The Search for Artemis (The Chronicles of Landon Wicker) (40 page)

Continuing his search, he lifted the page up from the stack so he could peek at the next. It was covered in more illegible text. He pulled that page off the stack and then the next and the next. None of it seemed to make any sense. It was infuriating. He wanted an answer, but he was too unlearned to understand the science laid out across the numerous pages; however, after pulling off another sheet, Landon saw a page much different than the others. It was on a different paper, college-ruled and crinkled as if water had spilled on it then dried.

It can’t be
, he thought as his eyes widened.

“Landon, what are you doing?” From her seat next to him, Peregrine’s voice startled Landon.

He hurriedly shut the folder and sat straight up in his chair. A strange sense of numbness flashed through his body, and he felt his ears get red as blood rushed to them. It was that feeling one gets when they’ve been discovered doing something they know is wrong, like being caught in a lie.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be looking at that.” She leaned over in her chair as far as she could and whispered it to Landon.

“I know,” he replied soft enough so only she could hear. “I couldn’t help myself, you know?” Landon leaned over toward Peregrine and added in a remorseful tone, “Don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t want to get in trouble on my first mission.”

Peregrine nodded in understanding. “So—” she sounded mischievous and overtaken by her own curiosity “—did you find out what was in the test tubes?” She motioned her head toward Landon’s pocket.

Landon pulled the three samples he’d found in the lab out of the pocket on his shoulder and held them loosely in his hand. As he stared down at them and slid his thumb down the edge of one of the labels, he replied, “No. I’m not even sure we needed two of them.”

“Oh,” Peregrine replied. “I’m sure they’ll figure it out back at the base. Good idea though. We wouldn’t want to leave anything behind.” Without another word, she turned forward and returned to her own thoughts.

Landon looked back at the vials resting in his open palm. As he stared at them, he couldn’t get past the fact that the first one he found looked so much like blood. Shaking his head in hopes of shifting his thoughts, Landon put the vials back into the pocket on his shoulder and stared out the window.
What a first mission,
he thought as he watched the mountains and trees sweep by below.

Soon they were landing inside the Stable of the Olympic Tower—returned from their mission. Exhaustion was recognizable on the faces of everyone as they disengaged their harnesses and alighted the
Alpha Chariot
. A pair of Gymnasium personnel came on board and carried the still unconscious body of Joshua off the tilt-rotor and headed straight for the medical wing.

While he stood there waiting for the men to carry Joshua past, Landon saw Cortland hand a small black object over to Dr. Brighton near the front of the aircraft. It must have been the computer files he had copied from Metis Labs, so once standing on the hangar floor, Landon stepped over to Dr. Brighton and gave him the file folder and the three vials he had been holding on to, assuming it was the standard procedure.

“Sir,” he said apprehensively as Dr. Brighton took them, “do you know what Project Herakles is, really? I mean, what was so important about this that we had to risk our lives for it?” Landon felt insubordinate for merely asking. He knew the information was “Top Secret” but he didn’t understand why they hadn’t given them more information on what they were getting into before the mission.

“Ah, Landon, ‘Ours is not to reason why. Ours is but to do and die.’” Dr. Brighton had adopted his usual philosophical demeanor as he replied. Landon looked at him with an unsatisfied expression. “Unfortunately, Apollo, I do not,” Dr. Brighton said, reverting to a more straightforward approach. “Our mission was to acquire the documents. What they’re about is the concern of greater people.”

“It’s just that—” Landon stopping himself to rework his thought. “It’s just that we could’ve died today. Castor’s got a tranquilizer dart in his neck and you guys had to take on an army for God’s sake, but for what?” Landon threw his arms outward in exasperation. His voice went higher and more emphatic as he spoke. “I mean, really, for what? One little file on some project we aren’t allowed to know about. It just doesn’t make sense. I know it’s our job, but they should tell us more—let us know what we’re getting into. Give us something to know we’re fighting on the right side.”

The words escaped Landon’s mouth before he could stop them. In a moment of panic, he nervously licked his lips and took a labored gulp. He turned away, hoping to escape, and watched the rest of his team as they moved toward the lift. Before darting away, he took one last look at Dr. Brighton to see his reaction.

He face showed no sign of shock, disappointment or any extreme expression for that matter. He merely looked at his student and said normally, “Apollo, hang back with me for a minute, okay?”

Even though staying back to talk to Dr. Brighton was now the farthest thing from what he wanted to do, Landon nodded in affirmation. A moment later, he heard the lift as it began to descend into the depths of the Olympic Tower.

“Landon,” Dr. Brighton began the minute the top of the others’ heads disappeared from view, “I need to apologize to you.”

“For what?” Landon asked in surprise.

“For doubting you.” Dr. Brighton started to walk slowly forward, pressing his hand against the back of Landon’s shoulder to signal for him to follow along. “You see, when I was told they had decided to put you on the Pantheon, I wholeheartedly disagreed with them, and I wasn’t silent about it either. When I was asked to then give you your offer, I interjected some very hurtful and unnecessary things on my own volition in hopes that I could dissuade you from accepting. Everything about me told me you weren’t ready.

“But after tonight, I know I was wrong.” Dr. Brighton sped in front of Landon, turned and looked him dead in the eyes. “I was wrong,” he repeated. “Tonight, you performed brilliantly. You should know that. Even in the midst of all that was going on, you remained level-headed and focused. You figured out a way to get up to the forty-seventh floor when all obvious routes were blocked. You went head-to-head with Artemis and won, and most importantly, you succeeded in securing the files.” Dr. Brighton held up the pale blue file folder for Landon to see.

“I never paid attention to it before,” Dr. Brighton continued. “I only saw you as that broken boy, haunted by his past and unable to progress, but what I failed to see, Landon, is that you’re logical, clever and you’ve got a level of creativity when it comes to your abilities that I’ve never seen before. That’s a powerful combination. But most of all, you’ve got passion.”

Landon looked perplexed. He was trying to piece together what exactly Dr. Brighton was trying to tell him.

“Tenacity and perseverance are two things one can’t teach,” Dr. Brighton said. “They have to come from within. You have to be born with them, and you’ve got them. Those things are what drive you to succeed. That constant curiosity you face, that inability to accept the way things are, that need to know everything—it’s just your mind pushing you to be better, to be the best.

“I know the fire that burns within you.” Dr. Brighton passionately pressed his hand at his stomach. “That same fire rages in me.

“Never lose that passion, Landon. That hunger for understanding will keep you honest. We may not be able to know what’s in this file, but we are allowed to wonder, and we are definitely allowed to question whether or not we’re doing the right thing.” Dr. Brighton looked at Landon compassionately. “And know this Landon: what you did today was
definitely
the right thing.” Dr. Brighton stood tall and turned back toward the lift. In a more jovial tone, he continued, “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. That mission sure took it out of me.”

“Agreed,” Landon replied with a smile.

“Perhaps I’ll just sleep on the couch in the faculty lounge tonight. I don’t think I can bear trekking out to my apartment.” Dr. Brighton rubbed the back of his neck in an attempt to sooth the aches of his exhaustion. “I’m just too tired.”

“Yeah, it would really suck to have to find your way out there at night . . . especially after what we just went through.”

Landon and Dr. Brighton laughed as the lift activated and descended into the lower levels of the Olympic Tower.

• • • • •

When Landon entered the locker room, the rest of the guys from the Pantheon had already unsuited and left, returning to their rooms to get some well-deserved rest. Landon disengaged his nano-zipper and slowly pried his tactical uniform off with as much grace as possible. Noticing the bin filled with the suits of his teammates nearby, he set it with the others and dressed in the clothes he had stored in his locker.

Once ready, Landon headed out of the Olympic Tower to his bedroom on the fourth floor. Exhaustion had set in by this point and his thoughts concurrently quieted. Every concern about Celia and Artemis, every question about Project Herakles and every worry and concern faded away into the recesses of his mind. Thinking about nothing but his bed, he strolled through the dark halls of the Gymnasium, stumbled into his room and plopped down on his soft mattress. The moment his head hit the pillow he was out, lost in a deep, dreamless sleep.

However, his mind could only stay quiet for so long. Soon visions crept up through his subconscious and flashed through his blank slumber. Images of the suited guards strewn about the Metis Labs lobby in a state somewhere between sleep and death faded in and out. They were so vivid; his mind reconstructed the scene in perfect detail with limbs oddly contorted and numerous Morphium-12 darts stuck out of the casualties’ backs, arms, legs, necks and even their faces—the horrid remains of a desperate battle. As the images rushed through his thoughts, Landon tossed and turned in his bed. The suited men were their enemy, but no matter whose side they were on, images of the battle’s fallen victims were scarring enough to remain burned into his brain.

His visions changed to Project Herakles. Glimpses of the test tubes, the labels and the file folder flickered in and out of existence. They moved through his mind with incredible speed, but one image continued to resurface—an image that even his dreams seemed to consider uncertain. Just before Peregrine caught him staring at the papers of the file, he thought he had recognized a strange page hidden deep amongst the sheets of scientific ramblings. He couldn’t make out any of the words in the dark, but it was the doodles that stood out to him; he thought it was a page from his journal. It was the one he had lost in the city as he ran from the same black suited men. Landon couldn’t be sure; he hadn’t had enough time to fully take in what he was seeing before Peregrine interrupted, and his dreams portrayed that. The flashing memory of the page returned over and over again, but the writings were always blurry and the doodles familiar but inconclusive.

Then his mind shifted to Artemis, or Celia. Visions of her standing stoically in the hallway of the forty-seventh floor, coupled with uncomfortable visions of her body lying against the wall and recollections of her face revealed from behind her concealing collar, darted across his mind in rapid succession.

Landon was suddenly startled awake. When he opened his eyes, Celia’s face was right in front of him, consuming his entire range of sight. It was just as he had seen in his dream, but this was reality. She was dangerously close to his face, and it sent a jolt of shock and surprise through his body. He instinctively let out an embarrassing shriek as he tried to distance himself from her. Pushing the blankets away with his feet, he made his way for the far corner of the bed.

“Shh,” she said as forcefully as she could without being loud enough to wake Brock, who was still snoring in the other bed. “It’s me.”

Landon left the instinctive flight mode and calmed down, but his gaze was fixed on Celia, who was crouched near the head of his bed.

“Come on,” she continued in a quiet but hurried voice. “We need to talk . . . now.”

Celia grabbed Landon’s arm and pulled him from the comfort of his bed. Unquestioningly, Landon slid off his bed and got to his feet. Even though he had only gotten two hours of sleep, the anticipation had sucked the fatigue out of his body. 

The mysteries of Artemis had been a subject stirring in his mind for nearly a year; he couldn’t escape her. He first heard her name after the incident in the Library and ever since she had haunted his thoughts, torturing him with one question after another but never giving him any answers. After Dr. Pullman told him Artemis was more than a myth, he had exhausted every possibility he could think of to unearth her identity, but Celia never came into his equation.

He couldn’t wait for answers, but in the back of his mind, he had a sinking feeling that what he was about to hear was going to change his life forever. He knew he would hear things he would never be able to tell another soul, and Landon didn’t know if he could withstand holding on to another person’s secrets when he had to fight so hard to guard his own.

Landon went with Celia to the door that led into the dormitory halls and reached to open it, but before his hand even touched the metal knob, Celia stopped his arm.

“No. Can’t risk it. Could wake him.” She pointed to Brock who still lay asleep under his covers. “Here, take my hand.” Landon looked at her skeptically. “Trust me.”

He took her hand with caution; he had an idea of what she was about to do. Celia stretched her arm out and placed her hand on the door. A moment later, Landon watched as her hand passed through the solid wood, disappearing from sight. Inch by inch, Celia vanished as she stepped through the door. Before he could protest or even think about what it would feel like, he was standing in the hall, the door to his room locked and undisturbed behind him.