Balancer

by Patrick Wong

  Bishop dropped the fish and got to his feet. “Smells fishy to me,” he said, evidently not able to resist. He waved up a pH test paper, and it showed a healthy green color. “The water pH is OK, and in terms of fish, there were no marks around the gills, no frothing, so no immediate signs of cyanide or poisons. There’s a funny smell about them. I would think they would smell more.”

  “Exactly. Until we know what we’re dealing with here, let’s caution the public about the water quality, have people stay away from the river and lakes until further notice,” Carter said.

  “The reservoirs are covered, and a response-team is already monitoring the Potomac in D.C.”

  Silence fell between the two agents as they both grasped the enormity of the situation. The famous river running by the nation’s capital might be poisoned. It was almost too terrifying to contemplate.

  “What did the CIA pull up?” Carter asked.

  “No established terror cells based around here. No unusual net activity. Nothing to point at terrorism.”

  “… Apart from a potentially poisoned river running by D.C., a senator from the Committee for Foreign Affairs caught up in a freak wildfire, and some seriously weird stuff happening to animals in the space of a few days,” Carter said.

  “Point taken. You think the animals are some kind of message here, too?”

  Carter shrugged. “What do your friends at the U.S. Geological Survey make of it?”

  “They’ll be running tests for water pathogens today, but the fish are mixed.” His partner looked at him for clarification. “The fish biologist said a disease would kill one species. Here we have about three or four,” Bishop continued.

  “So you’re saying it’s a toxin?”

  “Not necessarily.” Bishop snapped off his other latex glove.

  “We need every one of those wildfire carcasses examined again, too. They must have missed something. The fish and those animals — they’re connected somehow,” Carter added as the agents headed back. “Any new theories how the fire started?”

  “Kids, they think.”

  Carter scoffed. “Kids. Right. I want to know everything about those animal carcasses’ positioning, their pathology — everything.” Pausing for a moment and surveying the landscape, Carter exhaled slowly in frustration. “Nature doesn’t lay out animals in straight lines like that. We’re dealing with some sick, twisted bastard.”

  Within the FBI’s often hidden P.R.E.S.S. Division, Carter and Bishop were known to deliver results. Carter was determined to rule out act of nature, and Bishop was set on refuting human causes such as bioterrorism. It was usually one of the two.

  Carter rejoined Lynn and guided her by her upper arm away from the lake. “We’ll need you to report on this, but it’s important you don’t cause a total panic. The toxicology reports will come back in the next couple of hours. Our office will issue a statement once we have more facts.”

  “Sure.” Lynn made a note of the detail. “Can I talk about bioterrorism?”

  “Didn’t stop you before,” Bishop said dryly as he walked past them, back to the car.

  “Minimize the panic, please, Ms. Meyers. Oh, and let your viewers know that we are instituting a precautionary water recreation advisory. No swimming or fishing in the surrounding rivers, lakes or streams until further notice. We’ll have an official public advisory within the hour, but you can break the news first.”

  Lynn nodded, barely able to conceal her delight.

  Carter turned to a nearby officer who was cordoning off the side area. “Once Ms. Meyers leaves, nobody else from the public gets access, understand? I want this under wraps, with police surveillance 24/7.”

  “Yessir.”

  Lynn watched the taller of the two agents join his partner in the car. She turned to the camera.

  “Ready to roll in three, two, one …”

  Nicole and Friend

  “It’s here!” Amy slammed Nicole’s locker door shut and shoved a copy of the school newspaper, The Acorn, in front of her. She dialed the combination to her own neighboring locker and proceeded to rearrange her bag. Nicole couldn’t help but laugh — a few days into the new year at Oak Wood High, and Amy’s locker was already a mess of gum packets, makeup, candy bars, magazines and the occasional schoolbook.

  “Go on, read it! I waited for you so we could see it together,” Amy urged. Suppressing a smirk, Nicole took a deep breath and ran her gaze down the report.

  The headline ran “Heroic Oak Wood Student Saves Girl From Wildfire” underneath a grainy shot of Amy leading and Nicole carrying Elise. It promised details inside.

  The editor, Marc, a smart senior who was aiming squarely at Ivy League, had visited Nicole’s house earlier in the week to ensure the story would run in the first Acorn of the semester. He’d asked the usual questions about their escape, and Nicole knew her answers had come out overly modest and somewhat on the shy side. Amy, meanwhile, filled in the gaps Nicole had left. She also exaggerated a couple of points.

  But something else now stopped Nicole in her tracks. Within two or three lines of reading, she realized, with some horror, that she had been made the feature of the article. Worse still, Amy was mentioned only in passing — and not even by name. The caption under the grainy photograph read “Nicole and friend emerge from the wildfire.” She looked up at Amy, a little concerned.

  “You really didn’t read this, did you?”

  “What do you mean?” Amy tried to take the paper, but Nicole snatched it away.

  “I mean, I have no idea why he reported it this way. Because we were both at the interview, right?”

  Sensing Nicole was covering something up, Amy snatched the paper back and read through the columns breathlessly. With every new sentence, Amy’s shoulders sagged a little, and Nicole could see the exact moment that Amy’s heart sank. Her eyes searched desperately over the text a second time for her name, and again it was nowhere to be found.

  Nicole watched Amy gather herself as she knew she would, and Amy did her usual stellar job of masking her true reaction.

  “I mean, it’s kinda fair enough, right? It was you who carried Elise all that way.”

  “I couldn’t’ve done it without you, though! I remember saying that to him. It was total teamwork!”

  “Well, teams of two don’t sell as well, I guess.”

  “Listen, I know it’s disappointing, but the people who watch our show know the truth.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Amy turned back to her locker on the pretext of fetching something, but Nicole knew it was to hide her disappointment.

  “Didn’t you walk in with Drake this morning?”

  Amy shrugged and gave a little hum in reply.

  “Did he have anything to say?”

  “He thought the rescue was pretty cool.”

  “Right — there it is!” Nicole was now inadvertently doing her best impression of Amy’s enthusiastic arm waving. “The people who matter know the truth, right?”

  Amy nodded, and the twinkle came back to her eye.

  “So, tell me — who’s awesome?” Nicole asked.

  The friends playfully cast votes for themselves.

  *

  An hour later, Nicole was trying to let history class absorb her attention, but her mind kept wandering.

  This was possibly one of the most embarrassing starts to the school year she could have anticipated. The Acorn had drawn attention to her. She had been thrust center stage when all she wanted was to be a regular student. The worst thing was, she was in the position Amy so badly craved.

  Elise’s dramatic recovery still haunted Nicole, and she had begun to receive some quite worrying emails from Ben Owens about animal deaths surrounding the wildfire. Ben Owens, aka NewBenKenobi, was, in Amy’s words, a “massive Nix fan.” Nicole and Ben weren’t friends, and though she didn’t have anything against the guy, he never seemed entirely comfortable around her. Nicole was thinking he was just using the media attention as an excuse to reach
out to her.

  Nicole felt a nudge on her thigh and she looked up. The entire class was staring at her, awaiting a response.

  “Miss Aaronson? Are you with us today, or still on vacation?”

  “Here …” replied Nicole, trying to appear as unembarrassed as she could. A low wave of comments rippled across the class.

  “So, please, would you tell us your opinion of why the Treaty of Versailles caused World War II?”

  Nicole blinked. It wasn’t that she didn’t know the answer; she was just hyper-aware of all eyes on her again. She took a breath.

  “The Versailles Treaty was a contributing factor to World War II, but more because of how representative it was of Germany’s feelings that they had been humiliated than the actual treaty itself.”

  Silence for a moment, and Nicole could hear her heart pounding. That seemed to be enough, though, and with a last lingering glance letting Nicole know she’d gotten away with it this time, Mr. Stanford clicked to bring up a new screen.

  After a few moments, Nicole let herself relax back in her chair. Being called out like that in front of the class had shocked her into attention, and now taking in the words of her tall, white-haired teacher was much easier.

  Only a note, slid to her by a classmate named Reilly, who sat next to her, could distract her. Reilly indicated it was from Ben. Nicole made brief eye contact with the short, brown-haired boy across the room. He looked up as if to acknowledge receipt, and seemed to want her to open it.

  A note from Ben now? What on earth could he want? But with Stanford turning back to scrutinize the class once more, there was little opportunity to open it, and so Nicole slid it under her books. She spent much of the rest of the lesson immersed in the details of the lead-up to the Second World War, relieved she could at last concentrate on something other than the wildfire.

  When the lunch bell sounded, Nicole’s mind had completely moved away from all talk of wildfires and newspaper gossip. As the class cleared, Mr. Stanford approached her desk.

  “Is everything OK, Nicole? I heard about the campgrounds fire.”

  “Yeah, perfectly fine. Sorry about earlier. I was kinda zoning out.”

  Mr. Stanford’s brown eyes rested on her for a second. “It must’ve been very frightening.”

  Nicole held his look and nodded.

  “You’ll let me know if anything is interfering with your schoolwork this semester, and I’ll make sure you get back on track. Deal?”

  Nicole smiled, relieved. “Deal.”

  “Good.” Mr. Stanford collected up his battered leather briefcase and left Nicole alone in the classroom.

  The stillness of the room reminded Nicole of her dream the night of the wildfire. She was half toying with the notion of going to the window to see whether it really was déjà vu when she realized it wasn’t the rumble she remembered.

  However, a few seconds later there was a definite SLAM! and an excited Amy clattered into the classroom.

  “I knew you’d be here.”

  “What’s up?”

  “What’s up? Let me show you wassup!” Amy produced her smartphone with a flourish and presented it to Nicole, beaming. “Look at the numbers!”

  Nicole looked down at AmesAndNix.com, with the most recent YouTube clip of them talking about the wildfire. At the bottom of the page were a hundred new followers.

  “Wow!”

  “I know! A hundred since this morning! The Acorn’s just doubled our audience!” Amy gave a hoot of delight and hugged Nicole. “The more people who read the paper, the more people who will come to our site. This could go viral, Nix!”

  Nicole laughed. She always admired her best friend’s all-conquering zeal for things, and this turn of events had certainly brightened her day, allowing her to forget The Acorn’s oversight. The website had been floating below the 50-follower mark for weeks, and this gave it a welcome boost. “Maybe we can use the next show to set the story straight,” Nicole added.

  “Oh no!” protested Amy. “We just do … whatever. We have to think of what we can do! It’s got to be awesome. Come on — food.” Amy put her arm around Nicole and nudged her toward the door.

  “Lemme get my stuff.”

  “K. I’ll be outside. Seeing who loves us!” Amy sang as she balletically exited the classroom.

  Nicole returned to her desk and collected her books, pen case and beloved new messenger bag, a new-school-year gift from her dad.

  A folded-up piece of paper fluttered down to the floor. Ben’s note. Nicole had totally forgotten about it.

  She headed out of the room, unfolding the note as she went. Its one-word message was simple yet surprising.

  Hero.

  Your Friendly Neighborhood Hero

  The camera clicks on and Amy appears, dressed in jeans and sneakers with a cute pink top. She’s standing in a hallway decorated with picture frames and a rubber plant. It’s early morning, and behind her light is peeking through the cracks in curtains. She peers into the camera, raising her finger to her lips.

  “Shhhh,” she whispers. “I have to keep very quiet, because I’m here on important secret business. See this?”

  Amy flicks the camera to a Web page on her tablet. The headline reads “Family Says Thanks to Local Superhero,” and underneath it is a photograph of the Allertons with Nicole.

  Amy points to a door and pushes it open.

  The camera moves past a sign on the door that reads Nicole’s Room.

  The light is low here, and the camera zooms in on a mound under duvet covers. The sound of gentle breaths points to someone undisturbed, asleep.

  Amy turns the camera back to herself and whispers, “I’m going to put my personal safety at risk just to show you what a sleeping superhero looks like. Let’s see if she exhibits any of her superpowers this morning.”

  Amy sticks out her foot and prods the mound.

  No response.

  Amy sneaks up to the curtains and flings them open, flooding bright sunlight into the room. Some low groaning comes from the mound.

  “She wakes!”

  Grinning, Amy tiptoes up to Nicole’s bed and throws back the covers.

  “Morning!” she squeals.

  Nicole sits up, sees the camera and, looking mortified, lets out a brief scream. She grabs the covers, hurls them over herself and returns to being a mound of duvet again.

  “Amy! No!” Nicole’s pleas are muffled.

  “I can’t hear you!” Amy tugs at the duvet, but Nicole isn’t budging. “Nix, come out and talk! Don’t you have anything to say to your adoring fans?”

  The mound does not reply.

  “Nix, come on! You’re totally the town superhero! Your followers await your words!”

  No reply, but a foot emerges and tries to locate Amy’s leg, aiming to kick.

  “Aha! The superfoot!” Amy’s hand hovers over Nicole’s kicking foot. “Wait for it …” She grabs for the foot.

  A squeal comes from under the mound as Amy tickles Nicole’s foot. The foot swiftly goes under the duvet again, and Nicole curls up into a ball.

  Amy puts the camera on herself. “It looks like Nicole has retreated into her Blanket of Solitude to recharge her superpowers. But I wanted to let y’all know that Nicole is appearing on prime-time TV this weekend. Go, Nix!”

  Amy cheers and presses a button. Cartoon letters flash up on the screen.

  Go SuperNix! Go SuperNix!

  Behind her, Nicole lowers the duvet, revealing a face deliberately obscured by a mask of her thick brown hair.

  “Ah, SuperNix, you’re in your ordinary teenager disguise, I see.”

  “Amy!” Nicole growls from under her hair. Her hand shoots out and grabs the camera.

  Abruptly, the screen fades to purple, with scrawled letters:

  Peace Out! Ames & Nix xxx

  Alien Invasions

  It was a warm Friday evening, and Ben was in his room, laptop on and music blaring. A bowl of spaghetti was getting cold on the desk beside him as h
e scrolled down a Web page that explained all about how the FBI had refuted spontaneous combustion as the cause of the Lake Fairfax animal deaths. The idea of an animal’s body fat acting like wax in a candle made Ben lose his appetite. Not that he needed much help for that.

  His mom had hastily cobbled together “guilt pasta” — as Ben liked to refer to it — before going out for dinner with her new boyfriend. Her special hamburger meat/tomato sauce had been Ben’s favorite when he was seven, and it became the cure-all for scrapes and fights and bad tests at school. His mom whipped it up whenever she saw he was sad or suffering some kind of meltdown. Honestly, it didn’t really work anymore — it hadn’t since his dad had left when he was twelve. But he hadn’t the heart to tell her.

  The music ended, and the warm breeze filtered in sounds of the other kids in his neighborhood as they left their houses and headed out for the evening. He listened enviously to the chatter and the slamming of doors as car engines revved and friends gathered for an exciting night ahead.

  Ben’s sister was at their next-door neighbor’s party, to which Ben had been invited. He could hear the laughter now that his music had stopped, and he planned to head over after he finished up here. He still had a little more work to do, and he wanted to follow up on one more idea before he reached out to Nicole. He inhaled sharply at the thought of what he was going to have to do, but knew he was right this time.

  He pressed Genius on his streaming music app, starting another hour’s worth of music, and twirled in a forkful of tepid dinner. Flicking back to AmesAndNix.com, he found there had been no new updates since first thing that morning, when he’d been highly amused to see Amy surprising a sleepy and understandably grumpy Nicole. Nicole had once more gone up in his estimation, if that were possible. She was still modest about everything that had happened — not like Amy, who Ben suspected would happily talk herself up about the slightest thing.

  He figured Nicole was feeling pretty uncomfortable about being suddenly so popular at school, so it was understandable that she wasn’t interested in his emails. He knew there were some important details he was missing, and the scattered collection of clues that he did have kept sending him searching for answers in all directions.