by Laura Martin
“That’s brilliant,” I said.
“Brilliant is an understatement,” Regan said, leaning forward to inspect one of the projectors. She put her hand in front of the lens and suddenly the rock projection had a large hole.
“Stop that,” said a security officer, snatching her hand so that the projection returned to normal.
“Sorry,” Regan muttered.
“This facility is testing out some new innovations in security,” Callaway explained as he walked over to the steel door and pressed his hand against a large black panel to the right of it. “The Academy has its wall and security detail, but it is still too conspicuous. Despite the no-fly zone and the water patrol to make sure no unsuspecting boater stumbles upon it, some still have. This way, a boater could go right past the island and have no idea we were even here.” The panel lit up green around his palm and the door slid open, revealing a large, well-lit walkway.
“The L and C program is located inside the mountain,” Regan said. “That’s amazing.”
“It took about ten years to build,” Callaway said, leading the way down the hallway. “Luckily this particular mountain had a fairly extensive cave system already in place, so we just expanded on it. The Lewis and Clark program is small; you two will make the fourth partner group admitted into the program. Sam and Serina, our original partner pair, will pop in every now and then to assist with your training as well. We hope to grow the program a bit more each year, but finding compatible partners is proving to be harder than we expected.”
It was then that I noticed our security transfer hadn’t followed us. Callaway noticed my look and waved a hand flippantly. “Don’t worry about security, Elliot. They’ve headed back to the Academy. We don’t need them once we are inside the mountain.”
We rounded a corner, and the corridor opened up into a gigantic circular room the size of the auditorium at the Academy. Glancing up, I saw that the domed ceiling was chiseled right out of the rock of the mountain.
The room was completely open without a partition or a dividing wall in sight and set up like a pie, with each slice of the circle housing something different. I guess if there were only six of us training here, walls were kind of pointless. Directly in front of us was what looked like a smaller version of Professor Watt’s gym, complete with a training mat. To the right of that was a classroom with only ten desks and a floor-to-ceiling projection screen on the wall. My eyes kept tracking around the room, taking in a small library, a simulation setup, lounge area, and cafeteria. It was like they’d taken the sprawling complex of the Academy and shrunk it. I was so busy looking at everything that I almost didn’t notice that there were other people in the room until Regan elbowed me hard in the ribs.
“Stop gaping like an idiot and look alive,” she whispered as Callaway excitedly motioned a small group of kids over from where they’d been sitting around a table eating breakfast. Realizing that Regan’s gaping like an idiot description was 100 percent accurate, I shut my mouth with an audible click.
“Good morning, cadets!” Callaway said. “It’s time to welcome our newest team to the program.” I wondered if Callaway was always this cheerful. I hoped not.
“This is Cadet Regan Fitz and Cadet Elliot Mason, our youngest recruits to the program to date,” Callaway said, and Regan and I both nodded greetings. Callaway motioned forward two boys who I was pretty sure were the year above us. I’d seen them on occasion in the dining hall, and we’d bumped into one another at the library, I was almost certain. The taller of the two had inky black hair and skin a shade or two darker than my own. The other boy was much shorter, with pale, almost translucent-looking skin and hair so blond it might have been considered white.
“This is Corban and Blake,” Callaway said, and the boys nodded to each of us. “These two scored high in compatibility during a sim test, just like the two of you. And,” he said, turning to the other pair, “this is Tess and Eliana. These two were tested for compatibility because they were first cousins.” The girls stepped forward, smiles on their faces. Both of them had wavy red hair that was pulled back into a ponytail, but their similarities stopped there. Tess was heavier set, with broad shoulders and bright green eyes, where her cousin Eliana was taller by a good three inches, her face a study of angles that accentuated hazel eyes. They had to be sixth years, I thought, trying to place them and feeling a tug of embarrassment when I couldn’t. Considering how small the class sizes were at the Academy, I should know everyone. But, to be honest, learning everyone’s names seemed like a waste of time when I could be learning about the nitty-gritty details of George Washington’s role as our nation’s first spymaster.
“You will have an opportunity to meet Sam and Serina a little later,” Callaway said with a grin at all of us, as though we’d all just performed some sort of impressive trick. I shifted nervously as I took in the four faces staring back at us with a friendly, expectant look I wasn’t quite sure what to do with.
Suddenly I felt Regan’s sharp elbow digging into my ribs for a second time, and I glanced over to see her smiling cheerfully back our new classmates. I forced what I hoped was a friendly smile onto my own face, but it felt stiff and awkward so I stopped.
“And this,” Callaway said, motioning to the large room, “is where all of our training takes place.” He snapped his fingers and two men wearing the Academy staff uniform came forward to take our bags. They disappeared with them down the far corridor and Callaway clapped his hands. “Now we should begin our first simulation of the day. We are already running a bit behind because of our newest recruits. So, no time to waste!”
I jumped in surprise. I’m not sure what I’d expected, but I hadn’t thought we’d start training, let alone a simulation, within the first five minutes of walking into the place. I’d obviously thought wrong.
“But we haven’t prepped for a simulation,” I said just loud enough so Regan could hear me.
“That doesn’t seem to matter,” she said as Callaway ushered us over to the part of the room that had ten simulation chairs set up. Unlike the chairs at the Academy, which were always in a room all by themselves, these chairs were set up in pairs with one joint recap screen directly in front of the set. Each partner group quickly sat down, buckled themselves in, and began attaching their probes to their foreheads, arms, and legs. Not wanting to be left behind, I hurried forward and jumped into the open set of chairs on the far right. I was halfway through attaching my probes when I realized that Regan had jumped into one of the chairs in the empty set on the left. The other kids smiled, some even laughing outright when they noticed, and I felt a hot wave of embarrassment wash over me for the second time in five minutes. The giggles alerted Regan, and she looked up in surprise. Spotting me across the way, she groaned.
“Get over here,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I’m practically done getting set up,” I said. “You come over here.” Instead of arguing back, Regan straight-up ignored me and continued attaching her simulation probes. I sat in my chair for another second, fuming, before deciding that it wasn’t worth the battle on our first day here.
“Way to make us look like morons,” I muttered under my breath as I took the empty seat next to hers.
“Not my fault you got in the wrong chair,” Regan said. Before I could respond, Callaway was standing in front of the simulation chairs.
“Ready?” he asked, and I shot my hand into the air.
“Yes, Elliot?” he said, and I almost jumped at the use of my first name. At the Academy I was always Cadet Mason. Here I was Elliot. It was going to take some getting used to.
Noticing my expression, Callaway flashed what I was beginning to think of as his signature smile. “We do things a little differently here. Our staff and student group in the mountain is so small that the formality of the Academy felt out of place, so we have all relaxed a bit.”
“Nice,” Regan said, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I never rolled my eyes in front of professors. I was respe
ctful and followed the rules and protocols to a fault. It was part of my identity, and I felt an uncomfortable tug at Callaway’s words.
“Cadet Fitz and I haven’t had time to study for this simulation,” I said, shoving the feeling aside. The other kids laughed like I’d told some kind of a joke, and I felt my face burn red.
“No one has prepared for this simulation,” Callaway said. “The partner teams never prepare specifically for simulations. This is the difference in our training from the normal Academy. At the Academy you are given weeks and months of study of a particular historical event before being sent into a simulation. Here we do a general study on all of history, and you will never know which one you are being tested on. That is the magic and the importance of this specialized program. We foresee you as the Glitchers who will be sent in, in case of an emergency, to salvage a Glitch gone wrong, or to save a historical event from an unforeseen sabotage by Mayhem. Sam and Serina have excelled at this far beyond our expectations. Our hope is that you will develop the skills to think on your feet.”
My face must have shown my utter shock at this pronouncement because Callaway chuckled. “Don’t look so alarmed.”
“So, it’s kind of like a level test?” Regan said.
“Exactly,” Callaway said. “You’ll get the hang of it soon enough. Ready, everyone?” he called. The other two partner groups held up simultaneous thumbs-up. Regan was faster than me on the draw and her elbow cracked me in the head on the way up.
“This is so cool,” she whispered as Callaway turned his back to us to work on the huge bank of simulation equipment. “We don’t have to study!”
“He didn’t say that. He just said we wouldn’t have time before the simulation to do it,” I whispered back, noting that the other partner groups were murmuring hurriedly to their partners as well. I strained my ears to see what they were talking about, but the low hum of the surrounding equipment drowned it all out. I glanced back at Regan to discover her grinning like an idiot. “And this is not exciting,” I said. “This is terrifying.”
Regan rolled her eyes. “The king of preparation can’t prepare. I bet that is terrifying for you. Loosen up.”
I gritted my teeth and looked straight ahead at the ominously black recap screen that would show us what an absolute disaster this was going to be in a few short minutes, because there was no way this was going to go well. Regan and I were not cut out to be a team. I was really picking up steam in this freak-out, imagining all the things that could go wrong if I didn’t know every detail about the historical event, when Callaway held up his hand to begin the countdown.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Everything went black and our first official partner mission had begun.
Chapter Eighteen
Regan
I opened my eyes to a war. At least, I was pretty sure this was a war. The sound of gunfire was deafening, and the air was so thick with a dirty gray smoke that I couldn’t see more than a few feet in any direction. The sharp smell of gunpowder immediately made my lungs tighten. What was going on? This was not protocol. We should have appeared somewhere off to the side of this battle, not in its very heart.
Suddenly someone grabbed my arm and yanked me to the ground so hard I felt my shoulder pop painfully in protest. Before I could put together what was happening, a hand was on the back of my head, shoving my face directly into the soupy mud just as something exploded behind us. I’d forgotten about Elliot.
I yanked my head out of the mud and wiped furiously at my face as I spat out the mucky mouthful I’d almost inhaled. When I could finally look over at Elliot, I discovered that he was just as mud spattered as me, although his face was a whole lot cleaner.
“Where are we?” I yelled over the thunder of gunfire.
“How in the world would I know that?” he called back. He had a point. Another explosion went off, and I hurriedly surveyed our surroundings for somewhere safe to regroup. A little behind us and to the left was a thick line of trees, and I grabbed Elliot by the back of his shirt and hauled him toward them. They were farther away than they looked, though, and we were both huffing and puffing hard when we finally made it.
I let go of Elliot, who I’d held on to more for my own benefit than for his, and put my hands on my knees so I could hack up a mud-caked lung.
Elliot recovered faster than me and walked back to the edge of the trees to peer out at the chaos. I glanced down at myself and noted that I was wearing the same dark blue-gray jacket and coat as Elliot, although with the amount of mud we were covered in it was kind of hard to tell.
“American Revolution?” I guessed, trying to get a look at the back of the jacket.
“No,” Elliot said shortly, and I bent over to look at the boots I had on.
“Obviously not Pearl Harbor,” I said.
Elliot snorted and turned back to me. “Does this look like Hawaii to you?”
“I said obviously not,” I said. “Is it World War One?” He ignored me, his dark eyes taking in the chaos that was swirling out in the open. “World War Two?” I said.
“Civil War,” he said, turning back to me. “We’re Union soldiers.”
I peered over his shoulder at the battle that was spread across fields and hills as far as my eyes could see. Now that I knew what I was looking at, it didn’t take long to notice that the gray uniforms seemed to far outnumber the blue. “Then why does it look like we’re losing?”
“Because we are,” Elliot said, jerking his finger behind him. “I’d bet anything that the town down there is Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. This is the battle that decides who wins the Civil War. If the Confederates take the high ground”—he pointed to the hill and its makeshift stone wall—“then they win the war.”
“You’re really smart,” I said, and it wasn’t a question or an insult. It was just a fact.
“Yes,” Elliot said simply. “But how in the world are we supposed to spot a Butterfly in this mess?”
I bit my lip as I looked at the makeshift rock wall the Union soldiers had erected at the top of the hill. They huddled behind it, every now and then standing to battle back a rush of Confederates as they charged up the hill at them.
“So a Butterfly,” I said, thinking out loud, “might be here to make sure they win?”
“That’s my guess,” Elliot said. “Someone is going to try to help the Confederates take the hill.”
“Well, we aren’t going to stop them hiding here,” I said. “Come on.”
“What do you mean, come on?” Elliot asked, hurrying after me as I wove through the trees, all the time angling so we’d be behind that stone wall when we made it to the top of the hill.
“Keep up,” I said, breaking into a run.
“But we don’t have a plan,” Elliot yelled.
“We do have a plan,” I called back. “It’s called winging it.” I heard Elliot mutter something rude about people who didn’t make plans, and I smiled despite the chaos going on around us. We made it to the top of the hill, stopped only momentarily by two Union guards stationed in the trees to prevent anyone sneaking up from behind. Thankfully our mud-covered uniforms were identification enough, and we were waved through just as the cry went out that a third charge was coming up the hill.
“Get down,” Elliot said, and we dived behind the nearest wall, bullets zinging overhead. The soldiers around us all stood up to confront the Confederates as they charged up the hill. I glanced to my right and left at the exhausted soldiers, most of whom were wounded and bleeding as they rose to fend off their enemies. These men didn’t look like they could hold off a charge of bunnies, let alone a group of rampaging soldiers. I wished that we could help them, that I could stand up and fight shoulder to shoulder with the men who stood for freedom, but, of course, I couldn’t.
Elliot must have been thinking the same thing, because I saw his hands ball into fists as he watched men fall around us. Gritting my teeth,
I willed myself to focus. I was here for one thing, and one thing only. I began looking from face to face, skipping over the ones that were obviously wounded beyond hope. Those men were not my Butterfly. Grabbing Elliot’s hand, I began a painstakingly slow creep down the line of soldiers. We crawled through dirt and blood and who knew what else, each of us taking care not to get in anyone’s way. I didn’t know a lot about the Battle of Gettysburg, but I did know that accidentally getting a soldier killed who was supposed to survive or saving a soldier who wasn’t supposed to be saved could alter the future irreparably. We made our way down the battle line, but it was slow going, and at times the gunfire was so loud and so constant it felt like my brain was going to implode.
“Here comes the fourth charge,” someone called, and what was left of the men behind the wall staggered to their feet.
“They won’t withstand a fourth charge,” I said, and I was almost right. The Union soldiers were outnumbered, and within moments the Confederates were close enough that the men gave up on their guns and clubbed at one another with bloody fists and bayonets. It was impossible to stay out of the fray, and I gasped as someone’s foot connected hard with my ribs. Elliot yanked me sideways before I could accidentally trip anyone, and we huddled next to what was left of the stone wall as things went from bad to worse. I screamed as one of the men took a gunshot directly to his stomach and fell backward. He lay in front of us for a moment, and I felt my own stomach roll. But before I could throw up, the man blinked and rolled over; glancing down, he removed a smashed bullet from the front of his metal belt buckle, discarded it, and quickly rejoined the fight.
“That’s unbelievable,” I said, turning to see Elliot’s reaction, but instead of looking amazed, his eyes were narrowed as he watched the man throw a punch. I wanted to ask Elliot why he was so worried about the miracle man, but we had to jump apart a second later to avoid getting trampled.
The fourth charge went on for what felt like forever, and it was impossible to tell who was winning. I thought for a second that this was it, that the Confederates had finally succeeded when they retreated back down the hill. As the Union soldiers attempted to regroup, I ventured up to my knees to peer over the wall and watched as Confederate reinforcements arrived.