The Nerdy Dozen (16 page)

“THEY'VE GONE INVISIBLE!” NEIL SHOUTED, THOUGH HE knew that he was sort of stating the obvious. He lifted his hands in defense, thinking of the way he walked through the frozen-foods section with Janey on the loose:
Always alert. Invisible enemy. Try to momentarily blind her by ripping open a bag of frozen peas.

Neil moved forward with sporadic and jerky motions, swinging his arms as if they were garden hoses gushing water. His right arm connected with something, so he swung at it, hoping he might actually do some damage, but he couldn't tell what it was. Neil then felt an invisible hand grab his left arm, and he thrashed around, trying to shake off his camouflaged assailant.

Trevor and Sam ran farther out into the main room, punching and kicking into the empty space. But after only a few seconds of battle, invisible arms and hands tugged at their limbs, too. They were immobilized by forces they couldn't see.

“Harris!” Neil shouted.

“Right here, ManofNeil,” said a voice in front of Neil.

As Neil scratched and clawed at an invisible guard still holding on to him, the status on the screen above crawled toward completion. Neil kicked in the direction of what he assumed was the guard's pudgy gut and connected, feeling the hands grabbing him release in pain.

“Ninety-two percent!” hollered Trevor.

“Harris, now's your last chance to give up!” Neil shouted. But a kick to his back sent him to the floor. He felt an invisible body pounce on top of him.

“Oh yeah? And who will make me? You and your puny friends?” Harris laughed, an invisible madman. He cranked his arm around Neil's neck and squeezed down tightly. As Neil's cheeks grew red from the pressure, he heard the shouts of his friends being restrained, and an uneasiness washed over him.

Searching for anything, Neil's hands scrambled up to Harris's face. He could feel Harris's glasses. Neil grabbed them and threw them to the ground. Now Harris wouldn't be able to see, either.

“Ah! My glasses!” Harris squealed. The two wrestled and rolled over each other, the blind fighting the blind—or, in this case, the invisible.

Neither of them was exactly a skilled fighter. Unsure of where to attack, they both sliced down with their hands and forearms, occasionally making contact and sending the other into a mad flurry of slaps whenever they did. There was a lot of dramatic yelling and some pinching, but neither of them dared to do too much more.

Keep moving
, Neil thought, swiveling his head. But as he bobbed, weaved, and turned to bob again, something connected with his face.

It was the hardest punch Neil had ever taken. Worse than Tommy Scott's. Worse than Janey's. Harris's fist had landed with a spark of pain right on Neil's jaw. Neil dropped to the ground and quickly grabbed his swelling cheek.

For being a code-writing video game nerd, Harris can sure throw a punch
, Neil thought. Neil's breath quickened. He looked over to see Trevor being taken out by invisible hands grabbing at him. Sam was being held tight in an invisible bear hug, her legs kicking in the air.

“The download is nearly complete,” Harris crowed as he turned Neil's head to the looming screen. “I want you to have a front-row seat for what will happen next.”

He felt a tug at his neck as Harris ripped off his dog tags and threw them to the ground. He couldn't believe that after all this, after they'd come so close, he was about to watch as the Chameleon's scales technology fell into some stranger's hands.

But then, in the distance, he heard someone approaching, and it didn't sound like the plodding feet of Harris's goons.

“Verily we ride, my lordship! Onward, my avian brothers and sisters!” Riley's voice amplified down the hallway.

“Who goes there?” Harris shouted in panic, moving away from Neil.

Sitting proudly atop an ostrich and followed by hundreds of other birds, Riley burst through the tunnel and into the warehouse. The hungry ostriches charged ahead and started pecking everywhere for food—including at the blubbery stomachs of invisible guards, who began to squeal and moan in protest.

“Sir Riley,” Neil cried out. “You faced the fall of waters.”

“It was all thanks to my trusty steed, the noble Bartholomew,” Riley replied, gesturing to his ostrich. “And I am but a humble squire, my lord, joined in pursuit with Sir Jason the First.”

Jason 1 bowed from atop an ostrich, then sprang off to try to help his captured friends.

“Here is Sir Weo, whose assistance you requested,” Riley finished, heading after Jason to help him pry open the arms of the guards holding Sam and Trevor.

“You okay there, Neil?” Weo asked, staring down at Neil, who was still on the ground. Weo was sitting on the tallest ostrich of all, in a specially made ostrich saddle.

“Weo!” Neil cried out.

“Guards, attack him!” commanded Harris, but they were all too busy fighting off the persistent birds.

“The switch! That thing right over there—flip it!” Neil yelled to Weo before he felt Harris's boot on his face.

Weo charged his bird ahead, dodging invisible guards as he made his way to the switch. With a quick flip, Harris and his men became visible.

“Harris, stop it,” demanded Weo, his eyes flying to where Harris stood over Neil.

From the ground, Neil watched the status of the transfer inching along. While the money's destination was encrypted on the screen, Neil knew that once it was complete, it would mean that the most advanced camouflaging technology in the world would be in the hands of some anonymous and possibly dangerous stranger.

“And why should I listen to someone who just abandons his friends?” Harris snorted, still pinning Neil to the ground. Around him, ostriches chased his goons, but he ignored them.

“Weo!” Neil interrupted. “We've got to stop this transfer. Harris is selling the invisibility technology from our jet, and it cannot fall into the wrong hands. It's top secret!”

Harris rapped Neil on the back of his head, and Neil gritted his teeth.

“Your
jet
?” Weo asked. “Scientists get jets?”

Neil had nearly forgotten that Weo didn't know the truth. “Well, I know it might not look like it, but I'm with the Air Force. The US Air Force,” Neil explained. Weo looked shocked.

“It's true!” cried Trevor, who broke free of one grasp only to be clotheslined by another. He dropped below a small flock of ostriches.

“Wow, I'm surprised they let you guys in. Do they have physical requirements these days, or are they just taking anybody?” Weo ribbed. “It's okay. I mean, chameleon-hunting scientists? I kind of knew there was something fishy going on.” He hopped off his ostrich and walked over to Harris.

“Is this true? Why would you have to steal something and sell it? What happened to the money from the game?”

“You know they pulled the game,” Harris said. Then he grew quieter. “After you left, the game turned awful. The controls got all weird. The controls that only you knew, and only you could help with.”

Watching Harris talk to Weo, Neil didn't think he seemed like a truly evil villain at all. He seemed almost vulnerable.

“It was what you deserved after you fired my father,” Weo replied.

“My father said we had to cut spending somewhere. I fought him all the way!” Harris said in defense.

“I don't believe you!” Weo shot back. “I'm glad I didn't help finish your stupid controls! I'm doing just fine on my island without you.”

Clearly, Neil thought, there was bad blood between them, the kind that had apparently escalated to net-capturing lengths.

“Hey, guys?” Neil said, his face still smushed on the cold concrete floor. “How about this: Weo, what would it take for you to come back and help with the second Feather Duster?” Neil's eyes watched the download percentage click to
99%
and the lettering turn to a bright and serious red. There was probably a minute or so remaining before the technology was gone for good.

“He knows,” Weo said, glaring at Harris.

“Harris, I think you know what that means. If Weo came back to help with your game, is there a job left for his father?”

Harris didn't respond, only sat motionless. Neil watched as guards grouped together, having now wrangled in all of Neil's fellow recruits.

“Harris, you can stop this and relaunch your game—the right way. Don't you want everyone buying it because they love it? Not because it's the only option they have available?” Neil could feel the tension of Harris's grip growing looser. “Listen,” he pressed on. “I'm not the one who pulled your game, and neither is Weo. And things aren't ruined yet. But they're about to be. Now, let me help you before you get into actual, serious trouble. Let's stop this together.”

Harris eased off but still drove a knee into Neil's back, keeping him immobilized.

“Weo, that laptop,” Neil cried out, giving up on Harris. “Go to that laptop! There's got to be a kill code we can enter!”

Weo hurried over to the silvery notebook open on the control console, the guards seemingly hesitant to attack him. Neil realized they all must have worked with Weo's father.

“You forgot to use those motion-sensor thingies,” Weo said tentatively to Harris, glancing at him from behind the computer. Neil eyed the final percentage of the download, a lump forming in his throat. “We could get some of those. They could help. But only if you'll help me.”

Harris was silent, his body heaving as he still stood over Neil.

“HnWFriends4Ever,” Harris whispered.

“What?” Weo asked.

“Our code! Enter it!” Harris responded. Weo typed it into the computer, and the screen froze. Neil feared it was too late. Weo hit
ENTER
twice more, and a giant
X
appeared, refreshing the page and replacing the status bar.

Seconds later, a scrambled video feed flashed on the giant screen.

“What's going on?” screamed the mystery man expecting the invisibility technology. “You can't cancel on me! You promised me that software! Give it to me,
now
!”

“Sorry,” Harris said, stepping forward into the video chat window. Neil, at last able to move his neck, started to sit up. “I changed my mind,” Harris said, and hung up the call.

Free from Harris's grip, Neil walked toward the dock to stretch out when from above he heard a whirring sound approaching.
The Chameleons operating in humidity!
Neil remembered.

“Back up!” Neil yelled to everybody in anticipation of a jet's arrival, and after a whoosh of air passed over him, he knew it had landed.

Like a bead of quicksilver, the craft slowly glimmered into visibility, and the cockpit lid opened. Jones and Lopez jumped out.

“Andertol! We tried to radio you! When we didn't hear from you, we circled back, only to find this whole place flickering in and out like a giant hologram!” Jones shouted. He turned to Harris, who was standing near the laptop, his hands in the air. “You! Stay back!”

“I surrender! I surrender!” exclaimed Harris, closing his eyes as if bracing himself for the worst.

Jones took a step forward, then suddenly slipped on something black on the floor, landing on his rear end. He sat up slowly, glaring at Harris, who looked like he might faint.

“Sorry,” Harris said, his voice small. “That's the Feather Duster–themed ostrich ooze. Limited edition. It should come right off with the Feather Duster screen wipe pads. You'll find them right up there, in that box in the far corner.” Harris gestured with his chin, still clearly scared to lower his arms and point.

Jones frowned and got back to his feet, his eyes still on Harris. “Okay, kid,” he said. “Who are you, and what did you do to my missing Chameleon?”

“My name is Harris Beed. I design video games. Well, just one video game, and its sequel,” Harris babbled to Jones. “I'll return your stolen invisibility technology. I promise.” He looked right at Weo. “You can trust me.”

 

Neil stood with the rest of the team in the sun-soaked courtyard of the compound, waiting to take off for the aircraft carrier. Harris, handcuffed, stood next to Jones while the major furiously wrote some kind of mission report on an official-looking Air Force pad. Penny was there and milled around, handing out small slices of pineapple pizza. The twelve starving gamers quickly finished them off.

“I thought your place burned down?” Neil asked her, grabbing a thin slice. He was hooked.

“Just that silly video game caught fire, Mr. Plain Cheese,” she said with a smile. “Must have happened when Harris messed around with those scores.”

Finishing his bite, Neil spied Jones leaving Harris, who looked dejected, his hair falling in front of his face as he stared somberly at the ground. Neil walked over to him.

“Harris,” said Neil.

“Yeah? What do you want?” Harris looked up at him in surprise and confusion.