The New Kid. Temple Mathews

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ to be an old-school photographer, shooting on film in addition to digital, so he could construct a “darkroom” and thereby restrict entry and keep his real work away from prying eyes. He would get around to building the false wall later. For now all he really needed to do was unroll some thick black plastic and staple it to the overhead floor joists to seal off the first phase of his workspace construction from his mom and Gerald. The basement was always Will’s domain. His mom backed him up unequivocally on this and Gerald, though he grumbled, went along with the edict. Will was sure it was because as long as Will wasn’t anywhere to be seen or heard, Gerald was happy. Out of sight, out of mind. That’s the way it worked. If only it worked that way with everything, thought Will.

      Two hours later Will heard his mom and then Gerald come home and, rather than risk an awkward intrusion, went upstairs and shared perfunctory greetings with them. While Gerald opened one of his homemade beers and extolled its taste, Will nodded like he gave a crap, had a quick bite of chicken and biscuits, mumbled something about homework, and then went back down into the basement. Two hours after that he had the darkroom set up in the first chamber. Anyone trying to enter had to do so by means of a “light lock,” which meant completing an S turn and then moving through a flap door so that by the time you were in the amber-lit room you were completely turned around, a fact that worked entirely to Will’s advantage. Any parental unit snooping around would surely miss the fact that Will had put up a false back wall, creating a secret chamber that only he knew about.

      Now that his secret chamber was in place, at least with temporary walls, Will went about setting up his futon and unpacking his crates of equipment. He had geological sensor probes and infrared motion detectors and spelunking supplies. He had a well-stocked chemical lab setup and another for weapons design. He had a crate that held his cache of weapons, which he unpacked and inspected. The pulse generator pistol had shifted in transit, but he examined it and it looked fine. And of course he had his computers. Lots and lots of computers; enough computing power, in fact, to service a small university. He was wired in and dialed in to the max. He had to be. His survival was at stake.

      He set up his largest monitor, connected to his most powerful XTC 9000 computer, and fired up his Demon Hunter game. He fed in some data and the hero on the screen came to life, charged down a hallway, and using a microartillery bracelet, unleashed a barrage of firepower that blasted a horrifying winged demon. He glanced at his kill count. 642. Will smiled. The microartillery bracelet kicked ass, but was nothing compared to his power rod.

      Turning his attention away from the game program, Will opened several more crates and set up his chemical analysis and modification lab. Once it was operative he concocted a cleansing healing potion. Rolling up his shirt sleeve, he applied it to his forearm where the Goth punk had sunken in his rusty screw teeth. The salve stung at first but as it began to simultaneously disinfect and heal, the pain lessened. Will watched as his skin repaired itself, the wounds pussing, then scabbing, then smoothing over in a matter of seconds instead of the usual days. It said a lot about how much he had to use it that he’d recalled his precise formula off the top of his head without having to consult the data on his mainframe.

      He was rolling his shirt sleeve back down when he heard a noise. His head jerked up to the right and he saw the barest flash of an image. Eyes, a pair of eyes. Silently cursing himself for leaving a small corner of one of the basement window wells exposed, he grabbed a boltdriver and sprinted out of his secret warren. He took the stairs three at a time and burst up into the kitchen and out the door.

      Outside he ducked into a crouch and quickly scanned the yard for movement. There! A figure was darting through the shadows. Fortunately the guy didn’t look too big or strong so Will pocketed the boltdriver and took off running across the dark yard, his feet slipping on the wet grass. The interloper was fast and evasive but Will had experience, lots of experience, not to mention time-bending speed, so when the guy zigged Will zagged and leapt into him, knocking him sideways and taking him down with a flying tackle. The guy was slender and strong and had arms taut with muscle, but Will swiftly overpowered him and flipped him over. Then his jaw dropped. It wasn’t a guy, it was a girl. It was her. Natalie.

      “Back off, you freak!” she shouted.

      “Whoa! Um, it’s Natalie, right?” he stammered.

      “Yeah, that’s right, it’s Natalie. I don’t think we really met properly before.”

      Will was stunned and didn’t see the punch coming. But he sure felt it. Not only was Natalie strong, she had one heck of an uppercut. Will blinked up at the stars, and now she was looking down at him. She looked pissed. “Do you always go around tackling people?”

      Will got up rubbing his jaw. He couldn’t help but notice again how she seemed even prettier when she was mad as a hornet.

      “Why are you in my yard?” he asked.

      “I was out walking, and I was . . . curious. This is my neighborhood, too, you know.” Natalie’s eyes sparkled with life and Will was again flummoxed, this time by his attraction to her.

      “What were you doing spying on me?”

      “The question is, what were you doing in your basement that you didn’t want anybody to see? And what is that thing?” She pointed to the boltdriver, which had fallen out of Will’s pocket.

      “It looks like some kind of taser or something. Are you a hood?”

      “It’s just a . . . prop. Sometimes I make videos.” Will hastily shoved the boltdriver back into his pocket.

      “Uh-huh.” Her tone said she didn’t buy it. “And that goopy stuff you were putting on your arm?”

      Will couldn’t answer immediately; he had to think about this. He decided that sometimes the best defense was a good offense.

      “I should turn you in for being a peeping Tom,” he said. He started walking back toward his house but stopped at her next words.

      “Fine, do that. And I’ll tell everyone I know about your secret little mad scientist laboratory in your basement.”

      A voice suddenly blurted from the hedge, “What secret mad scientist laboratory?”

      Both Will and Natalie jumped at the sound but relaxed as Rudy emerged from the shadows, crawling out of the hedge, brushing debris off himself.

      “What are you doing here?” demanded Will. This was not good. Things were quickly getting out of control.

      “What’s it look like? I’m snooping, eavesdropping, detecting.”

      “Well, you can cease and desist now, and depart,” said Will.

      “No way, José!” said Rudy. “I have as much right to know what’s going on here as she does.”

      Will looked to Natalie for help.

      “He’s not mine,” she said, then added, “So what’s it gonna be, you show-and-tell, or we tell and then you show?”

      He would have to make some kind of concession or he’d never get rid of them. He thought quickly. “What do you want?”

      “Well, for starters, you could slop some of that magic goop on this,” she said, holding up her elbow. Her long-sleeved T had torn and her elbow was bleeding.

      “Magic goop? Cool! Oh, she’s bleeding, I think I’m gonna faint.”

      “Please СКАЧАТЬ