The Double Helix (Book 3) Read online

  As he watched Zane scan the cream-colored rock, Cruz’s hand went to the two interlocking pieces of stone he wore around his neck hidden beneath his shirt. His mother had engraved her formula into black marble. Would any of her DNA, he wondered, be on it? Probably not. But maybe. It would be fun to see if the PANDA could pick up any traces. Of course, he couldn’t scan it here. Not in front of everyone. The PANDA units were issued to the explorers only for training or fieldwork, so they weren’t allowed to take them back to their cabins.

  Maybe another time…

  The email icon on Cruz’s tablet was blinking. It was probably Aunt Marisol checking in to let him know she was on her way to Kauai. It was a long journey—7,000 miles—and would take her two days. She had a stop in New Jersey and an overnight layover in LA. It was against the rules to check mail during class. He would only take a quick peek, just to make sure her plane had taken off okay. Tapping the mail icon, he began to read…

  Sailor was nudging him. “Think Dugan even knows what a coprolite is? Dibs on getting to be the one to tell him he was holding fossilized cat poop. Cruz? Is something wrong?”

  Speechless, Cruz tipped his tablet so Sailor could see the message for herself.

  We have your father. He is unharmed and will remain so, provided you tell no one about this note and follow our instructions. You will be given more details at the explorer Halloween party. Don’t miss it. No tricks.

  Sailor gasped. “Nebula?”

  “Who else?”

  As they looked on, the note on Cruz’s screen blurred, then turned into thousands of tiny squares. One by one, each of the pixels faded to black. It was as if the message had never been there at all.

  Poof!

  STARING at the door, goose bumps rippled down Cruz’s arms.

  COMPUTER ANIMATED VIRTUAL EXPERIENCE

  Nebula, he knew, was on the other side of that door. Waiting for him.

  This was supposed to have been a fun night in the CAVE celebrating Halloween. Some of the explorers had never heard of the holiday, which fell on October 31, so Taryn had given them a brief history. She’d explained how the festivities first arose from Ireland’s Gaelic harvest feast of Samhain, when the Celts believed the ghosts of the dead returned to Earth. It was customary to calm the spirits by offering them treats. When the Irish immigrated to America, they brought the tradition with them. Over time, the ghostly holiday had evolved into a night where younger children went door-to-door collecting candy (trick-or-treating), while older kids and adults went to costume parties with spooky themes, games, and food. Ever since Taryn had told them that Orion would host a Halloween party, Cruz had been looking forward to it. Now he wanted it to be over.

  Cruz glanced at his two friends, all dressed up in their costumes. Emmett had parted his hair in the middle and slicked down both sides with gel. A fake black mustache kept falling off his upper lip. Wearing a gray tweed suit and high-collared white shirt, Emmett was dressed up for the party as inventor Nikola Tesla. In case nobody figured it out, he was also carrying a miniature Tesla model car. Sailor was going as scientist Marie Curie. She wore a long black cotton dress that swept the floor behind her boots. She’d piled her thick hair up into a bun. In case nobody got her costume, she had pinned to her collar a plastic yellow triangle with a three-pronged black fan—the warning symbol for radioactive material. Cruz wore a purple-and-white Hawaiian-print shirt, a pair of blue board shorts, and sandals. He did not, however, have on the one thing he usually wore: the cipher. It felt strange, not having the lanyard around his neck. But he had no intention of handing the stones over to Nebula until he knew, for sure, his dad was free. It wasn’t easy to leave the cipher behind, even though it was in a safe place. He hoped. Under his arm, Cruz carried a surfboard that was a third the size of a real one. He’d made it with the 3D printer he and Emmett shared. He’d painted the board to look like the North Atlantic right whale calf he’d talked to during Operation Cetacean Extrication. The art had taken him a whole week to finish. Now all the hours he had put into the surfboard no longer mattered. He was here for one reason: to get his father back safely.

  “Ready?” asked Emmett, and when Cruz nodded, he lifted his wrist to the security camera. The device read his Open Sesame band, and a moment later, the door began to move.

  The mini CAVE, as they called the simulator on board Orion, was smaller than the regular CAVE back at Academy headquarters but identical in every other way. Combining holographic imagery, thermal radiation technology, 3D printing, and climate controls, the CAVE created a lifelike experience. It could be programmed to reproduce any environment in the world, from a bustling street in Paris to a remote jungle in the Amazon. Some aspects of the CAVE were real, such as atmospheric conditions and necessary solid objects (these were created using a 3D printer). Other features were virtual but felt real, like holo-thermal videos. Reach for an image and the heat from your body reacted with it to produce a sensation, tricking your brain into thinking you were touching an actual object. Cruz could have studied all the science behind it, the way Emmett did, but preferred not to. It was a bit like watching a magician. It was more fun if you didn’t know how the trick was done.

  Cruz felt his friends’ eyes on him. Emmett and Sailor were waiting for him to go into the CAVE first. He could see only darkness ahead. Drawing in a sharp breath, Cruz stepped inside the compartment. His teammates followed, the door sliding closed behind them. Almost immediately, the trio was engulfed in a thick fog. Between the mist and the darkness, Cruz couldn’t see the hand he’d raised in front of his face. It smelled like dirt. And popcorn balls. A wolf howled. Sailor’s fingers were digging into his right arm. “Easy, Sailor.” Cruz winced. “It’s only a simulation.”

  “I know that,” she said calmly from behind his left shoulder.

  The grip loosened. The clouds parted, and a full harvest moon revealed Emmett’s face. “Sorry.” He shrugged.

  As the mist cleared, Cruz realized they were standing on the rickety porch of an old house. The structure was leaning to the right, yellow paint peeling off the siding in curly tendrils. The porch light flickered. A ghostly young girl with red eyes and seaweed hair leaned out the attic window. “Help me, Cruz! Please, Sailor! Help me, Emmett!” she moaned, before slipping back behind torn curtains.

  “Taryn did a good job with this program,” said Emmett, swatting at a bat that was trying to land in his hair. “This place is pretty creepy.”

  The front door swung open with a spine-chilling creak. “Welcome, guys and ghouls!” cried Fanchon. She was wearing an apple green apron that read Brainy Girls Rock over a purple tie-dyed tee and ripped jeans. A tiger-print scarf was wrapped around her head. Plastic safety goggles, chunky earrings, and a pair of orange flip-flops completed the look. In the dim light, it took Cruz a moment to see he’d been wrong. It wasn’t Fanchon at all.

  “Taryn!” Cruz laughed. “Great costume.”

  “Thanks!”

  “You didn’t borrow anything from Fanchon’s real lab, did you? ’Cause I can tell you from experience, her sensotivia gel is not very friendly.”

  “Hey! Are you picking on my lab experiments?” A head with cropped brown hair popped around the door. Wearing a short wig, a red turtleneck with a gold badge that read Taryn, and a red-and-gray plaid skirt, Cruz recognized their tech lab chief. She held a half-knitted scarf and a stuffed white dog in a yellow life vest under her arm—Hubbard, of course. Fanchon and Taryn had dressed up as each other!

  Once inside, Cruz’s eyes roved around the black hexagonal foyer lit in spooky hues of purple and green. Above them, holographic witches flew around a cobweb-covered chandelier on their brooms and cackled with wicked delight.

  “Every room has something different to do,” explained Taryn. “There’s Bobbing for Eyeballs, Wrap the Mummy, Build Your Own Monster, Tombstone Dash, and Mystery Box. Oh, and if a zombie grabs you, you have to go and help haunt the cemetery for ten minutes to spook the contestants running in the dash. Food i
s in the dining room, but stay out of the kitchen because Chef Kristos is in there and you know how he hates to have anyone around while he cooks.” She touched Cruz’s arm. “And, you, stop looking so worried. Nobody’s grading you. The surveillance cameras are off. None of your professors are here. This is for explorers only. So relax and have fun.”

  “I will,” he said, trying to squelch the panic in his gut.

  They heard creaking boards.

  “More guests!” Taryn rushed to answer the door again.

  Cruz, Emmett, and Sailor cautiously shuffled toward the center of the hexagonal foyer.

  “How are you supposed to find Nebula?” Emmett swiped a cobweb out of their path.

  “I have a feeling they’ll find me,” whispered Cruz, his legs melting a bit with each step.

  Cruz had told his roommate about the note he’d received and his suspicion that Nebula had his father. Both Emmett and Sailor had promised to stay close tonight.

  They had four choices: turn right into the dining room, go left into the living room, continue straight down a narrow hall, or go up the stairs. They could hear cheering from the living room. Cruz peered in. Ali and Matteo were trying to wrap a mummy. They were competing against Weatherly and Felipe, from Team Galileo, and losing badly. About a dozen explorers had gathered around the competitors to cheer them on.

  “Hey, guys!” called Bryndis from across the foyer. She was in the dining room, next to a bubbling cauldron. White foam tubes were coiled around her long-sleeved white tee and matching ballet tutu and tights. She’d made a headpiece out of a couple of the foam tubes. A coating of silver glitter covered everything, even her white blond hair. Bryndis looked like a white-chocolate-covered pretzel, but that couldn’t be her costume, could it? Seeing Cruz’s puzzled expression, she grinned. “I’m bleached coral. Lame, huh?”

  “No! Cool!” Leave it to Bryndis to come up with a clever environmental costume.

  She dipped a ladle into the cauldron. “Want some punch, surfer dude?”

  “Okay.” Having the other explorers around was making Cruz feel a little more at ease. Everybody was having a good time. Nebula wouldn’t try anything in front of everyone, would they?

  “We’re out of cups,” said Bryndis. “There are more in the kitchen—”

  “I’ll get them,” said Sailor, reaching for the door handle.

  “Sailor, that’s not—”

  But it was too late. The moment Sailor cracked the door, two greenish hands popped out of the pantry and latched on to her arm. A holographic zombie began to wrap chains around her wrist. “Bloody undead,” groaned Sailor as the zombie led her away. “See you in a bit. I hope.”

  “Bring cups on your way back,” giggled Bryndis. She turned to Emmett and Cruz. “So what do you guys want to do? Build a monster? Bob for eyeballs?”

  “Taryn said something about a mystery box,” said Emmett. “Is that a game?”

  “Uh-huh. You wear a blindfold and put your hands in a box to identify what’s inside. I’ve done it already. It’s fun! Come on, I’ll show you where it is.” She reached for Cruz’s hand.

  He felt a jolt of static electricity. Bryndis jumped, and he knew she’d felt it, too.

  Bryndis led them out of the dining room and down the narrow hall. “Taryn says the explorer that guesses the most items correctly gets a prize at the end of the party. I got five right. If you miss even one, you’re out.”

  “How many are there?” asked Emmett.

  “Nobody knows. They’re holo-thermal, so as long as you keep guessing correctly, you’ll get a new one. Last I heard, Felipe had gotten the most: ten. Here it is.” Stopping in front of a silver door, Bryndis nodded to the square light next to it that was off. “The light’s not on, so nobody’s inside. Only one person can go in at a time. Who wants to be first?”

  Cruz was about to volunteer, when he felt a tapping on his chest. Seconds later, his honeybee drone flew out of his shirt pocket. Hovering near his head, Mell flashed her golden eyes.

  “Security breach,” said Emmett, glancing at his OS band. “Somebody’s tripped a sensor in our cabin. I don’t have my tablet—didn’t think I’d need it tonight. It’s probably a false alarm, but I’d better go up and check it out.” He looked at Cruz, his eyes widening behind square gray frames. “You’ll be okay?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Cruz tried to sound confident, but an uneasy feeling crept over him. Their plan to stick together had fallen apart. First Sailor had left, and now Emmett…

  His roommate backed away. Slowly. Reluctantly.

  Cruz watched him go, then turned to face the silver door. Alone.

  “I’ll hold your surfboard,” offered Bryndis.

  “Thanks.” He handed it to her.

  She smiled. “You’ve got this.”

  Cruz took a deep breath and headed inside. The square room was dark but for a narrow spotlight shining straight down on a tarnished old silver box. The box was about the size of a half dozen stacked paperbacks. It was perched on a red velvet cloth that covered a square table. A black satin scarf sat neatly folded beside the box. There was no other furniture in the room. No light fixtures. No windows. No closet. Cruz approached the waist-high table. In the air above the box, silver words in cursive script appeared like winter fog:

  Here’s a blindfold you must wear.

  Then reach inside me, if you dare.

  Close the lid, speak what I store.

  If you’re correct, we’ll play once more.

  Many have tried my mixed-up riddle.

  Unscramble your thoughts to decode my middle.

  Cruz put the scarf over his eyes, tying it tight at the back of his head. He didn’t want to be accused of cheating. He placed both hands on the sides of the lid and tipped it back. Carefully, he dipped his fingertips into the box until he felt something soft. Cold. Squishy. He slid his hand along the slimy surface, just to be sure, then closed the top. “Spaghetti noodles,” he said clearly.

  He waited. Would anyone tell him if he was right or wrong?

  Nothing was happening.

  Hmm. The instructions had said if he was right he would get to continue, so either the box would open again for him or it wouldn’t, right? It was worth a try. Cruz reached for the lid. It opened. He put his hand inside. This one he knew right away. He let the hard triangles sift through his fingers.

  “Candy corn.”

  As he continued, the items got harder and harder to figure out. Popcorn. Sliced olives. Flower petals.

  Number six was tricky. Cold and mushy, it fell apart in his hands. Snow? Was he allowed to smell it? The rules hadn’t said he couldn’t. Cruz brought it up to his nose. Ah!

  Cruz closed the box. “Watermelon,” he proclaimed.

  He was lifting the lid for a seventh time when he felt something clamp on to his shoulder. A claw? No, a hand. Cruz’s pulse quickened.

  “Do not move,” said a digitized voice from over his shoulder.

  “O-okay.”

  “Do not speak until you are told,” demanded the altered voice. Cruz couldn’t tell if it was male or female.

  Cruz let his right hand drop from the box. He slowly slipped it inside the pocket of his shorts, his palm closed around a baseball-size orb. The octopod was a defensive weapon Fanchon had created for him based on his mother’s research into animal venoms. Press one of the blue rings and the ball released a spray that temporarily paralyzed an attacker.

  “Talk!” ordered the digital voice. “You have ten seconds.”

  “Huh?”

  “Cruz?” said a familiar voice.

  “Dad!”

  “I’m here, son.” His dad was on the phone. Cruz could feel it being held up to his ear. “Are you okay?” shouted Cruz. He didn’t know why he was yelling.

  “I’m fine. Other than hurting my wrist. I turned my hand like I did on your birthday last year. What about you?” asked his dad. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I’m on Orion. Don’t worry. We’ll get you home.”


  “Cruz, whatever you do, don’t—”

  The line went dead.

  “Dad? Dad?”

  “That was too fast. It couldn’t have been ten seconds,” protested Cruz.

  “Your father will be released as soon as we have what we want,” said the digital voice.

  Cruz spun the octopod in his pocket until he felt the beak-like nozzle with his index finger. Spinning it, he found two indentations, one for his index finger and the other for his thumb. Pressing the one under his thumb would release the repellent through the beak.

  Someone was grabbing the collar of his shirt. He felt the smoothness of a gloved hand probing the back of his neck. “Where is it?” demanded the voice.

  “What?” said Cruz, sliding the octopod upward.

  “The cipher. Where is the cipher?”

  Stunned, Cruz froze.

  “I won’t ask again,” snapped the voice. “Where is the formula?”

  “You…you didn’t think I’d bring it with me, did you?” he sputtered.

  There was a pause, confirming that’s exactly what he/she/it thought. Everything was becoming clear. Somehow, Nebula had discovered Cruz’s secret—that he wore the two pieces of the cipher around his neck. They had expected him to come here tonight with it. They’d planned to destroy it and then kill both him and his father. That had been their mission all along: to get rid of his mother and anyone connected with her. They must have congratulated themselves on such a simple plan. However, Cruz wasn’t about to make anything easy for Nebula.

  Another hand was on his neck, this one sliding around to his throat. As the glove tightened, Cruz’s pulse began to race. He thrust his left elbow straight back as hard as he could, hoping to hit a rib or stomach or anything that would get the attacker’s grip to loosen. It worked. He heard a yelp. Fingers slid from his throat. Pulling the blindfold down over his mouth with his left hand, Cruz spun and raised his right arm. There was no time to aim. He squeezed his thumb and index finger, sending a peacock blue mist over a black mask covered in red jewels. A caped figure doubled over and began to cough. Cruz kept the black blindfold clamped to his mouth so he didn’t accidentally inhale the spray. He sped for the door, flung it open, and ran smack into Sailor. “Nebula…” he gasped, his hand still over his mouth.