The Octopus Effect (26 page)

Aleadra knelt stiffly and awkwardly hugged her; Sirabetta flinched at first but soon accepted the embrace. “Step-by-step, you can do what's necessary to fix this foolish system. And perhaps, along the way, you'll find the satisfaction you seek, too.”

Sirabetta rose to her feet. She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Maybe you're right.” She frowned at Aleadra. “What other choice do I have?”

Aleadra shrugged. “Keep your sights on the Book. ”

“Well, then,” Sirabetta said, “there's only one thing to do. I'll need to get some new tattoos. Ones that work. Ones that will let me topple those jerks—” She caught herself and frowned. “Those
wretches
in power.”

She helped the exhausted Aleadra stand. “Someone's coming,” Sirabetta said.

Krissantha appeared at the entrance to the cramped chamber. Her eyes widened at the sight of Sirabetta's still-youthful form. “Forgive my interruption, Sir.” She turned to Aleadra. “Madam.” At a nod from Sirabetta, she continued. “I have important news.”

Sirabetta spoke with the commanding tone of her old self; gone was any sense of sorrow or insecurity. “The children are in the jungle and closing in on our position.”

Krissantha's mouth dropped open. “How—?” She caught herself. “Yes, Sir.”

“We've done all we can here,” Sirabetta said. “Krissantha, you and Preto will accompany Aleadra and me on a new mission. I want a force to stay behind to take care of these nuisances. Include that new guy, the one with the exoskeleton.”

Krissantha's mouth again gaped; nobody had told Sirabetta about the new recruit yet. “Yes, Sir. What are your orders?”

Sirabetta absently rubbed her exposed arms as she considered what she wanted. She'd tried showing them mercy before, and she'd suffered for it. She glanced down at her arms, then her palms. Those children did
this
to her! They were as guilty as the Council of Sciences and the other Union members who'd imprisoned her and left her to rot. Who'd made the Union intolerable for those who didn't conform to their rules. These
children
had caused her plenty of pain and suffering; they deserved the same.

“My orders are to defeat the children and any with them. Do whatever it takes to keep them from coming after us. Except—make sure Simon Bloom is brought to me alive. Bloom and all his possessions.
All
of them, untouched. Understood?”

Krissantha nodded.

“Good. Wanderby will stay behind and command those who remain. He knows who Bloom is, and he can inform the others.”

“Yes, Sir,” Krissantha said, and she left to pass on the word.

“Are you sure that's the best plan?” Aleadra asked. “You're willing to risk them taking the Book for themselves?”

Sirabetta shook her head. “The Book won't open for them without this.” She held up her palm with the multicolored tattoo on it. “And they don't know how to get it. But until I get this fixed, the Book won't open for me either.” She stared at her palm and rubbed at the colors there. “Without my tattoos, I'm useless in this type of fight. Our troops would notice, and that would lessen my hold on them.” She clenched her fists. “No, better to get my powers restored first. That way, I'll be ready for anything and everything.”

Even being thirteen and powerless, Sirabetta brimmed with confidence and menace. “Now let's go. Soon enough, it will be a different universe. Mine.”

As Sirabetta and her closest allies began their preparations for leaving and Simon and his group labored through the jungle, my Viewing Screen changed.

An image of the front of Julius Henry Marx Junior High—Simon's school—appeared. Classes were in session, and aside from the duck-shaped weather vane atop the school making a squeaky revolution from time to time, things were quiet. The front door opened and Miss Fanstrom emerged, briefcase in hand. She leaned against one side of the large concrete archway of the school's main entrance, took out her notebook computer, and opened it. To my frustration, I could neither see the screen nor tell what she was thinking.

The top of her hair swiveled so that the tip was pointed at the angle from which I watched, miles away. The top of her hair was somehow aimed right between my eyes.

Miss Fanstrom glanced up and met my gaze through my Screen. “Of course you can't tell what I'm thinking, Mr. Geryson. Who's the Keeper of whom, after all?”

I gasped. She'd read my mind!

“Mr. Geryson, you read your Chronicle-subjects' minds all the time. You'd be a rather poor sport to whinge about having it done to you, especially by your Keeper.”

I was too flustered to respond. I found myself wondering how much she knew about me and my Chronicle.

“Quite a bit,” she said. “Now, if you'd like to keep your private thoughts private, perhaps you should speak aloud rather than think to yourself all the time.”

That
did
seem to make sense. “I mean, that makes sense,” I said aloud. “But Miss Fanstrom . . . what are you doing?”

“Monitoring your Chronicle along with you.” She tapped the computer.

I was flabbergasted. Surely there were numerous Narrators at work across the world, yet she was focused on me?

“Tut tut, Mr. Geryson.” She sighed. “I can follow many Chronicles at the same time. But with the exception of some shenanigans the Math League is up to again, no subjects of other Chronicles are holding the safety of the universe in their hands.”

“Pardon? You're saying that Simon and his friends . . . ?”

“Yes. Their mission will decide the fate of all things. Are you surprised? You've made references to that several times; were you just being colorful?”

“Er, no,” I stammered. “I'm just not used to this sort of conversation. Talking with someone who knows more than I do.”

Miss Fanstrom chuckled. “Ah, that's part of being in the Knowledge Union. No matter how much you know, there's always someone who knows more.”

I shuddered. “What happens now?”

Miss Fanstrom checked her watch. “Now—ah! Here they are.” She was looking at the street in front of the school, where an ordinary unmarked white van pulled up to the curb. A man and a woman, both wearing denim overalls and baseball caps with GUILD stitched across the front, got out.

I recognized them from my last Chronicle—they'd installed a teleportation device in Miss Fanstrom's office when she became principal of Simon's elementary school.

“Thank you for coming,” Miss Fanstrom said to the Guild members. “I have much work for you, more than the standard setup package.”

The woman took a large toolbox out of the van while the man took out a red and white cooler, the kind often used to hold beverages. The various gauges and switches on the cooler and the unusual tools in the toolbox made it clear these were not ordinary items.

“Excuse me,” I said, “what exactly are they going to do?”

Miss Fanstrom crooked a finger to the Guild members, who followed her into the school. “Mr. Geryson, they are going to do what the Craftsmen's Guild does best: prepare me for whatever may come. You keep your eyes on your Screen, I'll keep mine on mine, and hopefully that's all we'll need to do.”

“What else might we have to do?”

Miss Fanstrom showed a mysterious half-smile and a shrug. “I can tell you this: I fear we may be earning hazard pay in the near future.”

Hazard pay? But I don't get
any
pay!

“A minor quibble, Mr. Geryson,” Miss Fanstrom said. “We'll worry about that later, if there is a later.” A beep from her notebook computer distracted her. “For now, we both have work to do. And friends to worry about.”

And with that, my Viewing Screen changed its focus: the Chronicle was to go on.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Flangelo quietly asked for the third time.

“He's sure!” Owen and Alysha hissed at the same time.

“Just getting tired of stomping through all this mush,” Flangelo chirped.

“It's not far now,” Simon whispered. “Wait, something's changing. She's moving.” He concentrated. “She's slowly headed that way now,” he said.

“Slowly?” Alysha said. “If she's not flying, maybe her tattoos aren't working.”

“But
we
can fly after her,” Flangelo said. “I'll go as a bird; I'm tired of Owen's sweaty hand.” He yanked his hand away from Owen's and wiped it on his pants. “It's like holding an eel!”

Flangelo paused and stared down at his hands and body, which were rapidly becoming visible. “Wait, how come I'm starting to see myself? Oh, I'm going to regret that, aren't I?”

And that's when the jungle sprang at him.

A vine lashed out from the nearest tree and wrapped around Flangelo. It yanked him off the ground, wound him up like a yo-yo, and flung him back to the floor.

It happened so fast that the kids barely had time to avoid his hurtling body. He squished to a landing in the muck beyond them, while the act of dodging forced the kids to let go of one anothers' hands. Alysha and Simon's chromatophores disintegrated, leaving them fully visible, too.

“Surrender!” a familiar voice bellowed.

Simon, Alysha, and Owen turned at the sound of a voice that used to holler at them through seemingly endless gym classes. “Mr. Wanderby!” they shouted.

“Stay camouflaged, Owen!” Alysha shouted. She looked down at the moist rain forest floor. “And watch out for your footprints!”

Owen used velocity to launch into the air and slowly circle above his friends.

“Forget him,” Wanderby yelled. “You, lad,” he said, pointing at Simon. “You have something I want, and I want it now!”

Alysha burst out laughing. “Do you ever get tired of sounding like such a jerk?”

“You watch how you talk to me, lass!”

“You're not our teacher anymore!” Owen shouted, his voice floating down from the seemingly empty air. “And we never liked you then, either!”

“Spread out and prepare for battle,” Wanderby said over his shoulder, in the commanding tone of a military leader.

Simon gulped; stepping out from the foliage were eight Biology members he didn't recognize plus Kender, already encased in his exoskeletal armor.

Grawley, still dressed in all brown, cracked his knuckles. His body shimmered, shook, and grew until he'd shifted to his massive, eight-foot-tall grizzly bear form. Then he let out a roar that shook the branches around him.

Simon felt that roar deep inside his stomach, and his face went pale.
Oh, no, here we go again!
He looked from Grawley to the other enemy Bio members.
What did I get us into?

“Simon?” Alysha said, her face scrunched up with worry. “Come on, focus. We need you if we're going to get through this.”

Wanderby laughed. “That's the point, lass—you won't.” He turned to the Bio member who'd been with Grawley earlier. “Kushwindro, bind them!”

Kushwindro nodded and gestured with his hands. Dozens of green, ropy vines dropped from the canopy above, lashing out through the area where the kids stood. He then spoke an unintelligible string of words, causing the dirt, leaves, and moss on the rain forest floor to reach up and encase Simon's and Alysha's legs. Before they could try to free their feet, their bodies were snared by the animate vines.

“Watch-out-he-can-control-the-jungle!” Owen shouted.

“No kidding,” Alysha groaned. “Don't give away your position!”

“He doesn't have to, little lady,” Kushwindro said with a chuckle. “This is
my
rain forest; I'm all-powerful here.” He gestured, causing more vines to swing through the air between the canopy and the jungle floor.

One of them grazed Owen's unseen arm and suddenly several more flailed around that area. Within moments, Owen was entwined. He was still camouflaged, though—the vines appeared to be holding onto part of the jungle itself.

“That was even easier than I'd expected,” Wanderby said. “Sir will be pleased.”

“Don't worry, kids, I'm coming!” Flangelo shouted as he rose from where he'd been thrown. Another vine wrapped around him, but Flangelo turned into a sparrow, leaving it holding empty air. He flapped hard, dodging other grasping vines.

“Okay, now I'm getting angry,” Alysha snarled. She generated a current of electricity through her body, killing the vines and burning away the rain forest muck that held her. “Simon, snap out of it!”