Bugged Out!

by Matthew Porter

Dr. Barbaas was unimpressed. “Please, spare me your empty threats and step aside. There is no need for any plan of yours, you incompetent failure. Because I, the great Dr. Barbaas, have already concocted a foolproof plan.”

  “Put your weapon away, Flutura,” Doren demanded.

  Flutura clenched her jaw and put the dagger away.

  “Tell me your plan, Barbaas,” said Doren, intrigued.

  “With pleasure.” Barbaas retrieved a communication device from his pocket and spoke into it. “Okay, you can bring her in. Be careful, though. That’s my baby you’re handling.”

  A few moments later, four men dressed in hazmat suits dragged in a large cast-iron cage covered in thick chains into the room. It looked big enough to house a bear, and whatever was held inside of it let out a horrible screech that echoed throughout the lair.

  Barbaas directed the men. “All right, a little more, fellas. Put her right here in front of the computer monitor. Don’t mind the ugly butterfly. She’ll get out of your way if she knows what’s good for her.”

  Flutura was so disturbed by the screeching creature that she couldn’t even make a witty comeback as she took several steps back.

  The men dropped the cage in front of Doren’s monitor and scurried frantically toward the exit, tripping over themselves in a desperate attempt to leave the room before the cage door was opened.

  Barbaas walked up to the cage and peered inside it. “It’s okay, my darling, you can come on out now.” His voice was soft and calming, as if he were trying to comfort a scared child.

  There was a loud SHIIING, and the cage door was suddenly torn off its hinges. The chains that had bound the cage snapped like they were made of plastic. The thing let out a rumbling hiss as it stomped out.

  The giant insect stood eight feet tall. Its exoskeleton was bloodred, with white spikes protruding out of it. Razor-sharp teeth filled its mouth, and its crimson compound eyes burned like a raging inferno.

  “What is that hideous thing?” asked Flutura, completely disgusted.

  Barbaas grinned. “I call this beauty the shadow mantis queen. She uses her forearms to pin down her prey and, like a butterfly to a flower, sucks the energy right out of her victims. Here, let me show you.” He took his communication device out again and said, “Boys, bring in the main course!”

  Two of Barbaas’s henchmen carried in a man who was tied up and struggling to get free.

  “Drop him right here in front of my baby,” Barbaas directed.

  They dropped the man and sprinted away.

  Barbaas turned to his creation. “Okay, my perfect little monster, time for your din-din.”

  The shadow mantis queen opened her mouth, and her long, sharp tongue shot out and pierced the man in the chest. The man collapsed on the floor, writhing in pain until, after a moment, he was lifeless.

  “My treasure has an insatiable appetite,” Barbaas said, watching the beast feed. “She’s perfect for collecting energy from the little scamps at the high school. I’ve been coddling her for some time, snatching any fools who venture close enough to the cave and using them for her food.”

  “You just...kidnap people?” Flutura said. “You idiot, that risks exposure to our operation!”

  Barbaas frowned. “Only fools come near this cave, and I have to feed my lovely mantis. Otherwise, she and her offspring would starve.”

  “Her...offspring?” Flutura said with a grimace.

  “Um, yeah,” Barbaas said, furrowing his eyebrows. “Oh, they’re so cute, especially when they attack in hordes! They don’t usually kill their prey like mommy does, though, at least not right away. They like to take their time, keeping their energy source alive for days to weeks at a time before moving on.”

  “You are seriously demented, Barbaas,” said Flutura, wrinkling her nose.

  He smiled at her as though this were a compliment. “Why, thank you,” he said with a nod. “That is the best compliment we Corrupted can give each other. Anyway.” He looked at Doren. “We allow my babies to steal energy from the students at the high school, and they give us a portion of it to use against the Ark’s defenses. We will have that Ark in no time.”

  “Well done, Barbaas,” said Doren. “You may proceed with your plan. Bring me the Ark and you will be greatly rewarded.”

  “Thank you, Master Doren.” Barbaas motioned to the creature. “Come, my pet. We must begin phase one. I’m so looking forward to the havoc you and your lovely offspring are sure to cause.” He typed something into his handheld device, and he and the shadow mantis vanished in a green flash of light.

  Flutura shook in a furious rage, wondering why Doren would give the assignment to that fool. Finding the Ark was, after all, her job.

  Doren broke her train of thought. “Don’t just stand there, Flutura. See if you can find the whereabouts of the other Arks.”

  Flutura bowed. “Yes, Master,” she said behind gritted teeth. As she rose, she transformed into a storm of robotic moths, and they flew away in all directions.

  Doren laughed madly. Finally, he thought, the Arks are beginning to surface. I’ll soon be free to continue my work, and that detestable Edania Organization is spread too thin to do anything about it!

  CHAPTER 1:

  Welcome to Force-Pointe High—James

  I suppose this is the part where I introduce myself. My name is James Stump, and I live a double life. You see, I’m a secret agent who also happens to have superpowers. Now, I want to jump right in and tell you all about our many strange and exciting adventures. Like the time we prevented a deadly epidemic caused by energy-draining water, or the time we had to deal with a gang of thugs hired by a monster that could literally travel by shadows. Then there was the man completely made of mud and sand who tried to bury beachgoers alive, or the time we were trapped in the mall with a homicidal clown. But it’s always wise to start a story from the beginning, and for me, the story started the second week of junior year.

  It began as any other Monday. I awoke promptly at 5:30 a.m., two hours before the bus came. I did so every morning so that I could read the various medical and science textbooks I’d been collecting. I just finished reading about nosocomial infections when the bus arrived. Right before I left my room, I took one last look in the mirror. Kelly Azusa, my only friend, told me to always take one final look at yourself before going somewhere to make sure you look your best.

  I looked the same as I always did. Tall. Thin. Pale. Thick glasses that my tormentors loved to break. I was wearing one of my favorite t-shirts that I got at a Future Scientists of America conference. It had a picture of a cartoon influenza virus taking a selfie, and below it, it said “Went viral before it was cool.”

  I got on the bus, took my seat and got out the latest issue of the Journal of Infectious Disease Epidemiology. If you hadn’t guessed, I’m a nerd, if you want to label me. I’m not ashamed of it, though. My high intelligence is my biggest asset, and I’m proud of it.

  I opened the journal and started reading an article about the transmutation of influenza between avians and swine. I was a page and a half in when they came, like most mornings.

  There were six of them: Max Cassedy, Adam Hitsforth, Chris Fellowmen, Jack Brennen, Mark Reston, and Jeremy DeGallo. I called them the Hyena Gang because of their obnoxious laughter. They were dim-witted, brutish and large, except for their leader, Jeremy. He was much smaller compared to his barbaric pack, but he was smart and manipulative, and always seemed to get himself out of trouble so he could continue bullying people—me, mostly.

  I sat there, trying to ignore them. Max and Jack were making the same old remarks about my glasses, lack of coordination, and choice of clothing while Adam and Chris took turns slapping me in the back of the head. Jeremy snatched my medical journal and held it just out of reach while Mark sat there and chuckled like a moron.

  “This is an interesting book, Dr. Stumpenstein,” Jeremy said as he held the journal out to show the rest of them the cover, which had a photograph of a sickly-look
ing chicken. “Look, he even made the front page.”

  I tried to grab it from him, but he tossed it on the floor and stomped on it. “Go ahead,” he said smugly. “You can have it back.”

  It had been torn and wrinkled, which I could handle. What I could not handle was the fact that it had been on the filthy bus floor as well as under Jeremy’s shoe, and who knew what filthy things he’d been walking on whenever he cut class.

  Finally, the bus arrived at Kelly’s house. The Hyena Gang usually stopped harassing me when she was around because they were all attracted to her, and she was my only friend. Our families had been close ever since we were little, so she had always been there for me. The Hyena Gang had good reason to like her, too. She had an excellent mix of intelligence and beauty. Her most defining feature was her long, flowing dirty-blonde hair.

  Kelly sat next to me, and the Hyena Gang receded like the ocean at low tide. Jeremy picked the journal up and tore it apart as he and the others walked back to their seats.

  “Hi, James. How’s everything this morning?” Kelly asked cheerfully.

  I thought about the ruined medical journal and sighed, then put on a happy face. “Quite well, thanks. I just…finished reading an article on the transference of influenza between fowls and swine. It was a fascinating read.”

  She laughed. “That’s something, but how are you doing?”

  I tilted my head. “I just told you.”

  “I mean, is there anything new in your life?” she asked.

  “Nothing new since yesterday,” I said. I really didn’t want to tell her about what had happened right before she got on the bus, otherwise she would lecture me about standing up for myself. Like it was such a simple task.

  She rolled her eyes. “James, that is not the way to engage in conversation. How many times are we going to have to go through this?”

  “What do you mean?” I inquired.

  She rubbed her temples. “You know, if you want to be the scientist of the century, you’re going to have to improve your social skills.”

  I raised my eyebrows at the statement. “Was Isaac Newton a social person? What about Mendel? Linnaeus? Boyle? I don’t think so.”

  Kelly sighed. “James, they at least had some social groups.”

  I sat back in my seat. “Kelly, Mendel was a monk who worked with plants. The only company he had was the Lord and a bunch of peas.”

  “Why do I even try?” she said, twiddling a strand of hair as we entered the half-mile-long bridge on the west coast of Tolles Island that connected it to the neighboring island of Force-Pointe.

  Force-Pointe High School stood on the eastern edge of the city of the selfsame name. We arrived on schedule at 7:45, giving us fifteen minutes to get to homeroom.

  As Kelly and I walked into the school, I noticed that half the main hallway was blocked by several students looking through the window that peered into Student Services, all of them whispering about something. The two of us stopped to see what the excitement was all about.

  Two new students, a boy and a girl, were talking with the student resource counsellor. The boy looked like one of those guys—a handsome, muscular, silver-tongued athlete who could get away with murder by charming his way out with his looks and carefully devised words. He was tan and had short but shaggy light brown hair, green eyes, and a well-groomed goatee.

  The girl was petite but athletic, probably a cheerleader or a gymnast. She was a head shorter than the boy and had delicate features and bright, green eyes. Her shiny, brown hair was up in a ponytail. Unlike the boy, who seemed to be dripping with confidence, she looked anxious.

  The new students both looked over at Kelly, me, and the rest of the students observing them like they were some zoo attraction. Everyone quickly looked away and scattered.

  We were halfway up the large staircase when a swarm of Kelly’s female friends surrounded us and started their bantering.

  “Did you see the new guy in the Student Resource Center? Talk about hot!”

  “Yeah, I would like to have a study session with him!”

  “I know, right? I hope he likes blondes.”

  “I hope he’s single!”

  See what I mean? I squeezed past them to get to class before I lost any more brain cells.

  Homeroom was as loud as it usually was. I sat in the back corner, reading my book on the history of infection control, just waiting for first period.

  Kelly walked into the room and sat next to me.

  “How can you stomach hearing those obnoxious females speaking of nothing more than boys and clothes?” I asked, not looking up from my book.

  “It’s nice once in a while to have a conversation about something not science related,” she answered.

  I slammed my book shut and stared at her. I was speechless. How could she say such a thing?

  Right before the bell rang, the two new students walked into the room followed by Mrs. Snider, the biology teacher. She was by far my favorite instructor. I had the utmost respect for her, because she never accepted anything less than your absolute best.

  “Everyone, I need your attention for a moment,” she said, trying to speak over the roar of voices.

  When nobody so much as looked at her, she grabbed a whistle from her desk and blew it. The whole class groaned and settled down.

  “How about we start acting our age, huh, guys?” she said sternly. “Now—” she motioned the boy and girl to step forward “—we have two new students I’d like to introduce.”

  The boy moved confidently, while the girl quietly trailed behind him. “This is Nicklaus and Abigail Scott,” Mrs. Snider continued. “They have recently transferred from Inverness, California, and will be joining us.”

  Abigail waved timidly, giving the class a quiet “Hi.”

  “What’s up, guys?” Nicklaus said, nodding his head slightly. “You can all call me Nick.”

  “You can sit in the two empty seats in the back,” said Mrs. Snider, pointing to the desks next to Kelly.

  “Okay,” Mrs. Snider said. “Now that homeroom is over, it’s time to get to work. Everyone, get your textbooks out and turn to chapter twenty-eight.” She shut off most of the lights and turned on the projector.

  Chapter twenty-eight was one of my personal favorites. It was about the immunological processes of vertebrates. I’d read it at least four times.

  Mrs. Snider asked the class what eosinophils did, and two people raised their hands. Jeremy DeGallo was one, and the other was yours truly. She called on Jeremy, much to my dismay.

  “They’re the white blood cells that deal with the allergic response,” he said.

  “Good,” said Mrs. Snider, nodding her approval. “What else do they do?”

  Jeremy’s expression went blank.

  I was too excited not to answer. “Not only do they respond to allergens, but they also fight parasitic infections. There was an interesting story about it in the book. There was a man who traveled to a tropical climate just to infect himself with hookworm, so that the eosinophils would focus on the parasitic infection and not on the allergen response. This halted his allergy symptoms, but was a foolish idea in my opinion because of the danger of parasitic infestation.”

  “Good, James, as usual,” said Mrs. Snider, smiling at me.

  Jeremy gave me the death glare. That’s when I knew I was in trouble. I kept quiet for the rest of class, fearing what was to come when the bell rang. When it did, I glanced over at Jeremy. He glared at me again and quickly left the room, which meant only one thing: I was going to get beat up. You know that expression “saved by the bell”? Well, I was afraid I was doomed by the bell. I could feel my palms getting sweaty just thinking about what he was planning for me.

  I nervously packed my things and headed out the door. I waited for Kelly so I could walk her to her next class and possibly avoid the Hyena Gang. As I stood in the hall, I saw the new kid, Nicklaus—or Nick, or whatever his name was, speaking with Mrs. Snider. I couldn’t hear what they were
talking about, but based on his wide, toothy smile, I assumed he was trying to charm his way into her good graces.

  Kelly finally came out of the classroom. She looked at me, then sighed. “Jeremy and his idiotic friends again?” she asked. When I nodded, she said, “Why don’t you stick up for yourself? They would probably stop picking on you.”

  I adjusted my bookbag. “Kelly, we’ve been through this. I am an intellectual, not a fighter. Besides, I would be in a much worse position if I talked back. It’s no use trying to reason with people like the Hyena Gang.”

  Kelly asked me if I wanted her to walk me to English when we reached her next class. I declined, partially because I didn’t want the Hyena Gang to make fun of me for having a “chick bodyguard,” and I certainly didn’t want her to be late for chemistry.

  I hurried down the empty hallway that led to the English wing. The only noise I could hear were my own shoes squeaking. I had just turned a corner when someone grabbed me from behind. I tried to break free, but someone else gripped me by the ankles and I was carried into an empty classroom and thrown onto the cold, germ-infested floor.

  I scrambled to my feet and tried to escape, but the door slammed, and I was looking into the awful, grinning faces of Chris and Adam. Dread fell over me like a plague-ridden blanket as I backed away from them. Someone else grabbed me by the shoulder and whirled me around. It was none other than Jeremy DeGallo, the head hyena himself.

  He picked me up by the shirt. “You made me look like an idiot in front of the hot new girl in class today,” he said. His angered expression gave way to a deranged smile, and I immediately felt ten times worse, because that smile never meant anything good. “Guess I’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

  He threw me back down on the floor. I closed my eyes, put my head between my knees, and curled up into a ball. I heard their footsteps getting closer, and then the kicking started. But it wasn’t the kicking that was the worst part—it was the humiliation, and the fact that I was on the filthy floor.

  I stayed in the fetal position, taking each blow, waiting for them to stop, when I heard a loud bang as the door slammed into the wall. Probably the other hyenas anxious for their turn, I thought nervously. Sure enough, I heard the telltale sound of obnoxious laughter, then felt more feet kicking me.