by Chad Morris
“Are you okay?” Carol asked.
Abby managed to nod, and her vision became clearer. Behind Carol, a funnel from the top of the Titanic broke loose and careened toward the open Bridge. “Close the Bridge!”
Coach Adonavich turned to the open scene and quickly twisted the keys just before the huge metal cylinder could flatten them all. The image changed to a ghost of itself and crashed past them.
Abby felt her parents’ arms around her. The three of them held each other for a few moments. They were back—and what was more, they were safe. She hugged them tightly. It didn’t feel like it took any energy at all.
“Sorry we took so long,” Coach Adonavich said. “Hendricks was working for Muns. He shot Coach Horne and took all the keys. If it hadn’t been for Carol, you would be freezing in the ocean right now—if you were still alive at all.”
With tear-stained cheeks, Abby turned to see Carol. Carol gave an enthusiastic wave. “I basically did a scene from The Kidnapping of Jen Tusil, a web movie I did a year ago. I faked being hysterical—which wasn’t that hard to do under the circumstances. I mean, I was really almost hysterical, and then I attacked him when he got close enough. I can’t believe it worked. I’ll have to send a message to whoever wrote the screenplay and thank them for their accuracy.”
“I’m glad it worked,” Abby said. She exhaled slowly and rose to her feet. She’d done it—she had discovered all the clues, passed all the tests, and brought her parents home safe. A huge weight lifted from her shoulders.
Then her hand vibrated. Someone was trying to sync to her rings. She checked her ring and saw that it was Derick.
“Abby,” he whispered. “You finally answered.”
“Did you get Grandpa?”
“Yes, but there’s more.” His words were quick and urgent. “A group of about ten men are on their way down to the Bridge. We followed them in. I’m pretty sure they’re armed, and they’re coming after the keys. You only have a few minutes.”
Abby turned to the group. “Some of Muns’s men are coming.”
“They’ll do anything for the keys,” Coach Horne said, wincing as he shifted his weight. “I’m afraid I’m not much good. Normally, I might have been able to take a few down for you.”
Coach Adonavich looked at Mr. Hendricks. “His gun is no good to us either, unless we can hack into his rings and sync up to it. Chances are the code would be too hard to crack quickly.” She began to pace.
Carol looked around, perhaps searching for anything that could help. Mom and Dad looked at each other. Abby eyed Mr. Hendricks. He caused this. He was a double-crosser all along. Even though he pretended to befriend her, pretended to teach her the value of history.
And then an idea hit Abby. “I know what to do.”
“What?” Coach Adonavich said. “We are about to face who knows how many armed men who want to kill us for the keys.”
Abby was surprised at how calm she sounded as she answered, “We make them think they’ve won. And then we ambush them. Just like Maynard and Blackbeard.”
Coach Adonavich shook her head. “Like who?”
“Listen up,” Abby said. “I’ll need someone to help me turn these keys.”
35
Ambush
The men bounded into the room, guns poised. “Everyone’s hands in the air!” one yelled, from his position at the front of the group. He saw the figure of a girl at the console of the Bridge and approached her cautiously.
The other soldiers seemed dazed as they stared in wonder. Not only could they see the metallic, tree-looking Bridge, but the keys were all turned, and waves with lifeboats that were half-filled with passengers and debris filled the other side of the room. They hadn’t expected to see an ocean in the school’s basement.
One soldier looked up at the branches of the Bridge and yelled, “They’re above us.” He pointed two barrels, one attached to each of his hands, at the metal limbs, where Carol, Coach Adonavich, and Abby’s parents clung to the branches. Both of Abby’s parents kept their faces covered so they wouldn’t be recognized.
“They were planning an ambush,” the soldier said.
Two more raised their guns at the tree.
“Here’s another,” a different soldier called out, pointing his gun at Coach Horne, who stood in the corner, clutching the handle to a metal door.
The head soldier walked down the middle of the room toward Abby. “Step away from the console.”
Abby turned to see the man with thick eyebrows and a flat nose. “I’ve listened to you before. Don’t think I’ll make that mistake again.”
It took the man only a moment to recognize her. “I must admit, I didn’t expect to find you here. You must be a very resourceful girl. But now you have lost your keys to me again. Now step away.”
“Now!” Abby yelled. With one quick motion, she moved the Bridge’s perspective to beneath the level of the ocean. A huge wave of freezing Atlantic water barreled in through the Bridge and into the room.
The soldiers only had time to widen their eyes before the water slammed into them. Coach Horne had already braced himself. Abby desperately held onto the console, the water mostly missing her as it flowed around the metal trunk of the tree.
The water stole the soldiers’ footing and sent them crashing into the back wall.
Abby quickly moved the perspective above the ocean’s surface again, and the water drained out nearly as fast as it had come in. She glanced over her shoulder to see one or two soldiers still conscious. “Again!” And she slammed them again.
As the water receded the second time, Abby yelled for everyone to take the men’s guns. Within a few moments, they had removed the mechanisms from the invaders’ wrists and were ready to hold them captive if they woke up.
“Abby,” Coach Adonavich said. “It must run in the family, because that was pure genius.”
Abby and Coach Adonavich retrieved their keys.
“You should probably take the third key,” Carol said to Coach Horne, removing it from the console and handing it to him. “It was meant for you.”
Coach Horne nodded and took the key.
Abby’s mother found cuffs on a few of the men and now used them to restrain their owners. The others dragged the men, including Mr. Hendricks, out of the room so they could lock it up tight.
As they made their way out of the tunnel, Coach Adonavich and Carol helping Coach Horne, Abby saw two silhouettes coming toward her.
A voice broke the silence. “You’re okay!” Derick ran through the hall and hugged his parents. “Abby, you did it!”
“Yes, she did,” Mom said.
“We should have been here sooner,” Rafa said. “We heard them enter, and we were trying to take them by surprise from behind, but then the door flew open, and we got hit by a wave of water. Knocked us both over and carried us down the passageway.”
“And just when we were almost to the door again, another wave nearly knocked me out cold,” Derick said. “Rafa, too.”
Abby started to laugh. Carol joined her. Soon everyone but Derick and Rafa were laughing.
“I suppose someone will explain to me why that’s funny,” Derick said.
36
Assembly
Abby walked with Carol in Cragbridge Hall. She took her time, enjoying the fact that she didn’t have to worry about keys or missing parents or falling off a sinking ship to her death. She didn’t even have to worry about class, at least for the next hour or so. She was walking to some sort of surprise assembly.
“Hey, Abby,” Jacqueline said, who approached from the other side of the hall. Her hair was pulled back into two braids, and her clothes matched flawlessly. “I saw on our grade updates that you’re behind on a lot of your homework. If you need to, you can sign up for a tutor. Oh, wait, there are no tutors here. If you need a tutor, you should—”
“Oh be quiet,” Carol said, walking beside Abby. “You’d think that with your intelligence, you’d be able to come up with something new to
say.”
Abby smiled at that.
“I’m glad Abby has at least one friend,” Jacqueline said.
Abby faced Jacqueline. “Jacqueline.” Her tone was commanding. She felt different—stronger, somehow. “You are beautiful and smart and talented and charismatic. And I’m not as pretty as you. I don’t have my own business or great fashion sense. I don’t have as many friends as you.” Abby stood a little taller and stepped closer to Jacqueline. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not ordinary. I have something to offer, and if you were as much of a genius as you say you are, you’d see that I deserve to be here.” Abby said the words slowly for emphasis. They felt good, and what’s more, she believed them.
Jacqueline stood silently for a moment before breaking from her surprise. She let out a loud laugh. “Tell yourself whatever you need to, to help you sleep at night.” Jacqueline turned down the hall and went into the assembly.
Abby shrugged at Carol.
“She gets under my skin,” Carol said. “Little missy prissy sissy. I don’t know where she gets off.”
“Eh,” Abby said, shrugging. “She doesn’t bug me so much anymore.”
“Really?” Carol asked as they left the hall and stepped into the large auditorium. Two floors overlooked one stage, which was set with lighting from the ceiling.
“Yeah,” Abby said. “I guess I used to think her opinion was from one of the world’s brightest, so she had to be right.” They walked down the middle aisle, slowly making their way toward the front. “But now I think she’s like a dog—a little one that always has to be barking about something.”
Carol laughed. “You’re right. Though she’s probably the best-dressed little dog I’ve ever seen. Have you seen her new line of ruffle skirts? So cute! I wanted to ask if it would be a threat to our friendship if I bought one.”
Abby laughed. She found a row, slipped in a few spots, and sat down. “Buy as many as you want.”
A voice boomed over the loudspeaker as the lights dimmed. “Welcome, Cragbridge Hall student body. To begin this surprise assembly, we would like to introduce ...”
Image after image flashed across the auditorium in the largest three-dimensional projection Abby had ever seen: earthquakes, armies, queens being crowned, Abraham Lincoln delivering a speech, people waiting in soup lines, a peace treaty being signed, a concentration camp, a tsunami. Each image was vivid and powerful—larger than life.
“The man who founded this school. He is responsible for many of the inventions ...”
Images of the Bridge, the Chair, and the avatar lab flashed across the hall. Was Grandpa here, at the assembly? Why? Images of several other inventions appeared. Abby didn’t recognize all of them. How many things had Grandpa invented?
“ ... that make this academy the premiere academy in the world: ...”
The crowd cheered, a boy or two taking it upon themselves to yell louder than others at random times.
“Oscar ... Cragbridge!”
The crowd erupted as Abby watched her grandpa walk across the stage. One after another, the students stood on their feet. Soon the entire auditorium had joined in the ovation. It was strange to be there with everyone cheering on her grandpa. Abby had seen moment after moment like this on the web, but this was the first time she had attended anything like it.
Yet her grandpa seemed somewhat at ease. He wore a simple button-up shirt, his Cragbridge Hall blazer, loose slacks, and his old unpolished, imitation-leather shoes. He was dressed up as he would be to go to the all-you-can-eat buffet with his family.
“Thank you, thank you,” he said, motioning for the crowd to quiet down. They didn’t respond right away, but eventually they calmed and sat. “Are you enjoying yourselves?”
Again the crowd erupted in applause and cheers.
“Good, good,” he said, a huge smile on his face. “I invented these machines because I believe that young people’s minds are our best investment. I think you’re worth all the trouble, thought, and effort that went into them. Please do your best to live up to the great expectations we have of you. Don’t worry too much. Don’t stress too much. Just do your best, and everything will be just fine. You won’t let me down.”
The crowd clapped, less boisterously and more thoughtful.
“I give you my highest compliments. I know that some of you out there may well outdo my accomplishments, and do so soon. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I hope I am of help.”
Abby thought that if he wasn’t her grandpa, he would have won her over.
“I’m here,” he said, raising his cane in the air, “to honor someone. Actually, several people. As some of you may have heard, I have been missing for the past several days. It was because ... I was kidnapped.”
The crowd grew solemn.
A view of a press conference streamed in across the projector. A woman in a police uniform stood in front of several small microphones and made a formal announcement. “We are happy to report that Oscar Cragbridge, his son Jefferson, and Jefferson’s wife, Hailey, have all been returned home safely. We will not release any details about their time in captivity.” She flicked her finger, probably to bring up the next page of notes. “We have the perpetrators in custody. They will be prosecuted according to the severity of their crimes. There have been some allegations that implicate Charles Muns, but we cannot find any record or evidence as of yet that the perpetrators worked with him.”
Another flick of the finger, and the woman continued. “Several people were instrumental in rescuing Oscar Cragbridge and his family members. He asked for the chance to honor them himself at an assembly at the school he founded, Cragbridge Hall. We’ll go there live.”
The auditorium appeared on-screen. The students went wild—standing, flailing their arms, whooping. Apparently even geniuses enjoyed a little attention. They were live on the air.
Oscar Cragbridge motioned for silence. “It is true. I was kidnapped and held against my will, as were my son and his wife.”
Abby tried not to think about the nightmarish last few days.
“Although I will not share the details of that time, the end results could have been disastrous for me, my family, and the entire world—a calamity unlike any humanity has ever known—if it had not been for several people. Please honor them with me. First, Coaches Horne and Adonavich.”
The two coaches stepped forward, and the students again erupted in applause. Coach Horne was on crutches, his shoulder and leg heavily bandaged. The students clapped harder, realizing he had been injured in whatever escapades he had been in.
“Minerva Entrese,” Grandpa continued. The English teacher stepped forward, wearing a black dress. Her hair was pulled back with a black ribbon. Though she smiled, Abby thought she still looked nervous. Her actions over the last twenty-four hours had made it clear that she was against Muns, and this honor would remove any lingering doubts.
“But the greatest heroes,” Grandpa said, “were four students.” The crowd hushed. Abby gasped in shock. No. Would he really bring her up there? “First, Rafael Pereira Silva dos Santos. Rafa, would you please join me onstage?”
Rafa stood in an aisle to the far left, and the spotlight found him as he made his way to the stage. Grandpa put both hands on Rafa’s shoulders, then hugged him. After he pulled back, he told the crowd, “Rafa is a man of exceptional talent—talent that proved vital to my escape.”
“Second, Carol Reese.”
Carol rose from her seat as the crowd clapped. She blew kisses in every direction and practically danced her way onto the stage. Grandpa gave her a hug too.
“Carol showed extreme bravery, even facing a gunman.” The crowd hushed. “I owe her a great debt of gratitude.”
“Finally, the two ...” Grandpa’s smooth voice broke. He took a moment to swallow and collect his emotions. Abby wiped her eyes. “Sorry,” he apologized. “The two I owe the greatest gratitude to are those I love the most: Derick and Abby Cragbridge.”
Abby felt th
e spotlight shine on her. She moved to her feet and slowly made her way to the stage, knowing that the whole school was watching. Part of her hated the attention, but she liked the applause coming from her classmates. Maybe she had a chance with them. Maybe she could fit in here. Maybe she could make it.
Abby caught a glimpse of Jacqueline, whose mouth hung wide open.
Derick joined Abby onstage. At the sight of Derick’s T-shirt, she shot him a questioning look. It said “I’m in love” in bold red letters and had Carol’s face underneath.
“Don’t ask,” Derick said. “I had to wear it today of all days.” He shook his head.
Grandpa hugged them both together for several moments. He let go, and then hugged them again. Finally, he addressed the crowd.
“If it were not for these two, this story would not have a happy ending. They have saved more than you will ever know. They faced fears and death, and just kept on going.” Abby smiled wider to keep her bottom lip from quivering. She twisted her hair into a ponytail.
The projector flashed back to the news story. “Apparently Oscar Cragbridge’s grandchildren and their schoolmates were instrumental in finding him trapped in an auditorium under reconstruction. The details of how they helped their grandfather escape and left his captors incapacitated are classified. All we can do is wonder, but in the end, we have to trust the word of one of the great geniuses of our time, that they are heroes.”
The crowd again rose to their feet. Abby and Derick waved as hundreds of students applauded. Then the four students moved into a hug.
• • •
Abby stood once again on the porch of her grandfather’s 1997 home. This time she was excited that he answered and let her in; seeing him at the door almost helped erase her terrible memories.
“So,” Grandpa said with a smile. “Great to see you two again—especially when the world isn’t watching.” He motioned for Abby and Derick to follow as he hobbled back toward his study.
