The Twin Powers (9 page)

When the knock came, I said, “Who's there?”

A jolly voice said, “Room service.”

“Sorry, I'm busy.”

The voice laughed and rattled the doorknob. “The old chair-under-the-doorknob trick. Pretty good, but these warm cookies are getting cold.”

I could smell them. These guys could break down the door if they wanted to—no point in being unfriendly until I had to. Might as well open the door. A few cookies weren't going to crack me.

“Hey, man, sorry about all this.” The man in the dark suit was carrying a tray with cookies and soda. “I'm Agent Quinn. We were concerned about your safety back there, had to move quickly to get you out.” He put the tray on the chest of drawers. “Help yourself.”

He sat down in one of the chairs. He had a tough face but he was smiling.

I could feel my heart beating, but I stayed cool. I took a cookie. “Our safety?”

“After they kidnapped Ronnie, we figured they'd come after you.”

“Who kidnapped Ronnie?” It didn't make sense. Ronnie had taken off because he couldn't stand the real Tom and what Eddie had turned into. He couldn't stand being cooped up in the wagon with me and Alessa. Strange little guy.

“Wish we knew. Maybe you can help us. Who's Tom been talking to?”

“We don't see him that much. He has interviews all day.”

“What about before you started the tour? Anything strange?”

Got to see where this is going,
I thought.
Tell him stuff he probably knows.
“The fight in the cafeteria? The kid they called Hercules?”

Agent Quinn nodded. “Heard about it. Don't kids fight all the time? What was so special about that fight?”

Uh-oh.
Did I trip myself up? Is this guy trying to get me to talk about aliens?

“Tom had a rep,” I said. “You ever see the YouTube clip where he greased a bully in his last middle school?”

Agent Quinn looked interested. “How'd we miss that? Good intel, Todd. So what's your theory?”

“When this Hercules came to school, he heard about Tom. He was like a gunfighter who shows up in a new town and right away has to prove himself.”

“I love Westerns,” said Agent Quinn. “You see
Cowboys & Aliens
?”

Now, that was smooth. This guy was no lunkhead. But neither was I.

“Yeah. I don't believe in aliens, so it kind of spoiled a good Western.”

“What if I told you there really are aliens and we need your help to track them down before they attack Earth?”

“Really?” I hoped I didn't overdo my fake expression of amazement.

“You're sharp, Todd, the kind of kid who grows up to be an agent.”

I figured he was just buttering me up, but he wasn't off base. I'd thought about going into law enforcement.

“I was like you when I was your age, Todd, but of course, I wasn't in the trouble you're in.”

“Trouble for what?”

“Lying to a federal agent, to the government. We want to give you the same chance we gave Alessa to come clean and avoid charges and prison time.”

“Come clean about what?” I tried to keep my voice steady.

“About the aliens that Tom is in contact with.” Agent Quinn stood up. “Enjoy your snack, Todd. Try to remember anything to help your situation.”

“My situation?”

“Nobody knows where you are, Todd. We could keep you here forever.”

He locked the door behind him.

EDDIE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

2012

 

T
HE
first time I thought about busting loose, I was watching myself on TV being Tom and I was saying, “Whatever happened to responsibility, loyalty, obedience, reverence? Staying strong as a country, protecting ourselves?” I had been reading that off the Teleprompter.

I believe in all that—I am a Scout!—but I don't really talk like that.

Then the TV showed some old guys in suits and ties sitting around a table talking. One of them said, “A child has come to lead us,” and another said, “He's a puppet of dangerous interests,” and another said, “He's a boy genius,” and another said, “He's a holy fool.”

I knew they were talking about me—at least, the kid they'd seen on TV, who wasn't really me.

My mind was spinning like after getting sacked hard in a football game.

That was when I finally clicked off the TV and tried to think. The television was always on when I was in the hotel room, and I was in the room most of the time, watching TV and eating room-service food. I hadn't felt like a prisoner at first. I could choose anything I wanted from the room-service menu. I loved ordering burgers, fries, shrimp cocktails, ice cream, soda. When I noticed I was softening up and slowing down from all that food, I started doing pushups, sit-ups, stretches. It was a big room. I felt better.

I could exercise while I watched TV. It was hard not to watch. The shows were amazing—the movies you could click on, the language, the girls, the music, the action, things blowing up in slow motion, all that blood—how could they get away with it? I'd never seen anything like that on EarthTwo. I liked the cop shows best. They were easy to follow even while I worked out.

But I couldn't leave the room on my own. I'd been angry when I'd discovered that. One afternoon when I'd felt bored and lonely, I decided to go down to the lobby, just to hang out and see what was going on. When I stepped out of my room, I spotted two Agent Brown types in the hall, one in a chair near my door, the other down by the elevators. They both jumped up and blocked my way. They were polite. Orders, they'd said. There were too many people who wanted to meet me. Some of them might want to hurt me.

Later, Erin explained that I was getting to be too famous to go around like an everyday guy.

That was when I remembered busting out of the hotel room less than a week ago on EarthTwo, making the TV explode and running down to the lobby in my underwear. I could do that again. Would Hercules be waiting for me downstairs in a taxi the way he'd been last time? Where
was
Hercules? I could probably escape without him. But then what? Where were Tom and Ronnie and Buddy?

I tried to focus but I couldn't tune Tom in. I concentrated until my head was splitting, but it felt as though something was blocking the transmission. Where was Tom now? I had to get out of there. I needed to talk to Tom, be with him. Two halfie twins could figure this out. Two halfies make a whole.

TOM

SOMEWHERE IN NEW JERSEY

2012

 

I'
M
no touchy-feely guy, but I had to feel sorry for the panic on Ronnie's face, even though I couldn't understand making such a big deal over a dirty little dog.

“We've got to leave him,” I said.

Ronnie clenched his jaw. “Not going to happen.”

“He'll lead them right to us.”

“You can take off if you want.”

“I will. I'm Tom, not Eddie. I don't care about you or your dog.”

“If you're Tom,” said Ronnie, looking me right in the eye, “then do something. You're supposed to be so smart.”

That got to me. I was the twin who was supposed to figure things out. And maybe I did care just a little. I didn't really want to leave them.

“As long as that chip is in him, he'll—”

“So get it out,” said Ronnie. His face was hard.

“Yeah, sure, find a vet, convince him to do it and not tell anybody. You serious?”

“I'm serious about not leaving him.” There was no question Ronnie was serious.

Now what?

I probed Ronnie's mind. There were walls and angles, but I got to a clear place.
Tom acts mean but he really cares. Tom's smart. Tom can help us.

Better believe it,
I thought. But then I wondered, was my imagination making up those thoughts? Or maybe Ronnie created those feelings to trick me?

Man, you don't trust anybody.

I said out loud, “Must be a first-aid kit in the car.”

Ronnie was swift. “You think we can do it?”

“We have to.”

He gave me a big smile.

The first-aid kit was a metal suitcase packed with enough equipment and medicine to treat a major wound. We'd stolen the car of some prime-time cops. We unrolled a silvery survival blanket on the filthy floor. I'd read about field medicine on a survival website. I took out what I thought we would need: lots of sterile gauze pads, scalpels in their paper packages, needle and thread, tweezers, scissors, and antiseptic. I didn't know what the antibiotics and painkillers would do to a dog, so I left them in the suitcase.

Ronnie led Buddy to the blanket, gently pushed him down, and held him in place. Buddy let him—he trusted him. Ronnie lifted Buddy's ear and began whispering into it. They both looked nervous.

I pretended I wasn't. I tried to sound like a surgeon on a TV show. “We'll have that right out, old Buddy-roo.”

“Eddie always says that you want Tom on your team when the going gets tough.”

“He really says that?”

“Yeah. He also says you aren't always so nice.”

We both laughed.

I picked up a scalpel and imagined cutting into Buddy, the blood shooting out, the dog screaming in pain.

I said, “Maybe
you
should . . .”

Ronnie nodded and picked up the sharp little scissors. He cut away as much of Buddy's hair as he could around the microchip, leaving a bald patch. I soaked that with antiseptic. I handed Ronnie the scalpel and poured antiseptic on the blade.

Ronnie was very slow and careful, cutting a tiny semicircle around the little lump. Buddy grunted but he stayed still. He yelped once when Ronnie squeezed the cut and a gray metal button popped right out of his fur.

There was hardly any blood. I poured more antiseptic on the cut and Ronnie covered it with a bandage. Buddy whimpered.

“Good dog,” I said.

Buddy looked up at me, sneezed, then stood up and shook himself off. He growled at me.

“Back to normal,” I said. “That was great, Ronnie.”

Ronnie let out a long breath.

I picked up the microchip off the silver blanket. I could feel indentations on the casing. I cleaned off the chip and studied it. There were letters and numbers:
NASA–205BA46–000D1
.

“Government, all right,” I said. “The space agency is hoping Buddy will lead them to the aliens through us.”

“What now?”

“We've got to get out of here. Look for a sewer drain we can drop the chip down on the way out.”

“Where are we going?”

I shook my head. “I guess we just start running.”

“There was another guy with the ones who grabbed me—he was different,” said Ronnie.

I had a queasy feeling. My psychic powers? “Red whiskers?” I asked.

“How'd you know?”

“The Lump,” I said.

“He told me that. Eddie mentioned him once. Who exactly is he?”

“Big trouble,” I said. “Right after Dad disappeared a few years ago, he moved into our house. Mom said he was just a tenant, helping with the mortgage, but I thought he was her boyfriend by the way he ordered her around, and that got me mad.”

“No wonder you always seemed like such an angry guy,” said Ronnie. “When you came to EarthTwo pretending to be Eddie, I thought you were Eddie gone nuts.”

“The Lump acted like some kind of government agent, always down in the basement on his computers. Hacking, I thought. He'd come up for a beer, sprawl all over the couch, hog the TV.”

“Eddie said he liked him,” said Ronnie. “They watched baseball together.”

“Eddie
would
like him,” I growled. Buddy growled back.

But then Buddy jumped away from Ronnie and cocked his head up. It took a moment, but then we heard the humming sound too. Drones.

“I think we need to split up,” said Ronnie.

“Why?”

“You'll have a better chance without us slowing you down,” he said. “If they find you, they'll know you and Eddie are twins, that there are two of you. That would be bad.”

I hadn't thought of that. Ronnie was right. Still . . .

“I think we should stick together,” I said.

Ronnie shook his head. “Maybe you can hide somewhere here. I'll keep the microchip and be out in the open. Once they've got me, they won't keep looking for you. They don't know you exist.”

“What about you?”

“I'll be okay.”

“You weren't okay the last time they got you.”

“You saved me,” said Ronnie. “You'll do it again.”

ALESSA

SOMEWHERE IN NORTHERN VIRGINIA

2012

 

I'
D
never really been hungry before, not the kind of
hungry
hungry where your stomach hurts and growls and your eyeballs feel loose and your brain feels light and floaty. In fact, I've rarely missed meals. I've always been heavy, and my parents have tried every kind of diet that might slim me down. I learned from the No-Diet Workshop that you should never eat on a totally empty stomach because then you'll eat too much. You should always carry something to eat—carrot sticks or even an energy bar. But I didn't have anything now.

I wondered why I wasn't more scared than hungry, but it was hard to be too scared when I was so hungry. Hunger beat fear. Anyway, weren't federal agents supposed to be on
our
side?

I was worried about Britzky. I knew Agent Mathison had been lying when she'd said Todd had spilled his guts to save himself. He would never do that. He was crazy brave. But maybe they'd tortured him. Maybe they knew enough to get him to say something that tripped him up.

What were we hiding? A lot. That Tom has a twin, Eddie. That they are half human beings, half aliens. That there are aliens out there who created a second Earth—fifty-four years behind this one—and are now considering destroying both of them because they are worried that we earthlings aren't being responsible in terms of nuclear weapons and extreme weather. We don't trust the aliens, but we had to cooperate with them if we wanted to get Tom and Eddie's dad back.