The Siren's Cry

by Jennifer Anne Kogler

  “That’s way too dangerous!” Lindsey said, getting up from the treadmill. “First of all,” she continued, gracefully jumping from one treadmill to the next to get closer to Sam, “we don’t even know if Miles Zapo is a real person. Second of all, we have no idea where he is. And even if he is real and Fern can get there, we need more information before we send her somewhere where some maniac has left a kid in a cage.”

  “Fern can teleport back instantly if it’s too dangerous,” Sam said, dismounting the stationary bike and taking a step toward Lindsey.

  “We don’t even know what kind of danger she’ll face when she gets there,” Lindsey said, raising her voice.

  “You’re doing it again,” Fern said. “I’m right here, you know.” It was becoming increasingly clear that she had little part in controlling the escalating argument.

  “We sure won’t figure anything out by taking a walk through the Great Ape House on Friday!” Sam yelled back. He and Lindsey were now in the middle of the exercise room, less than a foot away from each other.

  Fern honestly thought Lindsey might take a swing at Sam. Both her brother and her best friend had clenched their fists as if the bell for Round One had rung and the fight was about to begin. From her vantage point on the seat of the rowing machine, Fern looked around the room for something that would distract them.

  Her gaze fell on the stack of towels on the water cooler in the opposite corner. Fern focused on the top towel. She closed her eyes and imagined the towel floating off the water cooler slowly. It glided across the room, drifting directly above the space between Sam and Lindsey.

  “Don’t you care at all, Sam, that your sister may be in real dang—“

  Lindsey was the first to notice the towel hovering directly above her head. She glanced quickly at Fern, who had her eyes half-open as if she were in a trance. Lindsey looked back up at the towel. Sam followed Lindsey’s eyes upward.

  “Whoa . . .” Sam, mesmerized by the levitating gym towel, let his voice trail off. He looked over at his sister. “Fern!”

  Fern’s head snapped forward, and the towel dropped to the floor.

  “New development I forgot to mention . . .” Fern began with a mischievous smile. “I can perform telekinesis.” “Tele-what?” Sam asked.

  “Telekinesis. Candace says it’s Greek for moving something with your mind.”

  “Candace?” Lindsey questioned. “Candace Tutter? You’ve been talking to Candace Tutter about your powers?”

  “Why in the world are you talking to Candace Tutter about any of this?” Sam added.

  Lindsey and Sam had shifted from facing each other to facing Fern, still lounging on the rowing machine. Though they’d been nearly at each other’s throats seconds before, shared outrage over Fern’s consultation with Candace united them once more. They made no attempt to hide their absolute disapproval. Of course, had Lindsey or Sam (or Fern, for that matter) known that about a dozen feet away, Candace Tutter sat with her ear pressed to the Fitness Center door, listening and trying to remember every word spoken so she could record them later in her spiral notebook, their outrage would have turned to outright alarm.

  “Blythe and Lee rifled my suitcase and had someone spread my underwear all over the lawn of the hotel.”

  “You’re joking,” Sam said.

  “If you don’t believe me, go look at the lawn right now,” Fern responded.

  “I’m really sorry,” Lindsey said. “That’s awful.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe I didn’t handle it all that well. But I was so angry; I tried to move the Coke so it would splash in Lee’s and Blythe’s faces. I didn’t realize the entire bottle had moved until it was floating above their heads. Candace saw the whole thing.”

  “That could be a problem,” Lindsey said. “What if Candace tells someone about it?”

  “I’m not sure anyone will believe her. She has even fewer friends than I do.”

  Lindsey looked at Fern sympathetically. “You have us,” she said, smiling. “In fact, why don’t you spend the night in my room? Olivia, Alexa, Mary Eileen, and I are going to have a Spit card tournament. Alexa says she’s never been beaten, but we all know that’s not true,” Lindsey continued, growing excited. “And then we’re going to stay up and watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Olivia brought it and says it’s supposed to be a classic.”

  “That’s okay,” Fern said, trying to hide the sadness welling up inside her as she thought of a night surrounded by friends, laughing with them until the sky went from black to orange. “Blythe and Lee will report me if I’m gone too long.”

  Lindsey always had her back, but Fern knew that Lind-sey’s other eighth-grade friends would not welcome her intrusion. Out of respect for Lindsey, they might not say anything, but Fern had imposed on Lindsey’s kindness enough as it was.

  Sam, still focused on Fern’s recent revelation, took a few quick steps toward the water cooler, grabbed a cup, and filled it with water from the gurgling jug.

  “See if you can focus on moving the water in the cup,” he commanded Fern.

  Fern got up from the rowing machine so she could get a clear view of the water in the cup. She focused on it and imagined the water flowing out of the cup, into the air, and across the room. When she shook her head to snap out of it, she saw Sam standing there, with the cup full of water unmoved from his hand.

  “Nothing?” Fern asked, surprised.

  Lindsey and Sam shook their heads.

  “Try the cup,” Sam offered.

  Fern took a deep breath and half closed her eyes again. Now she imagined the whole cup rising out of Sam’s hand, drifting into the space between them. Fern snapped her focus and saw the cup fall to the floor, splashing water a few feet in front of Sam.

  “You can’t move liquid, maybe, but you can move things for sure!” Lindsey said. Part of the reason she was so shocked was that everyone in the Otherworldly community, including her, thought Fern was a Poseidon, with special talents surrounding water. The name was taken from the Greek god of the sea, and Otherworldlies who had talents for moving water were referred to as Poseidons.

  “It’s like your power mutated,” Sam said, puzzled. “Maybe when you were submerged in the ocean, and you caused that tidal wave to form, it made something change in you. Near-death experiences can do that, right?”

  “It’s impossible. Otherworldly powers don’t change,” Lindsey said.

  “She’s still in her transmutation stage,” Sam said, referring to the point in an Otherworldly’s life when special powers begin to emerge. “Maybe that means whatever the source of her powers is . . . it’s still changing somehow.”

  “But that doesn’t happen to Otherworldlies!” Lindsey insisted.

  “Fern isn’t just an Otherworldly. She’s an Unusual. No one really knows what the true extent of her power is,” Sam said. “The Omphalos prophecy was a guess. And even if part of it turned out to be true . . . that doesn’t mean all of it is true.”

  “Sam, no offense, but you don’t exactly know what you’re talking about. You’re a Normal . . . my family’s been involved in Otherworldly affairs for hundreds of years.”

  Sam’s cheeks flushed with irritation. “If you’re the expert . . . then explain why Fern can do telekinesis now!” he demanded.

  Fern moved in between her brother and Lindsey.

  “Both of you need to calm down. I can’t move water anymore, but I can move things. I showed you so that you’d both know, not so you could fight about it. Besides,” she added, “we really don’t have time for this.”

  “I’m sorry, Fern,” Lindsey said, talking quickly. “I just don’t think we should rush to judgment. Maybe I should talk to my parents. They can consult The Undead Sea Scroll and see if there’s something we’re missing about your transmutation or about Miles Zapo.”

  Lindsey’s parents were among the few Otherworldlies who had access to The Undead Sea Scroll. The Undead Sea Scroll was a thousand-year-old, large, top-secret volume compiled by high-r
anking Otherworldlies and continually updated, detailing many facts relating to the mysteries of their existence. It had entries for nearly everything and functioned like a mysterious encyclopedia of sorts. There were fewer than a hundred copies in existence.

  “I’m sorry too, Fern, but I’m sure there’s nothing in The Undead Sea Scroll that will help us figure any of this out,” Sam said.

  “How would you know?” Lindsey demanded, picking their fight up once again.

  “Both of you, stop!”

  Fern rarely raised her voice. But when she did, those who knew her usually listened. Her patience with Sam and Lindsey had run out—they seemed more interested in being right than determining why she was having these dreamlike visions. She decided that if she couldn’t ask for input, she’d have to solve this puzzle herself. Though she wasn’t certain why she felt she must help Miles Zapo, it was a feeling she couldn’t shake. If there was one thing Fern had learned over the past few months, it was to trust her instincts.

  “Listen,” she said, looking down, proceeding thoughtfully. “I’m going to see if I can teleport to Miles Zapo and find out more about him. I remember exactly what the basement area looked like. When I do it, I won’t stay for more than thirty minutes, and when I get back, I’ll call each of your rooms, let it ring twice, and then hang up. If that happens, you’ll know that I’ve gotten back safely,” she said, turning to Lindsey. “If you don’t hear the phone ring within that half hour, then I want you to tell your parents where I went, Lindsey. Sam, try to avoid telling the Commander for as long as you can.”

  “When are you going?” Lindsey asked, feeling uneasy at the thought of her friend teleporting somewhere with so many unknown dangers.

  “Tonight . . . at midnight,” Fern said. Though she tried her best to pretend that she wasn’t scared beyond words, Sam and Lindsey could see the fear on her face. They weren’t the only ones who could tell Fern was putting on a brave front. Fern might not have many friends, and her nights might be spent fending off the torturous pranks of Lee and Blythe, but she was determined to solve the puzzle of Miles Zapo.

  Several feet away, from her position pressed up against the door to the Fitness Center, Candace Tutter couldn’t see her anxious face, but she could very clearly hear the panic in Fern McAllister’s voice.

  Chapter 6

  Miles, Revisited

  Though Fern had been lying in bed for over an hour, she became more alert with each minute that passed. Blythe and Lee had taunted her for about an hour, calling her every vile name imaginable, but sleep finally overcame them around eleven o’clock. Rhythmic snorts pulsed from the double bed they shared. For a brief moment, Fern smiled, amused at the thought that Blythe and Lee were snorers. She never would have guessed it from their designer outfits and hundred-dollar haircuts. But, Fern supposed, the one time people can’t control their appearance is while sleeping. Fortunately for Fern, Candace Tutter was also fast asleep, on the other side of the double bed she and Fern occupied. Had Candace been awake, Fern knew she could never sneak out of bed without being followed or questioned or both.

  One floor below in room 629, Sam tossed and turned. He thought about his sister. Ever since she’d been pronounced an Otherworldly, she’d constantly been in harm’s way as various factions sought to take advantage of her or even destroy her. This time, though, she was knowingly risking her safety by using her teleporting power to strike out on her own. Earlier, he’d convinced himself that Fern needed to discover the meaning of the strange dreams she was having. He reasoned that if there really were ten other Unusuals out there like his sister, Fern probably did have a responsibility to them. But what if he was wrong? What if it was a trap somehow and he’d encouraged Fern for all the wrong reasons? Maybe, Sam thought, he was more anxious to get answers about his sister’s past and future than she was. His curiosity might kill Fern—and if that happened, Sam knew he would never get over it. Reaching to the side table, Sam set the hotel room’s Casio clock radio, its face glowing red on the nightstand, for 12:31 a.m.

  One floor farther down, room 524 had its own restless occupant. The Spit card tournament had been postponed because of Alexa’s cold, and though Lindsey Lin tried to think of anything but Fern, she was failing miserably. She imagined her friend in some horribly dank, foul room, with all sorts of ominous creaks and strange murmurs emanating from the walls. Amid it all, there were the faint cries of a trapped boy. Each time she closed her eyes and momentarily drifted off, Lindsey would see her imagination’s version of the boy’s anguished face. The fear would cause her eyes to pop open as her heart raced and she gasped for breath. Slowly her heart rate would return to normal. After this cycle repeated itself several times, she turned over and saw her room’s Casio clock radio, identical to the one in Sam’s room.

  11:59 p.m.

  Fern would be teleporting momentarily.

  Meanwhile, at the same instant, Fern was also staring at the clock radio on her nightstand. Trying not to disturb Candace, Fern put her palms flat against the covers, lifted them slightly, and slipped out of the bed, silently anchoring her feet on the floor. Candace didn’t stir. Blythe and Lee remained snoring lumps on the adjacent bed.

  Fern tiptoed through the dark.

  She reached the dim bathroom and shut the door. Then she took a towel from the rack above the toilet and stuffed it into the crack underneath the door. When she flipped on the light switch, white flashed in her eyes, leaving colored spots that faded once her eyes adjusted. Dropping to the floor, Fern found the pair of shoes and jacket she’d stowed in the cupboard under the sink. She knew that if she had to clamber through the darkened room groping for shoes, one of the girls was sure to wake up. The last thing she wanted, though, was to arrive in Miles Zapo’s squalid chamber barefoot, clad only in her pajamas.

  After dressing, Fern lowered the lid of the toilet and sat down. Cradling her head with her hands, she shut her eyes and began to think of Miles Zapo. She remembered his thick-framed glasses, his smooth brown skin, and the metal cage imprisoning him. In her mind, she visualized the cold concrete walls and the stacks of equipment they enclosed. Fern’s hands tingled. Sensing she was close to disappearing, she doubled her concentration. She recalled the crate with NATIONAL ZOOLOGICAL PARK stamped on its side. She envisioned the pile of bamboo and the shovels. She could hear the orange light buzzing overhead.

  Less than a second after that, the bathroom was empty.

  Fern was gone.

  Scrambling to her feet, Fern oriented herself as quickly as possible. She was used to the blackouts now—each time she teleported, things went black and it took her a few moments to recover. What she would never get used to was the disorienting feeling of a sudden arrival in completely new surroundings. Once her eyes began functioning, she immediately recognized the pair of rooms where Miles had appeared in her dreams. Fern took a moment to collect her thoughts. She had successfully teleported. Part of her was excited. Her dreams weren’t dreams at all—she was seeing real places. Or at least, this place was real. Even so, part of her was frightened. If this was a reality, then it meant that poor Miles Zapo was or had been imprisoned here.

  Directly above her, the orange light she remembered hummed. To her left, cages were stacked almost to the ceiling. Fern glanced at her watch. In twenty-nine minutes, she was supposed to call Lindsey’s and Sam’s respective rooms and hang up after two rings.

  She had no time to spare.

  Scrambling over the pile of bamboo on her hands and knees, Fern maneuvered to the doorway in the corner that led to the room where she’d seen Miles before. As her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light in the second, smaller room, Fern used the right wall as a guide. There, in the corner, she could make out a large cage. A small boy was huddled in the back. The cereal boxes and banana peels were in the same place she remembered them. Fern approached the cage, looking around the room to make certain there was no one else present. Craning her neck, she peered up at the ceiling grate, which was slightly askew, abo
ve the cage.

  Fern mentally gave herself the all-clear signal.

  When she pressed her face against the cage, this time she could actually feel the chill of the metal bars on each side of her head. Miles Zapo was sleeping. Now his shoes were completely off, revealing a pair of white socks turned brown with dirt on the bottoms. A soiled, oversize Minnesota Twins cap with a torn brim covered his head. Unlike Lee or Blythe, he was barely emitting any sound. Fern could hear his quiet breath flow in and out. In spite of his dire circumstances, he looked peaceful. Fern almost didn’t want to wake him.

  “Miles,” Fern whispered. He did not move. “Miles, wake up.”

  Miles whimpered softly. He stretched out his body, opened first one eye, and then the other. He rubbed his eyes by twisting his fists, like a small child would. In many ways, he was a small child. His skin clung to his high cheekbones, and he had a little round nose and large eyes. As Fern peered into Miles’s eyes, she was glad she’d decided to come. Miles Zapo seemed helpless, and there was something about him that she inherently trusted.

  Miles slowly regained his bearings. He yawned, exposing his large white teeth, smiling as he focused on Fern. Though the boy wasn’t as pale as Fern, his olive eyes had a similar faded quality.

  “Fern McAllister. You came!” Miles said. He adjusted his torn-brim hat so that it was facing forward. He straightened up and pulled down his ripped sweatshirt.

  “Are you okay?” Fern said. There were a million questions she wanted to ask him, but that was the first to pop out.

  “I’m all right,” Miles said, “except for the whole stuck-in-a-cage thing.” He smiled convincingly, but Fern recognized the distress on Miles’s face. At least he was much more lucid than the last time they’d talked, Fern thought.

  She almost didn’t know where to begin.

  “How do you know who I am?” Fern asked. She regretted the question as soon as she asked it. Here was Miles Zapo, imprisoned in a rusty cage in a foul basement, put there by what was clearly some evil force, and Fern was asking questions about herself. “Actually, first tell me how you got here. . . . Where is the person who’s keeping you here? Where are we?”