The Last Thirteen - 1

by James Phelan

  “A blue moon—” Lora said, now understanding the Professor’s urgency too.

  “Yes, Lora. The thirteenth full moon of the year,” the Professor said.

  “Blue moon?” Sam asked.

  “The name for the extra full moon that sometimes occurs in a year,” the Professor said. “If you have indeed had your final dream, we must act now. The full moon is tomorrow.”

  Lora snapped into action. “I’ll get the dream machine.”

  “Thank you,” the Professor said, and Lora ran down the hall, headed for Jedi’s lab.

  Lora returned faster than Sam could have imagined. Alex and Eva were with her, helping her carry the first-generation dream machine and helmets.

  “What are you guys doing here?” Sam asked, happy to see them both. They looked awake and alert, like they’d already been up for hours.

  “I found them in Jedi’s lab,” Lora said, setting up the machine on the floor between Sam and the Professor.

  “Jedi’s gone to Amsterdam to meet Shiva so we were manning his den here. They’re trying to contact Xavier and the others,” Eva said with obvious worry in her voice.

  “Still no word from everyone in Egypt?” the Professor asked.

  “Nothing,” Alex said. “All their phones are out. Seems most of the communications in and out of Egypt are kaput.”

  “That’s probably why they haven’t contacted us either, right?” Eva asked hopefully as she helped set up the helmets.

  “I wish we could have gone straight to Cairo,” Sam said.

  “I understand, and I agree,” the Professor said. “But Cairo is much more volatile than we had originally realized, and it was vital to give you a safe place to regroup and dream before the final race for the Dream Gate. I know it’s frustrating but we’ll be there soon.” The Professor sat back in the armchair next to Sam. “All the more reason why we need to get moving here.”

  The Professor took a helmet from Lora, putting it on and sliding down the visor as Sam did the same. The wires connected them to a console between the chairs. Lora started adjusting the controls and dials.

  “This dream was a bit different,” Sam said to everyone, almost apologetically. He looked across to the Professor. “Solaris was there.”

  “But that’s normal, isn’t it?” Eva said.

  Sam grimaced. “Yes, but this time, he had the Gear. He said … see for yourself.”

  Lora paused, her brow creased as she looked at Sam, then to the Professor. The Professor gave a small nod and Lora plugged a screen into the dream machine so that they could all watch.

  The Professor leaned farther back into his chair. Sam saw the computer code whirring down the inside of his visor. The image blurred into pixelated colours, before focusing again into a scenic view of a clear blue sky over rolling green hills and majestic snow-capped mountains.

  But this part of the dream wasn’t mine …

  03

  ISSEY

  “How much farther?” Zara asked. “Why is there no light ahead? Maybe we should have stayed with Dr. Dark and the others.”

  The flashlight in Issey’s hand was dimming and he could feel Zara clutching him tighter as they walked back through the tunnels to Dr. Kader’s workshop above.

  “We are almost there now,” Issey said, “it’s OK, I think the door was closed, that’s all.”

  He felt Zara sigh as relief flooded through her when the flashlight beam picked out the door ahead.

  “See?” Issey smiled at her. “Let me open it, hold this.” He passed the flashlight over and grasped the door handle with both hands, and was almost surprised at how easily it swung open at his touch.

  They picked their way back through the basement levels, searching out the Agents that had stayed behind to guard the house.

  “Hello?” Issey called out. They came out into a courtyard, deserted apart from a couple of birds sitting silently in the tree in the centre, staring at them with beady eyes.

  “Where are they all?” Zara said, pulling her jacket around her against the cold dawn air. “I thought they would be waiting up here for us.”

  “Come on, we’ll go upstairs. Maybe they are resting,” Issey said, but even he could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

  Something is not right.

  Spying a spiral staircase at the back of the courtyard, they went up to find a luxurious reception and lounge area, full of embroidered day beds and palm trees in bronze pots, long white curtains swaying in the gentle breeze. It was eerily quiet. Issey turned to Zara, a finger to his lips. Shh.

  Issey stepped forward silently with Zara, moving around the furniture, casting his eyes down the corridors that led off the main room.

  Where are they?

  He stopped abruptly as he bumped into Zara. She was gasping for breath, her arm outstretched, pointing to the floor to the right of them. As she made to scream, Issey clamped his hand firmly over her mouth, gently holding her as she turned away.

  Two Agents lay on the floor.

  Issey turned Zara’s face to him. He could see the horror in her eyes. “We must be quiet,” he whispered. “Please, can you do that for me?”

  Zara nodded, tears streaming down her face as she forced herself to hold in her fear.

  Issey bent down to the Agents, checking for a pulse, but there was no hope. Both had gunshot wounds that could not have been survived. He felt bile rise in his throat, shock and panic threatening to overwhelm him.

  This is no computer game.

  As Issey stood up, he noticed something amiss at the far end of the room. Pot plants were knocked over, furniture broken, with bullet holes in the walls and blood splattered at the bottom of a curtain. He caught sight of the other two Agents, also sprawled on the floor, gunned down protecting them.

  They put up a fight.

  They died for us.

  We cannot let it be for nothing.

  “What do we do?” Zara whispered to him, glancing around nervously.

  “We find a phone,” Issey whispered back. “We must reach someone, warn someone. They can send help.”

  They tiptoed down one of the corridors, gingerly pushing open doors, finding bedrooms and bathrooms, but no phone.

  “Downstairs, I think,” Issey said quietly to her. Zara started to follow him but there was a sound from a room at the end of the corridor.

  A man coughing?

  A door creaked open inside one of the rooms, footsteps moving across the floor.

  Zara needed no encouragement, she was already frantically scurrying back toward the main room, Issey hot on her heels. They had almost made it to the lounge when a door opened behind them. Issey didn’t stop to look, but he heard someone yell, “Hey! Stop, come back here!”

  Nuh-uh!

  Issey burst into the lounge, weaving through the furniture, Zara just in front, heading for the staircase. He caught up to her at the top and as they threw themselves down it, he turned to see two men in grey suits, guns in their hands.

  Without a moment to lose, they sprinted across the courtyard, aiming for the front door ahead. Zara was wild-eyed next to him as he grabbed her hand.

  A shot rang out from above them, splintering the plaster of the wall near Issey’s head.

  Uso!

  They slammed into the door, the sound of people running toward them pounding in Issey’s ears as they wrenched open the door.

  Issey pushed Zara ahead of him onto the street outside. “Go!”

  04

  XAVIER

  Xavier sat staring into the shadows. Maria, Poh, Cody and Rapha were huddled together. Phoebe paced back and forth, wearing out a track in the dust underfoot. Xavier looked over to his father, Dr. Dark. He sat awkwardly against the wall dozing, his head lolling back and forth.

  He’s really lost it, leading us down here—leading us to Solaris, like a fool.

  Xavier grit his teeth.

  When he wakes up, we’re gonna have a tough talk.

  Solaris and his heavies had gone, but th
ey were still captive. He’d left motion-detection traps at either end of the tunnel which, if triggered, would release a wall of fire from devices on the floor. He knew that for sure. He’d seen it, tossing an empty water bottle through the sensor grid and watching it get roasted down to a melted mess.

  Xavier had not closed his eyes beyond a blink. He was tired, but his mind was buzzing. He watched, he listened. Trapped, but not done.

  Not like this.

  There’s gotta be another way out of here—we just have to find it.

  They were under the pyramid complex, in the maze, the stone walls trapping them.

  As long as Solaris leaves us down here, we’re stuck.

  So how do we beat him?

  “I’ve had enough of this …” Xavier whispered to himself. He crept past his father and came close to one of the motion sensors. It looked like the sensor some shops had on their doors, making a buzz when the laser beam was broken by customers coming in.

  But this was different, in two significant ways.

  First, it wasn’t just a single beam set at ankle height across a doorway. No, not even close. This projected beams in a crisscross pattern all over the tunnel opening, thin strings of red light from top to bottom.

  The biggest space between the beams might be enough for a cat to jump through. Maybe.

  The second difference was the canister attached to the device. It was a metal cylinder, about the size of a can. It had a “highly flammable” fire symbol on it. He swallowed hard as he looked closer, trying to make out if there was a switch or release or any way that he could get it off the sensor.

  Nope, nothing.

  There was only the dull glow of one flashlight between them. All the other batteries had run out. Xavier quietly moved to the other end of the tunnel. Same thing—same sensor, same canister.

  Great, just great.

  “Plotting our escape?” a voice said and Xavier nearly jumped out of his skin as he saw a tall shadow cast in front of him. He turned.

  Cody stood there.

  “Man,” Xavier said, “you just scared the sand out of my hair.”

  “Sorry,” Cody said.

  The others got to their feet.

  “How long has it been now?” Rapha asked.

  “A few hours,” Xavier said.

  “Any sign of …?” Cody began.

  “Nope,” Xavier said, looking beyond the red beams into the darkness. “Nothing.”

  They all looked at Dr. Dark, who was snoring quietly.

  How can he be so relaxed at a time like this? And on that floor!

  “Is he really sleeping?” Cody asked.

  “Apparently.”

  No one said anything for a while.

  What else is there to say?

  Xavier silently watched his father. He couldn’t work out whether to be angry, sad or both, at the fact that his father had led them down here, to Solaris.

  “What is Solaris’ plan? Why is he keeping us here?” Maria asked finally. “What does this all mean?”

  “It means,” Xavier said, “that we’re about to be on the wrong side of history.”

  “We gotta get out of here,” Cody said.

  “Easier said than done,” Rapha said, looking again at the sensors.

  “If Solaris comes back, we might have a chance,” Cody said.

  “How?” Poh asked.

  “There’s him and his two men, and six of us,” Cody said. “Not counting your dad, Xavier, no offence.”

  “None taken, but this is Solaris we’re talking about,” Xavier said. “He’s no slouch.”

  “He’s right,” Rapha said. “I heard he murdered the Guardians and Agents who tried to capture him.”

  “I’m afraid that’s true,” Xavier replied. “He’s strong, he’s fast and he’s ruthless.”

  “Well, the Agents should be coming to look for us soon,” Phoebe added, walking over to join them. “Zara and Issey have been up there for a while now. No doubt they’re organizing a search party.”

  “I hope they don’t take too long,” Rapha said. “I am getting very, very hungry.”

  “That’s not funny,” Maria said.

  “I know,” Rapha said. “It is serious. And we only have one bottle of water left. We could die down here.”

  “Solaris isn’t going to kill us, right?” Poh asked.

  “He left us down here without food and water,” Cody said, “so who knows? Maybe he wants us to starve or die of dehydration.”

  “Maybe,” Xavier said. “But I doubt it. We’re still of value to him.”

  “It’s not like we are going to find more Gears,” Maria said.

  “But we need to be there at the end, remember the prophecy?” Xavier said.

  “So what are we going to do?” Maria asked.

  “Well, whatever it is,” Xavier said, “we have to start doing it now.”

  05

  THE LAST NIGHTMARE

  Fields of swaying green grass fill the valley as far as I can see.

  I am home.

  A stream snakes down from the mountains and slices through the valley. Stone farmhouses dot the landscape. I pedal faster, toward town, racing down the hill. It’s a patchwork of old stone and timber buildings, housing the few thousand people who live in the shadow of the mountains.

  I ride fast. Beyond the pines, I stop at a crest. It’s uphill all the way from here. I drink cold water from a stream at the edge of the forest. The fading sun filters through the branches. I think about school. We have some tests next week, the final exams before I begin at the special senior school where my father teaches. My father encourages me to study every night—not only that, he tests me, his teachings beyond anything we learn in class.

  You are destined for something great.

  That’s what he’s said to me since I can remember. He reads me books about the world’s great thinkers—explorers, writers, artists, inventors—and tells me that, one day, I will be among them.

  I start the uphill climb. At first, the bike’s tires struggle against the dense and slippery pine needles that carpet the ground, but soon a narrow worn track emerges.

  When I ask my mother about what my father says, about greatness and destiny, she says that she agrees. When I ask her more about it, she says that I must follow my dreams.

  It’s what she always writes on the notes she hides for me everywhere. It makes me smile.

  Once I’m through the forest, the path winds down to a small waterfall. I stop to rest for a few minutes. I put the bike on the ground and take an apple from my pack. I sip cool water from the stream and eat. The sun is beginning to set. I know at this time of year, when I can no longer see the town bathed in sunlight, I have fifteen minutes of daylight left. I toss my apple core into the stream and watch it float away and disappear in the rushing water.

  I ride the last section fast. I am in the school cycling team. We’re good, although not as good as we could be. The others don’t spend as much time training as me.

  Why bother competing if it’s not to win?

  I can hear a low whirring noise above me, slowly getting louder. An aircraft? I look around. I can’t see it. It gets louder still. I pull hard on the brakes and stop my bike. I look and listen.

  WHOOSH!

  It flies right over me. A helicopter, one that I’ve seen before. It’s the rescue helicopter, from the city on the other side of the mountains. I watch it head down toward the town, flying fast. I’d love to fly like that. That’s my dream—to one day be a pilot.

  One day.

  I smile as I take off again, riding hard as I can up the climb, my legs burning, racing as though I could somehow catch up with the speeding aircraft. Its blinking lights disappear as it banks to the left, away from town.

  There’s nothing in that direction but farmland.

  And our farmhouse.

  Panic rises in my throat and I pedal harder.

  My mind is racing and I am riding so hard that in the failing light I brake too
late at the next bend and skid. My tires slide off the path and down the loose gravel that drops away into the gorge.

  I bounce and tumble and crash. A small tree breaks my fall—without it, I would have continued on, right over the edge and into the ravine. But the collision also breaks my bike. The front wheel is bent so badly it can no longer spin. I leave it and scramble back up to the path and run toward home.

  Toward my parents.

  My father is a teacher—he works at a school across the mountains—and my mother is a writer. She also makes the local fleece into all kinds of amazing things. Once she wove me a dreamcatcher the size of my entire ceiling. My father pinned it up into the wooden boards.

  At the top of the mountain pass, I catch my first glimpse of our house.

  It’s on fire.

  The flames are huge, spiking into the sky—a giant pyramid of shimmering fire. Every part of the house is burning.

  “No!” I scream as I run toward it. I can see two fire trucks are down at the final bend on the mountain pass, too big and heavy to get up the steep incline. The crews are running for the house.

  The helicopter has landed nearby. I see my father, normally so tall, stooped and pacing back and forth in front of the house. He looks broken.

  I know then what is happening, what the emergency is.

  I reach the scene at the same time as the fire crew. They have air tanks on their backs and masks over their faces so that they can breathe despite the dense smoke. Some have axes in their hands, others carry extinguishers. They smash through the front door and rush inside. I run to follow them but the heat gets too intense. I hear my father calling my name.

  I turn as he crashes into me and drags me back away from the inferno.

  “Mama!” I shout.

  “There is nothing you can do, son,” my father says into my ear as he holds me.

  “Mama!” I struggle against him but he clings tight, his strong arms wrapped around me.

  “Shh …” he says. “Shh …”

  Suddenly, firefighters burst out of the house. Fire and ash coat their suits and face masks. They are carrying someone.