The Nerdy Dozen (11 page)

THE RECRUITS SAT IN A SLEEPY FOG OF SILENCE IN THE invisible fighters, watching the guards pace back and forth on patrol, carrying extremely thin baseball bats. The guards were all in uniform, wearing khaki pants, brown boots, sunglasses, and short-sleeved button-down shirts with a blue-and-yellow patch on the right sleeve. Neil strained his eyes to examine the patches, which looked like blue circles with some kind of picture inside, but he couldn't make out the details. He rubbed his eyes, still feeling the sting of their exhaustion. Late-night gaming sessions had put him in this state before, but he had always had the promise of eight hours of sleep in flannel sheets ahead of him. Now he struggled to keep his head from bobbing like a marionette's.

Around them, the giant concrete warehouse was completely sealed in, with tall fencing and loops of razor wire along the guards' pathway on top. Only the highest floor of the building was lined in windows of black-tinted glass. Neil had played enough Super Chopper: Revenge of the Rotor Man to notice what looked to be a helipad on the roof. To the side, behind giant sliding metal gates, was a gravelly driveway that ended in a loop. Two rugged jeeps and a glistening convertible sat parked at the end.

What could need all this protection?
Neil wondered, drifting in and out of consciousness.

He was just starting to nod forward when one guard, walking on the top of the building, seemed to flicker and disappear. Neil pushed his fists into his eyes and rubbed them.

“Whoa, Trevor, are you getting this?” Neil asked. “Did you see that person just disappear?”

Trevor looked at Neil like he was starting to lose it. “If you mean that guy right there, then no, he didn't disappear,” Trevor said. “Are you even looking in the right direction?”

Neil shrugged. With the amount of sleep he'd had over the last two nights, he thought he was probably hallucinating.

His eyes started to drift closed again, so he pinched himself to stay awake. Suddenly, the exterior doors leading into the courtyard opened.

“We've got movement on the outside doors,” Neil radioed. He watched as what looked to be the two captured pilots were escorted out into the shaggy green grass, blindfolds securely in place. Three hulking guards in matching khaki were behind them.

Neil blinked furiously, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and surveyed the scene. He watched as the heavy door closed behind them and other guards moved past on their rounds. What had happened to Jones, Lopez, and Wells?

After quickly doing a guard head count, Neil saw an opportunity.

“Sam, read me?” Neil asked.

“Copy that, ManofNeil. Those our men?” she asked.

“They are. Listen, I have an idea. We don't know how much longer Jones and the others will be in there. But our pilots are
here
, with only three guards. We outnumber these guys four to one.”

“That leaves just one human limb for each of us to restrain. I'd say that's pretty doable,” Sam replied.

“Everybody else? This could be our chance to make a move. What do you think?” Neil asked his fellow drowsy soldiers.

“We're probably not going to get much better odds than that,” calculated JP. “I agree it's our best shot.” A few others murmured in support.

“Are you kidding me?” Trevor snapped. “Look at them. They are guards! Let me remind you that
I'm
the only one who conquered the Decider.”

Neil clenched his teeth. The only reason Trevor had “conquered” anything was because he'd stepped on Neil's face in the process.

“Let's vote on it,” Sam suggested before Neil could say another word.

“Fine,” Trevor snapped. “We can vote.” But after the count, only two others voted with him: Yuri and Riley. Everyone else sided with Neil.

“Okay,” Neil said. “That's a majority. Everybody, follow my mark. Let's finish this mission before Jones even has to worry about it.”

Following his lead, the kids all scrambled out of their fighters, opening the invisible cockpits and jumping outside.

“
Now!
” Neil yelled. They made a run for the three guards holding their pilots captive, shouting war cries as they each made for a limb.

Neil grabbed hold of a leg that felt like a small, strong sapling. He wrapped himself firmly around the guard's ankle and twisted until he felt the towering person beginning to fall toward the ground, his movement restricted.

Seeing the others springing to action, Yuri and Riley left the company of Trevor's scowl and sprinted awkwardly toward the commotion.

“Neil!” yelled Jason 1, who chucked his flight helmet like a football toward the guard Neil was trying to take down. It struck the guard's head with just enough force to send him barreling to the ground. “Touchdown!” Jason 1 turned and rushed to the aid of Jason 2.

Neil looked over at his victim—only to lock eyes with Jones.

“Andertol, what are you doing? You're blowing our cover!” shouted Jones, tearing off his sunglasses and stolen hat. He and the others had worn them to blend in, Neil realized. His hat had the same patch as the one on the sleeves of each guard.

What had he done? Jones, Wells, and Lopez had stolen uniforms, posing as guards, and had almost escaped with the captured pilots. Thinking he was helping—thinking he was doing something right—Neil had ruined everything.

“Stop, everyone, stop! Same team! Same team!” Neil screamed. He looked over to see that his plan, unfortunately, had worked. Wells and Lopez were on the ground, the laces of their boots tied securely to opposite wrists. It seemed Dale knew a thing or two about hog-tying wild animals.

Neil fumbled to untie Wells and Lopez so that they could all escape, but it was too late—the real guards were running their way. A siren started to blare angrily through the courtyard.

“Just go!” yelled Jones, yanking Neil up from where he knelt, still struggling with Dale's complicated knots. “There's no time. I'll hold them off. Just don't let them get the Chameleons!”

“But we can't leave—

“Yes, you can!” Jones bellowed, giving Neil a shove. Then he turned to face the two guards attacking him. “You want some of this?” he growled. “I could take out you scrawny punks with my eyes closed!”

“Come on!” Neil said, directing the rest of the recruits to follow him. He was running faster than he'd ever run in his life, faster than he even thought was possible. But not all the kids were so lucky. Next to him, Corinne was yanked back by one of the hulking guards. Another snatched up Riley, who started thrashing as he was lifted into the air like a potted plant. Neil hesitated for an instant. How could he let his friends be captured?

“Run, my lordship! Save thyself!” crowed Riley.

Neil turned and sprinted with the others back toward the planes. There were a few collisions, as the Chameleons were still invisible, but using the hand sensor technology, the rest of the recruits found their way inside the planes.

 

From the cockpits the kids watched the chaos unfolding on the lawn. Jones was being attacked by five or six guards. Four each were needed for both Wells and Lopez. And a few more of their own had been captured—Yuri and the Jasons as well as Corinne and Riley.

“Time for takeoff,” Sam said from her jet.

Trevor, who was back in the pilot's seat, turned on the ignition, and they lifted off. The plane quickly started to move up and away from the courtyard. Next to Trevor, Neil pressed his face against the window to try to get a good view of what was happening. A flurry of guards ran out of the warehouse, followed by another person who seemed to be in charge—he wore a white captain's hat that reminded Neil of Weo's, but Neil couldn't see much else.

Come on, look up, look up
, Neil thought furiously. This was the person who'd stolen a Chameleon and now had captured his friends. He had to see who it was.

As Neil was about to turn away back to his copiloting duties, the person with the hat tilted his head up. Neil gasped aloud. It was
Harris
, the kid from the pizza place the night before. And he was looking straight at them.

THE CHAMELEONS DARTED BACK THE WAY THEY HAD COME, the nervous pilots frantically guiding them to the main island. A few minutes later, the three planes landed at the barn, and everyone immediately climbed out of the fighters. The remaining recruits all began to talk at once, yelling over one another, but Neil remained silent. This was his fault, and he knew that only he could get his friends back. He turned around slowly, surveying who was left: Trevor, Sam, Biggs, JP, and the twins, Dale and Waffles.

“Well, what do we do now?” demanded Trevor of no one in particular.

“Yeah, what now?” repeated Waffles, who was probably in desperate need of a multiplayer game, or something with high-fructose corn syrup.

“This was your big idea, Ashley! It's all your fault we're in this mess!” Trevor reminded Neil.

“Dudes, chill. Please!” Biggs shouted.

“What do we do without Jones? What are they gonna do with everybody else?” shouted Dale.

“Everyone, just
shut up
!” Sam stood at the center of the group, her chest heaving in frustration. She grabbed Biggs's hacky sack from the ground. Biggs started to open his mouth in protest, but she glared at him, staring him down. “Now,” she said more calmly, “if you have an idea, please tell the group, one at a time. You can only talk if you have the hacky sack. Okay?”

Waffles reached to yank the beanbag out of her grip. “I say we just storm the fences, plow in there, and rescue everyone,” he said. “We've got three of the most advanced fighters ever! Why are we just sitting around waiting?”

“Because that's a great way to get killed,” said Trevor, pulling the hacky sack from Waffles. “What if, instead, we find a way to disable their communications grid?”

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Waffles shot back.

“No talking without the sack!” Sam interrupted. JP took the hacky sack swiftly and held it close to his chest, refusing to surrender it to Trevor. “Well, Jones said there was a distress signal or something, right? A magnetic pulse? Could we set that off from the planes we have?”

Sam held out her hand for the hacky sack, shaking her head. “I don't know if we could figure that out without actually destroying one of the planes. I'm pretty sure that's a last-minute distress-call type of thing. Like if it's really under attack.”

The group fell silent. No one had any idea what to do.

“Tell you what—I think we just need some food,” Biggs said suddenly. “Let's go back to the pizza place, see if Penny is setting up for breakfast. Maybe we can figure something out there.”

Tired and without any better ideas, everyone mumbled in agreement. They followed Biggs out of the barn, hustling along the path they'd walked just a few hours ago. The sun was rising on the horizon, illuminating everything with a pale-gold light. A few surfers waded in the water, their dark shadows bobbing with the current.

“What are we gonna do, Neil?” Sam whispered, falling into step beside him.

“I don't know.” Neil sighed. He knew it sounded crazy, but he really wanted to tell Sam what he'd seen earlier. “Listen,” he said, “remember that kid from last night? Harris, the one from that pizza place?”

“Yeah, what about him?” Sam asked. She kicked a small rock with the toe of her shoe, moving it forward along the dirt path, only to kick it again in a few steps.

“Well, I think he's behind this,” Neil blurted out.

Sam paused in her tracks. “Okay,” she said carefully. “What makes you say that?”

“Let me start over. When we were coming in yesterday, we kinda crashed on the smaller island.”

“You
what
?”

“It was totally Trevor's fault. I mean, we were fine, but we lost our gear in the jungle and . . .”

“Whoa, slow down, partner. Jungle?”

“Sorry,” he said. “Yeah, we took the scenic way in. Anyway, Jones made me and Trevor go find the gear, and we wound up meeting this kid, Weo, who lives in a tree house.”

“Oh . . . that's cool,” said Sam, who seemed a little shocked by all this.

“Yeah. Well, sort of. He told us about the islands and how there was this scary billionaire who lived on his own island,” Neil continued. “And that fortress or whatever we were just in—that's where the billionaire lives or works or something.”

“But what makes you think this has anything to do with Harris?” Sam asked.

“Just now, when we were at the warehouse and Jones and everyone got caught, I saw him,” Neil insisted. “And all the guards were definitely following his orders. You could tell by the way they were answering to him.”

Sam frowned, considering what Neil had just told her. “It's possible,” she said. “At the very least, he's connected to the bad guy.”

Neil and Sam kept walking, falling silent as they both thought through possible plans.

“You know, I remember how weird everybody got when he came into Penny's last night. Something about that didn't seem right,” she said as they approached the entrance of the pizza place.

The front door was locked, but Neil could hear Penny humming as she flipped an omelet in a frying pan behind the counter. “Excuse me, Penny?” he yelled, leaning on the door and cupping his hands around his mouth. Moments later, the door opened to reveal Penny standing there, grinning and holding a giant mixing bowl.

“Well, look who's up bright and early,” she said. “It's Mr. Picky Eater and his friends. I'm happy to whip you kids up some omelets, as long as you aren't as picky as Plain Cheese over here.” Everyone quickly stammered to assure her they weren't picky at all. “Great,” Penny said. “In that case, get ready for the best ostrich-egg omelet you've ever tasted.”

“The only ostrich-egg omelet we've ever tasted,” Neil muttered.

“I heard you,” Penny said. “And that changes today. Sit down, kids.”

They all plopped down at one of the long tables and leaned back, too exhausted even to talk, while Penny started frying their omelets on the grill. A few minutes later, a haggard group walked into the restaurant. They all wore polo shirts that said, in dark cursive,
FIVE-PIECE BANDWIDTH TECH SUPPORT
.

“Hello, computer boys,” said Penny. They all waved. “Late night at the fire jam?”

“Ugh, you don't even know. I think I woke up with two dozen glow sticks around my body,” said one of them.

“Still not ready for that Wi-Fi, Penny?” asked another. “We could have you up and running in no time. You could be selling your pizzas online! You're missing out on a big opportunity!”

She responded with a laugh. “The day this place is online is the day I quit making pizza,” she said. “Anyway, you boys need to finish up tinkering with that video game here. Your toolbox is still behind it. When you unplug it, I swear the whole thing nearly sets fire.”

“Soon, Penny. We're too tired to even move right now, but we promise. As long as it stays plugged in, you'll be fine.”

Penny laughed and turned to the recruits, still wiped out at their table. “Kids, you know Five-Piece Bandwidth? The only tech support on the island! They sing harmonies while providing technical assistance,” she announced like a proud aunt.

“Nice to meet you,” Neil mumbled, and the tech support guys nodded back.

“Neil,” said Sam, leaning in and lowering her voice. “Tell everybody what you think you saw.”

And so Neil told the other recruits his theory about the mysterious billionaire who'd captured the Chameleon and how he thought that billionaire was Harris. He was worried no one would believe him, but they were glued to his words. “So, yeah,” he concluded. “I can't really say for certain, but I know I saw him lead all those guards out, yelling at them. If he's not in charge, he's at least someone important.”

“Okay,” JP said thoughtfully. “If this Harris is the guy, how do we get to him?”

“Sam could go on a date with him!” Trevor exclaimed. “She could make him fall in love with her and then force him to tell us where everyone is held captive.”

“Ew, gross,” replied Sam. “No, for so many reasons. The first of which being what I imagine his breath smells like.”

“Should we try breaking in?” offered Dale. “I could shoot a rope up to the top if we wanted to climb. I just turned pro in Rodeo Ricky Presents: Lads and Lassos.”

“I don't know if that's enough to get past Harris's defenses,” Neil said dubiously.

“You say Harris?” one of the uniformed tech support members cut in on his way back from the counter. He was large, with chubby cheeks and parted greasy hair, and he looked sort of like a sumo wrestler in training. He blew on a pineapple pizza to cool it down, then looked up at them. “That little punk owes us a thousand bucks. If you see him, make sure to give him a piece of my mind.”

“All our minds,” added another of the tech support team. He took a bite of his pizza, chewing with his mouth open.

“We rigged his warehouse into a hashtag paradise,” said another member, stuffing his mouth full of melted cheese.

“And I still have this piece-of-junk arcade game he gave me,” Penny joined in, shouting over the sizzle of ostrich-egg omelets in a saucepan. “I wish you would just tell him to come pick it up. Some moneymaker that was. What person comes to play around with little ostriches?”

Neil felt a little bad—he'd thought the game was kind of fun.

“Hey, guys,” Sam said, in a way that Neil recognized from all their games together. It meant she was coming up with a plan. “If we can't break in . . . we should just get
invited
in.”

Everyone looked at her, slightly unsure. Penny rang a silver bell, announcing that their ostrich-egg omelets were ready and waiting.

“What's the one thing no nerd can live without?” Sam asked as a smile stretched across her face.