44
Changes
Their next two days off were neither fun nor especially relaxing. Now, whenever they visited the buffet, as often as not there was a soldier standing at the tables, poring over their whimsical requests, clearly hoping for something more familiar, like a hot dog, maybe, or a peanut butter sandwich. Kaitlyn soon realized there were only a handful of them. The same faces appeared again and again in different places, at different times, but still, it was odd to see any new people at all. And odder still that they were soldiers.
What was most unsettling, however, was that they never smiled—not like Miller, who would at least sneak her a wink now and then, and who would practice Muay Thai with Mackenzie or play lifeguard if they asked so they could enjoy a couple of hours in the pool. The new soldiers always looked serious, all the time.
They never spoke to the students, and they never seemed to be off duty. They never sat around chatting with each other. They never used the gaming room, which had stood empty ever since Rush had left, too painful a reminder of his absence. They did occasionally use the workout facilities, but even then they were on their guard, alert, never laughing or telling stories. Whenever they happened to run into each other, their greeting was nothing more than a subtle acknowledgment—a brief nod of the head, a quick glance that said, “I know you. You may go about your business. You are not a threat.”
Mackenzie, of course, was not fazed in the least. If anything, she seemed even more in her element, returning to her workout routine, practicing Muay Thai with Miller, and adopting the same air of professionalism and dedication as though she had been breathing it all her life—which, Kaitlyn supposed, she had been.
Kaitlyn was happy for her in a way. The soldiers clearly made Mackenzie feel more at home. But she couldn’t help feeling that her new friend was pulling away from them all, that the more time she spent in the world she had known before, the less she seemed like Grid, and the more she seemed like Mackenzie Gray: on task, serious, and guarded.
When they finally returned to the summoning room, there was yet another change waiting for them. Now, in addition to Miller, there was also a small table pushed up against the far wall, with metal legs and a durable, white plastic top, upon which sat a spray can, a small plate of food, a clean rag, and a bowl of water.
Looking more closely, Kaitlyn scrunched up her face at the food selection. It was clearly someone’s idea of what gryphon cubs might like to eat: some treats for house cats; two small, half-thawed fish; and a dead, skinned mouse, which Kaitlyn grudgingly had to admit was a smart choice, as it would appeal to both an eagle and a lion cub. But that didn’t make it any less disgusting.
“Let’s do this, people,” Mackenzie said, her eyes flashing with intensity. She was just as animated as the last time, but somehow today it came across as commanding, rather than merely enthusiastic.
“Aye aye, Cap’n Bligh,” Sam snapped back, offering her a sporty salute.
“This isn’t a game, Sam,” Mackenzie said, using her given name instead of her gamer tag for the first time since Rush had left.
“I never said it was, Mac,” Sam retorted.
“Today,” Ammu said, glancing from one girl to the other, “the intention is to entice the creature to interact with us. We hope to learn what it eats, and we would like to see whether paint can mark it effectively.
“The paint is only temporary,” he continued, holding up a hand to fend off Kaitlyn’s horrified expression. “Remember, we must find a way to counter something like the creature we saw in the video. We are here to save lives—not just of soldiers, but potentially of civilians as well. Even the lives of your own families. For some of us, these are one and the same.”
He said this last while looking pointedly at Mackenzie, and Kaitlyn realized that the change she had seen in her friend might not have anything to do with the soldiers at the ICIC. Mackenzie’s father was serving overseas, maybe even in Afghanistan as far as Kaitlyn knew, and just a few short days ago they had all watched a helicopter full of soldiers get killed by something this very program was designed to stop.
Like it or not, Mackenzie was right; this wasn’t a game. What they were doing could have life or death consequences for the people they loved.
“I’m ready,” Kaitlyn announced.
Ammu reached for the book, but she shook her head.
“I don’t need it,” she declared. “I have it.” And she tapped a finger lightly against her temple.
Ammu raised an eyebrow in surprise but left the book in his satchel.
“Ready?” Mackenzie asked, looking at Sam, who nodded back, at least somewhat appeased for being asked. Mackenzie then looked at Daniel and Sketch in turn, and they both nodded, too. Kaitlyn drew the circle on the floor, and Mackenzie chose their starting position.
“Count us in, Tick-Tock,” she said, meeting Sam’s gaze and adding, “when you’re ready.”
“OK.” Sam took a deep breath. “It’s go time. One… two… one, two, three, four.”
Despite the initial tension, their focus was clear. Kaitlyn’s runes glowed softly even as she traced them out, Sketch watching in fascination as the perfectly normal chalk in her hand seemed to be drawing in blue light on the floor. Daniel’s voice was even more confident today, and he sang rather than humming, the notes ringing out clearly in the strange, white room. When Sam stopped to look at Sketch, he was already nodding in confirmation.
“Letting it through,” Sam announced, and a few moments later, the gryphon exploded through the portal, braking immediately this time and flying straight up in the air, surveying the situation cautiously.
“It’s just us,” Mackenzie said softly. “Remember us? I know we upset you last time, but we want to make it up to you. Look, we brought you something. See?”
Moving slowly, so as not to startle it, she picked up the plate and placed it on the floor below the hovering gryphon cub.
“Give it some room, everybody.”
They all moved back toward the walls, trying not to frighten it. Even Sam stepped carefully out of the circle and backed away, crouching low as she moved.
The gryphon turned this way and that in midair, watching them all. When it was satisfied that no one was trying to grab it, the cub finally descended toward the plate.
It landed neatly, coming down on its hind legs and then using its wings to settle down gently until it was standing on all fours. It folded its wings into its sides and stretched its neck forward to examine their offerings, drawing in a few long breaths as though trying to smell the food through its beak.
“That’s unusual,” Kaitlyn whispered.
“For a gryphon?” Sam whispered back, her glance registering obvious skepticism.
“I mean for a bird,” Kaitlyn clarified, shooting Sam a wry scowl. “It has an eagle’s head, but eagles don’t have a great sense of smell. They hunt with their eyes.”
“I don’t think they have ears either,” Sam responded, her voice managing to drip with sarcasm despite being barely audible.
“That’s true,” Kaitlyn conceded, ignoring Sam’s tone.
“We must not make the mistake of seeing it as either an eagle or a lion,” Ammu murmured, seeing that the gryphon was not disturbed by their words, “or even as a combination of the two. It has surface similarities to both of those animals, but the gryphon is a creature in its own right, neither eagle nor lion, but only gryphon. We must see it as it is if we are truly to understand it.”
The gryphon seemed to agree, whipping its head away from the plate in disgust, not having discovered anything upon it that was worth eating—least of all the dead mouse, one whiff of which had caused the gryphon to shove the plate violently away from itself with one strong, taloned foot.
“Well, that didn’t go well,” Sam muttered.
“We need to try the paint,” Ammu directed, nodding at Mackenzie, who stood closest to the table with the spray can. “If you would, please.”
“It already didn’t like the food,” Mackenzie argued softly. “If we start spraying paint at it, it’s never going to trust us.”
“If this creature becomes too suspicious of us, we will summon something else for further experimentation,” Ammu said gently. “Please, Mackenzie. The paint can.”
But we know it will work with us. It did before, when we summoned it on our own, she thought, but she couldn’t admit that, especially here, where they were surely being filmed. I’m sorry, she thought to it helplessly. I’m so sorry.
She got up and moved toward the spray can, picking it up in one hand and pointing it toward the gryphon cub, which cocked its head at her inquisitively. Mackenzie took a deep breath, preparing herself for the task, but just as she was about to hit the trigger, she heard a sudden whistle from the edge of the room.
Startled, Mackenzie and the gryphon both turned toward the sound to see Daniel crouching near the wall, trying to appear smaller, less threatening. He motioned to everyone to do the same, and they all did, kneeling or sitting in place. Then he whistled again, several notes this time, repeating a piece of the tune he had sung during the summoning.
Mackenzie trembled in relief, releasing the breath she hadn’t even realized she had been holding. She felt as though she had just received a stay of execution, if only a temporary one.
Daniel clearly had the gryphon’s attention, and he whistled at it again—but the cub glanced around behind itself, staring uneasily at Miller, who still stood in the corner, armed and alert, completely unable to see what was happening.
“Get down,” Mackenzie whispered to him, pressing one hand down through the air to reinforce her words.
Miller stared at her and then glanced back at the one-way mirror.
“Just do it,” she hissed, knitting her eyebrows together and tightening her lips, trying to look more adamant without raising her voice.
Miller watched her uneasily, but when no counter order was forthcoming, he finally crouched down in the corner, maintaining a ready stance while allowing one knee to rest on the floor. He shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows at her questioningly, but the gryphon seemed to be satisfied, turning its head back toward Daniel and whistling the notes back to him.
“Awesome!” Sketch whispered. “Do more!”
Daniel grinned and nodded, humming more of the tune. In response, the gryphon took two steps toward Daniel and whistled at him again, repeating the sequence perfectly. Encouraged, Daniel sang to the gryphon softly, not stopping this time, and after a few moments, the cub moved toward him, cautiously at first but then more boldly, whistling along with him where sections of the eerie melody repeated itself. It sat in front of Daniel, cocking its head, and Daniel signaled to Mackenzie to hand the can to Sketch.
Grateful to be out of the hot seat, Mackenzie made her way toward Sketch, stretching out to hand him the paint can as soon as she was within reach and then backing away from them both. Sketch moved the can into position as though to spray it and looked at Daniel for confirmation, but Daniel shook his head. Instead, Daniel reached his hand out toward Sketch.
Sketch placed the can in Daniel’s hand, but Daniel just shook his head and handed it back to Sketch, pushing it toward the other boy until he took it. He placed his hand in front of Sketch one more time, and Sketch finally got it. Grinning, he sprayed a mess of wet, neon orange paint into Daniel’s hand.
The gryphon looked up at the sound but soon decided that the spray can had nothing to do with it. Returning its attention to Daniel, it began to experiment with harmonies, creating an impromptu duet between them. Slowly, Daniel moved his hand toward the gryphon and stroked its back. He was careful not to penetrate the surface of the gryphon’s strange form, allowing the paint to run over its side, which made Miller gasp a little when the paint seemed to remain suspended in midair.
The gryphon, however, was not disturbed in the slightest. It looked curiously at the orange swath that dripped down its side and then shimmered slightly, causing the paint to disappear as it continued whistling with Daniel.
“Thank you, Daniel,” Ammu said quietly, acknowledging that they had what they needed.
Daniel stood up and moved toward the portal. The gryphon cub followed him readily, and when Daniel felt that they were close enough, he stopped singing the gryphon’s summoning tune and whistled something else instead—the exact notes the cub had whistled to Rush in the workshop, just before leaving.
The gryphon cocked its head at him, and Daniel repeated the notes carefully. The cub narrowed its eyes a little but then whistled the quick tune back to him, flew up into the air, and dove into the tunnel. Once its tail had completely disappeared, Daniel walked calmly over to the table, picked up the rag, dipped it in the water bowl, and returned to the circle, using the rag to wipe the runes away.