Perilous: A Ripple Novel (Ripple Series Book 7)

by Cidney Swanson

  Owen was turning slowly, examining the room and shaking his head. “Something’s wrong,” he said.

  A cold chill filled Georg’s belly. “What?” he demanded.

  Owen ran a hand along the back of his neck. “The place has been ransacked. It didn’t look like this when I was here an hour ago.”

  “Ransacked?” asked Georg.

  “Yes,” said Owen, pushing one of the cupboard doors shut. It made a loud clicking sound that echoed in the still room.

  “It’s begun, then,” muttered Raoul. “The looting. Just like on the island.”

  “There is always disruption to society in times of great change,” said Georg. But the words weren’t as reassuring this time. With dread, he thought of all the decades that lay ahead as he and his group traveled to every land, to every country. Decades and decades of disruption upon disruption. Was he wrong to walk this path?

  Owen’s phone rang loudly. “Hello?” Owen looked to Georg. “It’s Sanyim.”

  “Give him directions to this laboratory,” said Georg.

  After Owen had completed the call, he turned to Georg. “Sanyim made it to the outskirts of town, and he’ll be here in a minute.”

  Georg nodded, all doubts pushed aside in the face of his need to understand what was happening with his “patient zero.”

  But when Sanyim arrived, describing how he’d begun to lose his ability to disappear four weeks earlier, Georg’s doubts returned louder than ever. Again, he pushed them aside, addressing Sanyim as a siren wailed outside.

  A few of the Angels walked to look out the windows.

  “Four weeks ago, and you didn’t think to contact me until now?” demanded Georg.

  Sanyim shrugged and looked down. “I was hoping to recover on my own. But now … I’m destitute,” he admitted. “I didn’t know where else to turn after I spent the last of, well, the last of the money I stole.”

  Raoul sighed heavily, mumbling something that sounded like, you, too?

  For the next hour and a half, Georg worked feverishly, testing and retesting, hoping to find evidence that Sanyim was wrong or lying or anything other than … correct. But half a dozen tests confirmed the lack of the caméleon gene in Sanyim’s system.

  The other Angels stood muttering in one corner of the lab. Georg was suddenly sick of them all. He needed to think. He needed silence.

  On an impulse, he turned and uttered Helmann’s password out loud. “Helisaba est morta!” A few of the Angels turned to see what Georg was doing, but none of them fell asleep.

  Georg cursed in silence. So much for his hope that the wake up password was the same as the fall asleep password.

  Raoul rose and opened one of the windows. “Do you hear that?”

  When Georg didn’t respond, Raoul repeated his question. “Georg, do you hear that?”

  Georg turned to listen to the clamor outside that had been growing the past two hours.

  “It’s happening all over again,” said Raoul. “The rioting. The looting. The killings. Can you hear them, Georg? You said it would be different here—that these people have everything they need, but guess what? It’s not any different!”

  Raoul looked at Georg with disgust.

  Georg had no response.

  “I’m through with this,” said Raoul. “The rest of you can do what you want, but I’m through helping. From now on, I will fight against you if you try to bring this … this … chaos to anyone else. Do you hear me, Georg?”

  Georg said nothing. His eyes were fixed, unseeing, upon the floor.

  Raoul vanished. Three of the other angels vanished with him. Then two more. Only Owen remained.

  “What do you want to do?” asked Owen.

  What did he want to do? What do I want to do?

  He wanted to be left alone. He wanted silence.

  Without answering, Georg dematerialized.

  50

  THEY’LL KNOW YOU FOR WHAT YOU ARE

  Sam had lost count of the number who turned up to hear Bridget Li as she addressed the citizens of Las Abuelitas in her low, steady voice. There were hundreds and the crowd was still growing, spilling from Main Street into the high school parking lot just across the street.

  “The main thing is to stay calm,” said Bridget, her own voice modeling what she suggested. “We face the same choices that the residents of Milagros faced. But we don’t have to act in the same ways. They were starving to death—literally starving to death—as well as having already had their livelihoods and homes destroyed by the hurricanes. I shudder to think what I might do to protect my own daughter, to put food and clean water in her belly.” Bridget paused to let the statement sink in.

  “But we’re not facing starvation,” continued Bridget Li.

  “Speak for yourself,” shouted an angry voice from the back of the crowd.

  Sam felt her pulse quicken, but Bridget handled the situation masterfully and compassionately.

  “I do speak for myself, Jeffrey Bennet,” she said. “But I also welcome you to come by the bakery if you’re hungry. I promise you won’t go home empty-handed.” She surveyed the crowd. “And that goes for everyone here. If you’re hungry, we’ve got programs in place. No forms to fill out, no questions asked. Bring your kids, too. Especially, bring those kids. Talk to Fire Chief Williams if you have questions.

  “As for the rest of you, I can’t make choices for you. I can’t stop you from stealing my new flat screen or the winter coat I spent way too much on at Christmas. Heck,” she broke off, laughing. “I’ve seen what ripplers can do. I can’t stop anyone from making the choice to destroy the fabric of this town. But is that what we want? Do you want to use this to get rich quick? Okay, go ahead. There’s over nine hundred dollars in the donations jar sitting on the bakery counter by the register. Take it.”

  Sam inhaled sharply. What was Bridget thinking?

  “Be my guest. Take the money. And live the rest of your life in the knowledge that everyone in this town will know you for what you are, because you’ll have to come solid to steal it, and the bakery’s going to be open twenty-four-seven providing free coffee for volunteers until this crisis is past.”

  The crowd was silent.

  “Where do we volunteer to help?” called a woman in front.

  “See Fire Chief Williams,” answered Bridget. “And now, I’d like to invite Samantha Ruiz, my daughter Gwyn, and Mackenzie Baker to come up here and share vital information with you.”

  Mickie shook her head when Bridget tried to hand her the microphone. Gwyn declined as well, passing the mike to Sam, who began explaining the potential dangers to children and the antidote program that was ready to address the crisis. Sam thought the residents were taking things pretty well. Other than the earlier complaint by Mr. Bennet, there was an absence of heckling or threats.

  But just as she was feeling like disaster might be averted, Sam heard a woman shrieking.

  “Cody? Cody? Come back here right now!” The woman looked around wild-eyed. “Where’s my son?” she demanded, hurling the question at Mickie, Sam, and Gwyn.

  The crowd parted as the woman approached the front.

  “Oh, no,” murmured Gwyn.

  “Antonia,” said Bridget softly. “Her husband was just killed in action overseas.”

  “Is she … unstable?” asked Sam.

  “With her husband just killed?” asked Bridget. “What do you think?”

  The woman’s cries continued. “Where’s my child?” she demanded. “Give him back!”

  Gwyn whispered to Sam. “Ma tried to organize a Meal Train for Antonia, and Antonia told Ma to shove it up her—well, you get the idea.”

  “Where’s my son? Give me back my son!” Antonia snarled, fixing her eyes on Sam.

  “Antonia,” began Bridget, stepping down to speak to her.

  “Get away from me! I don’t need your pity!” snapped Antonia, dashing away, still calling for her son.

  Sam spoke into the microphone. “I propose we get started w
ith the antidotes right away,” she said. “Kids two and under, first, please. Oh, and tell them they can pick a cookie.”

  There was a rush of parents carrying infants and toddlers.

  “That’s our cue,” said Sam. “Mick, you and Gwyn deliver the meds, and I’ll keep things organized out front with Bridget’s help.”

  “This better work,” said Mick, eyeing the swelling crowd.

  51

  SUCH A DISAPPOINTMENT

  Georg paced invisibly in Pfeffer’s home, recalling the sound of his uncle’s voice. Although he couldn’t remember Pfeffer having said anything particularly cruel, as had his other uncles, in Georg’s mind, Pfeffer’s tone was disapproving.

  And if Pfeffer’s was disapproving, Aunt Helga’s was filled with disappointment and disgust.

  You’ll never amount to anything.

  Worthless idiot! Try again.

  This, from some failed task his siblings learned more quickly than he did. Georg ran an invisible hand along a steel countertop. Visions of needles and punishment in association with cold steel counters sent his mind reeling. Outside. He had to get outside.

  You’re worthless.

  Aunt Helga’s sneer, the puff of her cigarette smoke in his face, making him cough.

  Out of my sight, coward.

  And he’d run. How he’d run! And how he’d cried. There were rumors of what happened to those who weren’t brave enough or fast enough or willing enough. Georg wasn’t brave. Georg couldn’t sleep when the sky flashed lightning. Hansel had told him to close his eyes and ignore it.

  As if.

  But Katrin … Katrin had held his shaking hands in hers and told him stories that took his mind off the hideous claps of thunder, the terrifying flashes of lightning.

  Katrin.

  He should never have left her behind. She would have scolded him for what he’d done, but after her rage had passed, she would have held him close, told him everything would work out, somehow. He remembered her words after one of Father Helmann’s grueling tests. They’d had to swim in three foot swells for an hour, then two hours, then three. Georg would have drowned if not for Katrin’s assistance. She had shrugged it off that night, saying they were supposed to be good at saving people from drowning, weren’t they? Georg had helped her find out she could save someone from drowning.

  You’re better than any of them, she’d whispered that night. You’re independent. You think for yourself. One day you’ll do something amazing. You’ll see.

  But she’d been wrong.

  He had meant to amaze the world. He’d meant to change it, forever, for the better. But he’d failed. Sanyim couldn’t ripple. Sanyim and Owen were still talking inside Pfeffer’s lab. Georg couldn’t bear to join them. Didn’t Owen see the truth? That the whole project had failed? The other Angels had seen it. They’d recognized the truth and fled, leaving Georg alone.

  A shiver coursed through his invisible form.

  He was alone again. He would always be alone. Katrin would leave him when she heard how abysmally he had failed.

  He heard voices. They’d been growing steadily louder. The townspeople were gathering. Let them gather. Let them sort this out without him. He had no help to offer. Georg curled his insubstantial form into a tight ball, hugging his knees to his chest as the voices grew louder both inside his head and out of it. As Katrin’s imagined voice joined the others.

  You’re such a disappointment, Georg.

  52

  MY FAMILY’S FAULT

  Katrin had never traveled as swiftly as Chrétien was capable of. It felt as though she was the wind, soaring forward through the skies. Chrétien had estimated it would take him three hours to reach the small town nestled in the foothills of California’s Sierra Nevada range, but surely he would do it in less, at this rate.

  As they traveled, Katrin fought the visions of disarray she’d just left. Stop, she told herself time and time again. Worrying wasn’t going to prevent whatever was happening, but it would wear her down, rendering her less able to help when they arrived.

  She had to convince Georg that what he was doing was wrong. She had to exhibit compassion and not anger. True, he’d buried her underground, but he hadn’t known she could come awake. He could be remarkably stupid, but he hadn’t meant to be cruel. That was what she had to remember.

  Chrétien and Katrin arrived in Las Abuelitas where they were welcomed and briefed, Chrétien with considerably more kissing than Katrin thought was strictly necessary.

  “And have you seen Georg?” Katrin asked the others who weren’t as … preoccupied.

  “I hear his thoughts,” said Chrétien, breaking free of Gwyn’s embrace.

  “So go get him!” snapped Gwyn.

  “There is little I can do unless he reveals himself in his physical form,” said Chrétien.

  “I’m the one who needs to talk to Georg,” said Katrin. “He’ll show himself to me.” She didn’t feel as certain as she knew she sounded, but there was no sense in making everyone else worry any more than they already were.

  Chrétien reached for Gwyn’s hand and held it tightly.

  “Go help Katrin,” Gwyn said to Chrétien. “I need both hands right now.” She handed a child a chocolate chip cookie, and then snuck one to Katrin, too. “You look like you could use a good meal,” muttered Gwyn.

  “I’ll be fine,” said Katrin. Then she turned to Chrétien. “Help me find Georg.”

  The two vanished, hands clasped.

  Katrin found it easy to converse with Chrétien while invisible. Much easier than it was going to be with Georg. Georg had always complained he couldn’t hear the others. That it made his head hurt to try to hear or speak. This would make her task more difficult, but Katrin was persuaded that if Georg saw her here, he would come solid out of sheer astonishment that she wasn’t buried in sand anymore.

  As Chrétien and Katrin searched for Georg, there was a disturbance behind them.

  Something is happening, Chrétien told her.

  I hear it, Katrin responded. Do you think it could be Georg?

  Chrétien replied, No. In fact, I hear him not at present.

  There were cries coming from the crowded street they’d just left.

  Should we go back and see what’s happening? asked Katrin.

  I fear we must, replied Chrétien. Madame Li is most distressed.

  And then Katrin heard the sound of a voice she assumed belonged to Madame Li, shouting at someone to lower their gun.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sam frowned as she sent the next set of parents forward. The toddler at its mother’s side had already vanished and reappeared once. She gestured to Gwyn that they should hurry things along.

  The shouting outside didn’t register as angry shouting at first. Sam was more preoccupied with whether the toddler now sitting beside Gwyn was going to vanish before getting swabbed or not. But soon the shouting grew distinct. It was the angry mother again: Antonia.

  Sam rose, ready to ask a few of the parents to step aside so Antonia and her child could be seen right away. But it seemed Antonia hadn’t found her son yet. She was screaming his name in alternation with demands that someone give him back!

  Sam hesitated. The woman needed assistance, and she hadn’t wanted it from Bridget Li. Maybe the distraught woman would accept help from someone else—from her.

  Turning to Mr. Polwen, her former biology teacher, Sam said, “You can see what I’m doing here, right? Would you mind taking over?”

  Before he’d finished agreeing, Sam dashed out into the street where dozens of people were still mingling so thickly that cars couldn’t have gotten through if they’d tried.

  “Cody!” shouted the woman. Her hair was wild, but her eyes were far more so.

  She looked more than distraught. She looked … crazy.

  And then, suddenly, Antonia was addressing Sam.

  “You! This is your doing! It’s your fault! You’re in league with the government, aren’t you? It wasn’t enough they
took Chad, now they want Cody for their evil experiments, and you helped them!”

  Sam stood there, stunned. The woman was out of her mind. But then Sam recalled her own speculations about illicit governmental experiments when she’d first discovered her ability.

  “Stop right there!” cried Antonia. She pulled a pistol from her jacket. “You! Give him back.”

  Sam’s first instinct was to ripple, but she remained solid. If anything was going to make this situation worse, it would be the sight of Sam vanishing into thin air as if she had something to hide.

  “Put your hands in the air,” shouted Antonia.

  Around them, people were slowly backing away. Sam saw several in her peripheral vision who were vanishing to safety. She didn’t blame them, but she didn’t follow suit. It wouldn’t help.

  Slowly, Sam raised her hands in the air. “Can we talk?” she asked, her heart leaping to her throat. Could she ripple fast enough if it came down to it? Sam kept an eye on the woman’s trigger finger, trembling slightly.

  “I don’t want to talk. I want Cody!” cried Antonia. “What have you done with my son?”

  The entire street was silent except for Antonia’s screams.

  “I’ll help you find him,” said Sam. “That’s what I would like to do, more than anything. Okay? Can we look together?”

  “This is all your fault. You and those other girls. Where are they? I want them out here, too!”

  Sam tried to think her way through this. If Gwyn and Mickie came out here, would that pacify Antonia? The woman’s wild gaze seemed to indicate it might not. And if Gwyn and Mick came outside, they might be held up for who knew how long from swabbing those most in danger from the chameleon gene.

  “They’re busy,” said Sam. “It’s just me, I’m afraid. Let me help you. Please.” Her heart was pounding so hard that she’d begun to hear a whooshing sound in her ears, keeping pace with her pulse.

  “I don’t want your help. This is your fault!”