The Double Helix (Book 3) Page 16

They flew across the church.

  “At home both in the clouds and under the sea,” whispered Sailor.

  Emmett slapped Cruz’s shoulder. “It’s a fird, a combination bird and fish.”

  Sailor chuckled. “Or a birsh.”

  “It must be under the mosaic,” said Cruz softly. “Remember, Mom said, ‘if you’re willing to reach out, you’ll have your reward.’ ”

  They understood. Cruz was supposed to touch the mosaic. Unfortunately, the barriers made it clear no one was supposed to touch anything. The trio casually glanced around.

  The group of elderly tourists was leaving. When the couple with the baby turned to walk down the aisle on the opposite side of the church, Cruz slipped an arm under the lowest wooden slat of the barrier. The tiny glass stones felt cool and gritty under his fingertips. Patting the floor, he felt for loose tiles. Nothing. He tried to wedge a fingernail under them. He covered the whole mosaic, but not a single tile moved.

  “Be sure to check them all.” Emmett was on his toes, peering over the top of the barrier.

  Cruz grunted, his cheek smooshed against the wood. “I am.”

  “Check the spiral frame, too,” reminded Sailor.

  Cruz stuck his other hand under the barrier, his fingers gliding over the twisted rope mosaic flowing past the salamander’s belly. Everything was solid.

  “Uh…Cruz?” Sailor said softly.

  “Wait a second. I’ll try farther down the frame.” Flattening himself onto his belly, Cruz was able to extend his reach.

  “Cruz?”

  “One sec.” He strained, wiggling his fingers to gain a few more inches.

  “Cruz!”

  “What?” He turned his head.

  A pair of black zip boots was inches from his nose. His eyes traveled slowly up, over a pair of straight black pants to a black high-collar shirt to the grim face of a man about his dad’s age. Dark eyes turned to slits. It was one of the tour group guides. He was crooking his finger at Cruz. Behind him stood a sheepish Emmett and Sailor, their eyes down, their hands clasped.

  “Uh…hi,” Cruz said lightly, going up on his knees. “We’re from Explorer Academy, and we were, you know…exploring.”

  “Yes, well, from now on, please explore from behind the barricades. If one of the security guards catches you…” He shook his head.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s almost four o’clock,” said the guide. “We’ll be closing soon anyway, so you should start back to the main entrance now. The sun goes down behind the hills at four thirty, and you do not want to get caught in here after dark. There are no lights in Petra.”

  “We will. Thanks.” Cruz stood and brushed sand from the knees of his pants.

  Picking up his pack, he shuffled toward the doorway. Emmett and Sailor joined him, one on each side. The three of them exchanged worried looks. There was nothing they could do. They had to leave. The tour guide was watching.

  “What now?” hissed Emmett as they made their way down the hill.

  “I don’t know,” sighed Cruz. “Maybe we had the wrong mosaic. Or the wrong place? I don’t know.”

  He had been so sure they’d find the cipher. Where had they gone wrong?

  Sailor slung an arm around Cruz’s shoulder. “We’ll come back tomorrow. We’ll try again.”

  Swallowing a lump, he nodded. What else could they do?

  As the sun slipped low in the sky, the explorers followed the rest of the tourists heading for the exit. They were disappointed and tired and hungry. They walked quickly. No one spoke. With the deepening of the evening shadows, the walls of the Siq seemed even tighter and taller than when they had come through the first time. The surrounding rock magnified the voices and laughter of the hikers descending the cliff trails. The explorers were past the Treasury when Emmett stopped in his tracks. “Uh-oh.”

  Cruz glanced at him. “What?”

  He grimaced. “I think I left my GPS glasses in the Byzantine church.”

  Sailor and Cruz groaned. They watched as their friend rummaged through his backpack.

  “They’re not here.” Emmett shook his head. “Taryn’s gonna kill me if I lose those. I have to go back. Can you guys watch my pack? I’ll run faster without it.” He backed away. “Or go on ahead, if you want. I’ll catch up…”

  “Emmett, no! We should all stay together.” Cruz tossed Emmett’s pack onto his free shoulder. Immediately, he sagged under the weight of it. Geez, what did Emmett have in there anyway?

  “I’ll go with him,” said Sailor. “You stay and watch our stuff.” She wriggled out of her pack and dropped it at Cruz’s feet. “We won’t be long.”

  “That’ll give me a chance to call Taryn,” said Cruz. “I promised I’d check in.”

  He watched Sailor vanish around the corner. Cruz swept their backpacks to the side of the narrow passage so no one would trip over them, before taking off his own pack to add to the pile. Leaning against the curved stone wall, Cruz drank some water. The number of tourists was dwindling. He made the call to Taryn.

  “Everything okay?” she asked. “You sound beat.”

  “Never better,” he said, even though he knew she would see through the lie. “How’s Hubbard?”

  “Missing you. He’s not the only one.”

  “We’ll be back tomorrow night on schedule.”

  “Okay. In the meantime, be sure and let me know if you need anything.”

  “I will.”

  “And be careful.”

  “Of what?” he asked, trying to sound like he was doing nothing more than hanging out with his friends.

  “Knowing you, I’d say everything.”

  Snickering, Cruz said goodbye. He wanted to call Lani or his aunt, except it was 3 a.m. back home.

  Bored with waiting, he dug his mind-control camera out of his pack. Cruz placed the lightweight, flat metal strip on his head. He popped the lens down over his right eye to turn the camera on. All he had to do to take a picture was think the word “photo” and shut his eyes. The camera would sync up with his brain waves and do the rest. First, Cruz took a few shots of the canyon walls. Stepping into the center of the thin path, he tilted his head back. Above the ravine walls, he saw a wedge of twilight. The sky was turning a deep rose orange. Aunt Marisol would love this. Lani, too.

  Photo.

  He spun the other way, his head still back, to get a different angle.

  Photo.

  Cruz saw something move overhead. Was it a plane? It seemed to be getting closer—almost falling. He heard a scream.

  “Rocks!”

  CRUZ was suddenly rolling.

  Everything was a blur. He heard thunder. Saw red. Tasted sand. When at last his body tumbled to a stop, Cruz was on his back, his left leg bent under him. A cloud of dust was settling. His lungs burned. His back hurt. Something was weighing him down. He felt a swish across his neck. The weight lifted. A face appeared. It was her—the girl he’d seen at the Treasury and at the roadside stand.

  Blue-gray eyes peered through a tangle of blond hair. “You okay?”

  He coughed. “I…I think so.”

  She pushed her hair back and crawled backward to rest on her knees. “That was close.”

  Unwrapping his legs, Cruz sat up. It felt like he’d been punched in the side. Hard.

  “Sorry ’bout that.” The girl was brushing sand from her top. “I had to sort of…tackle you to get you out of the path of the falling rocks.” She had an accent similar to that of Weatherly Bright, one of the explorers, who was from England.

  “Seriously?” He rubbed his waist. “You…you pushed me out of the way?”

  “It was either that or watch you become a pancake.”

  Cruz surveyed the debris that surrounded him—pebbles, stones, and a couple of larger bowling-ball-size boulders. His eyes traveled up the never-ending canyon walls, now painted a cherry red by the fading light. He heard no one in the cliffs above, but his mind rushed to one conclusion: Nebula. He pushed the thought away.
They wouldn’t go so far as to follow him here, would they? Dumb question. Of course they would.

  Standing, the girl swept the sand from her jeans, then held out a hand to Cruz. He took it and got to his feet. He picked up his mind-control camera, which had been knocked clean off of him. Cruz hoped it wasn’t broken.

  She glanced around. “Weren’t you with some friends?”

  “Uh, yeah. One of them forgot something…back in Petra.”

  “Well, they’d better hurry. It’s almost the end of the day, and once the sun goes down, it’s pitch-black in here.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be back any—”

  What had she just said?

  Of course! How could he have forgotten his mom’s clue: It may seem like a strange mythical creature, but at the end of the day, if you’re willing to reach out, you’ll have your reward.

  They had been at the right place, just not at the right time. Cruz was supposed to be at the Byzantine church at sunset. It had to be close to sunset now!

  The girl was studying him. “Are you sure you didn’t bonk your head?”

  “No…I mean, yes…Sorry, I’ve got to go.” He ran for the backpacks. Cruz flung Emmett’s pack on his left shoulder, Sailor’s on his right, and, clutching his own pack to his chest, turned back toward Petra. “Thanks again…who are you?”

  She walked backward away from him. “Does it matter? Be careful, okay? I can’t always be around to save your neck from Nebula.”

  Stunned, Cruz dropped his backpack. “Wait!” he called, but she had turned. She slipped into the thin gap between the rock walls and was gone.

  He couldn’t go after her. Juggling all three of their packs, Cruz headed toward Petra. At the amphitheater, he met his friends coming the other way. “We have…to go back…to the church,” gasped Cruz.

  “Again?” moaned Emmett. “Why?”

  “Rocks fell…girl saved me…I’ll explain later, but I…we…forgot the rest of the clue. We were supposed to be at the church…at the end of the day.”

  “The clue! The end of the day!” Sailor was putting it together now. “Uh-oh. The tour guide said the sun sets at four thirty.”

  Emmett checked his OS band. “It’s four eighteen now.”

  “That gives us twelve minutes,” gulped Cruz. “If we hurry, we might be able to make it.”

  Everyone grabbed a pack, and they took off at full speed down the Street of Facades and up the hill to the Byzantine church. Halfway up the slope, Emmett stopped. He fell forward at the waist, his hands on his knees. “You guys go ahead…I can’t…”

  “Oh yes you can,” said Cruz, grabbing Emmett’s heavy pack.

  Sailor grabbed Emmett.

  They made it to the church ruins as the sun was dipping behind the hills. The sanctuary was empty. Dropping their backpacks at the entrance, the trio raced across the church to the half columns and wooden barricades protecting the mosaic floor. His sides aching, Cruz fell to his knees beside the broken stone column in front of the bird-fish mosaic. He flung his arms under the slats of the barricade. Cruz slapped his left palm onto the tiles of the bird-fish and his right hand onto the twisting pattern of tiles beside it—just to cover all his bases. “Okay, Mom, I’m reaching out,” he huffed. “What time is it?”

  “Four twenty-eight,” croaked Emmett.

  Cruz’s chest was heaving. His brain was reeling. He clamped his eyes shut. He hoped this would work. This was the only sunset they were going to get in Petra, his only shot at finding the cipher. Cruz could hear his heartbeat thumping in his head. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

  His right cheek felt warm. Cruz opened his eyes. A ray of light was shining through a small hole in the front stone wall of the church. The sunbeam shot across the length of the mosaic floor and was broken only by Cruz’s head. He pulled his neck back a few inches so it wouldn’t blind him, and the sun hit the column. In the golden light, Cruz saw something on the column he hadn’t seen before: a hairline crack. The fracture went down and across the pillar, forming a rectangular shape. It made four perfect sides—maybe a little too perfect. What had Professor Luben taught them? He’d said nature was random. Abstract. Unique. Only humans were precise.

  If that was true…

  “Four twenty-nine,” announced Emmett.

  A drawer! It had to be a secret drawer! If Cruz hadn’t been kneeling with his hands placed just so on the floor, he would never have seen it. He also knew that if he lifted his hands, he would no longer be reaching out to the bird-fish, as the clue had instructed. “Guys!” he hissed. “The column next to me has some kind of drawer in it. You’ll have to lean in to me to see it.”

  Sailor was beside him, her head down. “Got it! Placing her thumbs along the top part of the crack and her fingers on the bottom, she began to tug. “It’s really stuck in there.”

  “Let me help,” said Emmett, squatting.

  They clawed at the stone, prying and pulling, grunting and groaning.

  “It’s no use,” spit Sailor. “It won’t budge.”

  “Giving it…one…more…try!” Emmett lost his grip and fell backward. “She’s right. It’s stuck.”

  The three of them looked at one another, then at the floor, where a sliver of sunlight was crossing the bird-fish mosaic. Cruz felt its warmth on his fingertips for about 30 seconds. The beam passed over his hand, then vanished.

  “It’s four thirty,” whispered Emmett.

  Was that it?

  Nothing was happening. Cruz felt himself go limp. He dropped his head. What had he done wrong now? He was about to take his hands off the mosaic, about to give up, when he saw a white flash.

  “Look!” cried Sailor.

  Cruz lifted his head. The eye of the birsh! Sitting in the space between the third and fourth fingers of his left hand, the eye was glowing!

  “It’s gotta be some kind of sensor,” whispered Emmett.

  Cruz inched his index finger over the black tiles that rimmed the eye, then onto the white and finally the lit black pupil.

  They waited. And waited. And waited. Sailor sighed. “Maybe we’re supposed to—”

  Eeeee-rrrrk!

  It was the earsplitting sound of stone grinding against stone. The drawer was opening! It was sliding out of the side of the curved column. “Yes!” shouted Cruz.

  Emmett and Sailor carefully eased the drawer out the rest of the way. There, inside the chamber, was a miniature aqua parchment envelope. Two heads turned to Cruz. His hands trembling, Cruz reached inside the drawer and took out the envelope. There was no writing on it. He slid his finger under the back flap. He tipped the envelope, and the tattered folds of an aqua paper slid into his palm. It had weight to it. There was something inside. Holding his breath, Cruz peeled back one fold, then another. Lifting the third fold, his breath caught as he saw the slice of black marble.

  They had done it! They had found the third cipher.

  As day turned to night in the ancient city of Petra, three tired, hungry, and very happy explorers sat on the cool stone floor of a 1,600-year-old church.

  Nobody said a word. Nobody had to.

  TROTTING UP the steps to the fourth deck of Orion, Cruz shoved his hands into his pockets. His fingers closed around the cipher: three pieces of black stone now firmly attached to one another by their jigsaw-puzzle-like knobs and curved indentations.

  “Hey, Cruz!” Turning, Cruz waited for Zane Patrick to catch up. “So are we ever going to get the scoop about where you, Emmett, and Sailor went over the weekend?”

  “I told you already.” He tried to play it cool. “We went ashore with Captain Iskandar to talk to some kids who are thinking about applying to the Academy. We told them what it’s like and stuff. No big deal. You’ll probably get asked to do it, too.” Cruz clamped his lips tight. Was he talking too much? He sounded like he was talking too much.

  Zane lifted his chin, as if he wasn’t quite sure if he believed him.

  Cruz needed to change the subject. Now. “Your team must be excited
about going to Egypt, though, huh?”

  “Egypt?”

  “Yeah, you won the maze challenge, so I figured—”

  “Oh, so you haven’t heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  “We’re going to Turkey.”

  “What?”

  “Turkey, you know, the country?”

  “I know the country, Zane, what I meant was—”

  “Dugan told us about your looting tile. Said Professor Luben thinks it could be some kind of lost tomb or city or some big archaeological find and that we ought to go explore it. So we took a team vote and Turkey won.”

  Cruz was stunned. “Dugan convinced you to go to our site. Dugan? Marsh?”

  Zane gave him a smirk. “He’s not such a bad guy, you know.”

  “I know,” said Cruz. He still didn’t know why Dugan might have to leave the Academy. He had tried asking him about it when they were alone in the explorers’ passage, but Dugan had shrugged it off: “Forget it. I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

  Cruz wasn’t so sure.

  Zane headed for the next flight of stairs. “You coming up to watch the Leonids?”

  “Yeah, but I have something to do first.”

  Cruz knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. They had been back from Petra for four days and the ship would be putting in at Istanbul in less than 48 hours. He was running out of time to make copies of the cipher. Since Professor Luben’s lessons hadn’t involved the explorers using their PANDA units, Cruz had no choice but to take matters into his own hands. He was on his way to the tech lab to ask Fanchon—beg, if necessary—to let him borrow a PANDA.

  Orion’s science tech lab was located in the forward compartment of the fourth deck. It was divided into a maze of cubicles, each containing a technological wonder in various stages of development. As Cruz entered, he kept his hands in his pockets. He knew better than to touch anything. Or talk to it.

  “Fanchon?” In the greenish glow of the lab, Cruz went up on his toes to see over the cubicles. “Dr. Vanderwick?”

  Inside a nearby cubicle, he saw two large glass globes, one on top of the other, connected in the middle with a tube in the shape of a figure eight and a pump. Inside the lower globe, three green marbles were bouncing around in what appeared to be water. Those marbles sure looked like—