Mystics #2: The Alpha Nation Read online

  The interior was made of the same strange green smoke. The old forest-green leather seats looked as though moths had eaten away at the leather. The chauffeur sat behind a U-shaped steering wheel in a revolving chair, surrounded by flashing knobs and buttons. Green stickers on the seats and windows read, Area 51: Aliens on board—proceed with caution; I want to believe! and The Truth is out there.

  Zoey turned around. Her heart caught in her throat.

  The six Sand people glared at her from the entrance of the alleyway. One of them slammed his staff on the ground. A giant tidal wave of sand came thundering towards them.

  “Zoey! Get in!” screamed Tristan.

  Zoey dived into the back seat and pulled the door shut, just as a wave of sand crashed into the space-cab. It picked up the car like a giant hand and threw it into a building. The cab crashed into the wall, tipped over and landed on its roof. Zoey, Tristan, and Simon rolled over each other in a tangle of elbows and knees.

  Another violent burst of sand hit the upside down space-cab. Zoey smacked her head hard against the window, and warm blood trickled down the side of her face. She could see sand slipping in through a small opening in the side window.

  “They’re trying to get in!” she screamed, backing away from the abominable sand.

  The sand wrapped around them and blocked out the light. The cab shook. Metal screeched. Pistons wailed. For a moment Zoey thought they were going to die.

  “Kirk! Get us out of here!” shrieked Simon.

  “Gotcha!” The Aleean floored the accelerator, and Zoey’s head slammed against the backrest. “Buckle up!”

  A seatbelt light came on. Zoey searched for her seatbelt and clasped it clumsily. The pressure in the cab changed, and her ears popped.

  She peered through the rear window and watched the alley get smaller and smaller. The Sand people became little ants and then disappeared entirely.

  Chapter 7

  The Accused

  Once the turbulence had subsided, and she was content that they weren’t going to crash, Zoey actually started to enjoy herself. She leaned back comfortably in her seat and stared out of the window at the white puffy clouds below them. It felt like a private jet ride. It was awesome.

  The chauffer tapped a dial, and The Empire Strikes Back theme blared through the speakers and made the seats vibrate.

  “Sometimes we accidentally take the wrong passengers,” Kirk said to Simon, “That’s why there are always rumors of alien abductions, you know. It’s always an honest mistake—truly. You humans all look the same to us. Mistakes are inevitable. We try to wipe their memories with the help of the Erasers of course, but it doesn’t always work. Some Mutes remember.”

  Zoey remembered that Agent Barnes had mentioned the Erasers when the Duyen demon had tried to kill her, but she hadn’t asked about them.

  Tristan could see Kirk’s bulbous yellow eyes fixed on him in the rearview mirror. At last, Kirk said, “You’re Mysterian, aren’t you? Yeah. You are. I can see it - you’re one of us.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply but gave Tristan the Vulcan salute hand sign and said, “Peace, my brother.”

  Zoey could see the tiniest smile curled on Tristan’s lips. They had only talked once about his being a Mysterian. She wondered what it must have been like to grow up with a human mother and a mystic father. It must have been awesome to have parents. But Zoey didn’t feel sorry for herself anymore. Once the Agency had found her, they had become her family.

  Tristan moved his hand gently towards hers, and she moved hers away, almost unconsciously. She immediately regretted it when she saw a trace of anger on Tristan’s face.

  Zoey stared out of the window feeling miserable. Why did boys have to be so sensitive? It’s not like they were dating or anything like that. Why was he so sentimental? She wasn’t even sure if she felt for him in that way. In fact, she had never felt for anyone in that way. Maybe she was so screwed up inside that she couldn’t have feelings for anyone.

  After about an hour’s ride in the mystic cab, Kirk suddenly announced that they had arrived at their destination. The cab banked to the left and then dropped. Zoey’s heart was in her throat as the craft descended. Her ears popped again, and she swallowed. The clouds cleared, and the Hive’s building appeared below. It was covered in snow and surrounded by woodlands. As they neared, she saw agents come out from the front door, and her heart sank. This wasn’t exactly the discreet entrance she had hoped for.

  Simon looked at it differently and was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Now this is what I call arriving in style. Can’t wait to see the jealous faces on Billy and James when they hear about this. We’ll be famous!”

  Zoey squeezed her hands together. More and more agents came out of the Hive and looked up in their direction.

  “You okay, Zoey?” Tristan was looking at her gently. “You look pale.”

  “Well, we didn’t exactly ask permission to go to New York. Agent Ward looks like she’s going to bite off my head. It’ll be a miracle if we don’t get expelled.”

  The mystic cab hovered for a moment, sending snow into the air like great white waves. Then it settled on the snow with a gentle thump.

  “Here we are, safe and sound,” said Kirk. He pressed a dial and the passenger doors opened.

  “Oh, hang on, I almost forgot!” He fumbled with a bag and then handed them three black T-shirts with a large green alien head on them—identical to the one he was wearing.

  “Souvenirs,” he said proudly, “Now you can tell all your friends about how great it was to ride in my cab.”

  He pulled out some small cards and handed them to Simon. “These are extra cards, and my email’s at the bottom here. Later, little agents. Peace!”

  The three of them thanked him and scrambled out of the space-cab. The doors swung shut, and the craft shot into the clouds and disappeared, leaving a trail of green smoke behind it.

  “Well, well, well—the three musketeers have graced us with their presence.”

  Zoey turned around.

  Agent Ward marched up to them like a pit-bull ready for a fight. Her black-rimmed glasses amplified her sergeant major scowl. Zoey swallowed hard.

  “I’m so angry with you,” she hissed, making fists with her hands, “I don’t even know where to begin! How dare you take the A-LEE-AN Taxi Express, it’s only for agents - and for emergencies! Operatives are not allowed to use them.”

  “But it was for an emergency!” said Simon in a low voice.

  “BE QUIET!”

  Simon blinked, then blushed and stared at the ground, his moment of fame crushed. Zoey felt sorry for him; he really had saved them.

  Tristan stepped forward and cleared his throat.

  “Simon’s right. Sand people were after us, Agent Ward. If it weren’t for Simon’s quick thinking about the mystic cab — we’d be dead.”

  He looked over at Simon who just gave a small nod of his head — they were instant friends again.

  “And why were there Sand people after you in the first place? Where were you, I wonder?” said Agent Ward with a murderous sparkle in her eye. “I received a very interesting call from the Hive in New York an hour ago. It appears that three young Operatives had been snooping around in the archives. There are rules of courtesy for that sort of thing. We do not drop in another Hive unannounced and without permission. Especially young Operatives with no supervision.”

  Agent Ward pursed her lips and then turned to Zoey, “Why do I get the feeling this has everything to do with you?”

  Zoey’s face burned. “Maybe because it does.”

  Agent Ward pointed a bony finger at Zoey. “Don’t you dare be impertinent with me, girl! I am your superior! You will therefore accord me the proper respect! Do you understand?”

  Clenching her trembling hands together, blood rose to Zoey’s face and ears. There was nothing more in the world she hated more than to be told off, even more so in front of her friends. The truth was, she had never cared f
or rules or regulations. A few months ago she would have gladly told off the old woman. But now she bit her tongue and counted to ten in her head.

  She took a deep breath and met Agent Ward’s scowl. She knew, deep down, that Agent Ward cared, and that she was probably so terrified about what was happening that her feelings were coming out a little too prickly.

  It was torture just standing there and saying nothing, but Zoey remained silent.

  “Excuse me, Agent Ward?” Agent Barnes made his way towards them, and Zoey felt a sudden release.

  “We’re about to begin,” he said, “and these three have already been exposed to it, so Director Hicks wants them at the meeting too.”

  Agent Ward looked murderous. “He does, does he?” Her body twitched like she was about to explode.

  “Yup,” Agent Barnes grinned. “You forgot your coat so you’d better go on inside before you catch a cold. I’ll take these three with me.”

  At first she’d thought that Agent Ward was shaking from anger, but now she realized that the woman was standing in twenty below zero weather in indoor black shoes, nylons, and a skirt suit—she was freezing.

  “Come, then,” chided Agent Ward. “But don’t think you won’t be punished because you will. Right now there are more important matters than three insubordinate children.”

  With a final glare, she stormed back in the direction of the Hive, her arms wrapped around herself, trying to keep warm.

  Although Zoey knew they weren’t out of the woods yet, she started to breathe normally again. Whatever this meeting was, it had saved them from Agent Ward’s wrath. Tristan and Simon did their best to hide the smiles on their faces, but not very successfully.

  Agent Barnes waited till Agent Ward was out of earshot and started laughing. As he shook his head he said, “You three seriously didn’t pick the right day to be misbehaving.”

  “What do you mean?” said Zoey. “What’s happened? Does this have something to do with the black oil?”

  Agent Barnes was silent for a second.

  “It does. Agent Franken will explain everything. Management’s called an urgent meeting.”

  He started forward. “Come on, everyone’s gathered in the main hall, everybody that’s trapped here, that is. We’d better hurry. They’re all waiting for us to begin.”

  Zoey, Tristan and Simon shared a nervous look and followed Agent Barnes.

  “Do they know what caused it?” asked Zoey, as she walked alongside Agent Barnes. “…The black oil?”

  She remembered how the mirrors had been consumed by the blackness, as though their innards were spilling onto the floor like black blood. “It was almost like a virus. I think it ate away at the mirrors.”

  “Well, everyone’s in a panic. They haven’t said much, only that it’s a deliberate attack,” he answered, “but I’m guessing Agent Franken will have a solution. The man’s a quack, but he’s a genius. If anyone can fix the mirrors—it’s him.”

  Zoey hoped he was right but didn’t feel so confident. With a sickening twist in her stomach, she followed the others inside the Hive. They made their way through the front doors. They had barely set foot into the main hall when Zoey caught her breath and stared, shaken, at the horrible scene.

  The once gleaming marble floors were soiled and covered in puddles of black liquid. Every single mirror in the main hall had become a hollow frame that dripped with remnants of the black oil. And she could hear a strange, dull murmur, as though the mirrors themselves were crying.

  She flinched as thirty pairs of eyes turned and stared at them. She spotted Director Hicks right away. His white thinning hair and beard stood out amongst the crowd, but his solemn expression was not the cheerful one she had begun to be accustomed to.

  All the other directors were there, too. Director Johnson’s face showed no emotion as he stood amongst the others. His dark skin stood out against his light blue suit. Directors Martin and Campbell were huddled together in a deep conversation, but they kept glancing at Zoey. She had the distinct impression that they were talking about her. But why? She had nothing to do with the black oil.

  Everyone was gathered in the main hall. Aria stood by the reception area next to Mrs. Jenson. Agents Ward and Vargas leaned on the opposite wall. Everyone looked shocked with fear and disbelief.

  Zoey, Tristan, and Simon followed Agent Barnes as he made his way towards the front. They stopped next to Agent Lee, who gave a nod of his head at their arrival. When they were settled, Director Hicks stepped out to the middle of the great hall. He adjusted his red bowtie, pulled the front of his plaid suit over his large girth, and cleared his throat.

  “Thank you all for coming.” He clasped his hands behind his back, looking stern.

  “Except for a few of the most slippery and dangerous ones, we thought that we had most of the illegals who had escaped under control. Now we are faced with this.”

  He took a deep breath. “Our cherished mirror-ports have been destroyed. Our entire Agency operation is on standby. This catastrophe has not just affected us, but all the Agencies over the world have been infected with the black oil. Every single mirror-port, DSM, and all of our M-Mat transportation devices have been shattered. They are lost forever.”

  He was silent for a moment, as though trying to control his emotions. His face turned a darker shade of red.

  “It happened quickly. And it was a deliberate attack. This is an attack on the Agency as a whole. This black oil not only destroyed our mirrors — it also destroyed the borders that protect us.”

  Gasps and whimpers echoed through the great hall.

  “But can they be fixed?” called a tall man from the crowd.

  Director Hicks raised his arm.

  “Agent Franken, if you please,” he called, waving his hand.

  Agent Franken pushed his way clumsily through. To Zoey’s surprise he was still wearing his HAZMAT suit, but without the helmet. He waddled awkwardly towards the front. The suit restricted him from any fast movements, so he moved like a puppet with half its strings cut. Finally, he stood before the group.

  He had a mass of white stringy hair and thick glasses that magnified his eyes to the size of grapefruits. His bushy white eyebrows topped the rim of his glasses like caterpillars.

  “I don’t know,” said Agent Franken in a squeaky voice. His forehead shone with sweat and his mouth was a thin line. “It’s very unlikely that we can fix this.”

  “Can you please be a little more specific, Agent Franken,” called Director Martin loudly, his raspy voice reverberating in the hall. “We are all very distressed by these recent events and we are not clairvoyants, we can’t read what’s inside that head of yours. What exactly can’t be fixed?”

  The dim light cast dark shadows over Agent Franken’s pale face, making him look sickly and frail. He attempted to lift his arms, failed, and moved his hands expressively instead.

  “Everything. The mirrors, the borders…everything…”

  Agent Franken seemed lost for words for a moment. He looked like a man who had just lost his job but didn’t understand why.

  “The mirror-port matter transfers are infected by what appears to be a virus. The black oil is some kind of infection I’ve never seen before. It would take years of study just to understand it. It’s beyond my capabilities. I’m a scientist, not a god! It’ll be the death of me—mark my words.”

  Zoey felt an overwhelming desire to rush over to comfort him. Why were they being so hard on him? She glowered at Director Martin.

  “Then please just tell us what you do know,” pressed Director Martin. “We only want to understand what is happening. That is all.”

  Agent Franken appeared to be at a loss for words.

  Finally, he said, “What’s happening…what’s happening is our entire transportation system is ruined by this virus. And it’s affected our border security as well.”

  “What it means is, we have no security anymore. The safety constraints that made our Hives and neighborhoods
invisible to our enemies have been lifted. They can see us now. All those mystics that crossed over recently, and all the ones that have been slipping through the cracks for years looking for revenge, now have access to us. We’re like a beacon in the night. We stand out like sore thumbs. You don’t want to know what’s coming for us. I do, and let me tell you, it’s not pretty. It’ll be a miracle if we even last the night—”

  “Thank you, Agent Franken,” interrupted Director Hicks, glaring at the old man in the Hazmat suit.

  He turned and addressed the group. “Everyone understands the severity of this situation, now. As Agent Franken has said, all of us are targets, and we must be vigilant and protect ourselves until we can figure out how to cure the mirrors and the borders.”

  He paused and then continued, “Out of country visitors, I want you to stay here at the Wander Inn tonight. Aria advises me that she has enough room for everyone here, and we can accommodate a few others in the Hive on spare cots. It’s best not to travel.”

  “So, there’s nothing you can do, Agent Franken?” asked Director Martin. “Nothing at all? You’re our chief scientist. You can’t just give up. There must be something!”

  Agent Franken closed his eyes, and they remained closed when he spoke. “There might be a way - an antidote - a counter-virus.”

  Director Campbell was the one who spoke next. “Well, that’s great news! Where do we get this antidote?”

  Agent Franken opened his eyes at last. “From whoever did this in the first place. They would have it.”

  The entire hall erupted in shouts, cries of desperation, and even fists in the air. Zoey had never seen so many confused, scared, and angry people all at once. It was terrifying and upsetting.

  “Enough!” bellowed Director Hicks. “We can’t have everyone in a fit. We need to calm ourselves and think straight.”

  He glanced over to Agents Barnes and Lee. “We’ll have to set up round-the-clock patrols over the Hive and the inn as soon as we are done here.”

  Agent Barnes shared a look with Agent Lee.

  “We’re on it. Most of us are trained agents, so at least we’ll have a fighting chance if anything comes at us. We’ll split into two teams — one to patrol the outside borders of the Hive and the other to patrol the inn.”