then turned away from her friends to search for higher ground. After climbing up a decent-sized hill, she plopped down on a thick pile of sand, kicking her bare feet out in front of her. She’d already been through the first two journals front and back, and could honestly say she knew them like the backs of her hands.

  Let’s see what’s behind door number three.

  In the twenty minutes that passed, nothing seemed to jump out at her. She could feel her eyes glazing over at the many theories, postulations, and drawings scribbled on each page. It was all starting to look the same, until something caught her eye in the far right corner of one of the pages. The word blacoka had been traced over and over again in black ink and was circled multiple times. Underneath, the circle was the word Kemp.

  Or rather, the name Kemp.

  Emery pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes growing wide. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before,” she said aloud, even though she was way out of earshot. She rose to her feet, the pages of the journal flapping in the wind as she dashed over to where Torin and Riley were busily collecting the achioshell liquid. “Guys,” she panted when she finally caught up to them.

  “Whoa there, tiger,” Torin laughed. “Take a breath.”

  “No time for breathing,” she rushed. “I know what the next clue is.”

  They gathered around her, waiting for her to continue.

  “My mother had a favorite professor at Darden. His name is Professor Kemp. He was my Intermediate Chemistry teacher in Dormance.” She paused to catch her breath. “I felt like he was always watching me. It was such an eerie feeling. And maybe this is why. Maybe he knew that I was Sandra’s daughter.”

  Riley leaned over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes to read what her best friend was pointing at. “Blacoka? What’s blacoka?”

  “I have no idea, but it’s circled, like, eight times and traced over and over again in black ink. What do you think?”

  “I think we have our next clue,” Torin said with a grin. “We’re pretty much finished collecting the achioshells, so let’s get to it.”

  “Right, well, there’s just one problem,” Emery said as she shuffled her feet. “I have no idea where Professor Kemp is. We obviously can’t go back to Darden, because Darden’s in Dormance, and Dormance no longer exists. So how are we supposed to find him?”

  He regarded her, a hint of mischief glinting from his eyes. “Oh, Em. How severely you underestimate my abilities.”

  27

  Back at his apartment, Torin refused to take his eyes off the holoscreen, even with Emery and Riley standing directly behind him. They were so close he could feel their warm breath on the back of his neck. Even though he knew neither of them had any clue what he was doing, it was almost impossible to keep his nerves at bay. “So, about Kemp. Is that all you know about him? His last name?”

  Emery furrowed her brows as she considered his question. “It’s not like I was friends with the guy. He was just my professor. Not to mention the fact that he was creepy beyond all comprehension. Trust me, if you’d been there in class with me, you’d understand.”

  He tapped his fingers impatiently against the desk. Given her level of involvement, he’d expected her to know a little more information or, at the very least, to have been a little more observant. But no, a last name was all he had to work with. “Okay, well he must live in Arizona, right? Since he was teaching at Darden?”

  She bobbed her head from side to side. “Possibly. But he could have moved. Or fallen ill. Or died after Dormance was deactivated.” Her face fell as she considered the possibility. “Argh. This is so frustrating. I should have paid more attention.”

  I’ll say. Torin bit his tongue to keep himself from saying the words. He turned back toward the holomonitor and searched the name Kemp in the state of Arizona database. He sighed as a couple hundred names appeared on the screen.

  “Gosh, how many Kemps can there be in Arizona?” Riley chortled.

  “Can you narrow it by city?” Emery asked. “Try the city of Tucson or the surrounding area. That’s where Darden Prep is.”

  He looked up the zip code and entered it into the search, then added a ten-mile radius. At twenty, the results were more promising, but still not what he’d hoped for. A list of four or five names would have been feasible, but twenty? There wasn’t enough time to visit each address to find the right Kemp. He buried his face in his hands, massaging his temples in the process.

  “Wait,” Emery said as she brought her face closer to the screen. “There.”

  He peeked through his fingers, then lowered his hands altogether. Right next to her finger was the name Donald Kemp. Dr. Donald Kemp.

  “Bingo,” he said with a smile.

  + +

  An hour after locating Dr. Donald Kemp’s address, the trio stood on the professor’s doorstep. Out of the corner of his eye, Torin could see Emery gulp before reaching to ring the doorbell.

  “What if he’s not home?” Riley whispered.

  “Then we’ll wait,” Torin responded. “We don’t really have a choice. We have to talk to him.”

  Emery cleared her throat to silence her friends as the door creaked open. An older man, in his early sixties, stood before them in khakis and a raggedy polo shirt. His glasses sat crooked on his nose and his five o’clock shadow made for a sinister appearance. A cane stood at his side, and Torin realized he was leaning pretty heavily on it for support. Dormance hasn’t been kind to him either.

  “Professor Kemp?” Emery asked with caution.

  The man nodded, but didn’
t speak.

  “We’re so sorry to bother you and to show up unannounced like this, but there’s something important we need to discuss with you. Do you remember me? From Intermediate Chem—”

  “Emery Parker,” Kemp interrupted. “Of course I remember you. Daughter of my favorite student all those years ago. Sandra Parker was quite the firecracker.” He raised an eyebrow as he studied her up and down, his glasses sliding down his nose. “You seem to be a little less vivacious than she was.”

  Emery shuffled her feet, her face flushing a rosy pink.

  “How is Sandra, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  Torin turned to look at Emery as her face fell, then interjected, “Sandra’s actually no longer with us. There were some . . . unfortunate complications after being in Dormance for such an extended period of time.”

  Kemp’s expression mirrored Emery’s as a cloud of darkness rolled over his face. “That’s not the news I was hoping to hear. My condolences to you and your family.” He shook his head sadly. “Sandra was a lovely woman. Brilliant, too. She will be sorely missed.”

  An awkward silence filled the space between them before he invited them to come inside. Emery and Torin made themselves comfortable on the dusty, old couch, while Riley seated herself on an oversized recliner.

  “Would any of you care for a cup of tea?” Dr. Kemp asked as he wobbled toward the kitchen.

  “I’ll get it,” Torin offered as he hurried into the kitchen. “You’ll probably want to sit down for what Emery’s about to tell you anyway.”

  Kemp gave him a confused look, then hobbled back over to the living room. “So, what can I do you for?” he asked as he sat down in front of Emery and Riley.

  Torin could hear the hesitation in Emery’s voice. “Without getting too much into the details, there’s something I found in my mother’s journals that we need your help with,” she said as she flipped to one of the marked pages. “Blacoka . . . is this word familiar to you?”

  Kemp stuck his hand out to retrieve the journal, then sat back in his chair as he skimmed the contents of the page. His face lit up as his eyes landed on the top right corner. “Indeed. I do know what blacoka is.”

  Emery moved to the edge of her seat. “Do you know where we can get some?”

  “I suppose I would.” A twisted smile graced Kemp’s lips. “Seeing as I’m the one who invented it.”

  Torin made his way back into the living room, carrying a serving tray with a teapot and four small teacups. Emery thanked him as he poured her a cup. “So, can you tell us what it is?”

  Kemp took a sip of his tea, then leaned forward and set the cup down on the coffee table. “It’s a substance I created—one that, when burned, releases a fragrance that can be used to promote mental wellness. Your mother was a huge fan of it.”

  “Is it like incense?” Riley chimed in.

  “Exactly like incense.” Kemp’s forehead wrinkled as he tried to recall something. “I remember your mother asking me for a larger quantity of blacoka back in the day. It could have been for research or a project, or perhaps she enjoyed it so much that it was just for leisure,” he said with a shrug.

  “You said that blacoka promotes metal wellness?” Emery confirmed as she jotted something down in the journal.

  “Indeed, I did.”

  “Can you tell me how it works?”

  “I suppose I can give it a shot.” Kemp considered her for a moment before continuing. “When blacoka is inhaled, the components of the formulation are dispersed through the nose cavity into the brain. From there, the molecules behave in such a way that they essentially heal damaged neurons and synapses, as well as rejuvenate the entire neural system.” He smiled at the thought. “Your mother used to say that she was reborn after each use.”

  Emery finished scribbling in her notebook. “Thank you, Professor. This has been really helpful. I guess my next question is . . . do you have any extra blacoka that we could take with us?”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “What for?”

  Torin listened as Emery explained the situation as best she could: Alpha One, sanaré, Operation Revive. He made sure to keep his attention focused on Professor Kemp, whose expressions ranged from surprised to not surprised to complete and total shock. Torin had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing at the man’s shifting caterpillar eyebrows.

  When Emery finished, the professor didn’t say anything. He just sat with his hands folded in his lap, his eyes trained on the coffee table. Finally, after an unnecessarily long and uncomfortable silence, he spoke. “I understand that what you’re trying to do is good. Trying to heal the previous dormants of their illnesses is a good thing. However, have you considered the potential repercussions?”

  “Repercussions?” Emery asked. “How could there be repercussions when we’re trying to heal everyone of something that wasn’t their fault and was completely out of their control?”

  Kemp sighed. “What I mean is that you don’t want to go about disturbing the natural order of things. Once you upset Mother Nature, it’s very hard to get back in her good graces.”

  What in the world is this guy talking about? Torin could sense Emery’s rising frustration and decided to interject. “If you have any available blacoka, even just a small amount, it would really help us out. No one’s talking about ‘changing the natural order’ or whatever.” He immediately wished that last sentence hadn’t come out so defensive. “We just need to see if we can recreate the formulation, that’s all.” He raised a challenging eyebrow. “So, can you help us or not?”

  The professor slowly stood from his chair and started toward a room that had papers and books strewn everywhere, undeniably his office. “Wait here,” he said as he hobbled away from them.

  When he was out of earshot, Emery turned to Torin and whispered, “Thank you.”

  He gave her a small smile. “Well, we didn’t seem to be getting anywhere fast, so I knew I had to shoot it to him straight.”

  “And it worked,” Emery commended as she patted him on the arm. “I just wish I could have been persuasive enough.”

  Had she not wanted him to intervene? Suddenly, Torin couldn’t help but feel like he’d overstepped. “You were plenty persuasive,” he assured. “I just wanted to get things moving. We’ve already been here for over an hour.”

  Kemp’s voice broke the tension. “You’re welcome to come in here!” he called from his office.

  Riley was the first one to pop out of her chair. Torin and Emery followed close behind as an oaky smell filled the hallway, but the smell suddenly turned burnt. She turned to him with wide eyes. “He’s not—”

  Torin gritted his teeth. “Oh, I think he is.”

  They raced into the office to find Kemp standing over a large wastebasket, the contents blazing in flames. He was about to dump even more of the blacoka sticks into the basket when Torin charged at him like a bull seeing red for the very first time. “Don’t you dare!” he yelled as he tackled Kemp to the ground.

  Emery and Riley watched with wide eyes as the scuffle unfolded: Kemp’s cane flying into the air, Torin’s arms flailing as he tried to grab the rest of the blacoka.

  “You’ll never have it,” Kemp grunted. “It’s mine. And now it’s all gone.”

  “There’s still . . . some . . . left,” Torin managed to say through ragged breaths. “Give it to me.” He pinned the professor’s arm against the cherry wood floor, pulling the sticks from the old man’s grasp. Kemp tried to head-butt him, but he wasn’t quick enough. Torin sat back just in time, holding the blacoka sticks up in the air where the professor couldn’t possibly reach them.

  Footsteps grew nearer as Emery and Riley approached him. “Here, I’ve got them,” Emery assured as she tried to take them from Torin. But his fingers were grasped too tight. “Torin, you can let go,” she soothed. “It’s okay. I’ve got them.”

  He broke out of his crazed trance and slowly loosened his grip, finger by finge
r. He shook his shaggy hair out of his eyes, although a few strands remained stuck in the sweat that had formed on his forehead, then pushed himself up from the ground and dusted the dirt and debris from his pants.

  With a final glare at Kemp, who was still lying motionless on the floor, Torin turned to walk out of the office, noticing that Riley was busy trying to salvage any of the blacoka from the mess of black smoke hovering over the trashcan. It wasn’t like him to tackle an old and slightly crippled man, but he hadn’t seen any other option. Blacoka was needed for the sanaré formulation—without it, they would have been screwed.

  He watched from the doorway as Emery extended a hand to Professor Kemp. Even though the man had just attempted to destroy their only hope of returning the world back to normal, there she was to lend a helping hand.

  Kemp grunted as he took her hand. She pulled him up, then brought herself uncomfortably close to his face. “You almost cost the world its future,” she scolded through clenched teeth. “You should really learn to think before you act.” And with that, she turned on her heel to meet up with her friends.

  “Ready?” Torin asked.

  He held up the bag of blacoka sticks and nodded. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  28

  It hadn’t been easy, but Byron had finally found a few free moments where he didn’t have to worry about Alexis or Emery, only himself. He’d been alone for so many years and, while he’d missed his family greatly during the Dormance-phase, the hustle and bustle of life with his daughters was definitely taking some getting used to.

  Alexis had been awake when he’d left, and he’d suggested that she invite a friend over briefly while he ran a quick errand. Fast-forward to now, Byron stood in his office at 7S Headquarters with the very best scientists from Naia’s team standing in front of him. Among them was Dr. Matheson, a close friend and colleague of Sandra’s for many years. The thought of his late wife brought with it a sense of guilt, but was quickly overshadowed by grief.