by James Ponti
As the Prime-O, Dr. H held all the power. He didn’t need to confer or consult with anyone. He didn’t even need time to mull it over. He was judge and jury, and wasted no time before giving us his verdict.
“First, for the three of you,” he said to the others. “You broke one of our most important rules by going into Dead City without notifying me. The primary purpose of this rule is to keep you from winding up in a dangerous situation exactly like the one you found yourselves in. You should all know better. You did it to protect your teammate in very unusual circumstances, and while that counts for something, there must be consequences.”
Alex flinched.
“This team will be inactive until further notice, while we determine the extent of your exposure and danger,” Dr. H continued. “I hope you will use this time to consider the seriousness of what you’ve done. You are not to engage in any activities as an Omega Team . . . with one exception.”
The “exception” caught Natalie by surprise. “What’s that?” she asked.
Dr. Hidalgo took a quick breath, looked at me, and then back at her. “You can get together at the school or at Grayson’s house in Brooklyn to discuss candidates to replace Molly.”
The word hit me in the gut worse than any punch from a zombie ever could.
“Replace?” I asked weakly.
Dr. H turned to me, and I saw a tear running down his cheek. The only other time I had seen him cry was at my mother’s funeral. I knew this was killing him.
“Molly, you’re family to me,” he said, shaking his head. “But you’ve shown such bad judgment. You’ve risked your life and the lives of your teammates. You simply cannot be an Omega. At least, not now. Maybe next year or the year after that. If I think you’re ready, I’ll let the teams looking for new members know. But until then, you’re out.”
I was devastated. But I knew he was right. I had to take responsibility for what I’d done.
“Do you understand the consequences of your actions?”
I tried to speak, but all I could do was nod.
Much to my surprise, another voice spoke out for me.
“I’m sorry, but I find that unacceptable.”
It was Natalie.
My surprise was nothing compared to Dr. Hidalgo’s. He was downright angry.
“I beg your pardon?”
“With all due respect, I find your decision unacceptable.” Her voice was cracking a little, but she didn’t back down. “I know you have been very close to Molly and her family for a long time. I think the emotions of that connection might be affecting your decision.”
Dr. H gritted his teeth and tried to maintain his composure.
“I assure you that they are not,” he said.
“Even so, as the captain of this team, I believe I have the right to appeal any ruling to a review board of past Omegas. And that is what I would like to do.”
I actually remembered this from one of my training sessions with Grayson. But he had made it sound like it was a technicality, not something that ever happened.
“Do you dispute any of what you and Molly have told me here?” Dr. Hidalgo asked her.
“No,” she said.
“Then what do you plan on telling the review board that you think will make a difference?”
I can guarantee you that no friend in my entire life will ever stand up for me as much as Natalie did at this very moment.
“First of all,” she began, “I will tell them that Molly is the sole reason why the Book of Secrets is not in the hands of the undead. That if it were not for her quick thinking and fast action, the lives of every Omega, past and present, would be in danger.”
I looked over to her, but she avoided eye contact with me. She kept a laser focus on Dr. H.
“I will tell them that the reason she was able to do this is because she is the most naturally gifted Omega that any of the three of us has ever seen. And that because of this natural ability, she completed her training in record time. I should have realized this speed cut into important lessons that would have better prepared her judgment and adherence to the rules. I didn’t realize that she wasn’t ready, and as her leader, I should have.”
I watched Dr. Hidalgo as his face turned from angry to something else harder to define. He wasn’t agreeing with her, but he was listening.
“Most important, I will tell them that up until now, this Omega Team has had an impeccable record and a one-hundred-percent success rate. I feel confident in saying that by any standard, this team is elite. And we have absolutely no interest in finding a replacement. Molly’s our fourth. There’s no one else we’d want.”
“Don’t you think you should talk to your other teammates before you make such a claim?” he asked her.
Natalie didn’t even glance at Alex or Grayson. “I don’t need to. I know what they’d say.”
Even if she wasn’t going to, Dr. Hidalgo looked to the two of them. They nodded their agreement without hesitation. All three were putting their reputations behind me. I didn’t deserve it, but I was beyond grateful.
The room fell silent in the way that only the morgue can be as Dr. Hidalgo thought about this. Once he’d considered it, he looked at her.
“Okay,” he said, nodding. “You’re correct. You do have the right to appeal my decision to the review board. I will tell you that no panel has ever overridden the ruling of the Prime-O. And I see no reason why they’d do it this time. But you obviously feel passionate about this, and I respect that.”
I smiled and turned to Natalie, but she still wouldn’t make eye contact with me. She was mad, and she had every right to be.
“I will pass along your request,” he said, “once my successor has been chosen.”
“Your successor?” Natalie asked.
“The identity of the Prime-O must be a secret,” he explained. “That is no longer the case. My last order will be to put eyes on you and your families. And more important, I will put them on Marek.”
“That’s going to be hard,” I said. “I don’t think he comes up to the surface much.”
He flashed a tight-lipped smile. “Molly, you’re not the only Omega with natural gifts.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. H. I didn’t mean anything—”
He silenced me with an upturned hand. Then he addressed us all.
“Until further notice, this Omega Team is dissolved.”
You’re Probably (Still) Wondering Why There’s a Dead Body in the Bathroom
Despite their strong support in front of Dr. H, the others didn’t exactly welcome me with open arms once we’d left the morgue. I couldn’t blame them for being mad. I’d done a lot of things wrong. But the worst may well have been that I did them by myself. I forgot that no matter what, I was part of a team.
For the next few days, I gave them plenty of space at school. I avoided the cafeteria and ate my lunch out on the patio overlooking the river.
They came around. Slowly.
Grayson was the first. By Thursday, he had migrated out to the patio too. He wasn’t very chatty, but we sat together and watched the boats traveling along the river. Sometimes he’d forget he was mad at me and would make a joke or tell me some odd piece of trivia.
Alex came next. I was sitting in the library one day when he sat down across the table from me.
“Just tell me one thing,” he demanded, a stern look on his face.
I braced for the worst and asked, “What?”
“What’s it like to ride in the aqueduct?” He flashed a smile. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“It’s terrifying,” I said with a relieved laugh. “Absolutely terrifying.”
“But still fun, right?”
“No! It’s not fun at all.”
“Really? ’Cause it seems like it would be.”
A few days later, I was leaving campus after school and I saw that Natalie was right in front of me. I realized that I was going to have to take the first step toward making things better, so I caught up with
her.
“I know I said I was sorry,” I started, not waiting for any sort of acknowledgment. “But I also should have said thank you.”
“Why?” she asked, still not looking at me. “For challenging Dr. H and forcing a review board? For getting my team dissolved?”
“No,” I answered. “For being my friend.”
She turned her head ever so slightly, the closest I’d come to any sort of opening.
“I’ve never had a friend before,” I continued, “at least not one that I’d count. And as much as I love being an Omega, and I really love it, it’s nothing compared to how much it means to be your friend.”
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.” Her tone was short, but I detected the faintest hint of kindness in her expression. An ever so slight thaw.
“I know. I’m terrible at it. Like I said, this is all new to me. You gave me Omega training, but you should have given me friend training. I could have used lessons like: ‘Five Ways to Show a Friend You Care’ or ‘Things You’re Not Supposed to Do in a Friendship.’ ”
“I’ll tell you the first one,” she answered. “You’re not supposed to lie. Ever. And you’re not supposed to go behind your friend’s back.”
She was being honest. But she was also beginning to warm up a bit.
“What about endangering your friends’ lives?”
“No,” she said, laughing. “You definitely should not endanger your friends’ lives.”
“You see, now I’m getting it. This is exactly the type of training I needed.”
We kept talking until we reached the tram. She swiped her transit card and walked through the turnstile. I was just about to do the same when she turned back to me.
“What are you doing?”
“Swiping my card.”
“For the tram?” she said, in total disbelief. “You’re terrified of the tram.”
“Completely.”
Finally, she looked me in the eye and smiled.
“You would ride this tram? The tram that dangles more than two hundred and fifty feet in the air?” she asked, taunting. “Just to show me how much you want to be my friend?”
“I might scream and pass out along the way, but yes, I would.”
She reached out to stop me from swiping my card.
“You don’t have to,” she answered, to my great relief. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
That was earlier this week, which brings me to the St. Andrew’s Prep fencing tournament where this story began.
If you remember (and I tend to ramble, so I know it’s hard to keep up), when I started to tell you about all of this, I was sitting in a bathroom stall with a dead body. That’s where I still am. Trapped and waiting for help to arrive.
It is definitely not the way I expected this Saturday to unfold. As an alternate, my job was supposed to be keeping score for my coach. I was also hoping to get a feel for the strategies used by some of the girls from different schools, because I really want to get good at this.
I didn’t find out I was going to compete until a few minutes before the first bout. (In fencing, the individual matches are called “bouts.”) Coach Wilkes had to turn in our official lineup, and Hannah Gilbert still hadn’t shown up. When he couldn’t reach her on her cell, he gave me her spot on the team.
The fact that I hadn’t had any time to worry about competing in an actual tournament was probably a good thing. There were no expectations and no pressure. Any points I could earn for my team were a bonus.
In my first bout, I fell behind quickly, only to suddenly go on a roll. In an odd way, all the anger, rage, and frustration I had from recent events found their way into my fencing. I didn’t give up a single point in the next two bouts, and before I knew it, I was in the finals.
I was up against Saige Simpson, the top-ranked girl fencer in metropolitan New York. She had already accepted a scholarship to fence at Notre Dame and hadn’t lost a single bout all season. Everyone assumed she was going to kill me. But I knew better. I looked at her and came to an instant conclusion.
She didn’t have a chance.
That’s because the way she wins is through intimidation. Every other girl in the city was scared to face her, and that gave her an unbelievable advantage. But I wasn’t scared. I’d faced Level 3 killers, survived a twenty-block ride in an underground river, ripped an undead man’s arm out of its socket. I mean, the list goes on and on. To me, Saige Simpson is just another girl.
When I won, I don’t know who was more surprised—Saige or my coach. Both had tears in their eyes. My team loved it, and pretty soon they were all pouring bottles of Gatorade on my head, which is why I had to take a shower.
I had just finished showering when the zombie arrived. It was Cornelius Blackwell, still mad about me chopping off his hand. I know I wasn’t supposed to participate in Omega activities, but I didn’t really have a choice. I had to get rid of him. When I was done, I dragged him into the toilet stall and then texted Natalie, Alex, and Grayson for help.
SO NOW YOU’E CAUGHT UP. When we started I warned you that you wouldn’t believe it, but it’s all true.
Also true, I wish I had my vanilla because Cornelius’s rapidly decomposing corpse really stinks. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but I’m going stir crazy.
Finally, I hear someone come into the locker room.
“Molly,” a voice calls out in a whisper. “Are you here?”
“Back here,” I reply. “The handicapped stall at the end.”
I get up, slide the latch, and begin opening the door.
“Are you alone?” the voice continues.
I go to answer as I step out into the bathroom. But then I see him and my heart begins to race. I don’t know how it’s happened, but I am looking right into the cold dead eyes of Marek Driggs.
I try to move my lips but nothing comes out.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes.”
Reckoning
I stand there, staring at Marek and desperately trying to devise a plan.
“Am I too late for the tournament?” he asks. “I read about it on your team’s website and so wanted to watch you compete. Even though you were only an alternate, I had a feeling you’d get a chance.”
Suddenly it dawns on me that he may have had something to do with Hannah Gilbert not showing up. He reads the panic in my eyes.
“Don’t worry,” he assures me. “An unfortunate accident, but the fracture was clean, and she should heal nicely.”
Marek Driggs is pure evil.
“What did she ever do to you?”
“Ab-so-lute-ly noth-ing,” he says, drawing out each syllable. “But don’t you remember the part about my not having a soul? I needed to get you into the tournament so that you’d be nice and tired by the time we had this little chat. Still, I had no idea you would win. You are a girl of many talents. Hopefully, reasoning is one of them.”
“We’re not in Dead City,” I remind him. “There are laws up here on the surface. Trust me when I say you do not want to be caught in a girls’ locker room. All I need to do is scream.”
“True,” he replies, with a thoughtful nod of his head. “But I don’t think you want to be caught with a dead body.” He motions to Cornelius Blackwell’s corpse in the toilet stall. “So let’s just keep this between you and me.”
It occurs to me that Cornelius was also part of the plan. “Did you send him to tire me out too?”
Marek nods. “Guilty. And I even knew you’d kill him. Truly a terrible thing to do to your own brother. If I had a . . . you know . . . I’d feel awful about it.”
I glance at the floor and see my fencing gear. I realize that if I can stall him just a little as I move toward it, I might be able to grab a weapon.
“Cornelius was your brother?” I ask, buying myself time.
“Yes. In fact, there were five Blackwell brothers in that subway explosion. Five among the Unlucky 13 banished to spend eternity half alive and half dead on this wretched island.
And I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
He leans forward and whispers, “One of my brothers . . . is someone you know. Betcha can’t guess who.”
Marek flashes a wicked grin, and for the first time, I can see that his back teeth have a little orange and yellow to them.
“I seriously doubt that,” I say as I take another tiny side step. “I don’t really hang out with your kind.”
He mulls that over for a second.
“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll tell you who my brother is. And then I’ll spread the word among . . . my kind . . . that you are not to be touched. Believe me, if that’s what I say, no one will so much as lay a finger on you. Ever.”
“And what do you want from me in return?”
“The Book of Secrets,” he says, his eyes burning orange with sudden rage. “Cornelius said you took it from him, and I want it back.”
I shift my weight, as though I’m considering this, and use that movement to cover another mini-step toward the gear. I’m almost close enough.
“Why do you want it?”
“Why do I want a book that will lead me to the identity of every Omega past and present?” he asks sarcastically. “Let’s just say I’m planning on throwing a party, and I want to make sure everybody’s invited.”
“I’ve got bad news,” I tell him. “I don’t have it anymore.”
“Pity.” The smile disappears from his face. “I guess that means I have no use for you.”
It’s now or never.
I make my move toward the bag. But it’s not a real move. It’s an appel—the fake out I learned in fencing. Rather than reach for the bag, I move in that direction and stomp my foot.
Marek, who has had his eye on the bag the whole time, jumps to cut me off, and in the process winds up completely out of position.
I use one of my favorite Jeet Kune Do moves to introduce my foot to the back of his skull. Before he knows what’s hit him, I follow with two quick punches, all the while reminding myself what Alex taught me that first day: Go for the head. Go for the head.
He grabs a weapon from my bag and then flails wildly at me. I dodge the blade and grab one of my own.
