The Impossible Race: Cragbridge Hall, Volume 3 Page 3

  “We must have scared them off,” Carol said. She then yelled back at where the virtual serpent had been. “That’s right, creepy snakey slither demon and your naughty ninja minions. Go home. And don’t come back.”

  “You wish,” Derick said. “It’s another glitch. You can be done for now. I’d better start fixing it if I’m going to turn it in tonight.”

  The world faded, and Abby and Carol took off their equipment and stepped out of their booths into the math and engineering classroom. They normally would use the booths to create bridges and buildings and cities, but this was a bit more creative. They cracked open the door to Derick’s booth.

  “It wasn’t exactly my style,” Abby said, “but it is an incredible challenge. I really think other students will love it.”

  “I completely agree,” Carol said. “But if your first entry actually got into the Race, wouldn’t that break a record or something? There are like hundreds of kids who try, most of them a lot older than us.” She stepped away and sat on a desk. “And of those kids, some of them super-care. They submit lots of times. They don’t just count on one scenario making it. They have lots of backup plans.”

  Backup plans. Abby was beginning to hate those words.

  “I wonder if a seventh grader has ever actually gotten their challenge into the Race,” Carol said, bringing Abby back from her thoughts.

  “I don’t think seventh graders usually do anything in the Race,” Abby said. “Except maybe cheer on all the other people in the older grades. They’re older and better at everything.”

  “Oh, I think we can give them a run for their money,” Derick said, still working inside his booth. “Hold on. I’ve got another message.” Derick must have received an alert.

  “Derick,” Abby said. “Don’t get too excited about every message. I know you’d rather be invited to be on a team that is part of the Race and actually does the challenges instead of just submitting, but . . .”

  Derick rushed out of his booth jumping and pumping his fists. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” he yelled out, over and over. “I got an invite!” He did a few celebratory karate kicks.

  “No way,” Carol whispered then raised her voice to a shout. “That’s amazing!” She did a few karate kicks herself.

  “That’s great,” Abby said, stunned.

  “Yeah,” Derick agreed, stopping to watch Carol’s strange karate moves. “Some ninth grader named Alexa Nigh is putting it together. She heard I was part of the Crash.”

  Abby hadn’t thought of that. Though she and Derick were both young, Derick was the newest member of the Crash, the club of students who were the very best at controlling the robot animal avatars. Obviously, he was good enough to attack mercenaries in Brazil. Since avatar ability might be important in the Race, everyone wanted someone who was good at them. Unlike Derick, Abby could barely squeak by with a passing grade in avatars.

  “Of course, it’s not official,” Derick said, now standing in front of Carol and Abby. “They aren’t allowed to form teams until after the announcement, but she says I can count on an invite.”

  “Congratulations,” Carol said, then did a few more jabs in the air and a kick. “I’m really liking this karate celebration thing.”

  “Just don’t hurt yourself,” Abby said, having to duck as Carol got a little out of control. “And don’t hurt me either.”

  Derick looked at both of them, then his smile flattened. “Oh. You never know—you may have invites coming.”

  Abby hoped she wasn’t blushing. “I’m not worried about it.” She waved him off. “Besides, I barely made it into the school and I’m scraping by with my grades. I don’t expect anyone to invite me to the elite stuff.” She didn’t expect it, though it would be a nice surprise. She wasn’t sure she wanted to do it, but she would still like an invitation.

  “Whatever.” Carol slapped Abby on the shoulder. “You’re forgetting you’re—” Her voice became guttural and loud. “—legendary!” Her arms flung up and she did jazz hands. “So what if you’ve never aced a math test. You’ve stopped an evil mastermind from stealing our keys and destroying the world, twice!” She shot up two fingers. “Of course, I helped quite a bit. Plus, I add a flair that’s really important to our success.” She looked at Derick. “You did your incredible part, too.” She struck a pose. “We. Are. The. Best.” She changed to a different superhero-style pose with each of the last four words.

  “She’s right,” Derick admitted. “She’s also hyper and over-the-top, but she’s right. If it wasn’t for you, Abby, Muns would have won.”

  Abby had succeeded. But very few people knew. She wouldn’t get an invitation, because they had no idea what she was capable of.

  • • •

  Derick couldn’t stop thinking about his invitation as he rode the elevator up to his floor and down the hall to his room. He flopped on his bed and fumbled to take off his rings and set them on his nightstand. But something was sitting on top of his usual mess of clothes and food wrappers. He sat up in his bed and looked down at a small . . . thing.

  It looked like a miniature version of Saturn, but the rings around the little planet blended into the sphere. It was also completely silver. Maybe it was his roommate’s. He’d have to ask later.

  But what was it? Derick touched the saturn and jolted back in surprise, as the thing somehow launched itself into the air and hovered at eye level. There was no sound of an engine or propeller. He had never seen anything like it. The little saturn projected words into the air.

  Analyzing.

  Derick Cragbridge.

  Lived September 17, 2063 to March 29, 2075.

  It must have read his fingerprints, or facial features, or retinas or something because it knew who he was. But what was with the “lived”? Past tense. His birthday was right, but according to the little floating ball, he was going to die in a few weeks.

  “Weird prank,” Derick mumbled to himself. He approached the saturn, getting nice and close to whatever camera it might have. “If this is some team from the Race trying to invite me, or scare me into not joining up with another team, it’s not working. I’m not even sure what your point is.” He brushed his hand toward the floating ball, but it dodged it easily.

  Wow. Impressive response.

  More words.

  Cannot authorize a nonliving person.

  There is was again: nonliving. Prank, or this thing was really broken.

  Seeking special authorization.

  Special authorization for what? To give him more pointless messages?

  Authorization obtained in records. Message coming.

  Apparently, the saturn thought it was an okay idea to relay a message to someone it thought was dead. “You’re not the brightest little robot off the assembly machine, are you?”

  The saturn projected a face, as bright and realistic as if it were on the best of screens, of a girl with short dark hair and tan skin. “I hope this will work.” He could hear her clearly. The saturn was a speaker as well. “Well, of course it works. I’ve been selfing on this forever. I mean, I hope it will work when I send it back to you.” She shook her head. “But if you are seeing this, then it did work. I’ll move ahead, hoping for the best.”

  Derick passed his hand through the image just to be sure there was no screen. Nothing.

  The image flickered, then returned.

  “Derick, I hope this reaches you at the right time.” How did she know his name? He looked at her closely. No, he didn’t recognize her. He couldn’t remember her from any of his classes. He hadn’t passed her in the halls. And how did she get the little saturn into his room? There was definitely some trespassing going on. “From what I’ve been able to figure out, which isn’t much, you and your sister came the closest to stopping Charles Muns.”

  She knew about Muns. Derick immediately looked around his room to make sure he was alone. That probably meant that she knew about the secret as well. And the keys. But she had said, “. . . came the closest to stopping him.”
She was wrong. They had stopped him. They stopped him flat, dropped-unconscious-on-his-desk-without-any-keys flat.

  “Let me back up,” she said. “As crazy as this sounds, I think my history is different from yours. Parts of it anyway.” She rubbed her eyes. “Charles Muns changed it. That’s probably how he became what he is. He shouldn’t be. He’s caused this mess that no one should have to live in.” She frowned and moved her fingers in the air. She didn’t have rings, but perhaps something that worked on a similar principle. Maybe she could actually interact with the screen in the air on her end. “Here, let me show you.” The face moved and Derick saw a beautiful set of skyscrapers towering over a city. Rows and rows of homes filled the land beneath. “It doesn’t look too bad, I know, but glance this.” Derick saw person after person walking the streets. There was something about them that seemed dull. Sullen faces, subtly drooping eyes. It wasn’t like they were zombies, just missing something. Just living less.

  One of them doubled over. It was a middle-aged man. He groaned, loud and hollow, and pressed his arms against his belly as if he had just been sucker-punched in the gut. He grabbed the person next to him, but could barely whisper. “Help me,” he gasped.

  In under a minute, a tile in the ground in the weird world opened up. A long cylinder the size of a kitchen table floated out. This world really had the floating thing down. A small, egg-looking device detached itself and hovered over to the man. “No skeletal injury. Safe to move,” the machine announced in a professional female voice. It was some sort of floating doctor.

  A long board with mechanical arms slid out of the cylinder, carefully loaded the man onto itself, then returned into the cylinder. “You will be arriving at the hospital for medical care in forty-nine seconds,” the same female voice explained. Then the cylinder disappeared back into the ground. Apparently there was some sort of underground transportation system for the cylinders.

  That was a fast response to a medical emergency.

  A man with a long gray coat had paused to watch the whole incident. “I’ll bet you my stamps, it’s the Ash,” he said, and shook his head. “The poor guy will be gone within the hour.”

  “And more likely than not, no one will remember who he was,” a woman added. She sat on the ground, apparently a beggar. She reached out to the man for money or food. He simply shrugged and kept walking.

  The face of the girl sending the message returned. “This is reasonably common. They call it the epidemic of our time; a disease that causes people to fall terribly ill, then disintegrate from the inside out. He’ll be dead in an hour—and a pile of ash-like grains by morning. That’s where the name comes from. They say that the world’s best doctors are close to a cure, but people are definitely scared.” For the first time, Derick noticed the girl’s clothes as she talked. They overlapped at the cuffs and had a row of silver buttons. Strange style. Another row of buttons lined the trim around her neck.

  The message flickered again. Derick wondered if something was wrong with the saturn.

  “I know it’s all a cover-up,” the girl continued. “There is no disease.” She rubbed her eyes. “Wow. This is a lot to go over. Here’s the short version: Muns and his descendants change the past. They do it whenever someone tries to get in their way, or when someone simply does something they don’t like. Eventually those changes catch up to our time. If those changes kept two people from marrying, then their children would never exist. If the changes prevented someone from becoming a doctor who would save others’ lives, those people would no longer exist. There are really countless scenarios. But when those changes catch up to our time, if someone would no longer exist, they get the Ash.” She looked down. “Sometimes, it’s like they were never here.”

  The terror of it struck Derick. If he got the Ash, one moment he could be practicing avatars with Rafa, and within the hour, he could be gone. Or Carol. Or Ab— He didn’t want to think about it. And Muns had claimed he only wanted to change tragedies in history. Either that was all a cover story, or he would change over time. He wanted control—control over everything.

  “We found the keys to the Bridge that you hid.” She opened her mouth to continue, but then caught herself before the sound escaped. She shook her head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t tell you names. Someone you know organized us and told us about them, but she is a lot older now.” Derick’s mind raced. Someone he knew organized a rebellion, and she was a lot older? He didn’t know what to think of it. But if they found the hidden keys they had to be extremely dedicated. The Council of the Keys had put them in special protective cases and hid them in jungles, on mountaintops, and even at the bottom of the ocean. Rafa had used a fish avatar for that.

  “And with a lot of planning and help,” the girl continued, “I snuck into Muns’s stronghold and used them in Muns’s Bridge. I found out more and recorded this message on the self.” That must be the name for the little saturn. “I’ve risked my life for it. But there was a chance to stop Muns. And it all starts with the Race.” The great competition between teams? The fantastic challenge? It had something to do with Muns? “I can’t tell you more. I don’t want to cause some of the same problems Muns does by messing with the past, but this is a chance I had to take.”

  She moved closer, her face becoming bigger in the portrayal. “And Derick,” she continued, “I sent this message to you because you have to do things differently. The way your history unfolds now, you don’t have long.” Projected from the saturn, Derick saw his own silhouette, with trees and the Watchman—the tower on top of the main building at Cragbridge Hall—in the background. A flash of light. A scream. His scream. “Unless you change what you would have done and succeed in stopping Muns, his plan will take your life.”

  Derick felt hollow. The taste in his mouth grew metallic. Death? Gone? Muns wins?

  Derick heard footsteps coming from behind the girl, not in his room, but wherever she was filming. “Oh, no.” Her lips trembled and she began moving her fingers furiously. He had no idea what she was doing. “They’ve found me.” She swallowed hard. “I hope you get this and it works. I hope you can change it—for your sake and ours.”

  The message closed and the saturn floated back down to his nightstand.

  Whoa. Mind Blown.

  Weird, huh?” Derick said, the saturn floating back down into his hand. He looked across the table at the other members of the Council of the Keys. They met in Rafa’s mother’s office, surrounded by pieces of avatars. Derick pushed a giraffe leg off to one side and sat on the edge of a table. “I’ve watched it like thirty times now.”

  The room was silent.

  “I don’t know where that little floating ball thing came from,” Carol said, standing next to a fully formed robot rhinoceros, “but it’s really rude. Its whole message was basically, ‘Hey, I’m from the future. Do better. The fate of the world is on your shoulders. Oh, and you’re going to die.’ Its mama robot should have taught it some manners.”

  Abby felt stunned. Her brother, dead? It had been hard to live in his shadow all of her life, but she would never want him gone. She blinked several times, hoping her emotions weren’t obvious to everyone. She was surprised at how strong they were and how quickly they came to the surface.

  “And look,” Carol said. “It’s almost made Abby cry. I mean, rude!”

  Abby sniffled but tried to change the subject. “But do you really think it’s from the future?” She hoped it wasn’t. She hoped it was some bizarre tasteless joke. But over the past year she had learned that some pretty crazy things were completely possible.

  “I’ve never seen any technology like this,” Rafa’s mother said. And she was the world’s expert at making robotic animal avatars. “It’s impressive. I’ve done a quick scan, and it’s just as unique and advanced on the inside.” She wore a pair of sleek goggles and held the saturn in a gloved hand. Apparently she could do some sort of scan with the goggles. “I could study this for months.”

  “So you’re saying it could b
e from the future,” Carol summarized.

  Rafa’s mother shrugged. “There is no way to tell for sure, but it’s a possibility.”

  “From the future,” Carol repeated to herself. “That sounds like such a prank.” Then her eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open. “That gives me a great idea; let’s pick out a few students and send them fake messages from themselves in the future telling them stuff like ‘Don’t eat the food in the cafeteria today. It’s been poisoned.’ Or, ‘The first five answers on your test today are C, A, B, the number 17, and all of the above.’ Or ‘Isn’t that girl Carol Reese super-cute? You should pay more attention to her and invite her to be on your team for the Race.’”

  “That is a funny idea,” Rafa said, forcing a smile. “But I think we have some more serious things to think about.” He was pulling on wires inside of a monkey arm and making the fingers flex and relax.

  “At least my fake messages from the future would be nicer than Mr. Floaty Doomsday Depression here,” Carol sulked, pointing at the saturn.

  “Bottom line,” Derick said. “Do we need to be worried about the Race?”

  Abby could only imagine what her brother might be feeling. Did he want her to say that they didn’t have to worry about it, that his life wasn’t on the line? That he could just compete in the Race and relax? “Muns is still unconscious,” Abby said, “like our parents and our grandpa. But if this message is right, we are in some definite trouble. The stakes are higher than ever.”

  “The stakes have always been high,” Derick said. “The past and future have always been on the line.” Was he downplaying it all? Was he looking for a way to rationalize it away?

  “Yeah,” Abby admitted, “but if this is right, we have to do better than we would have done. We’ll have to succeed where we would have failed.” She blinked a few more times. “We have to. You have to.”