by M. E. Castle
“Over there!” Dr. Devilish panted out. “Look!”
Fisher whipped his head around to see where Devilish was pointing. There was what looked like a small cement building up ahead, with a door just visible in its side. They ran for it, and Devilish heaved the metal door open, herding the others inside before slamming and bolting the door shut behind him.
They were plunged into pitch darkness. Everything was quiet except for the faint, muffled hums and whirrs of the machines outside and the frantic sounds of their own breathing.
A panel in the ceiling lit up, washing the small cement room in buttery yellow light.
“Well,” GG said, patting down her hair. “That wasn’t too bad. We’ll just stay in here until someone notices we’re missing and comes for help.”
Kevin was blubbering. “I—I want to go home.”
“Quiet,” Amanda said sharply. “We’ll just have to wait here, like GG said. At least we’re safe.”
Then there was a click. Then another. Finally, a steady, slow click-click-click filled the room.
“I don’t want to alarm anyone,” Dr. Devilish said in a high, trembling voice, “but has anyone else noticed that the ceiling is getting lower?”
CHAPTER 18
My mistake. This is actually the ideal time to panic. If there were a “panic” spot on the clock, both hands would be right smack on it. It is panic past panic o’clock.
—Hal Torque, brief sidekick to Vic Daring, even fewer
moments before being eaten by a space monster
FP ran in a circle, feeling his way around the walls. The door they had bolted wouldn’t unbolt, and there were no other exits.
Everyone was shouting at once, running around in the tiny space. Dr. Devilish and Kevin Keels crashed into each other, and the smaller Keels nearly flipped over backward, smacking into the wall. As he slid onto the ground, shaking his head dizzily, a panel in the wall was dislodged, revealing a small computer screen.
“Hey!” Keels cried out. “Look at this. It’s some kind of control panel.…” He squinted at it. “There’s a weird math problem on the screen.…”
“Let me,” Fisher said, pushing him out of the way as the ceiling crept downward. His heart jerked with every click.
“It’s not a math problem,” Fisher said. “It’s a chemical equation.”
The question was fairly straightforward stoichiometry, and Fisher felt a surge of triumph: he knew the answer. Stoichiometry was what he’d been reviewing with Mr. Granger just before the teacher had revealed himself as Dr. X. Fisher did some quick calculations in his head and tapped in the answer on the keyboard. The terminal made a pinging sound, and a second question appeared.
“Looks like lyrics to one of your songs, Kevin,” Fisher said. “With a bunch of blank spots.”
Fisher got out of the way as Kevin Keels crouched down and filled in the blanks as fast as he could. Dr. Devilish could no longer stand up straight. The room was getting stuffier and hotter, and Fisher felt the sweat running down his back.
“Okay!” Keels said. “It’s, uh … it’s a question about fashionable canine ortho … orthodontitis …”
“Orthodontics,” Fisher corrected him.
“Dog braces?” Amanda piped up. “They make those?”
“Out of my way,” GG McGee said, almost throwing herself down to the keyboard. She took a few seconds to parse through the question before her hands flew over the keyboard, landing on the keys like a hard rain. “Done! Now what’s this?… A question about different varieties of hair gel!”
Dr. Devilish dropped from his knees to his stomach and read through the questions. Fisher was hunched over already when he felt the ceiling touch the back of his neck. He went down to his knees, his breathing getting shallower.
“Please hurry, please hurry,” said Keels, lying on his back, his eyes frozen on the ceiling as it descended. Fisher felt the ceiling brush against his hair and went down to his stomach.
“Please shut up so I can concentrate,” Dr. Devilish replied. He took a deep breath, and hammered the keyboard like he was trying to tattoo his answer into it.
Fisher’s eyes were shut tight, his arms wrapped around FP.
The clicking stopped.
He opened his eyes as the ceiling retreated upward. Then a portion of the wall shuddered downward like a drawbridge, revealing an open path through the forest.
Dazed, they ventured carefully out into the open, eyes darting back and forth, searching for movement. But the robots had either given up the chase or were deep in hiding.
Fisher’s mind was spinning. He thought about the computer panel and its series of questions. “A test,” he said grimly. “There was a test for each of us. Whoever this guy is, he knows a lot about us. He must have been watching us for years.…”
“Why wasn’t I tested?” Amanda said.
“Because you weren’t supposed to be here,” Fisher said. An awful coldness settled in the pit of his stomach. Amanda had almost been squeezed to death by an android, slashed to pieces by steel trees, and crushed to pulp by the trap room—all because he’d asked her to come with him.
As though sensing what he was thinking, Amanda reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered. He managed a faint smile in her direction.
Cautiously, the group advanced along a trail cut conveniently into the artificial wilderness, until they reached a thirty-foot-deep chasm that stretched along in both directions.
“Welcome to my moat,” boomed out the unseen Producer, making everybody jump.
“Aren’t moats supposed to have water in them?” Amanda shouted, struggling to look defiant.
“When you fall thirty feet onto solid steel, the water isn’t really necessary, except perhaps to clean up the mess,” the Producer replied in an amused voice. “As you may have noticed, I have recalled my little … friends for the time being.”
Fisher thought of the army of metal monsters and shivered.
“Your next challenge is to get across the moat,” continued the Producer. “But I’m warning you—the patience of my little creations won’t last forever, so I’d get on with it.”
They looked across the gap. It was more than half as wide as it was deep—more than wide enough to stop even the most reckless person from attempting to jump it. Both sides of the chasm were lined with smaller trees that appeared to be mere scenery; thankfully, they weren’t outfitted with blades or whirling branches.
Fisher felt FP tugging on him by a dangling backpack strap.
“Not now, boy,” he said. “I’m trying to figure out how to get across.” FP tugged more insistently. “Seriously, FP, now is not the …” he trailed off. “My bag!” He unslung his backpack from his shoulders, and rifled through its contents.
“Thanks, boy. You’re more helpful than I give you credit for.” FP snorted and looked as pleased with himself as a pig could look.
“Amanda?” Fisher said excitedly. “I think I can get us across the gap, but I’ll need your help.”
“As usual,” she replied. Fisher was about to issue a new string of apologies, but when he looked up he saw a small, teasing smile on her face. “What’s the plan?”
Fisher pulled his stretch necktie out of the bag. “This will serve as a zip line,” he said. “We can stretch it from one side of the moat to the other. But first somebody needs to cross. That’s where these come in.” He pulled out his specially engineered socks. “They’ll absorb the shock of the fall and let you jump-bounce to the other side.… I’d do it, but I’m not very athletic,” he added apologetically.
“That’s an understatement,” Amanda said, rolling her eyes. She was already pulling off her own shoes and socks and tugging on the jump-socks.
Fisher and Dr. Devilish tied one end of the necktie securely to a tree, and Amanda took the other end in her hand. With a simple nod and no hesitation, she leapt into the pit. She landed squarely on her feet. The socks absorbed the force of the fall and red
irected it into the steel floor so that Amanda was catapulted upward. She landed neatly on the other side. Working quickly, she located another tree and tied it off.
“Wow,” Dr. Devilish said. “Nice socks.”
“Thanks,” Fisher said. “After a while, I got tired of always having to ask someone to reach the tall shelves for me.”
“Now what?” GG said. “Do you expect us to shimmy across?”
“Nope,” Fisher said. “I expect us to slide.” With that, he pulled the bow-tie version of his stretchy ties from his bag.
“What’s that?” Keels asked.
“Style,” Fisher said as Dr. Devilish nodded approvingly. “Or at least, it was, at some point in history. But it’s also strong enough to hold us.”
He bit his lip and drew Dr. Devilish a little ways away from the others. “Do you want to double-check my weight calculations?” he asked in a low voice.
“Your …?” Dr. Devilish shook his head. “I … uh … I’m afraid … well, contractually speaking …” He took a deep breath. “Look, kid, I can’t calculate my way out of the checkout line at a grocery store. I’m … I’m not a scientist.” He let out a long sigh. “Never have been. In fact, I’m not even a decent actor. I got this Strange Science gig because of my looks—and my dazzling smile.” He flashed his famous smile at the group, and Fisher had to admit, it was impressive. Then his face fell again. “This gig is all I have. Please don’t tell anyone.”
Dr. Devilish looked so earnest, Fisher couldn’t even be angry with him. “Your secret’s safe with me,” he said, and Dr. Devilish looked relieved. Then Fisher turned back to the rest of the group. “Okay, guys. We’ll just have to risk it. I’ll go first.”
He put his bag back on, put FP into it, tied the bow tie around the necktie, took hold of it with both hands, and with a running jump, slid across the chasm on the makeshift zip line. When he reached the other side he turned and sent the bow tie hurtling back.
Keels crossed next, blubbering and moaning the whole time. Dr. Devilish was preparing to make his crossing when a motion to Fisher’s right made him whip around. He squinted into the foliage, he felt his hair stand up as he saw, or thought he saw, his own eyes looking back at him.
“Two?” he said, stepping forward. “Two, is that you?” But the leaves closed in, and the eyes vanished.
“Did you see that?” he asked Amanda.
“See what?” She frowned at him.
He shook his head. Maybe he’d been seeing things.
A piercing scream cut through the air. Fisher turned to see that the tie had come unknotted from the far side of the chasm. GG, the last to cross, was dangling from one end of the tie, shrieking and kicking, gripping the necktie for dear life. The fall wouldn’t kill her, but she could easily break an ankle or an arm, and any injury in this death maze could prove fatal to the whole party. Fisher hurried over and helped Amanda and Dr. Devilish hoist her up as Kevin Keels stood behind them, quivering and sweating.
With all five people—and one pig—finally across, FP sniffed around and made a couple of quick squeaks at Fisher. He was leading the way. Maybe, Fisher thought, he would lead them to an exit. Sure enough, a path opened in the trees in front of them. There was nothing to do but go forward.
The path ended at the base of a massive stone building. It was made of what looked like cream-colored stone and constructed in a series of steplike levels, much like a Mayan pyramid. The stairs ascended almost all the way up the pyramid, but came to an end at the second-highest level. There was no apparent way to reach the top level.
After what seemed like forever, they finished their climb. They all stopped and looked around, not quite sure what to do next. They could see the sprawling metal jungle below them and the pyramid’s unreachable triangular top above them, but no obvious route of escape.
Fisher noticed that the top level of the pyramid was actually a film production booth, surrounded by opaque glass, and encircled with its own narrow balcony, but it was just high enough to be out of reach, even for Dr. Devilish.
“Congratulations,” said the Producer over the speaker system. “You’ve reached the end of the obstacle course. I should warn you, however, that your trials and troubles aren’t over; in fact, they’ve hardly begun. But before I send you all to your doom I think it’s at least polite for me to introduce myself.”
A door hissed open in the side of the production booth, and a small man emerged, looking down at them from his high perch.
Fisher’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes felt like they would freeze solid and fall out of his face.
The man stood with his arms clasped behind his back. He wore an all-black jumpsuit with black, thick-soled boots, and tight, black leather gloves. His thin, dark hair was slicked back from a broad forehead that overlooked a long, hawk-like nose.
Harold Granger. Known otherwise as Dr. X.
CHAPTER 19
Many people say that gardening relaxes them. I have a similar method of relaxation, except that instead of cultivating begonias, I cultivate the terrified expressions of people facing imminent doom.
—Dr. X, Personal Notes
It should have occurred to Fisher that if Two had been able to escape the explosion of the TechX complex, Dr. X might very well have, too.
Specifically, it should have occurred to him before he was standing in the middle of a gigantic death maze being stared down by Granger and hundreds of his heavily armed, maniacal creations.
But it hadn’t occurred to him. The realization of this miscalculation smacked into Fisher with the force of a manatee on a tire swing.
Dr. X’s eyes swept back and forth across his victims.
“Welcome to my new show!” he trumpeted gleefully, opening his arms. He turned to Fisher and narrowed his eyes. “When you destroyed my beautiful TechX compound, I admit I was distraught. Fortunately, I had use of a backup laboratory hidden beneath Los Angeles, full of hundreds of my spectacular creations. And when I heard that Sci-Fi: Survivor’s producer had died suddenly, tragically, and inexplicably”—Dr. X coughed—“I conveniently volunteered to step in as his replacement.”
“Mr. Gr-Granger?” Amanda stuttered out. Her mouth was hanging open.
“You—you know him?” squeaked Kevin Keels.
“Harry?” Dr. Devilish and GG McGee said simultaneously.
“You know him, too?” Keels said, eyes widening.
“Oh, I know him,” Dr. Devilish said grimly. “I’ve known him my whole life.” He gulped. “He’s my big brother.”
“Your brother?” Fisher, Amanda, and Kevin echoed together.
“We weren’t what you’d call a close family,” Dr. X said, letting his arms drop to his sides. “Do you remember, Fisher, when I told you about my early life? How I was tormented and pushed around and beaten up in school? My little brother, Martin, was already bigger than me by then. And you know what he did while those kids were tossing me around like a hacky sack? He stood there and watched. Because he was afraid that if somebody hit him in the face, it would ruin his perfectly chiseled good looks.” He directed a black stare at Dr. Devilish. “He just stood there and watched, and then scooped me up when it was over and carried me home so that I could help him with his homework. And she was there, too,” he said, jabbing a black-gloved finger in McGee’s direction, “egging them on!”
McGee gasped as though Granger had reached out and socked her in the stomach.
Slowly, Fisher began to understand. Dr. X had brought him here to settle a personal grudge. Why not settle all of his grudges at once? To say that the situation did not look good would probably win the award for biggest understatement ever. And Fisher still had no idea what had happened to Two.
“Harry, please,” McGee said, clasping her hands together. “I was a kid. I was just teasing you. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Can anyone tell me what’s going on?” blurted Keels. He looked like he was about to cry. Dr. X turned to look at him, and Kevin shrank backwar
d.
“GG was a friend of mine,” said Dr. Devilish. “Neither one of us has seen Harry in years—thankfully. He barely kept in touch after he left for Palo Alto to become a science teacher.”
“Our science teacher,” Fisher put in. “Also a terrifying masked monster with his own research fortress.”
Amanda turned to Fisher. Her mouth was still hanging open.
Fisher added, by way of explanation, “That part of his identity wasn’t exactly public knowledge.”
“If all of you are up to speed,” Dr. X said, tapping his foot, “I do have better things to get to, so if you don’t mind I’ll just skip to the part where I kill you. I am who I am today because of people like you,” he said, pointing dramatically at his brother and McGee, “and my greatest attempt at taking over the world was thwarted by you!” he went on, pointing with equal flourish at Fisher. “As for you,” he said, turning to Amanda, “I’m sorry that you decided to accompany Mr. Bas here, but now that you’ve seen and heard all this, I’m afraid I’ll have to get rid of you as well. That’s what happens when you associate with people like him.”
“But, but, what about me?” Keels spluttered. “What have I ever done to you?”
“Nothing specifically,” Dr. X said with a shrug. “But I find your music insipid, extremely unintelligent, lacking any kind of artistic merit, and very, very annoying. And I take that very personally. So as long as I’m rounding up people for elimination, I figured I’d throw you into the mix.” Keels started shivering with feverish intensity. “By the way, the concealed cameras have been rolling ever since the lights came up. Sci-Fi: Survivor is going to have the most-watched series premiere of all time, and with the cash I rake in I plan on rebuilding my empire.” Dr. X clapped his hands delightedly. “This is the part in which I, the sinister-looking but charismatic show host, explain to you how the final challenge works, so try to look surprised and a little nervous. Perfect! You’re all handling that last part splendidly.”