The Search for Artemis (The Chronicles of Landon Wicker) (36 page)

“You should worry, too.” Brock chimed in on their conversation as he walked past on his way to his locker. Without turning to speak, he added, “Especially on this mission.”

“Why’s that?” Cortland inquired.

Brock slipped off his shoes and removed his shirt. “Because latest intel said they think she works for Metis Labs, and where are we headed tonight?”

“Well, then I take back what I said, Apollo. Maybe you do have to worry about running into Artemis tonight.”

Landon was speechless. He’d been going about his search all wrong. Every woman on his list of suspects was someone within the Gymnasium. When Dr. Pullman said to find her, he figured she had to be someone he had access to, but as it turned out, Artemis was someone who operated on the outside. Finding her just became more complicated.

“Hey, why haven’t I heard about her before?” Landon asked. “I’ve been on the Pantheon for almost six months. Why haven’t you guys mentioned it until now?”

“Because, roomie, until today you weren’t actually a member of the Pantheon.” Brock replied bluntly. “Stuff about missions or Artemis or anything for that matter is meant for active team members, not trainees.”

“It’s Apollo, not roomie, and I’m not a trainee anymore,” Landon said combatively.

“And now you know, don’t you, roomie?” With his tactical uniform half on, Brock stepped directly up to Landon, towering over him.

Not backing down, Landon stood as tall as he could and glared contentiously back at Brock. “It’s Apollo,” he reiterated through gritted teeth.

Brock started to lean closer, but fell back when Dr. Brighton entered the locker room.

“All right, guys, up to the Stable ASAP. Wings up in thirty.” Dr. Brighton looked at Brock and Landon with a forceful glare. “Ares, is there a problem?” he asked.

“No, sir,” Brock replied. “No problem.”

“I didn’t think so.” The authority Dr. Brighton imposed as Zeus was unyielding and accepted without question. “Now finish suiting up and get up to the Stable.”

Leaving Brock alone in the locker room, Landon, Cortland and the Cranes made their way to the hangar a minute or two behind Dr. Brighton. As the lift stopped on the appropriate floor, Peregrine and Parker were already standing beside the
Alpha Chariot
, waiting for them to arrive.

Peregrine looked like she was made to be a spy; her cropped blonde hair slicked tightly against her skull and her body perfectly formed in the tight tactical uniform gave her a femme-fatale quality. She’d taken to the Pantheon with much more ease than Landon, and she’d proved herself to be an apt team member. She was much more adept than anyone would have thought. Although she was still not the greatest lifter, Peregrine had become a great asset when it came to stealth and agility.

As Landon got closer, he noticed she had an anxious but determined look on her face, like the wait for the mission to begin was too much for her to handle. Seeing the aircraft, Landon had a similar feeling running through his body.

It took around five minutes before Brock emerged from the locker rooms and joined the rest of the Pantheon in the hangar. They then boarded the
Alpha Chariot
and Dr. Brighton began to prime the engines. Once he’d secured himself into his seat in the back, Landon could feel the almost non-existent hum and vibration that signaled the machine’s activation.

The aircraft’s interior was like a luxurious version of what Landon had seen on military documentaries. The inner casing was composed of some smooth dark metal and covered in dials, blinking buttons and monitors displaying readings on the external environment. In two columns, five rows of individual leather seats ran down the center. They had high backs and looked sturdy yet comfortable. Everything seemed smooth and new. Trained to fly the aircraft, Dr. Brighton and Brock took the seats at the helm. The Cranes sat behind them, then Cortland and Parker, with Peregrine and Landon taking the seats toward the back.

“Whatever you do, don’t push the red button.” Cortland was looking back at Landon from his seat a row ahead. He was referring to the two buttons Landon was eyeing on the arm of his chair. There were two of them, one red and the other yellow; Landon’s finger was dangerously close to the red one. “That’s the emergency eject button. The yellow one activates your safety harnesses, so you can push that whenever you’re ready.”

Landon wondered why no one had told him these things in training yet before cautiously pressing the yellow button. The straps of a five-point harness shot out from the chair, two from above Landon’s shoulders, two from his hip and one jetted up from between his legs. Automatically, they connected at a point around his naval and tightened until he was snugly held in his chair.

A few minutes later, a powerful
ding
resonated through the cabin as a bright green light switched on overhead. It was time for takeoff. Landon looked over at Peregrine, who still had an anxious look on her face, but now it was paired with a hint of excitement in her eyes.

The feeling Landon experienced as the aircraft began to rise was akin to having his insides jerked down to the base of his stomach—it was less than pleasant. Watching their ascent through the window beside him, he took in the moment as the
Alpha Chariot
rose out of the Stable and hovered above the Gymnasium for a moment. Landon looked down on his home and reflected on the journey that led him to that point. Just nine months ago, he was sitting in his room dreading his return to high school. Now, he was sitting in an advanced government transport heading to his first mission with the Pantheon. Nine months ago he had no idea he was a psychokinetic; he had no idea what he would become.

As the steel doors on the roof of the Olympic Tower closed, the
Alpha Chariot
rotated until it was facing a southward direction. Dr. Brighton then put the aircraft into gear and they flew out of the valley into the darkness.

A SIMPLE
GRAB-AND-GO
MISSION

The entire flight to Metis Labs was silent. No one spoke to each other. While staring into the darkness below, Landon imagined that everyone had a different reason for their personal solitude. Some were probably nervous about the mission, dreaming up all sorts of improbable scenarios and figuring out what they’d do should the situation arise. Others were more than likely preoccupied with problems outside the Pantheon, worrying about boys, girls or tests but mentally unaffected by the task at hand. He hoped the reason Dr. Brighton and Brock were not talking was because they were too busy concentrating on piloting.

No matter what the others were thinking about, Landon just concentrated on the world outside the
Alpha Chariot
, fighting to see anything amidst the shadow-covered mountains and forests. At one point, he saw an orange glow on the horizon and imagined a towering city whose street lamps, buildings, and cars created the massive aura. For a minute, Landon wondered if it might’ve been his old home. It would seem strange to most, but he almost missed the constant din of the big city that he used to hear even into the late hours of the night.

After about an hour and a half, the aircraft went into its active stealth mode, sealing the windows to complete its special undetectable casing. There was no confirmation of this, but when the metal stretched over the small glass hole he’d been looking out of, Landon figured they’d entered Metis Labs airspace.

Before he knew it, Landon felt the weightless sensation that came along with the hovering descent of the
Alpha Chariot
. Once they had landed, the harness holding Landon disengaged and disappeared back into the seat. Everyone began to stir and got up from their chairs. Dr. Brighton turned from the controls and walked toward the back of the aircraft. With his hand resting on the latch release, he looked back at his team of operatives, anxious to complete another mission.

“All right, team,” he said, “we’re just over two miles from Metis Labs. Remember, this is a simple grab-and-go mission. If all goes well, we’ll be back in the air in about two hours. No one do anything foolish.”

He pressed the button and the platform dropped from behind him, creating a ramp out of the rear of the
Alpha Chariot
and onto the squishy soil of the woodland clearing.

Landon was the first to disembark, stepping onto the dark ground and awaiting the rest of his team to join him. The air was humid, almost choking him, and the intense smell of pine and wet wood consumed his senses to the point he could almost taste the forest. Apart from the delicate rustling of branches, the woods were eerily silent and the bright moon shone overhead, casting a cool blue glow over them.

“Listen up,” Dr. Brighton continued once the entire team was standing at the ready in the clearing. “These woods are thick and extremely easy to get lost in, so stay close to one another and don’t go wandering off. And now would be a good time to turn on your comm. links.”

Everyone nodded and with a quick press to the ear, activated the communication device. Without another moment to lose, Dr. Brighton lifted his arm, hand extended upward, and then motioned forward toward the woods, signaling for the team to move out.

The woods were dark, so dark in fact that it was almost impossible to see anything more than a few feet in front of them. Dr. Brighton’s pace was fast, giving Landon no time to even process what was going on around him, but rather just remain reactionary, running as close behind Jeremiah Crane as he could and leaping over fallen logs and twigs just in the nick of time.

The forest floor made their movements almost imperceptible, the dampness of the late spring ground cushioning their feet as they trekked closer and closer to the research compound hidden away in the wilderness. If it weren’t for the steady breathing and the occasional brush of a stray, low-lying branch, Landon imagined they could have stalked a wild deer without it knowing they were on its trail.

Again lost in their heads and concentrating on keeping up with Dr. Brighton, the team fell silent as they blew past tree after tree and scaled and descended the uneven terrain of the woods. As they continued through the dark, Landon’s lungs were on fire and his mouth dry to the bone. He breathed heavily in an attempt to replenish the oxygen in his body. The air was thinner than to what he was accustomed. He’d experienced something like it when he first came to the Gymnasium, but judging by his forceful inhalations, he imagined they’d ascended to an altitude much higher than the one to which he was now conditioned.

Lights began to shine through the dense forest from ahead, getting brighter and clearer with every step. Dr. Brighton stopped just before they broke through the tree line and crouched low to the forest floor. The rest of the Pantheon followed suit and hunched over behind their leader, awaiting their orders.

Metis Labs could now easily be seen before them. The complex was surrounded by a reinforced electrified fence with six guards patrolling the perimeter at all times. Standing high in the middle was the fifty-five-story cylindrical tower.

As Landon watched, he could see one of the patrol guards stop and look intently into the woods in their direction. Had the guard heard them approaching? Could he see them congregated behind the tree? But before long, the guard turned back and continued on his rounds.

“Echo,” Dr. Brighton whispered low enough so that the team could just discern what he was saying, “you’ll stay here and guide us through the complex. The rest of us, we’re going to need to move quickly and quietly.”

Everyone nodded in affirmation. Landon could feel his heart starting to beat a bit faster in his chest, just like it felt the moment before jumping off the high-dive.

“Hector, on my signal, take out the guard and bring him here. We’re going to need his access codes.”

“Gotcha,” Cortland answered as his attention turned away from the team and back at the fence. He stood tentatively, awaiting the next patrol to stroll past the area they were watching.

Peregrine whispered, “Here he comes,” and a minute later a muscular man in a dark suit walked into their line of sight.

Dr. Brighton gave the signal, and without blinking, Cortland bolted from the woods. The damp leaves swished under his feet as he took off toward his target. Landon watched nervously as Cortland raced across the grassy space between them and the guard. Cortland had his arms pulled behind him, forming a
V
shape as he leaned forward and sprinted with unbelievable speed.

The guard soon noticed Cortland racing toward him and reached for a weapon strapped to his side, but before he could pull it from its holster, Cortland made a quick motion of his arms, drawing them from behind and sweeping them forward. The telekinetic force emitted from his movement pushed the guard off his feet and caused him to collide with one of the fence’s support poles, knocking him unconscious.

Cortland ran up to the man, grabbed him by both wrists and dragged him back to the woods. When Landon got a closer look at the guard, a shiver ran through his entire body.

The motionless man wore a black suit, shiny black patent leather shoes, a crisp white shirt and a sleek black tie, and coming up from his collar was a coiled wire that reached up the side of his neck and disappeared into his ear. If it weren’t for his blonde hair, square head and clean-shaven, rigid jaw, Landon wouldn’t have recognized him. It was the same man that chased him through the city after his apocratusis.

Landon stepped back a few feet from the body, his scalp tingling and his suit feeling increasingly tighter. He closed his eyes and fought to regain his composure. He couldn’t let this affect the mission. People were counting on him, but he couldn’t deny that this discovery had shaken him.

Dr. Brighton examined the body and pat down the guard. He pulled a gun he found from the man’s holster and looked it over.

“Tranquilizer gun,” he said as he pulled a loaded round out of the firearm. Effectively disarming the weapon, Dr. Brighton tossed the gun aside but looked at the dart with more careful scrutiny.

It was small, no larger than a battery, with a sturdy metal casing protecting the vial of black poison inside and a thick one-inch needle with three small gripping prongs on the business end. Dr. Brighton then took the dart and jabbed it into the unconscious guard’s upper arm. The dart let out a hiss as it injected its contents into the man’s body. Basically pressing his nose against the man’s skin, Dr. Brighton took in a deep breath.