The Twin Powers

by Robert Lipsyte

  “But first,” said Agent Mathison, “what do aliens look like?”

  “Like us,” I said.

  “Who do you know who were aliens?”

  “Dr. Traum, the school psychologist last year. And Hercules, I guess.”

  “You think Tom could be an alien?” asked Agent Quinn. His question came so casually, I wondered if he didn’t remember that I’d already said no.

  Carefully, I said, “I guess anyone could be an alien. You. Her.”

  “Or you,” said Agent Quinn.

  “Nah,” said Agent Mathison. “Aliens don’t pee in their pants.”

  “So,” Agent Quinn continued, “you’re trying to make us believe that neither Tom nor his twin is an alien?”

  “Twin?” That hit me between the eyes. How did they know that?

  “One or both?”

  “No, no, neither of them is an alien.”

  “Neither,” said Agent Quinn, and he high-fived Agent Mathison. “Twins. Now we got it.”

  They cackled as they walked out of the room. They left the music and the lights on. I closed my eyes and tried to fall into space. I wanted to go to sleep and not wake up.

  Thirty-two

  TOM

  EN ROUTE TO CAPE CANAVERAL, FLA.

  2012

  ON the helicopter, I tried to get into the Lump’s mind, but it was like the inside of a computer, all passageways, compartments, and firewalls. I had expected his mind to be sloppy, like him, but he was so focused on the details of the flight—keeping Ronnie, Buddy, and me in our harnesses, giving directions to the pilots over his headset, and looking around for planes that might be following us—that his mind was a humming grid.

  I had a lot of questions but I’d have to wait.

  I’d never been in a chopper before and it was noisier and more uncomfortable than I’d imagined. I couldn’t believe that Ronnie and Buddy were actually dozing. I watched the land change from farm to beach. I saw signs on rooftops for alligator wrestling. We’re definitely in Florida now, I thought. Then I saw a huge airfield with giant hangars. I spotted a rocket ship. We landed.

  My legs were wobbly for a couple of minutes after we climbed out of the chopper and followed the Lump into a building. A guard tried to stop Ronnie from taking Buddy inside, but the Lump showed him a badge and said something in a sharp voice. My hearing wasn’t working yet.

  The Lump led us into a cafeteria. He piled a lot of food onto his tray and gestured for us to do the same. I didn’t have much of an appetite. Neither did Ronnie, but he got food that Buddy would eat. We all got lots of water.

  We were sitting at a table when a tall woman whose shoes made a clacking sound marched up to us. Three guys in dark suits who looked like Agent Brown were behind her.

  The Lump wiped his beard and jumped up. “Director. This is Tom and Ronnie.”

  She squatted down to pat Buddy. “And who are you, you adorable cocker spaniel, you?” The dirty little dog licked her hand. I could see she liked that.

  “That’s Buddy,” said Ronnie.

  “What a sweetheart,” said the director. But she was looking at Ronnie, studying him hard.

  Finally, she stood up. “And the famous Tom.” She gave me a once-over. “On TV, you look more muscular.”

  She scared me. She seemed really tough. And smart. I tried a mind probe but hit cement.

  “Good work, Agent Novak,” she said to the Lump. “The other two kids are on their way. We’re planning liftoff at zero dark thirty.”

  “We’ll be ready,” said the Lump.

  She gave Ronnie and me another round of once-overs, then broke off a piece of the Lump’s hamburger and bent over to feed it to Buddy. The little traitor smiled at her. She bent over farther and kissed the top of his head before she clacked off.

  Ronnie rolled his eyes at me.

  The Lump sat down. “Okay. We’ll have a chance to talk before we go.”

  “Go where? Talk about what?” I said.

  The Lump sighed, and food dribbled out of his mouth onto his red whiskers. “Old times? Didn’t we have fun when I lived in your house?” he said.

  “You kidding? It was a totally crummy experience,” I said.

  “How’s your mom?”

  “Stepmom.”

  “Nice lady. How is she?” He kept smiling as though he wanted to make a friendly connection.

  “Who knows? She’s traveling for her job all the time.”

  “Your grandpa takes good care of you.”

  “What’s on your mind, Lump?”

  Ronnie gave me a strange look but the Lump just nodded. “Okay, how about this. Todd and Alessa are not critical to this operation. I’m their only hope. You cooperate or they evaporate.”

  We need to do something now, Dr. Traum. They’re in trouble.

  The Primary People do not intervene, John. You know that.

  I know it’s wrong not to take responsibility for what we’ve done.

  As your sons would say: whatever.

  I’ll make a deal with you.

  You’re a prisoner, in no position to bargain.

  I will promise to give up the rebellion forever if you keep the boys and their friends safe.

  I can only promise to send them help now.

  That’s good enough, Dr. Traum. The twins can do the rest.

  Thirty-three

  EDDIE

  EN ROUTE TO SOMEWHERE IN NORTHERN VIRGINIA

  2012

  HOP on, Eddie.

  I was only a step ahead of the Browns when I spotted Hercules in a black leather jacket and black helmet on a motorcycle growling at the curb. He tossed me a white helmet. I put it on as I leaped onto the back.

  We have to stop meeting like this. He laughed like a maniac.

  Then we were in traffic. Hercules drove like a maniac.

  Good job, Eddie. You’re finally getting groovy.

  I felt terrific. I forgot I was cold and hungry and had to pee like crazy. We rode over a bridge and out of the city. We rode for a long time, past rows of suburban houses and into farm country. We turned up a two-lane road, then a one-lane dirt road past a farmhouse surrounded by empty fields. I noticed a white van parked outside the farmhouse. Hercules kept going until we came to the woods. He pulled into the trees and stopped. I ran off to pee. When I came back, he was leaning against a tree, his green eyes staring into the distance. I thought I could make out the farmhouse we had seen earlier.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “Concentrate.”

  It was like focusing binoculars at Scout camp. After a while, the white farmhouse grew larger in my sight. Clearer. Powers!

  “What’s going on?”

  “We’ll wait for dark. When the space shuttle to Riverboat arrives for us.”

  “Riverboat?”

  “That’s what Dr. Traum calls our mobile space station. Mark Twain was a riverboat pilot.”

  “Then what?”

  “We’ll hitch a ride to Homeplace.”

  “Dad’s there!” I felt excitement like bubbling water inside me.

  “He’s looking forward to seeing you.”

  “Will Tom be there?” When Hercules nodded, I asked, “What about Ronnie and the others?”

  “You’ll have to get those details from Dr. Traum.”

  “I have a lot of questions.”

  “He’ll answer them. Dr. Traum likes you. He considers you authentic, pure. Sort of like Huckleberry Finn.”

  “How do you know so much about what Dr. Traum thinks?”

  “He and I share a lot of, um, thoughts.” Hercules’s voice got softer as he spoke, and his body relaxed against the tree. I thought he seemed like a teammate, someone on my side. I was feeling more comfortable talking to him.

  “Can you answer some questions?”

  He thought for a moment, then sighed and said, “I’ll try.”

  “So these aliens, Primary People—they created the Earths like God did?”

  “That’s a little heavy, Ed
die. Our scientists designed a number of planets around the universe. But we didn’t create them from scratch. In every case, one planet already existed and we then constructed a second, a clone, some years younger so we could study different species, see how each evolved.”

  I had the weird feeling that Hercules was sounding like Dr. Traum.

  “In Earth’s case, the original—EarthOne, Tom’s planet—existed for billions of years before we moved in. Turns out, human beings were the most complicated of the creatures we studied. Made the most trouble for themselves.”

  “So who made the Primary People?”

  “That’s what we hoped to find out from these studies. The secrets of the universe. We didn’t create human beings, Eddie—we copied them so we could study them. Dr. Traum took particular interest in the United States because it’s the most complicated country in the most complicated planet, the one that has the potential to do the most damage and the most good.”

  “The idea of the tour was to get the good going, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  Hercules’s smile encouraged me. I thought I might start understanding things. “So is it going to happen? Are we going to save the Earths?”

  “Doesn’t look too good right now, does it?”

  “I don’t get it. If the Primary People have all these powers, why don’t they save the Earths?”

  Hercules sighed again. “When the Primary People began their scientific experiments, the Supreme Council made a law that could not be broken. We would never intervene in the affairs of a planet we were studying.”

  “You would just stand there and let terrible things happen?”

  “I know it sounds cruel, but we had to stay scientists, not gods. We couldn’t make even tiny adjustments that would have made life on the Earths better. You ever hear of the butterfly effect?”

  “No.”

  “Some little thing causes bigger things to happen and changes the course of history. A butterfly beats its wings in a certain way and starts a hurricane. You understand?”

  I was trying to understand when Hercules cocked his head, nodded, and said, “The Riverboat shuttlecraft is in our atmosphere. It’ll be landing soon.”

  I wanted to ask about the others again, even though Hercules had already told me that I’d have to find out details from Dr. Traum. I hadn’t believed Erin when she’d told me everyone had gone home. Apparently I didn’t have to ask again—Hercules was inside my mind and answered my unspoken question.

  “Tom, Ronnie, and Buddy are with your pal the Lump. Your grandfather is on his own, doing some other work for us. Alessa and Todd are being held by government agents in that farmhouse over there.”

  “Let’s bust them out.”

  “I thought you’d never ask, Captain Eddie.”

  Thirty-four

  TOM

  CAPE CANAVERAL, FLA.

  2012

  THE spaceship looked less like a rocket than like two jet airplanes, one riding piggyback on the other. Both had the words FRIENDSHIP ONE painted on their fuselages. They were being fueled from giant trucks marked FRIENDSHIP COMMAND. Dozens of workers in bright blue jumpsuits swarmed over the planes. They all had the word FCOM on their backs.

  “What’s with the ‘Friendship One’?” I asked.

  “It means we come in peace,” said the Lump.

  “Do you?”

  “I do. I hope they do, too,” said the Lump. The way he said it, I didn’t think he believed it either.

  “Those things really go into space?” asked Ronnie.

  “The big question is,” said the Lump, “do they come back? They haven’t been fully tested yet. Now there’s no time.”

  “So we’re the guinea pigs,” said Ronnie.

  “More like hostages,” I said.

  “Right,” said the Lump. “We figure the aliens won’t shoot us down if you’re on board.”

  I imagined Ronnie thinking, You figure wrong, Lump. Dr. Traum is as big a snake as you are.

  I looked at Ronnie. Something in his eyes told me I hadn’t imagined that.

  I felt nervous. How much did the Lump know? I still couldn’t get into his head. I wondered where Eddie was. I hadn’t dared try to make contact with him while the Lump was nearby. The Lump had an equipment bag hanging from his shoulder with a wire going up into his ear. If he could monitor space chatter between Homeplace and the Earths, he might be able to pick up transmissions between Eddie and me.

  Just thinking about Eddie started me vibrating, from my toes right up to my scalp. It felt as though Eddie was inside a washing machine. Or maybe on a motorcycle.

  “Saddle up,” said the director. She was wearing a blue FCOMjumpsuit too.

  “Aren’t we waiting for a couple more?” said the Lump. He looked puzzled and I thought his mind might be open for a second or two. I probed in fast. I got pictures of Britzky and Alessa.

  “Can’t wait,” said the director. She looked grim. When the Lump shot her a questioning look, she gave him one of those not-now head shakes.

  I stabbed into her mind. I imagined No word from Mathison and Quinn. What did that mean?

  We followed the director and the Lump up a long metal ladder into the piggyback plane. Inside, it looked less like a regular plane than like a smaller version of the bridge of the Starship Enterprise from Star Trek. People in blue jumpsuits were sitting at banks of dials and levers under walls of screens. In the middle of the main bridge were five big swivel chairs. Two men and a woman were already seated. The director and the Lump took the end chairs.

  Armed guards led Ronnie, Buddy, and me to seats in the back of the bridge.

  The guy in the middle seat—the pilot, I figured—leaned over toward the director and said, “Good to go.”

  “How long’s the trip?” she asked.

  “We’re only going up to the edge of space, the Karman line, about sixty-two miles above Earth’s surface,” said the pilot.

  “That’s where the aliens have been transmitting and receiving from,” said the Lump.

  “They better be there,” said the director. “Or Agent Novak walks home.”

  The pilot and the crew laughed, but the Lump shrugged and said, “Something’s there. It could be a planet, a space platform, maybe a guy in an inner tube floating along with a solar cell phone.”

  Even I laughed. It was the only funny thing I’d ever heard the Lump say. But his face was serious. The director wasn’t laughing. She gave me the chills.

  Thirty-five

  ALESSA

  SOMEWHERE IN NORTHERN VIRGINIA

  2012

  AGENT Mathison shoved me into the van, harder than she had to. I bumped my knee. I could feel skin scrape off.

  Britzky was curled up in the back of the van, his knees up to his chest, his head jammed between his knees. His arms were folded over his head. He was a Britzky blob. Every so often, the blob shook, as if he was crying.

  “Have fun, kids,” said Agent Mathison. She slammed the back door and climbed behind the wheel. She was yelling at Agent Quinn to hurry up so they could phone in the news about the twins.

  I lost it. I started crying too. I had never felt so sad and low and helpless. I had betrayed my friends, the only people who could help us.

  Agent Quinn climbed into the passenger seat, complaining about his cell phone. No reception. Agent Mathison gunned the van and peeled out. I fell backwards and banged my head against the van’s back door.

  I smelled a bathroom kind of stink. Urine. I noticed a dark, damp-looking stain on Britzky’s pants. Ewww. Then I felt bad, realizing how terrible he must have felt. Poor Britzky, the tough guy. They must have really worked him over.

  Woman up, Lessi! Got to be strong. He’s going to need your help. You’re going to need his help.

  Britzky stirred. His head came up. He looked awful—eyes red, skin gray, forehead zits like an LED board. He mumbled something.

  I scooted on my butt over to him on the ridged cold metal floor. I timed my s
coots to the rocking of the speeding van.

  “I told them,” blubbered Britzky.

  “What?” I said. But I knew. I was glad it wasn’t only me.

  “Twins. Couldn’t help it.”

  “Me too.”

  Now we were both crying. Britzky’s head went back down between his knees.

  I cried myself out. Then I took a deep breath and reached out to Britzky. The urine smell hit me. I didn’t want to hug him, so I put my hands on his knees. Had to buck him up.

  “I need you, Todd,” I said.

  Slowly, his head came up again. I could almost see Britzky struggling to pull himself together. His shoulders straightened. He wiped his runny nose on the sleeve of his Tech Off! hoodie. He was a total mess. Like me.

  He beckoned me closer. I tried to close my nostrils without touching them, then thought, Get past it, Lessi.

  He whispered into my ear, “You say anything about them being half aliens?” When I shook my head, he said, “Me neither. That’s something.”

  The van was racing and Agent Quinn was shouting curses. “Still no cell reception.”

  Agent Mathison said, “We’ll be out of the boonies in a few minutes.”

  “Hey. There’s also no power in my cell.”

  Agent Mathison made a noise through her nose. “I told you to make sure it was charged.”

  “I did.”

  “Here.” Through the cage I saw her hand him her phone.

  Agent Quinn said, “No juice in yours, either.”

  Agent Mathison cursed. “I’ll stop in a minute. I’ve got a charger in my bag.”

  “Don’t you think we better call in the twin intel ASAP?”

  “Yeah, but I want to lose these jerks on my tail. There’s a gas station a mile up.”

  The van slowed. I got my head up in time to see a motorcycle whip past us. There were two guys on the bike and there was something familiar about them.

  My heart actually leaped, like in the vampire novels I used to read.

  I hugged Britzky. “It’s going to be all right.”