The Search for Artemis (The Chronicles of Landon Wicker) (9 page)

“Nothing, sir. We were, uh, going to lunch.”

Landon and Celia could hear the mumblings of an out-of-breath boy in the hallway replying to Dr. Wells’ question.

“Well, this is quite fortuitous then. Please come in and join us,” Dr. Wells said as he moved aside and ushered in a boy and girl, neither looking any older than Landon or Celia.  

The boy, who was panting heavily, was tall and gangly with pale skin and sandy blond hair that was buzzed close to his scalp. He had quite a short forehead and dark, perfectly-shaped eyebrows that looked almost as if they’d been waxed and trimmed. The girl, however, who stood slightly shorter than the guy, had voluminous, deep auburn hair that flowed down to her chest, framing her slender face and piercing green eyes. There was a sly, fox-like quality to her that intrigued Landon instantly.

“Landon, Celia, I’d like you to meet Riley and Parker. They’re students here, and they’ve
willingly
volunteered to show you around and introduce you to the place,” Dr. Wells explained.

As they filed into the orientation room one after the other, Landon noticed the girl shoot a menacing glare at the guy.

“But,” Riley retorted, not noticing the death stare coming from beside him. He received a particularly potent look from the doctor, which silenced his protestations. He dejectedly turned to look at Landon and Celia.

“Yes . . . Landon, you will go with Riley, and Parker, you’ll take Celia. Both Riley and Parker have been with us for just over two years so they know the place quite well. They’re the perfect people to escort you.”

Dr. Wells beckoned for Landon and Celia to move out to the aisle and join their appointed guides.

“And you two,” Dr. Wells continued toward Riley and Parker. “You will graciously take these students and orient them to their new surroundings. You may not leave their sides until you’ve shown them around the facility and taken them to their rooms. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.

“Good, now here are their weekly schedules. I would like you to run through them with our new students,” Dr. Wells said as he handed two crisp sheets of paper to Riley and Parker. He turned back to Landon and Celia and adopted a forced, welcoming smile. “It was very nice to meet you both. I hope you’re pleased with your new home and I think we can expect wonderful things from each of you. Remember—you are all that is holding you back from reaching your full potential.”

After what Landon discovered to be Dr. Wells’ trademark departing words, the doctor scurried across the room and exited through the back door. The four students now quietly stood in the orientation room, staring at each other, unsure who should speak first.

“So, Celia was it?” Riley started. He adopted a beguiling smirk. “I’m Riley.”

“I thought
she
was Riley? Isn’t that a girl’s name?” Celia mockingly returned.

Landon unintentionally let out a quick laugh that sounded more like a convulsive cough than anything. He knew that would never work on her
.

“No it’s not,” Riley said unconvincingly. “She’s
Alexandra
Parker, but everyone around here just calls her Parker,” Riley added, attempting to save face. “I’m Riley . . . Riley Burton.

“Don’t you dare say my name,” Parker barked as her head turned sharply toward Riley. “And you better give it back now . . . before I finish what I started in the hallway.”

Riley sighed and begrudgingly pulled a small item out from his back pocket and handed it to Parker. Landon wanted to see what it was but never got a good look at it.

“She isn’t playing around, huh?” Landon whispered to Celia.

“She doesn’t look much like a kidder,” Celia whispered back through her teeth. Landon cracked a smile. All this activity was stealing his mind away from his gloom and grief.

“Hey, I’m sorry, okay? It was just a bet, and you know I can’t pass up a challenge,” Riley half-heartedly apologized.

“Whatever,” Parker snidely returned. “Come with me, Celia. I’ll show you around.” And with that Celia and Parker exited the orientation room, leaving Riley and Landon standing beside one another.

“So,” Riley said, breaking the awkward silence.

“So,” Landon returned.

“Uh . . . you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“Awesome. Let’s go.”

LAY OF THE LAND

Riley led Landon out of the room and down the hall. As they turned the first corner, Landon was shocked to see wooden chairs knocked over and shards of broken glass scattered all over the hardwood floor.

While Landon tiptoed around to avoid the mess, he asked, “So what’s a guy got to steal to make a girl try and crush him with this much conviction?”

“Oh, that’s not important. It was a bet between some of the guys and me. They didn’t think I was good enough to nab something from Parker without using any of my abilities,” Riley explained. “Ugh, if Parker didn’t make so much noise I would have had it, too.”

Landon didn’t say anything. He realized Riley was in his own head, probably running through the entire event in his mind, and he didn’t want to interrupt. He just followed along as Riley led them down the hallway.

Riley took Landon to a narrow, enclosed staircase, and they then proceeded down to the bottom floor. Upon exiting the stairwell, Landon was awestruck by a vast atrium. He had seen it for a split second the day before when he first arrived at the Gymnasium, but the distance hadn’t done the place justice. It covered an immense circular area, and a giant glass dome encased the entire ceiling. Running down from the dome’s center, a conical mass of mirrors refracted the light from outside, bathing the Atrium in warm sunlight. Below the mirrors, a giant oak tree grew, basking in the radiance.

The Atrium served as the central hub for travel around the Gymnasium. Students flowed in and out of the area in pulsing waves. Landon noticed that the Atrium’s entryways were like the points on a compass. In each cardinal direction, there was a long, expansive hallway with walls stretching at least six stories high, floor-to-ceiling, and they were lined in Grecian pillars. These hallways led to the far edges of the facility, but hidden behind a wall at each primary inter-cardinal point of the Atrium, there was a small door that led into a staircase like the one they’d just come from. Landon and Riley had entered from the stairway on the southwest end, and unfazed by the brilliance of the Atrium, Riley sped them around the oak tree and hurriedly ushered Landon into the northeastern stairs on the direct opposite side.

They climbed three flights before exiting into a new hallway. Although not as huge as the ones jutting out from the Atrium, this hallway also had high ceilings and stone pillars lining the walls, spaced at regular intervals. In between the pillars, large clear glass sconces lit the walkway. Faint light flickered behind the glass.

“Are those gas lamps?” Landon asked. “Why would a place built in the twentieth century have gas lamps?”

“Yeah, none of us have been able to figure that one out yet. I think the people who built the place just have some creepy obsession with everything Greek, and they probably thought hallways lit by fire were more authentic than using light bulbs like normal people.” Riley answered without turning to look at Landon. He seemed to have a singular focus to get them to food.

As they approached the end of the hallway, Landon heard the drone of many voices coming from up ahead, and the intoxicating odor of warm food filled the air. When they turned the corner, they were standing before two large doors opened wide for all to enter. Landon saw at least fifty kids around his age moving about the tables, conversing, carrying trays of food, eating, and laughing.

To Landon’s right, people moved through two lines for food. The rest of the place was filled with four long wooden tables running perpendicular to the door with benches on either side. It was a massive place and would sit quite a few people if the occasion demanded.

Landon followed close behind Riley as they moved to the back of the nearest food service line. They both progressed through the queue and filled their plates, piling them high with plentiful scoops of macaroni and cheese, meatloaf with gravy, green beans, pulled pork, roasted chicken, baked beans, pierogies, and mashed potatoes, finishing with a single warm yeast roll covered in honey butter. Salivating, Landon stared longingly at his plate as they proceeded to the tables. He hoped this meal might finally calm the beast rumbling in his abdomen and satiate his incessant hunger.

Riley walked purposefully over to the fourth long table—the one farthest from the door—and began to move down the aisle to a predetermined location to which Landon was not yet privy.

Talking over his shoulder while they walked to their seats, he began, “So, Landon, let me explain this place to you. Just like high school . . . You went to high school, right?”

“Yeah, I was supposed to be a sophomore this year.”

“You’re luckier than I was then. I debuted just before the eighth grade, so I didn’t have a clue when I got here. Anyways, this place is supposed to be just like high school. . . . There is an innate caste system based on popularity that you cannot get around. You’ve got your jocks, your geeks, your rebels and your outcasts, all at their appropriate rung on the social ladder. However, popularity is measured on a slightly different scale than a normal school. Here, the most powerful are the most popular.

“What they didn’t tell you in orientation, unless they changed it since I went through it, is that people aren’t good at everything when it comes to their powers. . . . And here, telekinesis is king. Unless you have some really insane ability no one else can do, everyone wants to be the person who can seriously lift. And the ones who can; they’re . . . your jocks. That would be them in the back corner.”

Riley motioned his head over to the far corner of the cafeteria. A small group of about six guys were gathered around a seventh towering, muscular one who stood with one foot resting on the bench. They were laughing loudly, and Landon could see they exuded that same confidence as the star lacrosse players from his high school. They knew no one could touch them, and they reveled in that power.

“The big guy with the short blond hair—the one who’s standing up and has everyone’s attention—that’s Brock Holbrooke. He’s eighteen and would be the equivalent to the quarterback for the football team. Right now, no one can go near him on lifting. I even saw him lift a whole car once.

“And that Spanish-looking guy sitting down—the one with the tan and shaggy dark hair who’s not really paying attention to Brock—is Cortland Cartwright. He’s from California, so he’s really chill. His abilities got him into the group, and he seems to get along with them okay, but for some reason I don’t think he feels like he completely belongs there.

“Those other two on either side of him that look like carbon copies of one another, though. They’re the Crane twins, Joshua and Jeremiah. They’re Brock’s two right hands. They can’t move as much as Brock,”—it wasn’t hard for Landon to hone in on the two identical-looking guys flanking Cortland. Compared to the two Riley had already introduced, the Cranes both looked rather out of place. Brock and Cortland were tall, buff and tan. The Cranes on the other hand were short, pale and bony—“but they’ve got some serious skill. They freak me out though, because they’re always looking really strangely at one another.”

As Riley educated Landon on the members of the facility’s elite, Landon’s staring caught the attention of Cortland, who turned away from his conversation and locked eyes with him. Landon watched as Cortland proceeded to signal his comrades, who all turned in unison to get a good look at the new member of the Gymnasium. When he realized he was still staring back at them, Landon jerked his head forward and focused on the back of Riley’s head as they continued down the aisle. He hoped to not draw any unwanted attention.

“ . . . and if I had managed to win that bet earlier, I would be sitting with those guys right now,” Riley continued. He stopped at an opening in the table and slid onto the bench, completely oblivious to Landon’s stare-down with the popular kids.

“Seriously, Riley?”

Landon turned to see who owned the loud, high-pitched voice that interrupted Riley’s monologue. She was a tiny girl, no older than twelve, with straight brown hair, almond-shaped eyes, and freckled skin.

“Yeah, I would be,” Riley replied confidently.

“No matter what you do, you are never going to be allowed to sit with them. Even if you lift the gates off their hinges, they’ll still think of you as the guy who embarrassed Brock last year during the Qualifiers.” Landon realized by Riley’s reaction that the girl’s words were like daggers, killing his hopes and dreams with every jab of the knife. She then turned to Landon and introduced herself.

“I’m Kathryn . . . Kathryn Leigh Chapman. You can call me Katie Leigh. And I
accept
my place as an average citizen of the Gymnasium,”—she gave Riley a pointed glance—“never mind the fact that I was brought here two years younger than any other student in the history of this place.”

Kathryn stood up and shook Landon’s hand. She couldn’t have been but five feet tall. 

“I’m Landon.”

“Nice to meet you. So what’s your story? How’d you debut?” she asked as she hijacked the conversation.

“Yeah, why haven’t I asked you yet? . . . How
did
you debut?” Riley added.

Somewhat taken aback by the gumption of this tiny girl sitting across from him, Landon asked, “Debut?”

“D-E-B-U-T. Develop extra-skeletal behavior and unusual talents . . . debut.” She answered as if she were competing in a school spelling bee. “I made it up, but everyone uses it now. Never mind I don’t get any of the credit,” Katie Leigh explained in a huff. “The scientists, they call it your apocratusis, but I thought that sounded way too clinical.”

“Sorry about her. She’s obnoxious.”

“Oh, be quiet, Riley,” she snidely returned.

Adopting the shorthand of reluctant friends, Riley and Katie Leigh began to bicker. While they fought, Landon tuned them out and started to scan the room.