Cloneward Bound (20 page)

FP ran in a circle, feeling his way around the walls. The door they had bolted wouldn’t
un
bolt, and there were no other exits.

Everyone was shouting at once, running around in the tiny space. Dr. Devilish and Kevin Keels crashed into each other, and the smaller Keels nearly flipped over backward, smacking into the wall. As he slid onto the ground, shaking his head dizzily, a panel in the wall was dislodged, revealing a small computer screen.

“Hey!” Keels cried out. “Look at this. It’s some kind of control panel.…” He squinted at it. “There’s a weird math problem on the screen.…”

“Let me,” Fisher said, pushing him out of the way as the ceiling crept downward. His heart jerked with every
click
.

“It’s not a math problem,” Fisher said. “It’s a chemical equation.”

The question was fairly straightforward stoichiometry, and Fisher felt a surge of triumph: he knew the answer. Stoichiometry was what he’d been reviewing with Mr. Granger just before the teacher had revealed himself as Dr. X. Fisher did some quick calculations in his head and tapped in the answer on the keyboard. The terminal made a pinging sound, and a second question appeared.

“Looks like lyrics to one of your songs, Kevin,” Fisher said. “With a bunch of blank spots.”

Fisher got out of the way as Kevin Keels crouched down and filled in the blanks as fast as he could. Dr. Devilish could no longer stand up straight. The room was getting stuffier and hotter, and Fisher felt the sweat running down his back.

“Okay!” Keels said. “It’s, uh … it’s a question about fashionable canine ortho … orthodontitis …”

“Orthodontics,” Fisher corrected him.

“Dog braces?” Amanda piped up. “They make those?”

“Out of my way,” GG McGee said, almost throwing herself down to the keyboard. She took a few seconds to parse through the question before her hands flew over the keyboard, landing on the keys like a hard rain. “Done! Now what’s this?… A question about different varieties of hair gel!”

Dr. Devilish dropped from his knees to his stomach
and read through the questions. Fisher was hunched over already when he felt the ceiling touch the back of his neck. He went down to his knees, his breathing getting shallower.

“Please hurry, please hurry,” said Keels, lying on his back, his eyes frozen on the ceiling as it descended. Fisher felt the ceiling brush against his hair and went down to his stomach.

“Please shut up so I can concentrate,” Dr. Devilish replied. He took a deep breath, and hammered the keyboard like he was trying to tattoo his answer into it.

Fisher’s eyes were shut tight, his arms wrapped around FP.

The clicking stopped.

He opened his eyes as the ceiling retreated upward. Then a portion of the wall shuddered downward like a drawbridge, revealing an open path through the forest.

Dazed, they ventured carefully out into the open, eyes darting back and forth, searching for movement. But the robots had either given up the chase or were deep in hiding.

Fisher’s mind was spinning. He thought about the computer panel and its series of questions. “A test,” he said grimly. “There was a test for each of us. Whoever this guy is, he knows a lot about us. He must have been watching us for years.…”

“Why wasn’t I tested?” Amanda said.

“Because you weren’t supposed to be here,” Fisher said. An awful coldness settled in the pit of his stomach. Amanda had almost been squeezed to death by an android, slashed to pieces by steel trees, and crushed to pulp by the trap room—all because he’d asked her to come with him.

As though sensing what he was thinking, Amanda reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered. He managed a faint smile in her direction.

Cautiously, the group advanced along a trail cut conveniently into the artificial wilderness, until they reached a thirty-foot-deep chasm that stretched along in both directions.

“Welcome to my moat,” boomed out the unseen Producer, making everybody jump.

“Aren’t moats supposed to have water in them?” Amanda shouted, struggling to look defiant.

“When you fall thirty feet onto solid steel, the water isn’t really necessary, except perhaps to clean up the mess,” the Producer replied in an amused voice. “As you may have noticed, I have recalled my little … 
friends
for the time being.”

Fisher thought of the army of metal monsters and shivered.

“Your next challenge is to get across the moat,” continued the Producer. “But I’m warning you—the patience of my little creations won’t last forever, so I’d get on with it.”

They looked across the gap. It was more than half as wide as it was deep—more than wide enough to stop even the most reckless person from attempting to jump it. Both sides of the chasm were lined with smaller trees that appeared to be mere scenery; thankfully, they weren’t outfitted with blades or whirling branches.

Fisher felt FP tugging on him by a dangling backpack strap.

“Not now, boy,” he said. “I’m trying to figure out how to get across.” FP tugged more insistently. “Seriously, FP, now is not the …” he trailed off. “My bag!” He unslung his backpack from his shoulders, and rifled through its contents.

“Thanks, boy. You’re more helpful than I give you credit for.” FP snorted and looked as pleased with himself as a pig could look.

“Amanda?” Fisher said excitedly. “I think I can get us across the gap, but I’ll need your help.”

“As usual,” she replied. Fisher was about to issue a new string of apologies, but when he looked up he saw a small, teasing smile on her face. “What’s the plan?”

Fisher pulled his stretch necktie out of the bag. “This will serve as a zip line,” he said. “We can stretch it from
one side of the moat to the other. But first somebody needs to cross. That’s where
these
come in.” He pulled out his specially engineered socks. “They’ll absorb the shock of the fall and let you jump-bounce to the other side.… I’d do it, but I’m not very athletic,” he added apologetically.

“That’s an understatement,” Amanda said, rolling her eyes. She was already pulling off her own shoes and socks and tugging on the jump-socks.

Fisher and Dr. Devilish tied one end of the necktie securely to a tree, and Amanda took the other end in her hand. With a simple nod and no hesitation, she leapt into the pit. She landed squarely on her feet. The socks absorbed the force of the fall and redirected it into the steel floor so that Amanda was catapulted upward. She landed neatly on the other side. Working quickly, she located another tree and tied it off.

“Wow,” Dr. Devilish said. “Nice socks.”

“Thanks,” Fisher said. “After a while, I got tired of always having to ask someone to reach the tall shelves for me.”

“Now what?” GG said. “Do you expect us to shimmy across?”

“Nope,” Fisher said. “I expect us to slide.” With that, he pulled the bow-tie version of his stretchy ties from his bag.

“What’s that?” Keels asked.

“Style,” Fisher said as Dr. Devilish nodded approvingly. “Or at least, it was, at some point in history. But it’s also strong enough to hold us.”

He bit his lip and drew Dr. Devilish a little ways away from the others. “Do you want to double-check my weight calculations?” he asked in a low voice.

“Your …?” Dr. Devilish shook his head. “I … uh … I’m afraid … well, contractually speaking …” He took a deep breath. “Look, kid, I can’t calculate my way out of the checkout line at a grocery store. I’m … I’m not a scientist.” He let out a long sigh. “Never have been. In fact, I’m not even a decent actor. I got this
Strange Science
gig because of my looks—and my dazzling smile.” He flashed his famous smile at the group, and Fisher had to admit, it
was
impressive. Then his face fell again. “This gig is all I have. Please don’t tell anyone.”

Dr. Devilish looked so earnest, Fisher couldn’t even be angry with him. “Your secret’s safe with me,” he said, and Dr. Devilish looked relieved. Then Fisher turned back to the rest of the group. “Okay, guys. We’ll just have to risk it. I’ll go first.”

He put his bag back on, put FP into it, tied the bow tie around the necktie, took hold of it with both hands, and with a running jump, slid across the chasm on the makeshift zip line. When he reached the other side he turned and sent the bow tie hurtling back.

Keels crossed next, blubbering and moaning the whole time. Dr. Devilish was preparing to make his crossing when a motion to Fisher’s right made him whip around.
He squinted into the foliage, he felt his hair stand up as he saw, or thought he saw, his own eyes looking back at him.

“Two?” he said, stepping forward. “Two, is that you?” But the leaves closed in, and the eyes vanished.

“Did you see that?” he asked Amanda.

“See what?” She frowned at him.

He shook his head. Maybe he’d been seeing things.

A piercing scream cut through the air. Fisher turned to see that the tie had come unknotted from the far side of the chasm. GG, the last to cross, was dangling from one end of the tie, shrieking and kicking, gripping the necktie for dear life. The fall wouldn’t kill her, but she could easily break an ankle or an arm, and any injury in this death maze could prove fatal to the whole party. Fisher hurried over and helped Amanda and Dr. Devilish hoist her up as Kevin Keels stood behind them, quivering and sweating.

With all five people—and one pig—finally across, FP sniffed around and made a couple of quick squeaks at Fisher. He was leading the way. Maybe, Fisher thought, he would lead them to an exit. Sure enough, a path opened in the trees in front of them. There was nothing to do but go forward.

The path ended at the base of a massive stone building.
It was made of what looked like cream-colored stone and constructed in a series of steplike levels, much like a Mayan pyramid. The stairs ascended almost all the way up the pyramid, but came to an end at the second-highest level. There was no apparent way to reach the top level.

After what seemed like forever, they finished their climb. They all stopped and looked around, not quite sure what to do next. They could see the sprawling metal jungle below them and the pyramid’s unreachable triangular top above them, but no obvious route of escape.

Fisher noticed that the top level of the pyramid was actually a film production booth, surrounded by opaque glass, and encircled with its own narrow balcony, but it was just high enough to be out of reach, even for Dr. Devilish.

“Congratulations,” said the Producer over the speaker system. “You’ve reached the end of the obstacle course. I should warn you, however, that your trials and troubles aren’t over; in fact, they’ve hardly begun. But before I send you all to your doom I think it’s at least polite for me to introduce myself.”

A door hissed open in the side of the production booth, and a small man emerged, looking down at them from his high perch.

Fisher’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes felt like they would freeze solid and fall out of his face.

The man stood with his arms clasped behind his back. He wore an all-black jumpsuit with black, thick-soled boots, and tight, black leather gloves. His thin, dark hair was slicked back from a broad forehead that overlooked a long, hawk-like nose.

Harold Granger. Known otherwise as Dr. X.

CHAPTER 19