Doppelganger Danger, page 11
When she opened the case, the kazoo stopped buzzing and lay still. A tiny orange light blinked from the circular opening on top of the instrument. Curiosity clawed at her, but she’d promised her friends she wouldn’t use the kazoo without them. She snapped the case closed, her heart quickening. She plugged her phone into the charger beside her desk, waited for the screen to flicker to life. Once it turned on, she messaged all the cadets, telling them to meet her before school behind the old elementary playground, which was being renovated and would be empty this time of day.
Then she got dressed and ready for school. She carefully placed the kazoo case in her rainbow-striped pencil pouch and secured that inside an interior pocket of her canvas backpack. She left a note for Gramps on the kitchen counter so he wouldn’t worry, then she tiptoed out of the trailer into the pale morning light.
CHAPTER 19
“What’s with the shades?” Lewis asked when Maeve, wearing a pair of dark cat-eye sunglasses, joined the cadets behind the playground’s defunct twisty slide.
The sky was overcast and the towering play structure provided plenty of shade, but Maeve didn’t want the cadets to see her swollen eyes. She tucked her hair behind her ears, getting into character. “You know what they say: The sun never sets on planet cool.” She struck her best movie star pose.
“Yas, Queen. Rock those specs,” Tessa said, dressed to the nines herself in stonewashed designer jeans, a chunky knit sweater, and vegan leather boots. She waved a hand in front of Maeve’s face, assessing the look. “It’s all very celebrity-dodging-paparazzi. I’m getting serious incognito-chic vibes.”
Zoey shot her sister a skeptical look. Unlike Tessa, Zoey preferred function over fashion, opting for comfortable sneakers, basic black leggings, and oversized sweatshirts.
“Incognito-chic is exactly what I was going for,” Maeve replied, striking another pose.
“So?” Isaiah fidgeted. “Why’d you call us here for an emergency meeting?”
“Did something happen with the kazoo?” Dev asked eagerly.
Maeve nodded. She set her backpack down on the ground and removed the kazoo from its hiding place. The orange light blinked. “It started buzzing early this morning. And then this light appeared. I think there might be a message waiting for us.” She lifted the kazoo out of the case and gingerly held it out to Dev.
He cradled it in his palms, inspecting the device. He tapped the orange light. Once, twice.
“Connecting . . . connecting . . .” Ping! “Commencing messaging sequence,” the kazoo announced in a nasally electronic voice.
All of a sudden, a hologram materialized. The cadets gathered round.
This time, the speaker was Secretary Ignatia Leapkeene, leader of the Multiverse Allied Council. Her hair tumbled across her broad shoulders in plaits and whorls. The horns protruding from her temples glowed a deep cerise color. Her eyes were stern and serious.
Zoey, who hadn’t met the secretary before, gawked. Tessa elbowed her. “Try to be cool, will you?”
Unlike the first kazoo message, which was prerecorded, this holovid appeared to be streaming live. “Greetings Earthlings,” Ignatia said, the blue translator crystal glowing from its cord around her neck. “By now, Duna has debriefed you about the multiverse-wide lockdown we’re imposing until the Empyrean One and her associates are apprehended. Aside from a few council-approved agents and our elite sweeper squad, no one is permitted to travel between dimensions at this time. Station Liminus will remain operational, staffed by a skeleton crew. To ensure that everyone, and everything, stays within their home dimensions, we need your help.”
“Our help?” Lewis leaned closer, intrigued by the prospect of a new adventure.
“Anything you need, we’re here.” Maeve lifted her chin, eager for a task to take her mind off her homelife.
“So long as the mission doesn’t fall on Saturday, two weeks from now,” Zoey said. “We have regional marching band championships that day and . . .” Her voice trailed off as the others turned and stared at her.
“What?” She shrunk back a little. “We’ve been practicing for a really long time. The rest of the band is counting on us. Coach Diaz had to cancel practice last Friday because you five were off galivanting who-knows-where.”
“Seriously, Zo?” Tessa hissed. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of this. What Secretary Leapkeene is describing is a big deal.” She locked eyes with her sister. A silent battle raged between the twins.
“Listen,” said Maeve, eager to break up the tension. “I’m sure we can figure out how to do it all. We’ll help the council, and we’ll ace regionals. We’re skilled multitaskers. Right, Cadets?”
Lewis nodded. “We sure are!” He patted his head, rubbed his stomach, and tapped his feet at the same time, as if that helped prove the point.
“Very well,” Ignatia replied, her horns fading to a serene cerulean. “I knew I could depend on you, Earthlings.” She paused. “When we first met, I was not very optimistic about the fate of your dimension, but now that I’ve come to know you better, I have hope.”
The cadets beamed, even Zoey.
Ignatia cleared her throat. “Now, to the issue at hand . . .” The image of her face was replaced by a 3D diagram of some mechanical object. “Along with the communication device we are currently using, I have arranged for an additional piece of equipment to be delivered to you. It is called a Membrane Serger, and it can be used to repair unwanted dimensional openings, such as Rifts or Rips.”
“Just like in sewing,” said Tessa. “Serging is a finishing technique that stops fraying along the seams of fabric.”
“Precisely.” Ignatia’s face reappeared. “A courier has already delivered the Membrane Serger to a secure location within the Station.”
“The Station? As in Station Liminus? How are we supposed to get back there?” Dev asked, thinking of the broken quantum collider at NASA. He doubted they could repair it, even with his dad’s expertise and help.
“Not Station Liminus. Station Snaximus,” Ignatia corrected.
Lewis shook his head in disbelief. “Hold up. You mean the new vending machine at school?”
“Indeed. As you may have deduced, it is more than just a caloric dispensary. Our engineers cleverly disguised it as such, so as not to raise suspicions among other Earthlings. In addition to dispensing snacks, the new vending machine also functions as a juncture box, through which small objects can be transported between Station Liminus and Earth of Dim14 without creating a full-blown interdimensional portal. It is a fairly new invention, and there are still a few bugs to work out. However, it should suffice for our current needs.”
“Okay, that is cosmically, sonically cool,” Lewis said, grinning.
“Due to engineering and conveyance limitations, the Membrane Serger was delivered in pieces, which you will be required to retrieve and assemble.”
The 3D image reappeared. Dev studied the holo-graphic diagram as the parts and pieces came together in slow motion, rotating and attaching, like a live instruction manual.
“As soon as the Serger is operational,” Ignatia continued, “you must use it to close up the remaining membrane anomalies.”
“Anomalies?” Isaiah scratched his head. “I thought Duna said there was a specially trained squad responsible for closing up all the openings and portals?”
Ignatia reappeared, her violet eyes steely. “There is, and they completed their work on your planet yesterday. However, shortly after they departed, scans revealed three rogue Rips. Either our team missed these openings during their sweep—which is highly unlikely—or the tears formed late last night, after our team had already left your dimension.”
“Hmm, that’s weird,” Lewis said, scrunching up his eyebrows.
Maeve’s stomach somersaulted. Her memory flashed backward to the burst of light on the dark hillside, the electrical charge rippling across her skin. Could she have somehow caused the Rips to form? Sometimes she felt like her world was falling to pieces, but could sadness actually cleave apart the universe? She readjusted her sunglasses, grateful the others couldn’t see her eyes.
“Can’t the special squad come back to fix the openings?” Tessa asked. “I’m all for a high-tech sewing project, but wouldn’t that be easier than having us do it?”
Ignatia stiffened. “Unfortunately, that is not possible. Our team must stick to a rigid schedule. Especially if we are to secure the multiverse and prevent Scopes and the Empyrean One from causing further disaster. Cadets, we need you to close the openings as soon as possible to prevent any cross-dimensional transmissions.”
“Like unwanted visitors?” Lewis said, picturing a toothy colossadon lumbering across the Threshold.
Ignatia nodded. “Exactly.”
Isaiah regarded the holovid, studying Ignatia’s face. “Wait, where are the Rips? What if they’re on the other side of the country, or across the ocean? What if we can’t get to them soon enough, or at all?”
Ignatia’s horns shifted to deep umber. “That shouldn’t be a problem. All three openings are located on the outskirts of Conroy.”
Isaiah sucked in a breath. “Three? Right here in Conroy?”
“Yes. They appear to be part of a cluster formation, a grouping of tears located within close proximity.”
“Is that common?” Dev asked.
“No. It is a very rare occurrence.” Her face was stern. “Clusters like this occasionally form when doppelgangers interact, which can destabilize dimensional membranes. Our analysts believe there may have been physical contact between an Earthling and one of their doppelgangers.”
The cadets were silent. Maeve bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. Maybe she hadn’t imagined the hand on her shoulder after all. But how could that be? The hilltop was dark and empty. She would have seen another person standing beside her. Right?
“This leads me to my next point,” Ignatia said. “After departing Station Liminus from Gate Hall, did you travel directly back to your home dimension?”
Dev gulped. “Um, no. We, ah, took a slight detour.”
“An accidental detour,” Maeve added anxiously. “Totally unintended. Definitely not the scenic route.” She shuddered, envisioning the parched, desolate landscape.
“I was afraid you might say that.” Ignatia sighed. “Please, cadets. I must know exactly what occurred during your journey home.”
They took turns recounting the entire ordeal. When they had finished, Ignatia tapped a finger to her angular chin. “This complicates matters. Are you certain you saw no one else during your time on this Other-Earth?”
“Aside from the dragomander, smogmonster, and a small rodent that ran in front of our wiener-mobile, we didn’t see anything remotely alive,” Maeve told her. “There were signs of life in the distance—lights blinking and smoke puffing from a factory—but the city center appeared to be completely abandoned.”
“Still, you may not have been as alone as you believe. There are beings within the multiverse who possess remarkable talent for camouflage, not to mention inventions capable of rendering individuals invisible, allowing them to hide in plain sight.”
Maeve was dizzy, her head swirling with ideas and doubts and questions. She pictured the warning scrawled on the locker, the message scribbled in chalk in the band room—all in Maeve’s own distinct, slanted handwriting. Yet, she hadn’t written any of them.
“Do you believe anyone followed you through the portal created by your music?” Ignatia probed.
The cadets shook their heads.
“Not that we noticed,” Dev said, worry creeping into his voice. “We landed on the stage of the city auditorium. As soon as we hit the ground, the portal disappeared completely. We haven’t played those instruments since then either, just to be safe.”
Ignatia’s horns darkened to a deep wine hue. “Good. Do not, under any circumstances, use those instruments. At least not until we can better understand their capabilities. The creation of unsanctioned portals is strictly prohibited under our new edict. There will be serious consequences for those who breach this law.”
“We understand,” Dev said.
“If one of your doppelgangers did follow you, you must be vigilant. Avoid close encounters with them at all costs.”
Goose bumps pricked Maeve’s skin. She shivered and glanced over her shoulder, worried someone was watching them. The playground was quiet and empty, the slides and climbing structures cordoned off with construction cones and caution tape. The hologram flickered in and out as the floating pixels began to disperse.
“Ignatia? Ignatia?” Dev said, shaking the kazoo, which buzzed and crackled. “Argh. The connection’s breaking up.”
He tapped some of the buttons and Ignatia appeared again briefly, a ghostly pale version of herself. Her mouth opened and closed, her voice slightly out of sync, like a movie dubbed in another language. The sound came through in fragmented bursts, interrupted by static.
“Retrieve . . . Serger . . . Mend . . . Rips . . . Protect . . . multiverse . . . Proceed . . . caution . . . Report . . . progress . . . Await . . . message . . . Counting . . . on you.”
Em arrived at the playground in time to see the cadets gathered around the kazoo. When she tried to get closer to hear the message more clearly, her presence (or perhaps her proximity to Maeve) disrupted the kazoo’s signal, chopping the secretary’s parting words into fragments. But Em had heard enough to understand what was happening.
She couldn’t deny that she’d felt something deep and important when she’d followed Maeve the night before. But that kinship faded in the daylight, dimming even more as she listened to Secretary Leapkeene speak.
If she didn’t act quickly, she would be trapped on Earth of Dim14 indefinitely. Which was not ideal. She had no home here, no kin. Finding food and shelter was a constant struggle, though not as bad as on Other-Earth. She’d spent last night dining on vending machine granola bars and sleeping in an empty backyard treehouse structure with a leaky roof and far too many spiders. While the humans here were surprisingly kind (with the exception of a few middle school snobs), the climate was wildly unstable, and the attire was problematic. She reached behind her and tugged at her green mesh gym shorts, which kept riding up her buttocks in a most unpleasant way. She regretted changing out of her Empryrean zilks and made a mental note to retrieve the armored suit from its hiding place in the girls’ locker room as soon as possible.
Shivers and wedgies aside, Em had more important issues to deal with. Like proving her worth to her aunt and returning to her home dimension lauded as a hero. She flexed her fingers and cracked her knuckles. Her purpose and her path were clear. She would steal the kazoo and flee through one of the last remaining Rips today, before the cadets sealed them shut.
She checked the zipper on her hoodie and marched toward Conroy Middle School, pushing aside emotion, girding herself against the complicated tangle of feelings threatening to trip her up and lead her astray. There was no more time to waste.
CHAPTER 20
“Did Ignatia just give us permission to skip school?” Lewis asked a little too eagerly as Dev carefully placed the kazoo back in its case.
Zoey shot Lewis a look. “I cannot skip school today. I have an important algebra quiz fifth period.”
Tessa groaned. “Chill out, Zo. You have A’s in all your classes. One missed quiz isn’t the end of the world.”
Zoey sniffed. “Actually, I have an A+ in math, but who’s keeping track . . .”
“OMG, you’re so annoying!” Tessa tossed her long, dark braids over her shoulder and applied another swipe of gloss to her lips.
Zoey turned to face her sister and narrowed her eyes. “If you think I’m soooo annoying, then why don’t you go back and hang out with your popular friends? Leave us real cadets alone. We were fine before you came along.”
“Oh, really?” Tessa glanced at the others. “I’m pretty sure my singing saved their lives at one point. Besides, I am a cadet now, whether you like it or not. And they’re my friends, too,” she said sincerely. “You said I should try putting myself in your shoes. You even dared me to do it! And I did. Even though you wear hideous shoes.”
Zoey’s face flushed with anger. “When I said put yourself in my shoes, I didn’t think you’d sashay in and runway stomp all over my life!”
“I’m stomping all over your life? Are you kidding me?” Tessa scowled. “You can’t stand to share the limelight. That’s why you’re clinging to your perfect grades so desperately, because it makes you feel better than me. But I bring a lot to this group, too. And not just because I serve the fiercest lewks.” She jutted out her chin and pouted her glossed lips. “Honestly, what’s more important: your GPA or the fate of the multiverse? Have a little perspective, Zo.”
“A little perspective? Are you kidding me?” Zoey practically shouted.
Isaiah whistled. “So much for the Hawthorne-Scott Twin Truce,” he said under his breath. “That peace treaty lasted what? A day?”
“Barely. Should we intervene?” Maeve whispered back.
“Interdimensional diplomacy is one thing. Inter-sister diplomacy on the other hand? I’m not sure I want to tango with that.” Isaiah edged away from the warring twins.
“Well, we can’t waste any more time listening to them argue.” Maeve planted her hands on her hips.
Lewis stepped between Zoey and Tessa, flashing his signature smile, hoping a little charm might help ease the mounting tension. “Hey, I’m no valedictorian, but I’m pretty sure this whole membrane fixer-upper mission is a lot more important than some algebra quiz.”
Dev nodded in agreement. “I bet Mr. Phipps would understand, Zoey. He might even let us make up the quiz another day.”
