Brainboy and the Deathmaster Read online

  “You come out in a kayak without a life vest,” BJ cried, “and you can’t even swim?”

  “I’m drownded!” Boris croaked, spluttering.

  “You’re not drowned. You’re just an idiot.”

  Boris was starting to catch his breath. “You almost pulled my hair out!” he said hoarsely.

  “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

  “You guys okay?” asked Kit, swimming around from the other side of the kayak.

  “I guess so,” BJ said. “This idiot’s Boris.”

  “Here, I’ll hold this thing so you guys can get back in,” Kit said.

  Even with him bracing the kayak, getting back in was an adventure. By the time they managed it, the ski boat was roaring their way.

  “Hey, Kit!” BJ cried over the rumble of the out-board. “Are you Keith Masterly’s son?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Do you know Darryl Kirby?”

  “Or Nina Rizniak?” Boris chimed in.

  Kit shook his head. “Never heard of them. Sorry.”

  The driver cut the engine as the ski boat swooped up.

  “Are you all right, sir?”

  “Thanks to BJ and Boris here.”

  “I’m so sorry!” The driver put a ladder over the side of the boat. “I’d gotten used to you never falling.”

  “Don’t worry about it.’’ Kit climbed into the boat. “Ski’s over there. Careful, there’s a deadhead around here.’’ He looked back down at the kayak. “Thanks, guys. Anything I can do for you?”

  But the news that he’d never heard of Darryl or Nina was so discouraging that BJ just sighed and shook his head. Boris was even more dejected. Not only was there no Nina, his cigarettes, which he’d transferred from his sock to his shirt pocket, had gotten soaked. Only when the ski boat was out of earshot did it occur to either one of them that they could have asked to be pulled back across the lake.

  22

  The ruddy faces were blurry and wavery, but the eyes were all trained on him, filled with bitterness and recrimination. He inched closer, squinting, trying to make out who they were. Wasn’t that his mother? And his father? Yes, and there was his brother! And his aunt and uncle and cousin! And his grandmother and grandfather! He reached out joyously toward his mother—and snatched his hand back, scalded.

  “Rise and shine, friend and colleague. … ”

  Darryl sat bolt upright. He was in the luxurious bed in his rosy room in Paradise Lab. But although the sheets and pillowcases were as cool and crisp as ever, he was soaked with sweat.

  Still shaky after showering, he changed into an ice-blue jumpsuit and hustled to the dining hall, where his vitamin awaited him by a glass of tomato juice at his place. Everything had changed since he’d skipped it yesterday. The rings had terrified him, and his room had been lonely, and now he was having nightmares.

  Yet he hesitated to take the pale-blue pill. He didn’t really want to forget about BJ and Mrs. Walker again. And soon Nina came in and sat down beside him, which reminded him of the moon.

  “To conquering Time!” Ruthie said, lifting her juice glass.

  Darryl only pretended to pop the pill, instead squirreling it away in his pocket.

  Down on L he ducked into Bio and studied his slide of G-17 until a hubbub lured him back out to the octagon. Mr. Masterly had returned to Paradise.

  “Look, sir!” Paul Pettinio cried, waving a computer printout as he waddled up to the great man. “I’ve been changing the agitation rate on the compound.”

  Mr. Masterly glanced over the results. “This looks promising, Paul.”

  “Mr. Masterly!” Billy O’Connor cried from the doorway to Chem. “Come see! I’ve been building an armor for G-17 out of mercury!”

  Though there was something creepy about the way they all clamored for Mr. Masterly’s approval, Darryl couldn’t help wishing he had an interesting finding or new idea to share.

  After encouraging Greg Birtwissel’s latest experiment with growth hormones, Mr. Masterly went to one of the computer stations and slipped a CD-ROM into the D drive. Everyone crowded around and watched a full-color model of the G-17 molecule bloom on the monitor.

  “Thanks to groundwork laid by Suki and Mario,” Mr. Masterly said, “the graphics department at MasterTech was able to complete this. Look how it shows all the ion permutations and hydrocarbon links.”

  Using the mouse, he moved the cursor to a circular icon on the tool bar and clicked. The entire complex molecule rotated slowly on its axis, giving them continuously different angles on its architecture.

  “Wow,” Darryl said, leaning in.

  “Billy,” Mr. Masterly said, “will you load the new image onto all the computers?”

  “Yes, sir!” Billy cried.

  Darryl spent the rest of that morning poring over the new image at one of the computers at the central console. It was far clearer than the real thing, and he was just reaching some interesting conclusions when a bell rang and the red globe lit up, revolving like the cherry on a police car.

  “Who wants to take it?” Mr. Masterly said.

  “Me!” came a chorus of three or four, Ruthie the loudest.

  Darryl was trembling violently. As everyone else crowded around Ruthie, Nina tugged him out of his chair and dragged him into Bio.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered, closing the door softly.

  Darryl just stood there shuddering.

  “Something really freaked you,” she said. “If Mr. Masterly noticed, he’d know you’re off the vitamin. Was it the bell? The red light?”

  “Water,” he managed.

  She brought him a beaker of water from one of the sinks. He pulled the vitamin out of his pocket and popped it in his mouth.

  “Don’t!” Nina cried. “Throw it up!”

  But he’d swallowed it. And in a matter of minutes he calmed down enough to return to his computer station.

  23

  Nina could have wrung his neck for taking the vitamin. But furious as she was, she was also curious. Why had he panicked like that? She spent the rest of the day watching Darryl go about his lab work and exercise and dinner in the same focused way as the rest of the team.

  The next morning she was the first one in the dining hall. Hedderly had set the table, complete with glasses of pineapple juice and vitamins. She pocketed Darryl’s tablet and sat down in chair number seven to wait for the others.

  Darryl came in chattering with Billy O’Connor about the new G-17 image. They didn’t stop talking about it until the food was served and Ruthie raised her glass “To conquering Time!”

  “Give it to me,” Darryl hissed.

  Nina picked up her fork and sampled her poached egg.

  “Thief,” he whispered.

  “Wuss,” she whispered back.

  A startled look crossed his face. His eyes fixed on his plate. Everyone else dug in, but he still hadn’t so much as picked up his fork when the others got up to go.

  “Come on, Darryl,” Billy said, pulling him out of his chair. “There’s this lecture on fission you’ve got to see.”

  Still looking dazed, Darryl followed Billy out of the dining hall. Nina wrapped the cinnamon roll he’d left on his plate in a napkin and followed them down to L. After spending half an hour with Billy in Video, Darryl ducked into Bio, and Nina went in and set the cinnamon roll by his microscope. He didn’t thank her. He didn’t speak to her at lunch, either. Or during exercise period, which he spent in the pool, never even glancing toward the gymnasium. Nor did he speak to her at dinner.

  After dinner there was a general migration up to the AquaFilm, but Nina retreated to her room. She was lying in bed listening to “We’ll Meet Again” when Darryl barged in.

  “I want my vitamin,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest in the doorway.

  She sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “I didn’t really mean you’re a wuss, Darryl.”

  “I want my vitamin,” he repeated.

  “You j
ust think you do. They make you feel better, but it’s not real.”

  “So what? What’s so wonderful about real? You like StarMaster, don’t you? It’s not real.”

  “But … facing things makes you stronger. Not a wuss.”

  He flinched.

  “What is it, Darryl?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, what?”

  He closed the door behind him and slumped down in one of the red velvet chairs. “Somebody used to call me that.”

  “Who?”

  He said something, but too low to hear.

  “Who?” she said, the last of her anger evaporated.

  “My brother,” he whispered. “Jason.”

  “What happened to him?”

  Darryl lowered his eyes.

  “Why did that bell bother you so much down on L? Or was it the flashing red light?”

  He just kept studying the carpet.

  “Darryl?”

  He said nothing. She suddenly felt like going over and giving him a comforting hug, but she remained on the bed.

  “Whatever it is,” she said gently, “you ought to face up to it. Otherwise it’ll make you its prisoner. Like you’re a prisoner here.”

  He shot her a look. “Mr. Masterly said I could spend the summer water-skiing if I wanted. Why would he say that if I was a prisoner?”

  “He wanted you to think you had a choice.”

  “You mean … because he wants us to want to be here?”

  “I figure orientation only works if you’re psyched for the chemistry and stuff. It’s like in this book about magic in my school library. It said nobody can hypnotize you if you don’t want to be hypnotized. All that stuff about swaying a pocket watch in front of people’s eyes and putting them in a trance is baloney.”

  “Did he mention talking with the dead?”

  “Uh-huh. And you’d already taken a vitamin before you had the tour of Paradise, right? That’s how it was with me.”

  “What made you stop taking it?”

  “I dropped it one time at breakfast, like you did. Except mine rolled out behind my chair and Hedderly stepped on it. He pulverized it. I was scared to speak up. Then that night I started missing Boris something awful. I cried myself to sleep. But I decided I liked feeling lonely better than feeling numb.”

  “That sort of looks like Boris,” Darryl said, eyeing the acrobat. “How’d you two get separated in that shelter?”

  “Mr. Masterly said he’d be adopting Boris, too.”

  “Did you eat a pastry?”

  “A lemon tart—in his private jet. Next thing I knew, I was right here.”

  “Do you remember orientation?”

  “Not much. I figure they give you something that helps you absorb information but switches off the rest of your brain. The vitamins aren’t so strong, but they still switch off parts of you. Not the parts that help you figure out the structure of G-17. Other parts.”

  “Like feelings.”

  “If you don’t think about the past, or people you miss, you can concentrate better on isotopes and polymers.”

  “But, you know, Nina, I thought about G-17 today even after the vitamin started wearing off. It’s pretty interesting. You think it’ll ever really work? Rejuvenate DNA?”

  “Maybe.”

  “It’ll be like that DeathMaster game.”

  She sat up. “Is that why the red light bugged you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you do well at DeathMaster on that Mondo thing, there’s a red flash. I think it’s taking your picture.”

  Darryl went pale.

  “Is that it?” she said. “The red flash reminds you of being in the shelter?”

  But instead of answering, Darryl just surveyed the room.

  “Want to get out of this place?” he said.

  “Of course. But if he was even a little bit worried about any of us escaping, do you think he’d leave a chest of diamonds lying around?”

  “You’ll have to go up your ventilation shaft.”

  “Oh, sure! It’s got to be a hundred feet straight up.”

  “Chimney technique.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a rock-climbing thing. When there’s long cracks in a rock face.”

  “How do you know about that?”

  Again he didn’t answer. Instead he asked the date.

  “Um, August eighteenth, I think.”

  “You ought to go while the weather’s still warm. In case you have to hike once you get out. You won’t be able to carry any gear—and who knows where we are? When’s Labor Day this year?”

  “September fourth, I think.”

  “Shoot for that,” he said. “It gives you a couple weeks to get in shape. You can train at night. Hedderly won’t notice.”

  “I could never get up that shaft.”

  “Really? I thought you were a Flying Rizniak.”

  She couldn’t help grinning at this. “Well, I guess I could try. You may have to pull me up the last part, though.”

  He looked down at the carpet again.

  “What?”

  “I can’t go.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just can’t. Unless I took a vitamin. And then I probably wouldn’t care about escaping.”

  “But why?”

  “Because,” he muttered.

  “Because why?”

  “It’s like you said. I’m a wuss.”

  24

  On the way back across Lake Washington, Boris rested as much as he rowed, but BJ never stopped paddling once. It was his bike and his wristwatch being held ransom at the rental shop. They made it back just before the place closed, and BJ was so exhausted by the whole ordeal that he barely made it through dinner that night.

  He didn’t wake till after ten the next morning, but once he was up, he wasted no time, wolfing down three bowls of cereal, hopping on his bike, and riding straight over to the shelter. When he slipped into the front hall, he heard voices coming from Ms. Grimsley’s office, so he headed upstairs without bothering her. He found Boris smoking on the windowsill in the third-floor room.

  “I thought your cigarettes got soaked.”

  “I copped a couple from the old bag in the kitchen. So what’s your bright idea for today, Einstein?”

  BJ pointed at the laptop on the desk.

  “What about it?” Boris said.

  “It’s got to be the link.”

  “What link?”

  “Between Darryl and your sister.”

  “Look, Masterly couldn’t’ve adopted them. His own kid would know. My friggin’ arms feel like spaghetti.”

  BJ sat down at the desk and booted up the laptop. As soon as he started negotiating the maze, Boris sidled over to watch.

  “No, go right, yeah, go left there, no, not that way, dumb-dumb, there’s a wall that way.”

  “Jeez, man, it’s hard enough without you blowing smoke in my face.”

  But in spite of the smoke and the backseat driving BJ made it through. When the game list appeared, he clicked on StarMaster 3. Nothing happened for a while, but just as Boris went to flick his cigarette out the window, the question popped up:

  Want to play?

  BJ typed in:

  Yes.

  Who are you?

  BJ. You?

  NABATW.

  “Hey,” BJ said, looking over his shoulder. “What’s your tattoo say?”

  “What’s it to you?” Boris said.

  “Check this out.”

  Boris came back and peered at the screen. “You’re pulling my chain.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Come on. You typed that in.”

  BJ typed in:

  I didn’t get your name.

  The answer reappeared:

  NABATW.

  “No way!” Boris screeched. “That’s Neen!”

  “Your sister?”

  “That’s Neen! It’s got to be!”

  “What’s it mean, NABATW?�
�

  Before Boris could answer, the door opened.

  “Mr. Walker,” Ms. Grimsley said, frowning from the doorway. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Just came by to visit Boris, ma’am.”

  Ms. Grimsley stepped in, sniffing the air. “Is that smoke?”

  “Comes in the window from the kitchen,” Boris said.

  Ms. Grimsley didn’t appear to buy this. “Come with me, Boris,” she said, closing the laptop.

  “Don’t!” he cried, opening the laptop back up. “We’re in the middle of a game.”

  “That can wait. There are some people downstairs who’d like to meet you.”

  “Huh?”

  “Prospective foster parents. They’re looking for a boy about your age. Their own son died in a boating accident.”

  “Then they don’t want me! I can’t even swim. Tell her, man.”

  “He can’t swim,” BJ said.

  “That’s neither here nor there,” said Ms. Grimsley. “Let me smell your breath, Boris.”

  Boris turned away, but Ms. Grimsley took him by the shoulders and made him face her. “As I suspected. Brush your teeth and come join us in my office.”

  As soon as she left, hands gripped BJ’s shoulders like vices. “Get her back!”

  The screen had gone blank, and when BJ hit “Enter,” another maze appeared.

  “Crud,” he said.

  “Go through it! Come on!”

  But this time BJ was two or three turnings away from the exit when the two minutes elapsed.

  “Try again!” Boris cried. “That was Neen!”

  But again BJ failed. And before he could make another stab at it, Ms. Grimsley came back and shepherded them impatiently out of the room.

  25

  Darryl came home from a field trip to the Pacific Science Center to find the house deserted. Or so it seemed. When he went up to his room, there was Jason, sound asleep in bed, even though it wasn’t dark out yet.