Science Fair (29 page)

Outside, the police scattered as the Wienermobile shot past them, sideswiped a cruiser, went off a curb, and landed in the street. Vrsk spun the wheel right, fighting for control as the fishtailing Wienermobile roared forward into the utter darkness of the blacked-out neighborhood.

“I CANNOT SEE!” shouted Vrsk.

“TURN ON THE LIGHTS!” shouted Toby.

“HOW?” shouted Vrsk. The lights in the Krpshtskani presidential limousine were never used, the last bulb having burned out in 1989.

Toby pushed away from the door and reached across the cab, praying that the light switch on the Wienermobile was in the same place as on his parents’ car. It was; he found it and turned the switch. The lights came on just in time for Vrsk to see that they were about to ram a Dunkin’ Donuts. He yanked the wheel to the right again, sending everyone sprawling left.

He managed to miss the building as he made a skidding turn onto a cross street. For the moment, the road ahead was clear, although in the distance Toby could hear sirens wailing.

Many
sirens.

Behind him, Micah, Tamara, and Drmtsi, having been hurled around by Vrsk’s violent maneuvers, were struggling to get up. Tamara looked out the windshield.

“Where are we?” she said.

“I have no idea,” said Toby.

“So,” she said, “we’re wanted as terrorists, we’ve stolen the Wienermobile, police are chasing us,
and
we’re lost.”

“Yeah,” said Toby.

“I honestly don’t see how things can get any worse,” said Tamara.

Micah said, “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

I
N THE UTILITY ROOM
next to the Hubble Middle School gym, Prmkt was hunched over the computer screen, watching the futile efforts of the power-company computer people to regain control over their system. Prmkt smiled: they weren’t even close.

Through the utility-room door, he could hear the sounds of scared people—students, teachers, parents—as they groped their way around the science-fair projects in the dark gym.

A voice was shouting for everyone to stay calm.

“There’s nothing to worry about!” the voice was saying.

Yes, there is
, thought Prmkt.

He touched the control pad, opening a window on his computer screen. He tapped some keys; the window was now showing the CNN satel ite feed. Superimposed on the screen were the words MASSIVE BLACKOUT. A frowning announcer was talking.

“…Mil ions of people are affected,” he said. “There is stil no word from Mid-Atlantic Power about what caused the blackout, or when power wil be restored. We have been told by the FAA that planes in the affected area are being diverted to airports outside the blackout area, which as we said earlier covers much of the Mid-Atlantic region. We’ve also been told that telephone service has been severely disrupted, which is making it difficult to get any information; in fact, at the moment we are not in touch with our CNN Washington bureau.

Already there has been speculation that, since so many major government facilities are affected, this could be an act of terrorism. But I repeat that at the moment we have no information that would confirm this. We are continuing to…”

Prmkt clicked off the sound. His hands went to the keyboard again.

He would show them what terror felt like.

“W
E’RE BACK UP!”
shouted a voice in the Mid-Atlantic Power command center.

Bernard Kosar slammed his phone down and ran from his office, so excited that he left the footbal on his desk.

He looked up at the Christmas Tree and felt a surge of relief: the red lights had turned green. The power was on again.

Kosar turned to Robert Joseph, the computer genius, and said, “What happened?”

Joseph shrugged and answered, “I have no idea.”

“What?” said Kosar.

Joseph pointed at his computer screen. “We didn’t get it back. They
gave
it back. Whoever they are.” Kosar felt a knot in his stomach. “Are you saying they could take it down again?” he asked.

Joseph nodded glumly. “Yup,” he said.

Kosar ran both hands through his wiry hair. “Al right, listen up, people!” he said. “We need to…”

“Excuse me, Bernie,” said the technician/singer Laura Schweitzer.

“What?” Kosar said, annoyed at the interruption.

“I think you’l want to see this,” she said, pointing at her screen.

Kosar leaned over. The screen showed a map of the eastern United States. The top half of the map was covered with dozens of symbols flashing red.

“Does that mean what I think it means?” he said.

Schweitzer nodded. “I’m afraid it does. Now the whole Northeast is down. New York, Boston, Phil y—al down.” Kosar straightened up. “Al right, people!” he said. “We have to find out WHO IS DOING THIS, and we have to STOP THEM, and we have to do it NOW.” There was no need for this speech; everybody in the room was already busy.

Kosar’s direct-line phone was ringing again. On the way to answer it, he picked up his footbal .

“H
EY,” SAID TOBY
, looking out the Wienermobile windshield, “the lights are back on.”

Tamara, in the backseat with Micah and Drmtsi, looked out. “Good,” she said. “Maybe now we can figure out where we are.”

“Can we stop?” said Micah. “Because I am
really
carsick.”

“If you throw up,” said Tamara, “I wil kil you.”

“Thanks for your concern,” said Micah.

Vrsk had taken a number of sharp, random turns since they had driven away from the supermarket; at the moment, there didn’t seem to be any police cars behind them. But in the distance, the sound of sirens seemed to be coming from al directions.

“We can’t stop yet,” said Toby. “If we stop, the cops’l catch us.”

“Maybe we should lose the Wienermobile,” said Tamara. “It’s a little obvious, don’t you think? People tend to notice a giant hot dog.”

“Yeah,” said Toby. “But it’s al we have right now. When we get near the school we can ditch it. But right now we need to figure out where we are.”

“There’s a Starbucks,” said Micah.

“
That’s
a big help,” said Toby.

From the backseat, Drmtsi, who was feeling a bit queasy himself, said to Vrsk, in Krpsht, “Are we there yet?”

“I wil ask the boy,” answered Vrsk. He asked Toby in English, “How far is to school?”

“I don’t know,” said Toby. “We’re trying to figure out where we are.”

“There’s another Starbucks,” observed Micah.

“What did the boy say?” Drmtsi asked Vrsk.

“He said we wil be there soon,” answered Vrsk, who was busy driving and didn’t want to be answering questions from Drmtsi.

“Can I ask you something?” Toby said to Vrsk.

“Yes,” said Vrsk.

“Who are you real y?”

Vrsk kept his eyes on the road. “I told you, we are tour—”

“You’re not tourists,” interrupted Toby.

Vrsk said nothing.

“Why do you want to go to the school?” asked Toby.

Nothing.

“What do you know about the science fair?”

Nothing.

“There’s another Starbucks,” said Micah.

“Micah,” snapped Toby, “wil you stop pointing out every single…wait a minute. I
know
that Starbucks. That’s the one near my house!” He frowned, then said to Vrsk, “Turn left here.”

“What’re you doing?” said Tamara.

Toby turned around to look at her. “We’re going to stop by my house just for a second.”

“What? I thought we were going to the science fair!”

“We are,” said Toby. “But we’re right near my house. I just want to stop by, in case the Star Wars guys are there.”

“What if they are?” said Tamara. “What’re
we
going to do about it?”

“I could throw up on them,” said Micah.

“Turn right here,” said Toby to Vrsk.

From the backseat, Drmtsi said to Vrsk, “Where are we going now?”

“We are going to the boy’s house to stop there on the way to the school,” Vrsk answered.

“Why?” said Drmtsi.

“I am not certain, but I think the boy said that people from Star Wars are coming to his house.”

“Excel ent!” said Drmtsi. It did not surprise him that, in this amazing and rich country, show-business celebrities would be abundant. In English, he declared: “May this Force is with you!”

Toby, Tamara, and Micah looked at him.

“These guys are
weird
,” whispered Tamara.

“Turn left,” said Toby to Vrsk. “We’re almost there.”

“Good,” said Micah, suppressing a burp. “Because I’m almost there, too.”

N
OW THAT THE POWER WAS BACK
, the anxiety level in the Hubble gym had ratcheted down a few notches—from panicky to merely nervous. The big room roared with the sound of a thousand excited voices; rumors swirled everywhere as the crowd, half of whom held mobile phones pressed to their ears, tried to work out what, exactly, had happened.

So far they’d learned little, other than that the blackout had hit a large area around Washington and that there was no official explanation yet. Somebody had just picked up a rumor that the Northeast, including New York City, had also been hit by a blackout; hearing this, parents exchanged worried looks and a few whispered the feared word…
terrorism
. This particular buzz was spreading quickly across the gym when the PA system came to life.

“Attention! May I have everybody’s attention, please!”

As always, The Hornet’s commanding voice quickly quieted the room. Al eyes turned toward the smal stage, where The Hornet stood with Lance Swingle, her prim, pursed lips close to the microphone.

“As I’m sure you al know by now,” said The Hornet, “the blackout we experienced here at Hubble was widespread. I am sure the authorities are taking whatever steps are needed to deal with any, ah, problems that may have arisen. But for the time being, the police have ordered al nonemergency traffic to stay off the roads. So since we’re temporarily confined here anyway, and since Mr. Swingle has very graciously agreed to remain with us, we are going to continue with the science fair.” The crowd applauded. Swingle waved and smiled, as if he were absolutely thril ed. He was not. The second the lights had gone out, he had grabbed his nearest lackey and said he wanted to get out of there
immediately
. The lackey had run out to the bal field to inform the helicopter pilot, who had informed the lackey that the Federal Aviation Administration was not al owing any civilian aircraft to take off, even one owned by a bil ionaire. This was the only reason Swingle remained in the gym.