Stranded (A stand-alone SF thriller) (The Prometheus Project Book 3) (2 page)

Now they spent almost every weekend, and several nights each week, inside the remarkable city. They assisted top scientists who were attempting to unlock the secrets of Qwervy technology. They were part of the most important project in history, one that had already led to numerous scientific breakthroughs.

No wonder Ryan found it nearly impossible to stay focused on Mr. McPherson as he delivered information Ryan already knew with all the excitement of a robot. Ryan’s eyelids slid shut three times and each time he managed to jerk them open again, shaking his head to bring himself back to life. Finally, despite his heroic efforts, his eyes closed for good, his chin fell against his chest, and he drifted into unconsciousness.

“So who can tell me the definition of ‘absolute zero?’” said the tall teacher in bored tones.

Thirty-three students sat at desks in the front half of the class. Behind them were rows of long black chemistry benches, each with a sink, evenly spaced gas lines that could be connected to Bunsen burners with rubber tubing, bottles filled with chemicals of all kinds, and beakers and flasks in various shapes and sizes.

Several eager hands shot up immediately as Mr. McPherson surveyed his class. His eyes narrowed as they settled on Ryan Resnick in the second row. He ignored the few still-outstretched arms that stood out like tall, thick weeds in a well-trimmed lawn of students, and walked quietly over to Ryan. Mr. McPherson stood as close to him as he could get and folded his arms irritably.

Ryan’s chin remained glued to his thin, black sweatshirt as his subconscious mind failed to notice how unnaturally quiet the class had become and awaken him. After ten seconds of hovering over his motionless student, Mr. McPherson made an exaggerated show of
looking at his watch, which elicited a roar of laughter from the entire class.

The laughter broke Ryan from his nap, and when he opened his eyes to find Mr. McPherson’s scrawny, goa-teed face staring at him from point blank range, he was so startled that he actually pushed his chair—with the desk attached—six inches backward.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” snarled Mr. McPherson.

“Uh … sorry,” said Ryan, as the class laughed once again.

“Okay, Ryan, now that you’re with us in mind as well as body, why don’t you tell the class what I mean by the phrase, ‘absolute zero.’”

The definition, and much more about the topic, flashing into Ryan’s brain in an instant. He had learned about this subject from a member of the Prometheus team who had won a Nobel Prize in chemistry. Absolute zero was the coldest temperature anything in the universe could ever be. It was −273° Celsius or −460° Fahrenheit, a temperature at which even the microscopic movements of molecules virtually stopped, frozen in place.

“Absolute zero?” repeated Ryan, as if stalling for time.

“That’s right,” said Mr. McPherson.

Ryan shrugged stupidly and gritted his teeth. “Uh … my chance of getting an A in participation this week,” he said with just a hint of a smile.

The class erupted in laughter yet again, the exact reaction for which Ryan had been hoping.

“No,” said Mr. McPherson seriously. “That’s
absolutely
zero, not
absolute
zero. But you’re not wrong about your participation grade, that’s for sure.”

The grim-faced chemistry teacher moved away from Ryan and called on another member of the class.

Ryan could have easily given a dazzling answer that would have blown Mr. McPherson away, but more and more lately the existence of a certain girl was affecting his every behavior.

He had just turned fifteen and was in his first year of high school. As much as he loved being a part of the Prometheus Project, it was a curse socially. In San Diego he had had numerous close friends. He had played soccer and baseball, and kept up with the latest video games. But now that he spent almost every weekend in Prometheus, he had been forced to give up on these other activities. He was generally well liked and there were a lot of kids he was friendly with at school, but close friends did things together
outside
of school, and he just didn’t have the time for that.

Without close friends or any outside activities he could talk about, he knew that if he showed off his scientific knowledge too much the other students would classify him as a single-minded nerd, whose only interest was studying. He had never cared about this before, but then again, he had never met the girl of his dreams before, either. Next week he was determined to ask her
on a date, so it wasn’t such a bad idea to practice being a little more normal, even though his secret life made him anything but.

“Ryan, are you there?”
came a telepathic broadcast from his sister.

Okay, thought Ryan, shaking his head, maybe his secret life on the Prometheus team wasn’t the
only
thing that made him different. He should probably count the whole,
telepathy with his sister
thing also. He was confident the first few dates with a girl would be okay, but he wondered how long he could keep almost everything about his life hidden before a girl decided he was about as normal as a two-foot elf with a foot growing out of its forehead.

“Yeah,”
Ryan broadcast back.
“What’s up?”

Ryan and Regan’s telepathy stemmed from their interactions with Prometheus’s super-advanced central computer, which they had activated during their first adventure within the city. Since they had been inside an alien schoolhouse at the time, the computer had introduced itself simply as the
Teacher
. It had connected with them telepathically, and afterwards they found they could communicate with each other in the same way! Over a range of about fifteen miles. Since this ability was due to their interactions with the Teacher, and they had promised to keep its identity secret, they had decided to keep their telepathy secret as well.

“My teacher just told me that Mom called the front office. She’s pulling us out early. She’ll be here soon and wants us to meet her at the front desk.”

“Any idea why?”
asked Ryan as he absently closed his book and began loading up his tan backpack.

“No,”
answered his sister.
“But who cares? As long as we get to start the weekend early.”

Ryan was about to reply when he realized the mistake he had made. But it was too late. Mr. McPherson’s beady eyes had already locked onto his fully loaded backpack like two laser-guided missiles. Ryan groaned. How could he be so stupid?

“Going somewhere, Ryan?” snapped Mr. McPherson.

Ryan decided in a flash his best strategy was to pretend he had no idea what his teacher was talking about. He put a bewildered look on his face and pointed at his own chest as if to say, “Who, me?” when the phone on Mr. McPherson’s desk began to ring. The tall chemistry teacher put the receiver to his ear, listened for a short time, and then returned it to its cradle.

Mr. McPherson stared at Ryan long and hard, and then shook his head in disapproval. “That was the office asking me to excuse you from class,” he told Ryan. “Which you
obviously
expected,” he added, gesturing toward Ryan’s fully loaded backpack in disgust while thirty-two thoroughly entertained students looked on in fascination. “Next time, Mr. Resnick, if you know
you’ll be leaving my class early, I expect you to tell me about it
before
we start. Is that understood?”

Ryan stood up and hoisted his backpack to his shoulder. “Absolutely,” he said as he exited the class. “It won’t happen again.”

He may have recently decided he didn’t want his classmates to see him as nothing but a science nerd, but being seen as a troublemaker wasn’t exactly what he had in mind either.

As Ryan thought about this he began to laugh at himself. He was taking things far too seriously. It was only school after all. He would find a way to get it right.

Ryan made his way through the hall toward the front office to await his mother’s arrival, his mood improving with every step. He had no idea what was in store for him the rest of the day, but he was sure it couldn’t be any worse than his morning had been.

CHAPTER 2
Leaving School

T
he large, old-fashioned circular clock on the wall of the school’s front offices read 10:42 as Ryan signed himself out of school. When he finished, he handed the pen to Regan who was standing beside him.

The outer door flew open, but instead of their mother, a girl who was in Ryan’s English class, Alyssa Cooper, stepped inside the school’s main entrance. She wore jeans, a yellow sweater, and brown flats. She held a small book in one hand and walked toward the front reception area, where Ryan and his sister were now standing. Ryan’s heart skipped a beat and his breath shortened. How incredibly lucky! Since he was leaving school early he had thought he wouldn’t see her until Monday.

“Hi Ryan,” she said cheerfully. Her perfect blond hair hung below her delicate shoulders and bounced slightly as she moved. Her skin was as smooth as silk.

“Hi Alyssa,” said Ryan, his green eyes locked on hers. He moved over to let her reach the sign-in sheet, happily breathing the delicate perfume she was wearing.

While she was signing in, Ryan quickly tried to straighten his brown hair with his fingertips, although his hair was so short it was difficult to imagine just how out of place it could possibly ever be. Ryan had undergone a growth spurt recently that had not only added inches to his height but had filled out his thin frame nicely. All in all, he had grown into a confident young man that many would find handsome.

Regan watched her brother’s reaction to Alyssa Cooper with utter fascination. Even his stance was more rigid than usual, and he seemed to be tightening his stomach and broadening his chest just slightly. Regan grinned. Now she knew the reason he had started doing pushups every day for the past few months, and flexing his arm muscles in front of mirrors just as regularly.

“You’ve got a crush on her!”
transmitted Regan tele-pathically while Alyssa finished signing in.

“What are you talking about?”
snapped Ryan.
“We may be able to talk telepathically, but you can’t read my mind.”

Regan smiled.
“I don’t have to. You’ve got it bad.”

“Could you just stay out of my head right now,”
he shot back.

“So are you and your sister leaving early?” said Alyssa as she finished her task and returned the pen to the counter.

Ryan nodded. “Yeah. My mom will be here any minute. What about you?”

“Just got back from the dentist,” she said with a broad smile that lit up her face and revealed perfect teeth. “No cavities.”

“Congratulations,” said Ryan.

Alyssa beamed. “Thanks.”

The school’s main offices were temporarily deserted. The nurse was helping a student who had injured an ankle and the woman who usually manned the reception desk was using the restroom. Principal Lyons was in her office with the door closed. Given this, Alyssa didn’t appear to be in any hurry to rush off to her class, which was already in session.

Regan had wandered a few yards away and was pretending to read a brochure on the counter, but Ryan knew she was still listening intently.

“So how long have you liked Alyssa Cooper?”
asked Regan.

“Would you leave me alone already!”
he yelled into her mind.

Ryan smiled at Alyssa. “So are you starting to like Brewster any better?” he asked. Alyssa had moved from Chicago only four months earlier, and Brewster Pennsylvania took some getting used to. Especially for someone who had come from a big city.

Alyssa attempted a halfhearted smile. “A little.” She
paused and then sighed heavily. “Your parents work at Proact, right Ryan?”

“Right,” replied Ryan, even though this wasn’t—exactly—the truth. Proact was a company established by the government as a cover for the scientists on the Prometheus team. Included within its twenty-acre grounds was the only means of reaching the underground city—an elevator housed within an exceedingly well-protected concrete bunker. In addition to Prometheus scientists, Proact employed top scientists from every field who had no knowledge of the city a mile beneath their feet. These scientists worked on advanced projects using human science and technology.

“Do you ever get to
see
them?” continued Alyssa with a frown.

Ryan titled his head slightly in confusion. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

Alyssa hesitated, and from the expression on her face Ryan could tell she was deciding just how much she should open up to him. Finally she said, “Well, you know my parents are divorced. My sister and I live with our mom and grandmother. But for the past three months we’ve barely seen my mom. And the few times we have she’s been
really
stressed out. You can barely talk to her. I know Proact’s a big deal, but is that how your parents were when they first started working there?”

For just a moment, Alyssa’s face revealed the true
depth of the anguish behind this question. Ryan suspected her mother was part of Prometheus, not just Proact.

“Regan, do you know if her mom’s on the team?”
he asked.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Come on, Regan, the team’s growing like crazy and I’m horrible with names.”

“You can be such an idiot, Ryan. Not only is she a member of Prometheus, but she works for our mother! How can you not know that?”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well,” said Ryan aloud. “You know there’s more important and fascinating work going on at Promethe … um … at Proact than just about anywhere else in the world. Your mom’s probably just excited to be a part of it. She probably finds it almost impossible to leave work. Give her some time. She’ll come around.”

Alyssa thought about this for a moment. Her grandmother was suffering through her mom’s absences and moody behavior as well, and had told Alyssa and her sister, Kelsey, the same thing Ryan just had. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” she said, looking hopeful but not entirely convinced. She put her hand on Ryan’s arm for just a moment and electricity surged through him. “Thanks Ryan.”