by Eoin Colfer
“In here,” said Cosmo, shouldering a flimsy plastic door hidden behind a statue of Clarissa Frayne. In this particular statue, the institute’s founder was cradling an abandoned infant. Every orphan in the orphanage had heard stories about Miss Frayne. Apparently the woman had hated children, and she was the one who had coined the term no-sponsors.
The doorway opened onto a claustrophobic corridor, devoid of decoration and with only emergency lighting.
“Charming,” said Stefan.
“You should see the dormitories.”
The corridor became colder as it sank below sea level. The emergency lights grew more and more ancient, until eventually their path was illuminated by wall-mounted coil bulbs.
“Lightbulbs,” chuckled Stefan. “You don’t see those anymore, outside a movie theater.”
“All the power is leeched from the main power lines. Clarissa Frayne has been doing it for as long as I remember. For some reason, down here is the only place no-sponsors can go without being detected.”
Stefan nodded. “Of course. The energy leak would white out your scanner patterns.”
The corridor sank down and down, until finally they came to a dead end, flanked by two overflow pipes.
“Back in the early days, when the city used to flood, these made sure the basement drained.”
“And now?”
Cosmo hauled back a maintenance hatch. It opened surprisingly easily. “Now the orphans use them to hang out.”
Inside the pipe were several levels, constructed from cardboard and waste pig iron. Rickety ladders connected each level, descending farther into the darkness.
Stefan tested a ladder with his weight. It collapsed beneath him. “I’m not twelve years old anymore,” he said, opening his jacket. Strapped to his chest was the one of the vests that Ditto had stolen from lawyers on the roof of the Stromberg Building. He tore open the Velcro pad covering the rappelling kit and wrapped the cord around a solid handle.
Stefan slapped his own back. “Okay, Cosmo. Climb on.”
Cosmo did as he was told. “Next time, promise me that we’ll use the stairs. Just for once.”
Stefan winked. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, swinging down into the blackness of the pipe.
They seemed to drop forever, right down into the center of the earth. In fact the cord ran out before the pipe. Stefan took a lumi-light from one of his pockets. He snapped it to activate the luminous crystals before dropping it to the ground. The bottom of the pipe was inches away.
“Maybe tonight is our lucky night,” he said.
“It’s about time.”
They disengaged from the rappelling cord, dropping to the floor with a thump. The pipe was almost entirely corroded, so they felt their way out onto a hard rock floor. Cosmo stubbed his toe against a thick cable. He dropped to his knees, tracing it back to a junction box.
“I’ve got something here. A switch.”
“Makes sense,” said Stefan. “If the Clarissa Frayne people are stealing power, they would have to be able to see what they’re doing. Turn it on, Cosmo.”
Cosmo wrapped his fingers around the thick switch and pulled until he heard a sharp click. The cavern was instantly illuminated by a dozen halogen spotlights. They were in a vast tunnel, originally blasted by Satellite City’s sandhog crews almost a century ago to accommodate gas, water, and electricity pipes. The hundred-foot-high power conduits had been stripped back to bare wire in places and were feeding several small generators. A bass hum emanated from the naked wires.
The wires weren’t exactly naked. They were clothed in a luminous blue carpet. Sleeping Parasites. Millions of them. Each creature’s silver heart pulsed in time with the alternating current.
Stefan tightened his grip on the energy pulse.
“This must be the place,” he whispered.
Cosmo’s first thought was to run. It was his second thought too.
Stefan placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Cosmo. We’re not dying or in pain. If we were, they’d be all over us. All we have to do is tread carefully, and there’s no reason for the Parasites to take any notice. Hell, we could sing an opera now, and it wouldn’t wake them up. They don’t respond to sound, just pain.”
“You’re sure about that? You have actual evidence?”
“Not as such, no. But I feel it in my gut.”
Cosmo giggled with more than a touch of hysteria. “I’m feeling something in my gut too.”
“All you have to do is stay here. I’ll plant the energy pulse, then we go out the way we came in. Two minutes. That’s it.”
Stefan walked carefully through the maze of piping and cable, stepping over sleeping Parasites as he went. His aim was to plant the pulse as close to the heart of the group as he could, where it would do the most damage. They could remote detonate it from the street, unleashing an electrical storm on the creatures. If Ellie Faustino’s theory was correct, the dirty energy should rip the hearts right out of the Parasites, but not affect the humans at all, so long as they weren’t too close to the blast.
Stefan climbed an ancient stepladder, gently wedging the attaché case beneath the main pipe’s lower curve. There were Parasites all around him, breathing, glowing, living.
He climbed down the ladder, turning to give Cosmo the thumbs-up. He never completed the gesture, because Cosmo was not alone. A large man had him pinned by the neck from behind, with a rod pressed into the skin of his cheek.
“Hi,” said the man. “Nice of you to drop in and plant a bomb under us all.”
Stefan was accustomed to acting under pressure. If it had been just him and the stranger, he would have gone for his rod, but now somebody else’s life was in danger.
“Do it,” said the man, grinning. “Reach for your weapon, and this kid will be sucking plastic faster than you can blink.”
“Take it easy, Redwood,” said Cosmo. “You don’t know what’s going on here.”
“I know, all right,” said Redwood. “You’re trying to blow up the Institute and put me out of a job. Agnes would love that.”
Stefan took a slow step closer. “Redwood? I’ve heard of you. You like to beat up children. You want to take a chance on someone your own size?”
Redwood laughed. “My own size? Kid, you’re half a foot taller than me. I’m not stupid. Just take out your weapon and slide it over.”
Stefan felt a bead of sweat slide down his backbone. They were safe from the creatures, unless someone got hurt—then the Parasites would awaken. “Okay, Redwood, take it easy. Here’s my lightning rod.”
Stefan lifted his weapon from its holster with two fingers. He set the rod down, kicking it across the floor. “There, you see. I’m unarmed.”
“And the detonator,” ordered Redwood. “Don’t tell me you were going to blow yourself up with the building. You have a detonator there somewhere, so hand it over.”
Stefan ground his teeth in frustration. “Redwood, this is not what you think. Just listen for a minute . . .”
Redwood jammed the rod under Cosmo’s chin. “You listen, moron. It’s simple enough. Give me the detonator or I wrap the boy, for starters.”
“Okay, okay. Here it comes.”
Stefan unbuttoned a flap on his suit pants, drawing out a metal cylinder with a red button on top. The red button was protected by a plasti-glass cap. Idiot-proof. No timer, just flick and press.
Stefan gave diplomacy one last shot. “Redwood . . . Marshal Redwood. This is not a bomb. It’s an energy pulse. There are creatures all around us . . .”
“Shut up!” commanded Redwood, jamming the shrink wrapper painfully into Cosmo’s neck. Painfully. Pain.
The Parasites began to sit up. Electricity was all very well, but if there was pain to be had . . .
“Slide over the detonator now!”
A wave of Parasites popped up like falling dominoes in reverse, their soulful eyes searching for the source of the pain. A million eyes landed on Cosmo. A million and counting.
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br /> “Redwood,” stammered Cosmo. “We have to get out of here now. They’re coming.”
The Parasites sprang from their perches, advancing in waves across the rock floor. They ignored Stefan completely, focusing on Cosmo.
Stefan flicked the detonator’s lid. “Let him go, Redwood, or we all go up.”
“You’re bluffing!” spat Redwood. “You won’t do it. You’re no fanatic.”
Stefan’s thumb hovered over the button. “You know something, you’re right. We’re not fanatics. In fact we’re really grounded.”
The parasites flowed around him, leaping over his head. Stefan was barely visible in a sea of blue.
Grounded? thought Cosmo. What does he mean?
Then he got it. Grounded, of course. Cosmo made sure his rubber-soled boots made solid contact with the tunnel floor, and closed his eyes. This was going to sting.
Stefan’s thumb settled on the button. “Last chance, Marshal. What are you going to do?”
The Parasites were inches from Cosmo’s neck.
“I’m going to wrap the kid first, then you,” said Redwood.
“Wrong answer,” said Stefan, and pressed the button.
The energy pulse detonated, releasing a blue mushroom cloud of tainted power into the tunnel. With the howl of a hurricane, the mushroom grew to fill the space, then sank into the rock. The halogen spotlights blew out immediately, sending sparks showering down like neon snow. Lightning bolts sparked from the center of the blast, targeting the Parasite’s silver hearts. They were skewered, dozens on each bolt, vibrating as the dirty energy passed through their organic filters. The lightning bolts split like a spider’s web, spearing Parasite after Parasite in turn. The creatures attempted to deal with the sudden influx of power, but it was too much for their systems. One by one they flashed blue, then collapsed to the rock floor, their silver hearts cold and black.
The humans fared slightly better, especially Cosmo and Stefan. Their rubber-soled boots conducted the worst of the shock away from their bodies. Nevertheless, they were given a severe rattling by the power surge. Cosmo felt his eyes roll back in his head, and the legs of his trousers began to smoke. Stefan’s hair stood tall on his head, and his jacket caught fire. He whipped it off, slapping it against the rocks.
Redwood was not so lucky. He had stupidly released his grip on Cosmo when he realized that Stefan was not bluffing. If he’d only held on for a few more seconds, the energy surge would have passed right through him into the boy. As it was he felt the full brunt of the charge. The effect, while not as spectacular as what happened to the Parasites, was no less permanent. The electricity ignited the viscous hair oil he liked to slather on his precious locks, and burnt every follicle of hair from his head. Not only that, but it scorched the pores so the hairs could not grow again. Then the electricity picked the marshal up as if in a giant fist and slammed him into the tunnel wall. As he lay there, his clothes singed and dropped off, until the man was left wearing nothing more than Bugs Bunny long-johns.
Cosmo shook the shock from his system. “What is that?”
The room was lit by lightning bolts.
Stefan picked up his lightning rod. “Bugs Bunny. A 2D rabbit. “‘What’s up, Doc?’ That was his catchphrase.”
The light faded as the Parasites dropped to the ground. Their hearts were black and shriveled like lumps of coal.
“We did it,” said Stefan, his smile grim in the fading light.
“Yes. We got them.”
Stefan snapped a lumi-light. “Not all of them, but it’s a start. We know it can be done. Now, we need to get out of here, or we’ll be blamed for this, and not the good marshal.”
Cosmo nodded. Redwood would take the blame for the power cut. It was a nice bonus.
One of the marshal’s eyes flickered open.
Cosmo leaned in close. “That was for Ziplock, Bugs,” he said.
The Clarissa Frayne Institute for the Parentally Challenged was in total chaos. Not only was the main generator gone, but the emergency power too. The dormitory gates had been deactivated, and the tracker program was dead. The no-sponsors had escaped from their beds by piling their foam mattresses on the floor and using them as a crash pad. Now they were running riot. Most of the guards were on transfer duty, so it was left to a single squad to maintain order.
Fred Allescanti had taken charge with disastrous results. So far he had managed to wrap two of his own men, and allowed several orphans to slip through the main doors. Lucky for the security team, the fire doors locked automatically in the event of a power cut. It had finally occurred to Allescanti to construct a barricade at the foot of the main stairs. They would hold the orphans there until power was restored.
Cosmo and Stefan approached the madness from behind. Fred Allescanti was firing cellophane slugs at anyone who poked his head around the corner. So far he had only hit things he wasn’t aiming at. The stairwell was covered with so many globs of cellophane that it resembled the inside of a handkerchief.
“You no-sponsors had better get back to bed,” he roared.
“Or you’ll spend tomorrow in a vat, I’m not kidding you.”
Cosmo felt his temper rising. “Those kids will suffer,” he told Stefan. “Every time something goes wrong, the guards blame us.”
Stefan handed his charred jacket to Cosmo. “Not this time,” he said.
The tall Russian youth drew his lightning rod and loaded a clip of gum balls. He slimed three of the guards from behind, and disabled the other three with well placed blows. In all it took about four seconds.
The orphans came down the stairs like a tide, crashing the barricade and pooling around Stefan’s boots.
“Any of you ever been outside on your own?” asked Stefan.
A little kid shuffled forward, his eyes barely visible behind a hank of black hair. “I escaped to the streets for a couple of weeks before they bagged me.”
“What’s your name?”
“My street name is Fence, on account of that’s what I do.”
Stefan took his hand, then wrote a number on the boy’s palm. “Run south, boys, past the blockade. Fence knows the way. When you get to the canal, call this number.”
Fence raised his free hand.
“Yes, Fence?”
“They got some kind of trackers on us. Last time, the marshals bagged me as soon as I set one foot outside Booshka.”
“Did you feel a shock just now?”
The boys nodded. Some of them still had socket hair.
“That was an energy pulse. It shorted out the power and the tracker micro beads in your pores. You’re free to go.”
The orphans were silent for a moment, digesting this momentous news. Then they burst into spontaneous cheers, clambering up Stefan’s tall frame like squirrels.
“Hold it, now,” said Stefan. “You have to move before reinforcements show up. Call this number. The man on the other end is a friend of mine. He’s always on the lookout for market boys. He’ll give you work and a place to stay. The wages aren’t huge, but they’re fair.”
Fence squinted. “This could be another trick. How do we know we can trust you?”
Cosmo stepped forward. “Remember me, Fence?”
Fence swept the hair from his eyes. “Cosmo Hill. Wrap me if it isn’t. We all thought you were dead. What happened to your face?”
Cosmo rubbed the bulging robotix plate in his forehead. “It’s a long story, Fence, maybe later. Just do what Stefan says. You can trust him. He saved my life, and anyway, life outside has got to be better than in here. This is the only chance you will ever have to make a clean break.”
The word spread along the stairway. Cosmo was alive, and this man was his friend. If Cosmo could survive on the outside, they all could.
“Okay,” said Fence. “I’ll call the number, but if you’re setting us up, I will hunt you down.”
The little boy stuck out his hand. Stefan shook it. “Fair enough.”
A siren sounded in the distance.
Obviously, news of the breakout had spread to the authorities.
“Time to go,” said Cosmo. “Now or never.”
“Now,” decided the diminutive Fence, leading the no-sponsors into the night, like a modern day Pied Piper.
Abracadabra Street
Mona knew she would have to apologize to Ditto; she was just putting it off for as long as possible. Crunch time came when Stefan called to say they were on the way home. The mission had been a total success, and they’d be pulling into the garage in ten minutes. If she didn’t shake off her sulk right now and apologize, Stefan would drag her up onto the roof.
“Oh, all right,” she moaned to no one in particular. “I’ll apologize, but only because I’m the bigger person, in more ways than one.”
The elevator was on the roof level, so to save time, Mona took the fire escape. The elevator was so old that it still had ropes and pulleys instead of a magnetic field. By the time it reached her floor, she could have finished apologizing and cooked a five-course meal.
Mona climbed the outside of 1405 Abracadabra Street, keeping close to the wall to avoid the acid mist that shimmered earthward. Pretty soon that mist would turn to mothball-size raindrops, and the sound of car alarms would reverberate through Satellite City.
She arrived on the rooftop just as Ditto was leaving it. The Bartoli baby had laid down a ladder and was crossing to an adjacent building.
“Hey, Ditto, what are you doing?”
But the wind snatched her words away, and Ditto did not turn around. Very strange. What did he think he was playing at? Mona knew what she should do was come back later. But she also knew she wouldn’t. This entire situation was too intriguing. So, moving with catlike grace and silence, Mona followed her fellow Supernaturalist across to the next building.
Ditto had left the ladder down, so that meant he intended on coming back. Mona would have to be careful. If she didn’t return before Ditto, she could be stranded on this rooftop with the rain coming.
