Going Wild (20 page)

“
Pfft
. Boring,” she said.

Mac looked up from entering codes to see what she was doing. “Oh, I know,” he said. “I searched it back when it went into defense mode. Nada.”

Charlie clicked on links that seemed interesting. But none of them said anything about a bracelet. For the most part, the search landed her on gamers' message boards.

“There's no such thing as Chimera Mark Five,” Charlie reported, looking at Maria.

Mac squinted at the bracelet's screen and inputted the next code. “I just said that.”

Maria frowned. “Nothing at all? How is that even possible? You'd think somebody would be talking about it since it's so powerful and everything. Are you sure?”

“Well,” said Charlie, “I mean, the words exist separately,
obviously. And
Mark Five
goes together in a lot of instances—like there's some sort of boat called the Mark V. And it could be a version of a device, like what you said about Iron Man's suits. But never all three words together indicating a
thing
.”

“Boo. Maybe it's top secret.” Maria looked up from the homework she was doing. “Did you find the right code yet, Mac?”

“No,” Mac said. He went back to the bracelet, and then he paused. “You still haven't activated the other two powers, in case you were wondering.”

“I know. I've been checking. I wish we knew what they stood for, at least.”

Mac scrolled slowly through the endless list of codes he'd collected, typing them in one at a time. There were a gagillion options, and those were just the seven-digit alphanumeric codes. But there was no rule that said the code was seven digits. It might be six or five or four. And it was also possible that the code was strictly numbers or letters, he supposed. This task could take an entire lifetime of nonstop typing, and even then there was no guarantee of finding the right one.

After a while he let go of Charlie's wrist and sighed. “If I knew how long the code was, or if it was numbers or letters or a combination of the two, I might be able to narrow it down a little. But I don't know if it's three characters or seven or somewhere in between. And not knowing who sent it, I don't have any clues at all about what combinations they might be more likely to use. I mean,
I've entered the twenty most common pin numbers for all the various lengths, and I can go on from there; but let's be honest—it's really pointless. I'm just getting error after error.”

Charlie leaned over, and Mac showed her the screen on her bracelet that flashed
KEY IN ACCESS CODE TO DEACTIVATE
at the top of it. Mac entered the next code on his list and tapped the space with his finger. An ERROR screen popped up.

Charlie sighed. “This thing is stuck on me forever.”

Maria studied Mac. “How did you find out what the twenty most common pin numbers are?”

Mac tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “That's a business secret.”

“Okay. Well, maybe we don't know who sent it, but we do know who it was addressed to. What if they programmed the code to be something Charlie could figure out?”

Mac stared at her. For a very, very long moment. “You? Are brilliant,” he said. “Charlie, I'm going to need some info. Phone numbers, house numbers, zip codes, birth date . . .” He found a piece of paper and started scribbling all the things he needed.

Maria shrugged. She closed her book and looked at Charlie. “And if that doesn't work, there's got to be a way to get the bracelet off if that's really what you want, Chuck. Jaws of Life or something, right? Can't your mom help? They ought to have some tools at the hospital.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” said Charlie. “I'm not sure if her rinky-dink
hospital is big enough to have tools like that, though.”

“Um, excuse me? Navarro Junction hospital has a helipad. It is not rinky-dink,” said Maria.

“No?” Charlie smirked. “What would you call it?”

Mac looked up from his scribbling. “It's . . . juvenile, like a young gorilla. Still growing—and it doesn't know its own strength.”

“Oh, okay,” Charlie said with a smirk. “But wouldn't cutting it off destroy it? I'm not sure I want that to happen.”

“That's true,” said Maria. “You probably wouldn't be able to use it again, so that would stink.”

“I don't know.” Charlie stood up and wandered the bedroom, an uneasy feeling growing inside her. She didn't want to talk about it anymore. She was really confused about how she felt about the powers the bracelet gave her. Sometimes she wished she'd never put on the bracelet, and other times she couldn't picture her life without these new abilities.

“It's the healing power that would be a real bummer to lose,” she said, remembering how she might be sitting out soccer this season with a broken leg if it hadn't been for the device. And then she shook her head, feeling horribly restless. “Ugh. I can't even deal with this right now. Let's just go kick the ball around outside or something.” She charged out of the room.

Mac looked up from his list of questions, like he was about to stop her, but she was already gone. “Well,” he said.

“Wow,” said Maria. “She's stressed out.”

“We'd better go.” Mac put the paper on Charlie's backpack and they got up to follow.

Charlie forged down the hallway and past the kitchen, where Maria's stepdad, Ken, was pulling a huge cast-iron skillet from a cabinet and putting it on the stove. Her grandmother Yolanda was stooping in front of the refrigerator, taking out several butcher-wrapped packages and an armful of onions. Maria's stepbrothers were nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, Charlie,” Ken said cheerfully as she raced by.

“Hi,” Charlie said, not stopping. She burst through the door as if the house were suffocating her, but the feeling didn't go away once she got outside. The bracelet felt like it had turned into a huge metal body cast that was squeezing her too tightly.

She stopped in the driveway and stood there a moment, taking a few deep breaths, trying to accept the fact that if she really wanted the bracelet off, she'd have to ask for help. But if she did, would she have to tell her mother everything? What would happen?

And then suddenly she realized it wasn't that big of a deal. She didn't have to mention the powers. Her mom didn't need to know the real reason why she wanted it off—wouldn't anybody want the same thing if they had a bracelet stuck on them?

That thought calmed her. She blew out a breath. Just knowing she had the option made everything so much better.

As she heard the screen door open and close behind her, two
little kids on bikes whizzed up the street toward her. They were yelling something, and they sounded scared.

“What's wrong?” Charlie called out to them, her stomach suddenly nervous.

Maria and Mac joined her, and Maria grabbed Charlie's arm. “What's going on?”

“Fire! Fire! There's a fire!” one of the kids said.

“What?” Maria cried. “Where?”

“At the end of the street! The man said to get help!”

C
harlie, Mac, and Maria exchanged looks. A split second later the three of them broke into a run. It didn't take long for them to detect a hint of smoke in the air.

Maria looked over her shoulder. “Mac, call 9-1-1!”

Mac was already dialing as he loped along behind them.

“Charlie, is your bracelet activated?”

Charlie didn't have to touch it to know—warmth spread up her arm. “Yes,” she said. A sickening wave of fear swept over her as the bracelet grew even warmer without her having to do anything. A fire? That was way more than she could handle. She ran blindly. Numbly. She couldn't think straight. She took a few deep breaths. “You can do this,” she said to herself, not even sure what it was she would have to do. Just knowing she had to do something.

She sped up. “I gotta go help,” she said over her shoulder, giving her friends one last earnest look. And then, with a burst of speed, she tore down the street, not caring who saw her.

Once she rounded a curve in the road, the fire was impossible to miss. Smoke poured heavily from a two-story house, and the acrid odor of it was inescapable. A neighbor was frantically
trying to attach a tangled garden hose to the spigot on the side of her house. A small crowd gathered nearby, helpless as flames licked the first-story windows. Some of the bystanders were talking fearfully on their phones, while others held theirs up to record the tragedy.

Crouched on the edge of a flat section of the roof was a screaming woman, who pointed to a nearby window on the second floor.

Someone must be trapped inside
, thought Charlie. Her blood surged as she reached the scene. She had to do something! But how was she supposed to get up to the second story when flames were coming out of all the doors and windows on the main floor? She broke through the crowd and ran toward the house. Instinct took over. She leaped up in the air, grabbing on to a thin copper pipe that ran up the side of the house. Then she quickly shinnied up it to the flat second-story roof. Her mind focused laser-like on the task and shut out the reaction from the crowd below.

At the top, she hoisted herself onto the roof and sprang to her feet. The woman ran to her, hysterical, tugging at Charlie's shirt and saying something in Spanish. Charlie didn't understand.

“Come on, I'll get you down,” she said to the woman, holding out her arms.

The woman shook her head and pointed inside the broken window. She started screaming again.

Charlie tuned in to someone yelling the same thing over and
over from below. “Her son is trapped! She won't come down without him.”

Charlie could feel the fiery heat coming from inside. Sweat poured down her face. She peered into the window but couldn't see anything but soot and flashes of fire in the darkness. It would be stupid to go in there. But someone needed her help. What else was Charlie supposed to do? She couldn't leave them there.

Charlie closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. No one in her right mind would enter a burning building for the sake of a stranger unless she was a firefighter. But here Charlie was. Doing it. She hoped the bracelet wouldn't glitch now and that the healing power would kick in immediately when necessary.

With a grunt, Charlie ripped a strip of cloth from her T-shirt and tied it around her head, over her nose and mouth. She took one last deep breath and dove through the broken window and over the line of flames. She landed on her back, rolled to her hands and knees, and crawled out of the room and into the hallway.

With the thick smoke and soot covering the windows, it was almost as dark as night inside the house except for the flare-ups. Charlie couldn't see anything. Her heart sank—she'd never be able to find the boy this way. She pulled her mask up to her forehead to stop the sweat from stinging her eyes and crept forward.

As she moved along, she heard strange echoing chirps and tilted her head, trying to figure out where they were coming from. Was there a pet bird in the house too? But she soon ignored the
chirps because, in front of her, a shimmering outline of a hallway appeared like a silver shadow in the darkness. Encouraged, she got to her feet and, keeping low, set off in search of the boy.

The odd chirping continued and so did the shimmering silver shadows, outlining everything in her path. The air was thick. One room was fully engulfed—there was no chance of survival if the woman's son was in there. Charlie grabbed the doorknob to pull the door shut and keep the fire from getting to the hallway, and yelped in pain—the knob was white-hot. Her hand throbbed. The smoke was horrible. Charlie knew she didn't have much time before she'd have to get out.

Then she heard a small cry from behind a closed door on the other side of a fiery patch of carpet. Charlie ran deftly toward the sound. A moment later a burning chunk of the ceiling fell across the hallway behind her. She was surrounded by fire.

Panicking and knowing she had to act fast, she pulled her T-shirt mask over her mouth and nose again, then bent over, dug her fingers into the carpet, and ripped the burning section up from the floor. She rolled it down the hallway past the closed door and stomped on it to put out the fire.

Lungs burning, Charlie returned to the door and tested the knob gingerly. It was hot but tolerable. She flung the door open. With less smoke in this room, she pulled her mask off—she could breathe in here. Immediately the chirping began again, and Charlie realized that the sound was coming from her! She watched in awe
as the shimmering silver outlines of a dresser, changing table, and crib formed in the semidarkness. What was happening? Whatever it was, she didn't have time to figure it out now.

Charlie gulped at the air. Her eyes and throat stung, but she couldn't do anything for that now. She crawled toward the crib, and her chirps grew faster, more insistent. The shape of a little body standing in the crib appeared before her. She sprang to her feet, ran to the sobbing boy, and scooped him up. But how was she going to get him out of here safely?

She scanned the room, and the chirping became even more insistent. More shapes appeared before her: stuffed animals, a rocking chair, some sort of small appliance in the corner. Pulling a blanket from the boy's crib, she moved to the corner of the room to see what the item was. She felt around it, then pushed against it and got the rewarding sloshing sound she was hoping for.
Humidifier!
she thought triumphantly. She twisted the top and pulled out the mechanical part, exposing the water trough. She doused the blanket and wrapped the boy in it like she'd learned in her summer classes at the Y. Then she splashed the remaining water over her hair and on the face mask. She secured the mask over her face again. With the child wrapped up, she held him tightly to her chest and looked out into the hallway.

But the hallway was impassable now. It was fully engulfed in flames. With the boy crying, she slammed the door to keep out the fire and began to panic.

She'd have to find a different way out.

Charlie felt her way to the bedroom window, flinging the curtains aside. She ripped down the shade and threw it on the floor, opened the window, and pressed her forehead against the screen to see what was below. There were no flames, but it was a sheer drop to the backyard—no overhangs, no pipe to climb down. Only some smoldering window shutters to hold on to several feet below her. “Good grief,” she muttered. She punched the screen with her fist, sending it flying, and leaned out, watching it hit the ground. Her heart was in her throat.

The house groaned, and she heard some popping noises and a crash outside the child's room. She turned quickly at the sound, the curtains fluttering near her face. And then she sucked in a breath. The curtains! Could she climb down them? She set the boy on the floor, ripped down one panel, and tied it to the bottom of the other. Leaving the other panel attached to the curtain rod, she flung the makeshift rope out the window. Then she picked up the child and hoped the strength ability was still activated so she could hold on.

Just then a window on the first floor below them exploded, and flames began climbing up toward Charlie and the boy. With the dangling curtain in danger of bursting into flames, and no time to ponder other options, Charlie grabbed it and stepped out of the window.

The people outside gasped. Holding the child with one arm, Charlie used the other to rappel down the side of the house until
she ran out of curtain length. She wasn't quite sure what she was going to do next other than hang there and wait for help.

Without warning, the curtain rod broke. Charlie screamed and let go, instinctively slapping her free hand against the house, trying to grasp at anything to keep them from falling. And while the curtain fluttered to the ground, Charlie and the boy did not. They hung suspended, Charlie's hand somehow magically sticking to the side of the house.

What just happened?
she thought. Both hands and feet tingled.

Once she realized they were stable, for the moment at least, Charlie quickly kicked off her shoes and pressed her tingly bare feet against the house. They stuck. Gingerly, she lifted one foot and moved it down to see if it would stick again.

It did. Slowly she slid her hand down, then her feet, then her hand again, and before anyone could comprehend what Charlie was doing, she was safely on the ground, her body shaking. Maria and Mac charged toward her. With sirens sounding in the distance, Charlie handed the child to Maria.

“That was insane!” Maria shouted. “How did you do that?”

Charlie shook her head, trying to catch her breath. “I don't know,” she rasped. “I've got to go after the lady.”

Mac nodded furiously. “I think you must have activated another ability!”

Charlie didn't have time to check the bracelet now. “Be right back,” she croaked. Her hands and feet still tingled, but they didn't
look any different. With reckless trust in the bracelet, Charlie ran toward the house and, without slowing down, flung herself at it, spread-eagle. Her hands and feet stuck. She scrambled quickly up the side to the rooftop where the woman clung as fire devoured the structure all around her.

“It's going to collapse!” somebody shouted just as a fire truck turned onto the street. There wasn't time to wait for help—the fire was uncomfortably hot on Charlie's body already. “Come on!” she said, hoping the woman would understand. She pointed down at Maria, who held up the boy so the woman could see her child was safe, then reached out and grabbed the woman around the waist. The baby's mother clung to Charlie's neck and screamed as Charlie gripped the edge of the roof, dangling over the side of the house. With the woman bigger than her and practically choking her to death, Charlie started back down. They made a strange sight. Firefighters rushed to the chaotic scene below.

“Look out!” someone cried.

Charlie didn't have to look. She felt the house shake, and then it began to crack and crumble. Flames shot out, singeing Charlie's legs. She held the woman tightly and leaped the rest of the way to the ground. The two tumbled in the rocky landscaping, and then Charlie scooped up the woman and ran away from the house until they were at a safe distance.

They both collapsed, breathing hard. Strangers swarmed around them, saying things Charlie couldn't comprehend. All she
wanted was some fresh air.

“
Gracias
,” the woman cried. “Thank you.”

Charlie nodded, unable to speak.

Seconds later Mac and Maria were pushing through to Charlie's side. Maria handed the screaming child to his mother, and they began dragging Charlie out of the crowd to find her a place to sit down.

“Are you okay?” Maria exclaimed.

Charlie nodded. Her throat was sore from the smoke. She whipped off her makeshift mask, wiped her face with it, coughed hard into it a few times, and threw it on the ground.

Mac ran off and came back with bottles of ice-cold water from a neighbor. Charlie grabbed one with her burned hand, cringed, and poured the liquid down her throat and over her head.

“Is the baby okay?” she asked when she could speak. She watched the firefighters work to extinguish the blaze, then examined her blistered hand and legs, and found the redness was already subsiding. The pain was lessening too.

“I think so,” Mac reported. “They're taking him and the woman to the hospital, it looks like. And now people are pointing this way. Here comes a paramedic.”

Charlie glanced at Maria and bit her lip. “Do you think anybody's suspicious about the climbing?”

“It doesn't matter,” Maria said quietly as the woman approached. “You saved people. Just play it down. You're a climber.”

Charlie nodded. She peeked at her hand, wishing the blisters
to disappear, and then held the water bottle in that hand again to help it along.

The uniformed woman smiled. “I hear you're a hero,” she said. “Are you hurt?”