Seven Wonders Book 2: Lost in Babylon (25 page)

We all looked at him blankly.

“Oh. Forgot,” Torquin nodded. “Professor says Shelley will be ready tonight. Wheels up at daybreak.”

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..................................................................

“Y
A
. . .
HMM-MMM-MMM
. . .
OHHHH
. . .
” The chopper was shaking as Torquin bounced along to some tune coming through a set of thick headphones.

“Will you keep it still? We're getting air sick!” Aly shouted from the backseat, where we were sitting.

Torquin pulled one of the phones away. “Sorry. Favorite group. Wu Tang Clan.”

In the copilot seat, Marco turned toward him. “Yo, Tork, do you do karaoke?”

Torquin made a face, snapping the headphone back in place. “Japanese food gives heartburn.”

Marco was laughing. I wished I could have his attitude. Aly's hands were gripping the rests, her knuckles practically white. Cass looked like he was about to hurl. My eye was on the window, where I could see the distant speck of our second helicopter. That one contained Professor Bhegad, Nirvana, Fiddle—and in the cargo hold, Shelley. It was descending as fast as we were, down toward the camp on the Euphrates.

Calm down
, I told myself. I went over all the stuff we'd discussed at the KI:

We would not be blamed for the earthquake. No one in Babylon would have a reason to make the connection between it and us.

Shelley would be easy to activate. We would have to figure out how to get back into the Hanging Gardens.

Our biggest challenges would be the animals and the guards. And Kranag, if he was still alive. Bhegad had given us all kinds of repellents, flashing devices, pepper spray, flammable liquid.

Back at the KI, it had all sounded so optimistic. We'd accepted Numbers One and Two without question. Number Three had seemed like a minor inconvenience.

Now, as we drew closer, I saw everything in a clearer, more realistic light.

We were out of our minds.

“Prepare for landing,” Torquin said.

Below us, I could already see the sand being whipped up by our blades. On the banks of the Euphrates, the remaining members of the KI team were swarming out of the tents to greet us. We set down gently. As we climbed down and rushed toward the water, we ran a gauntlet of high fives, shouts of good luck, pats on the back.

Professor Bhegad rushed into the midst of it all, with a tight smile and an impatient wave of the hands. “Let us save the big party for when Shelley is in place and the Loculus is returned. This is Journey Number Two. May it be the last.”

“Try Journey Number Three for me,” Marco reminded him.

“Yes, well,” Professor Bhegad said, “to the river, shall we?”

A caravan of KI scientists walked with us to the water's edge. It was all happening so fast. Aly, Cass, Marco, and I caught our breaths. My heart was thumping.

“Be careful,” Torquin said.

“Aren't you coming with us?” I asked.

Professor Bhegad answered for him. “We thought about it. It certainly was an option, now that we know it is possible to take along a non-Select. But we decided that you already have relationships with the Babylonians, and the introduction of someone new, with no knowledge of the language or culture, might arouse suspicion.”

“In other words, you are on your own,” Torquin said. He did not look disappointed.

Nirvana presented a backpack to Marco. “Inside this is a heavy-duty, ziplocked plastic bag,” she said, “with your four slave tunics, sandals, and Shelley.”

I peeked inside. Shelley had been folded up into a curved trapezoid.

“Go directly to the Hanging Gardens and deploy Shelley immediately,” Bhegad instructed us. “It has been designed so that even a Torquin can activate it.”

“Simple tap,” Torquin said, poking Professor Bhegad so hard that he stumbled away.

“Perhaps with not so much ... verve.” Bhegad removed his glasses, wiping them on his shirt. “As for the method of approaching the Loculus, I will leave that to you. So if everything is ready . . . Godspeed, my children.”

Cass turned to Torquin. “Take good care of Leonard,” he said.

“Like he was my own son, but a lizard,” Torquin said. He put one of his fleshy hands on my shoulder, another on Cass's. “Have fun. Chisel us a postcard.”

He snorted and wheezed in his Torquinian version of a laugh, and I knew he'd been practicing the joke all day.

I turned toward the Euphrates. Aly squeezed my hand briefly. I checked my pocket and felt the outline of a small hand mirror. It was a present I'd made my mom in second grade, lacquered on the back with a photo of her, Dad, and me playing in the snow. Since my conversation with Aly on the tennis court, I'd decided I wanted it with me at all times. Seeing the photo gave me hope and strength.

We ran until the water was too deep. I closed my eyes and jumped.

* * *

“Haaaa!” Marco yelled, tumbling out of the river on the Ancient Babylon side. He reached in and pulled Cass ashore. “Getting better at figuring where to come out!”

Cass was gasping for breath. “I don't know . . . how many more times . . . I will be able to do this.”

Aly and I swam to the bank. The trip through the portal had been smooth. Much quicker than the last time. Marco was right. We were getting good at this.

I sat on a rock to catch my breath. It was dark but the moon was bright, and it took me a moment to remember that even though we'd been gone four days, only a little more than an hour had passed in Ancient Babylon.

Marco was running around, collecting rocks the size of his biceps. He pushed each one into the sand until the rocks formed a large lambda shape. “I know Brother Cass can memorize this stuff, but ordinary Immortals like me need a marker.” Marco paused to look proudly at his handiwork, then began pulling the uniforms out of his pack. “Okay, campers, remember the drill. We find Daria and tell her how important this mission is. How we are trying to help the rebels by preserving Babylon. We talk her into going to the royal gardens with us. We wear some kind of disguise. We're her cousins who don't speak Aramaic. If Crag-face is gone, we're in. If he's not, we get him with the darts and then grab the Loculus. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.”

“I can't believe you said that,” Aly said.

Cass, Marco, and I walked off behind a dense thicket to change into the tunics. I folded my clothes up and put them in a pile. At the last minute, I fished out the mirror and took a long look at the photo. Carved into the wood below it was my happy birthday message. Dad had inscribed it in back, and over time his message had started to bleed through.

Max, Anne, and Jack—Happy McKinleys
.

Marco was looking off into the bushes. “So. Guys. You get a head start. I'll follow. I—I think I just ate too much for lunch.”

“You have got to be kidding,” Aly said. “Again? What's with you?”

“What do you mean,
again
?” Marco asked.

“This happened at the palace,” Aly said. “The time shift affects your digestive system and no one else's.”

“I'm human, all right?” Marco said. “Just go. Now. Trust me, you guys won't want to be downwind of me for about a hundred yards.”

“Good point,” Cass said.

We bolted. Marco was Marco.

It was a short trek out of the wooded area and onto the side of a large field of grain. The moon had sunk toward the horizon, and the sky had a predawn glow. I caught the comfy whiff of a wood-burning fireplace, which reminded me of home—until I realized it may have been the lingering scent of Kranag's destroyed cottage.

Even in the dim moonlight I could see signs of the earthquake damage we'd caused—gullies running through the field, cracked earth, a wooden hut caved in on one side. People were running in and out of the city via the moat bridge, under the watchful eye of the tower guards.

We fell in with the crowd and snuck through the gate. I'm not sure if the tower guards saw our faces or not, but there was more then enough chaos to keep them busy.

The streets of the outer city were still damp. Some roofs had been blown off, and carts lay broken and abandoned. In and out of alleyways, people chased animals that had run loose during the storm. We trudged for about a half hour before we reached the higher gate—the one to the inner city and Etemenanki, the Tower of Babel. The air had the silvery glow of early morning now, and I was starting to worry about Marco. “Should we wait here for Superman?” I asked.

“He probably took a shortcut,” Cass said. “I bet he's at the cottage already.”

Aly nodded. “Any reason to gloat.”

The rising sun showed a market in chaos, with people passing buckets of water. The souk stand where they guard had eaten lamb earlier was a smoldering pile of charred wood. I hoped desperately that no one had been hurt. I felt guilty. We'd caused this.

The burning smell hurt my eyes as we walked up the sloped street toward Etemenanki. I thought we might be stopped at the entrance to Ká-Dingir-rá, the palace grounds. But to our relief, the guards nodded politely as we entered. Aly led the way, charging up the street. Cass and I nearly collided with three
wardum
children who ran out of an alleyway chasing some kind of bird that looked like a chicken.

Aly stopped short at the corner to the road that led to our guest house. She held up a finger and mouthed, “Wait!”

We came up beside her carefully. Up the road, a clutch of soldiers had gathered out front of the guest house, with Daria in their midst. Marco was nowhere to be seen.

Daria caught a glimpse of us and shook her head in a way that meant
stay away
. We backed down the road, out of sight of the house. Quickly I led us into the alley where the little kids had emerged. “I don't like this,” Cass said. “Those guards were mad. We're fugitives. We caused mass destruction!”

“They don't know we did it,” Aly reminded him.

“Right, but they know we escaped,” Cass said.

I spotted a blur coming around the street corner. Daria's face peering out of a shawl and waved. She ran to us, her features taut with concern. “Where is Marco?” she asked.

“He went to the bathroom,” Cass said.

“He is taking bath?” Daria asked.

“Long story,” Aly said.

Daria nodded. “But you—why are you here? I left you at Mother's Mountain. Were you caught in the earthquake?”

I glanced at Aly. “Sort of,” I said. “We ran away.”

“It is bad here,” Daria said. “Bab-Ilum needs much fixing. King wants all guards to help. He sent his men to get your house guards. They do not remember the darts that put them to sleep. But they are angry you left. Did you get what you needed?”

“No,” I replied. “We have to go back.”

“Go back?” Daria said. “This is not possible.”

“We have no choice,” I said.

“Please, get it another place!” Daria pleaded. “Did the guards see you? If they know your faces, they will be cruel. They will not let it happen twice.”

“Daria, I don't know how to say this,” I said. “I know this is hard to believe. But we're sick, and we will die unless we get something from that garden. Something we can't get anywhere else.”

Daria's eyes softened. “You are sick?” she asked. “Marco too?”

“We do not have long to live,” I said. “Unless we accomplish our task.”

Daria looked away. “Yes, well . . .” she said softly. “The Garden is full of wonders. I too have a friend who was once dying. I . . . I stole something from a tree . . . a fruit . . .”

“So you understand,” I said. “You'll help us?”

Daria tightened her shawl. She glanced toward the guest house, her face showing a mixture of fear and uncertainty. “Stay here. Do not let the guards at the house see you. I will return.”