Immune (The Rho Agenda #2)(31)

The silence from the far end of the line lingered, but Freddy waited. He knew this power trip. First one to speak loses.

Charlotte’s voice broke the tension. “Okay, Freddy. But I stuck my neck out giving you this job ahead of some damn fine reporters. If you don’t come up with something good, don’t bother coming back.”

The line went dead before he could respond. The bitch.

Stepping across the refuse trail, Freddy paused just long enough to give the garbage can one more good kick, then walked into the bedroom to pack his suitcase.





28


Heather awoke with a start. In the darkness that surrounded her, the room seemed vaguely unfamiliar. For several seconds she struggled to recognize where she was, her fading dreams tugging at the corners of her consciousness. This was her bedroom. The dim outline of her dresser and her small desk were separated by a yawning darkness that had to be her closet.

There it was again—the distant buzzing in her head, vaguely familiar, although she couldn’t quite place it. The harder she thought about it, the more it retreated from her observation until it disappeared. Now there was only stillness.

That in itself was odd. Normally there was some sound in the old house, even if she awakened in the middle of the night. Perhaps she was still asleep. Dreams of awakening had plagued her in the past, so perhaps this was one of them. Equations cascaded through her mind, resolving to a probability so close to zero that it was negligible. Something about the way the numbers made sense to her savant brain reassured her amidst the surrounding strangeness.

As Heather thought about walking down the hallway and checking on her mom and dad, the buzzing returned, growing stronger as she focused her thoughts. Despite her growing unease, Heather followed this train of thought, letting herself visualize her parents’ bedroom, imagining them both sleeping soundly in their king-sized bed.

The buzzing became a vibration reminiscent of when she had first tried on the alien headset in the starship, filled with a confusing blitz of sounds, imagery, and feelings, so rapid and distorted that a wave of dizziness assailed her. Then it was gone, like a cell phone dropping its signal.

Heather waited, a slow dread that the buzzing would start up once again making her pull her covers up under her chin. Gradually, as the minutes passed with no reoccurrence, the dread and the accompanying feeling of strangeness dissipated, leaving her feeling relieved and more than a little ridiculous. Talk about overreacting. She had even considered turning on her bedroom lights to check the closet.

Rolling onto her side, Heather curled back into her blankets, but sleep was a long while coming.





29


By the time Heather finished breakfast, finished picking up her room to her mom’s satisfaction, and made her way to the Smythes’, the morning was halfway gone. It really was absurd that she found herself annoyed by the delay. Her mother did so much for her on a daily basis; it was only right that Heather pitch in and help a little. But today, she just couldn’t help feeling put out.

Mark opened the door with a look of surprise on his square face. “Well, I thought you blew us off.”

Heather shrugged. “House cleaning.”

“You?” Mark’s laugh only added to her annoyance.

“Where’s Jen?”

“Garage. She got tired of waiting. Said she wanted to make some final system checks before we take it apart and crate it.”

Heather nodded as she headed for the kitchen and the door, which opened from there into the Smythe garage. This was the weekend when they had to have everything crated for shipment to Denver, the site of the final competition for the national high school science contest. Their cold fusion entry had breezed through the regional competition. Now it was on to the big show.

Heather had read all the write-ups about the other finalists and their projects. From what she had seen, none of them could hold a candle to what Mark, Jennifer, and she had done. Not only did their project work spectacularly, their report was first-rate. As far as Heather was concerned, victory was in the bag. Just so long as they didn’t screw it up.

As expected, Jennifer sat at the terminal, her fingers flying across the keyboard, her face lit by the twinkle of multicolored LED light, completely oblivious to Heather’s entry into the garage. It was amazing. Jen no longer glanced at the laptop display, instead focusing her gaze upon her custom-made LED board attached to the lead side of the cold fusion tank, the colors showing the internal contents of the registers. She was thinking in hexadecimal.

“Earth to Doc.” Mark’s loud voice brought Jennifer’s face around, a look of annoyance tightening the corners of her mouth. Despite her best efforts, Heather laughed out loud.

“What?”

Heather shrugged. “Jen, I’m sorry Mark interrupted you so crudely.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I’m sorry I laughed,” Heather continued. “It’s just that Mark provokes you into some pretty funny expressions.”

Mark leaned in, a sly grin on his face. “And I’m just as sorry as Heather is.”

Heather’s elbow caught him in the stomach before he had a chance to tighten it, producing an audible exhalation of air, a sound that finally brought a smile to Jennifer’s lips.

“Since you’re finally here, come over and take a look at these readouts.”