by Matt London
The walls were lined with beautiful engraved hieroglyphs, pictograph symbols that the ancient Egyptians used to communicate. Evie couldn’t decipher the words, but in some cases the images were easy enough to understand. Farming is good. When you die, if your heart weighs more than a feather, some lizard-leopard-hippo-looking thing will eat you.
“Pyramids are amazing, aren’t they?” Evie mused.
“Sure, I mean, they’re mighty big and all, but . . . What do you mean?”
“How do you move giant bricks like that, and build something so huge, thousands of years ago?”
“I dunno,” Sprout said. “Hard work, I guess.”
“Some people think aliens built the pyramids.”
Sprout snorted. “I reckon Rick would give you a mighty lecture if he heard you say that, Evie.”
“Oh, I’m sure he would make fun of me. But who cares? Sure, maybe aliens had nothing to do with building the pyramids. Maybe there aren’t any aliens at all. But . . . I mean . . . don’t you wonder? What’s out there, beyond the stars?”
“I think the stars are amazing enough,” Sprout said. “Especially the sun. We all live because of the sun. The sun makes the plants grow.”
Evie felt a slight tremor in her voice as she spoke. “I want to know what’s out there. I’ve explored all seven continents with my dad. I created an eighth continent and I explored that too. I’ve been to the bottom of the ocean. What’s next?”
Evie pointed up.
Sprout stopped suddenly. “Hey now, look at this.”
The corridor ended abruptly at a flat yellow door. Evie leaned her flashlight against the wall to take a closer look. A grid of squares covered the door, and each square had English letters on it.
“What the heck is this?” Sprout removed his hat and scratched his head.
Evie read down the left column of squares. “H . . . Li . . . Na . . . Oh, I get it! It’s the Periodic Table of Elements.”
“Oh yeah!” Sprout grinned. “Professor Doran taught me about this. It’s the labeling system for chemical elements. I reckon it’s organized by atomic number, right?”
“Right,” Evie said. “2-Tor made us study it. The atomic number is the number of protons a given atom has. Each atom has a different number of protons. Top left—hydrogen. That one has a single proton.”
“That’s some mighty fine knowledge you got there, Evie.”
She giggled. “See, I do listen! Now how do we get past this door? Any ideas?”
“Hmm . . .” Sprout scratched his chin. “What was that access code we found?”
“Two-four-four.” Evie looked at the periodic table carved into the door. “Oh, I know!” She pushed the square that read Pu. “Two-four-four. The standard atomic weight of plutonium.”
The Pu button slid back into the door, and then the portal swung open with a groan, revealing a dark laboratory beyond.
“Rick insisted I learn my atomic weights,” Evie explained with a smile, snatching her flashlight back.
The laboratory was dark and empty. There were no lights, which made sense, considering Doctor Grant was blind. A standing sarcophagus emerged from the far wall. The coffin was shaped like a man, holding a crook in its hands, but it had the head of a cat—a tiger cat.
Evie laughed as she approached the sarcophagus. “You always had a sense of humor, didn’t you, Doctor Grant?” She pried the sarcophagus open, revealing a computer terminal inside.
She pushed the power button on the side of the terminal and it hummed to life. She did a file search for the formula of the Eden Compound. A window appeared, and inside was a round icon that said “Click Me.”
Evie looked at Sprout, who shrugged. She turned back to the computer, determined, and clicked on the icon.
A strip of paper spilled from the side of the computer. Evie stared at the complex formula printed on the paper in black ink. She thought back, long ago, to the sub-sub-sub-basement in Lane mansion, where she and Rick had first learned about the Eden Compound that would change their lives forever. This formula looked familiar, almost like that same formula from the basement.
“This is it,” Evie said. “I think we’ve found it, Sprout!”
Eagerly, she tore off the long strip of paper and stuck it into her pocket.
At the sound of paper tearing, sand began to spill from the keyboard and out of the cracks in the monitor. Evie backed away from the computer as more sand poured out. Sprout clung to her.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“I don’t know!” she cried. “Run!”
The sand burst in a plume, exploding across the lab. As Evie turned, the computer broke open like an egg. A column of sand hit her full in the back, knocking her to the ground. She scrambled to her feet but the sand piled on top of her, weighing her down. She tried to push off the ground to propel her toward the exit. Sand coated the floor and swallowed her hands.
“Help—mrffph!” Evie cried, gobbling a mouthful of sand as she screamed. Blind, flailing, she pushed forward.
A wave of sand hoisted her up, and she surfed down the hall back toward the stairs. She covered her head so she wouldn’t smack it against the stone ceiling. The wave subsided, dropping her onto the floor. She groaned in pain, clutching her elbow, which had received a good solid whack from the floor.
The stairs were in front of her. Evie scrambled up several steps and turned back, looking for her friend.
“Sprout!” she screamed over the roar of the cascading sand. “SPROUT!”
The boy’s cowboy hat slid down a wave of sand and landed at Evie’s feet. But the boy was not attached to it.
“Sprout!” Evie screamed again.
Then she saw him, swimming through the mountain of coarse grains, fighting to get to her. “Evie!” he wailed, his voice muffled by the noise. The sand swallowed him up to the neck. His hand reached out for Evie. She grabbed him and held his hand tight.
Another wave of sand crashed over Sprout, swallowing him into its granular embrace. His head sank under the surface and his hand tugged free of her grip.
“Sprout, no!” Evie cried. She flailed, trying to grab him, but the sand swallowed his outstretched hand. Sprout was gone. The boy who had taught her so much about the fruit of the earth. About the beauty of the planet. About friendship and joy. Gone. All gone.
No. She had lost Doctor Grant, but she wouldn’t lose another friend. The sand continued to rise, but she didn’t care. She buried both her hands into the sand up to the shoulders. She swung her hands back and forth, searching for the boy that had given her so much.
Evie touched something. She grabbed on and pulled.
First fingers, then palm, then wrist appeared. An arm, and then Sprout, plucked from the ground like one of his vegetables. His mouth was clamped shut. His eyes were closed. His entire body was covered in sand.
“Sprout!” Evie screamed, trying to revive him.
As she slapped his face and shook his shoulders, another wave crashed over her, dousing her in sand. She hung onto Sprout so she wouldn’t lose him, shutting her eyes tight against the sharp grains. She felt herself moving straight up, like a geyser.
And then, light. The sand pushed her from the peak of the brown pyramid like an erupting volcano, and the sand carried her down to the ground outside. Evie slammed into the sandy earth, feeling every bone groan under the strain. Miraculously, nothing broke. But the pain radiated through her. Sprout lay beside her, eyes still closed. She closed her eyes and clung to him in the hope that the earth would stop spinning.
A shadow fell over Evie. She opened her eyes to see a large man standing over her.
“Oh no,” she groaned.
Mister Dark snapped his fingers, and then Vesuvia appeared. Evie thought she saw relief flicker across Vesuvia’s face, but it was quickly replaced with her usual annoyed expression. Vesuvia ru
mmaged through Evie’s pockets and procured the long ribbon of paper.
“Is this it?” she asked.
Mister Dark snatched the paper from Vesuvia and examined it. “Yes. The Eden Compound. At long last.” He snapped his fingers again and walked toward his bat-shaped hovership. “Hurry up, Vesuvia. Finish them off. We’re going.”
Vesuvia hesitated. Evie gave her the most hateful look she could muster, but she was surprised when Vesuvia didn’t return the glare. Instead, Vesuvia bit her lip, displaying something that Evie didn’t think she was capable of—regret.
“Vesuvia!” Mister Dark hissed.
The spell was broken. Vesuvia straightened up and aimed her hot-pink laser gun at Evie.
Evie was too weak to scramble out of the way. She closed her eyes. At least she and Sprout were together.
Pew! Pew!
Evie heard the sound of the laser gun firing and braced for the pain, but it never came. She slowly opened her eyes to see Vesuvia stalking off to the hovership with Mister Dark.
Vesuvia didn’t kill them.
To the left of Evie’s head, a small smoking crater had appeared in the sand. That must have been the laser blast. Vesuvia had missed on purpose!
Evie waited until the hovership took off and the coast was clear. With the last of her strength, Evie shoved her friend. “Hey . . . Sprout . . . Are you dead?”
Sprout groaned. “Yeah.”
“You’re dead? That’s terrible news.”
“Glad you think so.”
Evie squeezed his arm, grateful they were both alive. But they didn’t have a second to lose. The whole reason they were in Egypt—the Eden Compound formula—was rapidly on its way to Mastercorp.
“Come on, Sprout! We have to warn Rick and the others,” Evie said, dragging her aching body upright. “To the Roost.”
RICK SPRINTED ACROSS THE LAUNCHPAD AT THE WINTERPOLE OUTPOST. BLACK INSECTOID hoverships, sent from the dreadnought, swarmed above him. Rick and the others had taken to calling the ships “bugs.” The bugs pummeled the ground with little capsules, which broke on impact, spilling Anti-Eden Compound across the runway, transforming the icy ground into sheets of stay-fresh plastic wrap. He waved Winterpole agents out of the way.
“Move! Move!” Rick shouted. The Mastercorp bugs battered the top of the array as a familiar tree flew overhead. Rick ducked under the communications array for cover and pulled out his pocket tablet.
Rick called into his tablet. “Evie! What are you doing? It’s too dangerous!”
“Thanks, bro!” Evie’s voice was cheerful, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “It’s good to be back. Think you can make an opening for us?”
“Yeah, sure, no problem.” Rick grimaced. This wasn’t going to be easy. He took off running across the launchpad again, this time headed for the cargo elevator tube. He dodged all the nasty garbage the bugs were making on the ground and slid into the control console for the tube. He threw the lever, lowering the platform, while the Winterpole agents laid down suppressive ice on the bugs.
Down the elevator went, forming a long empty shaft up to the surface. Rick tugged on the lever as hard as he could, trying to make the elevator move faster.
When it settled to a stop at the base of the tube, Rick took cover in an alcove and watched the sky above.
With a roar the Roost appeared over the tube, swung upright, and dropped. The engines reengaged at the last second, buffeting the tree’s fall. The shock wave knocked Rick’s glasses clean off his head.
As Rick scrounged blindly for his glasses on the floor, Evie and Sprout emerged from the Roost.
“There’s my favorite big bro!” Evie said, running to him.
“Hey, partner!” Sprout said.
Evie gave Rick a hug. “Where are Mom and Dad? Are they safe?”
Rick nodded. “They’re fine. Come on, I’ll take you to everyone.”
He led his sister and Sprout through the twisting icy corridors of the Winterpole complex. Above them, he could hear the deafening rumble of the bugs pounding the surface with their Anti-Eden Compound capsules. After a few narrow escapes, Rick arrived at the entrance to the big conference room cleverly named “The Big Conference Room.”
Inside, there was chaos. A hundred agents ran around the giant table in the center of the room, passing memos back and forth among the people seated. And what a group of people it was: Rick’s parents George and Melinda, Mister Snow and Mrs. Maple, Diana seated between them, Tristan Ruby, Barry and Larry, and lording over everyone was the Director of Winterpole, whose face was barely visible over his globe-like belly.
As soon as Evie entered the room, Mr. and Mrs. Lane leaped to their feet and pushed through the crowd of agents. They scooped Evie into their arms and hugged her tightly.
“I’m so glad you’re safe!” Mom said.
“I wasn’t worried.” Dad squeezed Evie’s bicep. “Look at these muscles!”
Evie flexed and giggled. Sprout flexed too, showing off his veggie-powered vigor.
“You there, girl!” the Director called out to Evie. “Have you brought us the formula for the Eden Compound?”
With a frown, Evie said, “Mastercorp got it.”
“Oh no! This is very terrible. What do we do?” The Director slapped his belly in frustration.
Mrs. Maple pounded her fist on the table. “That’s it! Mastercorp is in direct violation of numerous Winterpole laws. Illegally invading the continent, attacking Winterpole facilities, theft of a dangerous chemical formula. The executive in charge of operations must be arrested at once.”
“Let me issue the arrest order.” All eyes turned to Diana, who had risen from her seat and raised her hand. “I will take down Viola Piffle and all of Mastercorp. I’ll bring them to justice.”
Diana’s mother looked to the Director for help. “Diana, I know you want to help, but you don’t have enough experience. I don’t believe our fates and the fate of the eighth continent should be put in the hands of someone so young.”
“You don’t think I can do it?” Diana challenged. Rick was glad to see his friend standing up for herself, but he secretly wondered if Mrs. Maple was right.
Mister Snow rose to Diana’s defense. “Agent Maple has displayed exceptional talent since her assignment here on the eighth continent. It is my expert opinion that she is capable of executing this mission, and according to Winterpole regulations, she is technically qualified.”
“What say you, Richard Lane?” The Director wheeled his seat to the side so he could lock eyes with Rick. “You’re friends with this girl. Do you think she can handle this mission?”
Rick hesitated. Diana stared at him, hopefully and expectantly.
Rick swallowed hard. He pushed back his glasses. At last he said, “I think Diana would do a great job.”
Diana smiled.
“Done!” The Director wiggled in his seat, satisfied with his conclusion. “Agent Maple will lead the arrest team. Depart immediately. We haven’t a moment to lose. The rest of us will remain here to plan a counterattack on this Anti-Eden onslaught.”
“Yes, Director!” shouted all the agents in unison. Rick wondered how often they rehearsed responding to the Director’s commands like that.
In the commotion that followed, as everyone rushed to set up for the next challenge, Diana approached Rick. She put her hands on his shoulders. “Thank you,” she said seriously. “That really meant a lot to me.”
“What do you mean?” asked Rick, slightly taken aback.
Diana said, “Well, you believe in me. You think I can do it. That means a lot.”
Rick nodded. “Just be careful.”
“I promise I will.”
Rick wanted to say more to Diana, but no words felt right. She left the conference room, leading a team of agents.
FROM THE COCKPIT OF THE LEAD WINTERPOLE
HOVERSHIP, DIANA WATCHED THE MASTERCORP dreadnought grow large in the view screen. She didn’t like the look of the enormous black shark, with its grotesque underbite and lifeless white eyes, but even more discomforting was the lack of resistance her squad encountered as they approached. Most of the bugs were on the east coast of the continent, pestering Scifun and the Winterpole outpost, but there were plenty of Mastercorp hoverships still fluttering about. They weren’t attacking Diana’s ship, or the other ships flying with her. It was almost like Mastercorp wanted them to land on the dreadnought.
The jaws of the Mastercorp ship opened, allowing Diana’s vessel to enter without a challenge. Robotic claws emerged from the walls of the dreadnought’s docking bay, pinching the sides of the Winterpole hovership, guiding it to one of the catwalks and locking it in place. Diana had a bad feeling about this. A hundred armed soldiers stood at attention on the deck of the docking bay. At the front of the group was Viola Piffle. Vesuvia was nowhere to be seen, and thankfully, neither was Mister Dark.
Diana emerged from the shuttle with her fellow agents, each armed with a super-powered icetinguisher. She knew they needed to appear strong so that Mastercorp wouldn’t brush them off.
“Mrs. Piffle,” Diana said, trying to sound stern. “Your invasion of Scifun is illegal. The damage you have done to the eighth continent is illegal. You are under arrest. Please submit peacefully and come with me.”
“No,” Viola said quietly.
Diana’s agents raised their weapons. “Do I look like I’m asking?”
“What you look like,” Mrs. Piffle said, “is a foolish girl who has come unequipped to deal with the might of Mastercorp. Seize them!”
“What? No! You’re the one under arrest.” Diana’s protests were ignored as the soldiers rushed the small group of Winterpole agents. Diana fired her icetinguisher, freezing several soldiers in place, but they kept coming, and soon Diana was on the floor. Her arms were handcuffed behind her back, and before she could call for help, a gag was fitted over her mouth.
