by Jeremy Scott
James gave it a try. “They’re a result of a custodian—a blocker—using their power.”
“That’s correct,” Bentley said. “So, if we’re going on the assumption that there’s an NPZ under that rotunda in the Resources Room, then we’re also assuming there’s a person down there.” He paused to let us catch up. “A person with the super power of blocking.”
I hadn’t thought about that before, but he was right. NPZs were only a result of powers. Despite many attempts by some of our brightest engineers—and probably even Bentley—no one had yet invented a machine or device that could block the use of a custodian’s abilities.
“Think about it,” Bentley continued, bringing more knowledge to the discussion than most educators. “If there’s something in that room that’s so valuable, so worth protecting, that they’d build a secret room with no door and use an NPZ to guard it … then it’s worth guarding around the clock. This is no come-and-go blocker. This is a permanent resident of that room … forever. All just to protect something so important that Finch deemed it a worthy target.”
“Okay,” Henry said, “but how does that help the blueprints make sense?”
“Because a person needs water, Henry, and almost certainly electricity. Just by looking at these blueprints and seeing where the main water and electrical lines are, I can get a good idea of the position and size of the secret room.”
Henry looked at me as though I knew what that meant, then vocalized his confusion. “I still don’t understand how that gets us in the room, Bentley.”
“Well, we’re going to teleport in, of course. But not until we have more information about that room—size, position, and most importantly … escape routes. In addition to water and electricity, a person also needs air. Oh, and it’s not going to be us going into the room at first. First … we send in the robot.”
The robot?
Bentley reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small rubber ball, roughly the size of a golf ball.
“That’s ‘the robot?’” Henry asked. “That thing?”
“Exactly,” Bentley said with enthusiasm. “This is one of my simplest inventions ever, but it’s perfect for this task. It’s just a simple rubber ball with a homing beacon inside. See?” He pointed at the blueprints. “This air duct goes all the way to the rotunda, runs under the floor, and then stops abruptly. Now, if I’m right, in reality that duct continues on into the secret room, providing fresh, temperature-controlled air to whoever is controlling that NPZ.
“We put the ball-bot in the AC duct here in the main library and send it on its way down toward the room. If the ducts don’t go all the way into the secret room, the ball will bounce back in our direction, which I’ll see here on my computer. But if the ball keeps going, then we’ll know they go straight through, and we’re in business.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Those ducts are twenty-eight inches wide, Phillip. We can fit inside them.”
***
“It’s almost there,” Bentley said with a giggle, watching the bot’s progress on his monitor. All he could see was a little red dot blinking as it slowly moved its way across his screen. But that was enough to tell him all he needed to know.
“Guys, it’s well past the spot I pegged as the boundary.” Bentley looked up at us, resolute. “That’s it … it’s gotta be in there. We can go in now.”
“Now, Bentley,” I cautioned, “just because we can prove the air vent goes all the way into the hidden room doesn’t exactly prove we can get out.”
“Why not? It proves the air conditioning ductwork runs clean through whatever wall is there, all the way into the secret chamber. We already know from the blueprints that it’s big enough for us to fit inside, and it runs along the ceiling. So all we’d have to do to get out is climb up and crawl for a while.”
“Yeah, Bentley,” I argued, “but that’s assuming whoever is in there creating the NPZ is going to just let us leave.”
“Well,” Henry said, joining the conversation for no good reason, “if they’re creating the NPZ, they won’t have any other powers to throw at us.”
“Right. Tell that to Finch,” I said, winning the battle, if not the war. “Not to mention they could simply have a gun or something.”
“If they were protecting it from Finch, that means whoever is down there is on our side. Why are you so sure there’s something or someone dangerous down there?” Bentley inquired, with a hint of an edge to his voice.
It was a decent question since I was really the only person dissenting on this decision, at least vocally.
“I’m not sure. But you know what I am sure of? That we don’t know what’s down there! It could be a secret treasure room full of superhero gold. Or it could be a bottomless cave to the center of the earth.”
“If you want me to break out my snake-cam, I can, and we can run that cable all the way down into that room and prove to you it’s not a bottomless pit.”
“Jeez, how long will that take?” Henry whined. “Screw that, let’s just do it.”
“Come on, now, Henry.” I tried reasoning with him. “You can’t seriously want to go teleporting into some unknown space, do you?”
“How do you know what I want anyway,” he shot back, a little snotty. I hadn’t realized we were even at odds on the issue.
“What about James?” I asked. “You’re acting like he’s just going to go with you whether he wants to or not. Doesn’t he get a choice?”
Henry started to fire back at me, but James spoke first. “Actually, I want to go.”
I turned to face him, shocked. “But you won’t be able to teleport out!”
“Well,” he said, as calmly as if we were debating what to eat for lunch, “Bentley, here, says we can crawl out through the ducts. And that sounds reasonable to me.”
“I can’t believe this!” I was honestly surprised, not that my friends would disagree with me but that they’d all be so risky all at once. “This is crazy. There’s no way we’re doing this.” I started walking away, hoping to pull out a victory through forfeit.
“We’re,” Henry spat, putting the emphasis on first word to hammer home how far apart we stood on the issue, “going to do what we want. You,” he continued, “are going to do whatever the hell you want. Because you,” he sneered, as if the point hadn’t been made already, “are not the boss of us. Got it?”
I didn’t know how things had gone from a disagreement to an argument in such a short time span. I was speechless for a moment. Henry was downright mad at me, and thirty seconds ago, he’d just been bored.
“I—” I stammered, legitimately unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry,” I said, probably sounding a little more pouty about it than I should have.
“I say we take a vote,” Bentley said, grabbing the reins. “All in favor of throwing caution to the wind and going into the secret chamber of unknown contents … raise your hand.” Everyone did except for me.
“All opposed?” Bentley asked.
Hanging my head, I raised my hand with a spectacular lack of confidence and conviction.
“You’re outvoted. We’re going in. You’re welcome to stay up here if you want,” Bentley said.
“Right. I’m going to stay up here while my friends fall to their deaths at the earth’s core.”
“Well, don’t bring the attitude with you,” Bentley said flatly. “If you’re coming with us, I don’t want to hear about how annoyed you are about it the whole time, got it?”
I simply nodded, suddenly wary of any little move or comment potentially drawing more ire from my friends. Have I been acting too negative? Am I too much of a naysayer?
“Okay,” Bentley said. “Everyone in.”
He and Henry immediately reached out and grabbed James’ shoulder, and then they all turned and looked at me expectantly.
Help us, Jesus, I thought, very intentionally. Help us not to die. Amen.
“Thoughts count too, jerkwad,” Henry scolded.
I
reached out my hand.
Ooph!
Upon arriving in the secret chamber, it was immediately apparent I would soon be saying “I told you so,” at least if we got out of this place alive.
It turned out to be a room the exact same size as the rotunda above it, as Bentley had predicted. It was dimly lit by two slowly dying fluorescent lights in the ceiling.
We were standing on one side of the circular room, facing outward. In the center of the room was a pedestal, roughly three feet tall. On the pedestal sat a very old book, completely encased in a glass security case. It was easily the oldest book I’d ever seen. It was hand-made, obviously sewn together, with a cover made of some kind of leathery animal skin.
None of that was immediately alarming. But what sat behind them was.
There were two upright cushioned chairs, side by side on the far wall—the kind of chairs the Founding Fathers probably sat in while they toasted their declaration. Between the chairs, on the wall, hung a picture frame which displayed some kind of old-looking group portrait.
In the chair on the right sat the clothed skeleton of some poor soul who was very dead … and probably had been for some time. His clothes were mostly intact, but instead of hands and a head, there were only bones showing.
The chair on the left might as well have been a throne of fire, for on it sat the now-notorious Mr. Finch. His right leg was crossed over his left thigh, with his stupid double-billed hat resting on his knee. His head was leaned against the tall back of the chair, and his eyes were closed. His arms were crossed and his right hand held his pipe. It looked like he was sleeping.
“I knew it,” I said dejectedly. “I freaking knew it.”
Finch’s eyes sprang open, and a smile slowly crept across his face. It soon faded. “You know,” he began slowly, “I was beginning to wonder if you boys were ever going to muster the courage to come down here.”
We said nothing. I assumed the others were frozen in fear, but I was mostly frozen in anger.
“But look at you. Do you guys understand how monumental a moment this is for you? You just boldly leaped into a room you couldn’t even prove was there!” He sounded impressed, almost proud.
“If you’re going to kill us,” I said stubbornly, “just do it already, okay? I’m not playing any more of your games.”
“I am not playing a game either, Phillip,” he assured. “I’m merely … following a plan.” He stood. “Do you know where you are right now?”
I did not, and he knew it, so he did not wait for a reply.
“This is the clubhouse used by the original founding members of the Believers. You see, back when we founded it, your grandfather and I and our friends,” he threw his right hand over his shoulder, thumb-pointing at the portrait on the wall, “the Believers wasn’t actually a serious outfit.”
“You knew my grandfather?”
“Yes, Phillip; try and keep up. See, we were just college students looking for a way to rebel, and Elben was just as much of a hush-hush topic back then as it is today, maybe more so. What better way to act out—secretly, of course—than to start a society dedicating themselves to the return of Elben?” He leaned forward and quieted his tone slightly, as though letting me in on a secret. “Mostly we just did drugs and waxed poetic about social issues, like most college students. Little did we know how seriously we should have been taking it.”
I was growing impatient with yet another unasked-for history lesson. “Why are you keeping my mom in a coma?!”
“Well, see,” he said, feigning shame, “now, that was unplanned. If you hadn’t surprised me with that little gizmo there in your pocket, that wouldn’t have happened. Frankly,” he said, suddenly no longer ashamed, “I’m surprised you had to call your mommy to come and rescue you.”
I seethed.
“I mean, I wasn’t ever going to actually hurt you. I have bigger fish to fry, Phillip.”
I wondered why Henry wasn’t popping off at him like usual.
“Then just give her back her mind, and let her go,” I shouted.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Phillip,” he said with a phony sadness. “I need her, you see … as a bargaining chip, should certain contingencies … occur.” He uncrossed his legs, placed his cap on his head, and then crossed his legs again in the reverse position.
“We didn’t have to say anything. My father saw you.”
“I know. But you’ve blabbed plenty since then, haven’t you?” He smiled. “I’m not angry. But, still … let’s try and keep this little meeting to ourselves, okay?”
I nodded silently.
“Now, then,” he continued politely, “I hope we can move beyond this thing with your mother for now, because I have more pressing matters to discuss with you. In particular, that book you see before you. That’s for you. Go on now and take it.”
“What is it?”
“Just take it,” he said kindly, adding, “It’s a gift, from me to you.”
“I don’t want your gifts,” I snarled.
Finch looked at me for a moment, cocking his head. “You know, you could have it a lot worse, Phillip. I could just kill you. Instead, I’m not only letting you and your friends live, but I’m offering you a present. The least you can do is accept my gift and be polite about it.”
“I don’t want—“
“Take it!” he screamed. “Take it now!” His tone had shifted dramatically, as to suggest this would be my last warning. After the echo of his voice subsided, he straightened his tie and vest and settled himself back into a proper gentlemen’s temperament.
I hated this man for what he’d done to my mother, but I was far from ready to die, at least not as long as she was alive. If he was trying to frighten me into submission, it was working. I slowly stepped forward toward the pedestal. As I made my last step, Finch’s hand waved in front of him, and the glass security case popped into the air above the ancient book, hovered a moment, and then disappeared into nothingness with a poof.
I reached out my hands, grabbed the book, and walked backwards, retracing my steps.
“My use for this room has come and gone, and I’ve already taken everything I need. However, that book,” Finch said, like a teacher beginning a lesson, “contains the original prophecy of Elben’s return, the prophecy as foretold and written on those very pages you now clutch in your arms, by the visionary Mallea.”
I looked down at the cover. It was plain—no words or pictures.
“This is what you broke into the library for during the SuperSim?”
“Don’t be silly,” he said dismissively. “I broke into the library during the SuperSim so I could steal some other things that were in this place, things I needed very badly. Then I broke back into the library again tonight, so I could be here when you arrived.”
I’m sure my face showed my confusion, but he didn’t stop to explain himself any further. “Please be sure to study that book with care. I believe it will help you understand … what I’m trying to do here. Hundreds of historians have written about that book, but most of them have never touched it or even seen it. The Believers have been guarding it since they took possession of it thirty years ago. Preston, here, gave his life to protect and hide this book and many other documents and treasures from anyone outside our order. His no power zone kept it secret for years until I no longer needed him. So tell me, Phillip,” he said, “are you ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“To know what the prophecy really says,” he softly whispered.
I never believed what it says anyway, I thought to myself.
“I know,” he answered. “What’s it going to take to get you to believe that it’s all real—“the one who can do all”? That his followers, like me, are more powerful than any being you’ve ever encountered? Haven’t I demonstrated my multitude of abilities already? Perhaps you hadn’t noticed, but I’m keeping your mother alive while also reading your mind and keeping an NPZ active in this room … all at the same time.” He soun
ded a little too impressed with himself. “I bet you didn’t even stop to wonder how you were receiving images in a place covered by an NPZ, did you?” he taunted.
He was right. I hadn’t.
“Do you not remember the fire? How many demonstrations do you need before you understand that your fabled Elben is real, and his return is imminent?” He leaned forward, and a deep anger flashed. “Do you need another one right now?” he asked, both politely and menacingly.
I shook my head back and forth, feeling totally helpless. Finch was the ultimate bully—nice one moment, terrifying the next—and he had me completely at his mercy. “There is more left to the part you have to play in this affair, young Sallinger. Perhaps you’ll wake up to the truth.”
I looked down and closed my eyes, hoping to will the entire experience to simply go away.
Surprisingly, it worked. I suppose the timing might have been coincidental, but that was the exact moment Finch banished us from the secret chamber, teleporting us with a flick of his wrist to the more familiar surroundings of the cornfield.
For a few beats, we all just stood there in silence.
I was a stunned, pitiful mess. Part anger, part shock, part blubbering baby. I dropped the archaic manuscript to the ground and felt it bounce off my tennis shoes. “Well …” I said with a sigh and a healthy dose of bitterness, “thanks a lot, guys.” If I’d known they’d only been silent due to Finch’s powers, I might have gone easier on them. Maybe.
I turned and walked all the way home by myself.
Chapter 18: Apologies
“I’m sorry, Phillip.”
They were words I definitely wanted to hear—and even expected to hear—but not exactly like this.
Chad Burke was wrapping up a very heartfelt soliloquy. He’d talked for almost fifteen minutes straight as he and I sat on the picnic table in Mr. Charles’ cornfield. He’d stopped by on a Sunday afternoon unexpectedly, starting right off with an apology for everything and asking if I would be willing to hear him out. My dad was standing right behind me when I answered the door, so I knew I had to do the “mature” thing. If I’m honest, I was also a bit thankful to have some social contact outside my family—I hadn’t seen or spoken to any of the guys all weekend since I still upset about the way things had gone at the library.