They marched on in silence. The darkness of the corridor seemed to seep into Bonnie’s mind. How difficult would it be to climb back to the surface when they returned . . . if they returned? A feeling of dread crawled across her body, like roaches skittering across a dirty kitchen floor. Something was wrong, desperately wrong.
Professor Hamilton cleared his throat and squinted at the page, speaking slowly as he read.
The veil once pierced is split for good
By truth’s sharp sword it’s torn
Take care that all can bear it well
That all may be reborn
Without the sword the war is lost
Excalibur’s edge must fight
Yet not with foes of shield and sword
But those who veil the light
Bring here the sword of Camelot
To read of wisdom’s page
Without its words, instruction blurs
He stopped and pulled the book close to his face. Billy dared not breathe.
“What’s up, Prof?” Walter blurted out. “What’s the next line?”
The professor reached for the corner of the page. “Perhaps the next page will tell—”
“No!” Billy shouted, jumping toward his teacher. “Don’t turn the page! Remember the warning!”
The professor stopped and put his hand on his chest. “Yes, William.” He took a deep breath. “Of course. This page must be completed first.”
Billy looked over the professor’s shoulder, the shadow of his head bobbing on the page as he studied the mysterious script. “It sounds like we have to get Excalibur if we’re going to read the rest of it.”
Billy’s mother clenched her hand into a fist. “Then let’s get moving! There’s no telling what Bonnie might be going through while we just stand around here.” She grabbed Billy’s upper arm. “Let’s yank that sword and head west! I know a pharmacy professor who’s in for a big surprise when we show up there. We’ll give him some medicine he’ll never forget!”
Billy pumped his fist and grinned. “Mom, I love it when you’re ready to bash a few heads together!”
“Yeah, Mrs. B!” Walter agreed. “Let’s go kick some gluteus maximus!”
Ashley turned a knob and pushed open a door. Bonnie followed, stepping out of the cool corridor and into a balmy cavern. She felt the gentle caress of warm air seeping in from unseen vents. The room was dark except for a bright crack of light streaming from under a door to her left and her father’s flashlight beam meandering up the wall.
“Hit the lights, Ashley.”
Ashley’s hand appeared in the beam, reaching for a series of switches on the wall. Then, in concert with four clicks, rows of ceiling lights flashed to life, incandescent flood lamps and banks of fluorescent panels illuminating an enormous underground chamber.
Bonnie’s eyes took a few seconds to adjust. A circular laboratory about a hundred feet in diameter had been erected in the center of the cavern and elevated on a low platform. A thousand tangled cables snaked underneath like thick, black spaghetti.
The lab was a technological maze, a dizzying collection of instrument panels and glass enclosures. Everything was oriented around a point at the center where a flat marble pedestal stood, sort of a stunted ionic column about four feet high and maybe a foot in diameter.
Three instrument panels formed an arc around an inner circle, each one spaced evenly apart and about twenty feet from the center. The panels were a techno-geek’s dream come true—at least a dozen rows of dials, sliding bars, diodes, and who-knows-whatsits covering the black acrylic front.
Three tall glass cylinders, like life-sized china doll display cases, stood between the panels and the center pedestal. The panel nearest the door, covered with twice as many buttons and meters as the other two, faced the cylinder on the opposite side.
A drop ceiling, a matrix of suspended tiles and fluorescent lights set in plastic frames, floated over the raised lab area—a hovering bank of spotlights in the midst of a canopy of darkness.
Ashley gazed at the magnificent laboratory and then at Bonnie, her eyebrows raised. Bonnie wanted to make Ashley happy, so she tried to think of something nice to say, but she hadn’t come here to be impressed by a technological assemblage of gadgets from the Bat Cave. She couldn’t begin to appreciate what it was all for. For all she knew it could be a garage sale in comic book land. She wanted to find her mother, and all this gawking at gadgetry wasn’t getting her anywhere.
Bonnie took a step forward and nodded. “This is . . . amazing. Um . . . What is it?”
Ashley pulled off her coat and hung it on a wall hook. “It’s our lab. It’s the most advanced mechanical photosynthetic lab in the world.”
“Photosynthetic? You mean like what plants do to make food?”
“Very close. Plants change light energy into food. We’re trying to create physical matter from light energy in a very different way.”
Bonnie glanced to the side to check on her father. He was at a table by the wall unloading and examining the cases they had brought. She took another step toward the platform. “How does photosynthesis have anything to do with pharmacy? I didn’t know my father was into stuff like this.”
“He’s not, or at least he wasn’t. That’s why he needs me.” Ashley scooted toward the array of instruments and gestured for Bonnie to follow. “This research combines physics with chemistry, and it will take a while to explain, but it’s the most exciting project I could ever imagine. We’ve come a long, long way in a very short time.”
Ashley seated herself at the master control panel. “This panel,” she said, flipping on a switch, “controls that photo tube right in front of me.” A low hum sounded from the seven-foot-high cylinder on the opposite side of the circle, and a bright light flashed on from its smoothly curved cap, making it look like a futuristic transporter tube. The bass drone reverberated throughout the cavern, and gentle vibrations radiated from the floor and into Bonnie’s legs.
Ashley pointed to a slider bar on the panel. “If I were to move this up, the beam inside the dome would activate, becoming more and more agitated the higher I slid it.”
Bonnie’s pulse quickened as the quivering floor sent a buzzing sensation into her teeth, and tiny beads of sweat popped up on her forehead. She took off her outer coat and laid it neatly on a chair. “What does the beam do?”
Ashley flicked off the cylinder’s light, and the tremors faded along with the drone. She walked back to Bonnie and spoke softly, almost in a whisper. “It mimics Excalibur’s beam, the light energy you used to transluminate Devin.”
Bonnie bit her bottom lip until it hurt. Excalibur’s beam? Transluminate Devin? How could Ashley know about Excalibur and Devin? And what did she mean by transluminate?
Ashley clutched one of Bonnie’s forearms and drew her close. “I know about you,” she whispered. Then with a quick look at Bonnie’s back, she added, “And your wings.”
Bonnie let out a low gasp and stepped back, but Ashley held on. “Shhhh! Don’t worry. Your father knows that I know about you, but I’ve learned a lot more than he thinks I know.”
Ashley put a hand on Bonnie’s pack. “Shall I help you take this off so you can get more comfortable? I really want to see your wings, and, besides, everyone here knows about them.”
Bonnie shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and her ears turned warm. Ever since she was little, her wings had been a secret, even an embarrassment, worse than an ugly zit or a bad haircut. But Ashley seemed gentle and sincere, so when she reached over and loosened the straps on the backpack, Bonnie didn’t pull away.
“You said, ‘everyone,’” Bonnie noted as Ashley slid a strap down her shoulder. “Is there anyone else here besides you and your grandfather and my father?”
Ashley’s hands stopped moving, but her voice didn’t flinch. “Actually . . . yes. But I’d better let Dr. Conner tell you about them.”
“Them? More than one?”
Ashley pulled the bac
kpack away, letting it fall to the floor, and Bonnie unfurled her wings, stretching them straight back and then out.
Ashley’s eyes widened until they looked ready to pop out. “Wow! I knew they had to be big to carry your body weight, but . . . Wow!”
Bonnie’s whole face grew hot. Ashley’s gawking made her feel more freakish than ever. She bowed her head, hoping her face wouldn’t give away her thoughts.
Ashley cleared her throat, and her jaw and chin relaxed. She leaned over and whispered, “I think I know how you feel. It’s not as obvious in me, but I’m different, too.”
She spread her arms out toward the center of the lab. “Look around, Bonnie. I designed all this, and I helped build it. My brain is a freak; it works so fast, it’s like a supercomputer on nuclear steroids. The kids at school think I can even read their minds. I can analyze and deduce so well, I’m usually saying what they’re thinking as soon as they realize they’re thinking it themselves. That’s no way to make friends. Do you think any of the girls want to be around me, believing I can read their minds? No way! And the guys? Forget it! When I come around, I’ve seen them put their hands over their ears.”
She mimicked her description, raising her own hands to cover her ears. “What are they thinking? That their thoughts leak out? Of course it’s ridiculous, but it doesn’t change anything.” Ashley caressed the outer rib of Bonnie’s left wing, and her voice dropped again, catching in her throat. “I . . . I’ve heard them call me . . . mutant . . . and alien. . . . I know how it feels. And sometimes . . . it makes me wonder. Maybe they’re right. . . . Maybe I am a mutant.”
Dr. Conner joined the girls, one hand in his pocket, the other carrying a spiral notebook. “I see you two are becoming acquainted.”
Bonnie read the familiar expression on his face, a smiling glow that had fooled her for years. With her wings exposed, everything seemed out in the open—vivid, clarified, transparent. Now she saw in his smile the pearly whites of a polished hypocrite, a charlatan scientist. His act was wearing thin. It was time for him to deliver. She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot on the floor. “Can I see my mother now?”
“Very soon,” he replied. “I promise.”
“Is she here?”
“Yes. I’ll explain in a moment.” He handed the notebook to Ashley. “The samples are excellent. I think the photoreceptors are working. I see no reason why we can’t begin in the morning, but let’s set up a communication session for tonight.”
Ashley’s smile stretched across her face. “Great! I’m going to check on Daddy first. I’ll be back.” She grasped Bonnie’s wrist and gave it a squeeze before jogging toward a far corner of the lab.
Bonnie’s father picked up the backpack from the chair, lifting and lowering it a couple of times. “Is something in here?”
“Just my journal. I can’t fit much else when my wings are in there.”
He laid the pack on the chair with her coat and buried both hands in his pockets. “I’ve heard about your dangerous adventures, and you’ve been very brave. I’m asking you to be brave once again, because only you can rescue your mother. That’s why I brought you here.”
It was a practiced speech, like many she had heard through the years. Her father’s eyes gave away a hint of insecurity, like he was covering hidden fears, conveying urgency and dread. But his speech, and so many other things, weren’t adding up. What did he really know about her adventures?
Scenes from her battle with Devin flashed through her mind, the slayer’s gleaming sword heavy in her trembling hands and his hateful eyes glowing with vengeance. The memories pumped adrenalin through her body, and her heart beat like the wings of a hummingbird. She fought against the overwhelming thoughts and her father’s powerful sway over her, but she couldn’t keep her lips from trembling. She gulped, barely able to speak. “What do I have to do?”
The professor pointed as he hurried through a path of thick leaves and scattered stones. “It’s just over this rise.”
Walter and Billy jogged after him, and Billy’s mother tracked close behind. When they came to a clearing, the professor stopped and pointed again as he tried to catch his breath. “There . . . there it is.”
Billy and Walter halted next to the professor, and they gazed at the awesome sight. The sword stood upright, as straight as a boot camp cadet waiting for a drill sergeant to bark out a command.
Billy’s mother caught up. “What are we waiting for? Let’s do it!”
She ran ahead to the foot of the stone, and the others hustled to join her. “C’mon, son,” she said, making a cup with her interlocking fingers. “I’ll give you a boost.”
Billy shook his head, stripped off his gloves, and handed them to his mother. “Thanks, Mom, but I can make it.” He leaped to the first ledge and grappled the top of the stone. Two seconds later he stood next to the sword, ready to grasp its hilt, but he paused and leaned down. “The prophecy says I have to hold the diary.”
The professor stretched his lanky body and handed up the diary. Billy stood again, holding the book in his left hand. With his right, he grasped Excalibur’s hilt, pausing a second and taking a deep breath.
Billy tensed his muscles, and as he tightened his grip, heat radiated from the sword. Steam rose from the crack in the rock, and the sword moved easily, like a spoon in thick pudding. Billy pulled it out effortlessly, his eyes wide and his mouth open. He stared at the blade, the newly exposed portion glowing hot. His right arm trembled under the sword’s weight, but he managed to raise the blade high above his head.
Walter pumped his fists. “Yes!”
Billy’s mother gave Walter a high-five, and the professor copied their actions, clumsily giving high-fives to each of them.
Walter clambered up the stone and gave Billy a manly embrace. He slapped him on the back and relieved him of the book. With two catlike leaps, Walter was back on the ground handing the diary to the professor.
“Bring Excalibur down, William,” the professor said as he opened the book. “We must make haste.”
Walter rubbed his eyes and peered at the ragged parchment. “I can’t see any new lines, Prof.”
Billy joined them, gripping Excalibur with both hands. The professor eyed the book closely. “William, hold it nearer. I can see something.”
As though summoned by the sword itself, new words slowly appeared on the page, matching the calligraphic script of the lines above. The tantalizing letters grew clear and bold.
The professor gestured for the others to stand back, and he cleared his throat. “I shall begin reading with the first line of the previously unfinished quatrain.”
Bring here the sword of Camelot
To read of wisdom’s page
Without its words, instruction blurs
For all who hear the sage
The candlestone conceals a trap
Where Satan’s minions dwell
In darkness she will seek her joy
And find the gates of hell
A sword, a knight, a fiery son,
Transluminated heir
Shall enter into darkest realm
To battle in its lair
Beware, O knight, of easy prey
Who stand with back yet turned
For cowards strike a blinded foe
And die for what they’ve burned
The professor paused. He brought the book closer as though he were trying to read microscopic print. “That’s all I can see. The metric beat and rhyme scheme are complete, and the script nearly fills the page. Perhaps that’s all there is.”
Billy held the sword close to the book again. “Then we should be allowed to check the next page. Let’s see if something shows up.”
The professor lifted the top corner. “Very well.” Everyone drew nearer to look as he turned the page.
“It’s blank,” Walter said. “Blank as my brain during a math test and empty as my stomach is now.”
The professor closed the book and tucked it under his arm
. “Obviously the book has nothing more to reveal at this time. Let’s hurry back to the plane and decipher this new conundrum.” He placed a hand on his stomach. “Perhaps we’ll be able to think more clearly once we have taken a meal.”
Billy’s mother smacked her son’s gloves into his palms. “Then let’s get airborne! There isn’t anything left to do here. Jared—I mean, Clefspeare said he’d deliver Billy’s drawing to Arlo’s porch, and we have the sword.”
Billy pulled his gloves over his hands and heaved the weighty sword up on his shoulder, holding the hilt with both hands in front. As he trudged through the forest, the final stanza of the poem smoldered in his mind. “Prof, the last part of that poem, the part about cowards striking a blinded foe. What do you make of it?”
The professor kept his stride, his white hair bouncing under his beret. “I thought you might find its lesson familiar, William. I’ve said something similar many times. A knight opposes his enemy face-to-face. A stab in the back is the way of the coward. If you must fight, attack your enemy head-on. That is the way of valor.”
“I remember. But what if he wants to kill you? Shouldn’t you take him out before he takes you out?”
“Yeah,” Walter agreed. “What’s wrong with a surprise attack on the bad guys? They deserve it, don’t they?”
The professor halted and faced his students. “If God commands a surprise attack, then so be it; he has done that before. But a brave warrior assumes that his Lord will protect him as he charges with confidence into battle. He will even call out to his enemy to stand face-to-face.” The professor’s furrows deepened, and his skin seemed to turn gray. “Considering the words of this prophecy, we can assume that God has ordained that we carry out no surprise attacks. Do you understand?”