by M. K. Krys
“Relax, I modeled this off an experiment I did in the fifth grade for the science fair,” Arthur said. “I’m not a terrorist.”
“Sounds like something a terrorist would say,” Everleigh said.
Arthur just shook his head.
“Are you sure it’s going to work?” Beacon asked.
“Well, to be honest, it didn’t exactly work at the science fair,” Arthur said. “My rocket just sort of . . . tipped over instead of launching off the table. I got a B-minus.” He said this as if he were making a confession.
“So embarrassing,” Everleigh said sarcastically.
“Incoming,” Beacon said.
Everleigh quickly switched off the flashlight. They ducked into the grass on the side of the road as a car whizzed past. After a moment, Beacon poked his head up again.
“Coast is clear.”
Arthur and Everleigh popped back up. Traffic seemed so scarce until you had to duck every time a car went past. It was starting to get annoying.
“Are you almost done?” Everleigh said, switching the flashlight back on.
“Actually, yes.” Arthur pushed himself up to his knees and pulled a stub of a candle out of his pocket. “Once this is lit, we need to get way back. When the flame catches on this stuff,” he said, gesturing to whatever it was he’d sprinkled over the pipe, “it’s going to blow.”
Arthur tied a rope around the candle, and then he pulled a barbecue lighter from his pocket. After three attempts, he managed to get a bright blue flame burning from the end of the long wand. He lit the wick, then gently lowered the candle into the hole. He stood up slowly, careful not to disturb the dirt. All three of them took big, cautious steps backward, then Arthur gave the rope a hard yank meant to tip over the candle, and they turned around and ran.
Beacon and Everleigh dove behind a large tree, and Arthur tucked and rolled after them like some sort of action movie star.
They waited.
And waited.
And waited.
“Well, this is anticlimactic,” Everleigh said after a few minutes had gone by.
“I don’t get it. It should have worked,” Arthur said.
“Maybe the candle went out?” Beacon suggested.
“That’s possible,” Arthur said. “It is a bit windy.”
He stood up.
There was a blinding flash of light as the pipe exploded. Beacon saw Arthur go flying back, right before he covered his head and ducked low. Shards of dirt and metal sprayed over him, and he flattened himself farther into the cold grass. Slowly, he opened one eye. His ears rang, and a pillar of smoke and dust funneled into the air from where the bomb had gone off.
Beacon coughed, pushing himself up. He did a quick inventory to determine if he had any missing parts and was relieved to find they were all intact. Everleigh sat up warily.
“Arthur, are you okay?” Beacon asked, getting to his feet.
Arthur was lying flat on his back a few feet away, his arms and legs spread like a starfish. Soot stained his cheeks, and he stared at the sky with horror all over his face.
“I can’t see anything!” he shrieked.
Beacon calmly picked up his glasses from the grass nearby and slid them onto Arthur’s face.
“Oh. Awesome,” Arthur said. He sat up and hoisted his bag.
“Wow, I can’t believe that worked,” Everleigh said. “Arthur, that was so cool!”
Arthur gave her a wobbly smile. If Beacon didn’t know better, he would have sworn Arthur’s cheeks were tinged pink. To think he’d thought Arthur was smart. No one with a brain would ever have a crush on his sister.
“Come on, let’s get going.” Everleigh raced over and shined her flashlight at the busted drain.
Beacon blew smoke out of his face as he peered down. Sludge shone from the bottom of a narrow pipe about eight feet below the ground. It would be a tight fit for an adult, but it was just big enough for a kid.
Without a word, Everleigh sat on the edge of the hole, then dropped down and crawled into the pipe. Arthur was next, and then it was Beacon’s turn. He sat down, took a deep breath, and pushed off. It was farther down than it looked, and he landed at the bottom with a thud that rattled up his spine. Groaning, he rolled onto all fours. The pipe in front of him was narrow, dark, and coated in slime. It smelled like rusted metal and fish.
“Is everyone okay?” Beacon whispered. He couldn’t see anything past Arthur’s crouched body in front of him.
“We’re fine,” Everleigh called from up ahead, the narrow beam of her flashlight bouncing off the grimy pipes.
“All right. Then let’s get moving,” Beacon said.
The group inched forward.
Beacon crawled after his friends, his hands and knees instantly coated in the mystery goop. Before long, his palms stung, his knees ached, and his body was weak from the cold. He didn’t know what waited for them at the end of the pipe, but if they didn’t get out soon, they wouldn’t be able to fight their way out of a wet paper bag. Beacon realized that was a phrase his dad would have used. He pushed the sudden image of his dad’s gaunt face out of his mind and kept moving.
After what felt like an eternity, Everleigh whisper-shouted from farther up the pipe. It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn the light seemed different ahead.
He crawled faster, and yes, it was definitely lighter. Hope bloomed in his chest, making him feel light-headed. The pipe gave way to a tall passageway. One by one, they crawled out and stood up. Pale light streamed in from an iron grille overhead. Beacon tried to peer through, but it was too high up to see much.
“Come on, Beaks.” Everleigh put down her flashlight and locked her fingers together. Beacon stepped on her linked fingers. He steadied himself with Arthur’s shoulder and boosted himself up, wrapping his fingers around the bars. He pushed. For a horrible moment, nothing happened, and he worried that this was all for nothing. That they would have to crawl all the way back—and without their dad. But when he pushed a second time, there was a popping sound, like a jar lid coming unstuck. Beacon eased the grille aside and peeked over the edge.
“What do you see?” Arthur whispered.
“It’s a massive room,” Beacon said. “Unfinished. Concrete floors, metal support beams all over the place. There’s machinery and wires and pipes everywhere. “
“It must be the mechanical floor,” Arthur said. “That’s perfect.”
“Is there anyone around?” Everleigh whispered.
Beacon scanned the room. It was huge—it must have taken up the entire floor of the building. But he didn’t see any movement in the shadows.
“Not as far as I can tell. Push me up.”
Everleigh grunted and heaved him up, and Beacon clambered through the gap. Arthur was next. Then Beacon and Arthur reached down and hoisted Everleigh through. They replaced the grille, just as Beacon heard a scrape behind them. He turned around slowly, dread prickling the hairs on the back of his neck.
A thickset woman with ruddy cheeks and Brillo Pad hair pulled into a tight bun had just emerged from a door off the main room. Beacon’s fear instantly gave way to relief.
“Donna!”
Beacon had hoped they would find her, too, but he hadn’t expected to do it so soon.
But Donna didn’t smile or rush over to greet them, like he expected.
“What are you doing here?” She stepped forward into the small circle of light cast by a dim bulb. That’s when Beacon realized what she was wearing. A freshly pressed, Sov-issue guard uniform.
“Donna, it’s us,” Beacon said. “We’re here to get you out.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and she stomped toward him.
“Get away from her!” Everleigh cried. “She’s had the antidote!”
But it was too late. She closed the distance between them, her
fingers gripping something at her waistband: a baton.
“Beacon!” Arthur yelled. Beacon looked back, and Arthur tossed him the PJ. The wand soared through the air, end over end. Beacon caught it, just as Donna pulled out her own weapon. Blue electric light flared from the end of the long steel baton.
She thrust her weapon toward Beacon. Beacon panicked and raised the PJ up like a sword, blocking her. Their wands met in the air with a resounding clang. Donna smiled then: cold, dark, cruel. Fear shot through him, but before Beacon could react, she depressed the trigger.
A sudden, intense jolt of pain went through his body. His stomach clenched and his arm lost feeling, his legs turning to gelatin beneath him. If that was the effect of the baton when it hadn’t even touched his skin, he didn’t want to think about what a direct hit would feel like.
The PJ fell from his fingers with a clatter, and Beacon dropped to his knees.
“Beacon!” Everleigh cried, running over.
“Run,” he grunted.
But even as he said it, Beacon knew his sister would never listen. Everleigh was as loyal as she was stubborn.
“You’ll pay for that,” Everleigh told Donna, her hands curling into fists.
In one swift movement, Everleigh rolled across the floor, picked up Beacon’s PJ, and landed on her feet again. But Donna was deceptively fast. She slammed into Everleigh, knocking her to the ground. The PJ went clattering across the floor. Donna bent down and pressed her knee into Everleigh’s chest, the baton gripped tightly in her hand.
“Please, Donna, we don’t want to hurt you,” Everleigh gasped out.
“I think you’re a little confused about who’s getting hurt here,” Donna said.
Just then, a shadow fell over Donna. She started to turn, but it was too late. Arthur jammed the PJ into her side and depressed the trigger. Donna’s body went rigid as the jolt traveled through her. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she went as limp as a rag doll, collapsing on top of Everleigh. Everleigh cried out as Donna’s full weight landed on her, knocking the wind out of her. Beacon struggled to his feet and staggered over, and then he and Arthur shoved Donna off his sister. Everleigh rolled to her feet.
“Are you okay?” Beacon asked.
“Just crushed a few ribs, but who needs those, right?”
Everleigh sat up and dusted herself off. Then they all looked down at the innkeeper. She lay completely still, facedown on the concrete floor. Then Donna’s arm twitched. They gave her a wide berth as she rolled over onto her butt. She blinked up at the kids, a stunned looked on her face.
Beacon stepped forward hesitantly. “Donna? How are you feeling?”
She smacked her lips together, then swallowed heavily.
“Do you need water?” Arthur said. “I was really thirsty after I was jolted.”
He reached into his bag and pulled out a water bottle, bringing it to her lips.
Lightning fast, she snapped out her arm and grabbed Arthur’s wrist.
“It’s me, Arthur,” Arthur yelped. “We’re here to help you. You’re not under the Sov’s control anymore!”
But Donna didn’t listen. She grabbed Arthur’s throat with her other hand. Her face was chillingly wooden as she squeezed his neck. Arthur sputtered and choked, grabbing uselessly at her hands. His lips turned a sickening shade of blue.
“Let him go!” Beacon screamed. He pulled at Donna’s arms, trying to loosen her grip on Arthur. “Donna, it’s us! Stop!”
But if anything, her fingers only dug more deeply into Arthur’s neck. His eyes fluttered closed. She was going to kill him.
14
There was a flash of movement in Beacon’s peripheral vision, right before Everleigh cracked Donna’s baton into the side of her head. Donna went down. A pool of blood seeped from her temple onto the tile. Arthur dropped to his knees and sucked in deep, wheezing breaths.
“Are you okay?” Everleigh asked.
“W-why didn’t it work?” Arthur gasped.
Beacon’s mind went into a tailspin. Arthur hadn’t had a chance to test his invention on anyone, so it was possible it was defective. But the kid was a genius.
“Victor,” Beacon said suddenly, the puzzle pieces clicking together.
Of course. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. “Victor developed the PJ with us. He knows everything about it. He must have told the other Sov about the electrocution glitch, and they updated the antidote.”
“So the PJ wasn’t defective,” Arthur said.
“More importantly,” Everleigh said, “PJs aren’t going to work anymore—electrocution won’t jolt the lemmings out of being mind-controlled. We’re totally screwed! How are we supposed to get hundreds of people out of here if they don’t want to go with us?”
“I don’t know,” Beacon said. “But this is our only chance to get Dad out.”
Arthur stood up. He shoved the water bottle and PJ back into his bag, then threw the bag over his shoulder.
Everleigh looked down at Donna’s still body. She hesitated for a moment before she bent down and laid a palm over the innkeeper’s chest.
“Is she . . . ?” Arthur said.
“She’s alive,” Everleigh said. “Barely.”
“You had to do it,” Beacon said. “She was going to kill him. You saved Arthur’s life.”
Everleigh swallowed roughly and stood up. She cleared her throat.
“Which way?” she asked Arthur, suddenly all business.
He consulted the map from his pocket. “I think we’re on the first mechanical floor,” he said. “If this is east, which I’m pretty sure it is, then that must mean the prison is . . .” He spun around and faced the opposite direction. “That way.”
They set off, sneaking down hallways and up narrow stairwells. The place was quiet and still, like a graveyard at night. Darkness hung over the building, save for the neon emergency lighting throwing green beams across the tiled floors.
Beacon kept expecting to run into people, but there wasn’t even a sleeping guard at the security desk they slid past. But the place couldn’t really be empty. The thought that the Sov were here, somewhere, was somehow creepier than if the place had been packed with squids. Beacon couldn’t help thinking about the monsters lurking in the dark, about a tentacle whipping out to drag him into the shadows.
He focused on the fact that his dad was here, somewhere, and kept moving.
They were just passing through a darkened rotunda when he heard a noise. Beacon froze.
“Shhh!” he said, gesturing for the others to stand still. Everleigh and Arthur stuttered to a stop, their backs turned to each other, their ears cocked to the hallways branching out all around them.
They stood there. One moment. Two. No sound but the crashing of Beacon’s heart.
Just then, clacking boots echoed from down one of the corridors, and a voice said, “Hurry up, we don’t have all day.”
He recognized that voice.
“Quick, hide!” Beacon grabbed Everleigh’s and Arthur’s arms, and they ducked into an alcove. They flattened themselves against the wall. After a moment, Beacon peeked out and saw Nixon’s wiry black curls come into view. He wasn’t alone. Perry walked behind him. His biceps bulged under his Gold Stars letterman jacket as he roughly dragged a prisoner forward. The girl stumbled, blinking against the neon lights. Nixon knocked on a door farther down the hall. The door whooshed open, and Perry shoved the girl inside before the door closed again.
Perry turned, and Beacon ducked back into the alcove.
“I think I saw someone over there,” Perry said.
The spark of fear inside Beacon’s belly ignited like it had been doused in gasoline.
“There’s no one covering this floor but us,” Nixon said. “You know that.”
“No, man, I swear I just saw something by that alcove,” Perry
said.
There was a heavy sigh. Boots squeaked on the tile. Beacon’s whole body tensed as Nixon rounded the corner. His eyes went wide at the sight of the three of them. His jaw flexed before he called, “Just like I said, there’s no one here.” He stared daggers at Beacon before he turned around and joined Perry again.
“They won’t need any more participants for a while,” Nixon said. “Get down to the queen’s rooms in the west wing and help Sumiko guard the doors. And don’t screw up,” he added. “Victor won’t trust us to be Junior Guards if you let anyone get in or out.”
A moment later, Nixon reappeared.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped.
“Oh, you know, we were just in the neighborhood,” Everleigh said sarcastically. “What do you think we’re doing here? We’re trying to get our dad out. The real question is, what are you doing here?”
“Trying to free prisoners,” Nixon said.
“Oh really? Because from here it looks a little different,” Everleigh said.
“I was going to get them out once I got rid of Perry,” Nixon shot back.
Everleigh snorted.
“Look, if I went around acting like the Terminator trying to free all the prisoners, I’d just end up one of them,” Nixon said. “I have to be smart about this. Do you know how tough it was to get the Gold Stars assigned here? We weren’t even supposed to know about this place. I’ve been working hard to find out as much as I can. I’ve been doing my patrols by Sov meeting rooms to try to get inside info and . . . it’s bigger than we ever thought.”
“What do you know?” Beacon said eagerly.
“Things are bad.” Nixon looked around before lowering his voice even further. “The Sov are planning a blitzkrieg attack on the planet. They’re going to douse everyone in toxic rain. That’s what they’re testing in there.” He jerked his head at the door. “I think they’re close, too. I overheard the scientists talking about it. We need to stop them before it’s too late. We have to find the Rainmaker. I’ve scoured the whole place, but it must be hidden or something.”