The Impossible Race: Cragbridge Hall, Volume 3 Page 14

“How did you get those?” a boy asked.

  “You see,” the woman said, “it is not only the Jews we help. There have been several Nazi soldiers that have tired of working for Hitler. They do not want to persecute and kill Jews. We have helped them escape to a better life, as we have many Jews. But we asked them to leave their uniforms. We thought they might be useful, and they will be.”

  Abby’s heart grew watching the woman, someone who had helped Nazi soldiers quit their disturbing work and who helped save Jews. She was gathering others to help rescue innocent children. “Will you help?”

  Each boy agreed and so did Abby. How could she say no? This act may lead to her virtual death, but she still said yes. She felt a tingle inside as she said it. It was right.

  “Such brave boys. Good boys,” the woman said. They felt like such wonderful titles the way she said them.

  But Abby didn’t feel the tingles when the scene shifted and she walked into the orphanage. The boys simply stated their orders to remove the babies and began to haul them out of the building. Abby could see the fear in the eyes of those who ran the orphanage.

  The Nazi uniforms brought hate and terror. Thankfully, no one questioned or stopped them.

  The scene changed again and Abby walked up to a nearby farm with an infant nestled into her elbow and against her chest. She was no longer wearing the uniform, but carrying a Jewish baby was dangerous enough. The woman in the shoe shop had instructed her to ask those at the farm to please take on the baby, to care for it. It was their chance to save a soul.

  The bushes rustled. Nazi soldiers streamed out, their guns pointed at Abby’s heart. Or so she imagined. The rustling was just the breeze in the leaves. With every step, she was sure it was about to happen. But it never did. She arrived at the farm and the good people accepted the child. The scene faded away.

  “Very good,” her grandfather said, walking through the simulator room.

  Relief swept over Abby. She had passed.

  “Not every brave choice ends in tragedy,” Grandpa explained, the image of his cane clunking against the ground with every step. “In fact, most do not. But we must be prepared if that is the case.”

  And then he disappeared.

  No. Disappearing was bad. That meant there was more.

  Another scene engulfed Abby. The first thing she focused on was a man in a long white shirt and vest. “You’ve each been hand-selected,” the man said. “General Washington has asked that I assemble a special group to do reconnaissance. Do you accept?”

  Reconnaissance? General Washington? Wait. Abby was in the time of the Revolutionary War and George Washington was putting together a group of spies?

  Abby looked around her and saw some young men in uniforms and others in work clothes. They accepted. She did too. She didn’t know what else to say.

  “Very good,” the man said. “You will be my Rangers. I have a mission for one of you. I need someone to sneak into New York and tell us every move the British military makes. You will not be in uniform and you will be behind enemy lines. Some may think this behavior is contrary to the good form of a gentleman, but it is necessary.”

  No one stirred.

  “If you truly desire to be free,” the general or lieutenant or whatever he was spoke again, “we need more information about our enemy.”

  “I’ll do it,” Abby volunteered. It was her test. She wasn’t sure she would have volunteered otherwise.

  She received instruction, then changed into average clothes and traveled across the harbor.

  The scenes changed rapidly, Abby seeing them more than experiencing them. She moved from place to place. There was a British invasion and a great fire. She wrote information about the British military. Then she was questioned by a British commander who had found the information. She had been discovered.

  Abby felt cords around her arms and legs. She looked around. Apparently she had been bound and was lying on a greenhouse floor somewhere. It seemed like an unlikely place to keep a prisoner. Then Abby remembered that armies would simply commandeer people’s property during war. A soldier in a British uniform raised her to her feet and marched her across the yard until she saw something that sent fear to the point of sickness through her body—a gallows. They were going to hang her.

  They gave her a chance to speak, but she didn’t know what to say. She imagined that the person whose place she was in probably said something very memorable.

  They prodded her to stand on a stool while they put the noose around her neck. Unless there was some daring rescue coming for America’s first spy, she was doomed.

  And then they kicked the stool out from under her.

  She fell, tensing for what was coming. All her weight instantly fell on her neck. It hurt and wrenched, squeezing away her breath. She gasped for air.

  There was no relief, no breath.

  She struggled, twisting her body, hoping for a gasp. Her consciousness started to slip away.

  The scene faded and her grandfather stood in front of her. Abby gulped down several breaths of wonderful air. She grabbed her neck, feeling no rope nor wounds. Her feet stood firmly on the floor.

  “Nathan Hale was a bright young man,” the image of her grandfather said. “He graduated from Yale and wanted to help in America’s revolution. When he was asked to be part of the Rangers, perhaps he accepted because he didn’t feel he had contributed much. And, factually, his spy mission was a failure. He was discovered and hanged. But he did what he felt was right. In his final words he expressed his regret that he only had one life to give for his country.”

  Abby had heard of those words.

  Grandpa waited solemnly. “We need more people who do what is right, no matter the consequences.”

  A compartment in the simulator wall opened, shifting out of the thick brick. It was about the size of a shoe. Abby walked over, wondering what had been hidden in the wall.

  A visor. Like those used with the avatars or in the virtual worlds.

  “You have to see the world the right way,” Grandpa explained. “You must be willing to do what is right, no matter the cost. You have proven that you can do that. You are closer to being trusted with the secret of the future.”

  Abby took the visor and put it on.

  Inside the mask, she saw another virtual version of her grandfather. “I have one more fear about you seeing that future: I fear you will believe what you see more than you should.”

  And then he was gone.

  • • •

  Derick floated on the currents, looking at the ground below. He veered his falcon left and then dove. It wasn’t a stoop but was still fast. He wasn’t here for thrills, but to think.

  The girl. The future. Ash. Dying. The Race. Mr. Silverton. Mr. Sul. The message from Muns. The Messenger. He didn’t have answers for all the questions in his head, but hopefully discovering the container in Mr. Silverton’s closet and tipping security had done some good. Hopefully Muns’s plan had failed and his life was already saved. They had taken the time to use the Bridge to check on the scheming businessman again, but he was still unconscious.

  If Muns’s plan wasn’t foiled, and Derick was still going to die, he would miss this place. He would miss flying over campus. He would miss school. He would miss his friends and even his sister. When they first came to Cragbridge Hall, he wasn’t sure she would be able to make it. But now . . . Well, now he knew differently. Grandpa had seen more than he had. Maybe brothers don’t always see what’s best in their own sisters.

  And now Abby had found the next step in the challenges to see the future. She had messaged him to say that she had tried the virtual booths and the avatar labs with the visor and nothing happened. It was another mystery. He had made a few metal objects trying to catch up to her, but he couldn’t do it all. Plus, he was supposed to be studying up on his Greek mythology for the next challenge in the Race.

  He would miss his parents. He hadn’t spoken to them in . . .

  He could feel tears, but c
ouldn’t wipe them. His arms controlled his wings and were currently very busy gliding through the sky.

  He would miss his grandfather too.

  No. He wasn’t going to think about death anymore.

  Another message came through from Mr. Sul. Derick landed his falcon on top of the tower. Below, he saw the security guards watching as they always did.

  He selected the video message.

  “This isn’t right,” Mr. Silverton said. The portly computer science professor sat at his desk in his room, flanked by Mr. Sul and two security officers. “Someone set me up.” He stared at the chemistry case that had just been discovered in his closet. Mr. Sul had been informed by security and recorded the scene with his rings. “Check the security footage. I was monitoring the hall when the power went out.” He pointed toward the hall outside his room.

  “And from your position during the Race,” Chief Shar responded, “the power was off long enough for you to steal into the chemistry room and get back here.”

  Mr. Silverton’s mouth opened then closed. Finally, he spoke again. “This was well thought-out. Whoever is responsible for this knew what they were doing. And they want me out of the picture.”

  Chief Shar looked down as the blond-bearded officer opened up the container. Vials of various substances stood upright in protective foam. “Tell us your plans,” Chief Shar said. “What were you going to use the chemicals for?”

  “It wasn’t me,” Mr. Silverton said. “I don’t know what I’d do with the chemicals.”

  “Fine,” Chief Shar said. “Stealing is cause for dismissal at this school. Tell us everything or you will be out of Cragbridge Hall and in our station downtown within the hour.”

  “I don’t have anything else to tell you,” Mr. Silverton said. “I don’t know anything. I’ve tracked the hacks as best I could and was frank and honest with you about me being a suspect. Now I’m being frank and honest again; I don’t know anything.”

  If he wasn’t telling the truth, he was a decent actor.

  “It is the administration’s decision to make whether he’s dismissed or not,” Mr. Sul said. “For now, let’s hold him in your security cells on campus. I want to be totally sure there isn’t more to this.”

  Chief Shar looked at Mr. Sul for a moment. “Silverton has the know-how to send the mysterious messages and perhaps hack into the electrical system. He stole the chemicals. And now we have him. This is likely the end of the case.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Mr. Sul said. “But in the off chance this isn’t the end, let’s keep him close.”

  “I’m telling you,” Mr. Silverton said, a few beads of sweat on his bald head, “I am a trusted friend of Oscar Cragbridge and I’ve been set up. Someone deliberately wants me out of the picture.”

  “You’re not in a position to speak anymore,” Chief Shar said, pointing for emphasis. “Looks like we found the man behind the mystery.”

  Derick exhaled long and slow. It made sense. Mr. Silverton could do it all. Derick wondered what the computer science teacher had planned for the rest of the Race. What was he trying to accomplish? Thankfully, they would probably never know.

  The scene with the officers and Mr. Silverton faded and left only Mr. Sul. He was no longer in Mr. Silverton’s room, but in his own office. “We have other news as well,” he said. “Mrs. Flink just reported to me that she discovered that her key is a fake. It does not work in the doors leading to the Bridge. Someone switched it out and her real key is most likely in the box for the Race. Mrs. Flink can’t remember using it for over a week, so the timing fits.” Mr. Sul grimaced. “Though we can’t know for certain, it is logical that Mr. Silverton was the thief. He spent a lot of time with Mrs. Flink and because they are on the same council, he likely knew where she hid her key. Plus, he has the know-how to make a reasonable fake. It is most likely that he stole her key and put it in the box he made. We will continue to investigate, but this stands to reason.” The video faded.

  Derick took off again, his falcon wings spreading wide. He felt lighter, his robot body bobbing on the currents. Derick could be out of danger. No more reason to worry about the secret, or about dying.

  As he glided over the campus again, his relief melted into concern. What if Mr. Silverton had told the truth? What if he had been framed? Then not only was someone still free and working for Muns, but they just pulled off a rather elaborate setup to get the computer whiz out of the way.

  Going Mythical

  Welcome to the Mold for your second challenge,” Sarah announced. The student-body officer with the short, dark hair stood on the same portable stage, but this time in front of a free-standing building about the size of a gym. “This is the biggest 3-D printer in the world. It can make nearly anything out of hard plastic. It even has programs to place rebar foundations, and reinforced plastic to make it structurally sound.”

  Landon took over, standing beside Sarah on the stage. “After the machine carves the plastic, the shards left over fall to the bottom and are swept away. Then when it’s done, the Mold can melt the plastic down and reuse it for the next game.” Landon gestured toward the crowd. “You may have been lucky enough to use it after a drafting course to see how the house or building you designed would actually look in real life. You may have used it in design or engineering classes. But today we’re going mythical.”

  Sarah stepped forward. “An ingenious group of students has devised quite the legendary challenge.”

  “It may have been true that Crete was once a very real power in the ancient world and Athens bowed to them,” Landon announced. On the screens beside them, pictures of Earth zoomed in until they showed Crete, an island in the Mediterranean Sea. “It was definitely the case in a particular Greek myth. King Minos, a son of Zeus, reigned there.” A king in blue and gold robes and a simple matching crown stood on-screen. “One of Minos’s sons sailed to Athens and competed in their version of the Olympics.” The screen showed young athletes boxing, wrestling, and racing chariots.

  “Wow,” Carol said. “I didn’t study this one, but I’m surprised we’ve gone this long in a Greek myth without someone dying, or something really weird happening.”

  “Jealous of his success, some killed Minos’s son,” Sarah added.

  “There it is,” Carol whispered.

  “When Minos found out about it,” Sarah continued, “he sailed with his great navy to find those who killed his son.” Ship after ship crossed the screen, their sails filling as they traveled toward Athens.

  A different king came onto the screen. He did not look as strong or as confident. “But when the king of Athens had no way of telling who had actually done the deed,” Landon said, “he let King Minos place a punishment on his people. He was at the mercy of a stronger military power.” The screen showed one king bowing to the other. “King Minos decreed that every seventh year, seven of the fairest young men and seven of the most beautiful maidens would sail back to Crete.”

  “He would probably pick us,” Carol said, watching the screen depict the story.

  “I don’t think we’d want him to,” Abby replied.

  “And they were sacrificed to a beast in the labyrinth,” Sarah stated matter-of-factly. At the word labyrinth, the screen went dark.

  “On second thought, I think I’d be okay being the eighth most fair in that land,” Carol corrected.

  Scene after scene of twists and turns inside a huge dark maze appeared on the screen. The walls were over three stories tall. Boulders, holes, and divots were strewn along portions of the path, and stairs raised up and down to lead to a second story of maze or back to the main floor. “This is the challenge students here at Cragbridge Hall made,” Landon explained. “The Mold has been turned into the labyrinth!”

  The crowd erupted in applause.

  “Now to choose who will enter,” Landon said. “We only have twenty-four teams left, but only six teams are here. The remaining eighteen teams will also compete in groups of six teams. Only the top thre
e teams of each group will move on. Each of you may have two members of your team enter the maze. Unlike the myth though, we won’t base it on who is the fairest. We will let you choose.”

  “But first,” Sarah jumped in, “let’s be sure you are familiar with the rest of the myth. Those who were selected had to enter the maze and face the man-eating monster inside . . .” Her voice rose in excitement. “THE MINOTAUR!” A great beast with a muscular man’s frame and a large bull head roared on the screen. Then he brandished his horns. It would only take one good swipe with those to do serious damage.

  “He is so creepy,” Abby said. “Of course a man-eating anything is creepy.”

  “That’s one thing I never understood about the minotaur,” Carol said. “If it’s part man and part bull, why does it eat humans? Humans don’t eat humans, and bulls are vegetarians. It doesn’t make any sense. The ancient Greeks were so inconsistent.”

  “Don’t try to ruin this,” Derick said. “It’s awesome.”

  “Maybe when you put the head of one species on another it messes up their appetites,” Carol theorized. “If you changed my head, I’d be pretty upset and I’d be willing to bet that my stomach would be too.” She inflated her tummy with air and patted it twice. “That has to be it.”

  “Pick the two people on your team that you think would fare best against the beast,” Sarah instructed. “As you choose, it may be helpful to know that there will be chances to gain weapons within the maze.”

  The team gathered. Anjum took the lead, speaking through their sync. “I’m open to suggestions,” he said. “I love a virtual challenge, but for this, my initial leaning is for members of the Crash. You’re athletic and can control your bodies well. This seems like it could be physically demanding.”

  Several of the team agreed.

  “Rafa, you lead the Crash; I’ll let you pick,” Anjum said.

  Abby could feel herself breathe deeper. She wasn’t even being considered—exactly how she wanted it to be. She would love to stay as far away from anything that eats people as possible—even if it’s only a virtual thing. And even if its head was technically supposed to be a vegetarian.