Fallout (Lois Lane) (14 page)

“They’d have to be, to manage this in such a short amount of time,” Devin said, and the words were fainter than when he’d spoken before. Shell-shocked, like he was beginning to understand the extent of the destruction.

“It wasn’t like anything I thought possible in here. They were so much stronger, working in better coordination with each other than the other night, even,” SmallvilleGuy said. “I did manage to talk one of your dragons into chasing them off. That’s where the fire came from.”

Devin squinted, no doubt reading SmallvilleGuy’s stats.

Good luck
.
You’ll never figure out who he is
.

“Since when can friendly aliens talk to dragons?” Devin asked.

SmallvilleGuy rubbed his chin, looking embarrassed. “Since one found a cache of uber-secret cheat codes buried in threads on a private developer forum for game architects and workers.”

I knew what that meant. He’d managed to do some more research. His friend from the boards had come through. Nice. “You find anything else usefully cheat-y?”

“Just more of the same type of . . . thing we talked about the other night. R&D project rumors.”

Devin wasn’t paying attention to us, though. He was wandering toward the remains of his castle. SmallvilleGuy and I trailed after him more slowly.

My cheeks still felt warm and I decided it must be from the fact that everything around us was on fire. Yes, that was it. Definitely.

SmallvilleGuy was my friend. We were
just friends
.

“So I guess they’re talking to you again? That’s a good sign,” he said. “I’m glad you have backup out there. The Warheads . . . they really were in rare form when I saw them. And there’s something else. I hate to be the one to tell you. But did you happen to see Anavi today?”

“She was with them, wasn’t she? I know already. They got to her. I saw her with them this morning. I failed her, and I think we both know who’s likely to be next.”

We gazed at the wreck in front of us. Devin stood in front of the tower, his head craned back to take in the flag, his posture resounding with defeat.

“They were strong and they’ll be back,” SmallvilleGuy said. “I doubt Daisy can hold them off for long.”

“Daisy?” I asked.

“The dragon. She did say Devin didn’t like other people to know he named her that, so maybe keep it to yourself.”

I found that I was smiling at him, without even intending to. Despite the fact that the world was literally burning around us and everything was awful. I couldn’t help it.

“I’m a vault,” I said. “What other secrets do you have?”

I regretted it as soon as the words left my lips, knew he’d misinterpreted them by the way his expression changed. A subtle closing down and shutting me out. The graphics in this game were
too
good, sometimes.

Did he look like that every night when I asked who he was?

“That’s not what I meant,” I said, but my smile was gone. “Anything else about our bad guys?”

“Oh,” he said, kicking aside a piece of rubble. “
TheInventor
, my buddy I told you about, vouched to get me registered on that private site for developers so I could see any relevant discussions—lucky for me they didn’t require the same kind of proof you did. He pointed me to some chatter about a project at Advanced Research Labs, a study of team dynamics and how to enhance them using real-sim technology.”

“Signs point to Project Hydra,” I said.

“Seems likely. The results so far are getting high marks from the boss, but one of the researcher guys actually running it came from the game company and was talking about it with some of his former co-workers from there on the site. All in vague terms, but it was clear that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea. He won’t say why out in the open though. I did gather that their boss has the research team gearing up for a presentation soon to some sort of potential buyer. I still don’t know exactly what it is.” He paused. “Lois, are you going after them alone?”

My heart kicked in my chest, and I felt ridiculous again.

“I won’t do anything I don’t have to.”

It was the best I could do.

“Fair enough,” he said. “Though I guess this means you’re giving up on staying out of trouble.”

I stopped walking. We were almost to Devin, and he was looking for a clear path into the wreckage.

I turned to SmallvilleGuy. “What can I say? Every time I try to walk away, I run right into it instead.”

But he would see through that, wouldn’t he? Me playing it off like it didn’t bother me.

Yes, he would. He did.

“Lois, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I know. I think this is just who I am. I’m never going to fit in anywhere. I’ll always be . . . different.”

“Is that so bad?” he asked.

And he waited for the answer, like it mattered to him too. Through his glasses, I saw that his eyes were blue. Kind and blue. These graphics were good, but were they accurate? Of course his skin wasn’t green outside the game, but were his eyes that same blue?

I’d be more than okay with it, if they were.

“No,” I said, finally, “I don’t guess it’s such a bad thing to be different.”

His lips tilted up in a smile, a small one, like another secret between us. He was about to say something else, and I wanted to know what it was so badly I was afraid to breathe, afraid I might miss it. I leaned in toward him, so I could hear better, squinting against the smoke.

But whatever it was got lost. His smile dropped away, and what he said instead was: “They’re back.”

CHAPTER 18

Anavi wasn’t just one of the pack.
She was at the front of the loping formation. But even in here there wasn’t anything else to distinguish her from the rest. Gone were her camouflage and grenades with words on them—she was in black and armed beyond all reason, like the squadron arrayed around and behind her.

An angry red dragon flew over their heads, screeching bloodiest murder. Missiles were mounted under the sprawl of her wings.

That must be the famous Daisy.

SmallvilleGuy called up to her. “Good girl, Daisy! Let them have it!”

So much for keeping the name quiet.

Devin stalked out of the crumbled arch that used to be the entrance to his castle. He wasn’t alone. He brought a small-in-number but large-in-size army with him.

Two elephants, draped in robes printed with his silhouette, lifted their massive trunks to trumpet loud displeasure. Behind them came some sort of winged creatures, part eagle and part lion, with fearsome talons that hovered a few feet off the ground as their feathered wings beat to hold them aloft. Baby trolls—they were much smaller than the one Anavi had taken down, so I assumed these were babies—rode on top of the beasts and swung clubs or strung bows.

“They didn’t find the hidden entrance to the mine tunnels beneath the tower,” Devin said. “That’s where I keep most of my troops.” He looked smug as the ground shook again, but this time under the weight of the feet of his soldiers.

I would never understand all the ins and outs of this game.

Daisy landed on Devin’s other side and breathed a fresh round of fire at the attackers.

“The flying things that aren’t dragons are . . . ?” I asked.

Devin blinked. “Oh, my griffins. Awesome, right?”

The prospect of battle seemed to have revived him from his earlier defeat. For the moment.

But the Warheads had gathered extra gear and munitions of their own while they were gone. A shimmering white force field popped into existence around them.

“Enchanted ice barrier,” SmallvilleGuy said. “This is bad. It’s probably the only thing besides a fortified alien aircraft that your army can’t penetrate.”

“Crap,” Devin said. “You’re right.”

Devin waved his arm to indicate to his troops that they should retreat. The creatures milled around us, the dragon screeching in protest. But he was still their royal commander-in-chief. Devin raised his other arm and waved once more for them to go, and that did it.

Even if they didn’t want to, the trolls fell back, taking their mounts with them. The elephants lumbered along last, one looking back and trumpeting a final threat.

I realized something. When the Warheads had come after Anavi in the game, the only thing they bothered with was stealth and brute strength. There had been little finesse to the attack. But if they’d managed to bring the only weapon Devin couldn’t stand up to, that indicated a more, well,
strategic
kind of strategy.

“They’re smarter, aren’t they?” I asked. “It must be because they have Anavi.”

“Maybe,” SmallvilleGuy said, nodding. “More brainpower.”

“They can share resources. Not brains,” Devin said. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about, but we need to get out of here. Retreat’s the only option for now.”

It was clear that behind the ice barrier, the Warheads were prepping some sort of new weapons. Weapons that undoubtedly would hurt as bad as or worse than that screaming bullet wound to my shoulder the other day. SmallvilleGuy never had said if or where he’d been hit.

Painful memory or not, I didn’t like the idea of fleeing the scene. “We can’t just let them win. If we leave your castle undefended, they’ll destroy it completely.”

“We have to,” Devin said.

The certainty in his voice killed me. I didn’t want him to give up so quickly. It was my fault this was happening. Mine and the Warheads and whoever had made them this way.

“Any cheat codes?” I asked SmallvilleGuy.

“I’m out of any that would help here.” He said it with regret. Like disappointing me was as much a disappointment to him as anything else could be.

And that’s when I knew we were out of options. Officially.

“Then we have to go,” I said. “If there’s no chance of winning. I don’t want to get shot again for kicks.”

The Warheads’ ice barrier collapsed and Daisy breathed another round of fire. That bought the three of us a few final moments to close our eyes, ground back into our actual bodies, and reach up to turn off our holosets.

The last thing I saw in the game was SmallvilleGuy, moving his body to shield mine from whatever the bad guys were about to lob our way, as he lifted his own hand to his ear—no doubt in and outside the game. Somehow I knew he wouldn’t stick around there once Devin and I were gone, and out of harm’s way.

Back in the real world, it took a few moments—I couldn’t have said how many—to feel like I was here instead of there. The same seemed to be true for Devin. He blinked at me without quite focusing.

Maddy laid her hands on my shoulders, giving me a little shake. “What was happening? We’re dying in here. We could only hear your sides of the conversation.”

“We’re okay, I think.” I lightly shrugged Maddy’s hands off and stood. “Devin, I’m so sorry for what they did. I can’t believe . . .”

“Yeah,” he said, dazed, “me either. That was two years of work. Gone.”

“You still have your troll army and the griffins and the elephants,” I said.

“For now.”

“I am not following any of this,” Maddy said.

“Neither am I,” James put in.

“Anavi and the Warheads attacked us, but they’d done way worse before we got there,” I said. “They took Devin’s castle apart brick by brick.”

“Ancient stone by ancient stone,” Devin corrected. “They must have used explosives.”

“Devin has a castle? What kind?” Maddy asked.

“Never mind,” Devin said, and I stayed quiet. “It’s no big thing. I’ll rebuild later.”

He didn’t sound so convinced. And I knew it
was
a big thing. Two years was a long time to spend building something to have it torn down in an afternoon with no warning.

Then there was Anavi, her personality gone.

But not for good. I won’t let any of this be for good.

Devin said, “Thank your friend for me. It would have been worse if he hadn’t helped out.”

“What friend?” James asked. “Is that the other person you were talking to? The one you told you’d never . . .”

My cheeks were definitely burning, and not the elvish ones. They’d heard my side of the conversation with SmallvilleGuy. About how I’d never fit in. About how being different wasn’t so bad.

“Never. Mind.” I examined my desk so I wouldn’t have to face them. “We have a plan for Monday. This weekend we’ll use for intel and lying low. Let them think they have the upper hand.”

The Warheads probably did have it, but I expected someone to respond to me and agree. When no one did, I looked up to see why. The others were staring at the door to the Morgue.

I turned and discovered that Perry was standing there.

Next to my father.

Dad was in his full regalia. He stuck out in the dim, dusty cavern of the office like a heroically sore thumb.

“You won’t be doing anything this weekend, Lois,” he said. “You’re grounded.”

My hand went to my hip. “What are you doing here?”

The others were gawking at me like I might be crazy.

Oh, right.
He was in full intimidation mode, wasn’t he? Even Perry was subdued.

“Your dad wanted to chat, make sure I was aware of the situation,” Perry said. “He wanted to discuss the timeline for following up on Principal Butler and Anavi Singh’s complaints.”

“I bet he did.”

“Lois,” Dad said. He was using his warning tone.

Fine, I had one of those too. “Dad.”

“You can get your things together. Perry assured me that he takes this all seriously, and that if the allegations are true that this—” he glanced around, searching for a word, and I had to admit the office probably made the
Scoop
look like it wasn’t much. But it
was.
Appearances were deceptive. “—this
outfit
will be disbanded.”

So he’d settled on outfit. As if my job was a dress or some random clothes I picked up on a shopping spree at the mall.

He went on, “You’ll spend the weekend thinking about that instead of trying to get the upper hand at whatever you’re up to.”

Aha. Bingo. Eureka. What he was doing became as clear as the crystal James’s family no doubt used at the dinner table.

This was his next move in our battle.

“You’re shortening my timeline. You know the less time I have to do legwork, the less likely I am to prove my story was right.” I whirled to my desk and picked up my phone, taking the time to text
Grounded
in the app with my right hand while I fumbled around with my left to cover what I was doing. Then I logged out. I never knew how snoopy my parents were going to get when they were mad at me.

And I wasn’t sure Dad had ever been this mad before.

Picking up my bag, I jammed in some random papers before heading his way. “This is very nice of you, Dad. Very supportive.”

He sighed, a sound of pure frustration. “Lois, I
am
supportive . . . of you making a fresh start here. We talked about you staying out of trouble. It sounds like you’re using this job to do what you always do.”

Yeah, we had talked about it. But it wasn’t my fault that I wasn’t willing to stand by and let bad things happen unchecked.
He
should understand that as well as anyone.

Why couldn’t he seem to?

I ignored him, stopping in front of Perry. “Mr. White . . . Perry . . . sir, don’t worry. I take the
Daily Planet
’s reputation seriously and I know the
Scoop
reflects on it. It won’t be damaged, not by me. Even if he seals me up in a closet all weekend.”

So the last part was a little grumbly. Sue me.

Perry’s eyes widened with alarm. But when he spoke, the words were simple. And oh-so-important to me.

“I believe you,” he said.

This was more than progress, after how he’d flipped the day before. It was enough to carry me out of the office with my dad.

Dad could try to shackle me all he wanted. It wouldn’t work.

*

Or maybe it would.

As soon as we walked through the front door at home, he held out his hand and said, “Phone,” waiting until I placed mine in his palm. This was after a long, tense, silent car ride home.

Mom was coming off the bottom of the stairs into the living room. She carried my laptop with her.

I bit my lip against a protest that would give away how much I didn’t want them anywhere near my computer. The passwords should be uncrackable, even if they tried to get on it. But this would mean no chats with SmallvilleGuy all weekend long.

No intel. No nothing.

Good thing I had proposed lying low until Monday. “You’re seriously taking all my stuff? How am I supposed to get anything done?”

Dad said, “You can do your homework in longhand. You can’t have that much to do after just a week. Grounded means no contact with the outside world. It means thinking about what kind of life you should be making for yourself. Lois, I know at sixteen it seems like you have all the time in the world, but before you know it—before your mom and I do—you’ll be in college. You’ll be out on your own.”

“Right now I’m counting the seconds until that sweet, sweet freedom is mine.”

“We only want what’s best for you,” he said.

“No,” I said, “I think you just want me to be someone else. Someone I can’t be.”

I started for the stairs, slipping past my mom. I turned back to them. “If you really think what I’ve done is so bad . . . Dad, go read the comments. On the story at the
Scoop
page. Read the comments and see if you think that it didn’t need to be told, that there was no merit to it. I did not lie. Perry believes me. It’s too bad you can’t bring yourself to.”

I pounded the rest of the way up the steps, only slowing when Lucy peeked out of her bedroom door, making puppy-dog eyes. I paused to brush my hand across the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere—really, I’m grounded, not being sent away,” I reassured her. “Don’t worry.”

And I finished the journey to my room across the hall, shut and locked my door.

My parents might be able to prevent me from reaching the outside world, but I would also keep them out of mine.

One way or another.

*

I had plenty to keep me busy. Plotting, worrying, planning, more worrying.

First, I plugged Maddy’s tiny MP3 player into my docking station, and I listened to the playlist she’d put together. She really did have excellent taste. It proved to be a nice mix of arty ballads that captured my frustration at being trapped in my room along with punk and hip-hop influenced anthems I jumped around to, raging against the injustice of same.

Then I spent more time plotting. I might have been forbidden access to my phone and outside assistance, but giving a girl time to think . . . that was turning out to be useful after all. As had the stationery set my parents gave me for my eleventh birthday, in case I wanted to write any of my old friends. Was it a coincidence that year had been my first foray into calls home from school because I was in trouble?

Not likely. Even back then, I’d been fighting for someone else. The first time the school had called home to complain about my behavior was when a teacher mispronounced the word “massacre” as if it ended “cree” and a straight-A student named Angie corrected her. The teacher had flipped out and sentenced Angie to lose her recess time for a week. I knew massacre was pronounced “mass-a-ker” from the military history shows Dad loved to watch, and so added my voice of support to Angie’s.

That had gone over well.

Anyway, now I used the pastel pink stationery that had been given to me soon after to write a heartwarming note of apology to deliver to Principal Butler on Monday—something I projected would come in handy at getting him off my back. If only temporarily.