by Scott Jarol
Howard felt dumbstruck. Did he really think . . .?
Willis listened for their breathing to slow before continuing. “And how do we do that?” He paused again. Familiar with his boss’s speaking style, Howard understood he expected no response. “The best course of action is to press on. Only by completing what we’ve begun can we achieve the Triton project goal of a stable matter-energy field, restore the space-time continuum, and as a reward, deliver to the world a limitless supply of energy for ourselves and all future generations. So you see, we’ve already crossed the Rubicon.”
“So the best way to prevent total annihilation is to risk total annihilation?”
“Precisely, and well summarized.”
Howard pondered Willis’s twisted logic.
“Thank you, Dr. Willis,” said Gary.
Howard wrinkled his eyebrows at him in astonishment.
“We need to return to our startup checklist.”
Dr. Willis rubbed his hands together. “Boys, I know I’ve been hard on you, but it’s only because I recognize your potential. I hope you’ll accept that in my own stern way, I’m looking out for your future careers. When this test is complete and we’ve demonstrated our breakthrough to the trustees, I will personally make sure you are rewarded for your contributions.”
“Okay,” said Howard. “Great. Thanks.”
Gary glared at him, and Howard shrugged and mouthed “what?” He motioned with a sideways motion of his head that they needed to get out of there.
“I’ll join you shortly,” said Willis, dismissing them.
Their footsteps echoed down the stark white corridor. Howard remained lost in thought as they passed through several doors that clicked shut behind them.
As soon as he was sure they were out of range of Willis’s sensitive hearing, Gary grabbed Howard by the elbow and whispered urgently into his face. “We need to shut this thing down before it eats everything in existence.”
“That’s a relief!” Howard heaved an immense sigh. “For a minute, I thought you were as crazy as he is.”
Chapter 19
Westview Middle School Basement
Ezekiel and Nate followed Margaux all the way through the burning building down to her basement hideout. She woke his mother gently, so as not to startle her. “Mrs. K., we have to go now.”
“Oh, Margaux.” She coughed. “It’s so smoky in here. Is something burning?”
Schrödinger, who’d been sleeping beside his mother, wriggled to his feet and stretched his long body.
“Mother, we have to go right now,” said Ezekiel. Thick black smoke spread along the ceiling, gradually flooding the space upside down, from top to bottom.
“Zekie!” said Mrs. Kapopoulos. “You came back for us.”
He had no patience for his mother’s babble. The building above them would begin to collapse any minute now. He reached for Lucy, who hopped around in a panic. Just when he thought he’d finally cornered her, she managed to fly over his head. Schrödinger picked up an egg Lucy had laid in the coils of Margaux’s scarf, coaxing Lucy to chase after him, squawking and flapping her wings.
Margaux grabbed the broom she kept in her hideout and held its bristles over a cinder to ignite it as a torch. Schrödinger sniffed around for Doc’s scent, then took off down the dark basement corridor as fast as his tiny legs would carry him.
“Follow him!” Margaux cried. “Doc said Schrödinger knows the way.”
“But where could that go? It’s heading nowhere,” said Nate.
Ezekiel had his own suspicions. “Maybe it’s a secret passage.”
Lucy dove at Schrödinger, trying to fly ahead of him and cut him off, but he skated around her. With his stubby legs spread-eagled, he spun a full 360 degrees, bounced off the wall, and kept going. The others followed as quickly as they could.
Part of the ceiling collapsed in the passage behind them. Burning embers shattered on the floor into blooms of skittering sparks like bursting fireworks.
At the end of the corridor, they felt a cold draft. The air pressure pushed the smoke back, forming a space clear of haze.
“There must be another opening somewhere.” Margaux’s voice came out in a high, cartoonish squeak. “Hey, what’s happening to my voice?”
“You sound like a cartoon,” squeaked Nate. “Wait—now I sound like a cartoon.”
Ezekiel frowned impatiently. Nate may have been some kind of math prodigy, but as far as Ezekiel could tell, his abilities didn’t extend much beyond that. The best he could hope for was that Nate would stay out of his way.
“Helium. Like in balloons. It changes the pitch of your voice because it’s not as dense as regular air. Makes your vocal cords vibrate faster,” he said.
“They fill balloons with helium for party decorations,” said Margaux.
“Could be an old gas cylinder leaking down here somewhere.”
His mother looked worried. “Will it explode?”
“No—I mean, probably not. But helium doesn’t burn, so it won’t make the fire worse.”
Schrödinger ran into a room filled with pipes, a large tank, and the remains of the old coal-fired furnace that used to heat the school by circulating steam through iron radiators in each classroom. In the middle of the room stood a heavy iron box with a chunky door hanging from fat hinges. The blackened door was molded with the image of a shield, a pair of eagles, and the inscription Great American Stove and Boiler Company, Ltd. When Nate took hold of the handle, the door snapped free from its hinges and crashed to the floor, shattering into thousands of tiny pieces.
“That’s weird,” Ezekiel said.
He picked up one of the larger metal chunks, turned it over, and looked at the way the broken surfaces reflected the torchlight. He closed his fist around it, and it crumbled into dust.
Awestruck, Nate and Margaux copied him.
“Hey look, I’m Superman,” said Nate. “I can crush steel in my bare hands.”
“This iron has completely rusted away,” said Margaux.
“I don’t think so,” said Ezekiel. “The metal isn’t red or black inside. It’s still kind of silvery. It’s like its crystals have disintegrated. The chemical bonds are broken.”
She wiped her hand on the flowered skirt uneasily. “What can cause that?”
“Intense energy, like some kind of radiation,” he said, mostly to himself.
Nate’s helium-squeaky voice shot up even higher. “What if this whole place is radioactive?”
Ezekiel ignored Nate’s sudden panic. They were slowing him down. He had to think this through, had to get out of there. “It can’t be coming from above, because everyone upstairs would have died almost immediately.”
“And it would not have been pretty,” added Nate. “Blisters, hair falling out, melting skin, pretty gross stuff.”
“That same radiation could be blasting us right now,” said Margaux. She took off her knit hat and tugged on her hair to make sure it wasn’t falling out.
Schrödinger was pawing at a spot behind the steam boiler tank. Margaux went over to see what he was doing.
“Zekie, I’m feeling kinda light-headed,” said his mother.
“Too much helium, not enough oxygen,” he said.
Margaux was running her fingers back and forth over a crack in the floor. “Hey, look at this.” Her long hair sailed up off her face. She leaned in to sniff the air jetting from the narrow gap.
“If that’s the helium, you can’t smell it,” said Ezekiel. “It’s odorless—and pretty rare. This can’t be coming from a natural source.”
Nate crouched down beside her and ran his fingers along the thin gap. He traced the stream of air until he came to a place where the gap made a right-angle turn. “I think it’s an opening, maybe a door.” He pried at the edges but couldn’t get enough of a grip to lift the floor panel. Margaux worked a coal shovel into the gap and raised one side, just enough for Nate to get his fingers under it. He lifted the panel and shoved it aside.
The dust cloud left by the shattered iron furnace hatch spun itself into a vortex, a miniature tornado spiraling down through the opening in the floor.
“Superconducting magnets,” said Ezekiel. “That’s where the helium is coming from. Liquid helium cools the magnets to a couple of degrees above absolute zero. There must be a leak. The magnets sucked the iron dust right out of here.”
“Superconducting magnets under the school?” Nate looked up, eyes huge.
Ezekiel felt a flood of certainty. “It’s an underground laboratory complex. This is the way.”
“The way to where?” asked Margaux.
“Triton,” said Ezekiel.
“What’s Triton?” Nate asked.
“It’s where we need to go.” He wasn’t about to start explaining everything he’d learned over the past twenty-four hours.
Margaux peered over the edge of the square opening. “It’s dark down there. Is there a light switch?”
Nate laid flat on the floor and reached down. “I think I found a ladder.”
“Zekie,” asked Ezekiel’s mom, “are we climbing down another hole?”
“We have to, Mother,” he said.
“Not me,” said Margaux, suddenly but firmly.
“Are you afraid of the dark?” Ezekiel asked.
She hesitated. “Caves.”
“The Princess of Darkness is afraid of caves?” said Nate in his cartoon voice.
Ezekiel felt the muscles in his neck and shoulders tightening, turning hard as rocks. They had to get moving. He leaned close to Margaux. “It’s not so bad, but up to you. Stay here if you want.”
“Zekie! She’ll do no such thing,” said his mother, regaining her motherly tone. “It will be fine, Margaux. We’ll all be together, wherever we’re going.”
Nate had spun around on his stomach and dropped one leg over the edge to feel for the first rung of the ladder. He disappeared slowly down into the shaft. Ezekiel waited, and sure enough, Nate called up a moment later. “There’s some light down here.”
They helped Ezekiel’s mom down next. “It’s not as much fun as the chute we slid down last night,” she said as she began her descent.
Ezekiel choked and coughed in the thickening smoke. It was becoming more difficult to breathe as the fire consumed the remaining oxygen. The heat of the advancing fire intensified. He helped Margaux tuck Schrödinger into one of her deep coat pockets and then dropped Lucy through the opening. Lucy flapped her way down.
Margaux gave him a long look. “You’ll be right behind me?”
“Right behind you,” he confirmed. “Just get going.”
As her head disappeared into the hole, Ezekiel wrapped the QuARC in his parka, using the arms as shoulder straps. He lowered himself onto the ladder and dragged the hatch over the opening just as the fire, seeking the last remaining oxygen, flashed over the opening.
Chapter 20
Triton, North Star Laboratory
Howard and Gary grabbed several tools, including a large hammer and a crowbar. The other technician looked at them like they were crazy.
“Stuck fire suppressant valve,” explained Howard, hefting the hammer before hanging it from his belt. “We need to check the safety system in the Gamma Ring. Willis’s orders.”
They pulled on white cleansuits that covered them from head to toe and added matching booties and hairnets before heading out the door.
“Let’s not take the rail chair,” Howard said. The transport system would automatically log their trip. It would be better to take a battery-powered emergency cart. He slid into the driver’s seat and they sped away into the Beta tunnel.
“I thought you said we were going to the Gamma tunnel,” Gary said.
“Do you really want to tell some random tech where we’re heading? Imagine that conversation: ‘Gee, Dr. Willis, I saw Gary and Howard heading into the Beta Ring, and a few minutes later, that ring had a total breakdown.’”
They drove several miles around the enormous ring until Howard felt certain no one would spot them. He stepped out of the cart, raised his hammer, and took aim at one of the helium pressure relief valves.
“Wait!” said Gary. “We need to rig it so it crashes at the last minute. Can you do that? Otherwise, the safeties will kick in and shut it down before it can do any serious damage. Willis will just send in a couple of techs, and they’ll patch it back together.”
Howard caught himself midswing and clutched the hammer to his chest. That made sense. “No problem. I have an idea. The microwave magnetrons won’t fire up until plasma is injected. All we need to do is find the power harness for one of the transmitters and cross-wire it to a couple of the helium valve servos. As soon as the transmitters fire up, they’ll trigger the valves and vent the liquid helium from the cryo lines. Under full power, the mag windings will overheat and fuse together. It’ll stop the accelerator dead. No way they’re going to fix that any time soon.”
“Nice. Do it.”
Chapter 21
Office of the Student Body President
Cynthia grunted most unbecomingly as Virgil grabbed her around her middle and wrestled her to her feet. She could see Chuck helping Bruder into her desk chair. She couldn’t stand on her own yet and Virgil supported most of her weight. Who knew where these fools thought they were taking them?
Virgil lifted and carried Cynthia into the hall a few inches at a time, but stopped when he saw what lie between them and the exit. “It’s really hot and smoky. I don’t think we can get out that way.” Virgil continued to support Cynthia who puppet-flopped her feet around as if walking.
Cynthia moaned, her lips and tongue still maddeningly uncooperative with her desire to issue orders.
Virgil was still stating the obvious. “There aren’t any windows. How can we escape?”
“Follow them others, I guess. They musta gone down the stairs.”
“Too much fire in that direction.”
Oh, good grief! Cynthia flailed her arms, but all that came out was a screech.
“I think she wants to get out of here,” said Virgil.
She screeched again.
“Right now,” Virgil interpreted for Cynthia.
“Too hot,” said Chuck. They pulled Cynthia and Mr. Bruder back into the office and slammed the office door.
“Now what?” asked Virgil. “We’re trapped.”
Cynthia flinched as a crashing sound came from the hallway.
“It’s caving in,” said Chuck.
A loud horn blasted twice.
“What was that?” asked Virgil.
Chuck threw open the door so hard it ripped off one of its hinges. The Chairman’s black snowcat stood in the hallway, surrounded by chunks of busted concrete blocks. Cynthia sunk into the chair with relief. Finally, someone was doing something useful!
Thick smoke poured out through the wrecked school entrance. The snowcat’s engine roared as it lurched backward on its haunches like an angry bear, shaking off the flaming debris that had crashed down from the ceiling. Its headlights beamed through the haze.
A window on the vehicle slid open.
“Better get in,” said Thomas.
The snowcat had three rows of seats. Whoever was in front was hidden from view by the dark, tinted glass, including a panel that separated the front seat from the back. Cynthia gritted her teeth as Virgil and Chuck slung her into the middle row beside Thomas like a sack of potatoes, followed by Mr. Bruder, and then squeezed past them into the back seat. Once they were all on board, the snowcat backed out the way it had come in, bouncing over shattered bricks and down the front steps. Inside the closed vehicle it was strangely quiet, with a faint, woody-sweet odor of leather mixed with men’s cologne.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Thomas,” said a man sitting in the front passenger seat. Considering the chaos going on around them, Cynthia found his tone oddly calm and quiet. “You owe me a new ride.” He slid shut the dark window that separated the front and back of the vehicle’s inte
rior.
“Is that the Chairman?” asked Virgil.
“Don’t worry about the Chairman,” said Thomas. “Where’s the QuARC?”
“Uh nnn whrrruzzz,” Cynthia said. Dismayed at the animal sounds emanating from her throat, she shot Virgil a commanding look.
Virgil snapped to attention. He stared dumbly at her a moment, then shook his head and spoke. “She says she knows where it is.”
Finally! She had so much to say. Virgil listened carefully as she mumbled and gurgled, then translated for the others. “Zeke took it and disappeared, but she knows where he’s going.”
“How’s that?” asked Thomas.
Cynthia pawed at her coat pocket. After two or three swipes, Virgil found the opening for her and removed Ezekiel’s keycard.
“Found it in Zeke’s bag,” said Virgil, interpreting Cynthia’s murmurings.
Thomas took it from her and read it out loud, “North Star Laboratory. Nigel Willis.”
Cynthia focused all her energy on speaking clearly. “That Willis guy on dis card prolly wants tat ting s’much as Chairman.”
Virgil began to interpret for them again, until Thomas interrupted.
“What for?” Thomas asked.
“I dunno. Some sciencey ting.”
Cynthia heaved a sigh of relief as Thomas straightened up and tapped on the glass to get the driver’s attention. “Okay, that’s where we’re going.”
By the time they arrived at the North Star Laboratory campus, Cynthia was feeling more like herself again. When Chuck tried to help Mr. Bruder out of the snowcat, Mr. Bruder brushed him aside and then staggered around like an angry monster.
Cynthia had control of the ID badge again.
“How will you use that?” Thomas asked Cynthia. “The security guards won’t let you in with Dr. Willis’s badge.”
“Unless they don’t see me,” she said. “Mr. Bruder, Chuck, I need you to go to the main entrance. Act like you’re trying to get in. Tell them you have a delivery or something.”
