The Search for Artemis (The Chronicles of Landon Wicker)

by Griffith, P. D.

  Mrs. Wicker smiled and looked at Landon, her little boy, endearingly. “I’m constantly surprised at how perceptive you are. Never lose that, okay? Always keep your eyes open and ask questions. You’ll hear this often, but it’s true—never judge a book by its cover. You have to dig deep and look within to discover what’s hidden inside.”

  Landon looked at her, confused, as he had no idea what she was talking about.

  “Landon, it’s like Treasure Island,” Mrs. Wicker continued. “This book has been through a lot. It survived a fire. The cover is torn and tattered. If we took it at face value, we’d assume it was garbage and just throw it away, but then we would’ve missed the adventure that sends our imagination to the wondrous places hidden inside. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Books are good?” Landon eagerly replied.

  “Yes.” Mrs. Wicker laughed. “Books are good. That’s exactly right. Books are good.”

  Mrs. Wicker got out of the bed and went around to Landon’s side. She tucked him into his sheets, kissed him on the forehead and said, “Goodnight, my little man. I love you so very much.” Giving her son one last longing glance, she pulled away from the bed, but just as her fingers slipped from Landon’s cheeks, she stopped. She tilted her head to the side and had a strange glint in her eyes, a wondrous one as if she’d just come to some profound realization. “You know, you’re going to do great things some day. I can see it. Amazing, unbelievable things,” she said. “But remember, greatness never comes without struggles, so if you ever feel lost, need guidance or just a place to get away from it all, look to the books.” She pulled away from Landon as tears welled up in her eyes and silently made her way to the door.

  Once she’d reached it, she apprehensively unlocked the door and turned the handle. With a delicate flip of the light switch, she shut off the reading lamp on Landon’s bedside table and walked out into the living room. As she shut the door, Landon heard his father say coarsely, “There you are!”

  When Landon woke up, he had no idea what time it was. He knew he’d been out for a while because his muscles felt limp and he was groggy—not the result of a thirty-minute power nap.

  As he stood up, he closed his eyes and held on to the lingering image of his mother that he’d just seen in his dream. He wished he could relive that memory over and over again and feel as if she was still there, but he knew that was impossible. Heading out of the Library, Landon searched for a clock; he needed to find out how much time was left until his first mission started. He had a duty to complete, a duty where he would be asked to do amazing and unbelievable things on which he couldn’t renege.

  He soon discovered that it was already 7:30; he’d somehow slept for over six hours. In a way he was glad he’d been out for so long. It meant he wasn’t spending his time brooding, but it also meant he needed to head straight to the Olympic Tower and begin suiting up for the mission. He no longer had time for dinner because in less than two hours he would be in the air headed to Metis Labs.

  Entering the locker room, Landon found Cortland and the Crane twins already there pulling on their full-body, all-black tactical uniforms. Landon made his way straight for his station without saying anything. Upon opening the locker door, Landon found his own tactical uniform, complete with a pair of black shoes and a small box with his standard-issue communication link earpiece resting atop his typical change of clothes. A twinge of excitement coursed through him, elevating his pulse. This is really happening, he thought. I’m now part of the team.

  Setting the comm. link aside, he pulled the shoes off the top. He was surprised how light they were. They had thin, flexible soles; the tops were made of a durable black material, and black laces ran up the center but disappeared into the side of the shoe. Landon knew that once he put them on, they would automatically tighten and adjust to fit perfectly—another Pallas Corporation technology. They probably weighed under an ounce. Setting them on the bench behind him, he figured they were similar to what an acrobat or tightrope walker would wear.

  The suits were even more interesting. He had learned all about them during his training. They were made of a fabric developed by the Pallas Corporation that used a carbon fiber that regulated body heat and was also more durable than Kevlar. The suit was bulletproof, and on the left breast, in black rubber, the Pantheon eagle was attached. Many times he’d seen the uniform on his other teammates, but he’d never touched one, so he was surprised to find that the fabric seemed soft and comfortable. He’d always figured it would be some coarse cloth that was stiff like canvas and itchier than wool on a warm day.

  Excitedly, Landon laid the suit over the bench and started to undress, shedding each layer until he was in only his underwear. He then grabbed the suit and started to look for the zipper, fastener or whatever would open it up for him to don it. He scoured every inch, but couldn’t find anything of the sort.

  “It took me an hour to figure it out,” Cortland chimed in and then began to laugh as he watched a half-naked Landon develop a panicked look on his face as he searched the suit for an answer. “The engineers think it’s funny. They tell you all about the things in training but never mention how you’re supposed to put ’em on.”

  “Well? What’s the secret?” Landon asked.

  “There’s a little button,” he answered, “inside the left wrist, just past the cuff. It deactivates the nano-zipper.”

  Landon put his hand into the left sleeve of the suit and felt around the cuff. After a second of searching, he noticed a tiny dot that was slightly raised and made of a different material. Using his thumb as a support on the outside of the fabric, he pressed the button. Suddenly, the back of the suit from the neckline to the tailbone began to divide in a perfect line. It was like the seam on the side of a t-shirt getting ripped apart, but it happened without assistance.

  Landon looked at it in wonder. Apparently the suit had more tricks than he realized.

  “How does that work?” he asked.

  “The nano-zipper? I have no idea how they did it, but how they explained it to me was that each thread has a clasp that attaches to its pair on the other half of the zipper, so it becomes a single piece of fabric again.” As he spoke, Cortland sat down on the wooden bench and made himself comfortable. “There’s some kind of practical reason for having it, but I can’t remember what it is.”

  Using the bench as a support, Landon threaded his legs into the now available leg holes of the suit, and after taking a moment to shift and adjust the bottom half, he maneuvered the front up to his chest and slid his arms into the sleeves. With another press of the button in the left wrist of the suit, the nano-zipper reengaged and sealed him into his tactical uniform. It took him a while to feel normal in it. It wasn’t that he was self-conscious, but more so that he had never worn anything that tight in his life. The suit was made to serve as a second-skin, so it conformed to his body and molded itself around every contour of his physique.

  Sitting on the bench, he slipped on the shoes, and when he stood up, he could feel the internal technologies activate as the laces and insoles calibrated and adjusted to his feet. Energized by the experience of suiting up for the first time, Landon bounced around in place and swung his arms up and down and back and forth while raising his knees up to his chest. Like a swimmer before diving into the pool, he was doing a little ballistic stretching to loosen up, but moments later the excitement wore off. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared pensively at the floor.

  “Just hit you, huh?” Cortland asked in reaction to Landon’s sudden shift in mood. He stood up and walked over to Landon. Giving him an encouraging brotherly shove, he continued, “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. It’s not like we’re going to run into Artemis or anything.”

  Landon’s head shot up and turned to look Cortland dead in the eye. “What did you say?” he asked earnestly.

  �
�That you’ve got nothing to worry about. This is a routine—”

  “No,” Landon interrupted. “About Artemis. Who is that?” Landon’s mind raced, but he fought to maintain his composure. He’d been searching for an opportunity to ask someone in the Pantheon about her, but he’d never expected someone else to breach the subject for him. Now that it was on the table, he needed to find out what Cortland knew. Could he know the identity of Artemis? After all this time, could it have been that easy?

  “You don’t know?” he asked. Landon could see the excitement building in Cortland’s eyes. He leaned in closer and explained, “She’s the Pantheon’s top threat. This whole last year she keeps popping up and sabotaging our missions. She keeps to the shadows, moving undetected, waiting for her opportunity to strike. She’s a master of the spy game.” Cortland spoke about her with utmost reverence. “She even broken into the Gymnasium last fall and stole some top secret project the scientists were working on.”

  As Cortland talked, Landon’s mind reeled. The thief, the girl who he’d chased through the halls in the middle of the night and who’d pinned him to the door, was Artemis. He knew they were connected. Even then, he could feel it in his gut, but now he knew for certain that they were one and the same.

  “But who is she?” Landon pried. “You’ve identified her right?”

  “Ha, I wish,” Cortland replied laughingly. “We’ve been trying to track her down and get anything we can on her for months.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “She’s like a ghost. I think the higher ups are really starting to worry about her.”

  “You should worry, too.” Brock chimed in on their conversation as he walked past on his way to his locker. Without turning to speak, he added, “Especially on this mission.”

  “Why’s that?” Cortland inquired.

  Brock slipped off his shoes and removed his shirt. “Because latest intel said they think she works for Metis Labs, and where are we headed tonight?”

  “Well, then I take back what I said, Apollo. Maybe you do have to worry about running into Artemis tonight.”

  Landon was speechless. He’d been going about his search all wrong. Every woman on his list of suspects was someone within the Gymnasium. When Dr. Pullman said to find her, he figured she had to be someone he had access to, but as it turned out, Artemis was someone who operated on the outside. Finding her just became more complicated.

  “Hey, why haven’t I heard about her before?” Landon asked. “I’ve been on the Pantheon for almost six months. Why haven’t you guys mentioned it until now?”

  “Because, roomie, until today you weren’t actually a member of the Pantheon.” Brock replied bluntly. “Stuff about missions or Artemis or anything for that matter is meant for active team members, not trainees.”

  “It’s Apollo, not roomie, and I’m not a trainee anymore,” Landon said combatively.

  “And now you know, don’t you, roomie?” With his tactical uniform half on, Brock stepped directly up to Landon, towering over him.

  Not backing down, Landon stood as tall as he could and glared contentiously back at Brock. “It’s Apollo,” he reiterated through gritted teeth.

  Brock started to lean closer, but fell back when Dr. Brighton entered the locker room.

  “All right, guys, up to the Stable ASAP. Wings up in thirty.” Dr. Brighton looked at Brock and Landon with a forceful glare. “Ares, is there a problem?” he asked.

  “No, sir,” Brock replied. “No problem.”

  “I didn’t think so.” The authority Dr. Brighton imposed as Zeus was unyielding and accepted without question. “Now finish suiting up and get up to the Stable.”

  Leaving Brock alone in the locker room, Landon, Cortland and the Cranes made their way to the hangar a minute or two behind Dr. Brighton. As the lift stopped on the appropriate floor, Peregrine and Parker were already standing beside the Alpha Chariot, waiting for them to arrive.

  Peregrine looked like she was made to be a spy; her cropped blonde hair slicked tightly against her skull and her body perfectly formed in the tight tactical uniform gave her a femme-fatale quality. She’d taken to the Pantheon with much more ease than Landon, and she’d proved herself to be an apt team member. She was much more adept than anyone would have thought. Although she was still not the greatest lifter, Peregrine had become a great asset when it came to stealth and agility.

  As Landon got closer, he noticed she had an anxious but determined look on her face, like the wait for the mission to begin was too much for her to handle. Seeing the aircraft, Landon had a similar feeling running through his body.

  It took around five minutes before Brock emerged from the locker rooms and joined the rest of the Pantheon in the hangar. They then boarded the Alpha Chariot and Dr. Brighton began to prime the engines. Once he’d secured himself into his seat in the back, Landon could feel the almost non-existent hum and vibration that signaled the machine’s activation.

  The aircraft’s interior was like a luxurious version of what Landon had seen on military documentaries. The inner casing was composed of some smooth dark metal and covered in dials, blinking buttons and monitors displaying readings on the external environment. In two columns, five rows of individual leather seats ran down the center. They had high backs and looked sturdy yet comfortable. Everything seemed smooth and new. Trained to fly the aircraft, Dr. Brighton and Brock took the seats at the helm. The Cranes sat behind them, then Cortland and Parker, with Peregrine and Landon taking the seats toward the back.

  “Whatever you do, don’t push the red button.” Cortland was looking back at Landon from his seat a row ahead. He was referring to the two buttons Landon was eyeing on the arm of his chair. There were two of them, one red and the other yellow; Landon’s finger was dangerously close to the red one. “That’s the emergency eject button. The yellow one activates your safety harnesses, so you can push that whenever you’re ready.”

  Landon wondered why no one had told him these things in training yet before cautiously pressing the yellow button. The straps of a five-point harness shot out from the chair, two from above Landon’s shoulders, two from his hip and one jetted up from between his legs. Automatically, they connected at a point around his naval and tightened until he was snugly held in his chair.

  A few minutes later, a powerful ding resonated through the cabin as a bright green light switched on overhead. It was time for takeoff. Landon looked over at Peregrine, who still had an anxious look on her face, but now it was paired with a hint of excitement in her eyes.

  The feeling Landon experienced as the aircraft began to rise was akin to having his insides jerked down to the base of his stomach—it was less than pleasant. Watching their ascent through the window beside him, he took in the moment as the Alpha Chariot rose out of the Stable and hovered above the Gymnasium for a moment. Landon looked down on his home and reflected on the journey that led him to that point. Just nine months ago, he was sitting in his room dreading his return to high school. Now, he was sitting in an advanced government transport heading to his first mission with the Pantheon. Nine months ago he had no idea he was a psychokinetic; he had no idea what he would become.

  As the steel doors on the roof of the Olympic Tower closed, the Alpha Chariot rotated until it was facing a southward direction. Dr. Brighton then put the aircraft into gear and they flew out of the valley into the darkness.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  A SIMPLE

  GRAB-AND-GO

  MISSION

  The entire flight to Metis Labs was silent. No one spoke to each other. While staring into the darkness below, Landon imagined that everyone had a different reason for their personal solitude. Some were probably nervous about the mission, dreaming up all sorts of improbable scenarios and figuring out what they’d do should the situation arise. Others were more than li
kely preoccupied with problems outside the Pantheon, worrying about boys, girls or tests but mentally unaffected by the task at hand. He hoped the reason Dr. Brighton and Brock were not talking was because they were too busy concentrating on piloting.

  No matter what the others were thinking about, Landon just concentrated on the world outside the Alpha Chariot, fighting to see anything amidst the shadow-covered mountains and forests. At one point, he saw an orange glow on the horizon and imagined a towering city whose street lamps, buildings, and cars created the massive aura. For a minute, Landon wondered if it might’ve been his old home. It would seem strange to most, but he almost missed the constant din of the big city that he used to hear even into the late hours of the night.

  After about an hour and a half, the aircraft went into its active stealth mode, sealing the windows to complete its special undetectable casing. There was no confirmation of this, but when the metal stretched over the small glass hole he’d been looking out of, Landon figured they’d entered Metis Labs airspace.

  Before he knew it, Landon felt the weightless sensation that came along with the hovering descent of the Alpha Chariot. Once they had landed, the harness holding Landon disengaged and disappeared back into the seat. Everyone began to stir and got up from their chairs. Dr. Brighton turned from the controls and walked toward the back of the aircraft. With his hand resting on the latch release, he looked back at his team of operatives, anxious to complete another mission.

  “All right, team,” he said, “we’re just over two miles from Metis Labs. Remember, this is a simple grab-and-go mission. If all goes well, we’ll be back in the air in about two hours. No one do anything foolish.”

  He pressed the button and the platform dropped from behind him, creating a ramp out of the rear of the Alpha Chariot and onto the squishy soil of the woodland clearing.