by Jess Keating
The silence in the room grew heavy, and the low drone of buzzing flies seemed to intensify. For all the craziness our adventures entailed, it was easy to forget we worked for a secret agency whose job it was to fight very dangerous people. We’d been lucky so far, but sometimes, people got hurt.
Or worse.
Martha pulled a small folder from her bag and set it on the table. “This is what Victor was trying to protect: plans for one of the most dangerous viruses known to man. When infected, humans become imbued with extraordinary strength and reflexes.”
Bert perked up. “Like mutants?” He shifted in excitement. “Super humans?”
“Don’t get too excited, Mr. Einstein,” Martha said. “The incredible abilities are a by-product of the virus, not the intention.” She tapped her phone for a moment and tipped the screen toward us. “The effects we’re talking about are violent and unpredictable.” She pressed play on the video.
A grainy image of a man in what looked to be a sterile laboratory environment paced angrily across the screen. He shook his fists aggressively, as though he couldn’t contain his movements, while his head and neck twitched awkwardly. It was almost like he was fighting for control of his own body.
“Oh no,” Mary whispered, recoiling at the moving images.
The man on the screen raised his fists toward the ceiling, then turned into a flash—a literal flash—across the room, bolting from one side to the next.
It was a video I wouldn’t have believed—or couldn’t have believed—if I didn’t know Martha and how seriously she took her job. If I hadn’t already seen impossible things with my own eyes.
It was a video of a man becoming a monster.
“Whoa!” Charlie said, leaning closer. “Is this real?!” The man had started punching the wall, crumbling the concrete to bits under his fists. Shards of broken glass from the laboratory window didn’t faze him as he tore through the room like a hurricane, wrenching through the glass with his bare, bleeding hands.
“Ackkk! This is awful!” Mary cringed, covering her eyes at the mess and gore.
As disturbing as it was, I couldn’t look away from the screen. “It reminds me of Dad’s ring,” I muttered.
The rest of the group nodded in agreement. A few months earlier, we’d tracked down a ring that my own father had invented that allowed its user to turn into any kind of creature using cellular realignment.
It sounds cool, right? The ability to become anything you want? But the reality is terrifying. There are some things that human beings should never be able to do.
Grace frowned. “So Victor created a virus that turns people into superhuman mutants …”
“It changes human biology to create spontaneous physiological accelerated reactionary kinesthetics.”
“S.P.A.R.K.,” Mary whispered. The color drained quickly from her sweaty cheeks.
“Yes,” Martha agreed. “As Mary’s so cleverly noted, we’re calling it the Spark virus. Victor has generated it in the form of a serum that can be either injected into one’s bloodstream or spread via airborne pathogens.”
Charlie let out a low whistle. “That sounds … dangerous.”
Bert leaned forward, stopping the footage on the screen and staring closer. “So when you found out about it, Victor got upset, tracked down a bunch of Academy agents, and … killed them,” he clarified. “And now you can’t send more of your usual agents after him because he knows all their identities.”
“I’m afraid so.” Martha swallowed a gulp from her water bottle and wiped her damp forehead. “Only your parents and a handful of high-ranking government officials know about Genius Academy, and that information is guarded by the president herself. There is no way that Victor knows anything about you. Which is why you’re the only ones he won’t see coming.”
I was beginning to see her plan.
“So what do you need us to do?” Grace asked.
“We’ve learned that he’s planning to visit the Tower of London.”
Charlie perked up. “Do we get to go?” A small glimmer of excitement grew behind her eyes.
“Yes. You’ll go to England and find him,” Martha said. “Victor’s movements have been erratic, and without our top agents able to work on the investigation, he’s been far too easy to lose. He pops up in one country, then reappears days later in another. In order to figure out what he’s planning to do with his virus, I need you to tag him.”
Mo made a face. “Tag him with what? A tracker? Won’t that be easy for him to find?”
“Our research team has been working on an aerosol tracking system,” she said, her cheeks lifting in a smile. “Using colorless, odorless nanoparticle technology. Basically, if you spray him, he’ll glow when viewed through our global surveillance tracking system.”
“Spray paint?” I repeated. “You want us to tag him with magic paint?”
Martha sniffed. “I assure you, it’s not magic. Just science.”
She was right. The two weren’t that far apart when you got right down to it.
“Right,” I said. “So we go to London, find this Victor guy at the Tower, and then spray-paint him. That doesn’t seem so bad.”
Grace sat taller. She was ready to get moving. “Do we know what he looks like?”
“We have surveillance footage that might be helpful, but it isn’t terribly clear.”
I stroked Pickles’s fur anxiously as the others exchanged glances.
“What’s he going to be doing at the Tower of London?” Leo asked. “Does it have anything to do with the Spark virus?”
“I wish I knew,” Martha admitted. Her forehead creased with worry. “It could be a meeting with an associate or a potential customer for the virus, or even just a diversion—one more stop on a wild-goose chase to distract us from his real agenda.”
“Oh, that’s great!” Bert said. He took off his glasses and used the hem of his shirt to wipe them clean before shoving them back onto his face. “We’re expected to follow this mystery man without knowing a thing about what he even looks like. And if we do somehow figure it out, we’re supposed to spray-paint him so you guys can see what he does with this mutant-making virus of his?” He clasped his hands tightly together, turning his knuckles white.
Grace bit her lip to keep from laughing. “That’s kind of the job, dude.”
Bert let out a heavy sigh. “Just checking.”
Martha’s tone softened. “I recognize that this situation isn’t ideal. But there’s one more thing you should know before agreeing to this mission. As much as I’d like to protect you all, you must have all the information before you get involved.”
“What’s left? An anonymous mad scientist. A virus that makes people mutants. And a trip to London. What more do we need?” Charlie draped her arm over the back of Mary’s chair beside her.
“The Spark virus,” Martha said. She looked down at her phone for a moment, swiping through the images. Finally, she held it up to show us a video of what appeared to be round cells flickering and twitching under a microscope. “I told you that extraordinary strength was simply a side effect of the virus, not the goal. Watch what happens when a human comes into contact with it.”
Martha set the phone down, and we all leaned forward for a better view. Compared to the guy punching walls, this video wasn’t graphic. It was basically a bunch of normal human cells with some spiky-looking smaller cells circulating around them. But suddenly the spiky cells started jabbing the regular, healthy-looking cells.
“Oh, ew,” Grace said. “What are they doing?”
“That’s the virus,” Martha said. She paused the video. The healthy cells had changed from round and solid to withered and dark. She tapped the phone screen with a fingernail, pointing to one of the spiky virus cells. “This is the virus. This is what we’re facing if we don’t succeed.”
Bert’s face turned a shade of greenish gray. “So the real intention of the virus is to … kill people? That’s the goal?”
“Yes.�
�� Martha let the full truth settle over us. “The spark temporarily gives people superior strength. But once that strength fades—usually within a matter of a day—it begins to destroy the cells it previously enhanced. The Spark virus kills its hosts one hundred percent of the time if a proper antidote isn’t introduced.”
She glanced at her watch again before continuing. “If you don’t want to accept this mission, I will understand. Nobody is being forced here.”
An eerie silence surrounded us as we all exchanged glances. Even Pickles stayed quiet, like she knew the severity of what Martha was saying.
I won’t lie, a big part of me wanted to hop off my chair and make a run for it. My parents’ faces swam in front of me, eager to welcome me back to their wedding planning, going on with their lives like usual. I could have walked out of there and everything could have gone back to normal.
But then I realized: Without us, any hope of normal would be gone for everyone on the planet. If other agents couldn’t protect people, then we had to do it. Could I live with myself if this horrible virus was unleashed into the world? I didn’t think I could.
What choice was there?
“I don’t see any of us leaving, so …” Bert mused. He rubbed his hands together. “What’s a little biological warfare between friends, anyway?”
A small smile grew on Martha’s face.
“So it’s settled, then?” Charlie looked around expectantly, her ponytail swishing. “We’re going to London?!”
“There’s one more thing,” Grace said. Her gaze was fixed on Martha. “We’re going to need you to tell us why you keep looking at that watch of yours.”
Mary tilted her head, as though reading every line on Martha’s face, like she would the page of a book. “You’re not supposed to be telling us any of this, are you, Martha?”
Martha opened her mouth to answer, but a sharp crack outside the cabin sent us skittering from the table, arranging ourselves instinctively with our backs to the far wall.
Someone was coming for us.
“Martha!” Grace’s voice was a sharp whisper as her arms shot out to shield the rest of us. Leo and Mo shifted forward, their fingers flexed and ready for whatever faced us beyond the door.
“Who is it?!” Grace asked. “Who’s after us?”
Martha rolled her shoulders once before answering, shifting her neck to stretch it. “They’re not after you,” she said. “There was some … disagreement about whether to involve Genius Academy in this matter. Given that we’ve lost full-fledged agents, my colleagues didn’t believe you’d be up to the task. But we don’t have a choice here. They suspected I’d reach out to you for help. And now they’re coming to stop me.”
I jumped as a rustling sound in the bushes was followed by the nearby squawk of some sort of rain forest bird. Whatever was out there had scared the local wildlife.
“Tell us what to do,” I said to Martha. I positioned Pickles on my shoulder so she’d be ready for a quick getaway. “How do we get you away from here safely?”
“The back sounds clear so far,” Mo suggested.
Reflected light flashed on the surface of Bert’s glasses as he darted a look behind us. “We could—”
“No!” Martha interrupted. “You’re not to worry about my safety. I’m going to create a diversion, and when I do, your job is to get out of here in one piece. Finish the mission. No matter what anyone else says. I’ll meet you in London. Use our safe house there if you encounter any trouble.”
My legs grew weak, and my mind raced to argue with her. Surely she couldn’t be serious—we couldn’t leave her behind.
“There must be some other way,” Leo said. “Martha, let us help!”
With a quick shake of her head, Martha threw her phone toward the front of the cabin, along with the folder of research.
“Leave through the back,” she instructed as she tossed a small cartridge onto the small pile. Instantly, the cartridge began to sizzle and smoke, sending up a ferocious shriek. Flames ignited the papers and licked the air. Thick smoke filled the cabin in a blink, and Martha stepped into it, disappearing as a wide beam of light sliced through the haze. The door of the cabin had opened, but whoever had come for Martha remained obscured. The only thing I could make out was the silhouette of a gun in one of their hands.
Leo’s fingers threaded through mine and yanked my arm sharply.
“Come on!” he said, tugging me toward where the others were escaping out a window on the southern wall. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t force my feet to move.
“We can’t leave her!” I shouted, desperate to chase after her.
But Leo and the others were quicker to accept what I couldn’t.
What choice did we have? Ignore Martha’s orders and get caught? We’d never be able to finish our mission, which wasn’t an option.
With one final look at the blaze behind me, I turned on my heels and followed Leo, leaping out the shattered window and landing on the spongy ground.
The others had taken off as fast as their legs would carry them, but Grace remained behind, holding a large leafy branch in her hands.
“Go!” Her eyes flashed wildly. “I’ll cover our tracks!”
I did the only thing left to do.
I ran.
We spent the next two days anxiously watching our backs, meticulously planning, and trying to ignore Bert’s constant stream of trivia about England.
Seriously, did you know that there are over one thousand castles in England? And that all the swans in the River Thames technically belong to the queen? And that King Edward the Third once attended a fancy party dressed up as a pheasant?
Thanks to Bert, now you do.
Considering my only experience of London comes from Paddington Bear movies, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Bears with marmalade, for sure, and maybe some of those wacky-looking guards in the red coats and funny hats?
As it turned out, I wasn’t far off.
I mean, there were no talking bears. That was definitely a letdown. But the Tower of London was surrounded by guards, not to mention what seemed like a million tourists eager to get a peek inside medieval life.
Oh, and in case you’re wondering, calling it the “Tower” is kind of a misnomer, because even though there are towers there, the whole thing is actually a castle.
We’d devised our next move on the plane. Because we didn’t know what Victor looked like, we had to go with the clues Martha had given us and the pack she’d left for us on the Academy plane.
Each of us had a canister of the tracking spray and strict instructions to focus on the area of the castle where the Crown Jewels were displayed. Martha believed that whatever his reason for being there, Victor would stick to where the tourists were most congested to protect his anonymity. It’s easy to blend in when there’s lots of people around.
Our only job was to sniff out suspicious characters and tag them with our spray. From there, we’d have to hope that Martha was able to talk her way out of trouble and convince the government to use their global tracking system to find him.
Easy peasy, right?
“Okay, everyone. Gather round.” Grace glanced up at the cloudless blue sky before giving us our instructions.
We stood on the flat, tidy stone path outside the entrance to the Crown Jewels tower. The breeze was cool, but there was a sense of warmth and excitement in the air from the bustling, happy crowds of tourists surrounding us. Stale castle air mingled with the sharp scents of coffee and damp stone, adding to the tense swell of nerves in my stomach.
“Once we’re inside, everyone is a suspect, okay?” Grace continued. “I want to break up into teams. Mary and Nikki, you take the southern part of the display. Leo, Charlie, you take north. Bert and I will take west, and Mo, you’re east. We’re looking for anyone who matches the description from the surveillance footage: male, dark brown hair, about six foot two. He might be wearing glasses like in Martha’s sketch, but maybe not.”
Bert s
hielded his face from the sun. “Yeah, that narrows it down, doesn’t it?”
I bit my lip at the sight of several men matching the description wandering by with their families.
“Remember, you’re looking for more than physical appearance,” Grace said. “Our suspect will probably be observant and suspicious. All we can do is hope that he stands out to one of us. Stay in communication at all times, okay?”
On the way up the crowded hallway to the Crown Jewels, Bert read off more random facts from his pamphlet.
“Did you know that the Tower of London is only a nickname?” he asked, pointing to the page in his hand. “It’s technically called Her Majesty’s Royal Palace and Fortress, the Tower of London.” He sniffed, rolling off the words in a false posh accent similar to Charlie’s.
“For a fortress, you’d think they’d invest in wider hallways,” Mo huffed, angling himself away from a family of six squeezing in to pass by us.
I giggled with Mary, who climbed the stairs behind me. Since arriving in London, we’d all done our best to keep a brave face for whatever was to come, but something about the tightness behind her smile made me worry. As her best friend, I knew my job wasn’t only to stop evil villains, it was also to make sure she was all right.
I decided to take advantage of the chance to talk to her without the others listening. “Hey,” I said under my breath. “Are you okay?”
She pulled the sunglasses from her face and slid them up past her forehead, tidying back her thick hair. “Yep! I’m good!” she said brightly.
That was my first clue that something was still wrong. Charlie was the perky one, not Mary.
“Are you sure?” I went on. “Ever since Costa Rica, you’ve been a little quiet.”
She took a few more steps and wrinkled her nose. “I’m always quiet, you know that.”
“Sure,” I said. “I guess you seem more quiet than usual. You can tell me if you’re scared, you know?”
“I’m fine, Nikki,” she said. “I swear.”
