The Tower (32 page)

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Authors: Adrian Howell

BOOK: The Tower
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By the time my group entered the Knights’ house, most of the Knights had already settled in, placing sleeping bags, weapons and miscellaneous equipment upon the creaking floorboards of the various dusty rooms.

“So, here we are,” Mr. Baker said cheerfully as I wrinkled my nose at the musty smell of the long-out-of-use house.

Mark, Terry, Alia and I stood together in one corner of the living room, waiting to be told where to go. Cindy was busy setting up a hiding bubble around the house. As the Knights gathered in the living room, I recognized several of them as members of the group that rescued Alia and me from the PRC. They smiled and waved, and suddenly I felt just a little better about this mission. These were the same Knights who survived an assault on a high-security underground base with zero losses.

Mr. Baker said to us, “You can head over to your house after lunch. Yours is in better condition than this one. I’m told it was occupied until just last week and it’s still fully furnished, but don’t forget to take your sleeping bags just in case.”

Then he handed me a small handheld radio transceiver, saying, “The phone lines are dead, and we’re not going to use cell phones because they can be traced by the Wolves. Whenever you need to talk, use this. Mark and Terry already have theirs.”

“Adrian and Alia don’t know their handles yet, Mr. Baker,” said Terry, suppressing a smile.

“Oh, yes, I almost forgot,” said Mr. Baker. “In fact, I did forget, but now I remember, thanks to Terry. Adrian, when you talk on these or aloud during any mission, never use your real name or anyone else’s. That’s standard mission protocol. On missions, we always use call signs. Codenames, if you will, so that our real names are not as easily discovered.”

“You mean like secret identities?” I asked, frowning.

Mr. Baker chuckled. “We are not mask-wearing superheroes, Adrian, but that doesn’t change the fact that the fewer times our names are publicly announced, the better.”

“Derrick used Ralph’s name over the intercom at the PRC,” I said, remembering how Derrick had shouted through the entire research center.

“Derrick is not a Knight, and he was panicking because our transceivers failed to work through the shielding,” explained Mr. Baker. “Just for your information, Ralph’s call sign is Biter. Mine is Cookie.”

“Cookie?!” I repeated incredulously.

“Well, you know, Baker... Cookie, see?” Mr. Baker laughed. “Call signs are not chosen according to our powers. After all, what would be the point in having a giveaway hint like that, right?”

I could understand Biter for Ralph-the-Former-Wolf, but
Cookie
?!

“Hmm...” I said, not at all sure I would be able to say “Cookie” over the radio without laughing.

Mr. Baker continued, “Cindy here is known as Silver. Mark has asked to be identified as Jacob, and Terry has inherited Rabbit, which was her late Uncle Patrick’s call sign.”

“He had buckteeth,” explained Terry.

“We get to pick our own names?” I asked.

Terry laughed and shook her head. “You would have if you were awake last night, but since you weren’t...”

“Cindy chose yours and Alia’s already,” said Mr. Baker. “I believe she thought long and hard about what might accurately reflect two lost children such as yourselves.”

I frowned at Cindy, who was wearing her usual giggly smile that preceded the kind of news that would make me want to bury my head.

Mr. Baker continued, “Your call sign, Adrian, will be Hansel, which of course makes your sister...”

“Gretel,” I finished, throwing a quick scowl at Cindy, who had started to laugh.

Some of the other Knights were chuckling too.

“Don’t make a big deal of it, Adrian,” Terry said quietly into my ear. “It’s just a communication protocol. It’s not like they’re sending you into the forest.”

Since about this time last year, “protocol” had been one of my least favorite words, and I felt that us being called Hansel and Gretel in accordance with the Guardian Knights’ communication protocols added insult to an already awkward mission.

Alia wanted to explore the Knights’ house, so while “Rabbit” and “Jacob” helped the Knights with lunch preparations, I followed my sister upstairs. Most of the rooms were devoid of furniture, which probably was a good thing considering how many sleeping bags had to fit here.

“Codenames!” I spat disgustedly once we were out of earshot of the others. “Like we’re secret agents or something. Corny secret agents at that! I can’t believe Cindy named us Hansel and Gretel.”

“I think it’s cute,”
said Alia, giggling.

“Oh, yeah,” I said sarcastically, fingering the front of my flowery red and yellow shirt in distaste. “Just what I want in my life right now. More cute.”

“Well, I like it anyway.”

I rolled my eyes. Despite having nothing to do with unicorns,
Hansel and Gretel
was one of Alia’s favorite bedtime stories, and I had read the picture book to her many times over at the research center. Cindy probably knew that too.

“Would you rather be Cookie?”
Alia asked in a stunningly accurate imitation of Cindy’s fake game-show-host tone.

“Hansel is fine.”

We divided into the dining room and living room for lunch, which was basically a ton of macaroni and cheese. Mr. Baker performed a toast in his politician’s voice, saying, “To what will hopefully be our first step in restoring the balance of power.”

“I thought that establishing New Haven was the first,” one of the Knights joked, and I recognized him as the one who had escorted Alia and me back to the penthouse after our near-abduction last year.

“I had forgotten about that one!” laughed Mr. Baker. “We still have a long way to go, but if we can capture this Angel, it could very well speed us along.”

After eating, it was time to say goodbye to Cindy and head to our own house across the street. Mark, Terry, Alia and I picked up our bags and sleeping bags, and Cindy walked us out to the sidewalk.

“Now, I’m not going to visit,” said Cindy. “The mission starts right now, since you are no longer being hidden.”

“We know,” said Terry.

Cindy gave her a smile and a nod. Then, after shaking Mark’s hand and giving Alia a big hug, she turned to me, saying, “Take care of your sister, like you always do.”

“I will,” I promised.

“And don’t forget to use your codenames, okay, Hansel?” Cindy said with a wink.

I gave her an exasperated look. “Leave it to you to give us fairytale names, Cindy! You’re really impossible, you know that?”

Cindy smiled and said, “Remember, Adrian? Happily ever after.”

“Oh, right,” I chuckled. “So that’s where this came from.”

I had once told Cindy that Cat had suggested “And they all lived happily ever after” as the ending to my story. I was surprised that Cindy actually remembered that.

Cindy said seriously, “Just be safe, okay?”

I nodded and replied, “Always.”

As Cindy walked back into the Knights’ house, Mark led us across the street and into our new temporary home.

Despite being furnished, our house was hardly better than the Knights’. The curtains were stained and torn, the floorboards cracked and creaky. The beds in the second-floor bedrooms were too moldy to even consider sleeping on, and Alia jumped when she heard the scurrying of rodents above our heads.

“Ghosts?”
she asked in my head.

I laughed. “Worse than ghosts, Ali. Ghosts are dead. Those are rats. Living, breathing, ugly rats.”

The presence of rats was really the only evidence that this house had been recently occupied. I tried not to imagine what kind of person could have been living here until just a week ago. After finishing our short tour, we elected to simply lay our sleeping bags in the living room and make do with that. At least there were no rat holes in this room, and we could close the door on any potential nocturnal vermin. Fortunately, the house did have electricity, which meant a working refrigerator and microwave oven.

Terry had brought only weapons, but Mark and I had sensibly packed our bags with entertainment. Between us, we had brought card games, board games, coloring books for Alia, you name it. My sister had once again left her biggest unicorn at home, but she had brought along one of her smaller unicorn dolls. I hoped it would be enough.

Mission rules stated that Alia and I were restricted to the house and front and back yards, but Terry and Mark were free to go out so long as one of them stayed home with us. Mark agreed to do our shopping, and left in the sedan that the Knights had supplied us with.

I was still holding the transceiver Mr. Baker had given me, and Terry said, “Go ahead, try it. Call up Mr. Baker and say hi.”

“Okay...” I said hesitantly. I had never used one of these before, and there were so many little buttons on it that it took a moment before I even found the power switch. Terry watched me with amusement as I jumped when a bit of static burst from the speaker.

“Now what?” I asked.

“I think they said they were on channel four.”

I examined the buttons on the front of the device and discovered what she was talking about. Once I got the radio frequency set correctly, I put the transceiver up to my ear. Terry quickly snatched the device out of my hand, saying, “It’s not a phone, Adrian. You don’t need to stick it on your head. And see this big red button? Push to talk. Say ‘over’ when you’re finished and release it so you can hear them.”

I took the transceiver back and, holding it in front of me, I pressed down the largest red button.

“Say hello,” said Terry, nodding with approval.

I just barely managed to say with a straight face, “Hansel to Cookie, hello?”

“Say, ‘over’ when you’re done,” Terry reminded me.

“Oh, right,” I said, and added into the transceiver, “Over.”

“And let go of the talk button!”

I did, and we immediately heard, “This is Cookie. I read you loud and clear. Silver wants to talk. Hold on.”

A burst of static later, we heard Cindy’s voice on the speaker say, “Silver to Hansel, come in. Over.”

“Hansel here. Over,” I said.

Terry slapped my shoulder and said, “Push the button, Hansel!”

I scowled at her and, pushing the talk button, repeated, “Hansel here. Over.”

“How’s the house, Hansel? Over,” said Cindy.

“Very cozy, Silver. We’ve already met the resident ghosts. Over.”

Alia tugged on my arm, saying aloud in her slow and awkward voice, “I want to talk to Cindy.”

“Okay,” I said, “but don’t forget to call her Silver.”

“I know.”

We heard Mr. Baker’s voice say, “Is everyone already settled in? Over.”

“Yeah, um, Gretel wants to talk to Silver. Over,” I said.

Mr. Baker replied, “Roger that. Go ahead. Over.”

I held the transceiver close to Alia’s mouth and pushed the talk button for her. Alia said carefully, “Silver, hello. How are you?”

I added the “over” for her and released the button.

Cindy replied, “I’m great, Gretel. But I can hear you in my head at the same time. Try just using your mouth, sweetie. And what was Hansel saying about ghosts? Over.”

Alia took the transceiver in her hands and, pushing the talk button, said, “They are not ghosts. They are rats. Over.”

Terry whispered into my ear, “Your sister is better using that than you are.”

I ignored Terry as we heard Cindy laugh and say, “Well, don’t let them eat you up, Gretel. Over.”

“I’m talking on a phone,” Alia said excitedly into the transceiver. “I’m really talking on a phone. This is so fun, Cindy!”

I snatched the transceiver away from Alia. It crackled for a moment and then we heard Mr. Baker’s voice again. “Cookie to Hansel,” he said irately while Cindy giggled in the background, “please reinstruct Gretel on communication protocols before letting her use the transceiver again. Over.”

“Hansel to Cookie, will do. Over.”

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