I can feel my heart hammering against my chest. No—there’s no way he can see through the window, not with the Metanites’ high-tech equipment. I stand like a statue, though. Jericho might have broken, but I won’t.
“She’s not there,” Kiaria says.
“Come-on, don’t tease me, Kiaria Ying,” he says.
Shit… How does he know her name? Did Dr. Nancy look up all the Metanites? Is he going after all of them now?
“You Metanites think you’re the next generation of superheroes, but you have no idea what you’re up against. There’s only one person who knows how to beat us, and there’s only one way you found my name and all that information about me. It’s not coming from Dr. Reins’ parade of teenaged wanna-bes. It came from her,” Jericho says.
“She’s not there, and like I said before, we weren’t impressed with your ghost prints,” Kiaria says.
I cannot believe how calm she is. If someone I didn’t know said my name to my face, I would panic.
“That doesn’t mean—” Jericho says.
“She said she didn’t want to see you. She doesn’t want to have anything to do with you, and she doesn’t care what happens to you,” Kiaria says. “And you know that’s true.”
Jericho clenches his jaw and stares at Kiaria like he could kill her with his eyes. I feel a wave of relief run through me, but there’s a small voice in my head that makes the relief bittersweet.
You do care, the voice says.
I study Jericho over one more time.
No, I don’t, I respond to the voice.
“It’s been nice talking to you,” Kiaria says. She stands up and walks to the door.
“Did she tell you about the attack at the Cuyahoga Clinic?” Jericho says.
Shit… he wouldn’t…
Kiaria’s hand just touched the doorknob, but she turns back around.
“Eight people died, our people. Did she tell you she was there that day?” Jericho says.
Dammit, Jericho, you son of a bitch. Kiaria doesn’t move or say anything, and it looks like she’s blocked out from his mind.
“Did she tell you what she stole from Dr. Nancy?” Jericho says.
“Why does that matter to us?” Kiaria asks.
“Kia, get out of there,” Nate says into the microphone. Kiaria must have heard him in her earpiece, but she’s not listening.
Jericho smiles. “Because it’s the only thing keeping her alive. Now that we know she has it, we can’t kill her until we get it back.”
“Is that what brought you here?”
“I came to deliver a message. If Basia tries to pass on what she stole, we will kill anyone who lays eyes on it—including the Metanites,” Jericho says.
I feel all eyes on me, digging into my skin. My skin starts to inch and sweat, but I can’t break. I can’t show them I’m worried. For all they know, Jericho could be fabricating the entire story.
“Kia, he’s trapping you into his own interrogation. End it, or we’ll come and get you,” Nate says. Kiaria doesn’t move.
“Nate, I don’t think the earpiece is on,” Marissa says.
“Shit,” Nate says. He stands up and rushes to the door.
The rest of the Metanites and I follow him out of the dark room and into the hall. When we all make it out of the small room, we see Kiaria already closing the door to the interrogation room.
“Kiaria, are you okay? Could you hear us?” Nate says. He places a hand on her shoulder.
“Yeah… I figured you’d be freaking out when Jericho started talking about…” Kiaria says. She glances over at me.
Now all eyes are on me, again. Great.
“Was he telling the truth?” Marissa asks. I’m not sure if she’s asking me or Kiaria. She dials in a code to the interrogation room, and we hear the door lock.
“It’s complicated… I saw a lot more than I expected, and I’m not sure how it all pieces together yet,” Kiaria says.
“God, I hate that guy,” Elijah says.
“What was he talking about when he said you stole something,” Zoë asks me.
The words are in my mouth, but I force them back down my throat. If I tell them about the tangible dirt, the hunting crew will hold true to their promise and hunt the Metanites. And what about the person I hid the tangible dirt with? He doesn’t even know he has it. Would the hunting crew kill him, too?
Ring! Ring! All of the Metanites’ watches buzz and glow. Just in time.
“Metanites, all of you report to my office at once,” Moton’s voice calls from the watches. The Metanites exchange anxious glances.
“On our way, boss,” Elijah replies.
“Annika, you too, please,” Moton says. I swallow the words in my throat and stay silent. The Metanites start walking toward the elevator, and Zoë glances back at me. She smiles—barely—and nods for me to follow. I should run, but instead I follow her to an uncertain trial of my most recently-revealed secrets.
XIII: Where is Basia Nancy?
Tuesday, March 18, 2065; 4:50 p.m.
First person
We wait in the living room outside Moton’s office. All twelve Metanites—plus myself—find a seat on the two black couches, the two vintage, silver chairs, or the floor. Like the rest of Kenyon, this waiting room carries the same impersonal and grandiose feeling, but packed into a smaller space with a key-locked door and a real window. The oddest part about the room is the fake fireplace made from white bricks; a mirror over the mantal reflects a large square of the room, including the Metanites and me, yet I am the only one who looks at it.
I fidgit in my seat on the floor, and Kono glares at me. Nothing new. Although it’s more quiet than usual, the Metanites whisper among each other, inquiring what Moton wants and why we’re all here. Translation: what the hell am I doing here?
“Learn anything good from reading his mind, Kia?” Abraham asks.
“Nothing good, but I saw a lot. I’m just starting to sort through and make sense of it all,” Kiaria says.
She glances at me, but not for long. It’s just enough to tell me that what she learned was not all about Jericho. She learned something important about me.
“At least we finally got him to crack, thanks to you,” Xander says.
“Thanks to Annika,” Kiaria says.
I feel their eyes on me, and I don’t know where to look, so I look at the ground and pray for Moton to come in.
“Do you think he was telling the truth at the end, when he said… that thing about the clinic?” Zoë asks.
“I don’t know,” Kiaria says.
“Maybe Moton caught something you didn’t,” Izzi says.
“Or maybe he wants us all on the same page,” Nate says.
“Or he wants to kill us by helping the terrorist with whatever she stole,” Kono says. She looks directly at me again.
“Hey—” Nate says.
“I didn’t steal anything,” I say. “And if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you anyway.”
“Kono, don’t—”
The door to Moton’s office clicks, and two adults walk out. Moton is first. He’s wearing his staple grey suit and white blouse underneath; although the dark circles under his eyes and the extra pressure he exerts on his cane show how tired he is.
Ms. Grenavich follows him. Her wild, frizzy hair is pulled back into a low bun, and her dark skin wrinkles around her eyes. Her blue dress drapes around her fit and petite form, and her short heals dig into the carpet. When she looks at me, she makes a deliberate effort to not do so again.
The two adults stand in front of the fireplace, and both fold their hands behind their backs. Ms. Grenavich looks to Moton; he nods then turns to the Metanites.
“Thank you all for efforts to stop our intruder today and to get to the bottom of this. I believe you all have earned the night off. That being said, I’m sure you will understand that the basketball tournament is cancelled tonight,” Moton says.
Abraham sighs, but doesn’t make a show of it. Xander
is visibly upset, too. He opens his mouth to complain, but Ms. Grenavich shuts him down before he could say anything.
“Kiaria, why not you sleep on it, then tomorrow we will compare notes and decide how to handle the situation. And Annika—” Moton says. Everyone turns and stares at me. “Get some rest tonight.”
“That’s it? What about the thing she stole from Dr. Nancy? We could use that to stop him, but she’s putting all of us in danger because of it,” Lazzer says.
“We don’t even know if Jericho was telling the truth. What if he was just saying that stuff to make us turn on Annika?” Nate says.
“Does something that could bring down Dr. Nancy actually exist?” Marissa asks. She’s looking at me, but I’m not going to say a word about it.
“Is there?” someone else asks.
“Annika?” Moton ask. Everyone waits for me to speak.
“I didn’t steal anything,” I say.
“Good. That being said, Moton and I have reached an agreement,” Ms. Grenavich says. “In the interest of the Metanites and the children here at Kenyon, we are not going to pursue this object—whether it exists or not—because the safety of Kenyon and its students comes first.”
“Then why am I here?” I mumble.
Too loud. Now everyone is staring at me. I wonder if they are shocked by what I said, or surprised that I said it first.
“Because Kenyon does not turn anyone away,” Moton says. He glances at Ms. Grenavich, and she takes a deep breath. She turns her attention back toward the Metanites.
“Here’s the one change we are making as a result of Jericho’s intrusion and comments. Annika is to be with one of you at all times, except at night or when she is in her room,” Moton says.
Dammit.
“What?!”
“I don’t care how you do it, but that is your first responsibility,” Moton says.
“Why?!”
“But that’s—”
“It’s a good idea.”
“No it’s not!”
“It’s going to be good for—”
“Enough,” Moton says. His voice echoes through the room, and the Metanites fall silent. “This is for everyone’s best interest. If you have a concern with it, you can come to Ms. Grenavich or me in private.”
I glance around the room and wait for someone else to protest, but Moton has the final word. Not a single person—well, maybe Nate—looks happy about the babysitting order, yet I feel relieved. If this is Moton’s only attempt to elicit from me what I stole from Dr. Nancy, my tangible dirt is safe—
—for now.
“She’s back! New information indicates the international terrorist Basia Nancy was indeed responsible for the despicable attack at Cleveland’s very own St. Patrick’s Day Parade—brought to you by Channel Eight, Cleveland’s best and most watched news channel. Although the police have not released any information concerning suspects and motives, we do have some interesting leads from witnesses and others who caught part of the bombing on tape. Whether she is still in Cleveland or not is an unsettling question for all of us,” says the greying, middle-aged man on the screen.
The Metanites are scattered around the room in their designated cliques. Marissa and Kiaria sit at the table in front of the screens with Zoë standing behind them; their eyes are glued to the nightly news. Nate and Lazzer sit at the table with a deck of cards in front of them, but their attention is also cemented to the screens. Izzi and Kono gossip by the ropes that hang from the ceiling. Abraham, Elijah, Xander, and Nickel wrestle in the arena.
I’m sitting on the stairs near the elevator, as far away from the screens as I can get without tucking myself in a corner like a broken, petrified animal.
“Sources say that Basia Nancy planted the bomb hours before the parade began and waited until several people surrounded the float to set off the explosion. An interesting video clip from West Third Street shows her running into the crowd seconds before the explosion,” the reporter says.
A pixilated video pops up on the screen, and I watch what looks like me push my way into a herd of pedestrians; seconds later, the float explodes. I have to look away.
“Because of the commotion and chaos that followed the bombing, no one caught on camera if Basia Nancy escaped, and the fire squad does not report an adolescent girl among the unfortunate victims of this truly appalling crime.
“However, that all changed today when a brave witness came forward and reported seeing a dark-haired girl flee the scene,” the reporter continues.
I look back at the screens to see a Channel Eight reporter sitting in a deli with a blurred-out figure.
“Yeah,” the interviewee says. It’s Bruce. “I saw her. From where I stood, it looked like she pulled a woman back into the vicinity of the bomb to make sure she wouldn’t survive. But then I see the woman hobbling out of the smoke with Basia still holding onto her. That’s when the Metanites arrived, and Basia fled.”
“This is ridiculous!” Marissa says. “They’re twisting everything.
“Isn’t he one of the guys who was coming after Annika?” Zoë asks.
“They’re just trying to get ratings, that’s all,” Kiaria says.
“We should send them one of our videos of the attack… that will give them some ratings,” Zoë says.
“The Metanites were able to contain the fire and any further damage from the explosion, but there was little the Kenyon training team could do for the eight innocent people who died and the eighteen others still in the hospital. Police and FBI investigators are still looking for Basia Nancy and—”
Kiaria changes the channel, taking us to a network site in New York City, but the same headline runs on the bottom of the screen.
“Basia Nancy strikes again, killing at least eight people in yesterday’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade in Cleveland, Ohio. The dangerous, rogue terrorist is still at large, promising to—”
Kiaria flips to another station.
“Terror strikes again, this time targeting Kenyon School for Gifted Individuals, located in downtown Cleveland. Amid the ferocious storm earlier this afternoon, a small band of men dressed in all black broke through the window of the seventy-first floor. The attack was quickly stopped by the young agents of the special-ops ground known as the Metanites. FBI and Cleveland police believe it was the actions of a European mafia group suspected of coordinating attacks with international terrorist Basia Nancy last year.”
“It’s everywhere,” Lazzer mumbles.
And he’s right; the next two stations are talking about me, too.
“It’s all wrong! Someone must be feeding them information to make Annika look like the villain in all of this,” Marissa says.
“She did have the time to plant the bomb in the parade,” Zoë says.
“You don’t really believe that was her, do you? And how would she have found the supplies to make that bomb?”
“I don’t believe she did it, but it’s an easy story to convince the public,” Zoë says.
“Despite the terror and destruction caused by this individual, FBI and CIA executives are optimistic in their efforts to bring this reign of terror to an end. CIA Director Ibra Henderson says that it’s just a matter of time before they locate Basia Nancy and bring her to justice. Now, just one question remains: where is Basia Nancy?” says the reporter of Channel Five’s Nightly Action News.
Kiaria turns the screen off and tosses the remote aside.
“Quit worrying about it, Kiaria. It’s not like the government is coming after all of us,” Xander says. Elijah pins him against the ground, his forearm pressed against Xander’s neck.
“If they’re coming after one of us, they’re coming after all of us,” Nate says.
“Well, we all know who’s coming after us now,” Xander chokes.
“I still don’t get it,” Zoë whispers. “How did he know to find her at Kenyon?”
“I’m sure they have the technology and aptitude to put two-and-two together. They must have see
n us protecting her after the car bombing,” Marissa whispers back.
“But they knew exactly where we were when they attacked,” Zoë says.
Marissa shrugs her shoulders and glances my way. I pretend that I’m not eavesdropping into their conversation, continuing to stare off at the space between the screens and where the boys are wrestling in the arena. I don’t want to hear it, but I need to know what they’re saying—I need to know what Kiaria learned after reading Jericho’s mind.
“What is she thinking?” Marissa whispers to Kiaria.
Kiaria doesn’t give a verbal response.
“Marissa—” Zoë says.
“Can you read her thoughts?”
“No,” Kiaria says.
“No you can’t read her, or no you don’t want to?” Marissa says.
“I couldn’t read her when Moton asked. What’s the difference now?”
She tried to read my mind? Was this in Moton’s office, or before?
“Well, can you try again?”
“I’m not reading her mind. I don’t want to know what she’s thinking, especially after what we all went through today, and you shouldn’t want to know either,” Kiaria says.
Maybe they’re staging this, knowing that I’m listening in, and when I’m gone they’ll talk about what Kiaria learned from Jericho. But Kiaria just snapped at Marissa… Kiaria is always so nice.
“I wish I could just know what she’s thinking about,” Marissa says. “Can’t you just get a hint of her thoughts?”
“Look at her,” Kiaria says. “What do you think she’s thinking about?”
Jericho… shit. Everything was good, not really good but not a complete disaster either. Everything was fine. But now it’s a complete disaster that’s been hit by a hurricane and an earthquake all at once. Now both Dr. Nancy and the Metanites know what I stole, and I don’t know what to do with it. Goddamn Jericho. Goddamn me; I’m the one who caused this mess.
I should just give the Metanites the tangible dirt and disappear. It’s not like they’re innocent bystanders anymore; they’re already knee-deep in the quicksand that is Dr. Nancy’s experimental empire, so maybe the hunting crew already added them to their death list. But Marissa’s right: how did the hunting crew know where I was today? They didn’t just know that I’m hiding out in Kenyon; they knew the exact window and the exact time. No one outside of Kenyon’s walls would have been able to tell them that.
The Nancy Experiment Page 13