Clocksworth Academy

by Penny BroJacquie

  “What is she doing? Calling the spirits?” said Vittor, who had just entered the room in a hurry.

  “I suppose that will be next if decoding fails. We’ll call mama Althea’s spirit,” Maite mocked.

  “I have the results of Egon’s tests. The infection is progressing slowly in his blood. That means we may buy a few extra hours. However, the news from the hospital isn’t so good. One of the injured has already fallen into a coma,” Vittor said.

  “The sand in the hourglass is running out. Floriana, you must break the code now!” the Master commanded before turning to Vittor. “Tell Valerie to be in constant communication with the hospital. We have to be able to know at any time the condition the victims are in. Tell Carson to call our people in the police department. We need to learn what happened to the creatures that made the attack. Then come back here. You are the one who will confirm whether these papers include the formula for the antidote.”

  Then, he asked, “Well, young girl, have you anything to give us?”

  Nothing yet...

  The type of encryption she had learned from her mother was based on the method of the Replacement Code. Simple and classic.

  In the Replacement Code, letters or groups of letters are replaced systematically beside other letters from one end to the other end. Floriana had mastered two types of this method: the Julius Caesar Code and the Keyword Code.

  A message written with the Caesar Code can be decrypted if each letter is replaced by one that follows three spots later in the alphabet. Thus, A is replaced by D until the X, Y and Z are replaced by A, B, and C respectively.

  In the Keyword Code, a secret word or phrase takes the place of the equivalent first letters of the alphabet. The rest of the cipher text letters are used in alphabetical order, excluding those already used in the keyword.

  She filled several sheets of paper trying to decipher using the Caesar Code. None of them seemed to have the desired result. She decided to try the second option, but she needed a keyword. How on earth could she know the word or phrase her mother had chosen as a key to the most important cipher she had ever invented?

  “Floriana perhaps? Nah, that would be too easy.”

  She replaced the first letters of the English alphabet with the letters that constituted her name. Then she placed the letters she had removed in the spots where the letters of her name should have been. Nothing. She did the same with her father's name, Ross. And then her mother’s name, Althea. The result was the same: a bunch of gibberish.

  “Did you share a mother-to-daughter secret? Did you have a favorite place or song?” Eric asked her.

  They liked to eat fajitas, shortbread, and chips. They used to drink strawberry flavored tea and listen to the Beatles. None of this, however, broke the code. More than an hour had passed, and their nerves were stretched as far as they could go.

  “For God's sake, she was your mother! Did she give you a nickname or alias?” Maite broke.

  She had no nickname. However, sometimes her mother called by her favorite heroines’ names. “Pocahontas?” She was obsessed with Pocahontas for quite a long time. “No, this is not the keyword.”

  “Who was your favorite heroine?” Eric teased Maite. His face had a sweet expression.

  “Mulan. Who else?” she replied, playing with her black ring nervously.

  “That’s not a surprise,” Floriana said.

  Mulan was closer to Maite’s character than Cinderella or Rapunzel were. Putting these thoughts aside, her eyes fell on Maite’s hands.

  “Black ring, black rose, black flower, black tattoo... Milady!”

  Milady de Winter, the seductive spy in The Three Musketeers by Alexander Dumas, bore a tattoo on her shoulder, a black fleur-de-lis!

  She grabbed a blank piece of paper and wrote down hurriedly:

  M i l a d y

  Then she wrote all the letters of the alphabet.

  A b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

  She replaced the first six letters with those of the keyword and filled the spots of the missing ones with the rest of the letters in alphabetical order, excluding those already used in the secret word.

  M i l a d y g h b j k c e n o p q r s t u v w x f z

  She clutched the encrypted pages and started replacing letters: M where A was, where I was B, L where C, and so on. Words representing chemical elements began to fill the first paper, and the second, and the third.

  The most important finding, however, was the headline:

  “Antidote for Amoeba-Z.”

  The code revealed was indeed the formula for a shot against the deadly microorganism. The Order’s claims proved to be sincere. Still, how could she ascertain whether the “Amoeba-Z” caused the mayhem she experienced a few hours earlier? Flashing thoughts began crossing her mind. Everything had happened so fast, the revelations so shocking that she hadn’t even thought to question their credibility. The incident in the square was an undeniable fact and the TV news confirmed the existence of the hospitalized victims. However, how could she be certain their injuries were really caused by human bites and a brain-eating amoeba would transform them into zombies any time soon? How could she be sure about the role her parents played in this bedlam? The coded notes were written in what seemed to be her mother’s handwriting, yet how could she rely on her memory after all these years?

  The sound of a chair falling dragged her out of a world of thoughts, letters, and chemical elements in which she was sunk. A male hand grabbed the papers she was holding, and a female voice sounded behind her:

  “Hands up or I shoot!”

  CHAPTER 8

  *

  MAITE WAS STANDING behind them, close to the door, pointing at them with a gun she had briskly taken from her bag. So much for her icy gaze; now she was staring at them with malice. Eric was standing by her side, holding the papers he had grabbed from Floriana’s hands.

  “What’s happening?” the Master stammered.

  “These notes will be taken where they rightfully belong,” Maite replied.

  “I don’t understand,” Floriana looked at them, one by one. “Where should these notes be, if not here? You’re supposed to be the good guys in the story.”

  “As you said. Supposedly. It depends on which side of the mirror you are on,” blasted Maite, her beautiful face distorted with fury.

  “Why? How? Eric?” Looking for answers, the Master turned to the man he had considered to be trustworthy.

  “Sorry,” Eric murmured.

  “You know very well why,” Maite shouted. “Our people spent many years in the basement of Flakturm One until they reached these conclusions. Stumpfegger’s folder should have stayed in our hands; you had nothing to do with it. As for your mother”—she turned and looked at Floriana—“it wasn’t her job to deal with the antidote.”

  “Maite, what are you talking about?” asked the Master, sadness in his eyes. “I’ve known you since your childhood, when I lived in Spain. I knew your father; I knew your grandfather... They were honest people, dedicated to our purpose. How can you—”

  “They were honest people, indeed, but dedicated to our own cause,” Maite interrupted him. “You may have planted your spies in the Nazi Party, but we had our own within your organization. Did you really believe we had stopped watching you? You never fooled us, you know. We never believed your Order dissolved after it was declared outlawed.”

  “Your family, however, is of Spanish origin. What do you have to do—”

  “With the Nazis?” Maite interrupted him again. “Perhaps you forget that Spain was under the leadership of Francisco Franco back then. But maybe you remember the good standing General Franco had with the Führer. Really, did you ever think our movement had been dissolved? It remained in hibernation, waiting for the time of enormous growth. And that time has come.”

  Still pointing her gun at them, Maite began moving back toward the door. Silent and with an expressionless face, Eric grabbed their backpacks and put the pack of no
tes in one of them. He pulled a gun from the other backpack before he placed it over his shoulders. He gazed at the Master intensely, lips firmly sealed.

  Slowly turning the knob of the door with one hand while taking aim with the other, Maite resumed her manifesto.

  “With the help of Rogers’s formula, we’ll finish what we started before the Second World War. Anyone who is against us will be exterminated. Those who follow us will survive. We may be fewer than we used to be, but we have the power Amoeba-Z gives us. Within a few days, two thirds of the world’s population will have been transformed into biters. Those who come with us will be protected. Anyone who is against us will be beaten. And the antidote will be destroyed.”

  She looked down on them once more and rushed out of the room. Eric followed, but was stopped by a figure that was suddenly in his way.

  “Hey, buddy, what happened? Where are you going in such a hurry?”

  It was Egon, coming from the laboratory. He had lost his cheerful disposition, his skin was pale, and tiny, red veins were drawn on the whites of his eyes.

  Putting his free palm against his partner’s chest, Eric replied, “Please, man ... don’t...” and he ran away.

  Startled, Egon looked at Floriana and the Master, who stood frozen in the middle of the room.

  “Is it me they are running away from?”

  “SO, ALL THAT TIME THEY played us. Didn’t you suspect anything?” Egon asked the Master with a cautious tone in his voice. Floriana and Vittor, who had followed him from the laboratory, were now standing beside him.

  The old man sat at his desk and pulled close to him a wooden box. An elaborate rose was carved on the lid, which he lifted to pull out a cigar. After he cut its edge, he lit it and took a deep puff.

  “I knew there was a mole among us,” he said, slowly puffing the smoke from his lungs. “It’s been there for years. How else could the Amoeba-Z formula get into the wrong hands? It was obvious it was an inside job. I didn’t know, though, how deep the erosion was. It took me a long time to devise a plan so sophisticated that it would not be easily understood.”

  “It seems your plan was ineffective,” Egon said.

  “That we will find out soon, young man,” the Master replied, observing how the fire progressed through his cigar. Then he left it on the ashtray, put his hand inside his suit and pulled out an oblong red stone framed with rosewood.

  “If everything goes as planned, we won’t have to wait too long for this to flash. Until then, we have a lot to do.”

  He put the cigar-like object on his desk and stood up with difficulty. For the second time that night, he opened the secret locker at the back of the library shelf and dragged out a bloated envelope.

  “Did you really believe I had only one copy of your mother’s letter?” he asked Floriana slyly. “Now that you know the keyword to the riddle, your job is going to be easier.” He nodded for her to come closer.

  The young girl approached the desk and took the envelope in her hands.

  “This means that we still have hope that you’re going to get well.” She smiled shyly at Egon. With a sly wink, he reassured her. Although he maintained his proud posture, he seemed to have lost much of his energy.

  “It will also save those who are hospitalized,” Vittor interjected.

  Floriana sat in a chair near the desk. She was so tired that she could hardly keep her eyes open. However, she tried to repeat the steps she had followed a few minutes earlier to solve the riddle, with one difference. This time, she knew what the keyword was, and it was easier for her to put the letters in the right order. When she did it, the secret message revealed itself once again. Putting his hands on her shoulders, Egon leaned over to her and whispered close to her ear, “Good job!”

  She felt his breath hot against her skin and unconsciously wished he wouldn’t because of his illness. She immediately removed this thought from her mind, hoping he didn’t see her blushing.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  With a nod to Vittor, the Master made it clear what their priority was. “Now everything is in your hands. Go to your lab and start working on these notes. What matters now is to save our lad here and those in the hospital. Let’s hope Floriana’s mother was right.”

  A harsh noise made them jump up. Egon had collapsed to his knees, embracing his stomach. Streams of viscous, white liquid sprang from his mouth. His chest was moving up and down fitfully and he could not catch his breath through a persistent cough. Floriana knelt and gave him a dinner napkin that she took from the table. Vittor ran to them. He bent down and grabbed the man's wrist.

  “His heart will explode!”

  He took a pen from his pocket and put it into Egon’s mouth. He was trying to place it perpendicular to the larynx to accelerate the vomiting when he felt a strong blow to the chest and found himself in the air. It was Egon’s elbow that had hit him. He was thrown across the room before he crashed against the legs of a chair.

  “Egon! What the heck!” Floriana shouted and ran towards where Vittor was lying sprawled out. He was motionless with eyes closed.

  “Vittor!” She gently patted his cheek.

  A long sigh of despair was heard behind them.

  “Vittor!” she cried again. She kept beating his cheek until his eyes fluttered.

  “Thank God! Are you okay?” she asked breathlessly.

  An acute chest pain was the first thing Vittor felt the moment he regained consciousness. Moving his head slowly left and right, he opened his eyes.

  “That hurt...”

  Vittor groped his face and then the floor around him until he found his glasses. “It seems that thing runs a bit faster than I thought it would,” he said, putting his glasses back on. “How is Egon?”

  They both turned and looked behind them at the center of the room. The tall man was lying face down, breathing heavily. A small pool of white liquid had formed next to him. Struggling, Egon pointed to Vittor, trying to apologize. The Master was standing between them, firmly holding his staff, trying to assess the situation.

  With Floriana’s help, Vittor stood up and approached their prone partner. He caught Egon’s wrist and counted his pulse.

  “Welcome back, buddy.”

  Vittor’s voice was barely audible and his every breath felt like a punch to the lungs.

  “You have entered the first stage. That means convulsions, secretions, and seizures difficult to control. As the microorganism continues its way to the brain, your condition will deteriorate. In the second stage, you will no longer be able to control your physical strength. Do not worry, though, I have prepared some sedative injections for you if things go wrong. But nothing will go wrong because I shall make the antidote.”

  Holding his chest with his hand, Vittor stood up and approached the desk. He took the notes with the broken code and then waved to the Master, who nodded positively.

  “You talked about the first and second stages. What will be next?” Floriana asked.

  Clearing his throat, Vittor replied softly as if he didn’t want Egon to hear. “In the third stage, he will fall into a coma. In the fourth, he will be brain dead. In the fifth and last stage, the bacterium will control all functions of his brain. His heart will continue beating, but he will have no soul; he won’t be human. He won’t even be dead. He will be undead.”

  “I always wanted to die young, and it seems I’ll un-die young!” Egon said, coughing.

  He tried to stand up. As Vittor and Floriana rushed to help him, a vibrant red flash came out of the cigar-like object on the desk. The Master grabbed it and stared at the screen. With a satisfied smile, he announced, “Beelitz-Heilstätten, 1945 AC...”

  CHAPTER 9

  *

  “Beelitz-Heilstätten... The killer always returns to the crime scene. Beelitz-Heilstätten... That’s where their base is located.”

  “Who told you that?” asked Floriana.

  The Master wagged the cigar-like object. “This little thing is the Orologion. It’s t
he one that sends us at the exact time point when history has been altered. The Orologion dictates our actions; we can’t travel back in time without its consent. It’s also required in the process of time traveling. You’ll learn more about its history if you enroll at the Clocksworth Academy. For now, all you need to know is that the Orologion wants us to go back to 1945.”

  “It wants us to go to Bee... Bee... What is that place called?” asked Floriana.

  “Beelitz-Heilstätten. In Germany,” the Master replied.

  “Wow. So, you’re saying that this Orologion is sending us to Germany in the wake of World War II and__”

  “No,” the Master interrupted her,” I’m saying that Orologion is sending us to Germany before World War ended and it’s sending us, not you.”

  “Oh...” Floriana’s shoulders dropped.

  “You aren’t ready yet. You’ll soon have the chance for your first jump back in time,” the Master tried to comfort her.

  “I was hoping that the Orologion would send us back right before I was bitten,” Egon murmured, disappointment in his voice.

  “My son, I was hoping that too,” the Master said. “But I’ve put my trust in Vittor. What the Orologion didn’t allow us to do by going back in time and protecting you for being bitten, we’ll do it by creating the antidote in our own labs.”

  Egon gave him a bitter smile. “I’m sure we will. So, Beelitz-Heilstätten...”

  The Master nodded. “The killer always returns to the scene of the crime. Beelitz-Heilstätten. That’s where their base has always been located.”

  “However, Eric...” Egon started coughing before he finished his phrase.

  “I knew I could trust him even though he is in love with Maite,” said the Master. “When I asked him to check her movements, he chose to do his duty. I was only worried if he would be able to follow through. It seems he didn’t succumb to his feelings.”

  Leaning toward Vittor, Floriana whispered, “Is Eric in love with Maite?”