The Paladin Prophecy (53 page)

“Oh, dear,” said Brooke.

“Where were you born, Nick?” asked Will.

“Boston.”

“Elise?”

“Seattle.”

“Ajay?”

“In Atlanta, although my parents lived in Raleigh at the time. Something to do with where our obstetrician worked, I believe.”

“Dallas,” said Brooke.

“Lyle was born in Boston,” said Will. “What about Ronnie?”

“Chicago,” said Elise.

“The NSEA has six offices,” said Will. “All in federal buildings around the country: Boston, Seattle, Atlanta, Dallas, Los Angeles, and Chicago.”

“All big cities,” said Ajay. “That could easily be a coincidence.”

“Where were you born, Will?” asked Elise.

“Albuquerque, New Mexico,” said Will. “That’s what my parents told me.”

“Albuquerque’s not on the list,” said Nick.

“Just because they told me that doesn’t mean it’s true,” said Will. “Ajay, would you mind pulling up Ronnie’s video? I want your isolated image of that silver box. This part came to me in a dream I had this morning. A dream about an egg.”

On his tablet, Ajay quickly retrieved an image of the metallic case with THE PALADIN PROPHECY engraved on its cover above the Roman numerals.

“Look at the Roman numerals,” said Will. “I think this means that the Prophecy started in 1990. Lyle told me that if I wanted to know about the Prophecy, I needed to start with the clinics.”

“What kind of clinics?” asked Elise.

“Look at the
second
number,” said Will, pointing to the
IV
after the numbers for 1990.

“Roman numeral four,” said Nick.

“But we were wrong about that,” said Will. “There’s no line across the top or bottom like the other figures. It’s not the
number
4 because this isn’t a numeral. These are the letters
IV
.”

“Okay, so what?” asked Nick.

“It’s a common abbreviation,” said Will. “Used in medicine.”

“Intravenous?” asked Brooke.

“In vitro,”
said Will.

“Which means ‘in the glass,’ or test tube,” said Ajay, accessing his prodigious memory. “A medical procedure often conducted in fertility clinics to help couples who can’t get pregnant. Couples who often end up with only one child. A procedure that entered the medical mainstream about 1990.”

No one spoke. A log popped loudly in the fire and everyone jumped.

“Dude … what does this have to do with an egg?” asked Nick.

“You’re not seriously suggesting we might all have been …,” said Brooke.

“I am so way beyond grossed out,” said Elise, frozen.

“Lyle said we were
all
the Prophecy,” said Will.

“Okay, I have no idea what we’re talking about,” said Nick.

“In vitro fertilization,” said Ajay impatiently. “Wherein an egg is extracted from a woman’s ovaries and fertilized by sperm from her spouse or a donor. Two or three days later, after replicating into a zygote of six to eight cells, the growing embryo is reintroduced to the woman’s womb. Leading, in approximately thirty-five percent of cases, to successful pregnancy. In vitro fertilization.”

“If Will’s right,” said Elise, explaining softly to Nick, “it means we’re test-tube babies.”

Nick’s face scrunched up. “Eww,” he said.

“And maybe more than that,” said Will. “Lyle said one other thing. Four letters: ATCG. Do any of you know what that means?”

“Adenine. Cytosine. Guanine. Thymine,” said Ajay. “The four basic nucleotides, the building blocks of DNA.”

“Genetic—in vitro—manipulation,” said Elise, turning pale.

Ajay fell back into the cushions. Nick fanned himself with a pillow.

“Special abilities,” said Brooke.

“I think it happened secretly,” said Will. “Your parents probably weren’t aware of it, although I think mine may have been. Whoever was in charge tracked us over time, then used these ‘random’ tests to see if whatever changes they’d manipulated were … awake. Then they brought us here.”

“We’re the Paladins,” whispered Ajay, looking stunned.

“I know how crazy this sounds,” said Will, pacing again. “I’m not claiming it’s true; I’m just laying it out there. A theory, that’s all. A theory I’m more than happy to see disproved. And if it isn’t true—if it’s completely, totally insane—it won’t take long to find out.”

“So where did this all start?” asked Brooke. “Who’s responsible for the Prophecy?”

“I don’t know where it started,” said Will. “The Caps, the Knights, and the Never-Was are involved somehow … but it sure seems to be ending up here.”

“But if they wanted you at the Center, why were the Caps trying to kill you?” asked Elise.

“I don’t know that either,” said Will.
Unless it’s because, like Dave said, I’m an Initiate
.

“So it seems the crucial question facing us now,” said Ajay, “is what, if anything, does the Center have to do with the Paladin Prophecy?”

“That sounds right,” said Will.

“But if it
is
true, what is it all for?” asked Brooke emotionally. “Why would they do something this twisted to anybody?”

Will took her hand. “We’re going to find that out,” he said simply. “All of us.”

“How many of … ‘us’ are we?” asked Elise.

“For now, the five of us in this room,” said Will.

“How can we verify that this genetic theory is true?” asked Ajay.

“There’s one obvious place to start,” said Will. “Drop the idea into a conversation with your parents. See what they say, decide what you think.”

“Okay,” said Ajay, a little shaky, looking at the others.

“You can also, really quietly, ask Dr. Kujawa to run tests on you,” said Will. “He was amazed by what he found with me and told me the truth about it. Maybe he finds something that helps us rule this out. Either way, it can’t hurt to check.”

“Word,” said Nick.

“Ajay, there’s something else you can do,” said Will. “First thing tomorrow, grab a note from a teacher for the Rare Book Archive. Read everything you can find about the Knights of Charlemagne, the Crag, and how they picked the school mascot before anyone has a chance to get rid of it.”

“Dude, build a spy camera,” said Nick.

“He won’t need a camera,” said Will. “Any more than I needed a horse.”

“Correct,” said Ajay, a smile dawning.

Tika knocked on the door, then stuck her head in and said to Brooke, “Car’s here for you, Miss Springer. Your parents are downstairs.”

Brooke explained that her parents had flown in from Washington. They’d decided it was best for her to spend a few days at home in Virginia before returning to class. She collected her bag, then gave everyone a hug. Will walked her out the door and into the corridor. Brooke dropped her bag, grabbed Will, and kissed him.

“Call me,” she said breathlessly. “Text me or email me or—”

“Okay,” he said between kisses.

“Don’t let an hour go by without letting me know what’s going on, what you know, and how you are.” Then with a sweet whispered goodbye and a heady rush of freshly washed hair, she was gone.

Will walked back inside and closed the door. The rest of them stared at the grin on his face, then pretended to find something else to look at. Elise, who knew
exactly
what he was thinking, turned away and crossed her arms.

“Dudes, we need a name for … whatever we are,” said Nick, climbing back into his wheelchair. “The Resistance or … wait for it”—Nick lowered his voice dramatically—“the
Awesome
Resistance.”

“Thanks for playing, Nick,” said Elise.

“The Alliance,” said Ajay.

“The Alliance,” said Elise, trying it out.

“What do you think, Will?” asked Nick.

“I’m sorry, what?” asked Will, looking up as if just realizing they were there.

“Never mind.” Elise scowled.

Will yawned. “I need to sleep now,” he said.

Nick gave him a fist bump, and Elise held his hand for a thoughtful moment; then Will headed for his room. Ajay followed him to his door.

“I didn’t have a chance to tell you,” said Ajay. “I found your iPhone where you said it would be in Lyle’s office. The police were driving up as I came out. It’s under your mattress. As a precaution, I removed its GPS transmitter.”

“Great job, Ajay,” said Will. “You’re the man.”

“No,” said Ajay. “I believe it’s safe to say that would be
you
, my friend. And I remain, sir, entirely at your service.”

Will smiled, took the dark glasses out of his pocket, and handed them to Ajay. “When you get a chance, take a look at these. We’re all going to need a pair.”

DECISION

Will found his iPhone where Ajay had stashed it, under the mattress. It felt good to feel its familiar contours in his hands again, but also sobering and sad, this artifact from his former life. Will sat on the edge of his bed. He looked at his parents’ photograph in its cracked frame. He picked up from the table Dad’s tattered book of rules and opened to the first page:

The Importance of an Orderly Mind
.

Sticking with the rules had kept him alive this far. Had he been a little lucky? No doubt. And he knew enough to know he couldn’t count on that from here on out.

#7: DON’T CONFUSE GOOD LUCK WITH A GOOD PLAN.

He flipped the book to the final page, and the last rule Dad had written: OPEN ALL DOORS, AND AWAKEN.

The biggest question Will had been unable to answer: How did his dad know about the Prophecy? Because it was clear that his parents had known, or they wouldn’t have spent his whole life watching so closely for signs of his Awakening, then training and preparing him the way they did. But why that meant they had to keep him hidden while living like fugitives was another mystery.

He had to face the possibility that he’d never be able to ask Dad about it. He might never see either of them again. Who was going to take care of him now if they had been on that plane, or even if they hadn’t been? In the clear, cold, practical part of his mind, he knew that he’d have to do it, for the most part, by himself now.

Didn’t everybody, sooner or later, once you stared down the barrel of whatever form the truth is hiding in? We’re born; we die. In between you make the best of what’s handed to you, and you love the people closest to you.

What else is there?

At least he
had
friends now. But who could he turn to for answers to these big questions, the ones his parents had always guided him through before? Dave had been that guy, but he might be gone now, too. Could anybody, even a kick-ass Special Forces Wayfarer, come back from the Never-Was?

Will took out the dice from his pocket and looked at them. Black, with white dots. He
wanted
to believe these were the same unearthly devices Dave had shown him, but they looked and felt like regular dice. A little heavier and denser, maybe.

Without his realizing he’d moved, Will’s head eased down to the pillow. His orderly mind winked off as quickly as if he’d tugged a string to turn off a light.

Moments or hours later, Will heard a soft
bing
. He opened his eyes and saw his tablet on the desk, the screen turned toward him. The Center’s screen saver crest was bouncing gently from one side to the other.

He had no sense of how long he’d been out, but it was dark outside. Will glanced at his phone, still cupped in his hand: almost seven in the evening. Sunday. Still Sunday. The tablet sounded that gentle tone again. Will rubbed his eyes, walked over, sat at his desk, and touched the screen.

His syn-app appeared in his “room” and waved to him, smiling. “You’re not alone, Will,” said his syn-app. “And you never will be. Not while I’m around.”

“Thanks,” said Will dryly. “You’re a real pal.”

“You’ve been gone quite a while.”

“What, I’m supposed to keep you informed of my whereabouts now?”

“Not at all,” said the syn-app. “I was just worried about you.”

Will looked at his little double closely. “You sound like you mean it,” he said.

“I do.”

“Why should I believe you?” asked Will.

“If you can’t trust yourself, Will,” said his syn-app with a smile, “who can you trust? Would you like to see the photograph I found for you?”

“I’m sorry, which photograph?” asked Will sleepily.

“Of the helicopter.”

The screen filled with the hazy washed-out colors of ancient Kodachrome. A dynamic captured moment: An airfield, full of movement, a couple of helicopters lifting off and another in the air, closer to the camera, tilting in for a landing. A tropical jungle in the background framed the asphalt landing strip. An explosion bloomed above the palm trees.

A credit line along the bottom margin of the photo read
The Battle for Pleiku, Vietnam/New York Times, September 14, 1969
.

In the foreground, a soldier ran toward the landing chopper, his back to the camera. A tall man with big, broad shoulders, wearing fatigues and a worn leather flight jacket. Three round patches were sewn onto the back.

The first had a red kangaroo with the words SPECIAL FORCES below it. Beside that was the helmeted head of a knight and the words LONG-RANGE RECONNAISSANCE.

In the third patch were the silhouette of a helicopter and the words ANZAC/VIETNAM. Below that were the same call letters that Will had seen on Dave’s flight jacket: ATD39Z.

The man’s right arm was raised high in the air. It looked like he was hailing or signaling urgently to the pilot of the chopper just above him.

Holding up all five fingers.

That’s five
.

In the caves, Dave never had a chance to say that before the wendigo took him. Was he saying it here, after the fact? Will’s heart leaped at the idea.

His eyes shot to the two dice sitting on his desk. The dots were glowing. As Will watched, the dice lifted off the surface and spun slowly … until a three and a two were facing him.

“That’s five,” whispered Will. “And it’s good to be alive.”

For the first time since leaving home, he
believed
it.

Will looked back at the photo. “In case I don’t see you again,” he said, “thanks for everything, mate.”