Seven Wonders Book 2: Lost in Babylon Read online

  “Yup, their knickers are totally in a twist over it,” Cass replied. “Sorry. That’s a Marco expression. But there’s some hope. Maybe the KI will find her.”

  I sighed. “Not with that iridium band around her wrist.”

  “Oh,” Cass said. “Right.”

  The door opened. Brother Dimitrios entered, wearing scrubs. “Welcome, Jack! So sorry about André; he got a little overeager with his stick. We will be sure to set him straight. So good to see you up and about.”

  “Wish I could say the same,” I grumbled.

  “I bring good news,” he went on. “I know you must be concerned about your friend Aly’s well-being. But not to worry. Naturally we know where she’s gone, so I’m figuring a half hour . . . an hour, tops.”

  “You’re lying,” Cass piped up, then immediately burst into giggles. “I can’t believe I just said that. Me, to a figure of authority. Ha! But it’s true. I can tell. Your mouth—it’s really . . . thgit!”

  Brother Dimitrios’s smile fell. Now I was laughing too.

  Our lives these days were all about traps. Trapped on the island, trapped into going to Greece, to Ohio, to Iraq. Trapped inside some dank underground evil headquarters. Aly had broken the spell. Even if it was for an hour, a few minutes—she had done it. She was free.

  “Well, it seems we’re in a giddy mood,” Brother Dimitrios said. “This is good. You must think we’re monsters. We’re not. You’ll see. There is much to do, much to show you. Including a surprise or two. Come.”

  An orderly rolled a wheelchair into the room. Before I could say a thing, he lifted me into it and began rolling me down a hallway, following Brother Dimitrios and Cass.

  We headed up a steep incline. The walls were painted with colorful murals depicting the building of the pyramids and the luxurious courts of the pharaohs. My good mood was slipping fast. It was bad enough to have been stolen away to a tropical island. I was just getting used to that. Now what? What were we supposed to do here? The place was clammy and cold and depressing. “Where are we?” I asked. “What happened to Marco?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Brother Dimitrios said. “This is an as-yet unexcavated pyramid. At first our archaeologists thought it would be an early one, a simple mound. These preceded the bench-shaped mastabas, which were in turn followed by the so-called step pyramids that looked something like layer cakes. But we have found this discovery to be easily the equal of the wondrous pyramids in this valley—all built to comfortably house the bodies of pharaohs and the queens, who would bless the land forever. And now it houses us!”

  “Guess the blessing ran out,” I murmured.

  As we turned into another corridor, Brother Dimitrios had to duck under an uneven ceiling. “These particular pathways are original, thus a bit cramped. The pyramids seem rock solid from the outside, but they’re built with many inner corridors. All the original paths are at an incline. The pharaoh could travel up or down—up toward the sun god, Re, or down to the ruler of the dead, Osiris.” He smiled. “Imagine, if you will, chambers stuffed with gold and jewelry—all designed to pamper the pharaoh!”

  “Thanks for the history lesson,” I said with a yawn. “But if you expect us to be super-excited about hanging with dead pharaohs, sorry. And if you expect us to be brainwashed like Marco, sorry twice.”

  “You never told us where Marco is,” Cass said.

  “You’re right, I didn’t,” Brother Dimitrios replied with a half-smile that reeked of creepiness.

  At the top of the incline was a big rotunda. We paused there. It was an impressive place with a polished tile floor. To the left and right were frosted glass doors leading to inner rooms. Straight ahead, at the opposite end of the rotunda, another pathway continued onward. The circular walls were painted with detailed scenes—a baby facing down a fierce griffin, a dark young hunter catching a vromaski with his bare hands, an old man surrounded by admirers on his deathbed. All from the life of Massarym, I figured.

  But my eye was drawn to a portrait of a dark, bearded man sitting on a stone block, his fist on his chin as if in deep thought. Around him were images of the Seven Wonders, arranged like the Heptakiklos.

  At his feet were seven sheets, each with a crude sketch of one of the Seven Wonders.

  The breath caught in my throat. I’d seen those plans in a dream—a dream in which I was Massarym, and I had created them myself.

  The orderlies wheeled us to the left, and Brother Dimitrios paused at a frosted glass door.

  “Security clearance!” he announced.

  A voice, odd and mechanical-sounding, boomed out from unseen speakers. “It’s good to . . . see you . . . welcome!” it said in weird, jerky tones that crackled like a bad phone connection. “. . . to have you here . . . Jack and Cass.”

  Cass and I nodded. What were we supposed to do, thank him? Or her? Or it?

  With a whoosh, the door opened into a room much vaster than I’d expected—an underground space the size of a supermarket. Greenish-white stalactites hung from a ceiling that was maybe twenty feet high. The floor was covered with mats, dividing the room roughly into four sections. In one of them to our left, two soldiers, a man and woman, were slashing at each other with swords.

  To the right, deep into the room, four Massa spun and kicked furiously, their limbs churning the air—yet no one seemed to be touching the other. Like a choreographed game of chicken.

  The third area, directly to our right, contained an iron cage. In it, a heavily scarred man faced off with a strange, cougarlike black beast. As it roared and charged, the man sprang upward into a flip, kicking his legs out against the bars and landing on the beast’s back. In his left hand he held a dagger. I had to look away.

  “This is where we train!” Brother Dimitrios had to shout to be heard over the din. “In the great, ancient tradition of the Massa. Because our followers are not Select, they must work extra hard. And they relish new challenges. Behold.”

  Brother Dimitrios clapped three times.

  A sequence of movement began. First, the empty mat sank downward into the floor, like a stage effect leaving a rectangular hole. Second, a wall of vertical iron bars lowered directly in front of us with a solid thump. It stretched left and right, from wall to wall, as if to separate and protect us from the room. Third, a door in the beast’s cage opened.

  The entire room stopped and fell silent—swordspeople, kick boxers, animal fighter. Even the beast stood watching, its eyes yellow and fierce.

  Slowly, something began to rise up from within the big rectangular hole. The beast bared its teeth and snarled. The fighters drew back their swords and the kick boxers tensed.

  Shoulders . . . back . . . a lone figure, facing away from us, stood in the center of the rising mat. He was dressed in a brocaded uniform, his hair slicked to his skull, a lambda shape showing through.

  He turned and smiled. His teeth gleamed, his eyes glowed. Energy poured off him with an intensity I could almost see.

  “This place, Brother Jack,” he said, “is the bomb.”

  “Massa,” Brother Dimitrios said, “you may attack Marco.”

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  THE BEAST-TAMER

  RRRAAAAAGGHH! THE BEAST leaped out of its cage at Marco. Its teeth glistened, its claws retracted. The sword fighters retreated to the wall.

  Marco bent his knees. He sprang from the mat, flipping twice in the air. At the top of the leap, his hand whipped upward and knocked loose three or four stalactites.

  They crashed to the floor, breaking into jagged pieces. Marco landed squarely among them. “Here, kitty kitty . . .” he said, scooping a spearlike fragment from the ground.

  If he was afraid, he didn’t show it. My heart had stopped. Cass had gripped my arm so hard his fingers were raising welts.

  G7W. It was changing Marco by
the day. He was no longer an impossibly amazing basketball player and swimmer. His reflexes, his strength, his confidence—it was all something more than human.

  If it had done that to Marco, what was it doing to the rest of us?

  The beast leaped again, and Marco swung. The stalactite pierced the side of the creature and it yowled in pain. As it crumpled to the corner, the two sword fighters attacked.

  As the first one struck, Marco lurched back, holding out the bloodstained stalactite. The sword split it with a dull crack. But Marco was directly in the path of the second fighter, who thrust her sword directly at his chest.

  “Stop!” Cass yelled. I flinched and turned away.

  When I looked back, Marco had arched backward at an angle that should have been impossible. His body was parallel to the floor. His assailant was flying clear over Marco’s head, on a collision path with the giant black beast.

  Staggering to its feet, the creature opened its mouth.

  With astonishing speed, Marco snapped upright and hurled a piece of broken limestone toward the beast. The shard lodged in its mouth, jamming it wide open. As the beast howled in pain, the swordsman bounced off its muzzle and fell to the ground.

  “You’re welcome,” Marco said to his erstwhile attacker.

  With a thud, one of the kickers connected squarely with Marco’s jaw. He hadn’t seen that coming. Marco stumbled backward, flailing his arms.

  “No!” I cried out.

  With an outstretched palm, Marco caromed off the wall behind him, jumping high. He hurtled toward the kickers, knocking two of them out cold.

  The others whirled toward him like ninjas on steroids, their feet slashing the air like knives. Marco reached his left hand into the air. “Hip!” he said. Then the right hand. “Hop.”

  I gasped. He had two of them by the ankle. He threw them down to the mat, and they slid headfirst into the blood-spattered cage.

  The beast-tamer was still huddled inside. All three hundred pounds of him stared at Marco in fearful silence.

  “Amazing . . .” Brother Dimitrios muttered. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

  Marco stood there, looking around at the chaos. I watched him shake his head as if waking from a dream. “Dang,” he said, “did I do that?”

  * * *

  I backed away. The wall of vertical bars was raised up to the ceiling. Brother Dimitrios was congratulating Marco. Yiorgos commandeered a group of people to mop the floor. A team of burly guys in masks and armor tasered the beast and led it away.

  “Extraordinary!” Dimitrios said. “What strength! What promise!”

  Marco glanced my way with an amazed grin. He cocked his head and let out a animal-like roar. “Woooooo-hoooo! I want to do this again!”

  “In due time, my boy,” Brother Dimitrios said with a proud smile. “We will have great uses for all of your powers.”

  Marco was dancing around the room, shadow-boxing, kicking his legs. To him it was all about G7W. Our cool powers. The Massa were letting him loose with it. Turning his G7W skill into a killing game.

  To him, this was more than fun. It was an addiction.

  What did they have in store for the rest of us?

  I stood from the wheelchair. I didn’t need it. My head still hurt but I could walk. Cheers rang out from the battle room, which was now full of guards, medical people, animal wranglers. It was Marco Day at the Massa Headquarters. Everyone wanted a piece of the celebrity.

  Behind us, the rotunda was empty. Totally empty. No one was minding the store. I quickly scanned the circular room and noticed a corridor to the left that appeared to be empty.

  I edged backward. I pictured Aly disappearing into the crowd. She had managed to escape by bucking the odds. By showing courage. She had run when it seemed like a crazy thing to do.

  Cass was backing up with me. I could tell we were on the same wavelength. “Ready?” I whispered.

  “Ready,” Cass said.

  “Now!”

  We turned and ran. As we sped into the corridor, I noticed a tiny marble-sized contraption on the ceiling. It began blinking red and white. “Hurry!” I called out.

  I fought against the pain in my head. One foot in front of the other. The path inclined upward and forked. I chose left.

  With a loud thump, a metal gate dropped from the ceiling, blocking my path.

  Cass and I whirled around and bolted down the other pathway. We followed it as it curved sharply to the right, ending in a steep flight of stone stairs.

  We took them two at a time. At the top, I stopped short.

  Before us was a small chamber, lit with candles. In the center was a long wooden sarcophagus, lying on a stone altar. Inside was a tightly wrapped mummy.

  “It’s a dead end!” Cass said.

  “In more ways than one,” I said, creeping closer to the coffin. “There’s got to be a way out. These guys were supposed to have free passage to visit the gods.”

  “Maybe there’s a secret passageway,” Cass said.

  I noticed something glint from inside the mummy’s eye slits. I leaned closer. The slits flashed red.

  Sensors.

  “Go!” I said, pushing Cass toward the door. “Just go!”

  Below us, the floor shuddered. Hard. We fell to our knees and struggled to stand. But we were sinking fast. The entire room, mummy and all, was dropping downward into darkness.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  SAFE AND COMFORTABLE

  “HELLO, JACK.”

  My eyes blinked open. I had no idea where I was. The voice had come at me from all sides. The same kind of scrambled voice we’d heard earlier. I was lying on a sofa in a darkened room, with pillows on the floor and a flat-screen TV showing scenic vistas with soothing music. “You guys really get a kick out of knocking kids unconscious, huh?” I said.

  “It is the last thing we want to do,” the voice said. “We aim to keep you safe. Pampered, even. Brother Dimitrios asked that you be put into this relaxation room. We have several. Are you comfortable?”

  I stood up and looked around for a window, a two-way mirror, a curtain like the one in The Wizard of Oz. “No, I’m not,” I said. “As a matter of fact, I’m creeped out beyond belief. Especially by you. Who are you? Where are you? Why are you disguising your voice?”

  “That’s a lot of questions,” the voice replied. “I’ll start with the last one. I have to disguise my voice. My identity must remain a secret to all but the top echelons. A security precaution. I am known as Nancy Emelink Margana, but I confess, that’s not real either. I may not even be female.”

  “So you’re the boss?” I said. “The one Brother Devious reports to?”

  “I wouldn’t be so harsh with Dimitrios,” the voice replied. “He cares deeply about your well-being, and he is a crackerjack manager.”

  “Crackerjack?” The sound of that term grated against me. The only other person I knew who ever used that expression was my mom. Hearing it from the Massa CEO, or whoever this was, felt like a slap in the face. “Maybe you want to brush up on your slang.”

  The voice made a strange noise that I took to be a laugh. “Old-fashioned, I suppose. I’m sorry. If you do not like it here, I will arrange for you to be taken to your room. Cass is there already. At any rate, I thought I would personally welcome you from the executive board of the Massa organization. You can be assured that I will be there to help you find the correct path. That’s a promise.”

  I flopped down onto the cushions and stared blankly at the bland images on TV. The Massa organization. She made this sound like some Wall Street company. Which, somehow, didn’t surprise me. “Thanks a bunch,” I muttered.

  * * *

  “I’m really, really, really sorry,” Marco said, inhaling a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream by the spoonful. “I know you think I’m this total Arno
ld Benedict.”

  The lounge had a full kitchen, a fridge stocked with food, and two giant flat-screen TVs. There were four windowless bedrooms off the lounge, one for each of us. They were actually going to keep all four of us together. Tinker, Tailor, Sailor, Traitor. They’d made us wear these bright yellow jumpsuits that would make us stand out a hundred yards away.

  “Benedict Arnold,” Cass mumbled. “A world-class turncoat.”

  “Right, that guy,” Marco said. “Hey, I know exactly how you feel. I felt the same way when Brother Dimitrios first found me. I was ready to floor him.”

  “For about fifteen seconds, before he changed your mind,” Cass remarked.

  “You’ll come around,” Marco insisted. “You’ll see.”

  “Why did they put you in here with us?” I blurted out. “You’re not one of us. You’re Massa. You should be with them. They’re a company, did you know that? A killing company. And it’s looks like they’re training you well.”

  “That was crazy, right?” he said. “I couldn’t believe myself. It’s almost like I left my body. Like I was standing outside it and watching all these moves. What did you guys think? Was that awesome or what?”

  I wheeled around on him. “Are you kidding us? You think all is forgiven, that it’s okay for us to sit here and worship you?”

  “Jack,” Marco said, leaning forward, “cool stuff is going to happen to you, too. And you, Cass. And Aly, when she gets back. These guys are not like the KI. They don’t just do lame exercises—you know, testing us in the garage, in the kitchen, on the mountain. These guys challenge you. That’s the only way to strengthen your G7W abilities. Aly will be hacking things you never imagined possible. Cass, you’ll be mapping routes all over the world. Jack, you . . . um . . .”

  I hated hearing the pause in his voice. The old question in everyone’s mind—What’s Jack good for? “I don’t like it,” I said. “It smells bad. Like they’re trying to brainwash us.”