Seven Wonders 3-Book Collection

  A low, focused hissss came from the ceiling. Three emergency lights flicked on, casting everything in a sickly bluish-white glow. I felt a tickle in my throat. Cass began coughing, then Aly.

  Torquin fell to his knees, his eyes red. Quickly he began ripping apart sections of his already ripped pants, then throwing the pieces to us. “Put on . . . nose!” he said, gasping for breath.

  “What’s happening?” Aly said, doubling over with violent coughs.

  Torquin jammed the fabric over his face. “Tear . . . gas!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LOCATION D

  I SANK TO the floor. My knees hit the concrete with a sharp crack, my eyes began to water, and I felt as if someone had crawled into my throat with a set of knives.

  Torquin was struggling with his rifle, looking toward the back of the room. There, a lab room door was swinging open to reveal a figure wearing a white coat and a gas mask. As the person came closer, Torquin took aim.

  I could see a black-and-gray ponytail protruding out from under the mask. As Torquin sneezed, the person bolted to the left.

  Aly was wheezing, convulsed into a ball. Cass looked dead. I tried to keep my eyes open, breathing directly into the fabric. I crawled around, following the masked figure, who was grabbing at the wall as if looking for something. I managed to close my fingers around an ankle and pulled. As the person fell to the floor, I reached up and yanked off the mask.

  “No!” screamed a voice. “Don’t!”

  I was face-to-face with Dr. Bradley, Professor Bhegad’s personal physician.

  And traitor.

  “You’re”—I gasped—“one of them, too?”

  I thought my lungs would ball up and burst. As I fell back, Dr. Bradley sank beside me, red-faced and choking, grasping desperately for her mask.

  With a grunt, she yanked it from my fingers. Climbing to her feet, she slipped the mask back on and steadied herself by grabbing the wall.

  I blinked like crazy but I was too weak to stand. Dr. Bradley was pulling open a metal panel on the wall, flipping a switch.

  She swung around toward me. My eyes were fluttering shut. Tear gas? I didn’t think so. This was some other poison. I was drifting into unconsciousness, fighting to stay alert.

  The last thing I saw before blacking out was Dr. Bradley looming over me like a colossus, reaching down toward my head.

  I awoke next to a corpse.

  Or at least that’s what I assumed it was—a body draped under a white sheet on a slablike table. I was lying on the floor. Rows of fluorescent lights beamed overhead, buzzing softly. As I tried to sit up, my head pounded.

  “Easy, Jack,” Dr. Bradley’s voice said. “We’re not quite done with Cass.”

  Blinking, I turned. Her back was facing me as she leaned over another table. Her ponytail spilled over the back of her lab coat. I could see Cass’s shoes sticking out from one side.

  “What happened?” I said.

  “Dr. Bradley thought we were Massa,” Aly’s voice replied. I got to my feet to see her, and my head throbbed with pain. She was sitting with Torquin against the wall near the door. Both of them were red in the face. I figured I was, too, from the aftereffects of the poison gas. “That’s why she activated the gas. When she realized who we were, she turned off the jets.”

  “I meant Cass,” I said. “What happened to Cass?”

  “Treatment,” Torquin replied.

  “But—but he’s not scheduled to need one yet,” I said.

  “He’s early,” Dr. Bradley spoke up. “One possibility is that the poison gas brought it on. That’s what I’m hoping.”

  “Hoping?” I asked.

  Aly sighed. “Remember what Professor Bhegad told us way back when we first got here? As we get closer to age fourteen, the effects of G7W start to accelerate. The episodes are more frequent, and the effects are stronger.”

  “When is Cass’s birthday?” I asked.

  “He doesn’t know,” Dr. Bradley said softly. “Even the KI, with all their resources, couldn’t get hold of his birth records. They were misfiled in some city hospital and possibly destroyed.”

  “So he may have less time than we do,” Aly said.

  Dr. Bradley shrugged. “The good news is that the treatment worked. For now, at least, he will be functional.”

  “Excellent . . . work,” said the corpse.

  The voice startled me. It was unmistakably Professor Bhegad’s. As I took a closer look at the figure under the sheet, I saw that its head and face weren’t covered. But even so, I might not have known the old professor. He was almost unrecognizable, his face chalk white, his eyes watery and small, his hair like a tangled mass of straw. “Good to see all of you,” he said, a line of drool dribbling from his mouth as he spoke. “I don’t know . . . how this happened.”

  As his eyes flickered and he drifted off, Dr. Bradley turned away from Cass. “Your friend should be fine for now. As for Professor Bhegad . . .” She took a washcloth from a nearby sink and placed it on the professor’s head. “He was thrown to the floor after an explosion. His lung collapsed, and it’s quite possible he has some internal injuries; I haven’t been able to do a full examination.”

  “We have access to Slippy on the other side of the island,” I said. “Fiddle can help you get there with the professor and Cass, while Torquin, Aly, and I rescue the Loculi.”

  “Professor Bhegad needs hospital care,” Dr. Bradley said.

  “Can you bring what he needs—some kind of portable hospital?” I said. “We can’t risk keeping him here. If the Massa find him, they’ll torture him for information. I can give you a walkie-talkie if you need one.”

  “I have my own,” Dr. Bradley said wearily. “I can reach Fiddle. I suppose this is our only choice.”

  “Professor Bhegad,” Aly said, gently brushing a strand of wispy white hair from his forehead, “Dr. Bradley is going to take you away from here. Have the Massa taken the Loculi?”

  “N . . . no . . .” Professor Bhegad shook his head and turned shakily toward Torquin. “They are in . . . location D . . . Go now . . . keep them safe.”

  “Is that the same as Building D, the control center?” Aly asked.

  “Not Building D,” Torquin said. “Location D.”

  “Which is . . . ?” I prodded.

  “Dump,” Torquin replied.

  The smell and the Song hit me at the same time.

  We were in a Jeep that Torquin had stolen at the edge of the compound. Well, stolen isn’t really the right word. It belonged to the KI, but two Massa guys were in it until Torquin pulled them out and threw them against a tree. Now we were careening across the airfield toward the Karai Institute landfill, aka dump. My head felt light, as if something had crawled into my brain. Not a sound, exactly, but a vibration that began in my ears and spread throughout my body. “I’m feeling it,” I said. “The Song of the Heptakiklos. That means the Loculi are nearby.”

  “It sbells like subthigg died here.” Aly was holding her nose. The stench was acrid, foul, and growing fast as the Jeep pulled up to a smoking hill. “I’ll stay in the car.”

  “Big help,” I replied, climbing out the backseat.

  I held the end of my too-long sleeve over my nose, but Torquin was breathing normally. “Nice place,” he mumbled. “Come here to meditate.” We stopped in front of an enormous compost pile, which he carefully examined with his flashlight. Then, barehanded, he began digging out blackened banana peels, hairy mango pits, and globs of wilted vegetables.

  The Loculi, it seemed, were buried in a pile of garbage.

  Behind us, distant shouts resounded from the jungle. I squinted but all I could see was a small area around me, lit by moonlight and an old, dim streetlamp. Torquin turned, quickly handing me the flashlight. “Pah. Massa. I distract. You continue. Find door. Code is FLUFFY AND FIERCE.”

  “But—” He stalked away before I could say another word.

  I stared at the mound of rotten food and nearly puked. But the voic
es were getting closer, and they did not sound happy.

  There was one spot that looked as if the garbage had been stirred around recently. I hoped it was the right spot, and not just some jungle animal’s favorite snack location. Holding my breath, I thrust my hand into the goop. It was clammy and cold. My fingers slipped. I felt a rodent scampering out from underneath, nearly running across my shoes.

  Keep going . . .

  My wrists were covered now. Liquid dribbled down my arm. Each movement brought a fresh whiff of horribleness.

  There.

  My knuckles knocked on something hard. Guided by my flashlight in one hand, I used the other hand to fling away big gobs until I could see a kind of hatch within:

  CHAPTER NINE

  EPIC FAIL

  “JACK . . . WHAT ARE you doigg?” Aly cried out, racing toward me from the Jeep. “Torquid’s holdigg off sub Bassa. Do subthigg.”

  I gestured toward the filthy screen. “Torquin said the code was ‘fluffy and fierce.’”

  “We’ve seed those words before,” Aly said. “Whedd we first got to the isladd, I foud Torquid’s pass code id the codtrol buildigg—‘all thiggs fluffy and fierce.’ How does that help with this—‘Epic fail’? How cadd you fail before you evedd try? Add why ‘you rodett’? Add what’s with the LCD screed?”

  “I don’t know!” I said. “Maybe it’s some kind of code. You’re the code person!”

  The voices were getting louder. It sounded like Torquin was arguing.

  “If it’s a code,” Aly said, “you should be able to edter subthigg. With a keyboard or dubber pad.”

  Keyboard. Number pad.

  I stared at the message closely. “The letters are in squares,” I said. “It looks like a keyboard.”

  “But it’s dot,” Aly said, looking nervously over her shoulder. “It’s a bessage! Hagg odd. Let bee look at it . . .”

  Together we stared at the dumb, insulting thing. I wasn’t seeing the words now, just the letters. They were swirling around in my head, arranging and rearranging. There was something about them . . .

  I reached out and touched the F of Fail. The LCD screen changed.

  “What did you just do?” Aly said.

  “Fluffy and fierce . . .” I murmured, quickly spelling out the words—pressing the L of Fail, the U of You, the F of Fail twice, and so on . . . “I’m just tapping the letters, spelling out the words.”

  “It would’t be that sibple!” Aly insisted.

  The door beeped. I jumped back. “It’s a keyboard!”

  Aly swallowed hard. “Subtibes,” she said, “it’s a gift to be sibple . . .”

  I pushed hard on the door, but it didn’t budge.

  “You’re dot puttigg your weight idto it!” Aly said.

  “You try,” I said.

  Aly recoiled. “Doe way!”

  I pounded again. I could hear voices getting louder. Aly and I both turned to see Torquin arguing with three Massa. I shut off my flashlight, leaned back, then thrust my shoulder into the door.

  A thick cake of hardened, putrid glop fell away, revealing a door handle in the shape of a pull-down lever.

  Grabbing it in my slippery hand, I yanked it down. The door creaked open, outward. I thrust my flashlight into the space. It was wider and deeper than I expected—maybe four feet in all directions. I stuck my head inside to see the whole area. And there, resting against the left side, were two canvas bags, full and round and exactly the right size. They were cinched at the top with a rope. One was an olive color, the other brown. Both of them were ragged and full of holes. I guessed Bhegad had hidden these in a hurry.

  Quickly I opened the olive sack and saw the glowing, whitish shape of the Loculus of Flight. With a smile, I cinched the bag closed and opened the other. Although I could feel the Loculus of Invisibility, I couldn’t see it.

  “Yes! Got ’em.” Making sure both bags were tightly closed, I pulled them out. I braced myself to run and turned toward Aly. I came face-to-face with a superbright flashlight beam. “Aly, will you please lower that thing?”

  A deep, guttural voice answered. “As you wish.”

  I jumped back as the beam dropped downward, revealing a hooded man, his face concealed by a cowl. In the dim streetlamp light, I saw Aly a few feet beyond him. Torquin was with her now, too. Their faces were ashen, their hands in the air. Behind them stood three Massa.

  “What a stroke of luck to find you here,” said Brother Dimitrios, pulling back his cowl. “We missed you in Egypt. But how considerate of you to return and find these for us.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE ONLY GAME IN TOWN

  BROTHER DIMITRIOS HELD out his hand, palm up. Behind him stood his two favorite henchmen. Brother Yiorgos was dark and balding, with a round face and a constant creepy smile. Stavros had a mass of curly hair, a thick unibrow, and a scowl, his chin blackened by beard stubble.

  Both of them held guns pointed toward Aly and Torquin.

  “I do not like to use such brutish tactics,” Brother Di-mitrios said, “but I believe we are having some temporary trust issues. You left us rather abruptly in Giza.”

  “You kidnapped us!” I said.

  Brother Dimitrios chuckled. “We freed you from the people who had taken you from your homes. That is the opposite of kidnapping, yes? More like rescuing, I’d say.” He was moving closer now, hand still outstretched. “We extended an offer to you. A lifeline. An opportunity to prevent your own deaths. And instead you fled to your abductors. Tell me, how’s that working for you now?”

  I took a step backward. “You destroyed Babylon. You brainwashed Marco. You’re turning him into some kind of monster. And you promised him he’d be a king! How were we supposed to trust you?”

  “Because we are the ones who tell the truth, Jack,” Brother Dimitrios said. “We are the good guys.”

  “You destroyed the Karai Institute!” I said.

  “They would have destroyed us if they’d gotten the chance,” Brother Dimitrios said. “It has always been part of their plan. But none of that matters now. The KI no longer exists. We are the only game in town. Which is as it should be. I trust we will eventually earn your loyalty, Jack. But for now, you need only give us the Loculi. It is the smartest thing you can do. For yourselves and the world.”

  As he reached for both sacks, Aly gasped aloud. “Don’t!”

  I held tight and backed away. Brother Dimitrios chuckled again. “So shy now. And yet you were the one who generously showed us the way to the island, which we’d been seeking for decades.”

  Once we left the protected area around the island, the Massa could pick up the signal, Aly had said.

  “You planted that phone!” Aly accused him.

  Brother Dimitrios raised an eyebrow. “You mean, the phone you stole?”

  I couldn’t read his expression. Was he mocking us? Was it possible Mom had played us?

  I thought about what she had done—left us a high-res close-up of her own eye, which we’d used for the retinal scan. That was how we’d gotten access to the Loculi. That was how we were able to escape. She had risked her status to help me. To help us.

  At least I’d thought so.

  Dimitrios barked a dry laugh. “You know, the timing couldn’t have been better. You see, we were looking for a new headquarters anyway, since you betrayed the location of our old one to your Karai Institute friends. So this gave us the opportunity to eliminate the competition, so to speak.” He looked around with a satisfied smile. “Not to mention upgrading our location at the same time.”

  A distant explosion made me flinch. The KI was being destroyed. This reality was squeezing me like a fist. The Scholars of Karai had built the island on centuries of research, on land that no one could ever find. Now all of it—the labs, the healing waterfall, the Heptakiklos, the space-time rift—was under new ownership. Because the Massa had found the one person dumb enough to leave a trail. Me.

  “As you can hear, we are already in the process of a . . . g
ut renovation,” Brother Dimitrios said. “We will rebuild here, more gloriously than you can imagine. If you keep the Loculi, you will die, Jack. Or you can choose to give them to us. And we will save your lives.”

  I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to shape some kind of plan, something that made sense. I concentrated on the McKinley family motto, which had always gotten me through tough times: a problem is an answer waiting to be opened.

  All my life I’d thought that mottoes were dumb. Just words.

  Opening my eyes, I stared at the two canvas bags.

  There was only one possible answer.

  “All right,” I said, slipping my hands under the sacks. “You win. Take them.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  WHAC-A-MASSA

  “JACK, NO!” ALY cried.

  Torquin let out a roar. He turned and lifted Brother Yiorgos off the ground like a toy soldier, but the sound of a gunshot made him freeze.

  Brother Stavros stood with one arm raised high, a revolver in his fist. Smoke wisped upward from the barrel, from where he’d shot in the air. His other arm was locked around Aly’s neck. “Don’t make this hard for us,” he growled.

  Torquin let Yiorgos fall to the ground.

  “Vre, Stavros, this is not a movie,” Brother Dimitrios said. “Let go of the girl.”

  Aly pushed herself away from Stavros’s grip. Yiorgos rose, grimacing. They all stood, bodies angled toward me. In the dim light I couldn’t see anyone’s face clearly, but I gave a sharp warning glance to Aly and Torquin. I did not want them to get hurt.

  Lifting the sacks, I curled my hands underneath. The material was worn and ripped, and my fingers felt for the holes.

  There.

  Quickly I slipped my hand inside the brown sack. I felt the warmth of the Invisibility Loculus. That was all I needed. Just to touch the surface.

  I knew I was fading from sight by the look on Brother Dimitrios’s face. Utter shock.

  He lunged forward. I leaped aside, spinning to the right. I untied the top, pulling out the entire Loculus. Tucking it under my arm, I held tight to the other sack.