by Andy Briggs
A minute’s silence passed between them, Toby deep in thought, Pete in an agony of guilt. Finally Pete summoned the courage to speak again.
“Look, it’s only been about an hour since we were there. Chances are that Tempest hasn’t even returned to his secret base! Besides, you know how difficult these powers are to control.”
Toby slid the cup onto the table and cradled his head in his hands. He felt miserable.
“We have to think this through,” said Pete, regarding his friend sympathetically.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we still have powers. We’ve got them for the whole day.” One of the advantages of them paying for the powers was the time they could retain them, in addition to the greater choice on offer.
“Which means we can still save your mom and Emmie,” said Pete with conviction.
“And Lorn.”
“Mmm, yeah.”
Toby looked up sharply and Pete felt his stomach churn. Then he noticed that Toby was almost wearing a smile. “Emmie?”
Pete looked away quickly. “Shut up.” Finding the Web site had given Pete a confidence he had been lacking. In private he had flexed his muscles in the mirror, and he was sure there was a slight twitch in his biceps.
Toby’s thoughts turned dark again. “Do you realize just how big Antarctica is?” He thrust himself back in the chair.
“Yes, it’s a continent,” retorted Pete. “But are you forgetting we have this?”
With a flourish, he placed Tempest’s broken command wristband on the table. Toby didn’t move, but his eyes fixed on it.
“Have you found out how to use it?”
Pete looked away, prodding the device with his finger. “No … but parts of it work.” He strapped it to his wrist and the screen immediately lit up. He held it up to show Toby the cracked display. It simply showed an arrow—with the words “SUPPLY CONVOY LOADING.”
“What use is that? What does it even mean?”
Pete flicked on the television in the kitchen. The news was reporting on the hurricane that had flattened Fort Knox, and a White House spokesman was assuring a press conference that it was just a weather abnormality and the U.S. gold reserves still were perfectly intact.
“That’s right, intact in somebody else’s pocket,” mumbled Toby.
The White House spokesman skillfully spun the press conference toward the threat of global warming, and away from the fact that the country was almost bankrupt.
The news report switched to a confused meteorologist who stood in front of a giant satellite image of the storm.
“Now the weather system has performed an extraordinary U-turn and is heading out to sea at an incredible speed … I’ve never seen anything like this before!” Toby glanced at Pete, who was also listening intently. The weather woman continued as computer graphics overlaid the hurricane with speeds and wind directions.
“The storm must be trapped in an atmospheric super jet stream. Over land the winds have died almost to nothing as the storm passed back into the Gulf of Mexico. Although ground damage is high—never before has a storm moved with such speed—at this time official estimates are …”
The woman hesitated on-screen as she read the teleprompter that rolled invisibly across the camera. To Toby and Pete it looked as if she was staring right at them. “A thousand miles per hour and increasing? Of course that’s impossible—”
Pete turned the television off. Toby threw him an angry glance.
“Hey! I was watching that!”
“No, you were feeling sorry for yourself! Think! We’re heroes! Heroes have good times and bad times—but they don’t sulk about it.” He waved a comic for emphasis.
Toby shook his head. “So the storm’s gone! We know he’s headed back to a base somewhere in Antarctica—but that still doesn’t help us. I bet he’ll be there by now.”
Pete sighed but said nothing. Instead he stared at the wristband. “If only it worked,” he thought, “we could have maybe figured out a way to track Tempest down—”
The arrow on the wristband’s screen pointed over Toby’s left shoulder. Pete frowned. “The arrow’s pointing that way.”
“Are you trying to tell me that Doc Tempest’s secret base is in your kitchen?” Toby quipped.
Pete said nothing. Instead he turned himself completely around. The arrow remained true, pointing beyond Toby’s shoulder. The flicker of a smile started to crack Pete’s face. “It’s pointing the way!”
“Huh?”
“The arrow will take us straight to him!” Pete said with a trace of pride at his discovery. “Whatever the ‘supply line’ is, it will lead us to Tempest and the others!”
When Toby and Pete escaped, Doc Tempest had thrown a tantrum. He glared at Emily; at least he had a prisoner. But his temper further exploded when he realized that his other barge was damaged beyond repair and there was still half the gold left in the vault.
The thieves had all grouped together close to the undamaged barge as Doc Tempest manipulated his small wristband, and a giant yellow shimmering shield radiated around his entire fleet, generated by some technical gizmo inside the carrier.
Tempest snarled at his men, ordering them to shackle Emily and then imprison her when they arrived back at the base. He gave a disparaging smile, revealing his fanglike teeth, and Emily briefly wondered if he’d ever used a toothbrush on them.
“You’re an addition to my insurance plan if those friends of yours try anything again! Now that I have two hostages, I can afford to kill one of you.”
Numerous thoughts swirled through Emily’s mind. She was starting to worry that she would never see her family again. Never have the chance to explain about her adventures. She poked the thoughts away. She was an optimist and knew that while she was alive, there was hope. She refused to show any fear to Doc Tempest.
“Doc Tempest? Doctor of what exactly? I doubt you’ve had any medical training in your life. And how did your head get like that?”
With a bark of resentment Tempest stomped off, barking orders to his men, presumably to organize getting the stolen gold back to base. While the guards had waited for the glue to soften, Emily futilely struggled against it. She couldn’t get free no matter how much she kept transforming herself into living metal and back, but it was a trick that amused the guards. She knew that her other downloaded powers involved her hands, but as soon as they were free a guard had slapped a solid pair of handcuffs on her wrists and thumbed a four-digit number on a keypad. A light flickered and the cuffs automatically tightened on her wrist. She suddenly felt weak. Try as she might, she could no longer transform herself into the silver bullet.
The squad smirked at her struggles. “Forget it, darlin’,” one said in a southern drawl. “Latest thing the boss got from a pal of his. Stops them superpowers so you can’t use ’em against me and the guys.”
Emily grunted in frustration but struggled again. “And if you’re thinkin’ of tryin’ to unlock ’em without that code—forget it. It’s my credit card pin number, so you ain’t got a chance!”
“Seven-four-one-three is your pin number?” said Emily, who had been watching carefully. She knew it was stupid to mention it, but it was worth it to see the smile drop from the thug’s face as he quickly looked at his unscrupulous colleagues, who could now use his credit card.
“I’ll be changin’ that as soon as we get back!” he said loudly, grabbing Emily’s wrists and entering another code, making sure she could not see it this time. Then they left her alone.
In the frenetic action she had only had time to think of herself. But now she recalled the last time she’d seen Lorna. Emily went white. Pete had blindly been firing laser bolts from his eyes and Lorna had been in the line of fire. The conclusion slammed into place: Pete might have shot Lorna!
Emily knew it would have been an accident. Pete would never hurt anyone. But where was Lorna now? Was she still alive? Hiding somewhere injured? Emily felt tears roll down her cheeks.
The mercenaries had settled at the edge of the carrier deck, talking about sports and discussing what cars they would buy with the cut they’d be getting from this job. They glanced at Emily, and even though the resin had dissolved, they didn’t seem too bothered about her walking to the edge of the deck and peering down. Anything to take her mind off her overactive imagination.
Beyond the yellow shield, the landscape was moving at such a speed, it was a blur. Almost instantly it changed to deep blue, and Emily guessed they were passing over the sea. The force field around them seemed to cancel out any feeling of movement or cold, especially when the blue blur transformed into plain white. Snow, Emily correctly guessed.
After an hour the craft slowed over a treacherous mountain range, and they approached an oblong opening cut in the rocky peak like a giant letterbox. They passed into an enormous space where Tempest’s soldiers awaited in rows like a well-drilled army.
The barge landed in a specially made berth, and Emily was taken away, only glimpsing Doc Tempest again as he stalked in the opposite direction.
Emily was led through a network of corridors sculpted from ice. She completely lost her sense of direction in the twists and turns. They reached another corridor with about ten sets of identical doors on either side. The guard escorting her opened one of the smooth metal doors and shoved her inside.
“Enjoy your new home!” he sneered as the door slid closed.
Emily looked around the small, windowless ice room. There was a bed with a single blanket on it. It smelled as though a dog had been sleeping on it for a month. She sat down, hoping that help was on its way and that Lorna was safely with Toby and Pete.
* * *
Sarah Wilkinson had been roused from a feverish sleep. A thin film of sweat clung to her and she was starting to tremble. She desperately needed her insulin.
A guard escorted her at gunpoint into a small railcar. The carriage shot along the track and within a minute they had reached their destination, a circular room that she guessed must be at the peak of the mountain.
Doc Tempest was waiting for her, gazing through a set of panoramic windows. Sarah’s planned vitriolic outburst toward her captor died in her throat when she glimpsed the vista beyond the window. Snow blanketed the ground as far as the horizon, the slope of the mountain dipping below her. It was as if they were standing on top of the world. But even as she watched, heavy gray clouds discharged snow that was thickening by the instant. Within moments, the grandiose view was replaced by a savage blizzard.
Doc Tempest turned to face her. Sarah was pale, and had refused to eat the gruel she had been served while locked up. Even though she felt weak, she still looked defiant.
Tempest smirked. “Not feeling so good, eh?”
“I’m diabetic. I need my insulin.”
“Sorry. I’m not that kind of doctor. Can’t help you there.” He gestured outside. “Beautiful weather, though.”
“I prefer somewhere hot.”
“Very soon you will have a choice, my dear,” said Tempest, walking in a wide circle, and holding his arms behind his back like an army general. “You can have a searing hot desert, or a frozen winter wasteland. There will be no middle ground if the governments of the world don’t bow to my wishes!”
“Why do this? It’s madness!”
“Madness? No, it’s power! I control the weather—and soon I will control the world!”
“Like I said, madness.”
Doc Tempest shot her a look of contempt. “Any country that refuses to instate me as their leader will fry under a baking sun, or freeze under a snowdrift a mile high! Which bit of that plan is mad?”
“That’s impossible!”
“Nothing is impossible if you have the motivation and the cash! I’ve always had the motivation and now I have most of the U.S. Federal Reserve. Nothing can go wrong!”
“And what do I have to do with this?” demanded Sarah.
“Your brats have been proving troublesome to my plans.”
“My children?”
Doc Tempest wheeled around, raising his finger in warning.
“Don’t play stupid with me! It’s pointless trying to keep their identities secret. They are a constant nuisance and if they try and interfere again, I swear I will return you to them … one piece at a time.”
Tempest was obviously crazy if he thought her children were any kind of threat. But the warning had stirred a primeval mothering instinct inside Sarah.
“Listen, bucket-head. I have no idea what you’re talking about. My kids are at school. But if you even look at them the wrong way, I will beat you senseless! I’m sure the police are already tracking you down, you freak.”
Doc Tempest grabbed her wrists and Sarah shrieked as an intense chill ran through her arms. She tried to pull away, but she was too weak and the villain had a vicelike grip. She watched in horror as frost drifted painfully across her hands.
“Stop!” she whimpered.
Tempest released her, and the warmth slowly trickled back into her flesh. He scowled. “You have been warned!”
Doc Tempest’s boots thumped heavily across the floor as he strode away from her, across the command center.
Sarah was dragged away, back toward the railcar. The guard shoved her inside. The door closed, or rather attempted to close, but opened again.
“Stupid door,” grumbled the guard as he thumbed the button irritably. The pod door swished closed on the second attempt.
Sarah sensed acceleration, and soon they were shooting around the edge of the mountain again. She vigorously rubbed her wrists and she shivered as she recalled the sensation of her blood freezing in her veins. She was completely baffled by that last conversation. Her children? What did her children have to do with this monster?
She didn’t have time to muse for long. The railcar pulled up and the door slid open—then the guard did a very strange thing.
He raised his rifle in front of him with a confused expression, shook it, then forced the butt of the weapon against his own face so hard that he was lifted off his feet and fell against the wall of the pod, where he lay unconscious.
Sarah looked around, bewildered, but not for long. She was alone, with the sudden possibility of escape.
Using all her strength she dragged the unconscious guard from the car and took his resin-rifle. She stepped back inside the car, slumped on the seat, and thumbed the button, hoping it would take her to freedom.
The temperature had plummeted as Toby and Pete flew south, arms extended to streamline themselves and increase their speed. They couldn’t teleport, since they had no idea exactly where they were going, so they had reluctantly flown. Pete thought they were going faster than sound, and silently wondered if it would still be possible to talk.
The silent flight had them both lost in thought. Toby was imagining a fond reunion with his mother and Lorna. But how long could Sarah last without her medication? For reassurance he touched his pocket that held his mother’s insulin kit. When he thought of Lorna he felt rotten for suppressing her desire to use the powers to gain some fame. Maybe if he had just let her, then she wouldn’t be missing now? Perhaps none of them would be in this mess.
Pete was battling his feelings of guilt. He kept repeating that it was an accident. He tried to persuade himself that it was Lorna’s fault for getting in his way—but he couldn’t. And when he wasn’t thinking about Lorna, he was feeling sick because he had let Tempest’s gold slip through his fingers … what other good things would he have to miss out on? Before the flight was halfway over, he’d convinced himself that accepting Tempest’s offer would have made him feel less guilty over what happened to Lorna.
Pete and Toby had been following the direction indicated by the arrow for almost three hours, and now the light was fading. Already they both agreed they should have worn warmer clothing, especially when they knew their ultimate destination would be supremely cold.
For some time they had been over water, so there was no discernible sense of p
rogression, aside from a plump full moon that slowly glided across the sky ahead of them. Lights appeared on the horizon, marking a small island. Within minutes they zipped past the island, and Pete drew himself up in a wide arc, studying the wristband. Toby followed his friend as he doubled back. Pete pointed to the device excitedly.
“It’s here! The arrow’s pointing here!” The arrow on the display revolved so it was constantly pointing toward the landmass.
Toby felt his hopes rise. “Let’s go down … but be careful!”
Closer inspection of the island revealed it to be nothing more than a clump of barren mountains and long-extinct volcanoes, inaccessible from the sea. A wide plateau offered enough room for a long landing strip and several large hangars. They could see people walking around the back of a large Hercules transport plane that sat on the runway. Forklift trucks were loading square supply pallets under the harsh glare of floodlights.
Toby and Pete landed on a slope that offered a clear view of the proceedings.
“The supply link,” whispered Pete. “Doc Tempest and his men have to eat. This is where they ship it all in.”
Toby nodded. “So these planes are carrying supplies straight to him! All we have to do is stow away on board and they’ll take us to his secret base. Come on!”
Toby jumped to his feet and scrambled down the slope. Black scree rolled underfoot and made it tough going, and he almost lost his balance on more than one occasion. He kept to the shadows so as not to be seen.
When he reached the flat concrete surface of the plateau, Pete was already there, shaking his head.
“It was easier flying down!”
They were close to one of the five big hangars situated at the end of the runway. The hangar directly across from them contained another Hercules: the engines were surrounded by scaffolding, and maintenance crews were tinkering with the various gears and electronics. The closest hangar had rows of wooden pallets loaded with boxes, standing as tall as the boys, and covered in canvas webbing to hold them together; others were being built up a box at a time by ground crews wearing the familiar gray uniform. Luckily the crews were at the far end of the hangar, which was as wide as a football field is long.
