One Wish Away (25 page)

I spin around. Bennett comes at me, a stream of blood running down his face, syringe in hand.

Again he lunges and I kick, hitting something hard, bone. He clutches his side and I kick at the hand holding the syringe, sending it flying across the room. With a little air back in my lungs I flip over and try to run again, only to have hands grab my hips and spin me back around.

“Are you almost finished?” Bennett snarls. His fist collides with my face. Stars blur my vision. He pins my arms down, and waits for the darkness to take me. But I turn my head to the side and bite his arm.

His blood floods my mouth and as he grabs for the wound, I roll out from underneath him, and run to Darren. Shake him. Yell at him. No movement. Nothing.

“I'm done playing nice.” Bennett sifts through the conglomeration of tools and lifts a safety knife. A snap echoes in the room as he forces the blade from its case.

I can't run. Darren is right here. And unconscious. My eyes sift through the tools around me, but I don't see anything useful. Just before Bennett reaches us I grab a screwdriver.

This time I lunge first. The knife swings past me and gets caught in my hair. I yelp as Bennett rips it out and slashes at me again. I jump to the side and jab, but his blood is everywhere and I can't see out of my right eye. I swipe again.

I'm covered in blood too.

Bennett raises the knife and slashes at me before I have time to defend myself. Pain radiates down my arm, and I screech in agony, dropping the screwdriver to grab my shoulder. I find his eyes and dare him to finish me off.

I keep my feet moving. The more he focuses on me, the more time it gives Darren. I stumble back; hit my head on a table. Bennett pounces on me while I'm down and the blade hovers over my face.

Light reflects off the knife and into my eyes. Wrapping both hands around Bennett's wrist, I force the knife as far from my body as my puny muscles can manage. My right arm throbs with pain, protests every movement. I can't hold him any longer.

I scream as Bennett slumps forward, his breath flooding my ear, the knife pausing between his body and mine.

“Lyra!” Darren throws the syringe down and grunts as he pushes an unconscious Bennett off me. “Are you okay?” His eyes roam over my bloody wounds.

“Help me up. We have to get out of here.”

Once I'm standing, I run my hand along the bruise forming above his right eye and he winces.

“Come on.” He wraps his arm around me and moves for the door.

“The camera!” I try and pull back in the other direction.

“Don't worry about it. I programmed it to remotely upload to the school's computers.”

Just another reason to add to the list of why I like him.

Darren forces my arm around his shoulder and helps me through the building. I try to take in our surroundings but its dark and I can't keep the blood out of my eye long enough for it to be any use.

I give him quiet directions. When Darren forces open the door to the outside world I spin into him, wrap my arms around him tight. I can't stop the tears, the shaking. I close my eyes because the pain is too great.

“We're almost there. Come on.” Darren wipes the tears, his hands coming away red, and pushes us forward. The night air never smelled so good. I take in a deep, shaky breath, scolding myself for losing it as I crawl into the passenger seat. My muscles melt into the fabric, praying I never have to get up.

“Stay with me. Lyra!”

“Wha?” Did I pass out? I look out the window but all I see is black.

I try to force my head up, but it's so heavy. My upper arm pounds a searing pain through my body to the beat of my heart. Before I realize we've stopped, Darren is at my door. With his shirt off.

“We have to stop the bleeding.” He rips off a scrap and ties it tightly around my head. Rips off a few more and hands them to me. “Here too?” He gestures to my arm.

After my arm is bandaged he runs around to the driver's side and takes off again, looking more at me than the road.

“We need to get you to a hospital.”

Everything is foggy, muted, dull. But I know going to the hospital is not in the plan. That has to wait.

We pass buildings. We're getting closer. Sitting still is helping with the dizziness. Things are slightly clearer.

Darren jumps out and runs around to my side. Helps me out of the car. I start to open my mouth, to tell him my wits are coming back, but he beats me to it.

“Don't you dare tell me you're fine.”

We get to the side of the school and I force Darren to let go of me, propping myself up on the wall. Why are we here again?

Darren doesn't have internet. Can't do this at my house with Dad and Mom around.

And the school has a great network of students and parent's email addresses to launch the reveal.

“We have to split up.” I know there's a way to get in. Our classmates manage to do it at least three times a year to pull some sort of prank.

“No.” He shakes his head firmly and grabs for me again.

“It's not an option, Darren.” I think the force behind my voice convinces him I won't collapse. At least not right away.

I keep my eye on him, as I pry at windows, and check all the doors. I'm at a slight disadvantage because any movement of my right arm causes mind-numbing pain. It takes everything I have only to hiss and not scream.

“Darren.” He runs over and puts an arm around my waist as I point at the garage leading to our shop class. “Any bets as to whether they left the garage unlocked?”

We walk over to it as fast as I'm able and Darren gives it a heave. No luck.

“Unless…” Darren runs to the side of the building and tries the door. Success.

Our footsteps are so loud it sounds like we weigh three hundred pounds. Every ten feet Darren looks over at me, even though he's holding me so tight I can't feel any fingers on either hand.

“I'm fine.”

“No.” His eyes get larger. “You're not.” But he turns to look forward again in time for us to climb the stairs.

There's the library. Right at the end of the hall. Since when is this hall so long? I've walked this every day for the past two years and it's never taken this much time. I'm leaning further into Darren, my head doing that swaying thing again. I'm about to say I can't go another step when I run into the library door.

Darren grabs the knob. It's locked. Who would have thought? I'm so worked up and freaked out and in
so much pain
I might actually scream.

Darren scans the hallway. He grabs a small garbage can and guides me away from the door. My mouth drops as he raises the can and breaks the glass, reaches around and unlocks it.

“Your moral compass will get over that one,” he says as he guides me through and lowers me into the seat behind the nearest computer.

I hit the power button, leaving behind a trail of red, and slouch farther into the chair as we wait for it to boot up. Darren reaches for my head and even though I try and push him away, it isn't wholehearted.

I want him to make it better.

“There's something I've been thinking about.” Darren says as he holds his hand out for one of the scraps from his shirt that I have in my pocket. He removes the blood-soaked one from my head and replaces it with a clean one.

The fog is coming again. I try to focus on Darren's face, on the hard line of his jaw and the pinch in his brow, but it's not working. My eyes drift to his chest, which is bare because I'm wearing his shirt on my head.

Darren's hand raises my chin. “You have to be the face of this, Lyra. You have to be on the videos. Tie yourself to this story. The government will have to be very careful what they do with you if the whole world knows that you were the one who revealed this secret.”

It's hard to comprehend his words. I know they're important. And I know, because of the way he's saying them, the way he's looking at me, it's what I have to do.

I nod. It's all I'm capable of and there's infinitesimal relief on Darren's face. He stands up quickly and runs out of the room. Seconds later he's back with a roll of paper towels.

“We want you to look believable, but not like you've been raised from the dead.”

“I'll do it.” I dab my face, trying to avoid the places that hurt, which doesn't leave me with much. Darren's fingers fly across the keyboard; move to the mouse and back to the keyboard. I shake my head to clear the fog, pointing at the clips I want to keep and those I want to remove.

I paint the picture of a hopeful US government, one that wants nothing more than to make the world a better place. I leave out some of the bad, like hotel bombings or the idea about making certain countries US territories and include the good, that AIDS is gone.

I don't want this to cause controversy. I just want everyone to have a say in how the world should be changed from now on.

“We have to record the beginning, and then we're set.”

Sirens start in the distance and I know they're coming for us.

With not the slightest waver in his voice, Darren says, “Talk to me. Tell the world who you are and why that's important. Tell them about the Cricket Project.”

Then we'll upload it and send it to the email list. I've also included the address of one prominent Arizona journalist who will believe us.

My mother.

Darren removes the bandage from around my head and dabs away as much blood as possible. I couldn't have done this without him. He wraps a new bandage around my head and I grab for his hand, hold it tight.

Darren moves his thumb under my eyes. I help him wipe away the tears and then turn to look at the webcam, voices rising through the windows. Loud. Forceful. The little eye in the camera taunts me.

I'm not good at talking to a camera.

Darren taps the mouse with his other hand. The voices are now in the halls, slamming doors, boots powerful on the linoleum.

“Okay, go,” Darren whispers.

I clear my throat and my other hand finds his too.

“My name is Lyra Altair and I am an employee of Space Exploration and Discovery where we've developed a remarkable machine called the StarCatcher.

“I'm here to tell you we've uncovered the ability to make wishes come true.”

With a push of a button, the video is released to the world. By tonight this story will be all over the news. And then it really begins.

Seconds later the library is filled with men in uniform. Guns are raised. Lots of yelling. Darren stands in front of me in protection. I'm ripped from the chair and my legs give out. The officer holding my arm yells louder and louder at my crumpled form on the floor. Amongst all the commotion, Darren's voice sneaks through.

“Don't move!”

“What did they do?”

“You have to get her to a hospital.”

“Shut up, kid! What the hell did you do? Steve! Get over here and check this computer out.”

There's shuffling and grunting as Steve makes his way to the computer. I try to sneak a peek, but raising my head is too much. Then someone lifts me up and forces me into a plastic chair. I let my head fall into my hands and close my eyes. The yelling continues.

“It seems they've sent an email.”

“What kind of email?”

Steve clears his throat. “It's titled, ‘The Cricket Project'.”

“What the hell is a Cricket Project?”

“No idea.”

“Kid, you better start explaining. Is this some sort of virus?”

“No,” Darren mumbles.

“What the hell is it?”

There's a loud
slam
, as if the cop obliterated the keyboard, but when my head pops up the officer's eyes lock on me. His voice drops to a dangerously low level as he kneels in front of my chair.

“I don't have the time nor the patience for this. The Secretary of Defense will be here any minute and I want answers. So you will tell me
right now
what the hell is going on.”

I wonder what Officer Derek, as his badge states, knows. He must have gotten a call from someone in the Defense Department. But I doubt they've given him many details.

I acknowledge him with a groan and let my head fall back into my hands.

“Get them out of here. Separate cars. Steve, dig up what you can on the computer.”

I'm wrenched from my seat and pushed through the computer lab, the library, and into the hallway. Officers flank my sides, Darren breathes heavy behind me. It's not like I didn't see this coming. I'm just waiting for the shit to really hit the fan.

Before I emerge into the parking lot behind the school, familiar handcuffs are placed around my wrists, bringing me back to that first night only a few months ago. I wince even though the cop is attempting to be gentle.

I search the lot for the faces I expect to see. The Secretary, my dad, Aunt Steph, Iris… Where are they?

I trip over something and stumble to my knees. Darren's beside me in a second, concern creasing his brow. He looks at the cop behind me and pleads for what has to be the hundredth time.

“You have to take her to a hospital.”

“She'll live, kid. No hospital until you guys tell us what's going on,” Officer Derek mumbles and hurries us over to a cluster of cop cars.

“Throw her in this one. Put the boy over here.”

The cop holding my arm listens. Just after the door is open, he pushes my head down and helps me inside.

“Leave us, please.”

I don't have to see Secretary Morgan to know his voice. In a matter of seconds the officer is gone and the Secretary is looming over my shoulder.

“I have no idea what to say to you.” His voice is so defeated, completely lost. “You might think you've done something noble, but…” He runs his hand down his face. “We might be looking at World War III.”

My jaw clenches, but it's not like I hadn't thought this through.