Dangerous

by Shannon Hale

  “So,” said one of the PhDs I’d nicknamed Sparky, “it’s looking likely we’ll need to—quickly and humanely—kill several possessed humans.”

  Everyone groaned.

  Sparky lifted his hands up innocently. “I don’t want to! But is there another option?”

  “My mom is one of those possessed humans,” I reminded him.

  “So not her,” said Sparky. “Save her for last.”

  More groans.

  “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger!”

  “Seriously,” said Luther. “You need to shut your mouth.”

  I was wincing. “Let me think … I need …”

  “You need ideas to try out,” said Wilder, “see which one feels right.”

  I nodded.

  “So …” The speed of Wilder’s pacing increased. “We could expose the possessed humans to extreme temperatures—cold or heat—or sound vibrations, loud or unique sound waves might shake them loose. Or photons of light of varying shades and intensity.”

  I shook my head. None of those ideas clicked in my mind.

  “They react differently to gravity, right?” said Luther. “How about sending them to space? Shoot them up farther away from Earth’s gravity and see if they pop out.”

  “A Beanstalk pod isn’t big enough for all the ghost-ridden passengers we’d need,” I said.

  “Yeah, and once they’re in space,” Luther said, “it would be much more difficult for you to follow their trail.”

  “Could you invent an antigravity chamber?” asked Howell. “It’s about time the world had one.”

  “That would be double-plus good,” Luther said wistfully.

  I considered, the techno-tokened parts of my brain rolling the idea around. “It’s too complicated, and it would take forever to manufacture.”

  “What about … pressure,” said Dad. “High pressure.”

  “That would kill the human bodies too,” Howell said.

  “A hyperbaric chamber?” said Wilder. “They use those for treating scuba divers with decompression illness.”

  I ran to a computer and looked up how hyperbaric chambers worked. My thinker-nanites approved, my techno know-how perking up. I started to scribble notes. “If we modify them … the pressure from the chamber would temporarily make the body inhospitable to the ghosts. Dad, I think it might work.”

  I smiled, trying to exude more confidence than I felt. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I had the impression he was trying to buoy me up in return.

  By dinner we had two hyperbaric chambers in the lab. Cylindrical, made of glass, they looked like high-tech coffins for Snow White. I gave my gaggle of whitecoats instructions on their adjustments and returned to my jet pack. If the ship was in the upper atmosphere, the jet pack would have to be very powerful. And while I was at it, I attached it to an improved robot suit. If you’ve got the chance to build a flying robot suit, why ever turn it down?

  Dad was off pain meds and was alert enough to ground me to my room that night, making sure I got rest. Lately my mind refused to sleep more than three hours at night, though I was always tired, exhaustion sticking to me like a greasy film.

  Luther stayed near me the next day, chatting away while I worked, which helped rest my brain. Luther’s possessiveness kept Wilder from approaching me. I didn’t have the energy to sort out what I felt about him.

  And with Luther and Dad, I forced myself to view the alien video again. They held my arms as I fell into the images, following the ships through space, and then plunging toward the planet before flying into the ship itself. I spent hours at it but still couldn’t make sense of the fireteam’s actions.

  At last I shut my eyes, curled up on the carpet, and despised myself as I cried.

  “Whoa, Maisie, are you okay?” Luther asked.

  “Lock the door, Luther,” Dad said.

  I heard Luther click the lock of Howell’s office door.

  “I’m okay,” I said from behind my hands. “It’s just … the images do this. I’m not really—”

  “Maisie,” Dad whispered. He leaned over from his wheelchair, put his hands on my head. “Maisie, we’re leaving. Now. There’s nothing we need to pack. They can’t stop us, Maisie. They can’t stop you.”

  “But Mom—” I started.

  “Would want you safe.” His voice shook. “This is … this is ludicrous, what they’re asking of a child. You don’t have to do it.”

  “I do,” I said.

  But then I looked up at him and almost changed my mind. The way he looked back at me—if I’d ever been unsure before, I had no doubt now that my dad loved me more than the world.

  But at that very moment Dragon and his team were loading Mom and fifty unconscious possessed Floridians into two jets. A few of them were newly possessed members of Howell’s own team. They’d shot through a number of attacking mini-troopers but hadn’t been fast enough to save three of the guys. Mom and Howell’s crew would arrive by morning. Since GT might attack any day, I’d decided to assault the ghostmen ship tomorrow.

  The other reason for the rush I kept to myself. Every day I could lift less weight, hold less shooter token charge, make less armor. The token-makers hadn’t intended for all five to coexist inside one person. I couldn’t afford to waste any more time. Tomorrow I’d either stop the invasion or die trying.

  “I do,” I said again.

  Dad looked defeated.

  “I have more work,” I said, getting up. “Luthe, look after Dad, okay?”

  And I left quickly. Because if Dad called me his little girl and took my hand and promised we could just run away again and everything would be okay, I might give in. And I couldn’t bear to live hidden away somewhere, useless, while the Purpose screamed inside me. I couldn’t bear to fail Mom.

  I locked the door to the lab and worked alone. My suit was finished. I triple-checked the hyperbaric chambers. Soon I had nothing left to do but twiddle wires.

  Tomorrow, I thought. And tomorrow, and tomorrow …

  I hopped out a window and scaled onto the roof. Wilder was there. Lockdown didn’t seem to hinder him. He’d laid out a blanket on the gravel top as he had last summer. There were no binoculars and only one pillow.

  “Your dad try to talk you out of it?” he asked.

  “But you won’t,” I said.

  “Wish I could, but—”

  “You’d make the same choice I am.”

  He nodded. “That Purpose rides with razor spurs.” He looked at my neck. “You’re wearing the necklace.”

  “One of the four gifts Jupiter gave to Europa,” I said, fingering the tanzanite.

  “I managed to give you the javelin that never misses too.”

  He gestured toward my chest—the shooter token.

  He put his hands in his pockets. I put my hands in mine. Far from the light pollution of a city, we had a front-row seat to the galaxy, the sky drenched in stars. A breeze found us, the cool, sweet smells of nearly spring twining between us, connecting. He was only a few paces away but it felt like kilometers. I came closer. He didn’t look at me, as if not to startle away a wild animal.

  I reached out and touched his chest above his top button—smooth, no sign the tokens had ever been there. I looked because I was curious; and I looked because I wanted to make contact with him and didn’t know how. His hand caught mine and held it pressed there.

  “Maisie …” His face struggled as he searched for words. He shook his head and let go.

  I held out my hand. “Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Maisie Brown.”

  He shook my hand.

  “Thank you,” he said. He didn’t let go this time. “Thank you,” he said again.

  “You’re welcome,” I said.

  I wanted to lean into him. I wanted to rest my head against his shoulder. I wanted his arms to go around me and how safe that would make me feel, even if it was an illusion. I wanted to lift my face and let him kiss me, and kiss me more. I wanted our bodies wrapped together and kisses faster than br
eaths, and my mind drugged by the emotions, turned off and humming, my body yearning and content, and how kisses can douse the rest of the world and make everything a single moment of touch. I wanted Wilder to love me. I wanted to not be afraid.

  I was the fireteam. I took one step back. He let go of my hand.

  I thought about going down to my room and my cold pillow, but there would be plenty of time tomorrow for solitude. So I sat on his blanket, my back leaning against the stairway door, and Wilder sat beside me.

  “May I put my arm around you?” he asked.

  “Yes please,” I said.

  “I promise to be a good boy,” he whispered, and I laughed.

  I let my head relax against his shoulder. We looked up. The stars were out. The whole galaxy was out.

  “I’ve been lonely,” he said.

  “So have I.”

  I was tired. My body seemed to melt. Soon I was lying down, Wilder beside me. Every moment closer. My head rested on his arm. My knee against his leg. His neck touching my forehead. My arm over his side. His eyes closed first. I watched for a time, glad that he could sleep beside me. Soon I was scarcely aware that I was asleep, only that I felt peaceful.

  I woke at first light. I was on my side, Wilder’s chest pressed to my back, his arm over mine as if to keep me warm.

  It should be the other way around, I thought. The air was chilly, and without his tokens, he must be feeling it. But Wilder was deep asleep.

  This might be my last morning on Earth, I thought, and I tried to feel the reality of that.

  I turned over carefully and watched Wilder’s face get bright with dawn.

  Chapter 53

  Mom’s hand was warm. A loose eyelash lay under her eye. I touched it with my fingertip and brushed it away. She had tiny freckles on her cheeks, just a few but more than I’d noticed before. Her chest rose and fell with breaths, but her face didn’t so much as twitch with a dream. Asleep I couldn’t see any wrongness in her eyes. Asleep I couldn’t tell that there was a ghost inside her, trapped by her unconsciousness, ready to scream warning to its ship the moment Mom woke.

  “Get out of her,” I whispered to Mom’s ear. “Get out or I’ll find a way to end you. You don’t know who you’re messing with. I am dangerous.”

  Mom didn’t rouse when I carried her from the plane to the bus. I settled her gently onto a seat in the back near the hyperbaric chamber. I put on her seat belt, tucked loose hair behind her ears. Kissed her cheeks. I patted the chamber as I walked off the bus as I might pat Laelaps.

  I’d hoped as soon as I saw her, I’d just know if she was still whole, that once the alien left my mami would remain. But I wasn’t sure. Ice in my gut warned she might be a breathing corpse.

  Howell had two charter-sized buses, each carrying one of our souped-up hyperbaric chambers, over two dozen unconscious passengers, and the remainder of the whitecoats to stick them in for sessions that would hopefully pluck out their alien parasites. I’d decided it wouldn’t be safe to conduct the extractions at HAL. Too easy a target for the ship’s master-blasts. The buses would stay in motion. And to allow more erratic mobility we fit them with monster truck tires so they could stay off road. Yosemite Sam would pilot one and Hairy the other. Dragon would stay at HAL in case GT attacked.

  “Dad, you and Luther get into HAL’s bomb shelter.”

  “I’ll stay with your mother,” he said.

  “Dad—”

  “I’ll stay with her.”

  I sighed. “Okay.”

  If the ship master-blasted the buses, I’d be losing both parents today.

  “Luther—” I started.

  “I’m staying too,” he said.

  Both parents and a best friend. I didn’t argue with them. The Purpose was a scream inside me, shaking every cell of my body, urging me up.

  “Maisie, it’s not too late,” Dad said. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I love you too,” I said.

  He nodded, sad and afraid, but also, I think, proud of me.

  Hairy helped Dad up the bus steps.

  “Hey, Dad! Make sure they save Mom till the end. And if anything goes wrong with the others, don’t let them—”

  “I won’t,” he said.

  I turned and rammed into the wall that was Dragon.

  “Let me come with you,” said Dragon.

  “The jet pack will only support my weight,” I said.

  “I’ll wear a space suit. Fly the Speetle. Ram it into that ship and join you inside it for whatever mayhem awaits.”

  The idea made me smile, but I shook my head. “I don’t think this is blind fear—I think it’s nanite-enhanced intuition. You can’t help. I have to do it alone.”

  He nodded, but his expression was as sad as I felt. He trudged back inside the complex.

  Wilder was going to stay with Dragon, but for the moment he just stood there in the brush outside the battle-scarred walls, watching me.

  Covered in havoc armor, I stepped into my pressure suit. Wilder came closer to help me do up the straps. I sighed. “It was supposed to be a team.”

  Wilder nodded. “You shouldn’t have to be alone.”

  “I can do this,” I said. I didn’t really believe it. But I would try.

  He nodded and headed after Dragon.

  “Luther,” I called. He looked out a bus window.

  “When you go home again, if your parents weren’t miserable missing you, toss ’em to the curb and take mine.”

  “We’ll share them,” he said, his expression stern.

  “Sure.” I was wearing the sunglasses Dragon had given me. I took them off and handed them up. “I’ll want these back.”

  Luther put them on. “I’ll keep them warm. Don’t be long or I’ll come after you.”

  “HAL crew is in position,” Dragon said in my headset.

  “Bus Alpha in position,” said Yosemite.

  “Bus Beta in position,” said Hairy.

  “Wait.” Wilder jogged back toward me. “I just—” He looked me up and down, put out his arms, and tried to embrace me. I was dressed in four layers: clothing, havoc armor, pressure suit, and robot exoskeleton—much more cyborg than girl.

  “Beep-beep hug Wilder,” I said in robotic monotone.

  “Hug enacted,” he monotoned back.

  He lifted my havoc-covered and gloved Lady hand and kissed it.

  “Kick some transparent booty.”

  “With pleasure,” I said. And for a moment, I meant it, my stomach tingling not in fear but anticipation.

  I watched the buses drive off in opposite directions and spoke into the headset. “Fireteam is go.”

  “Okay,” said Howell on Bus Alpha. “Our first subject is in the chamber. I am turning it on …”

  I could hear a hum. I held my breath.

  “I’m not sure if—” Howell began.

  “It worked!” I shouted. I could see a pink ghost coming up through the roof of the bus. “It worked immediately! Proceed with the plan! Go, go!”

  I turned on my jet pack and shot up into the air like a rocket, chasing the first Alpha ghost. The air felt harder than armor, like swimming through solid rock. Soon I could see a few more pink specks rising up below me. According to the plan, Teams Alpha and Beta would alternate releasing a ghost every ten seconds. If they were able to exorcise a ghost out of each infected human, I’d have about seven minutes’ worth of incoming ghosts. Seven minutes from the time the first one entered the ship till the last. Seven minutes to try to get inside it myself. If the ship stayed put till all the ghosts were in.

  The jet pack had two exhausts tied to the backs of my legs, belching fire past my feet. I maneuvered by moving my legs, like the tiller of a boat. I kept my head tilted back, my arms at my side, speeding to reach the ship at the same time as the first ghost. This high up, oxygen was getting spare, so I was breathing from a tank in the robot suit. I wanted to save my twenty minutes of held breath for when I’d really need it.

  I was onl
y a couple of kilometers up when I thought of Ruth, shooting up through the water as I now did through air. I was wearing a pressurized astronaut suit over my havoc armor, but what if …? I didn’t know what the rest of the question was, but I’d learned to trust these nanite-induced intuitions. The only place on my body that wasn’t havoc-armored was my face. I grew an ultrathin layer of armor over my eyes, only a few molecules thick, hopefully enough to maintain my internal pressure should something happen to my astronaut suit. I could see through it like sunglasses. I extended the armor over the rest of my face, leaving just a hole for my mouth so I could breathe from the oxygen mask.

  I didn’t dare look down and slow my ascent. Were more ghosts coming? Was one of them from Mom?

  “Can you hear me?” I asked in the headset.

  I didn’t know if there was an answer. The rush of air was deafening.

  Just ahead of me, the first ghost disappeared. The ship had arrived. I followed at full speed, hoping to break into the hull of the ship with the force of my impact.

  But before I hit the spot where the ghost had disappeared, I passed through some other barrier. Electric needles of pain pierced my skin, digging, fingering my nerves. I screamed. And my astronaut suit, robot suit, oxygen tank, and jet pack shredded and fell away.

  Chapter 54

  In a second everything but my body and havoc armor was torn apart. Even inside my armor, I felt Lady tremble and twitch, savaged perhaps by the ship’s barrier. I havocked the small breathing hole over my mouth, sealing myself completely in. At last I understood why the tokens resisted gravity just like the ghosts—nothing but ghostmen could get close to the ship, and so the tokens had to be created from the same stuff. Dragon in the Speetle. Metal bullets. A nuclear missile. Nothing would have made it through the ship’s barrier.

  I survived because I was bonded with the tokens, my armor made by them. My pressure suit had not made the cut.

  Not to mention I was now several kilometers above the ground without a jet pack.

  The momentum of my flight kept pushing me up for a few more seconds, and I used that time to extend my right arm with a meter-long havoc hook and swing it with all the force of my body. Just as the second ghost disappeared, my hook hit something solid. The ship. I seemed to be dangling from an empty sky.