The Search for Artemis (The Chronicles of Landon Wicker) (44 page)

Peregrine nodded in acknowledgement before spinning around and guiding the team through the labyrinthine hallways toward the exit. Landon quick-stepped a few times to catch up to Cortland—his closest friend on the Pantheon—at the back of the pack.

“How could Pollux do that?” Landon asked Cortland while narrowly avoiding tripping over the unconscious body of one of Nitranos’ security force.

“Twins,” he replied nonchalantly. “Their abilities work differently for them.”

The strange glances
, Landon thought as he kept pace with the team.
That’s why the Cranes are always giving each other weird looks. They’re communicating, and we just can’t hear it.

The trip to the
Alpha Chariot
, which they had stationed about a mile away from the compound, was easy. The team had neutralized Nitranos’ security on their way to the vault, and they managed to be clear of the building moments before the reinforcements arrived. There was a slight scare, however, as Jeremiah fell over unexpectedly just before reaching cover inside the forest. It was as if his right leg was pulled out from under him, like he’d snagged his foot on an invisible tripwire.

Landon’s legs jittered up and down as he anxiously sat in his chair on the team’s aircraft and waited for the return of the two teammates he felt responsible for stranding; nevertheless, he couldn’t help but stare at the atomizer securely gripped in Brock’s right hand. It was such a small device, about the size of a baseball, yet with the right substance fueling it, it could disperse any substance into the surrounding air. Landon easily saw how it could be turned into a deadly weapon. What was the Pallas Corporation intending to do with it?

Celia believed they were planning to sell it on the black market to a terrorist organization or a cell of religious extremists to continue funding Pallas’ criminal operation, but Landon knew in his gut it wasn’t that simple. The Pantheon had been run ragged in the past month with mission after mission; like the Metis Labs operation, they claimed this one was spur of the moment and, according to Dr. Wells, vital.

Brock placed the device into a holding container beside the cockpit for safekeeping. Once the door of the container closed, the world around Landon faded away—the commotion of his teammates as they secured themselves in their seats, the sound of the engines as they warmed up for take-off, the discussions of the mission, and speculation regarding when Atalanta and Castor would arrive—it all blurred out of existence, leaving only Landon and a secret mission that became more and more impossible to complete with every passing moment. There must be a way he could still appease Celia by keeping the device away from the Pallas Corporation. Landon had to figure out a way to succeed at his countermeasure and redeem himself for Celia.

“Well, that could’ve gone better, don’t you think?” Cortland collapsed into his seat in front of Landon and propped his feet up on a groove in the wall of the aircraft cabin. “I mean, with all the security we had to take out, tripping the alarms in the vault, and Castor and Atalanta getting trapped, we’re kind of lucky we made it out of there this time, right?”

Cortland turned his head slightly to look at Landon over his shoulder. Landon didn’t respond. He heard what Cortland was saying, but the words didn’t register in his brain. He was lost in his own mind, staring at the box, searching for a solution to his problem.

“Apollo,” Cortland said with enough force to pull Landon from his thoughts, “you all right?”

Landon did his best to put aside his current issue and pay attention to Cortland. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied unconvincingly. “I was just thinking about Atalanta and Castor. Do you think they’re going to make it back?” Concern for his teammates’ safe return served as the perfect cover for what he was really worried about—there was truth to it.

“Don’t worry about them. They’re pretty capable, and I can’t imagine Parker going down without a fight. In fact . . .” Cortland turned away from Landon with a pensive look on his face. “Echo,” he said loud enough to get her attention, “can we get a twenty on our two missing compadres?”

Without hesitation, Peregrine turned her head up, thin vestiges of light glimmering off her short, platinum blonde hair. Her sightless violet eyes looked beyond what stood in front of her, as she focused on what she sensed in the far reaches of her tactometric sphere.

“They’re close,” Peregrine answered. “But the guards aren’t far behind them. It looks like Castor’s been hurt, which is slowing them down.”

“Ares,” Cortland called up to Brock, “we need to be ready to take off the second Castor and Atalanta get here. Echo says they’re being followed, and I don’t think we still want to be here when the guards break through the tree line.”

Brock disengaged his harness with purpose and stood up to address the team. There wasn’t an ounce of panic on his face, just a hard look of determination. Landon was impressed by his ability to remain strong under pressure.

“Pollux and Hector, get out there and stand guard. We need to protect our own, and they may need the help when they get here. Echo, keep your eyes on Castor and Atalanta, tell us if they get in any more trouble. I’ll be at the controls so we can take off right when they get here.” Brock turned back toward the cockpit to complete his preflight procedure, but he stopped abruptly and turned, realizing he’d forgotten someone. “And Apollo, you just stay where you are,” he added snidely as he looked at Landon with laser focus. “We don’t need you getting in the way.”

Landon’s jaw dropped and he stared at Brock with an expression of shock and infuriation.
Get in the way?
What’s that supposed to mean?
he thought. His blood surged through his body as his blood pressure spiked.
Get in the way?
Landon ground his teeth and clutched the front of his armrest to restrain himself.
After everything I’ve done, he still doesn’t think I belong here?

If it weren’t for Cortland giving Landon an encouraging slap on the shoulder, Landon may have lost control and lashed out, but instead, he took a slow and steady breath and attempted to calm down.
What else do I have to do to prove myself?
he wondered. It was moments like this that made Landon remember why he disliked Brock.

Landon caught a final glimpse of Cortland and Jeremiah as they headed down the ramp at the back of the
Alpha Chariot
. Peregrine looked to be in a meditative state; her eyes were closed as she breathed steadily, obviously keeping an “eye” on the missing Pantheon members. Brock continued to fiddle with the console in the cockpit.

Torn between obeying orders and doing all he could to help the teammates he was responsible for trapping return safely, Landon found himself glancing down the ramp every few seconds to see if anything appeared amiss. Unfortunately, nothing could be seen but the morning sunlight as it shone on the steely ramp, and the vibrantly lit patch of grass at the bottom. The silence in which he resided was palpable, the anticipation torturous, and Landon just wanted them to get out of there.

Then Peregrine called down to Cortland and Jeremiah. “They’re coming through,” she yelled to alert them.

The faint sounds of rustling leaves and shifting branches could be heard from where Landon sat. Cortland was saying something, but Landon couldn’t make it out. It took every ounce of his willpower to stay put. Then the gunfire started.

Landon envisioned the security officers breaking through the tree line, viciously attacking his teammates, and doing their best to stop the Pantheon’s departure by any means necessary. Bullets pinged and ricocheted off the sides of the
Alpha Chariot
, sounding like pebbles in a tin can as the noise echoed through the cabin.

Once Landon heard the first yell, he couldn’t accept being a bystander any longer. He disengaged his harness and rushed out of his seat, scurrying down the ramp with as much speed as he could muster. The light of the morning sun blinded him momentarily, but once his eyes adjusted he saw Parker and Joshua approaching the aircraft. Joshua was injured; he limped badly, unable to put much weight on his left leg, and Parker was supporting him, shouldering his weight and determinedly dragging him along to the
Alpha Chariot
as quickly as possible.

Twenty security guards inched into the clearing from the tree line with guns raised; additional forces emerging from the forest behind them swelled their ranks by the second. Cortland and Jeremiah worked desperately to inhibit them, employing their telekinetic abilities to lift and toss the guards back into the trees.

Instinctively, Landon rushed toward Parker and Joshua to help them onto the tilt-rotor transport. It would all be over if they were on board. When he reached them, he found a security guard dangerously close to them with his gun pointed directly at Joshua’s back. With the flick of Landon’s wrist, the man flew backward as if a wrecking ball had hit him. For a moment, Landon wondered how he’d launched the man so far—he’d only tried to stop him, throw him off of his feet, but the security guard flew back at a breakneck speed and disappeared behind the thick brush with a violent thud.

Landon went to Joshua’s right side and helped support him by pulling Joshua’s arm over his shoulders and gripping him on the side with his other arm. They rushed toward the ramp, but Joshua’s injury definitely slowed them down.

Ten yards from the ramp, a sharp, debilitating pain exploded in his lower back.
I’ve been shot!
he realized in disbelief as the searing pain caused him to collapse, which in turn pulled Joshua and Parker to the ground. Parker stood up quickly, grabbed Joshua and continued towards the aircraft, but Landon lay on the ground unable to move or catch his breath.

Time moved at a snail’s pace, creeping along second by second yet feeling like hours. The pain was unlike anything he’d ever felt. It was like someone had hit him full-force in the soft part of his back with a sledgehammer. Even with the pain, Landon heard Brock’s voice in his head saying, “You’ll get in the way.” Landon had disobeyed a direct order from his commanding officer by helping Parker and Joshua get to the transport, and now he was the one needing help. He tried to crawl toward the ramp, biting his lower lip as he fought through the pain, but his movement was labored and slow. At this pace, it was going to take him forever to reach the
Alpha Chariot
.

Landon inched closer and closer to the large grey mass in front of him. The tears dredged up by pain blurred his vision. He couldn’t see Cortland or Jeremiah to call for help, but he knew they were preoccupied. The sounds of gunfire and the yells of surprise as security guards were telekinetically eliminated by Cortland and Jeremiah could still be heard all round him. Landon had to get back to the aircraft on his own, but then he felt someone grab him by the arm and side and hoist him to his feet.

Before he realized it, he was up the ramp and released into his seat. The pain that surged through his body when his back made contact with his chair was almost as difficult to endure as his original injury, but he choked back the pain, wiped the water from his eyes and looked up to see who had rescued him. Brock looked down at him with a disgusted expression on his face before he quickly turned and made a beeline for the cockpit. Had Brock really saved him? How had he known Landon needed help?

Landon then heard Cortland and Jeremiah rush up the ramp and push the button to close the door. The sound of bullets against the hull reverberated through the hollow cabin.

“Door secured! Get us out of here Ares!” Cortland yelled up to Brock as he returned to his seat and engaged his harness.

The nauseating sensation of takeoff briefly stole Landon’s attention away from the pain in his back. It gave him a moment to realize how much damage his attempt to sabotage the mission had caused: Cortland was coming down from the adrenaline rush of fighting off the security guards; Parker looked to be in a state of exhaustion after lugging Joshua from the building; and Peregrine sat back in her seat, trying to keep out of the way.
Why didn’t I take her approach and just stay where I was supposed to?
Jeremiah, however, was not strapped into his seat, instead attempting to stabilize his brother’s leg. Joshua grimaced terribly the whole time.

Watching Jeremiah help his brother looked somewhat strange to Landon. The Crane twins were so identical that they were more like clones than twins, and seeing one help the other was like watching someone playing doctor with his reflection, especially when they were wearing their identical tactical uniforms. Everything about them was the same. They had the same speech patterns, the same mannerisms, and the same incorrigible personalities. Although short, they were the same height. They had the same pale skin. Their eyes were the same bright blue. Even their sandy brown hair was identical; it was buzzed to the same length.

When the metallic pings of bullets against the hull diminished, Landon imagined they were finally free of Nitranos Industries and safely on their way home to the Gymnasium. He took a deep breath. The pressure the harness put on Landon’s torso alleviated the sting in his lower back, allowing his thoughts to clear the fog of pain. For a moment he felt a bit of relaxation, but then he remembered: He still hadn’t figured out a way to destroy the atomizer, and it rested safely inside the cargo container near the cockpit.