Spangler taps a few buttons on his tablet, and I feel a rumbling of motors beneath my feet. Suddenly the ground jerks. The kids hoot and holler, leaping away as the floor slides aside. Chloe takes my hand and pulls me along.
“C’mon, silly, before you fall in.” She giggles, leading me to safety as a massive swimming pool is uncovered. It’s probably twice as big as the one at the YMCA, tiled in blue, with diving boards and depth markers along the perimeter. The salty smell of seawater tickles my nose when it’s finally exposed.
“Kids, do you see the glove on Lyric’s hand? We call that an Oracle. Remember how I talked about the Oracles? Well, Lyric knows how to make one work. Lyric, why don’t you give us a little presentation?” Spangler asks.
“I think the battery is dead,” I say.
He taps his tablet and then smiles smugly. “Give it a try.”
A tiny bolt of electricity zips through my bloodstream, around my mind, along my shoulders, and down my arm into my hand. The metal explodes with crackling light, bathing everything in blue. The children ooh and ahh like we’re at a circus, and I realize that’s what this place is—Tempest is a circus, and Spangler is the ringmaster, and we’re a bunch of poodles leaping through rings and walking on balls. I stare at him. I hate this man. I hate how he has all the answers, how he’s planned every detail. I hate how confident he looks that this is all going to work out for him and his company and his clients.
I’m going to love showing him how wrong he’s been.
What would you have us do?
“End him,” I whisper.
A huge greedy hand reaches out of the pool. It grabs Spangler tight, and with lightning speed it drags him in and pulls him to the bottom.
Guns are drawn and soldiers rush at me, aiming their weapons at my head. I hear them click off their safeties. I’m surprised by how much I don’t care. They can shoot me if they want. In fact, they probably should, because once Spangler has taken his last breath, they’re all next.
“Lyric, you should let him up,” Doyle says.
“I’m just showing the kids what their Oracles can do, Uncle David,” I taunt. “No need to worry.”
The children murmur with concern. Spangler has won all of their hearts with his big smiles and promises. It makes me wish the pool were deeper. I could drag him down and let his skull crack open from the pressure.
“You’re hurting him,” Geno says.
“No, no! He’s going for a swim,” I say. “He’s enjoying himself.”
“Lyric, that’s enough!” Doyle demands.
“Let him up. He’s human. He can’t breathe down there,” Priscilla begs.
“It’s going to be okay, kids,” I promise. “I’m going to make this all okay.”
Four guards storm my way, but with a single thought, funnels of water slam into them and send them flailing.
“I’m counting to three,” another soldier says as he levels his rifle at my face.
“I’ll only need two,” I whisper to him.
“Lyric Walker, release him!” a voice booms from the other side of the room. I turn in shock, because I recognize it. Fathom is here, racing toward me like a blur until he’s got his hand clasped around my wrist. “That is enough.”
“What are you doing?” I cry.
“Spangler is necessary,” Fathom says to me. “I cannot let him be harmed.”
I yank my hand away from him, horrified by his betrayal.
I turn off the glove, not because he asked, but because I am shocked that he asked. Of all the people in this world, I thought Fathom would want Spangler dead.
Our captive swims to the surface and takes a strangling gasp of air before Fathom helps him out of the pool. Spangler hunches on hands and knees, coughing up water. At the bottom of the pool, I can see his tablet.
“Kids, it’s fine! Lyric and I planned this all along,” Spangler cries. “We wanted to show what you can do to an enemy. Sorry, we weren’t trying to scare you. We . . . we were showing off. The Oracles are pretty cool, huh?”
The children’s faces move from shock to eagerness; then they break into applause.
“When do we get our Oracles?” Riley asks.
“Soon, and you can thank our new friend Fathom. He brought them to us all the way from the ocean,” Spangler says, climbing to his feet to shake Fathom’s hand. I’m horrified to see Fathom return it. “Lyric will show you how they work. Then we’re all going to go back to Coney Island to save the world.”
The children cheer and clap. Their eyes are full of wonder and excitement. Chloe hugs her bunny and grins at me.
I am sure I’m going to scream.
Chapter Sixteen
TWO GUARDS WALK ME BACK TO MY ROOM, each with a loaded pistol aimed at my head.
“That was a pretty stupid stunt,” one of them says to me.
“It was only stupid because it didn’t work,” I mumble.
Once inside my room, I find chaos. Furniture lies broken and strewn about. There’s a hole in one wall shaped roughly like a person. It opens into the bathroom. There are a few more like it on other walls. Glass shards litter the carpet. Bex and my mother hover over my father, who is slumped against a wall. Two more soldiers tower over him. Each have busted knuckles and batons.
I try to activate the glove, but Spangler has turned it off again, so I rush to the guard holding my mother down and swing. He blocks my punch and pushes me down to the floor.
“Be smart, freak!” he bellows.
The door opens, and Spangler enters the room with a dozen guards behind him.
“You did this to him?” I ask as I get to my feet.
He nods, then taps something on a new tablet. When he’s finished, he gives me a cold stare.
“You need to understand a few things. When you don’t fall in line, I will hurt the people you love. I took the liberty of preparing your family’s cells this morning. They are ready for their return. The science team is prepped and ready for experiments. Gentlemen, let’s empty this room.”
The guards step forward, revealing that each is carrying a long, black stick. They press a button on their handles, and they hum with electricity.
“No! Leave them alone!” I shout.
“You challenged the alpha dog, Lyric!” Spangler shouts. “Throats must be ripped out.”
One of the soldiers pulls my father to his feet, causing him to groan in agony. Another drags Bex toward the door, but I step in his way. He shoves me hard, and I fall. This time I grab his leg and wrap around it like a snake.
I hear my mother scream when they hit her with one of the batons.
“I’ll do what you want!” I shriek. “Don’t take them. I’ll do whatever you want. I promise.”
Spangler waves his hand, and the guards release my family. They exit the room, leaving Spangler standing amid the destruction.
“Am I a fool?” he asks me.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’m trying to be a nice guy here. Am I being a fool?”
I shake my head.
He measures me for a long time, then kneels down to my level. He removes my hat and then rubs the top of my head like I’m a dog, even going so far as to scratch behind my ears. His touch makes me cringe, but it’s the humiliation that sets me on edge.
“Can you promise to behave?”
I hesitate and he clamps his hand on my jaw and gives my head a jerk.
“Can you behave?”
I nod.
“Good dog,” he says, as a smile creeps across his face. He stands and looks around at the chaos of the room. “What a mess. I’ll send someone down to help clean this up.”
A moment later he’s gone, taking his soldiers with him.
My mother gets to her feet and helps my father sit in the only chair that survived the beating. I wrap Bex in my arms and do my best to calm her trembling.
“This is my fault,” I say.
“No, it’s not,” my father says between painful winces. “Besi
des, your mother did most of this. She’s mean when you make her angry.”
“Don’t joke,” she lectures. “This is serious.”
“Then I blame Fathom,” I say. His name is bitter in my mouth.
“Fathom?” Bex asks.
“I had a chance to end this, and Fathom stopped me. He’s working with Spangler. He brought all the kids their own gloves.”
“Did he . . . was last night . . . ?”
“What happened last night?” my father asks.
“Nothing,” I lie.
There’s a knock at the door, and we all go quiet as mice.
My mother stands and moves toward it.
“Stay behind me,” she urges, her muscles tense and ready. When she opens the door, Fathom is waiting.
“I wish to speak with Lyric Walker,” he says.
A million ugly words fight to be the first to come out of my mouth, but I never get the chance. Bex steps forward and points her finger in his face.
“You don’t get to talk to her anymore. Do you understand me?” she shouts.
He looks over her shoulder to me, clearly hoping I will intervene. All I can think to do is give him the finger.
“I’ve tolerated your brooding crap because she loves you,” Bex continues. “But we’re done! Your stupidity and arrogance bore me, and now you’re a traitor, too? There’s something wrong with you, man. Your head isn’t right, and we’ve got all the crazy we can handle right now, so turn around and go. In fact, why don’t you go back to your fiancée and try to explain to her what you’ve been up to? I doubt she’s going to be happy about it. I might not be able to kick your ass, but I know she can.”
“Lyric Walker?” he pleads. “Just a few words.”
For so many days and nights, Fathom has given me the strength to keep going. He’s been the escape from a terrible reality. Last night was more than I ever hoped it could be—gentle, passionate, loving, and when we fell asleep against each other, I was sure I would never trust anyone as much as I trusted him. Now he’s made me regret the best moments of my entire life, and I hate him for it.
“I’m such a stupid little girl,” I say out loud, but it’s not meant for anyone else but me.
“Please,” he begs.
“Leave me alone,” I say, and I turn my back on him. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”
I hear Bex slam the door. The sound rattles my heart. She takes my hand and leads me past my bewildered parents and into the bathroom.
“Can someone explain what is happening?” my father shouts when Bex closes the door.
“Let it go, Leonard,” my mother says.
Bex sits me down on the side of the tub and puts my head on her shoulder and lets me cry and cry and cry. We have been in this same exact situation before, maybe not locked in a camp, but on the edge of a tub sobbing about some dumb boy. It’s oddly comforting that in this nightmare life of mine there are still some things that are familiar and dependable. Bex will always be here to let me cry.
“He’s not good enough for you,” she whispers. “You’re Lyric Walker, the second-hottest babe in Coney Island, behind me. He was totally dating up.”
I laugh through the crying.
“Plus, the whole love triangle thing played out in 2005. Why would you put yourself through that tired cliché? You’re better than having to try to convince someone to pick you. In fact, I know you are sad, but I have to be honest and tell you I’m really very ashamed of you. What the hell happened to your self-esteem?”
“I couldn’t help myself,” I cry defensively.
“At the center of every love triangle is always a complete ass.” She sighs. “He gets to be Captain Wishy-Washy while the dummies who love him fight for his attention. It’s manipulative and pathetic. They should call them loser triangles.”
“You’re still trying to make me feel better, right?”
Bex laughs and squeezes me tight.
“Well, I was saving this for your birthday, but I think you need it now,” she says, reaching into her jumpsuit and pulling out a tube of cherry lip gloss from the pocket. She places it in my hand. I pop off the top and smell it. The scent is fruity and biting.
“Where did you get this?”
“From Luisa and Carmen,” she says.
“Who?”
“The spa ladies! We’re tight. You know, you really should learn some Spanish. It’s kind of embarrassing.”
I apply a coat and taste the phony cherry flavor on my tongue, then hand it to Bex, who does the same.
“This is the worst hotel I have ever stayed in,” she says.
I laugh and laugh, and then I cry some more.
“When we check out of this place, we’re stealing the towels,” she says.
Doyle comes for me in the morning. He doesn’t say anything, but he watches my father and mother as if he’s concerned for them. He’s smart enough to know we don’t want him around, so he retreats to the hall while I get dressed.
“Honey, if you get your chance today, take it,” my mother whispers to me. She looks around the room as if she suspects we’re being listened to. I hate to admit it wasn’t even something I’d considered, but now I can’t stop imagining microphones hidden in the beds and pillows.
“If I fail, they will hurt you,” I whisper back.
My mother nods that she understands, then my dad, then Bex.
“Take the shot,” my father says.
Moments later I’m on the catwalk above the park, looking down as the children race through the trees. They’re playing a game of hide-and-seek, giggling as they scamper for their favorite spots. I marvel at their joy. Doyle said he wanted this place to be a safe harbor for the children and it’s working. They really don’t know what’s happening here. They think their parents are sick, bravely fighting some imaginary illness, rather than starving in solitary confinement just a few floors above. They don’t realize that their Alpha parents are guinea pigs in a mad scientist lab that’s only an elevator trip away. How can they not know that something is wrong? How can they not suspect that everything around them is a lie?
As I watch, I can’t help but think about what my family wants me to do and how it will turn their lives upside down. Take the shot. And then what?
If I go after Spangler, I will have to attack Fathom and Doyle and the guards and quite possibly the children. Chloe is hiding in a shrub near the carousel, her face as clear as if she were sitting right next to me. I wonder if she would try to stop me if I had a chance to get us out of here. Would Harrison? Georgia? Finn? Priscilla? Would Riley stand in my way too? Is Spangler’s hold on them so powerful that they can’t see the difference between right and wrong? It sounds far-fetched, but I’m not so sure it’s impossible. Fathom betrayed me to protect him, and he is the most strong-willed—no, stubborn person I’ve ever met. Even I felt it a bit when I was locked in that cell. I remember hearing the buzzer and leaping up to get into the circle. I was so eager to please. It hurts to admit it, but I wanted Spangler to be proud of me. I wanted to be a good dog.
I don’t know how to stop him without ripping the throats out of all his pack. First, I need to figure out how he’s blocking my glove. If I can find the switch, I can do some serious damage. I could find Arcade, and we could finish what we set out to do. She must be in the tank with the other Alpha, but—
“You’ll never make it work,” Doyle says. He’s been standing beside me the whole time.
“Make what work?”
“I can see what you’re thinking. You might as well put it on a billboard. You’re working on scenarios.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, then turn my back on him so he can’t see the lie.
“I’m not going to tell you to stop. It’s how you’re made. I’d do the same thing if I were you. We’re the same kind of animal. I’m just saying it’s not going to work. I helped design this place and—”
“You and I are nothing alike,” I hiss.
“Le
t’s work it out together. How do you get all the Alphas upstairs out of their tanks? How do you get all the parents out of solitary? How do you free these kids? How do you avoid the guards and Spangler and me and get your injured father out of his room and still turn off the EMP device all at the same time?”
“EMP?”
He chuckles. “I like you, Lyric. You’d make a good soldier. EMP stands for electo-magnetic pulse. It’s what’s turning off your power. It’s used in military-grade weapons to knock out electronics. Thing is, your weapon doesn’t run on electricity. We really don’t know what makes it work, but the EMP has the same effect. Any idea what makes that thing on your hand tick?”
“Always the soldier, Doyle. If I knew, I wouldn’t tell you. Unless you want to tell me where to find the EMP?”
He laughs. “So you’re going to try again?”
I don’t respond.
“You’ll fail, Lyric,” he continues. “You might kill Spangler, but they’ll replace him with someone worse.”
“I don’t plan to stick around to find out.”
“And what about the kids?”
“If you want to send a daycare center into a war zone, that’s really on you,” I say. “Because as much as you’ve trained them and prepared them, that’s a playdate down there and nothing more. Chloe won’t let go of her stuffed bunny. Geno can’t tie his own shoelaces. They’re not killers.”
“You underestimate them,” he argues.
I can’t stand to be near him any longer.
“Let’s get started,” I snap, then descend the steps to the park.
Spangler spots me and calls the children in from their games. The little army rushes to meet me and gathers around with their eager faces.
“Today is a big day, kids,” Spangler says. “We’re being joined by some new faces.”
The door opens, and Terrance Lir enters. He looks like he’s aged forty years. His eyes are watery, and his hair has turned white. He pushes a wheelchair with his son, Samuel, in it. I haven’t seen Sammy in so long. I run to his side and kneel down, hoping to catch his eyes.
“Sammy. It’s so good to see you.”
He struggles to look at me as his whole body shakes. When the gangs back home found out that he was half Alpha, they beat him and left him for dead. He was once a promising basketball star; now he can’t feed himself. He can’t talk, but he gives me a little smile to let me know he remembers me.