Prophet of Doom: Delphi Chronicles Book One

by D. S. Murphy

  She laughed softly. “You’re fifteen.”

  “I have homework and…”

  “And…?” she asked, though I could tell she wasn’t really listening to me.

  “And I’ve been traveling through time trying to figure out how to stop the world from ending,” I said in one breath. She didn’t even bat an eyelash.

  “Tamara,” I said, waiting for her to look at me. Still nothing. I moved in front of the TV, blocking her view.

  “Earth to Tamara!” I shouted, waving my hands in front of her face.

  Her face grew serious and she stood up. “You’re too old to be doing stuff like that.”

  “Well maybe if you would listen—”

  She put her hands on her hips and sighed. “What is it then?”

  She had so much contempt in her gaze I couldn’t think straight. Even though I’d been rehearsing this conversation all day, organizing my thoughts into a cohesive, reasonable explanation wasn’t easy. Tamara was the kind of person you had to be smart with. She hated people who refused to research their facts and think critically about their opinions. She wasn’t as open to other people’s opinions as she liked to think, so getting her to listen without jumping into debate mode would be difficult.

  “After all that fuss, nothing?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “This documentary is profound and inspiring. You’re ruining my intellectual high, not to mention wasting quality education.”

  I laughed at that last part. I knew she was just using big words to make herself seem impressive and shut me down. She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Alicia—”

  “Okay, okay,” I said, holding up my palms. “Please just listen. This is going to sound crazy, but I really need your help. The whole world needs your help.”

  I sat on the sofa and patted the cushion until she sat facing me. I could see she was skeptical, but at least she muted the TV.

  “Remember what I asked Mr. Peters, about whether GMOs in produce could alter human DNA?”

  “Yeah, it was brilliant. I mean, probably far-fetched, but it hit a nerve—I posted something on my blog about it, and it’s actually the most popular article on my site. Where do you come up with this stuff?”

  “The thing is… it’s all real. Really real. It’s actually going to happen. And we need help getting the word out.”

  With a shaky voice, I told her everything. About Brett’s party. About the phylia. About the future, Zamonta and the mods. I told her as much as I needed to until she was convinced. At first, she thought I was kidding, but when she saw how serious I was she looked at me like I was an alien with two heads and three eyes. When I finished explaining, I had to catch my breath. Tamara’s mouth hung open. There was about sixty seconds of silence before she smiled and jumped out of the chair.

  “Oh, my God! Alicia, oh my God!” Her eyes widened with a frantic energy, but she didn’t look scared. “This is incredible.”

  “I just told you the world is ending. Try not to look quite so happy about it.”

  “Of course,” she said, dropping her smile. “Sorry. It’s just, this confirms everything I’ve been saying. That I was right.”

  “Unfortunately, being right isn’t enough. We need to find a way to stop it, to warn people—but nobody would believe me.”

  “And you think they’d believe me?” she scoffed. “I run a university newspaper and have an environmental blog that gets a thousand visitors a month, on a good month. I’ve been campaigning against big corporations like Zamonta for years. Honestly I don’t think I’ve actually changed anything.”

  “You will,” I promised. “In the future, people take you seriously, but by then it’s too late. We need people to listen to you, to trust you. So when you warn them about the big stuff, they’ll listen.”

  “And how do you expect to do that?” she asked.

  I pulled out the folded piece of notebook paper and opened it up on the table. My eyes trailed every word, hoping I’d gotten everything right—that I remembered them correctly. Tamara’s face lit up as I handed her the predictions Tracy gave me. Her eyes moved across the dates, places and figures. She blew out a breath and looked up at me. “Whoa,” she whispered.

  “Right now, this is the only thing I have. Can you publish it to your blog? We thought, if people see that you’re right about this stuff, exactly right, they’ll pay attention to the other things you say.”

  She squeezed my shoulder and looked me in the eyes, the excitement was gone and now they were unnervingly serious.

  “You really believe these things are going to happen? You’re not just pretending?”

  “I’ve been there,” I said quietly. “I’ve seen it. It’s… indescribable.”

  “Because I’d be putting my neck on the line. My reputation. I don’t want to dilute my core message with fantasy or make-believe.”

  “I don’t know how it’s possible either,” I said. “But we’ve tested it. If you don’t believe me, wait for the first one to come true,” I said, pointing at the list. “Then publish the rest. But keep in mind, every day you wait, we could be losing our one and only chance to make a real difference.”

  She squeezed my shoulder and clutched the paper to her chest before grabbing her laptop. She frowned for a minute, biting her lip, then began typing away.

  “It’s cool,” she said. “I’m just creating a character called The Green Lady. I’ll say she tells me things in my dreams. My followers will think it’s just some quirky game.”

  “Until it comes true,” I said.

  “Until it comes true,” she repeated.

  I left her bent over the glowing monitor of her laptop in the living room. I was filled with nostalgia and gratitude. We used to work on projects all the time together when we were little, but it had been so long, I’d forgotten how much fun it could be. I’d been afraid she wasn’t going to believe me. No matter how our lives had changed, she was my sister, and if the world was ending, at least we would fight it together.

  17

  I was finishing breakfast the next morning when I heard three short beeps outside. I peaked through the living room curtains and saw Brett’s jeep outside. What is he doing here? He didn’t even text first. Thankfully Dad wasn’t awake yet, or he would have asked a million questions.

  “He’s cute,” Tamara said, peering out the window beside me. She’d slept over and was about to head back to school. “Who is he?”

  “That’s Brett Peters,” I said, pulling the curtains shut. I frowned at my clothes. I was wearing my new outfit. I thought it looked pretty good upstairs, but now I felt like I was trying too hard. I don’t think my knees had seen daylight for months.

  “Kyle Peters’ son?” Tamara asked, raising an eyebrow. When I nodded, she whistled. “If only he knew his dad was the antichrist of produce.”

  I backed away from the window and stuffed books in my backpack. Tamara eyed me suspiciously. “Wait, does he know? What you told me last night?”

  I cringed. “Possibly.”

  “Alicia,” she said sternly. She sounded like mom used to.

  “Okay, okay. Yes, he knows, but you don’t understand,” I said. “He’s the reason I got to travel in the first place.”

  “He gave you drugs?” she asked, her eyes widening.

  Shit. I forgot I told her about the phylia last night. I didn’t tell her how I got it. “Okay, listen, I know you’re mad right now, but I’m going to be late for school so can we talk about this later?”

  She looked like she was ready to argue, but instead she handed me an apple and motioned to the door for me to leave. “Please go learn something. But keep me updated.”

  Brett’s eyes raked over my body as I approached his car. Maybe this outfit wasn’t so bad after all.

  “Get in,” he said. He was wearing a sly grin, like he was daring me to disobey.

  “Is this a thing now?” I asked. “Picking me up for school in the morning? You better be careful, people might get the wrong idea.”

&nb
sp; “And what idea would that be?” he said, with a teasing smile. His hand moved to the gear shift, dangerously close to my bare thigh. My cheeks burned red as he backed out of the driveaway.

  What the hell is happening.

  “So, how did it go with your sister?” He asked.

  Oh. Of course, this was about the blog. I sighed quietly and typed her website into my phone. I showed him the post she’d put up last night, with the list of predictions.

  “Wow,” he murmured. “That was fast. How did she…”

  “My sister’s pretty resourceful,” I shrugged. “She wrote it after I told her everything. Created a fake persona and everything.”

  “How did she take it?” He asked.

  “Surprisingly well,” I said. “I’m about 60% sure she believes me, or wants to at least. I mean, I basically just confirmed everything she already believes in. I guess people can accept anything if it’s in line with their own views.”

  “Even time travel?”

  “Truth is stranger than fiction,” I replied.

  “Well this is great,” he said. “We have to show Crys and Cody. Meet at lunch?”

  I nodded. My mouth was too dry to answer. Brett Peters wanted to have lunch with me? Like, in front of everyone? I tried to tame the smile on my face but it was out of control—until Courtney blocked my path.

  “Nice look,” she said with a smirk. “Garbage-pail chic, right? Too bad you couldn’t get something to cover those chicken legs of yours.” I pushed past her without answering. She must have seen Brett drop me off. That wasn’t my problem. They’d have to sort out their own drama.

  “Damn, Alicia. Smoking hot,” Chrys said when I saw her in second period. She handed me some pink lip gloss and I smeared it on with my finger. I’d always tried not to stand out in high school, but I enjoyed the looks of appreciation more than I wanted to admit.

  We found the others at lunch and sat at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria. It was technically the reject table, a place people were resigned to when there was nowhere else to sit, but today we made it our own. We needed a place to talk without anyone overhearing us. I pulled out my phone and brought up Tamara’s blog page to check the site visits.

  “Seventeen hits?” Cody’s incredulous tone did not go unnoticed.

  Crys elbowed him in the side and he clamped his lips shut, looking off in a different direction.

  “It’s only been a few hours,” Brett said. “And these predictions haven’t even come true yet.”

  I frowned. Tracy said that even with Tamara’s help, we couldn’t stop what happened.

  “No, Cody’s right,” I said. “This plan is too slow. And in the future, we’d already done this. I think. We can’t just follow the path I’ve already taken. We need to do more.”

  The table fell silent. I stared at the blog, willing the counter to move. Then I sighed and put my phone away.

  “Well, that’s why we’re here,” Brett said, looking intensely at Crys and Cody. “We can’t afford to take the safe route. I mean, this is potentially the end of civilization as we know it, right? We can’t sit around and wait for the grown ups to believe us.”

  “So, what do you suggest?” Crys asked, but her eyes were on me, not Brett.

  Tracy and Tamara had both told me there was nothing else I could do in the future, that everything important was in the past. But what could I do from here?

  “The blog isn’t enough,” I said, “because people won’t find out about it until after, and they’ll just think it’s a scam or a trick. Like she published the things after they happened. People won’t believe it until it’s too late.”

  “So we get her booked on live TV,” Chrys said suddenly. “Something big, that a lot of people will see. If she makes a prediction on camera and it comes true, people will have to believe her.”

  “Nobody is going to book a medium or fortune teller on TV. Not on any serious show. Not unless—”

  “Unless she gets famous first, by winning several lotteries in a row, or predicting a bunch of game scores or something,” Cody finished, grinning. “Teamwork for the win!”

  “The predictions she’s already published on the blog aren’t good enough. They’re a start, but these have to be fresh ones. And I need to memorize more lottery tickets.”

  “More?” Brett asked.

  Shit, I forgot I hadn’t told them about Tracy yet.

  “She means more than one winning number,” Chrys cut in.

  I gave her a grateful look.

  “I’ll need to go back,” I said. “To get more information.”

  “Okay,” Cody says slowly. “So, when should we do it? The sooner the better, right?”

  Crys looked at Brett. “You should get as much phylia as you got yesterday.”

  Brett crossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “Can’t,” he said.

  “Why not?” I asked. My voice sounded a bit whiny, but I couldn’t help it.

  “I told you, that was the last of it. I don’t have any more. I mean, my dad doesn’t have any more. I checked last night. There isn’t any in his office at home. He probably moved it back to his office at work.”

  “Why would he do that?” Crys asked.

  He shrugged. “Maybe he realized some was missing.”

  “Or maybe he’s hiding something,” Crys muttered. “What? We’re all thinking it.”

  Cody put his hands up in defense. “That’s definitely not what I was thinking.”

  Brett’s jaw clenched. “My dad is not involved.”

  Crys straightened, ready with a retort, but I kicked her leg under the table.

  “Maybe he isn’t,” I said, “But I’m pretty sure Zamonta is connected somehow. I didn’t mention this earlier, but I kind of got kidnapped by some thugs in the future. I got away, but I heard them say they were working for Zamonta. Maybe your dad knows what they’re working on in there. It seems like a lead we should follow up on. And we do need more phylia. If nothing else, there’s no way to see whether we’ve actually changed things, unless I can check.”

  “Look, I don’t know what to tell you,” Brett said. His voice sounded irritated. “It’s all gone.” His phone beeped and he glanced at the message that popped up on the screen. Then he looked across the cafeteria. Courtney was waiting for him by the door.

  “I gotta go,” he said, picking up his bag. “We can talk about this later.”

  I watched him join Courtney. She smiled up at him and placed a hand on his arm, then leaned in to kiss him. My stomach tightened in knots. Seeing them together had always made me a little nauseous, but it had evolved from wistful melancholy to raging jealousy.

  Courtney glanced over her shoulder on the way out and saw me watching them. She smirked and grabbed his hand. I quickly looked away and met Crys’s eyes. She had a spark in her eye, which I knew meant she was plotting something I wasn’t going to like.

  “Hey, babe,” she said, turning to Cody. “Do you mind giving Alicia and I some privacy?”

  “Why?” he asked, polishing off his french fries.

  “Girl talk,” she said. “Periods. Tampons. Need I say more?”

  “See you after school,” he said, grabbing his tray and practically running for the door. When he was gone, Crys glanced dramatically around her, then leaned across the table and grabbed my arm.

  “We have to get that phylia,” she said. “There’s no way we can do this without it, and I’m not sure Brett’s going to help us. We need to get it ourselves.”

  “If there’s none left at Brett’s house how the hell—”

  “Think about it,” she said excitedly, squeezing my arm. “Where else can we get some?”

  My eyes widened. “Zamonta? Are you insane?”

  “This is about the. End. Of. The. Freaking. World,” she said, punctuating each word. “Brett was right about one thing. We can’t take the safe way out. You’re sure Zamonta is involved, and you think Brett’s dad has the answers we need, ri
ght?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Brett will always try and protect his father. He’s too close to this. So we shouldn’t count on him to help us. We need to take matters into our own hands. I know you like him, but you can’t let your feelings get in the way of doing what needs to be done.”

  “What exactly are you proposing?” I asked.

  “Recon mission. Get invited over. Ambush him. Make him see reason, but don’t push him too hard. In the meantime, sneak around, find a way into Zamonta.”

  Nothing in that plan sounded like a good idea to me.

  But Chrys was right. We had to do something.

  * * *

  For the first time in a month I was standing awkwardly outside of Brett Peters’ house without being invited. We weren’t leaving anything to chance, so Chrys had Cody invite himself over, then she tagged along. Once they were in, she texted me to join them.

  Brett looked slightly surprised when he opened the door, but recovered quickly.

  “Chrys texted you?” he guessed.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Is that a problem?”

  He shrugged and walked back into the house, leaving the door open. I followed him inside and closed the door gently behind me. Brett grabbed a couple of glasses from the cupboard in the kitchen and opened the fridge.

  “Want a drink?” he asked, opening a bottle of soda.

  “Sure,” I said. I could hear Chrys and Cody in the other room, laughing. I think they were playing a video game.

  “Listen, I’m sorry about earlier,” Brett said. “I was just frustrated. I didn’t mean to blow you off. And I understand this isn’t something we can ignore. I just don’t know what else I can do to help.”

  He handed me a glass and we joined the others in the living room. Crys winked at me as we sat on the overly comfy couches. We went over our plan a few times, but it seemed like we were spinning in circles. Without getting more phylia or digging into Zamonta, there wasn’t much we could do. Eventually Cody put on a movie, and Brett excused himself to do some homework in his room.

  Crys looked at me and nudged her head toward the hallway. I nodded and stood up. Cody glanced at me. “Bathroom break,” I said.