Shine: Season One (Shine Season Book 1)

by William Bernhardt

  She also found some reports in the files about the so-called plague incident at the Getty. So many people dead—all of them young males. Why was that in this file? Who would want to kill a bunch of boys? Were they going to blame that on Shines, too?

  Somewhere at the end, tucked at the bottom of a page about something else, she found something that disturbed her even more. A note indicating that representatives from the SSS had requested to examine the bodies of the dead males. Had even taken tissue samples.

  Why? And more to the point—why would the police allow that?

  All signs pointed to the SSS. Looked like they were running this show more than the police. And this file made it clear that no one in law enforcement was pursuing those leads.

  If anyone had the answers she wanted—especially the answers about what happened to her mother—it would be Reverend Algernon Trent.

  “Twinge?”

  Her friend appeared in the doorway. “Right here, sister. What’s up?”

  “Assemble the troops.”

  “Okay. And the message?”

  “Tell them to saddle up. We’re moving out.”

  68

  Aura led them to the edge of the expansive front lawn just outside Tarzana, half a mile from the nearest road. The ground remained damp from the earlier rainfall. Her shoes sank into the mud.

  “Some house,” she commented. Not saying much. But at the moment, it was the best she could muster.

  “‘House’ isn’t the right word,” Twinge added. “For that matter, ‘mansion’ isn’t the right word.”

  “My parents lived in the most razor part of Beverly Hills,” Gearhead said. “But we didn’t have nothin’ like this.”

  “You’re not chainmailin’,” Tank added. “My old place would fit in Trent’s garage.

  Mnemo had no trouble locating Trent’s home—and now she could see why. You could probably spot this place from the moon. She had never seen so huge a house in her entire life. If she had driven past it—not possible because it was far from the nearest paved road—she would’ve guessed it belonged to a movie mogul or perhaps a drug kingpin. Certainly not a man of the cloth. Not even one heavily involved in politics.

  Trent’s house could only be accessed by hardy hikers or private choppercar. Trent was one of the few people on earth who owned his own choppercar. The man must value his privacy.

  She wondered if there was a good reason for that.

  The architectural design followed the flat-roofer Lloyd Wright faux-Spanish style frequently seen in the better neighborhoods surrounding Los Angeles. In many respects, this house was simply more of the same—except about a thousand times more of the same.

  “I read online that the house was originally built by Rudolph Valentino,” Mnemo commented.

  “And Trent bought it?”

  “And doubled the square footage.”

  “From gigantic to ginormous?”

  “Something like that.”

  Not that she cared how big it was. She only cared about three things: one, that Trent wasn’t home, two, that they found something that helped explain what happened to Perfume, and three, that they found something that would help her find her mother. Actually, she would settle for any two of the three. Possibly one. Just so she wasn’t risking everyone’s life and freedom for no reason.

  “Okay,” she said, trying on her newly minted leader voice, “let's put this plan into action. Harriet, Mnemo—you both stay put, right here, on the outskirts.”

  “I don’t like my assignment,” Mnemo groused. “Like I’ve already said about a thousand times.”

  “It’s for the best, sweetie,” Gearhead replied, laying a hand against her cheek. “I wouldn’t be able to function if I was worrying about you the whole time.”

  “So I’m stuck out here with nothing to do but worry? Aura, this is a bad idea.”

  “I’m sorry, Mnemo, but this is the way it has to be. If something unexpected arises, you’re our remote research station. You’re our walking Wikipedia.”

  “That’s always been my greatest ambition.”

  “From your safe location, you can use your memory and your online skills to relay information.”

  “I still don’t like being separated from the group.”

  “You’ll be with Harriet, who will monitor all transmissions and contact us at the slightest sign of trouble.”

  “In progress,” Harriet said. “So far, all clear.”

  “Pay close attention to the air traffic control signals. If Trent takes off in his choppercar, I want to know about it. Long before he arrives.”

  “Understood.”

  “The rest of you…” She gestured toward Trent’s front door. “Let’s move.”

  “Could we have a quick review?” Dream asked. “For those of us who didn’t major in stealth and subterfuge? Is it avoid green, pounce on red? Or the other way round? And what about the cameras? I see big cameras perched on those poles.”

  “Gearhead? Did you bring flash cards?”

  “Sorry. Didn’t think of it. You don’t have to worry about cameras or recording devices or any other kind of electronic surveillance. I’ve got my blanket up and its working fine. They won’t detect our approach, and they won’t detect anything unusual, either. They’ll get a recurring static image. Everything will look perfectly normal.”

  “But how long will the blanket last on battery power?”

  Gearhead shrugged. “Maybe fifteen minutes.”

  “Still think we should’ve left that back at the library,” Twinge said. “Plugged in.”

  “That would mean I couldn’t secure this location.”

  “That would mean we had a safe place to go back to when this is all over. Every underground movement needs a secret lair. I’ve become fond of dusty books and living like a mole.”

  “If we’re not able to retrieve the blanket, we’ll find someplace else to stay. Right now, we have to focus on making this mission a success. So, everyone activate the GearheadGenius app I installed in your glasses.”

  “Modest,” Dream commented.

  “The app can detect kinetic energy waves for at least a hundred yards in any direction. So just walk slowly and keep your glasses on. You should see Trent’s little underground surprises long before you step on them.”

  “Let’s hope,” Twinge said. “So these are like land mines?”

  “Sort of. Land mines that pop out of the ground and spray bullets at Uzi speed in a circular motion. Like a lawn sprinkler. Owned by a drug cartel.”

  “If we accidentally trip one,” Tank asked, “what should we do?”

  “Pray,” Gearhead replied. “Because you’re already dead.”

  “Razor. Anything else we should watch for?” Dream asked.

  “Not that I know of. But it’s always possible there’s something Mnemo couldn’t find in online databases or floor plans or contractors’ reports or the documents on file at city hall.”

  “Aura, is it to late to rethink this?”

  “We’re a good team,” she replied. She knew this was the time for the big motivational speech. But she didn’t have one in her. And she didn’t think the Shines would buy it even if she did. “No plan ever goes precisely as planned. But we’re smart, and quick, and supremely talented. We’ll deal. Right?”

  “Could we just start?” Dream asked. “Your pep talk is kinda creeping me out.”

  “As you wish.” She touched the stem of her glasses. “Apps on, everyone. Gearhead, activate the blanket.”

  She felt as if she were wearing infrared night goggles, with two important differences. They made the ground acquire a red glow. And they didn’t make it easier to see in the dark. They made it harder. She took several steps forward, crossing over a steady field of red until—

  A green glow emanated from the ground. From beneath the ground, actually.

  “You see it?” Gearhead asked.

  “I do. That’s a land mine?”

  “If you insist on calling
rapid-fire 360-degree machine guns a land mine, then yes.”

  “And we’re supposed to stay away from that, right?” Twinge asked.

  “Knew you’d catch on in time.”

  “Patronizing much?” Dream asked.

  “I can’t help it if some people are slow on the uptake.”

  “And since you’re so quick, why is it the place that makes us stop is green, and the place we’re supposed to move across is red? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

  “She does have a point,” Twinge agreed. “Where did you get your driver’s license, Gearhead?”

  “Actually, I never did.”

  She pivoted around. “So when you jacked the car, you committed two crimes.”

  “Why not? They can only put me in Mordock once. Hey—what’s that?”

  She didn’t have to ask for clarification—because she saw it too. Some kind of blue wispy crisscrossing beams of light blocking their path.

  “What is it, Gearhead?”

  Silence.

  “Gearhead?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  “Not…exactly.”

  “You’re supposed to have all the answers.”

  “Sorry. This is my first home invasion.”

  “Full stop.” If Gearhead didn’t know what it was, she was certain she had no clue. But she wasn’t taking her team forward until they found out.

  “It looks like we could…kinda…squirm around the blue lights,” Twinge said.

  “Sure,” Dream replied. “If we happen to be a piece of Silly Putty.”

  “Says the girl skinny enough to become invisible just by turning sideways,” Tank replied. “This should be easy for you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere unless I know what’s going to happen if my foot slips.”

  “You can make sure your foot doesn’t slip.” Twinge’s voice dropped a notch. “The impossible would be making sure your mouth doesn’t slip.”

  Time to turn on the leader voice. “Shines. Stop. We’re a team. And a good team doesn’t—”

  “Monofilaments,” a voice barked in her ear.

  Twinge’s face screwed up. “What?”

  “They’re monofilaments.” Mnemo spoke through the glasses link. “At least that’s my best guess.”

  “And that means…”

  “Too thin to be seen by the naked eye,” Gearhead explained. “But the ever-resourceful GG app is picking it up. Kind of like tripwires. The sharpest eye could never spot them.”

  “Looks like you’ve saved the day again. Are they here for a purpose?”

  “Most likely they’re connected to an alarm. Or a weapon.”

  “Such as?”

  “Hard to say. Trent is a devoted Christian, and Christians believe in mercy and turning the other cheek. On the other hand, the man has machines guns buried under his front lawn.”

  “Bottom line this for me, Gearhead.”

  “The bottom line is, there’s no way I can know what happens if we trip one of those monofilaments. But I am absolutely certain we don’t want that to happen.”

  “Maybe I should just race through it fast,” Tank said. “Run the gauntlet.”

  “You’ll trigger the weapon.”

  “I’ll be out of the way before anything happens.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Whatever happens will happen to me. Not you.”

  “Unless it’s a nuke. Then it happens to all of us.”

  “I don’t think the man has a nuke in his front lawn.” Pause. “Probably. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

  “You don’t know that, girl,” Twinge said. “You’re tough. You’re not invulnerable.”

  “Someone has to do it or this mission is sunk. It should be me, Aura.”

  “No. It doesn’t have to be anyone. We can see the wires, thanks to Gearhead. We’ll just avoid them.”

  “Are you looking at the same blue lines I am?” Dream asked. “A contortionist couldn’t get around those. Much less Tank.”

  “We’ll just have to be careful. It’ll be like playing Twister. Verrrry slowly.”

  She inched forward, trying to concentrate on everything at once, not succeeding. She had to be careful where she stepped. She had to be careful not to make any noise. She had to keep an eye on the other members of her team. She had to stop on the green, walk on the red, and stay the flick away from the blue.

  Infiltration was a real clownfest.

  The blue lines had an unfortunate tendency to be largely horizontal, which meant she had to reenact a painful version of the limbo just to advance. She ducked under one blue line only to smack up against another crisscrossing from the other direction. And the longer she stood still, the more she sunk into the sludgy mud.

  “This…could…not possibly…be worse,” Dream grunted.

  “It could,” Gearhead replied. “We could be doing this without the app.”

  “I don’t know why you’re griping, Dream,” Tank said. “At least you’re skinny enough get under the beams. It’s harder when you’re… more substantial.” Out the corner of her eye, she saw Tank flat on the ground, crawling through the mud, getting filthy.

  Well, if the worst consequence of this adventure was having to wash their uniforms, they’d be lucky.

  She took another step—then gasped.

  Her foot sunk deep down into the ground. And would not come out. She tried as hard as she could, jerking upward with all her might, but her foot would not come out of the thick sludge.

  She was stuck. Back aching, blue beam hovering over her head, two red blotches to either side.

  Trapped.

  69

  Aura’s first instinct was panic, but she fought it back. Leaders do not freak, she told herself. Or at the very least, they do not let their freak flag unfurl. They stay calm. Don’t sweat. Don’t whimper like a baby.

  Her foot kept sinking. What was this, quicksand? Did Trent think his front lawn was not quite dangerous enough already?

  Gearhead spoke. “What’s wrong, Aura?”

  “I’m beginning to wish we’d come in the back way.”

  “Past the genetically altered Dobermans?”

  Right, right. “I can’t move.”

  A second later, Twinge was at her side, Tank only a few steps behind her. “What’s wrong, girlfriend?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t get my foot free. And I’m sinking.”

  Twinge crouched and took a closer look, letting the glow from the glasses provide some faint illumination. “I think your foot’s stuck in a sinkhole.”

  “A really big sinkhole,” Tank added quietly.

  “When you say sinkhole, you mean, basically, big mud puddle?”

  “More like, La Brea Tar Pits.”

  Razor. “Natural or manmade?”

  “Hard to say. I wouldn’t put anything past Trent. This lawn could be riddled with them.”

  She tugged harder but couldn’t dislodge her foot. Her sneaker slipped—oozed—off her sock. She didn’t want to lose it, but if it was a choice between losing a cute Converse and losing her foot, she was willing to part with the sneaker.

  Her heart beat fast enough to put her in the cardiac ward. She tried to fight off the incipient sense of doom, but she couldn’t quiet that irritating voice inside her head telling her how stupid and imprudent she was, a complete egopuss, thinking she had what it took to lead a team of Shines. She was delusional. And now all but dead.

  “Gearhead, how long before the blanket burns out?”

  “About six minutes.”

  “And once the blanket is down, how long before Trent’s guards zero in on me?”

  “Seconds. He’s got at least two men posted on the front porch.”

  Six minutes. And then she was dead.

  She felt Tank wrap both arms around her neck. “Okay, Aura, I’m gonna pull as hard as I can. Try not to resist.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I’m
not a total brute. I won’t rip your arms off.”

  “My concern is that I don’t want you tumbling in here with me.”

  “Oh.” Tank’s head titled to one side. “Maybe someone can hold my feet. Dream?”

  “I am not going anywhere near that icky mess.”

  “Dream. Our leader is in danger.”

  “And I can’t help her by getting stuck. Or icky.”

  Tank grunted. “Gearhead?”

  She was surprised when the reply came from below. “Already down here. Using my app to analyze the sitch. Relaying images to Mnemo.”

  “Does Mnemo have any ideas?”

  “Give her maybe ten seconds, okay, Princess Patience?”

  Ouch. Didn’t mean to offend your girlfriend just because I’m stuck in the SSS killing fields.

  Sweat beaded down her temples. Her blouse clung to her chest. Stupid TYL. Why did the blouses have to be white?

  “I got your feet, Tank,” Twinge said.

  “Appreciated. But I don’t think you have the weight to hold me down.”

  “I’m here, too,” Gearhead said. “Do it.”

  She felt tight backward pressure on her chest. Tank pulled as hard as she could, and she could pull seriously hard. But her foot did not rise out of the ooze. Not even an inch.

  “Can you pull any harder?”

  “Trying,” Tank grunted. She could feel the tension in Tank’s enormous arms. That girl was giving it everything she had.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Her foot was stuck fast. And sinking. The sludge rose up to just beneath the knee. Her entire leg felt as if it had been encased in amber.

  “Sorry,” Tank said, releasing her with a grunt. “I can’t get any traction.”

  “Equal and opposite reaction,” Gearhead said. “The sludge is countering your force with suction. Must be some kind of vacuum. Kepler’s laws in action.”

  “Damn,” Twinge muttered. “I hate physics.”

  “Leave me,” she said, drawing in her breath. “Complete the mission. While there’s still time.”