Sleepers (The Blue Planets World series Book 1) Page 5

  If Blevins understood half of what was in those journals, he was a genius; what was he doing just teaching high school? Jake suspected that at some point Blevins had done volcano research: volcanologists were the only Earth personnel who had access to Rison, and thus, would have old photos taken on Rison. The volcanology journals supported that theory, but it made it even stranger that Blevins was now teaching high school biology.

  He turned left at the next block and steadily wound through neighborhoods until he stood in front of Coach Blevin’s house. It was still light—sunset in early September was about 7:30 p.m.—but it was now or never. If he understood right, Coach would be busy with swim team for another hour or so. Jake had watched enough detective shows that he knew what he had to do: break in and search Blevins’s house. Of course, those shows were just fiction, he knew that. But he’d also read about real Earth detectives, and concluded that—when you suspected someone of questionable activity—it’s just what you did on Earth. As Sherlock Holmes would say, “The game is afoot.”

  Looking all around, Jake saw no one. He pulled on a pair of gloves to guard against fingerprints. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the brim of his cap low on his forehead, and crossed the road, heart beating crazily. He’d never broken into a house before, in fact, never been around Earth housing before.

  Blevins’s house was a one-story ranch, small, and obviously had seen better days. The garage door sagged, and the roof had patches of moss. The garage’s side door stuck, needing a shove to open, but it hadn’t been locked. Jake shrugged to himself: detective work was easy.

  Inside, the garage was empty, which probably meant that Blevins still parked his car there on a regular basis. In his short time on Earth, Jake had already learned that many garages were storage rooms, not protection for cars.

  Coach Blevins had told the captain to look in the storage room at the back, so Jake crept across the open space, spotted the door, and opened it. He found a light switch, and when he realized that there were no windows in the room, he flicked the light on and closed the door.

  The storage room was narrow, piled with boxes near the door, and at the other end, thick canvas covered several large shapes. Blevins was clearly a neat man: every box was labeled with large black printing. Julianne’s clothes. High school annuals. Rison photos.

  Jake’s hand trembled as he pulled the photo box from under the others and set it on the floor. Kneeling, he peeled off the yellowed tape and opened the cardboard flaps. He felt like he was peeling off a couple years of Blevins’s life, and Jake didn’t know if he’d like what he’d find. Inside was a jumble of photos, newspaper clippings, and a couple photo albums. Jake whistled. These were old. No one kept stuff like this anymore; everything was digital.

  He pulled out an album and flipped through it: badly faded color photographs and even a few black-and-whites. Really old. Probably Coach Blevins’s parents or maybe grandparents. Next, he discarded a yellowed newspaper dated December 25, 1999. Why Coach Blevins kept that newspaper, Jake couldn’t figure out. To one side, a stack of 8”x10” black-and-white photos caught his attention. On top was a sight Jake recognized, the Cadee Moon Base. His breath caught. Seen from a spaceship, the Moon Base was a square block of buildings, and behind it loomed Rison. Jake wished it were a color picture, wished it showed the blue oceans. Rison and Earth were so much alike: about 70% of Earth is covered in water and 80% of Rison. Jake touched the photo of his home planet and let the homesickness wash over him. Usually he blocked it, turned it off. But now he longed to see his pet kriga—a monkey-like animal he had named Bell. He had photos of Bell and himself sleeping in what Earthlings would call a hammock, and photos of them sharing a frozen dessert much like ice cream. Even three years later, some nights he still wanted Bell to cuddle while he went to sleep. Before tears could well up, he set aside the photo.

  Glancing at the next photo, he froze. It showed his stepfather Swann Quad-de and another man who were shaking hands. Judging from Swann’s image, it was taken maybe six or eight years ago. The face of the other man looked familiar, but Jake couldn’t place it. Something, though, stilled his hand, and he couldn’t put it down, as if instinct told him that this photo was important. The man was clean-shaven, but the hairstyles then had been longer and shaggier. Who was it?

  A noise sounded from outside in the garage, probably the garage door rising. Jake leapt up, and flipped off the light. Blinded in the sudden dark, Jake picked up the box of photos and felt for the stack of boxes. He heaved the box onto the top of the stack. He couldn’t tape it shut, but he could make it less conspicuous. The last photo he had looked at, the black-and-white of Swann Quad-de and somehow-familiar man, Jake shoved into the waistband of his pants; he wanted to look at it in more detail. Finally, he squeezed behind the boxes and hid. The growl of a car pulling into the garage made him cower and cover his head. Jake gulped and forced himself to relax. Behind the short wall of boxes, he slumped, his back against a wall. The stolen photo poked his ribcage, but he wasn’t giving that up.

  The growl of the car suddenly stopped, and Jake tried to stop breathing.

  A car door slammed.

  A tiny crack of light shone at the bottom of the door to the storage room.

  The door opened and a shaft of light poured in. And then the overhead light came on.

  Jake gulped air, and then squeezed his lips together to ensure silence. Fear throbbed, making his heat beat wildly. He peered through a small opening between the boxes.

  Whistling, Captain Hill walked into the storage room, strode to the right, and stopped at a wall map that Jake hadn’t noticed. It was a topographical map, one that showed the mountains and valleys of a landscape in great detail. At the center someone had drawn a red circle and written numbers in a black marker: 45° 51’14.16”N; 121° 45’35.71”W.

  Jake realized they were GPS coordinates, an Earth method of finding exact locations on Earth using satellite data.

  Captain Hill tapped the map and muttered, “Soon.”

  With his fingernail, he peeled tape from the map, pulled it off the wall, and folded it. Captain Hill knelt and flipped open a large case in the corner of the room that Jake hadn’t noticed when he came in. Hill slipped the map into the side of the case, and then pulled out a white metal thing that unfolded to show four legs, and set it on the floor. From the case, he removed a propeller and blew on it to make it spin.

  A drone! The case had four propellers that could screw onto the four legs. What was going on?

  The Captain stood on a small stool to reach the cabinet’s top shelf and carefully stepped down holding a package. When he turned, Jake got a good view of it: the black plastic was plastered with universal symbols warning, “Poison” and “Brown Matter.”

  Jake watched in horror as Captain Hill fitted the package into the payload area of the drone. A single drop of Brown Matter—it was unthinkably dangerous.

  Red Matter, Brown Matter—Rison physicists had debated the structure of matter in the universe for decades. Red Matter wasn’t just theoretical, but it was hard to produce in a lab because it was hard to contain it. Besides, physicists predicted that a critical mass of Red Matter could cause a singularity, or a black hole, so few experimenters wanted to risk dealing with it. Brown Matter was a cruder form of Red Matter with slightly different properties; instead of collapsing into a black hole, it merely absorbed energy. A hundred years ago, Risonian scientist Oliver Saboo had proposed that Brown Matter could absorb the energy from a volcano about to erupt. When they finally tried it 50 years ago, he was partially right. Brown Matter absorbed energy, pulling up even more energy from the planet’s core, which could make a dormant volcano explode. In the short term, a volcano’s activity could be worse. But over the long run, the Brown Matter did sink deep and calm down volcanic activity, volcano by volcano across Rison, and it seemed to have no side effects. However, over the next five decades, the Brown Matter sank even farther into the core than predicted, kept absorbing energy, and cool
ed the planet.

  At some point, scientists realized that the energy absorbed by the Brown Matter and the increasing pressure from the depths of Rison’s core was slowly purifying and transforming the material into Red Matter. Eventually, the Red Matter particles would be attracted to each other until they formed a critical mass and created a singularity. In other words, the planet would implode into a black hole.

  Over the years, the delivery of Brown Matter had been miniaturized. The box that Captain Hill held was about half the size of a cereal box, but it could hold anything from a few nanograms to a full gram of Brown Matter. The rest of the box was a containment field called a Penning Trap. Penning Traps were electromagnetic fields created by an octupole magnet. It was like creating a bottle with no walls and was considered the safest way to contain and deliver Brown Matter.

  Captain Hill sat cross-legged on the floor and drew a worn paper notebook from the cabinet. Flipping through it, he whispered to himself. “We’ll have our revenge, yet. That volcano will blow.”

  Horror struck Jake. Captain Hill was actually thinking about using the Brown Matter on an Earth volcano! It was madness! The short-term effect could pull even dormant volcanoes to life.

  Hill’s phone rang: the ringtone was a classic alien sound effect.

  “Yes?” he answered.

  Then: “Sure, I’ll stick it in the oven now. I’m just looking for those photos, and then I’ll catch the last ferry back to Seattle.”

  And: “Okay, see you soon.”

  He stuck the phone into his back pocket, packed up the Brown Matter and the drone, and carried the case to his car. The car door slammed, and then the house door opened.

  It was Jake’s chance to get away!

  He tiptoed to the storage room’s door, opened it a crack, and peered out. Captain Hill was just walking into the house from the garage, a dark silhouette in the lighted doorway.

  Jake waited, counting to 20. But he dared not wait longer; Captain Hill would soon reappear. He opened the door and darted into the garage. The large door for the cars to enter and exit was closed, so he went to the side door through which he’d originally entered. The door was stuck again. Jake tugged, the door making a scraping sound on the concrete floor.

  “Halt!” It was a military-style order, given with the assurance that it would be obeyed. A quick glance told Jake that Captain Hill had come out of the house and was pointing at Jake.

  Ignoring the order, Jake yanked the door, finally dragging it open, and dashed out. Panicked, he pounded down the street, no plan except to get away.

  Behind him, Jake heard the stomp of Captain Hill’s boots giving chase.

  Jake ran lightly, glad now for his running outfit and running shoes. Car lights glared, forcing Jake to slow for a second before darting across the road. Captain Hill was catching up, obviously a strong runner. Jake saw a path ahead and darted into the Grand Forest, a 240-acre park of second-growth forest with miles of trails. He hoped it would be easier to find places to hide there.

  Dashing through the towering woods, he thought he might be right. Captain Hill seemed slower, less sure, in the darkness. Suddenly, Jake’s foot caught a root, and he fell heavily, thumping his head. He sat up, shook his head, and almost passed out. Stumbling up, he ran again, but slower, Captain Hill thundering up behind him.

  Finding a deeper strength from somewhere inside, Jake lengthened his stride. Dark shadows flickered past, and he was afraid he’d trip up again. But he had to go faster. He pushed himself harder, moving faster up a steep incline, then down and up again through another steep area.

  Captain Hill was breathing loud, maybe not in as good shape as Jake had first thought.

  But Jake’s head throbbed. He needed to stop and breathe, too. There, beside the trail was a stand of ferns, chest high. Jake shoved through the wall of fronds and sat abruptly, forcing himself to a stillness that let him blend into the Grand Forest. He had just disappeared. He hoped.

  Captain Hill thundered past, huffing and puffing, pushing up yet another incline. The dark shadows had deepened, and it was getting hard to see anything.

  Waiting, Jake breathed heavily. He was scared of being caught, but oddly, it was his mother he feared the most. If he were caught, her smoldering frustrations with the pace of negotiations would spill over and burn him. Humans might call them Risonian Sharks, but they had no idea how angry his mother could get. Oh, she wouldn’t touch him; Rison parents rarely spanked or hit their children. Instead, her disappointment would be a sword that stabbed his heart.

  Captain Hill would be back soon, and Jake had to escape. He wondered if Captain Hill had gotten a good look at him or could identify him. The woods were dark now, and Jake could take a chance getting close to Captain Hill if he had to. But it was still better to just outrun him. Jake darted up and back the way they had come.

  Immediately, he heard Captain Hill circling back to find him. Though he had rested briefly, Jake was still panting, and he had to pause, bend over and gulp air. He couldn’t run much longer; he had to stop and fight.

  Jake crouched under a fern, and just as Captain Hill dashed past, Jake swarmed upward and shoved the man to the ground. Captain Hill rolled head over heels, landing flat on his back. Instantly, Jake was on top, flailing with fists at Captain Hill’s face.

  The captain screamed, “Halt!”

  For the briefest instant, Jake hesitated, instinct making him want to obey. Captain Hill heaved upward with his legs throwing Jake up and over his head to land sprawling on the forest floor.

  They both staggered to a standing position and squared off in the dark woods, with only scraps of starlight coming through the forest canopy. Jake’s ears rang, fear drowning everything else. It might look exciting in a movie, but this chase stuff was way overrated. Captain Hill was military, trained in armed combat. Jake, as a politician’s son, had received hand-to-hand combat training, but he was unsure of himself, untested against a human. And now, Swann’s voice replayed in his head. “If there’s a way to avoid a fight, that’s the best.”

  Looking at the steep terrain, Jake thought he saw a chance. He rushed headlong toward Captain Hill, his momentum giving him strength, and shoved the startled man.

  Captain Hill waved his arms wildly for a moment, and then fell down the incline behind him, rolling a couple times. He groaned—he was alive!—but didn’t move.

  Swann’s voice came again in Jake’s head: “And once you have your opponent immobilized, leave.”

  Jake turned and ran. Behind him there was only silence.

  Jake opened the back door, shoes in hand, intending to sneak upstairs to his room. But a voice stopped him.

  “Where’ve you been?” Sir asked.

  Jake shrugged. How could he explain the night’s adventure to his grandfather?

  Sir shook his head, bald scalp gleaming in the shafts of light from the street lamps outside. In a reasonable voice, he said, “I used to wait up for your father just like this. He always tried to sneak in, too. Doesn’t work, you know. You have to talk to me sooner or later.”

  Jake set his shoes beside the staircase. When he’d reached the road, he’d been aggravated to find that Dad’s old NYPD hat was missing; but it was too dark and too dangerous to go back into the woods to find it. He went to the refrigerator. “May I please have some milk?” Cow’s milk was one Earth drink he’d learned to appreciate.

  “Of course,” Sir said. “Then come and sit with me.” He went out to sit in one of the rocking chairs on the front porch.

  No good options. Jake took his milk and sat in the other rocking chair. For a few minutes, they just watched the stars, both overhead and how they reflected in the waters of the Sound. Across the water from Yeomalt Point, Seattle’s skyline twinkled, and on the horizon a glow was growing where the moon would rise soon. Jake shifted his chair to the right so he could see the stars better, and he wondered how things were faring for his stepfather. Guilt washed over him again. He should’ve been there on Rison w
ith Swann, not here on Earth. But Swann and his mother had been adamant about him leaving Rison.

  “When I come to Earth,” Swann had said, “you’ll show me around. You’ll be the one to help me get settled.”

  They both knew it was unlikely for Swann to ever come to Earth. Even if they’d started evacuating Rison a year ago, there was no way they could get everyone off-planet. No way Earth could accommodate all the Risonians.

  Sir cleared his throat. “Do you want to tell me where you’ve been?”

  Jake rubbed his temples and sighed. He desperately wanted to tell him, wanted advice and help. But not from Sir. Where was Dad? Anger ruffled through him and settled into a dull headache. Anger that he was here on Earth with his father, while Swann was back on Rison in danger. “No, I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Thought you might say that,” Sir said. “Well, I’m here. I’m ready to listen any time. I can help, but only if you let me.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “If you plan to be out late again, call me. I don’t want Easter worried.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  His grandfather rose. “Well, goodnight.”

  Jake waited a few minutes, letting his grandfather go upstairs first. With a last glance at the Milky Way galaxy, he went upstairs to the bathroom. He found some headache medicine in the medicine cabinet—close enough to Risonian pain medicines that they usually worked for him. He swallowed the pill and brushed his teeth. Back in his room, Jake pulled off his t-shirt, then paused to smooth out the photo of Swann Quad-de and the strangely familiar man. Who was it? It was an important clue, he was sure. Jake yawned, tired from the night’s race through the woods. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he would find out everything there was to know about Captain Hill and Coach Blevins.