This Town Is a Nightmare Page 6

  “Oh good, you’re up!” Arthur whispered. “Come check this out.”

  Beacon stretched up and joined Arthur at the keyboard.

  “This guy’s got, like, five firewalls on his computer,” Arthur said.

  “That’s kind of a violation of his privacy, don’t you think?” Beacon said.

  “You’re missing the point,” Arthur said. “Why would he need such tight security?”

  “Maybe he’s on the run, like us?” Beacon said, remembering what Galen had said about their cover being blown.

  “I think this guy is hiding something,” Arthur said. “He knows a lot more than he’s letting on. And check out his fridge. It’s totally full. Where’s he getting all this money from?”

  Beacon opened the mini refrigerator. It was jam-packed with food—leftovers of the aforementioned pizza, string cheese, yogurt tubes . . . how was Galen affording this?

  “Help yourself,” Arthur said. “I already had some.”

  “Stealing from a dead man,” Everleigh said. “Low.”

  She shoved past Beacon and grabbed a yogurt tube, then a pizza slice. It seemed like Beacon should have been happy about the unexpected meal, but all he could think about was his dad in that prison. Still, he forced himself to grab a slice of pizza. He didn’t know when he’d get another meal.

  Arthur typed frantically while the twins chewed their food, looking at Galen. The way he slept made a chill creep down Beacon’s back. His mouth was hanging wide open like someone with one foot already in the grave.

  “Should we be doing something for him?” Beacon asked around a mouthful of food.

  “Like what?” Everleigh said. “Fluff his pillow?”

  “I got in!” Arthur said. Beacon and Everleigh abandoned all thoughts of Galen and rushed over to Arthur.

  “What is this?” Beacon said.

  On the screen was an aerial view of a doorway. An armed guard stood in front of two massive wooden doors etched with an intricate design.

  “Some type of security feed,” Arthur said.

  “Why is he watching this?” Everleigh said.

  “Who’s inside that room?” Beacon added.

  “I don’t know. Maybe we can see inside.” Arthur typed some more, and the screen changed to a grid. Each of the twelve squares in the grid showed a different view.

  Everleigh leaned forward.

  “Oh my God. I think this is the UFO,” she said.

  “From Driftwood Harbor?” Beacon said, surprised.

  “You know of another one?” Everleigh pointed at one of the squares on the grid, where tables stretched down the center of a large room. “That looks like the caf.”

  Beacon scanned the other squares and suddenly felt faint.

  He pointed at a circular room lined with two-way mirrors. There was a stretcher in the middle of the room, surrounded by scary-looking medical equipment.

  “That was where I woke up the night the sheriff shot me and Arthur.”

  “Are you sure?” Everleigh asked.

  Beacon leaned forward. “Positive. That’s where Dad tried to give me the vitamin injection.”

  A chill shuddered down his spine at the memory.

  “So Galen knows about the UFO,” Arthur said. “And he’s spying on them.”

  “Not them,” Beacon said. “On someone in particular.”

  Arthur looked over at him.

  “He could watch anywhere in the ship, and he was looking at the one door. Why?”

  “I don’t know, but this is great,” Everleigh said. “We can look for Dad.”

  “Can we see more rooms?” Beacon asked.

  Arthur’s fingers trembled in his rush to type. The grid changed again. They scoured the screen, looking for any sign of the twins’ dad.

  “I don’t see anything. Where are the prison cells?” Everleigh said.

  “They’re invisible, remember?” Arthur said. “They wouldn’t appear on the security feed.”

  That didn’t stop them from trying. For the next hour, they searched the grids, until they found the hallway that led to the prison cells. But the security feed showed only an empty room.

  “Maybe there’s a way we can hack the system to show us the cells?” Beacon said.

  “I’m a scientist, not a computer hacker,” Arthur said. “I just know the basics.”

  “I bet he knows how to see the cells.” Everleigh walked over to Galen. She roughly nudged his stomach with her foot. “Hey, Alien Boy! Wake up!” she shouted.

  Galen didn’t budge.

  “WAKE UP!” she yelled an inch from his ear, then shook his shoulders.

  “Everleigh, stop,” Beacon said.

  Everleigh sighed. “What now, then? I’m not waiting around to find out if this guy dies or wakes up. We need to do something. Every minute we spend here, Dad is back there, in danger.”

  “We go back to Plan A,” Beacon said, standing. “Let’s find a library. It’s time to contact Driftwood Harbor.”

  * * *

  ...............................

  The library closest to the aquarium was an ancient marble behemoth, replete with stone arches and a gargoyle, sitting awkwardly within a knot of steel skyscrapers and condos. They pushed open the heavy door and entered a large room with a polished tile floor and massive wooden bookcases fanning out from the reception area. They found a bank of pay phones in a small alcove off the main room. Six or seven people were sitting at tables, working. A man in a cable-knit sweater was reading a battered copy of the New York Times.

  “Who should we try first?” Everleigh said.

  “I still don’t get why we shouldn’t call my grandma,” Arthur said.

  “We went over this,” Everleigh said. “Besides, she won’t know anything about the Sov. She never leaves her house.”

  “We should call Donna,” Beacon said.

  Donna was the innkeeper at the bed-and-breakfast they’d stayed at during their brief time in Driftwood Harbor. Beacon had low-key been afraid of the surly woman before she’d revealed herself to be an ally and offered to help break Arthur out of the Sov’s underwater prison. But once the twins and their dad had sneaked inside the ship, Donna hadn’t come through with her end of the plan. She was supposed to create a distraction to get them out, but nothing ever happened. It was by sheer luck that Nixon had arrived and broken them out of the prison; otherwise, they’d probably still be inside those cells.

  “How do we know we can trust her?” Arthur said. “She ghosted you guys.”

  “I don’t think she ghosted us on purpose,” Beacon said. “It doesn’t make sense. She warned us that the sheriff was coming and made sure we were hidden in the garage until he left. Then she came up with the plan to save you. Why do all that if she was secretly working for the Sov? It would have been easier to just let us be arrested and call it a night.” He shook his head. “Something happened to her.”

  “He’s right,” Everleigh said. “I think something happened. And Donna makes the most sense to call. She knows all about the stuff going on behind the scenes, and she’s on our side.”

  “Fine. Let’s do it,” Arthur said.

  Everleigh found a computer that the previous patron had forgotten to log out of and googled some phone numbers. Then they huddled around one of the pay phones in the bank along the wall.

  Beacon dialed the number for Blackwater Lookout Bed-and-Breakfast. His body clenched tight as the phone rang.

  And rang, and rang, and rang.

  Finally, it went to voice mail. He hung up quickly.

  “No answer.”

  “What now?” Everleigh said.

  “What about Nixon?” Arthur asked.

  Nixon was a Gold Star, but he’d also saved them from the Sov’s UFO prison, putting himself at risk in the process. Like Arthur, he was immune to
the “antidote.” Beacon had seen his file in the school nurse’s office, which documented Nixon getting the mind-controlling injection dozens of times because he’d gone “Off-Program,” a term the Sov used for when the injection went wonky. According to Nixon, he’d never been on the program to begin with. He only ever pretended to be mind-controlled so the Sov wouldn’t try to hurt him. When he’d get caught acting out of line, they’d inject him again, and he’d know to be on his best behavior or risk getting exposed.

  “What if they have him locked up now?” Everleigh said. “The Sov know that he helped us. What if they also figured out the antidote doesn’t work on him?”

  “We have nothing to lose by trying,” Beacon said.

  Arthur searched for Nixon’s phone number, then Beacon dialed.

  They huddled around the phone again as the ringing stretched on and on and on. Beacon was just coming to terms with the fact that they’d struck out again when the ringing stopped abruptly.

  “Hello?”

  Beacon sagged with relief at the sound of Nixon’s voice.

  “Nixon? It’s Beacon.”

  There was a silence on the other end of the phone.

  “From school?” Beacon added belatedly. “I sat next to you in Mrs. Miller’s class, and—”

  “I know who you are,” Nixon said. “I just can’t believe you’re calling me. Where are you?”

  “In hiding,” Beacon said cagily. “We need some information.”

  “I can’t help you,” Nixon said. “Do you know how much trouble I was in after that whole prison stunt? They’ve got me under lock and key. This conversation alone is dangerous. In fact—”

  “Don’t hang up!” Beacon said, then lowered his voice when the old man in the cable-knit sweater looked over. “We just want to know what happened to our dad after we left.”

  Nixon started to say something, but paused. Everleigh snatched the phone from Beacon.

  “Nixon, tell us what you know. Where’s our dad?”

  “I don’t know.” Nixon at least had the decency to sound apologetic when he said it.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” Everleigh said.

  The kids gathered close to the phone to hear his answer.

  “After you guys left, some guards Tasered your dad,” Nixon said. “They hauled him off, and I haven’t seen him since.”

  Beacon became uncomfortably aware of his own heartbeat. He felt so light-headed, he thought he might faint.

  “You’re lying,” Everleigh said thinly.

  “I wish I were,” Nixon said. “I checked everywhere for him. The prison, the Contam rooms—I know every corner of that ship, and he’s not there.”

  “There must be someplace you didn’t think of,” Arthur said. “Those prison cells were invisible. Maybe they’ve got him somewhere else like that? Somewhere you just can’t see?”

  “Maybe,” Nixon said, in a tone that communicated just how unlikely he thought that was. There was a thunk from Nixon’s end of the phone. Nixon gasped suddenly. “My mom’s coming. I have to go.” The call cut out.

  Everleigh slammed the phone back onto the hook.

  “So he’s gone.” She swiped her forearm angrily across her cheek.

  “We don’t know that for sure,” Beacon said, though he didn’t know who he was trying to convince, Everleigh or himself.

  “We just have to face the truth,” Everleigh said. “We’re alone. We’ve been alone ever since Jasper died. We haven’t had a dad since then, and we aren’t getting one back.”

  The words hit Beacon like a sucker punch to the gut. He felt his future open up like a cold, dark chasm. The Sov were winning. They’d gotten their dad, and it was only a matter of time now until they got them, too.

  He leaned against the wall next to the pay phone, just to give himself something to anchor him to reality. He closed his eyes and raked his fingers through his hair.

  “What do we do now?” Arthur said.

  “Who cares?” Everleigh said. Tears streaked down her cheeks that she wasn’t bothering to conceal. That was scarier than anything he’d seen over the last month. She was giving up. On Dad. On them.

  Beacon wanted to tell her not to talk like that, but the truth was, he felt the same way. They’d failed.

  “This isn’t over,” Arthur said. “We still have options.”

  “Like what?” Beacon said glumly.

  “Like Galen. There’s something not right about that kid.”

  “What tipped you off?” Everleigh said. “Was it the tentacles? It was the tentacles, right?”

  “He’s a Sov,” Arthur said, ignoring her attitude. “Yet he helped us, and he’s spying on the UFO. That has to mean something. And I don’t think it’s just that he’s nice guy—squid, whatever. There’s something big going on here, and he knows what it is. What if something he knows can help us find your dad?”

  Everleigh chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment, before she pushed off from the wall, determination returning to her eyes. “We need to get back to that aquarium and take another crack at his computer while he’s still out.”

  * * *

  ...............................

  Beacon opened the refrigerator door. Everleigh gagged and covered her mouth. The moldy bread looked a hundred times worse in the cold light of day.

  “We need to get rid of that thing,” Everleigh said.

  “No way,” Beacon said, stepping through into the secret passage. “It’s a good deterrent. Someone sees moldy bread and they don’t try to look further, or—”

  There was a flash of steel, and before Beacon could utter another word, there was a blade at his neck.

  8

  “Move an inch and you’ll regret it,” Galen said behind him.

  Beacon swallowed hard. He’d seen Galen’s knife before. It was nothing more than a tiny blade set in a multi-tool. Something for emergencies. But it would get the job done.

  He heard his sister and Arthur coming through the passage.

  “Run!” Beacon screamed, making the knife nick his skin. He felt the warm drip of blood down his neck.

  There was a flurry of footsteps. Everleigh burst into the room, her face contorting into a mask of rage.

  “Let my brother go, and I might consider not murdering you.”

  “What’s going on in there?” Arthur said, stepping through the door. “Who screamed? Oh . . .”

  His words puttered out as he took in the scene.

  “What are you doing here?” Galen demanded.

  “Put the knife down.” Arthur raised his trembling hands like a zookeeper trying to calm a feral animal. “We can talk about this.”

  “I call the shots around here,” Galen said. “And I said what are you doing here?”

  “Ooh, you are so tough,” Everleigh said. “Let’s see how tough you are when it’s just you and me, without that knife.”

  Beacon wished he had half of his sister’s self-confidence. She’d seen Galen transform into a giant squid, and she was still calling him out in a fight.

  “There’s no need for violence,” Arthur said. “We can all talk, right?”

  “I said what are you doing here?” Galen screamed. Spittle hit the back of Beacon’s neck with the force of his words. “I want answers, now!”

  “We brought you here,” Arthur explained. “Last night, after you passed out. Some of us wanted to leave you on the street,” he added, darting a look at Everleigh, “but Beacon insisted we help you, since you helped him.”

  “How did you find my hideout?” Galen asked.

  “From the pizza receipt in your wallet,” Beacon said. When Galen looked confused, he added, “I went in your back pocket, like you said.”

  Galen closed his eyes for a moment. Beacon could have sworn that if he wasn’t holding the knife, he would have p
inched the bridge of his nose. Beacon didn’t get it. He’d done exactly as Galen had asked.

  “How long was I out?” Galen said.

  Arthur looked at his watch. “If you woke up just now? Fourteen hours, twenty-eight minutes, and thirty-seven seconds, give or take a few seconds.”

  “Damn,” Galen said under his breath.

  “Longer than usual?” Arthur asked, his voice pitching higher at the end. “That’s why you passed out, right? Because of the transformation?”

  “I passed out because you checked the wrong pocket.”

  “What?” Arthur said.

  “I keep an EpiPen in my pocket for emergencies.”

  “You have allergies?” Arthur asked, confused.

  “No,” Galen said, rolling his eyes. “The epinephrine gives me enough energy to get somewhere safe before I black out. Buys me twenty minutes, half an hour if I’m lucky. If you would have checked my other back pocket, you would have found the syringe.” He shook his head, as if angry with himself that he’d said so much. “You need to leave. NOW.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without my brother,” Everleigh said.

  In one swift movement, Galen pulled the knife away from Beacon’s throat and shoved him toward his sister.

  “Are you okay?” Everleigh grabbed her brother and quickly examined his neck.

  “Go,” Galen ordered.

  Everleigh glowered at Galen.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here,” Arthur said. Arthur pulled Beacon toward the passage, but panic flared inside Beacon’s body. Galen was their last hope. Without him, they’d truly be out of options. He needed to think of a way to convince Galen to help them. If he could just figure out what the boy wanted . . .

  It came to him in a flash. Of course—Galen’s wallet. That was the key. Beacon yanked his arm free of Arthur’s grip and spun around.

  “We can help you find the girl.”

  “What girl?” Everleigh said.