Seven Wonders Book 2: Lost in Babylon (35 page)

HarperCollins Publishers

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T
HE DOOR CLICKED
open. We pushed it hard and slipped inside. The thing weighed a ton.

“Stavros? Is that you—finally?” Dimitrios's impatient voice bellowed.

Click
.

The door made an oddly delicate sound as it shut.

We held our breath. A different voice shouted from the right, the direction we had just come from. “Nowhere, Brother Dimitrios! Vanished from their rooms. Both of them. But they can't go far.”

Brother Yiorgos.

Now the voices met, directly in front of us. “The trackers?” Dimitrios demanded. “If they escape—”

“They're wearing the bracelets,” Yiorgos said. “The KI will not be able to find them if they escape. Which they will not do.”

Dimitrios made a sound of disgust. “I want every exit out of this place sealed,” he said.

I could hear his footsteps thumping away from us. We stood still in the ensuing silence, not daring to move. The room was pitch-black. A string, connected to an overhead lightbulb, tickled the top of my head. My chest felt like a rabid hamster had been let loose inside.

I knew a Loculus was in here. Maybe both Loculi. The Song was deafening. I stared at the sliver of light under the door. It flickered as guards raced past. Now random shouts were echoing loud and fast. Voices I didn't recognize. Languages I didn't know.

When this wave of sounds was gone, I reached upward and pulled the string. The bulb clicked on, flooding the room with greenish-white light.

The rear side of the door was a slab of metal, undecorated. At the spot opposite the sensor was a thick iron latch, which had opened when we'd used the retina.

I turned into the room. It was empty, save for an old, sturdy-looking wall safe with a rusted panel:

“Try the pattern!” I said.

Cass started with 142857, then went on to 428571 and 285714. “They're not working!” he said.

“Stop,” I said, staring at the panel.

Simplify
.

The number keys looked old. Some of them were faded. If people had been opening this safe for years, their fingers would wear off the numbers.

The wear and tear showed a pattern.

I lifted my finger toward the one. Then I tapped out a pattern that resembled the shape of a seven—left to right across the top, then diagonally down to the left-hand corner.

1, 2, 3, 5, and 7.

With a dull click, the door swung open.

Inside, embedded in the wall, was a deep rectangular hole that contained two wooden boxes. “Eureka,” I whispered.

Cass opened one, to see a familiar glow—the flying Loculus. As he reached inside, it levitated to meet his fingers. “Good to see this again . . .”

I opened the other box, which seemed to contain nothing. As I thrust my hand inside, my knuckles hit something solid. I grinned. “Two for two.”

Attached to the wall, to the right of the safe, was a table containing a couple of sturdy sacks—big ones, which had obviously been used to carry the boxed Loculi here.

I placed the flying Loculus, in its box, inside one sack.

The other Loculus I would need to have in hand. Quietly I sidled to the doorway and put my ear against it. Silence.

Looking at Cass, I mouthed
Let's go
.

As we turned back to the Loculus, the door beeped. I looked over my shoulder.

The inner latch was turning downward, slowly. I reached up, pulling the lightbulb string. The light went out.

And the door began to swing open.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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T
HE LIGHT BLINKED
on. A man with thick stubble looked straight at me. He muttered something extremely nasty-sounding in another language.

Then he looked away.

Behind him, a woman wearing a Massa cap peered inside. Her eyes circled the closet.

My back was jammed against the wall, my palm firmly on the Loculus. I held my breath. Cass was clutching my arm so tightly I wanted to scream. I wanted to remind him that invisibility depended on contact, not grip strength.

The two began to argue. The woman reached up and shut the light. Slowly the door swung back.

We waited for the click. Even then, neither of us dared take a breath for a few seconds. Until the footfalls had faded into the distance.

“That was close,” Cass said. “I owe you, Jack.”

“Stay alive,” I replied. “That will be the best payback. Now let's get out of here. Hang on to my arm.”

I held on to the invisibility Loculus, and Cass took the flying one. No one would be able to see us. I carefully thrust the handle down, pushed the door open, and stepped into the hallway.

It felt great. Too great. You have no idea what your body feels like when you're invisible. Solid but weightless. It's the opposite of being underwater. There you have to adjust to the resistance. You push harder. Every motion is exaggerated. With invisibility, it's the opposite. You feel like your arm will fling off with every swing, your feet will slip and thrust you into the air. You have to pull back. It makes you want to giggle.

And I could hardly imagine a less giggleworthy moment.

I turned left. At the corner I peered around to see the exit. At the end of the long hallway, in front of the exit door where we'd seen Dimitrios minutes before, three burly men stood guard.

Cass's grip tightened on my arm. We lifted off the floor, only a few inches, to avoid having to make footsteps. I sucked in a lungful of dry desert air that blew in through the open door. It felt liberating.

Unfortunately the ceiling was too low for us to fly over the guards' heads. So we hovered, waiting.

The sound of a truck stopped the men's conversation. Through the door I could see uniformed men piling out, rifles and ammo belts across their chests. We shrank against the walls as the small militia ran inside, shouting.

I shivered. Cass stared wide-mouthed.

The soldiers were fitted out for war. They were here to find us.

As the guys spread out to the different hallways, the three guards turned back toward the open door. They were looking outside again, shoulder to shoulder.

What do we do now?
Cass mouthed.

With my free hand, I reached for the pouch on my belt and mouthed back,
Call MacGruber
.

By now, the container of ice cream was melted and gooey. I tossed it, and it landed about three feet behind us with a dull thud. It was totally visible, totally a mess. For good measure, I threw the bottle of vegetable oil after it.

The guards turned. Their faces scrunched in bewilderment, and they began walking toward it curiously. Leaving the door. Heading directly in front of us.

We backed away, flattening ourselves even more.

One of the guards bumped against my shoulder. Solid. I nearly dropped the Loculus.

He staggered back with a gasp. In his eyes I could see two and two coming together reluctantly. These guys must have been taught about us. About what we had found.

The man called sharply to the others. All three reached into holsters, pulling out pistols.

Two of them walked slowly toward us, their eyes unfocused but intent. The third moved to the door, blocking escape.

The guard closest to us grinned. “We know you are there. Exactly where. You cannot get away. I will proud to be the one to bring you in. So. You have to the count of three to appear, or I will shoot. One . . .”

I looked at Cass. My fingers were sweaty and slippery on the Loculus. I wedged it under my arm.

The guard poked me with his rifle butt and laughed. “Three!”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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I
HEARD THE
click of a safety catch. I wrapped my fingers around the pepper container, screwing off the top—and I tossed the contents.

Moving fast, I wriggled out of the gun's way. And I tossed the contents.

“Yeeeeeaaaa-CHOO
!”

The guards and his ally sprang back. The other guard, the one at the door, faltered, just in time for me to throw another fistful of pepper.

“Let's go!” I shouted.

We tore out of the building to a chorus of sneezing, and a new vocabulary of very bad words.

We kept to the outer wall, staying in the shadows. Not far away, we sped by the soldiers' truck. As I passed, I noticed a set of keys flung into the cup compartment. “Have you ever tried driving?” I asked.

“Yup,” Cass piped up. “On the farm.”

We jumped in. Cass put the truck in gear, and we lurched away in a cloud of foul odor.

* * *

The streets of Nazlet el-Samman were a relief. They smelled of cinnamon and frying meat. We had ditched the truck just off the highway, far away from here, and jogged the rest of the way.

“Police?” I asked whoever would listen. “Do you know where the police are?”

“How about a girl, about our age?” Cass said. “Really smart?”

We looked around desperately for cops and for Aly, but it was hard to see. The street was packed shoulder to shoulder. On the one hand, this might help shield us from the Massa, but on the other hand, we could barely move. I had to grab Cass's arm to keep from being separated. Every hat looked like a Massa lambda cap to me. Every person looked like a Massa. I saw at least seven men who were dead ringers for Brother Dimitrios. Mustaches were everywhere.

It was getting close to lunchtime and vendors stirred up food in great big pots. A kid in a striped T-shirt raced in and out of slow-moving tourists. “Hahahaha!” he cackled, easily evading a pursuer who must have been his younger brother. A girl walked purposefully by us, pulling two goats on tethers. Voices rang out loudly in all kinds of languages: “Over here . . .
ella tho
. . .
kommen sie hier bitte . . . bienvenue . . 
. the best!”