The Magic Factory

by Morgan Rice

  Oliver would need days to decipher it. But it would only be hours before the plane reached Germany. He felt overwhelmed and suddenly desperately alone. If only he had the support of his friends, the wisdom of Armando, and the experience of Professor Amethyst and the other teachers at the School for Seers.

  But no sooner had he thought it, than Oliver realized that he did. All those people had given something to him over the time he’d known them; their encouragement, their knowledge, their experience. This was a quest designed for him. In him, all that information converged. Other than Lucas, he was the only Seer who’d been trained by Armando Illstrom. The person most able to dismantle this bomb was Oliver himself. That was why the universe had called to him in the first place.

  Buoyed by the revelation, Oliver got to work, focusing on the task at hand. He may not have days at his disposal, but there was still a chance he’d be able to do enough with the hours ahead of him to stop the bomb from working. He became engrossed, just as he had done when making the periscope, when creating the invisibility coat. He drew on every scrap of knowledge he had about inventions, losing himself in theory and physics, focusing his entire mind on dismantling the weapon.

  He lost track of everything around him, his mind homing in on this one thing.

  *

  Suddenly, Oliver felt the engines change beneath him. They were losing speed. He knew what that meant. The plane was preparing to begin its descent.

  He blinked with surprise and checked his timetable. Indeed, several hours had passed. In fact, his timetable was flashing red now fully, warning him he was out of bounds and off course. That meant Esther’s opening would now be closed and his chance of ever returning to the school completely vanquished. He’d been so engrossed with the bomb that he’d lost track not just of time but of his own personal sacrifice; the school. He’d become so focused that every other distraction had quit his mind. And yet the bomb was still very much intact, still ready to enact its destruction on the world. Panic took hold of him.

  Oliver felt the plane’s angle change. He grasped out for any kind of handhold, but failed to find anything. He slid, this time toward the front of the truck, to the part behind the driver’s cabby. He hit the wall hard and curled up, gritting his teeth, his stomach in knots. The pressure changed rapidly, making his ears pop painfully. The descent was terrifyingly fast, the pilot pushing the plane into a descent just as rapid as its ascension had been.

  Then there was a horrible jolting sensation as the plane touched its wheels to the ground.

  They’d landed. They’d touched down in Germany.

  Oliver was tossed from side to side as the plane careened down the runway. As he bounced around in the back of the truck, teeth rattling, Oliver heard the plane’s engines begin to slow. Beneath him, he felt the deceleration. Soon they’d halt entirely.

  Things were getting desperate now. He had to do something. Had to think of something. But everything was happening so fast he couldn’t even begin to formulate a plan.

  The plane became slower and slower until suddenly it stopped. Oliver heard the engines whine as they were switched off and began to slow. Then scraping noises told him the cargo doors were being opened. He heard footsteps approaching, the scrape of a key in a lock and then the slam of the truck door being closed. The driver of the truck was back.

  The engine suddenly rumbled beneath him and revved. Then with some jerking and juddering, daylight started to stream in through the window. They were outside.

  Oliver leapt up and looked out the back. The sight that confronted him sent icicles down his spine.

  1940s Germany was filled with swastikas.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  Oliver gasped at the sight through the window. On every gray building hung a flag with a swastika. On every road sign, on every car window. It was like a jubilee, but instead of colorful bunting there were flags with the hateful symbol upon them. Oliver swallowed, anguished by the sight of them, by the sea of red and black.

  The streets were more or less empty, with just a few passing cars and other military trucks. Oliver watched as they drove through a checkpoint manned by the German army and past a truck at the side of the road with soldiers standing beside it, guns at the ready. He felt sick at the sight of it all.

  He tore his gaze from the window, turning back to the bomb. He would have to make a decision, take a risk. If he chose the wrong wire the bomb would explode and the world would end. But if he did nothing, Hitler would detonate the bomb and the world would end anyway.

  Oliver tried to approach the bomb, but the truck was jostling him too much. He was flung sideways as the truck made a sharp left turn, falling to his knees painfully. No sooner had he drawn himself to his feet than another sharp turn flung him to the floor again. Beneath him, speed bumps made him bounce up and crash back down. His teeth crunched together, over and over, as the truck careened over them.

  Then suddenly they stopped. Oliver hauled himself to standing and hurried to the window. They’d reached an imposing-looking gray building, surrounded by barbed wire. Oliver realized with dread that this could be none other than Hitler’s headquarters.

  The truck began to move again, passing them through the checkpoint. Guard towers cast dark shadows over everything. Oliver gazed up at them, trembling at the sight of the heavily armed soldiers patrolling back and forth upon them.

  Then the truck shuddered to a final stop, the sound of its engine cutting out. It was too late. They’d arrived. Time was up and Oliver hadn’t had a chance to pull a wire. He hurried to hide behind the crate, some instinct of self-preservation forcing him to flee rather than be caught.

  He heard the sound of scraping metal as the back doors of the truck were opened from the outside. He peeped out from his hiding place and saw, with terror, a very familiar face. A face known and feared by every human on the planet. Hitler.

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  Oliver’s breath stopped in his lungs. He couldn’t quite believe he was looking at Hitler himself, at the most evil human who’d ever lived. He watched on, frozen with shock, as the terrifying Nazi leader looked into the truck.

  Hitler did not seem to notice the strewn pieces of wooden planks. His dark gaze was too fixated on the bomb to realize.

  He examined it, his beady eyes scanning what was before him. Oliver could see the sheer delight flashing behind his eyes at the sight of the advanced future technology, of Lucas’s creation.

  Hitler seemed thrilled by what was in front of him. He spoke in excited, rapid German to someone out of Oliver’s eyeline. Then he marched off.

  Suddenly, Oliver had an opportunity. Hitler would soon be back to collect his weapon. But in the seconds suddenly available to him, Oliver had to do something. It was now or never. He had to take the risk. Make the choice.

  But then, as if planted into his mind by the universe itself, Oliver suddenly realized what he had to do to dismantle the bomb. He’d been going about it all wrong, like a bomb disposal expert rather than a Seer. He didn’t need to cut a wire to stop the bomb; he needed to worm inside of it with his mind and use his atomic specialism to rearrange the very atoms within it. Like the objects in Armando’s office, he had to turn the atoms from one state to another. And then he had to hold them there.

  Oliver unfocused his eyes and relaxed his brain, inviting in the now familiar sensations needed to summon his powers. This time, they came to him rapidly, easily, far more quickly than ever before, as if fueled by his fear. They flooded his mind with their blinding strength, making his heart pound from the force.

  He visualized the bomb in minuscule detail, complete precision, not just every single wire or bolt or metal plating, but every single atom. He could see it all, in crystal-clear, perfect precision, from the sonar shield Lucas had surrounding it to the very chemicals deep inside it that would cause the blast.

  Oliver immediately visualized what he needed—the dangerous, volatile chemicals inside turning into water—then he pushed out with
his mind. Immediately he felt resistance as his own Seer power counteracted with Lucas’s shield. But he could sense it was working, almost as if he could somehow feel the atoms inside reconfiguring themselves in line with his commands.

  Suddenly, he heard footsteps. His time was up. They’d come back for the bomb. He had to hold on to his visualization. Which meant he couldn’t get caught. He had to hide himself. He ducked behind a stack of smaller wooden boxes.

  Hitler was back, several soldiers beside him.

  He watched as the bomb was unloaded from the back of the truck. From his hiding place, Oliver watched on as the bomb was set up, mounted onto the rocket launcher that would propel it into the atmosphere. There were many Nazi soldiers standing around, each looking as menacing as the next. The tension was almost too much to bear. It was compounded by the strain of holding onto the changed atoms within the bomb.

  He watched them mount the weapon onto a vertical gurney, its pointed tip directed into the sky. It was ready for launch.

  A figure approached. His stance formidable, his aura bone-chilling. The desire to press the button was written all over his face. Now was his moment of glory.

  With an evil grin, Hitler reached for the big red button.

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  Oliver didn’t want to watch but he couldn’t look away. He had to focus on his visualization. He couldn’t waver. Losing concentration for even a millisecond would have catastrophic consequences.

  He held his breath. He tensed every muscle. He focused with every semblance of strength he had available to him. He had to keep the bomb from detonating.

  Hitler held his palm over the large red button, hovering there. For a brief second, Oliver wondered whether he’d changed his mind, whether the enormity of his actions had suddenly struck him. But then he realized that Hitler was actually drawing out the moment, toying with it. It was as if he wanted to bathe in the pure power this moment gave him. He was playing God and he was reveling in the ultimate power this weapon gave him.

  Oliver could see, clearly and plainly, what Professor Amethyst had been telling him about evil, about the desire for power that consumed people. Oliver resolved in that moment that if he walked away from this alive he would never, ever allow himself to become corrupted by his Seer powers. He would not become Lucas. Despite the cobalt within him, he would fight the lure of the dark side for the rest of his days.

  And he would not fail now. He held his breath and fixed the image in his mind.

  Hitler flexed his fingers over the button. Around him, his soldiers’ eyes were wide with adrenaline, with anticipation. Then, in one sudden, violent motion, Hitler slammed his palm down onto the button.

  The whole world seemed to pause. Time stood still. Oliver felt a horrible tug in his mind, a headache like lightning bolts striking his brain. The atoms of the bomb were fighting against his reality, pummeling against his mind like the fists of a bully. The command of his mind was in direct opposition to the command of the button Hitler had pushed, to the laws of physics that the design of the bomb relied on. The strain was like nothing Oliver had ever felt.

  But he took the blows, over and over as Hitler slammed his palm against the button again and again, his face growing redder with each futile attempt to detonate it.

  Oliver could feel his powers draining from each blow. It was sapping his strength. He didn’t know if he could hold on any longer. But Hitler was still trying to detonate the bomb, his palm now turned into a fist that he pummeled against the button.

  Oliver felt the last semblance of power ebb from him. He couldn’t hold on any longer. But just at that moment, Hitler stepped back.

  He’d given up!

  He turned to the sky and roared his anger.

  Oliver released the chains in his mind. With a surge of relief, he let his tension go, exhaling the breath he’d been holding, relaxing the muscles he’d been straining. For the first time, he became aware of the pain in his jaw from his clenched teeth, and the sweat pouring down his face and back. His whole body felt weak, like he’d accidentally transformed himself into jelly.

  There was nothing left in him. No powers. They’d been drained entirely. Oliver staggered, barely able to remain upright. He clutched the trash cans before him to steady himself. He’d prevented the bomb from blowing, for now, but with his powers so severely weakened there’d be no chance of him holding its atoms again. If Hitler turned back and pressed the button one more time, there’d be nothing Oliver could do to stop it.

  He watched on, tense, willing Hitler to walk away. Suddenly, the man turned back. Oliver’s heart leapt. Hitler eyed the red button. Oliver prayed he would not press it one last time. He felt every muscle in his body clench as Hitler took a slow step closer to the bomb. Then another.

  Finally, Hitler stopped. He stood right beside the bomb, by the big red detonator button. Then he turned to his soldiers, barked an order in German, and strode away.

  He’d given up.

  Reality began to sink in. Oliver had really done it. He’d stopped Lucas’s evil plan from coming to fruition. He felt his heart soar.

  But the danger was not over yet. Oliver may have saved the world, but now he had to save himself. He was a sitting duck here. It would only be a matter of moments before he was found. He had to get away.

  Hitler’s soldiers were talking in hurried German to one another. They seemed very panicked and very confused as they watched their furious leader growing more incensed. He looked like a man on the brink of insanity, spittle flying from his lips as he screamed commands at them.

  There was one word Oliver could understand.

  “Sabotage!”

  The soldiers ran in all directions, searching their locale, seeking out hiding spots. Then someone pointed at the truck in which Oliver was hiding.

  Panicking, Oliver cowered back, a lump forming in his throat. He had to do something.

  He quickly retreated into his mind, attempting to summon his powers. But all he felt was a fizz. He couldn’t access them at all. They’d run dry.

  Without his powers, there was only other option. He had to run.

  He leapt up from his hiding space and barreled forward. But it was useless. His legs could barely hold him upright. He fell, sprawling against the hard asphalt.

  The soldiers spotted him immediately. Within seconds he was surrounded. Terrifying faces looked down at him, glaring their hatred. Amongst them was the face Oliver feared the most. Hitler.

  He looked down on Oliver with an expression of contempt like none he had ever felt before. Not from Edmund. Or Chris. Not even from Lucas. They were nothing compared to the look of pure hatred in Hitler’s eyes. It was as if Hitler knew he was to blame.

  Then Hitler muttered a word that confirmed Oliver’s suspicions.

  “Seer.”

  Hitler knew. And, Oliver realized with a shudder, he’d had worked out that he was the one who’d foiled him.

  Hitler barked something in German at Oliver. Oliver didn’t understand his words but the coldness in his tone was unmistakable. Hitler had just ordered his death.

  This was it for him, Oliver knew. He would be killed. His life was over. His only solace was that he’d saved the world. His sacrifice was worth that. Now he would die a noble death. He braced himself for the inevitable, for the blow that would extinguish his life.

  It did not come.

  Suddenly, from above, the roaring sound of an airplane’s engine ripped across the sky. Hitler tore his eyes from Oliver and looked up, just as the soldiers around him were doing. His expression was wild, deranged.

  Oliver scanned the darkened sky, searching for the source of the enormous noise. He was expecting to see German planes approaching but instead he saw something else entirely.

  Cutting through the gray sky was a very small plane unlike anything Oliver had ever seen before. It moved faster than any plane he knew of, gliding effortlessly through the sky. It was a strange metallic white color, and the translucent window a
t the front looked like it was made from a film of plastic, like it was some kind of high-tech shield. The technology of the plane could only come from the future, Oliver suddenly realized.

  Oliver’s first dreadful thought was of Lucas. Had the old man designed some kind of aircraft and come back to this point to rewrite the history Oliver had already changed? To put everything back to how he wanted it to be?

  But no, Oliver realized. The plane did not belong to a foe, but a friend. Because there, on the tail, was a design that Oliver was very familiar with: a hoop with three evenly spaced eyes. The symbol of the School for Seers. Seeing it here, in 1940s Germany, amongst the swastikas, seemed incredibly incongruous. It was almost as if he’d conjured it with his mind.

  Then Oliver saw something that shocked him to the core. As he looked through the strange cockpit window he discovered that the plane was being flown by none other than Professor Amethyst!

  Hitler screamed something in German. Instantly, Oliver heard the sound of soldiers’ boots. He turned his gaze from the sky to the commotion ahead of him, watching on with terror as the soldiers ran for their weapons. They got into a huddled formation, pointing their guns at the sky, and began to fire at the plane.

  “NO!” Oliver screamed.

  The noise was like nothing else. A thousand cracks, each one like a splinter through his eardrums. The gunfire was so loud he could feel it in his bones. There was nothing Oliver could do but cower and pray he wasn’t hit in the crossfire. Pray that Professor Amethyst’s plane withstood the bullets. Pray that he would make it out of this alive.