Clones vs. Aliens Read online

  “Hold it, hold it,” Fisher said, putting a hand on Warren’s shoulder. “We’re not supposed to be here at all. Remember that. As far as our parents know, the eight of us are going to the movies.” Fisher didn’t add that they’d been so happy to hear he was actually socializing with other humans, they hadn’t bothered to ask which movie or when. “We’ve got to be careful, so follow my lead once we’re inside, okay? Okay?”

  Warren, who had started to doze off as soon as Fisher started talking, snapped back to attention and nodded rapidly. Amanda and Trevor gave nods as well.

  Fisher turned back to the gate. His parents and people with real invitations were already inside the park, touring the place, examining the rides, and doing whatever else they planned to do. Fisher hadn’t seen any other kids: just the Bases’ fellow scientists and technicians. Fisher was surprised just how many there were—the guests numbered in the hundreds at least. Either his parents were being extremely careful with these tests, or the rides were more complicated than he’d thought.

  Still, given the size of the place, if the seventh graders were careful, they should be able to enjoy the rides undetected.

  The entrance to the park was an elaborate main gate with an archway, topped with LOOPITY LAND in huge, glowing, plastic letters across it, but the area under the arch turned out to be a thick Plexiglas wall. Four sliding doors were set into it, each guarded by large men in black fatigues, helmets, and tactical vests.

  “I’ll take point,” said Alex. Fisher nodded him ahead. Alex moved forward, looking left and right, checking for their parents. He motioned them forward after a moment. Fisher led the others up to the gate, taking a deep breath as the mountainous guards examined them.

  “Passes please,” said a massive, gruff-throated man from behind mirrored aviators. Fisher fanned all the passes out for inspection, glancing sideways at Alex as the helmeted behemoth took them in a hand that looked like it could turn a baseball to powder.

  Fisher’s neck was starting to sweat. The guard’s scanner was taking an awfully long time to process the passes. Fisher mentally cursed himself for blindly trusting Alex. These guards didn’t look like the type of security that would send the kids away with a stern word and a finger waggle if they caught you.

  Just when Fisher wondered if there was a little cement room with a single lightbulb in his near future, the scanner gave a little beep.

  “Go ahead,” the man said finally, handing the passes back. “Enjoy your visit to Loopity Land.” His tone of voice suggested he’d been meaning to look up what “enjoy” meant but hadn’t gotten around to it.

  Fisher let out a long-held breath as he stepped forward and the transparent door serving as the park’s high-tech gate slid to the side with the fissshk of brand-new, polished Plexiglas. One by one, the others followed him through. Fisher felt the passes getting warm in his hands, and he dropped them as they flared up and turned to ash.

  “Whoa!” Erin said, taking a step back. “You really mean business, huh?”

  “Our parents mean business,” said Fisher, dusting the soot from his hands.

  “All right, is everyone ready to have a good time?” Alex asked, sliding a pair of silver sunglasses down over his eyes. Everyone smiled and nodded. Alex unslung the tote bag from his shoulder and let FP hop out. Veronica beamed at Fisher, who, before his natural terror instinct could stop him, boldly reached out and took her hand.

  “Okay then,” Alex went on, unbuttoning the cuffs of his slick blue dress shirt and rolling his sleeves. “There’s only two rules. First, we meet at the M3 coaster in the middle of the park in half an hour. Second, if anyone sees our parents, move immediately in the other direction. Because our parents typically go for several months at a time in between seeing the sun and most of you haven’t met them, I’ve distributed pictures to your cell phones. Other than that, all I ask …”—he paused dramatically and looked over his shades—“is that you take this place for all it’s worth.”

  Amanda rolled her eyes slightly behind her glasses, but smiled in spite of it, and they were off. Erin, Trevor, and Warren immediately went in search of bumper cars, while Amanda hauled Alex off in another direction. Fisher smiled up at Veronica. As far as he was concerned, nothing they might do today, rides, games, whatever the park might throw at them, would be able to top the sheer excitement and joy he felt simply holding Veronica’s hand. They could be walking through an empty warehouse and the thrill would be no less. FP trotted between Veronica and Fisher, munching on the discarded snack remains that occasionally dotted the path.

  As they began moving through the park, Fisher was taken a little aback by the immensity of Loopity Land. And how precisely everything was laid out. The walkways all followed exact curves and angles, spreading in an intricate, and totally symmetrical, pattern. The grass was purple; whether it was a natural purple grass or had been dyed, Fisher couldn’t tell. But it was remarkable, as were the shrubs and trees that decorated the walkways, which were oddly shaped and colored themselves. It was a mad scientist’s dreamland. At perfectly even intervals, the spires and towers of the larger rides dominated the landscape, with smaller booths and attractions filling in the terrain at exact spots.

  Some of the rides were truly gigantic. A long-drop free fall booth slowly climbed its way up a ten-story tower before plummeting back to Earth, making a gentle stop just before it threatened to plunge down through the Earth’s crust. Another ride, modeled after the solar system, stretched steel arms out far over their heads and cut through the air with a rush. FP squeaked joyfully when they passed a carousel that was entirely made up of winged pigs.

  It was almost as if the park was a machine, some kind of vast, extremely complicated device engineered to fulfill a specific purpose. Maybe it was the size of the rides, maybe it was the exacting angles and the perfect geometry, but it seemed somehow unearthly.

  “Have you noticed all the security, Fisher?” Veronica said, still holding Fisher’s hand and pointing subtly through the smiling crowds to the guards patrolling the main fence, which was made of thick steel cabling strung between heavy concrete pylons.

  Fisher had been expecting fat men in short sleeve button-down shirts and Loopity Land baseball caps. But the guards here, like those outside the gates, looked like they belonged on a SWAT team. Helmets, armor, some carrying rifles. They moved briskly and purposefully, patrolling Loopity Land like it was filled with gold and former US presidents.

  “It certainly seems excessive,” Fisher said. “But my mom and dad are probably still on edge. After all, Dr. X did try to steal her top secret formula. Plus, there was the whole Three episode.” But even as he said it, he wasn’t convinced. “Maybe there’s some new, secret technology built into the park that needs protecting?”

  “Knowing your parents,” Veronica said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a time-coaster that does a loop through 1973 in the middle.” She stopped suddenly, squealing. “Fisher, look! Can we play?”

  She was pointing to something that looked like the kind of typical target-shooting booth you’d see at any fair. Except in this case the target was a detailed scale model of a castle wall, and instead of water pistols or a BB gun sitting on the counter, there was a little catapult.

  “Of course,” Fisher said. “Come on.” They stepped up to the polished steel booth. A short man in a blue jumpsuit with a black LL on the chest smiled at him from behind the counter.

  “Morning!” said the worker. “If you’ll take a moment to look behind me, you’ll see various color-coded blocks in the castle wall. Blues are worth five points, greens are ten, and if you hit a red, it’s an instant prize!” He gestured to the sides of the booth where a variety of plushy medieval-themed prizes were displayed. Then he tapped the foot-tall catapult. “The catapult has a number of force settings, marked on the side to the tenth of a Newton. The rack to the side holds ammunition assorted by precise weight.”

  Fisher rolled up the sleeves of his green turtleneck into uneven
bunches as he’d seen Alex do. “Do you have scrap paper and a pencil?” he said.

  The worker produced a pad of paper and a sharp pencil from under the counter. Fisher smiled at Veronica and began his calculations.

  A few neat lines of equations later, Fisher selected a little metal ball of just the right weight, dropped it into the catapult’s basket, set the lever, rotated the siege engine, and pressed the little release toggle. The ball cut a perfect arc through the air and knocked a red block out of the castle wall.

  “And you win a prize!” the worker said. “Take your pick.”

  Fisher turned to Veronica and gestured toward the prizes. She grinned and pointed at a stuffed dragon, which the man picked out and handed to Fisher, who in turn presented it to Veronica.

  “For my lady, the Duchess of Greenwich,” Fisher said, bowing.

  “Why, Sir Fisher, a gallant act indeed,” Veronica replied with a little giggle and a curtsy, reaching for the dragon.

  A massive arm jutted in from nowhere and snatched the stuffed creature away before Veronica could take it. Fisher turned in confusion and horror to see Brody, leader of the Vikings, leering at him.

  “Thanks, Basman,” Brody said, clapping Fisher on the back so hard his glasses nearly flew off his face. “I always wanted one of these.”

  “What are you doing here?” Veronica half hissed. “How did you even get in here?”

  “Why don’t you ask your genius boyfriend to figure it out?” Brody said with a partially toothed smile. “I think I’ll go share an ice cream with my new friend.” With that, Brody lumbered away, clutching the dragon. Veronica’s dragon.

  “Let it go, Fisher,” Veronica said quietly as Fisher nearly lunged after him.

  But Fisher couldn’t let it go. Wrath was flowing like magma through his veins. The world slowed down in Fisher’s perception. He saw Brody’s path as a series of numbers—velocity and distance, trajectory and destination. Without hesitation, he grabbed another metal ball, spun the catapult to face out, loaded, and fired.

  Brody was guffawing to himself when the tiny projectile smacked the back of his head. He stumbled, almost fell, and turned. Fisher could see the mindless rage in his eyes. Which was really the only kind of rage Brody experienced.

  “Time to go,” Fisher said, picking up FP in one hand and grabbing Veronica’s hand with the other. They took off down a path toward the middle of the park. Brody was out of sight behind them by the time they reached an open spot where three paths crossed.

  They almost crashed into Alex and Amanda, running from one direction, and Trevor, Erin, and Warren, running from another.

  “Brody’s here!” Fisher said.

  “So’s Willard!” said Alex.

  “And Leroy,” said Trevor.

  “Come on,” Alex said, “let’s find somewhere to hide.”

  “Um …” Trevor said, craning his neck and pointing. “What about there?”

  Fisher looked up. There it was: the Mega Mars Madness Coaster. He could definitely see the madness part. The M3 ride formed a giant circle, and the track went around and around and around so many times it was wonderfully nauseating just looking at it. The coaster was a giant, tightly woven coil. There weren’t any sudden changes in direction or smaller loops. The thrill came from raw speed. If Fisher remembered the diagrams correctly, the coaster went really, really fast.

  It was perfect. The group headed straight for the M3.

  As they got closer, the coaster’s size became even more apparent, and Fisher felt almost intimidated in its shadow, like a barbarian merchant taking his first look at the Coliseum in Rome.

  But their excitement was short-lived. When the seventh graders reached M3’s entrance they saw why there was no line: A white banner was strung above the waiting cars with big black letters spelling out CLOSED—M3 STILL IN PROGRESS.

  Now, scrutinizing the tracks and supports, Fisher could see that middle of the coaster held a broad circle of perfectly mowed grass. It was at least two hundred feet wide. He couldn’t figure out what the field was for. It looked as though something else was supposed to be there—something that hadn’t been constructed yet.

  “Fisher,” Alex whispered harshly, just as Trevor let out a squeak of fear.

  “Here they come …” Amanda said.

  Fisher turned and saw the Vikings. The trio of almost perfectly cubic beings thudded along the path, their swollen feet hitting the pavement like wet sandbags, their dull, half-lidded eyes probing weakly for any sign of prey.

  Brody, the leader, his forehead sloped like a steamroller, clenched and unclenched fists the size of flowerpots. Willard, the stammerer, whose left eye twitched with the weak, random pulses of his laboring brain. Leroy, the language killer, moved like a pile of laundry falling down a staircase.

  “We’ve handled them before,” Veronica said coolly. “We can do it again.”

  “Yeah,” Fisher said, thinking again of the dragon, which Brody had apparently stolen only to ditch somewhere, probably in the nearest trash can. “Let’s remind them what happens when you mess with the Bas boys.”

  “Wait.” Alex shook his head. “We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile, remember? I don’t think feuding with the Vikings counts.”

  Fisher stared at his brother. For once, Alex was being the rational one. “You’re right,” he admitted. “Come on. There’s room in the cars.” He pointed to the coaster’s open seats. “If we duck, we’ll be okay. And we can plot our revenge some other time.”

  As the Vikings trudged closer, Fisher and his friends sprinted to the cars and hopped in, ducking below the high sides to keep from view. Warren promptly fell asleep, and Trevor had to elbow him when he began snoring.

  “Everyone here?” Fisher whispered. A chorus of quiet “yeses” and “yeps” answered.

  “Where’s FP?” whispered Veronica next to him.

  “Oh, no …” Fisher sighed, sticking his head up. FP was still happily wandering around where they’d left him. “FP!” he said as loudly as he dared. “Come over here, boy!” he beckoned.

  FP noticed him, started wagging his curly tail cheerfully, backed up several paces, dashed forward, and took off, spreading his little leg-wings.

  “Fisher …” Alex warned. Fisher saw it. FP’s trajectory, as usual, was all wrong. He hurdled over them, and straight into the open window of the locked control room.

  There was a beep. Followed by an ominous click.

  Before anyone could react, the coaster started forward with a jerky lurch. It rapidly picked up speed, racing to ascend the first loop. By the time they realized what was happening, it was too late to get out.

  “Everyone into the seats!” shouted Amanda, her voice carried away by the wind. “Lock your harnesses!” Fisher helped lower Veronica’s safety harness into place and then hastily locked his own, and not a moment too soon. The M3’s acceleration picked up, and up and up, with no telling when it would stop.

  A single terrified thought gripped Fisher’s mind, and, clearly, everyone else’s: just how unfinished was this roller coaster?

  When all else fails, whatever you have left will also probably fail.

  —Three, Cell Wall Writings

  Fisher’s eyes began to water as M3 careened around the circular track. The force of acceleration crushed Fisher into the padded seat. That “incomplete” sign had been put there for a reason: the M3 wasn’t ready yet. Any moment, they could hit a spot of missing track they hadn’t seen, and go hurtling through the air like the stone Fisher had catapulted at the castle wall. And they were moving so fast, they probably wouldn’t even know it until they hit the ground hard enough to set off the San Andreas Fault.

  The M3 finished its first full circle and tore into the second with blinding speed as Fisher’s vision blurred into a continuous, full-spectrum blob. It was like someone had dropped a kaleidoscopic fishbowl over his head. The rushing of the wind, the screeching of the tracks, and the screams of the other kids all blended into a smoothie o
f terror.

  The M3 barreled into its second loop. The Vikings must have seen the coaster moving by now. Would they think to try and stop it? Probably not, since it would require that they think, period. Fisher didn’t like the idea of having his life saved by the Vikings, but having his life not be saved would definitely be worse.

  Fisher tried to reach out and put his hand on Veronica’s, but his arm was pinned in place by the velocity of M3. He felt like his joints were about to pop out of place.

  Fisher’s cheeks flared out like a bulldog caught in a high-speed car chase from the wind. He managed to turn and see if Veronica was all right. Veronica’s brilliant golden hair looked like it was being blown dry by a helicopter, but she looked unharmed. He couldn’t see the rest of his friends, but their intermittent yelps and shouts reassured Fisher that they were at least still pinned to their seats.

  An abrupt shift pushed Fisher forward against his harness—they were slowing down! As the trees zipped by, Fisher realized that they were descending.

  Mercifully, the ride finally came to an end, new brakes shrieking, an elephant sitting on Fisher’s chest as the last of the coaster’s momentum was used up. It took Fisher a few seconds to recover his senses and realize the cars had stopped moving. With shaking hands he unlatched his harness and pushed it up away from him. He’d barely shrugged it off when Veronica plunged into his arms, and his already erratic pulse shot right back up into the red.

  “I thought we were going to crash,” she said, leaning into him. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” he said, “I think … I hope I’m still alive.”

  She pulled away slightly, and suddenly her face was four inches from his. A newly activated part of Fisher’s mind started tap-dancing around like its socks had been stuffed with gravel and ghost peppers.

  You’ve seen this moment in movies a million billion times, it said. You know what happens now!

  Fisher wasn’t sure whether to trust this part of his brain.