Science Fair (35 page)

Alongside Rol erblade Barbie was her head, stil looking blond and perky, next to the shard used to sever it. The shard, Toby decided, might be just the thing for slashing the electrical cables in the ME kids’ projects. He was about to grab it when Micah tugged at his arm.

“Uh, Toby…” said Micah.

“What?” snapped Toby.

“They see you,” said Micah.

“Who does?”

“THERE HE IS!” shouted Lance Swingle.

“Them,” said Micah.

Toby looked toward the far end of the row. Swingle stood there, pointing at him; two burly lackeys were already running his way. Toby whirled and looked away. Jason and Coach Furman were coming. Toby was trapped in the middle of the row. He reached for the iPhone and stabbed the magic wand. He looked down and watched with relief as his legs disappeared.

And then they reappeared.

He looked at the phone. The screen was black.

The battery was dead.

“GET HIM!” screamed Swingle.

Swingle’s men had arrived; so had Jason and Coach Furman. Toby and Micah were surrounded. Swingle’s men moved in.

“Stay back!’ shouted Toby, reaching his right hand behind him. “I have a knife!”

One of Swingle’s men reached into his sport jacket. Toby felt around desperately on the table. Final y his hand closed on something. “I’m warning you!” he said. “If you come near me, I WILL cut you!” Then, with a dramatic flourish, he whipped his arm around and waved his weapon.

Unfortunately, it was the headless Rol erblade Barbie.

“Whoops,” said Micah.

“Is that a
doll
, Hardbonger?” said Jason.

“No!” said Toby, quickly stuffing it into his back pocket.

The large man pul ed his hand from his jacket; he was now pointing a large gun at Toby. “Raise your hands,” he said.

Toby raised his hands.

“You, too,” said the man to Micah.

“I have a frog in my hands,” said Micah.

“Then raise the frog, too,” said the man.

Micah raised his hands, and Fester.

“Now
don’t move
,” said the man with the gun.

“We’re not moving,” said Toby.

“I think I’m gonna wet my pants,” said Micah.

“Wel , do it without moving,” said Toby.

T
HE PRESIDENT WATCHED
as the floppy-haired young man on the TV screen headed into the home stretch of “MacArthur Park,” straining hard and failing to reach the high notes. The president turned to his two aides, both on the phone, both frantical y taking notes.

“He’s finishing,” the president said. “Somebody tel me something.”

“Okay,” said the communications director, reading from his notes. “Here’s what we’ve got: this kid is from
America’s Next Superstar
, the TV show, five years ago.”

“
Five years
ago?” said the president.

“Right,” said the communications director. “The song ends”—he listened to a voice on the phone—“pretty soon.”

“I know the song,” said the president. “But who
is
this kid? Why do we care?”

“His name is Gmygmy,” said the chief of staff.

“What?” said the president.

“G-m-y-g-m-y,” said the chief of staff, looking at his notes. “Americans pronounce it basical y like ‘Jimmy-Jimmy.’”

“But who is he?” asked the president.

“He’s the son of the president of Krpshtskan.”

“What?”

“He’s the oldest son of Grdankl the Strong,” said the chief of staff. “Five years ago, he came to the U.S. to compete on
America’s Next Superstar
. He got pretty far into the competition, but it seems people were voting for him mainly as a joke. But he didn’t know it. He bought into it. Thought he was going to win. When he got voted off the show he broke down on camera, cried like a baby, had a nervous breakdown right on TV. It was a huge scandal in Krpshtskan—son of the president and al . It’s a culture where a man
never
cries. Big loss of face for the family.”

The president looked at the TV screen. Gmygmy was finishing “MacArthur Park,” trying, with no success, to hit a final high note, sounding like a seriously injured cat. The camera flashed to the three judges, one of whom was plugging his ears with his fingers.

“So you’re tel ing me,” the president said, “that this lunatic Grdankl wants to destroy the United States because his son got voted off a TV show?”

“It looks that way, sir.”

“It gets great ratings,” said the director of communications. “My daughter and wife—”

“Shut up,” said the president.

“Yes, sir,” said the director of communications.

“Sir,” said the chief of staff, his ear pressed to the phone, “there’s something else.”

“What is it?” said the president.

The chief of staff listened over the phone for another few seconds, then said, “Grdankl the Strong has another son. Named…ah…Pr…P-something. I can’t pronounce it.”

“So?” said the president.

“He’s here.”

“
Here
?” said the president. “As in?”

“INS places him as being employed at a middle school in the Maryland suburbs. Which…” The chief of staff was listening to the phone again.

“Which
what
?” the president said impatiently.

“Which is in the same general area the FBI thinks the power-grid attack is coming from,” said the chief of staff. Again, he listened to the phone. His eyebrows arched. “
Seriously
?” he said.

“WHAT?” said the president.

“Seems the local cops up there just chased two suspect Krpsht nationals to the same middle school in…wel …in a
Wienermobile
,” said the chief of staff.

“The police were driving a
Wienermobile
?” said the president, rubbing his hair.

“No, sir. The Krpshts were. Apparently they stole it from a supermarket in—”

“Never mind how they got it,” snapped the president. “Are they in custody?”

“Um, no, sir.”

“WHY THE HECK NOT?”

“The police car…crashed, sir. Wrecked.”

“I want EVERY AVAILABLE AGENT at that school
NOW
,” shouted the president.

“Yes, sir. We’re on it. Everybody’s responding and converging on the school,” said the chief of staff. “FBI, Homeland, police, everybody we’ve got.” The president looked at the screen. It showed a freeze-frame close-up of Gmygmy’s smiling, floppy-hair-framed face. From the speakers came an odd moaning noise, like a walrus giving birth. On the screen, below the smiling frozen image of Gmygmy, appeared the words REPUBLIC OF KRPSHTSKAN NATIONAL ANTHEM.

The president glared at the screen. “A
TV show
,” he said, spitting out the words. “I am going make those people so sorry they ever—”

“Sir,” said the chief of staff, his ear stil to the phone.

“What?” said the president.

“The grid’s going down again.”

“Where?” said the president.

The chief of staff waved an arm.

“Everywhere,” he said.

P
RMKT’S FINGERS DANCED
on the keyboard, issuing command after command in rapid sequence. One by one, he was taking down the major regions of the North American power grid.

Soon al of America—except for Hubble Middle School, which Prmkt would keep online—would lose its electricity. More than three hundred mil ion people—already terrified—would be plunged into ful -on panic, in the dark.

But that would be just the beginning. Because when the grid was down, and America was most vulnerable, Prmkt would issue his last sequence of commands. He would summon the ful power of the science-fair projects he had net-worked, and then, in one lightning strike, he would unleash the final punishment, the attack from which the United States would never recover.

He would unleash the Pulse.

T
OBY’S ARMS WERE GETTING TIRED
. He and Micah had stood for several minutes with their hands up, watched closely by Swingle’s big bodyguard with the big gun. Behind this man stood Swingle with two more lackeys. A third lackey was just trotting up to meet them.

“The cops are here,” he told Swingle. “They’re rounding up the rest of them.”

“Good,” said Swingle, glaring at Toby.

“Listen,” said Toby. “You got us, okay? Can you tel the Hulk here to put down the gun?”

“Not a chance,” said Swingle.

“What are you afraid of?” said Toby. “The frog?”

“Listen,
punk
,” said Swingle, stepping forward. But before he could say any more, a commotion erupted to the right. Toby looked that way and saw Tamara being dragged toward them by Coach Furman and Jason Niles.

“Unhand me!” she was shouting. “I am a lady!”

“Unhand?” said Micah.

“Lady?” said Toby.

As Jason and Coach Furman dragged Tamara up from one direction, a large group appeared at the other end of the row of tables. The group was headed by The Hornet, who was fol owed by agents Turow, Iles, and Lefkon, who were fol owed by a dozen police officers, some with guns drawn. Toby saw why: they had captured Drmtsi and Vrsk, who were being hustled forward, along with…

Oh, no.
Toby groaned as he saw, in the middle of the cluster, his mom and dad in their Star Wars costumes.

As The Hornet walked up, she gave Toby a glare that he could feel al the way down his back. Then she turned to Swingle and, gesturing to the three feds, said, “These are agents of the federal government. They’re going to take these students into custody.”

“Good,” said Swingle. “I want them prosecuted to the ful est extent of the law. Not only did they destroy my helicopter, but they nearly kil ed me!”

“This isn’t about your helicopter,” said Turow. “Or you.”

“By the way,” said Iles. “Your pilot? The one you left unconscious in the cockpit? Paramedics say he’s going to be okay. In case you were worried.” Swingle reddened.

“Later on,” said Turow, “we’l talk about why you were trying to take off against an FAA directive.” Swingle started to say something, but Turow, ignoring him, turned to Toby.

“For a supposedly smart kid,” Turow said, “you are unbelievably stupid.”

“Please,” said Toby. “Listen. I—”

Turow held up his hand. “I’l listen when you and the rest of the Wienermobile gang”—he waved at the prisoners—“are locked up again.”

“My parents had nothing to do with this,” said Toby.

Turow glanced at Roger and Fawn.

“Mr. and Mrs. Han Solo?” he said. “They’re your parents?”

“It’s a Luke Skywalker costume,” said Roger.

“Yes,” sighed Toby. “They’re my parents.”

Turow shook his head. “Should have guessed,” he said. “Anyway, they aided the escape, so they’re coming with us.”

“Please,” said Toby. “Let me do one thing first, okay? Please?”

“What?” said Turow.

“Let me unplug those projects,” said Toby, pointing at the ME kids’ section.

“Hey!” said Jason. “Those aren’t yours!”

“They’re not yours, either,” said Toby. “You didn’t build them.”

“You shut up!” said Jason, stepping toward Toby.

“Hold it!” said Turow, shoving Jason back. To Toby, he said, “You’re not unplugging anything. You’re coming with us.” He took Toby’s arm. Toby shook free.

“No! Listen!” said Toby. “The blackouts! They’re coming from here! He’s using those projects to cause the blackouts!”