Pass/Fail (2012) (24 page)

“You’re being paranoid,” Megan told D. But D didn’t look at her.

He was looking only at Jake. “Come on out, Zuraw. Show yourself.”

“Stop it,” Jake said. “Stop the timer. Then all three of us will leave here together. We can escape. We can find somebody who will listen to us, who will send police, real police here to stop the Curriculum—”

D raised his pistol and pointed it at Jake’s face.

Jake wanted to run away, but he didn’t. There had to be a way to make D understand that what he was doing was wrong. “If you blow this place up now, the two clones downstairs will die with you,” he tried.

“They haven’t been born yet. It’s better if they die now so they don’t have to go through the tests. If you were me—if you were one of me, one of us—you would understand that. I’m not going to stop it.” He pressed the gun against Jake’s forehead.

The muzzle was very cold, and very hard.

“You know it’s not like that. I just don’t want to see anybody hurt. My best friend is around here somewhere, sleeping. His name is Cody Strindberg and he doesn’t deserve to die. Neither do I. I know you won’t shoot me,” Jake said. “You can’t. It would be like shooting yourself.”

“Jake,” Megan whispered. “Jake, we’re running out of time!”

“Go ahead and shoot me,” D said. He lifted the gun away from Jake’s head. “It’s what you’re supposed to do, right? What you have to do.”

“No,” Jake said. “It’s what I choose.” He jabbed the stun gun into D’s chest and pressed the trigger. There was a very abrupt, very loud noise and a faint sizzle. D dropped to the flooor, his limbs flopping wildly.

“Jake!” Megan screamed. “He was the only one who knew how to turn off the bomb!”

“Then I’ll just have to figure it out without help,” he told her. “I’ve gotten pretty good at problem solving.”

Chapter Fifty-Three

Jake shoved the stun gun in his pocket and knelt down next to the detonator. The digital display read 01:03. He wanted to just run away, to get as far away as possible, but he doubted there would be enough time even for that.

He could just pull the detonator out of the explosive bag. That would seem like the logical thing to do. But he was pretty sure D was smarter than that. If he just pulled it out, it might go off automatically. If he tried to disassemble it where it was, it might go off anyway. He had no idea how it worked, or what might trigger it.

There was nothing to lose by trying, except maybe a minute off his life. No. Fifty-nine seconds.

He tried to remember how D had put the thing together. He looked down at his double on the floor and saw that D had at least stopped twitching so much. He hoped his older self hadn’t hit his head on the floor when he fell. There was still so much he could teach Jake, so much he must know about that Jake couldn’t even imagine yet. If he could just defuse the bomb, he and Megan could carry D out of the school, they could—

One thing at a time
, he told himself.

There had been four main pieces to the detonator. There was the digital time, a battery pack, and the pronged part at the end that made sparks when it was activated. Jake could see how it worked. Power from the battery pack was flowing toward the spark generator but was resisted by the timer. When the timer reached 00:00, it would complete a circuit which would activate the spark generator, which would ignite the fertilizer bricks in the bag, starting a chain reaction. It was pretty simple. Jake saw the solution right away—kind of. He had to remove a wire leading from the battery pack to the timer, so that it could never make a complete circuit. He remembered this kind of problem from back in junior high when they’d done basic electronics in science class.

Actually, though, that had never happened. He’d never been in junior high. Everything he thought he knew was suspect—all of his memories had been fed to him while he was still growing in the clone tank. Everything he believed, everything he’d ever taken for granted, was concocted by Mr. Zuraw so that he would think he’d had a normal childhood. Lies. All of it, just lies.

“Jake!” Megan shouted.

He looked down at the timer. 00:42.

He had to focus. He’d been shocked and horrified and disillusioned, all so fast his brain was having trouble keeping everything he was feeling inside his skull. He’d had his whole world turned upside down. But it didn’t mean he could stop what he was doing.

He had to pull one of the wires. He studied the timer and the various wires coming in and out of it. Which wire? Which one did he pull? In the movies when a spy or a superhero had to defuse a bomb there was always a red wire and a blue wire, and almost always the hero was supposed to pull the red wire. These wires, however, were all white. If he pulled the wrong one he could cause a short circuit. That would send power to the spark generator for a split second. Just long enough to set off the bomb.

“Now, Jake. Do it now. Take a guess if you have to.”

Logic problems were fun because there was always a simple answer… not like real life at all…

Jake looked up when he heard footsteps coming down the corridor toward him. “Hello, Jake,” Mr. Zuraw said. The guidance counselor was followed by a dozen Proctors in mirrored masks. They must have just come from the soccer field. Mr. Zuraw bent down next to D’s prostrate body. “Well, this is intriguing. What do we have here? Two of them. The one who got away! And the one who didn’t want to complete his scheduled test, even though he knew it would mean a failing grade.”

“I’ll explain later. Right now, just help me,” Jake begged. “Kill me afterwards if you have to, but help me stop this bomb. Please.”

The timer read 00:17.

“Get him up on his feet,” Mr. Zuraw said, directing two Proctors to pick up D. “Take him behind the gym. I’ll deal with him shortly.”

“You don’t understand what’s happening here,” Jake said. “Please. A lot of people are going to die if you don’t help me!”

“Part of the Curriculum,” Mr. Zuraw said, squatting down next to Jake, “that students must take their own tests, without any help from the Proctors. It’s always been that way and I see no reason to change now.”

00:04. There was no time left.

Jake pulled one of the wires off of its terminal.

00:03. At least there was no short circuit. At least—

00:02. Jake held his breath. Had he done enough? Or did he need to pull two wires? He just didn’t know.

00:01. Jake’s whole body tensed up, ready for the explosion, even though he knew he would never feel a thing, it would all happen far too quickly, faster than the speed of sound, his body would be vaporized instantly and—

And—

He opened his eyes. The timer showed 00:00. Then, digit by digit, it changed. When it was done it read:

FA:IL

Mr. Zuraw turned to the Proctors behind him. “Take these two away as well. The girl is overdue for long-term suspension. As for H—well. It’s been a good run, but all things must come to an end.”

“I don’t think so,” Megan said. She had D’s pistol clutched in both her hands. It trembled in her tight grip, but it was pointed right at Mr. Zuraw’s face.

“Ms. Gottschalk, you’re making a very bad mistake,” Mr. Zuraw said, walking slowly towards her with his hand out. “Give me the gun, please.”

“I’ll kill you if you take another step,” Megan shouted.

Mr. Zuraw stopped in place and smiled.

“They’re not afraid to die,” Jake whispered.

“They’re afraid of something. Otherwise, why aren’t they shooting?” Megan took a cautious step toward the Mr. Zuraw.

The Proctors didn’t move a muscle.

Megan lowered her gun to the level of the guidance counselor’s chest and cocked it carefully. “Jake and I are going to walk out of the school, and run very far away. You won’t see us again. Or you can die right now.”

Nobody moved.

“You have five seconds to decide,” Megan said, nearly spitting with sarcasm. “A lack of response will result in an automatic failure condition.”

Mr. Zuraw grinned wickedly. Then he put his hands up and turned around and walked away. He didn’t run, didn’t even seem to be in a hurry. He just walked around the corner and was gone. The Proctors followed him without comment.

Jake and Megan watched them go. Jake exhaled noisily when they finally disappeared, and he realized he had both been holding his breath.

“Oh, thank God,” Megan said. “He fell for it.”

“What?” Jake asked.

“I can’t shoot somebody in cold blood, Jake. I’m not crazy. Phew!”

Chapter Fifty-Four

Jake’s eyes went wide. “So we’re just going to run away? How far do you think they’ll let us get?”

Megan laughed. “I don’t know!” Her eyes were too bright as if she’d gone a little bit crazy.

Jake was confused. He couldn’t imagine Mr. Zuraw just giving up, not so easily. He must know something that Jake didn’t. “This feels wrong, like a—” Before he could finish his thought she pushed him up against a row of lockers and stared into his eyes. Her look made him feel overheated and sweaty.

She leaned in and kissed him hard, running the fingers of her free hand through his hair. Her other hand still held the gun.

“We’ll go away and live in the mountains, like D did,” she said. Her voice was high-pitched and giddy. “Or to the city, and we’ll live under a bridge. Who cares? We’ll be together. There’s no future here. No future for you—I saw those clone tanks. No future for me. I know too much. It’s funny,” she said, “how free you can feel when you’ve got no options left.”

Jake was so confused. He’d received his third FAIL, according to the timer on the bomb he’d defused. He’d saved the school but it meant sacrificing himself. And now—and now—

And now he was with Megan, and she was kissing him again, which had to be worth something. And they were still alive. And nobody was trying to stop them.

He knew perfectly well that it couldn’t last.

Megan apparently didn’t see it that way. She grabbed his hand as she ran down the hall. Her face was flushed but her eyes were sparkling.

They made it halfway down the corridor before stopping again.

“Did you hear that?” Jake asked.

The intercoms in the ceiling started to crackle. The growling voice said “Wake,” and all around them Jake heard conversations starting up again, heard teachers lecturing in bored monotone voices. From outside he could hear a lawn mower pacing back and forth on the baseball field. In the hallway students started rising to their feet, their faces blank at first but instantly lighting up with interrupted expressions, laughing, talking about nothing, adjusting their bookbags, drinking from water fountains.

Megan looked surprised but not very much afraid. “What are they doing?” she asked, almost casually.

The bell rang to signal the start of the next period. A moment later classroom doors opened all up and down the hallway and students started pouring in, clutching books to their chests or slinging knapsacks over their shoulders. They filled up the hallway on either side, blocking Megan and Jake from running in either direction.

Then somebody saw the gun.

Jake could not have said later where the panic started. He had a front row seat to watch it grow, however. It went from face to face as students grabbed at each other, howled out warnings, knocked each other down trying to get away. The braver among them held their arms out at their sides, as if they could protect their friends behind them. Some of the students started crying, spontaneously, without saying a word.

They didn’t need to say anything. This message could be grasped at first sight, without the need of any explanation at all.

There was a crazy student in the hall with a gun.

Every kid in Fulton High School had heard how that story went. They’d seen it on the news, heard about it from their parents. They’d done a special unit on school shootings the year before, in Civics II. They’d seen pictures of what happened. Seen video of the aftermath.

“Oh my God,” Jake said.

On one level he had to admire Mr. Zuraw’s problem-solving abilities. It was an elegant solution to his problem. He needed to take Jake and Megan out of the equation, but with a minimum of struggle. He could have sent his Proctors at her, and some of them would have been shot, and probably killed.

Or he could do it the easy way.

Jake grabbed her arm. She didn’t seem to understand what was happening. “They won’t give you a chance. The cops will come—they’ll shoot on sight. Megan, you have to drop the gun and put your hands up.”

“Screw that.” She stared at the gun in her hand. “I’m in charge right now. If I drop this, there’s nothing to stop them from grabbing us and—and killing us.”

Jake shook his head. “Don’t you get it? This is the perfect solution for them. He was pretty sure you were willing to kill Proctors. But now—are you willing to kill a student? These are your classmates. Your friends.”

Megan licked her lips. She nodded, and looked around at the faces surrounding them, and seemed to calm down a little. But she didn’t lower the gun. “I haven’t made a lot of friends here, since we moved from Chicago.”

Jake nodded carefully. The tone of her voice was different now, though. It sounded like she might have started thinking again. It sounded like she wanted to be convinced.

“They could be your friends, though,” he said. “Given a chance. If you kill one of them, the rest of them will hate you as long as they live. Do you want to give me the gun? They might like you better if you do.”

“No,” she said. Her mouth was hanging open as if she was gasping for breath. Her eyes were very wide. She looked scared. “If I don’t have the gun, I can’t stop them when they come for me. This way I still have a chance.”

Jake looked out at the sea of eyes watching him, watching Megan. The kids were scared but not in the same way she was. He could see the math going on behind their eyes. The simple addition. There was one girl with a gun. There were hundreds of students, and even if they weren’t armed, they still had the power. They could rush her. They could pile on top of her and hold her down. Nobody wanted to be the first one to break from the pack and attack her—that person was likely to get shot—but a lot of those faces, a lot of the students, were clearly thinking they’d love to be second in line.