The Lost Code (10 page)

“What’s your big theory?” I asked her.

“Well . . .” Lilly looked away and started picking at a fingernail with the thumb and index finger of her other hand, like this was important stuff and she wanted to say it just right. “So, here we are, right,” she began, “in EdenWest. Outside, things are a mess, and eventually, this dome is going to fail. And all the other Edens are in the same boat.”

“Except for EdenSouth,” I added. “That place got destroyed by the Heliad-7 cult.”

“Yeah,” said Lilly. “Have you guys heard much about Desenna?” she asked with interest.

“Not really,” I said.

“Oh,” said Lilly, sounding disappointed. “Well, anyway, each dome has a couple hundred thousand people inside. So, ask yourself this: What’s going to happen when the domes fail? Where are all those people going to go?”

“But I heard yesterday that the dome is at, like, eighty-six-percent safe or something,” I said. “Well, but then we also saw that panel catch on fire.”

“Exactly. And that whole dome integrity business is a complete lie,” said Lilly. “They fudge those numbers. We’ve heard it’s more like seventy-five percent, at best.”

“Not
we
,” said Evan, dragging himself out of the water. “
You
heard that from the Nomad Alliance. How do you know any of what they say is reliable?”

Lilly glared at Evan.

“You’ve talked to the Nomads?” I asked. I’d seen Nomads now and then. Sometimes a pod of them would come to Hub for emergency care, or to trade some valuable item they’d dug up out in the wastelands, but mostly they kept out of sight. “How?”

“They broadcast on the gamma link,” said Lilly. “It’s called the Alliance Free SignalCast, and”—she narrowed her eyes at Evan—“
informed
people should get the other side of the story sometimes. This little bubble here isn’t the entire universe.”

“It’s all a lie. Those people just want to get in here,” said Evan.

“Actually, that’s where you’re woefully incorrect,
professor
,” said Lilly. “The Nomads don’t want in anymore. They know this place is halfway to being a microwave oven, and how would
you
know, anyway?”

“Whatever,” said Evan. He started bouncing again.

“You just don’t want to face facts,” said Lilly. “You want to mess around like this really is just good ol’ summer camp, like it’s, well, Eden.”

“Hey, that’s what they promised me.” Evan bounded higher, and there was an edge to his voice now, like he was really getting mad. “This is what my family
wanted
, why they ice-cubed me and stuck me in here. So I could have a better life than those sorry bastards out there. We’re lucky to be here. So what’s wrong with enjoying ourselves?”

Lilly slapped at her neck. “What about these, you idiot?”

“As far as I’m concerned? Just another bonus of the good life.”

“You’re just afraid,” said Lilly. “You just don’t want to worry.”

“Or,” Evan was nearly shouting now, “maybe instead of sitting around every night talking about everything that stinks, I’d just like to enjoy life for five minutes!” He shot into the sky and dove back into the water.

“Tell that to Anna, you ass,” Lilly muttered after him.

I thought about saying something to show that I agreed with her, that this was serious. And also that I thought Evan was wrong, but Evan was already fired up, and I didn’t need him overhearing me and turning his anger in my direction. I needed to get back to Lilly’s story. “Okay,” I said, “so, the dome is failing, and you think EdenCorp is doing . . . what?”

Lilly’s one hand began skinning the other again, fingers digging up white cuticle edges and tearing. “Well, what if they’re trying to create a new race?”

“A new race?”

“Or more like a new species,” said Lilly. “Look, you know about evolution and survival of the fittest and all that? They probably teach you that stuff out at Hub.”

“Yeah.”

“And how, like, it’s genetic mutations that make animals adapt to survive.”

“Sure,” I said, “but it takes millions of years.”

“Right,” said Lilly. The furrow had left her brow now, her eyes lighting up with excitement at this topic. “But,” Lilly continued, “sometimes, when conditions get dire, mutations happen faster. It’s called . . . oh, right: selective pressure. But even that’s too slow for right now. So I think Eden is forcing it: trying to create a human species that can survive out there when the domes fail.”

I pictured the landscape outside the dome. “How are gills going to help us in the desert?”

“Not right outside,” said Lilly, “and not up north either. The HZ is already full, and the border area is a mess. Plus”—she waved her hand toward the city—“none of those people up there are going to want a bunch of spoiled rich folks who spent the last fifty years living the good life in here showing up on their doorstep. There’s a lot of resentment, isn’t there?”

“Kinda, yeah,” I said.

“And probably even more for the Cryo kids whose mommies and daddies could afford to reserve them slots.” It sounded like this concept bothered her, even though she was one of them.

“It’s about the same.”

“Okay, well, anyway,” said Lilly, “Eden’s got to figure out where else we can all go where we can actually survive. Maybe the only way to do that is to change ourselves. What if humans could live in the New Everglades down in Virginia? Water blocks a lot of the harmful solar radiation.”

“The mosquito strains down there are lethal,” I said.

“So, maybe they’ll try to have us grow fur or something. I mean, who knows? Gills are probably only the start.”

A weird thought crossed my mind.
This is only the beginning.
Who had said that? Lilly, but also that vision I’d had underwater. That siren thing. That had been a few days ago now. She’d probably just been a dream, or a hallucination while I was drowning.

“So,” I asked, “how do you think Eden is doing this?”

“I don’t know,” said Lilly.

“It’s definitely the bug juice,” said Marco. He and Aliah were pulling themselves back up onto the raft.

“Uh-oh,” Aliah huffed. “Are you talking theories again?”

“Yes, and who cares
how
?” said Lilly.

“I do,” Marco said proudly. “I haven’t had a sip of bug juice yet this session.”

“The point is,” said Lilly, “Eden needs to experiment on someone. Who better to do their tests on than a bunch of clueless camp kids, especially Cryos who have no parents to complain to?”

“That doesn’t explain Owen,” said Marco.

“It doesn’t explain a
lot
of things,” added Aliah.

“Well then, please speak up with all your better ideas,” said Lilly. She turned back to me with a look like,
What do you think?

“It makes sense,” I said right away. I wasn’t really sure that it did, but I wanted to agree with her, and there definitely had to be something going on to cause the gills. But that also meant that our secret club was actually a collection of lab rats.

“Woo!” Evan burst out of the water back by the dock, spiking high into the air and doing two somersaults before landing.

Lilly rolled her eyes and shouted to him. “You’re like a trained seal!”

“Arf!” Evan called back.

“Can we
pleeease
stop talking about all this heavy stuff for tonight?” Aliah asked.

Lilly sighed. “Fine.” She looked at me. “Tandem?”

“What?” I said.

She stood up and offered her hand. “Tandem jump, dummy.”

“Oh, sure.” I got up and moved to the center of the raft, trying to have good balance, to seem sturdy, but then I stumbled. Lilly grabbed my shoulder and held me up.

“All right, let’s do this. On three,” she said, starting to bounce.

The worries of our conversation melted away. As we bounced higher, I stopped thinking about whether we were test subjects, whether this place really was some kind of giant, deadly lab. Those questions could wait. For tonight, I just wanted to ignore them, and instead focus on air, and height, and who was beside me.

“One!” Somehow, over the course of two nights, I had become Lilly’s tandem partner, her confidant of secret theories.

“Two!” No longer the earthbound, cramp-twisted cabin turtle. No longer the quiet kid in outer orbit, who was never quite part of the group.

“Three!” We arced high over the water, and as we did, I realized that I was also no longer the forgettable, unnoticed one, because I saw that, far over on the dock, Evan stood with his arms crossed, watching us closely.

AT BREAKFAST THE NEXT MORNING, I WAS REALLY
feeling it. Tired. Sluggish. These nights with only three hours of sleep were really starting to catch up to me. And yet, despite the way my eyes felt brittle and dry, my brain fuzzy, and how I could barely taste my pancakes, it was something like amazing to be sitting there while my cabin played their roles in the never-ending little drama of hurting one another and trying to look good for the Arctic Foxes, and to feel separate from it, above it, or maybe beneath, the sea creature watching the hapless surface swimmers with their flailing and splashing.

Things were a little more tame this morning, though, because Leech hadn’t shown up yet. He’d been gone again when I got back to the cabin at dawn. By the time flagpole was over, his minions were wondering where he was and looking lost.

When the bug juice came around to me, I thought of Marco and his theory, and passed along today’s neon-green variety without taking any.

While the cabin headed down to Craft House, I walked over to the infirmary. After last night’s conversation, I felt a little paranoid going in there, a fish swimming too close to the net. But I also had to do this, had to keep playing my role as normal Owen, so I didn’t arouse any suspicion.

The waiting area was empty, all the doors closed. I was almost across the room when I heard a raised voice from Paul’s office. He sounded angry. I moved closer to his door, leaned my ear against the frosted glass, and listened.

“I know the readings, I saw the report! Don’t worry, we’re covering that.”

A voice replied, monotone and tinny, like it was coming over a connection, but it was too low for me to hear.

“That’s . . . Yes, we’re still on schedule. Everything—Of course, but these things have to be handled a certain w—”

The monotone voice seemed to have cut Paul off. I wondered if it might be his boss. I hadn’t thought of him as having one.

“No . . . yes, I’ll get it done.”

The voice replied.

“Okay, then.”

There was a final syllable from the monotone voice, then a short silence. Something smashed against the wall. An object thrown. There was a sound of shards raining down to the floor. Now footsteps, coming toward me.

I turned and hurried toward the infirmary, slipping through the door and closing it behind me. I listened, heard Paul’s door open, more footsteps, but then the front door slapping open and closed.

I walked up the hall, trying to relax, and wondering: What report had Paul been referring to? And who had the authority to make him furious like that?

There was a young boy in the first exam room I passed, a brace on his wrist. That seemed to be all that was wrong with him. No vomit, no blood. The rest of the rooms were empty. I had just reached the end of the hall when I heard muted electronic sounds, like beeps, followed by a series of clicks, like sliding metal. The red door began to swing slowly inward, a green light gleaming on its keypad.

“Hey, Owen.” Dr. Maria came out. “I saw you on the security cameras.” She walked swiftly, like she was in a hurry, the door swinging shut on its own behind her. I glanced up at the ceiling corners, but didn’t see any cameras. And I didn’t remember seeing any around camp, either. But, given the butterflies, I realized Eden could have cameras hidden anywhere, everywhere.

“I’m glad you came,” she said to me. “Let’s go in here.” She motioned me into a room, but I was trying to get a look behind her. The hall beyond the red door gleamed in sharp light, like the walls were metal, and yet cloudy, maybe draped with plastic. I caught a glimpse of electronic screens and banks of blinking machinery, but then the door was clicking closed, accompanied by a hissing, like it was sealing tight. It reminded me of the Eye, the high-tech behind the scenes, but why would they need that kind of equipment down here?

“Okay.” I walked in and sat on the edge of the bed. The EdenNet was on. Teresa Alamos was reporting about a new violent uprising in the Amazon Archipelago.

“So,” said Dr. Maria, “how are you?” I saw her glance at my neck as she moved to the counter. She put down a set of video sheets she was holding. They each showed a similar striped design. They looked almost like X-rays, but maybe weren’t, since the shapes on them looked more like lines of dots.

“I’m fine,” I said, fighting to hold back a yawn. “Hey,” I thought to say, “I heard Paul out there. He sounded pretty mad.”

Dr. Maria glanced toward the door. “Oh, well, I think he had a chat link scheduled with the board of directors this morning. Those never put him in a good mood.”

“Ah.” So that was Paul’s boss. “Bad news, or something?”

I hoped that might get Dr. Maria to reveal more, but she just said, “I guess,” and turned around with an instrument that had a claw at the end. She held it near my arm and when she pressed a trigger, the claw wrapped around my biceps. Its sides ballooned and it began to squeeze, cutting off circulation. She pressed another button and it deflated slowly. I could feel my blood slipping, then pulsing back through.

“Blood pressure’s normal,” she announced, and traded the claw for a little exam light. She stepped to my side and gently pushed my chin up with her fingers to get a good look at my neck. “I still can’t believe how fast those wounds healed,” she said. “Any strange symptoms?”

“Nope,” I said, hoping the smear of NoRad I’d coated my gills with would be enough. Dr. Maria took a quick look and let go of my chin, so quick that I worried,
She doesn’t need to look because she already knows
.

“Let me take a quick peek in your mouth and ears,” she said, and pointed the light into each spot. When she was finished, she stepped over to the counter and tapped the computer pad there. “Well, Owen, you seem to be the picture of health.”

She looked at me and smiled. Something about her smile seemed real, and like last time, I got that feeling like she cared, and it made last night’s talk of lab experiments seem silly. She couldn’t really be part of some plot to change us all into sea creatures, could she?

“So, is that it?” I asked.

“Um.” Dr. Maria was back at the table, scrolling on the pad. It seemed like she was reading something. “Actually, just let me get another quick blood sample before you go.”

She picked up the syringe gun. I held out my arm and felt the pinprick, followed by the dark, thick fluid jumping into the vial. It was the usual red, not green or purple or any other mutated-creature color.

Still it felt weird, watching my blood leave, my secrets exposed. It couldn’t lie like I could, couldn’t hide what it was with NoRad lotion. I noticed the yellow-and-white label stuck to the vial. There was a code there: YH4-32.1. I wondered if the
YH
stood for
Yellowstone Hub
. “What do you need the blood for?” I asked.

“Well, you had those wounds,” said Dr. Maria, “and there can be bacteria on the lake floor. I just want to make sure you’re in the clear.” She pulled the needle out.

I thought about that answer, and I found that I didn’t totally buy it. It seemed vague. So I asked the other question that had been on my mind: “How is Colleen?”

Dr. Maria had moved back to the counter. She pulled a square machine over and slid the vial of my blood into the top. There was a whirring sound. I wondered if she’d heard me, but then she said, “Oh, she’s doing okay. I heard her prognosis is improving.”

I thought I heard a shudder in her voice, and she blinked a few times in a row as she tapped at the screen. I watched her face carefully. Were there tears? It would make sense if the event had bothered her. She’d looked pretty shaken up yesterday. She might even feel guilty, since Paul had said it was allergies and it was probably her job to be aware of that kind of thing. Or she might be feeling guilty because whatever had happened to Colleen also had to do with me and the CITs. But I didn’t actually see any tears form. I tried to think of something else to ask, but couldn’t.

The EdenNet bled into our silence, Aaron reporting:

Thanks, Teresa. We’re feeling the effects of some increased solar flare activity today. Rad levels have elevated externally, but the good news is that those OzoneSim panels that RadDefense added have actually raised our current DI reading to 87.5-percent integrity. That said, don’t forget your NoRad lotion during midday today.

“You can go,” said Dr. Maria absently. The blood machine had stopped spinning. She was looking at the computer.

“Okay.” I left, feeling like I was no closer to knowing if I was Dr. Maria’s lab rat or not. I felt a fresh wave of exhaustion, and wondered if some of it was from this game of keeping secrets. I’d never had much experience with it.

I headed around the dining hall and down the hill. I reached the flagpole and was starting down the trail toward Craft House when I saw my cabin standing in a ring with a bunch of Spider Monkey boys out on the courts. I walked over. As I got close, I heard the whimpering voice.

I reached the edge of the group and saw that Todd was kneeling beside another counselor, I think his name was Blake. One of the Spider Monkeys was leaning back against him, his eyes mostly closed, a little moan escaping his lips.

“I think those are Rad burns,” Todd was saying.

Blake was red-faced, his voice panicky. “But . . . it’s only ten a.m. I thought we’d be fine. I didn’t check their NoRad application, I—”

“You should get him up to the infirmary,” said Todd.

Blake pulled the boy to his feet. His face was puffy and covered with yellowish bumps, some of which had burst, letting a pinkish fluid drip free. I’d seen it before: classic early-stage Rad poisoning. I glanced up at the sky, almost expecting to see burned dome panels falling toward us, the inner skin melting off, but there was just idyllic hazy SafeSun and powdery TruSky.

“I thought it was just heat stroke,” Blake mumbled to himself as he led his cabin up the hill.

“Come on, guys,” said Todd. He glanced warily upward. “The ropes course is in the woods, so we’ll be fine. Everybody hit the NoRad this morning, right?”

“Yes,” everyone answered, more obediently than usual.

We crossed the fields and walked through the woods past our cabin, then down to a narrow trail that led along the edge of the lake. I couldn’t stop thinking about those burns, about how the EdenNet had said the DI was high, but then how Lilly had heard that those reports were a lie. Paul’s angry conversation with the board of directors, too: I wondered if that report he’d been mad about had been related to the DI.

My thoughts started to fuzz out into a half-asleep daze. A voice broke me out of it.

“That was scary, huh?”

I looked over to find Beaker beside me. He was swinging his arms far up and back as he walked. “I mean, Rad burns are serious,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said groggily. “They’re cumulative, though, so, I mean, that kid probably forgot to wear his protection all session. Except—”

I was about to say more when I caught a flash from the water. We were rounding a little inlet where the surface of the water was shaded, and I could have sworn I saw that turquoise-blue light again, the light of the siren I thought I’d seen when I drowned. But now I just saw the green-tinted rocks and plants.

“Except what?” Beaker asked.

I blinked. It must have been the lack of sleep. I started walking again. “Oh, well, just, it makes you wonder if the DI is actually lower than they’re saying—”

Find me, Owen.

The voice erased my thoughts. I stopped again and stepped over to the edge of the water.

There it was. Hovering beneath the surface, so faint because of the daylight but definitely there . . . the siren. I remembered it looking kind of like a figure, and it definitely did now. The ripples on the water blurred it, but I thought I could see a face and long hair.

“Owen?” Beaker asked, it seemed like from far away.

Find me.

Yes. I would. I had to fight the urge to jump in right now. My gills twitched at the thought.

In the temple beneath—

A hand slammed into my back and I fell forward, spinning my arms and crashing into the water. I plunged beneath the surface. My gills tingled, wondering if they should wake, but no, not now. Still, I glanced around . . . but the siren was nowhere. Like the spell had been broken.

My feet found the bottom, sneakers filling with mud, and I stood. The water was up to my thighs. I spun around to face the shore, and there was Leech. I hadn’t even noticed him rejoining our group. He had his black fishing pole case over his shoulder, like he was just returning from another one of his special mornings with Paul, except Paul had been in his office. Was Leech so special that he could just go off on his own if he wanted? Noah and Jalen stood beside him, laughing. Leech glared at me, and before I could even say anything, he said, “Stop spreading rumors.”

“What?” I said to him, and I maybe meant it to come out annoyed, but it just sounded confused.

“You’ll scare the mice,” he added, nodding his chin toward the water beside me. I realized that Beaker was there, staggering to his feet, soaked as well.

Leech made his smirking face, and all I wanted was to lunge and grab him, drag him down into my lair, rub his face into the mud, but I remembered that instead I had to play the part of the soaked, slow turtle. Still, I had to at least say something back, something to let him know that I was not going to be pushed around like this, except what came out was, “Shut up, I can say what I want.” I couldn’t believe how pathetic I sounded.

But it had an effect, because Leech’s grin turned into a scowl. “Actually, no, you can’t. You’re just a stupid wastelander and I don’t care what you
think
you are, you have no idea what’s really going on in here, so don’t pretend you do.” By the time he finished, his scowl had twisted into a vicious glare. What was he talking about? What did I
think
I was? What didn’t I know about what was really going on?