Zeke Bartholomew (8 page)

Much of the circuitry board was fried. The wires had grown corrosive. Diodes ruined. I pulled a box off the shelf, rifled through it, and spilled a mess of pieces onto the table. I could feel Sparrow's eyes watching me intently. I had no intention of letting her down.

I put on a pair of magnifying glasses to get a better look at the circuit board close up. It didn't look good.

The first step was replacing the destroyed wiring. With a pair of tweezers, I gently removed the burned wires, including pieces stuck to the board. I opened up a fresh toothbrush from a box and dipped it in rubbing alcohol. Using my makeshift cleaner, I brushed away any residue and scraped off any bits of metal and wiring that had fastened themselves to the board. Any debris I threw into a small box. Some of it might be able to be repurposed later. Then I took a soldering iron and replaced the damaged wires with fresh ones.

It was a painstaking, arduous process, not made easier at all by the fact that Sparrow spent the entire time leaning over my shoulder and asking unhelpful questions like, “Are you sure you're not breaking it?”

“Your ComLet fell from a plane, landed in a lake, and short-circuited. And you're asking me if
I'm
breaking it?”

Finally she got the picture and backed off a bit. I got the sense that Sparrow was not used to anybody other than herself having control over a situation. And it was just as strange for me. The only situation I tend to have control over is how much milk I pour into my cereal in the morning.

Half an hour after I began, I'd done all I could. The wires were replaced. The board cleaned of all residue. I still had no idea if any of this would work—but there was only one way to find out.

I handed the newly repaired ComLet back to Sparrow. “Give it a whirl.”

She took it from me and turned it over in her hands. “Let's see just what kind of whiz kid you are, Zeke.”

Sparrow strapped the device back onto her wrist, then held a pair of buttons on the outer rim. For a moment, nothing happened. No sounds, nothing. My heart sank. Sparrow looked dejected. Then…a light began to blink. It was yellow. I pointed at it.

“What…what does that mean?”

Sparrow's eyes lit up. “That means it's recalibrating. It's what happens after you restore the ComLet to its original settings. It means it's working.”

There was a faint humming sound. The yellow light began to blink, and then it turned green. And once it turned green, the computer inside activated. It lit up in front of us. I couldn't tell what was beaming brighter—me or the ComLet.

“It works!” Sparrow cried out.

I smiled. “Of course it does. That's what I do.” I had mentally given the ComLet about a fifty-fifty chance of actually working, but I didn't tell Sparrow that.

“This is incredible, Zeke,” she said, toggling around with the newly fixed ComLet. “How did you learn how to do all this?”

“I taught myself.”

She looked up from the hardware.

“Seriously?”

“Um…yeah. I've always had a knack for gadgets and stuff. Always wanted to make my own things. But science and physics teachers never really teach you more than what will help you pass pop quizzes. I wanted to go beyond that. I wanted to be like Q.”

“Q?”

“You know, from the James Bond movies. The guy who makes all the cool things, like grappling hooks that look like cocktail napkins and lasers built into rabbits' feet.”

“I must have missed those movies.”

I laughed long and deep until my sides hurt. Then I stopped. “Wait…you're serious?”

“I never had time for movies. I was out actually saving the world.”

“Yeah. I see how that could eat into your free time.”

Sparrow fiddled with her ComLet. “We need to go back to the surface. It doesn't get good reception down here.”

“Are you kidding me? Who manufactures your devices, a blind marmot? I could build a cell phone that gets five-bar reception down here in one day, and SNURP, with all its resources, can't do it?”

I could see Sparrow beginning to boil under the collar. No sense arguing. We'd need to get back to the surface anyway. Hopefully at that point we could get her ComSuckLet working and figure out how to stop Operation Songbird.

“Let's go,” she said, and we both turned back to leave the GeekDen.

“Oh, crap,” I said.

Standing there in the doorway was Kyle.

“Hey, uh, Zeke,” he said. “Who the heck is
she
, and why did you let her in here?”

I'm Zeke's cousin. Stephanie.”

Sparrow responded without a moment's hesitation. It led me to believe she'd been caught in predicaments like this before and had the lie well rehearsed. Sadly, I did not.

“Your cousin?” Kyle asked, eyes narrowed. “I thought your aunt lived in North Dakota.”

“She does,” I stammered. “They're visiting.”

“And didn't you tell me you couldn't stand your cousin Dougie? Didn't he smell like kitty litter or something?”

“Mixed with bacon,” I replied.

“Yeah. Bacon. I don't remember you mentioning a girl cousin.”

“What, do I need to explain my whole life to you? Who are you, my boss? Boss Kyle? Huh? What's your problem anyway?”

Penalty on Zeke: being way too defensive.

“Take it easy,” Kyle said. He was nearly as tall as the GeekDen ceiling and practically had to hunch over so as not to scrape his head on the rocks. “Look, I don't really care. But you weren't in school today. I called your house; your dad is freaking out. He said you weren't home last night. Cops are everywhere looking for you.”

“Cops?” Sparrow said, suddenly interested in the conversation.

“Yeah. I stopped by your place, Zeke. Cops have been talking to your dad all morning. He said you two had dinner, and that's the last he remembers seeing you. Where've you been, dude? The whole town is freaking out like it's under alien attack. It's actually kinda exciting. Like our town won the Super Bowl or something.”

I sank backward, finding a stool, and sighed. Cops everywhere. Looking for me. My dad a nervous wreck. He'd always been protective, especially after my mom died, and my heart broke thinking about the grief this had likely caused him. How could I have been so selfish? Getting into that car like I was some stupid child being offered candy. I'd seen so many movies and read so many spy novels that I'd foolishly begun to think I really was one. And it had brought my father heartache and exposed him to people far more dangerous than anything I could have ever imagined.

This wasn't a game. There wouldn't be any end credits. It was time to end this. It was time to go back to being Zeke Bartholomew, Übernerd. That's who I was. That's all I was.

“Come on,” I said to Kyle. “Let's go.”

“Wait,” Sparrow said, grabbing hold of my arm. “Where do you think you're going?”

“Home, to my dad,” I said. “Look, I don't know anything. And if there are cops everywhere, we'll be safe until this whole thing blows over. You have your wristband back and working. You can handle this. Nice seeing you again, ‘Stephanie.'”

“You're not thinking this through,” Sparrow whispered through gritted teeth. She was staring at Kyle, clearly not wanting to talk any specifics around him. I was glad she felt that way—enough people in my life were in danger because of me. “That ‘appointment' is in just a few hours,” she said. “I need you there. I'm all alone on this.”

I looked back at Sparrow. I didn't know what she wanted from me, or what she needed me for.

“It totally is appointment viewing, I know,” Kyle said. “I can't wait.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked him.

“Have you gone brain dead? The concert. Tonight at eight o'clock. The debut music video.”

“What music video?” Sparrow said.

“Duh,” Kyle said. “Penny Bowers and Jimmy Peppers. PB&J. They're introducing the first single from their new album. It's supposed to be, like, the most-watched event in TV history. Our whole school will be watching. Every kid in every school will be watching. Every kid in the world will be watching, and every parent who pretends to not like them. The news predicts more people will watch this new video than the moon landing.”

Sparrow and I looked at each other. We were thinking the same thing.

“Are you thinking…” she said, her voice full of trepidation.

“I am.”

“Then…”

“I agree. We need to go get sandwiches.”

She looked at me like I'd just farted drumsticks.

“Sandwiches. That was a joke,” I said. “I know. PB&J. Operation Songbird. The timing seems to make sense.”

Sparrow spun around to look at Kyle. “How many people are going to be watching this video, did you say?”

“I don't know,” Kyle said. “Their last video supposedly was watched by, like, a hundred million people. And everyone expects this one to be bigger. If you're not watching it, you're a giant loser. And nobody wants to be the only one in school the next day who didn't see it.”

“Hundreds of millions of people…” Sparrow said, her voice trembling.

“Maybe more,” I said.

“You told me that this SirEebro device, that it could ‘hijack' sound waves. Use them to embed subliminal sounds or other things.”

Sparrow spoke in an emotionless tone. The enormity of what was happening was reaching her. “It was designed to use on our enemies. To hijack their communications systems. So that radio broadcasts, television signals could be commandeered. We could control what people thought, how they reacted. But it was never used. It was deemed by the Pentagon to be too unethical. Too dangerous. That's why it was being transported to SNURP headquarters. We were going to study it, not use it.”

“Well, somebody is about to use it. Le Carré is going to hijack the PB&J broadcast and brainwash hundreds of millions of people. He's going to turn the entire world into brain-dead zombies at his control.”

“Uh, Zeke?” Kyle said. I'd totally forgot he was standing there. “What are you two talking about?”

2:43 p.m.

Five hours and seventeen minutes until something really, really bad happens, and I don't even want to think about, because I have kind of a weak stomach…

We need to find where Le Carré is planning to broadcast from and stop him,” Sparrow said. She threw open the door and began to run through the sewers. Kyle was standing there, looking like a hurricane had just passed him by.

“Wait…um…Stephanie!” I shouted. It felt silly continuing this ruse, considering the fate of the free-brained world was at stake. But enough people had already gotten in trouble because of me, and if I could keep Kyle out of it any more than he already was, I would do that.

I ran after Sparrow, who'd already turned the corner.

The wrong corner.

I didn't know the sewers well enough that if she got lost we could find our way back.

Enough with the games. We didn't have time for this.

“Sparrow!” I cried out. I couldn't see her. And the sound of feet splashing could have come from anywhere. Why couldn't she just wait? What was it with all these spies and their lack of patience? They seriously needed to just lie down on a beach somewhere and read a trashy magazine or something.

“Zeke!” a voice cried out. It was Kyle. He'd followed us into the sewers. Of course he had. Sparrow and I had been talking some secret mumbo jumbo about the world ending. Who wouldn't be curious?

“Kyle!” I called back. Just great. Ahead of me was Sparrow, running off into who-knows-where, and behind me was Kyle, who was surely confused beyond belief. Aside from that, we couldn't have Kyle going out and telling the whole world about what he'd just heard. Not that anybody would believe him.

Yes, um, I think there's a massive global conspiracy involving a teeny-bopper band and brainwashing, and, um, my friend Zeke, who has pretty much never done anything more strenuous than roll the dice in a game of Dungeons and Dragons, is somehow involved in it.

Yeah. I could see a cop taking that
real
seriously.

Still, if my dad's life was in danger, so was Kyle's. Even if nobody sane believed him, there were some insane people out there clearly willing to do some horrific stuff to keep their secrets hidden. Sparrow had saved me because SNURP needed me. It was up to me to make sure Kyle returned safe and sound to his awkward, gangly self.

Sparrow was strong, tough. She could take care of herself for the time being.

I backtracked through the sewer toward Kyle.

“Kyle!” I cried out again. I ran around the corner, smack-dab into Kyle. We both fell over onto the cobblestone.

“Dude, what's going on? Who is that girl, really?”

“She's my…aw, never mind. Come on, we need to go.”

I grabbed Kyle's arm and began to pull him in the direction of the exit. To my surprise, he yanked back.

“Hold on, Zeke. I've known you for ten years, and I've never seen you like this. And I don't think you've ever lied to me. So don't start now. What the heck is going on, and who is that girl you keep calling Stephanie?”

I turned to Kyle, a swell of guilt rising in me.

“You're right,” I said. “I don't want to lie to you. So don't make me. Just please, Kyle, trust me on this and follow me. I'll explain everything when I get a chance, but right now there's no time.”

“Is this some sort of freaky spy role-playing game?” Kyle said. He laughed and clapped his hands together like he'd just solved a puzzle. “I bet that's it. She's some girl you met online and you're both pretending to be, what, MI6? CIA? FBI? Men in Black?”

“Dude, like I said, I won't lie to you…you're right. We're pretending to be CIA. And there's a bomb we need to defuse, and if we don't get out of here soon, our team is going to lose and then we have to drink a gallon of milk without puking.”

“Aw, that sucks. I gotcha, man. Come on, let's find your teammate. But, Zeke?”

“Yeah?” I said.

“Next time, ask me to play too. Sounds like fun.”

“I will. Now come on.”

We ran through the sewers, water splashing up all around us, soaking my pants. I didn't have time to think about how soggy and chilly I was. We needed to find Sparrow.

Then I heard a sound.

“Stop,” I said. Kyle halted in his tracks. I heard it again. It sounded like
eek.

It was Sparrow.

“Sparr—I mean, Stephanie!” I shouted. I began to jog toward where I thought the sound was coming from. The light wasn't very good down there, so I had to follow the shadows.

We rounded several corners, doubled back twice, and then came upon Sparrow. She'd hit a dead end.

“There you are,” I said. “Come on, we need to—”

“Just lead me to the way out,” she said, her eyes steely and dangerous.

“Wow, Stephanie doesn't mess around,” Kyle said.

“You have no idea,” I replied. “Okay, let's all stick together. The exit is this way.”

I'd memorized all our various routes, and after ten minutes of slogging through the muck I found the ladder that led back to the surface.

“You first,” I said to Kyle.

“Got it.”

My friend clambered up the rusty ladder, pushed open the grate above, and disappeared. Sparrow went next. Once there was enough room, I went last.

My heart was beating like a hummingbird. We had to figure out how to stop Le Carré. I trusted that Sparrow would know what to do once we'd all reconvened outside.

Instead, what I saw once I climbed through the grate chilled me to the bone.

Standing inside the shed was the massive, evil Ragnarok. In the crook of one massive arm he was holding both Kyle and Sparrow by their necks. They twitched in the grasp of his huge white gloves, the only thing keeping them from being burned alive by his molten skin. Kyle was petrified, his eyes bugging out of their sockets. Sparrow was struggling, but the huge monster's arm was the size of her entire body.

Ragnarok's red, red eyes focused on me. He'd fixed his visor. Red streams of magma flowed through his custom tubing. For a moment, I marveled at the science of it all, the physiology. What a creature this…thing…was.

And then Ragnarok spoke.

“I have no use for this one,” the monster said, squeezing Kyle's neck harder. My friend's face was going blue.

“He can't breathe!” I screamed. “Let him go!”

“I have no use for him,” Ragnarok said. “He will live. But you two
parasites
must die.”

With that, Ragnarok threw Kyle to the ground. He didn't move. Then the monster grabbed Sparrow by the neck. I ran at him and tried to rip at the magma tubing. I couldn't even scratch it.

“Let her go!” I yelled. “Take me! That's what you all wanted, right? The codes? I have them!”

The monster let loose a deep, bellowing laugh. His red face turned a shade of crimson. I could have sworn I saw a red tear drip down his cheek.

“I know who you are, Zeke Bartholomew. I hope your friend thanks you for what you've gotten him into.”

Ragnarok reached back, and his massive paw was suddenly around my neck. I struggled. He squeezed. I couldn't breathe, couldn't draw air into my lungs. I was fading…and so was Sparrow.

Spots appeared in front of my eyes. Then, just as I was about to lose consciousness, Ragnarok lifted us both off the ground and one at a time dropped us back into the dark, dank sewer.

I landed on my back, pain shooting through my legs. Sparrow landed next to me. I heard a terrible thud. She screamed and held her arm. Her shoulder looked out of place, and she rolled on the ground, clutching it.

I ignored the pain, gathered myself, and ran to the base of the ladder. I looked up.

Ragnarok was holding Kyle again. My friend was still breathing. Something to be thankful for.

But Ragnarok had removed the glove from his right hand. In that glowing appendage he held a small black orb. He squeezed it, opened his hand, and I saw that the orb was glowing a bright, shining red. Smoke cascaded from it.

My eyes widened. He was holding a fire grenade.

“Move!” I yelled to Sparrow. Grabbing her around the waist, I threw us forward, just as the beast tossed the red, smoking grenade into the sewer.

There was a huge explosion, and then everything went away.