The Millennial Box, Julie Steimle [classic books for 12 year olds .txt] 📗

to himself, realizing that he had unwittingly fallen into the obligation of guarding Zormna rather than just watching her. He didn't like it, but it was necessary.

The majority of the FBI agents had left the scene. Agents Palmer and Powell had led the first group of detainees out, and the Browns returned to their operations base. Only Agents Hayworth, Simms, and Sicamore remained. Steele had accompanied the agents outside and had not returned yet.

"Well, all is done here," Agent Hayworth announced to Agent Sicamore.

Jeff smirked with a peek to Zormna who was standing by silently, examining the seepage from the wound in Jeff's arm. "Not quite."

Zormna nodded with a look to him, immediately heading back to the upstairs. Jeff followed her.

Seeing them go, the three agents followed, though they did not know what the two teenagers were up to. When they reached the top landing, Zormna marched directly to the room indicated on the floor plan where they had guessed the killers had kept the box. She pushed the door open. Inside the room was a decent office room with paneled brown walls and polished walnut furniture with several computers. Jeff walked in past her and picked the collection of odd USBs that were sitting on the desk. These were those that Jeff had brought with them to Florida, all of which had Martian writing on them. Zormna had put them out. He stuck one into each of the computers' USB ports. Zormna went to the keyboards. They booted them all up and accessed the main server, uploading the contents of the drives. The agents just watched, confused.

"What are you doing?" Agent Hayworth finally asked.

Jeff glanced back with a smile. He checked once at all the computer screens then said, "Thousands of jerky High Class members access this social club's system - perhaps the same system used to let these men know where Zormna's great aunt lived." Jeff punched in a code and shoved another pronged-disk into the zip drive of the old fashioned computer connected to the server. "If we sabotage it now we just might save enough decent people from the guilt associated with this group."

Comprehending what Jeff had blatantly said, Agent Sicamore stared at the nearest computer. "You're destroying evidence!"

Jeff smiled wider. "On the contrary. We're saving lives."

Agent Sicamore leapt to the computer and jerked a USB stick out of the port.

"You're too late." Jeff chuckled. "The virus is already in the computer. And now it is working its magic."

The three agents stared at them, each one in mental panic over what could possibly be done to stop this. Zormna had a pleased expression on her face as she surveyed the computer activity. And Jeff was looking more relaxed than he had been in a long time. Even the stress of Dr. Simpson's threat had melted away.

"Now I can sleep well," Jeff said, leaning back in his chair.

But the FBI agents looked like they would be sick. Undoubtedly they had suspected some kind of double-cross, but hadn't even thought of this, which made Jeff even happier.

"How can you? You are destroying evidence of these men's involvement in the murders." Agent Simms kept clenching and unclenching his fists as if he didn't know what to do with them. It wasn't like he could physically restrain the electrons from breaking down inside the mainframe.

"No," Zormna said with a direct nod to Agent Simms. "You have proof. You did take their fingerprints, right? They did have what was stolen from you, right? They did hold you at gunpoint, right? They did stop you from searching the place, even though you had a warrant, right? You have plenty of evidence. Besides," Zormna walked over to the filing cabinet, and pulled a drawer open. "They have written files of all the members of this branch. I'm sure our fat, bald NASA link is one among those. And I don't care if these people end up arrested."

Admittedly, the FBI agents always saw Zormna as this sirenic, dangerous person whom they feared as much as they were fascinated by her. But this was like she was handing them a gift. With a nod, Agent Simms stepped back and marveled at her. Then he looked to Jeff who was watching with that boyish expression that said, 'I told you I didn't do it.'

The stern FBI agent shook his head and sighed. "Thank you."

Zormna chuckled, shaking her head. "Don't thank me. They will be too scared of the Patrol to tell you much under duress, so you won't get anything useful from them. Trust me."

She raised her eyebrows at the FBI agents and tugged on the USBs near her to remove them. Jeff collected the others. Both of them left the warehouse together.

As much as Zormna and Jeff had intended to leave that very night, they didn't. They stopped off at a pharmacy on their way to the motel where Zormna picked up bandages, tools, and antiseptic for Jeff's gunshot wound. When they returned to the motel, she made him sit on the toilet while she cleaned the wound and dug out the bullet. And though it was excruciating as she operated, Jeff was impressed at how gentle her hands really were when she sewed him up and rewrapped a clean bandage over it. Zormna then made him rest on the bed while she packed up their essentials. After all, she said, he had lost a lot of blood.

It was late when she was done packing, and Jeff was in no condition to travel. Both had agreed that they needed a break for him to recover, and so they went to the local diner across the street. Jeff insisted that Zormna try the peach cobbler this time, and the cocoa.

Steele showed up.

He sat in the booth next to them, ordering an omelet.

Zormna groaned, rising from her seat. With gesture for Jeff to stay sitting, she walked over to Steele's booth, a dark gaze fixed on him. "Why are you still following us?"

Lifting his dry eyes to her, Steele angled his skeptical gaze so he could peek towards Jeff who was listening in while munching on the cobbler. "I was hired to follow him. You know that."

Zormna rolled her eyes, propping her hands onto her hips, huffing.

"Look," Steele said, peeking once more to Jeff. "I have to keep up appearances. Besides, I need to know if he is all right."

Blinking, Zormna turned toward Jeff who turned around in his seat.

"Doctor Zormna fixed me up, thanks," Jeff said, lifting his wounded arm. It twinged, and he recoiled, lowering it quickly.

Sighing, Steele then looked up at Zormna again. This time he took in her face, meeting her eyes. "So...You're the One?"

Coloring a little at her cheeks, Zormna stepped back toward her booth, lifting her hands. "I make no such claims."

But Jeff was nodding.

She slapped him sharply on the head when she saw.

However, Jeff rose with a peek to Zormna who was taking her seat at the booth again. He turned around to face Steele. "You have to keep this under your hat."

Yet Steele chuckled incredulously, gazing to the ceiling. "But I had thought the prophecy had failed. That's why I left the..." he looked around himself, wondering if the FBI were listening in. He whispered, "How can you be sure?"

Peeking once again to Zormna, Jeff said, "As a Zeldar, I know."

Paling, Steele gazed at Zormna again who was averting her eyes from them both.

"But who is she besides a...you know?" Steele whispered. "Those agents still did not say. Clearly she is part of the Surface Patrol, but...obviously she is not in active service. And yet - she holds some kind of...of clout, doesn't she?"

Jeff closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I'd hate to sound like a broken recording, but it is better that you do not know. For your own sake."

Steele stared at them. Finally he sighed. Then he rose, paying for his meal while asking for a takeout box instead. "Fine. But know this Jeff, you are both under intense scrutiny by the federal government. And though this little cooperative venture has benefited you both, don't expect it to last. Those FBI are not playing around. Whatever it is that you and your 'uncle' are doing, you had better be circumspect about it. I do know that your so-called parents here might go under scrutiny again, as will all those you associate with - including those kids at that high school. What you do affects others."

"We're aware," Zormna said, rising. "Don't think we aren't."

Nodding to her, almost deferentially, Steele sighed again. "Alright. I just had to warn you. Because from now on, I have to play a role in which I need to deliver something good to the FBI."

Jeff chuckled, peeking at Zormna. "If you want something good, why don't you take a look at Agent Sicamore's parents? He's a second gen."

Steele stared wider at him. "Really?"

Both Zormna and Jeff nodded.

"It's our hold over him," Jeff explained with a wink. "And why he hired you. He wants you to keep my guys off of his parents. But...if you happen to discover the true nature of his parents...well, you can see where this can go. Right?"

Chuckling, Steele nodded. With another look to Zormna, he saluted and marched out of the café with his food.

When he was gone, Zormna met Jeff's gaze and said, "I still don't like him. He leers."

Laughing, Jeff nodded.

When they awoke late Monday morning, they were already packed. All they had to do was shower and dress. Because Jeff was still lightheaded from blood loss, Zormna did most of the driving.

It was the latter half of Tuesday before they arrived home to Pennington. They had intended to sneak into town and spend Tuesday night at Jeff's place, but that couldn't be. They were seen coming off the old highway by Mr. Humphries, their English teacher, who was at a gas station fueling up after school before heading to his home in Billsburg. He watched them come off the highway, shaking his head as they rode by. Zormna was steering the motorcycle, which surprised the teacher. Both teenagers were windswept and dirty, having traveled traveled quite a distance in a short period of time. The two had turned north and were heading toward Jeff's end of the neighborhood when Jeff had tapped Zormna on the shoulder and insisted they refuel. So they took a U turn and rolled into the same gas station.

They pulled up to a pump. Jeff climbed off the motorcycle first, peeling off his helmet. Grinning exhaustedly at the gas pump, he checked out the prices. As he was unhooking the pump, Zormna kicked down the stand and climbed off, removing her helmet.

"You pay for the gas," Jeff said, handing her a fifty-dollar bill.

She nodded. She didn't even see Mr. Humphries staring at them through the pumps. She took the fifty and walked toward the building front, getting used to her land legs again.

"A little late for school, Mr. Streigle?" Mr. Humphries finally said after a while of waiting for Jeff to notice him, hanging up his gas hose.

Jeff blinked, hearing the voice. Then he blinked again, seeing his teacher for the first time. "Mr. Humphries!" Jeff almost dropped the gas nozzle he was holding.

"You have missed two entire days. I hope you have a good explanation for your behavior." Mr. Humphries casually screwed on the gas cap to his car and closed the cover with a click.

Jeff swallowed, his face going warm. "Well, I uh..."

Zormna stepped out of the mini-mart, carrying two sodas with her with a skip in her step. "They didn't have your favorite. I hope a simple lemon-lime will do. They didn't have any orange juice either," she said, handing him the drink.

Jeff took it limply, still hanging onto the gas hose.

"Jafarr, I think the tank is full," she said.

The hose had been stopping. Jeff lifted it out of the tank and hooked it up to the pump, still staring at his teacher.

"Hello, Miss Clendar," Mr. Humphries said, folding his