Crisis Zero (23 page)

I
WOKE WITH SOMEONE'S ARMS WRAPPED AROUND MY CHEST. I
was being dragged out of the water and onto a snowy bed of ice that felt a lot warmer than it should have. The person dragged me across the ice and then flopped me up onto the shore. I assumed it was Danielle at first, but then I looked over and saw her blue lips trembling next to me.

She looked over and smiled. Her mouth was full of blood and she was missing one of her two front teeth. I hoped she wasn't dying, but I was too cold to say anything.
I looked to my right and saw Dillon on the other side of me. He was sitting up, his arms wrapped around his legs, shivering.

If they were there, then who saved me? Was it Medlock?

Then I saw Ms. Pullman's face hovering above me. She smiled and tapped my face lightly.

“Carson?” she said. “Carson, stay awake!”

“W-w-wh-wh-what a-a-r-r-r-e y-you d-d-oing he-h-here?” I managed to mumble through my chattering teeth.

“I came to the school to make sure it was evacuated,” she said. “Then it collapsed into itself. A short time later I saw your helicopter crash in the river. Don't worry, the ambulance is on the way. What's going on, Carson?”

She was shivering, too. She'd clearly had to get into the river herself to pull us from the helicopter's wreckage. I closed my eyes, wanting to rest. I just felt like I needed rest. A hand slapped me.

“Stay awake, Carson!” Ms. Pullman yelled. “Come on, talk to me.”

“Th-th-ere's . . .” I started, but then paused. Did I really want to do this? But then I realized I had to, I couldn't just let him die. “Th-there's an-n-n-other-r m-m-an in
the ch-ch-chopper. But be care-f-f-fu-l-l-l, h-h-he's the b-b-b-ad guy.”

Ms. Pullman nodded and didn't even hesitate as she disappeared from my view. I craned my neck enough to look up. She was running across the ice toward a twisted mess of metal and glass that looked more like a pile of scrap metal than a helicopter. It was a true miracle any of us had survived the impact.

I put my head back down. My neck and head and body hurt far too badly to watch her climb back into that freezing water on an evil psychopath's behalf. I closed my eyes again.

Another slap woke me up.

“Carson, stay awake!” Ms. Pullman said.

I was covered in blankets now. As were Dillon and Danielle who were both conscious and sitting next to each other, talking softly. A few people from nearby houses must have spotted us and brought out blankets. I saw several people nearby, looking into the street, likely watching for the ambulance.

“Thank you for saving me,” I said.

“Carson . . .” Ms. Pullman said, as if she were about to tell me it's what anyone would have done. But then the rest of the words caught in her throat and tears pushed
at her eyelids. Instead of saying anything more, she gave my hand a squeeze and then stood up and walked over toward an ambulance that was just now coming down the street. An NSB sedan and two cop cars were right behind it.

A low moan called out a name to my right.

“Jake,” the voice said. “Jake, I did it for you. I just wanted my son back.”

Medlock was lying next to me, also covered in blankets. He looked over, his face bloody. We made eye contact and all I saw in them were sadness and heartache.

“Where's my boy?” he asked. “Where did they take Jake?”

“I don't know,” I said. “But Agent Nineteen wouldn't let anything happen to him. I know that's hard for you to believe but it's true. Whatever happened to you guys in the past is gone. He's different now, and I promise he didn't let the Agency harm Jake. You'll see him again.”

Medlock blinked. He breathed in and out deeply, laboring to get out more words. But he couldn't. And so instead he reached out a bloody hand that was missing a few fingers. It was gross, but I wasn't about to leave a possibly dying man hanging.

So I reached out and grabbed Medlock's hand. It was
cold, even in spite of the warm blood flowing out of it. And then Medlock actually smiled at me.

And that's the last thing I remembered before blacking out again. Lying there next to my two best friends on the riverbank in the snow, holding the freezing cold and bloody hand of my archnemesis, Mule Medlock.

T
HE FALLOUT FROM THAT DAY WAS INSANITY. IT'S HARD TO EVEN
explain what happened to everyone. But I'll do my best based on what little I know.

Principal Gomez was cleared of all charges against him. I heard he ended up retired somewhere down south. I wish that old jerk the best. Seriously.

As for the school, well, it didn't fare so well. The way Agency HQ was constructed prevented any leakage of radioactive material after its implosion, but it still caused the school above it to basically cave in completely. Classes
eventually resumed later that year inside the town's civic center until a new school could be constructed. Nobody died in the blast, and Ms. Pullman and I have yet to discuss what happened that early morning before she found us in the crashed helicopter.

In the meantime, she was hailed by the media as a hero for issuing an evacuation order that morning, preventing the deaths of several janitors and extracurricular weekend school groups. Oh, and also for pulling three kids and an unidentified man from the burning wreckage sinking in the freezing Rat River. She is still the school's principal, the best one it's ever had. And she's my hero, too.

You're probably wondering about Jake Tyson-Gulley, too. He was finally returned to his mom's custody. He has yet to return to school and supposedly is seeing a therapist three times a week. He refuses to reveal to anybody where he was all that time. But he seems largely okay. I just hope Jake doesn't hold any sort of grudge against me. . . .

Dillon and Danielle are still my best friends, and the two coolest kids I know. After everything that happened, I think we can safely say that will never change.

And Medlock, well . . . I don't know much about
where he ended up. But I do know he survived and the NSB detained him and is holding him in a maximum-security federal prison specializing in terrorists. But his existence is no longer a classified secret, and he's not going to “disappear,” to put it the way the Agency would have. Agent Loften has assured me that his chances of escape are as close to zero as you can get, but at least he won't be forgotten. After everything that happened, I think it's important that people remember. I don't know if he ever saw his son again, but part of me hopes so. I did make the man a promise after all, and despite who he is, I hope it didn't make me a liar.

The collapse of Agency headquarters, although never publicly tied to the Agency, exposed them within government circles. Which, in essence, forced the government's hand, and the Agency was finally disbanded several months later by the president. When their existence became public, there was a lot of outrage, a lot of peaceful protests and such over just how much the United States government was hiding from its citizens. Supposedly Director Isadoris was transferred to some boring, low-level desk job at the NSB, which was more than he deserved, if you ask me. He must have struck some kind of deal, but I don't know the details.

And as for the last two people you're probably wondering about, well, I saw them only one more time. It was a few weeks after that crazy morning when the world seemed to collapse on itself. A car showed up at my house and two men came to our door. One of them was Agent Loften. He said he needed to take me downtown to tie up a few loose ends. My parents reluctantly agreed. Basically, anything short of an actual NSB agent saying he needed to see me for purposes of national security couldn't get me out of my room at that time. I was
that
grounded.

Anyway, Agent Loften drove me to some weird unmarked brick building on the edge of town.

“Uh, am I being assassinated?” I asked as we parked around back.

“What?” he asked. Then he laughed. “No! Why would you even think that?”

I wanted to reply, “Because it's something the Agency would probably do.” But instead I just shrugged.

“Your presence was requested,” Agent Loften said.

“By who?”

“Two old friends who wanted to say good-bye.”

Nothing more was said and a short time later, I found myself sitting in a small room at a small table across from
Agent Nineteen and Agent Blue. They both looked okay. Better than I'd seen them in a long time, actually.

I couldn't meet their stares at first. They had saved me, even after I had betrayed them. I had broken almost every cardinal rule of being an agent, and put their lives at risk, and they still worked to save mine, twice. How could I ever face them again?

“Carson, we forgive you,” Agent Nineteen said right away.

“I'm sorry,” I said.

“He just said we forgive you already,” Agent Blue snapped.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Look at us,” Agent Nineteen said.

I looked up. He smiled at me. So did Agent Blue.

“You did what you had to do,” Agent Nineteen said. “What you needed to do. We get that. Things with the Agency had gone too far, and we couldn't see it. You could.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“It's a miracle you didn't get us all killed, though,” Agent Blue added.

I shrugged as Agent Nineteen elbowed him gently in the ribs.

“What's going to happen to you guys?” I asked.

“I'm being transferred to the Utah branch of the NSB,” Agent Blue said. “Yippee.”

I ignored his sarcasm and looked at Agent Nineteen.

“I'll be with the CIA,” Agent Nineteen said. “But maybe it's best if I don't say where. You know how it is.”

“Yeah,” I said with a laugh. “I guess I do.”

“We just wanted you to know before we go,” Agent Nineteen said, “that you really were one of the best agents I've ever worked with. Well, one of the best and worst. I mean, your instincts and natural talent are admirable. But in order to do this job correctly, you sometimes have to choose between the mission and your friends. I don't think you can really ever make that choice.”

I nodded, because he was probably right.

“What he's trying to say is,” Agent Blue said, “we respect you. And there are no hard feelings. You made the choice we couldn't. We should have trusted you more, all of us. We realize that now.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying to fight back the tears.

“One more thing.” Agent Nineteen stopped, looked over my shoulder for more than a few seconds before continuing. “The story Medlock told you is true. I was young then, a fool. I thought I was doing the right thing
by following orders, and I've been following those same orders every day since, trying to justify what I did. But doing the right thing isn't about blindly following orders. It's about finding people you trust, and staying true to them. It was time someone showed me that. Anyway, best of luck to you, Agent Zero.”

“Please,” I said. “Call me Carson.”

M
ILITARY SCHOOL SUCKS.

So does Nebraska. In fact, it's almost as bad as North Dakota.

That said, at least I don't have to wake up every day worried about some evil genius plotting to destroy the world or anything. And I'm not getting lied to on a regular basis. Nor am I lying to my friends all the time anymore. Military school is pretty simple that way. Which is kind of appealing.

Every day is the same thing. You get up at the crack
of dawn. Run four miles. Shower. Eat breakfast. Go to classes all day. After school you either practice with a sports team or work out more with your unit. Then it's study time. Then dinner. Then a few hours of free time. Then lights-out. Rinse and repeat.

Weekends are nice. We have more free time then. Sometimes Dillon and Danielle come down to visit. On most weekends I actually like to go to a nearby park to write, if you can believe that. That's where I am right now, writing all of this down.

“Excuse me,” a voice says, as a shadow drifts across my page.

I look up. A man in a tracksuit is standing over me. He looks like he's out for a run except that he isn't sweating or breathing hard.

“Yeah?” I say.

“Are you Carson Fender?”

“Maybe.”

“My name is Scarecrow and I've been watching you for some time,” the man says. “
We
have been watching you.”

“Oh man,” is all I can think to say.

“The work you did last year makes you uniquely suited to a certain job,” he says. “I work for an organization so
classified that it technically doesn't even exist. We call ourselves the Entity. Our main goal is to monitor all other government and nonaffiliated agencies for security breaches and ethical protocols. We're basically the world's lone, universal undercover police force. We're like the cops of the cops.”

I sit there and wait for what I know is coming next.

“We need your help,” he says. “Are you up for it?”

CHRIS RYLANDER
is the author of the Fourth Stall saga. A fan of brown shipping boxes turned on their sides, dance-offs to win a girl's heart, and rice, he lives in Chicago. You can visit him online at
www.chrisrylander.com
.

Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at
hc.com
.

Cover art © 2016 by Shannon Tindle

Cover design by Katie C. Fitch

Walden Pond Press is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

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CRISIS ZERO
. Copyright © 2016 by Christopher Rylander. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

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Library of Congress Control Number: 2015943573

ISBN 978-0-06-232747-5

EPub Edition © January 2016 ISBN 9780062327499

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