“What are you talking about, Tom?” he asked with a grimace. “Who are we, Scooby and Shaggy?”

  I laughed. “Not that kind of trap.” I glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “I’m just talking about a way to flush them out. Find out who it is.”

  Noah rolled his eyes. “Man, I just want to fix our rockets and finish our project.”

  “Don’t you want to prove Sam didn’t vandalize anything?” I asked.

  “Of course I do,” Noah replied. “I just don’t see how we can do that.”

  “What if we could do both?” I asked him.

  Noah smirked. “All right, big-idea man. How are we going to do that?”

  I pulled out my phone and checked my weather app. “Good,” I said. “It’s supposed to be cloudy tomorrow morning. The humidity looks good too. Hopefully the clouds will be low enough.”

  “So we launch tomorrow?” asked Noah.

  “Right,” I replied. Then I raised a finger. “Hold that thought.” I stood and addressed the Swift Academy students once more. “Uh, can I have your attention once again?” I asked. I waited for the conversations to die down before continuing. “Just so you know, if you’re going to be at the north end of the camp tomorrow, you’d better have an umbrella.” I gave a wide grin. “Noah and I are going to launch our cloud-seeding rockets at around…” I glanced down at Noah. “Eight o’clock?” I asked him. He just shrugged. “Eight o’clock,” I repeated more confidently.

  I sat back down and various discussions continued.

  “What was that all about?” Noah asked.

  “Simple. We get to conduct our experiment,” I replied. “And anyone who shows an interest gets put on the short list of vandal suspects.”

  “Why would he or she want to see our experiment?” asked Noah.

  I smiled. “Since we supposedly don’t know anything is wrong with our rockets, they’re due to fly off in twelve different directions tomorrow. Who wouldn’t want to see that?”

  Noah matched my smile. “I know I would.”

  We finished our lunch and went back to our cabin. We were going to need as much time as possible to repair our rockets. On the way back, we crossed paths with Jenna, hiking and charging. I told her about our upcoming test. If anyone can spread news, it’s her.

  Noah and I spent the rest of the day working on the rockets. Now, putting tape on each fin doesn’t sound like a big deal. But when each piece of tape has to be measured out precisely and placed in exactly the same spot on every fin, it takes a lot longer than you would think. It was painstaking work. I calculated that the added weight of the tape would cost us a couple of meters in altitude. Amy would’ve been able to give me precise calculations, but she wasn’t returning my e-mails.

  By the time we were finished, we decided not to leave our rockets unattended until the launch. So for dinner, Noah went to the chow hall and brought food back for us.

  Later that night, Mr. Alexander scheduled some kind of campfire presentation for everyone. It sounded like a good distraction, so I went and Noah stayed behind—he wanted to stay and watch over our rockets. There were songs, skits by the camp counselors—it was kind of cool, actually. But fun aside, I mainly went hoping to run into Sam or Amy—except neither of them was there. In fact, there was a low Swift Academy turnout in general.

  I’m guessing Noah and I weren’t the only ones trying to salvage our sabotaged project.

  And that brought up another question. Why just the Swift Academy experiments? Did someone have a beef with the entire school? I thought maybe one of the camp counselors might’ve done it, since they had access to all the gear. Then I thought it might be someone from another school. But in either case, why just target Swift Academy? Oddly enough, it made the most sense that it was someone from our school, since the sabotage began before we even got to camp.

  By the time I made it back to our cabin, I was exhausted and ready to turn in early. But when I found Noah sitting on the edge of his bed wearing his VR headset, I was wide-awake and irritated.

  “Dude,” I said. “You’re supposed to be guarding our stuff.”

  Noah pushed the visor up onto his forehead. “I have the volume off,” he explained. “No one’s been in here since you left. I guarantee it.”

  “You guarantee it, huh?” I asked.

  “Yup,” he replied.

  I guess I believed him. But don’t get me wrong. I still opened our bin and looked over our rockets, just to be sure.

  “Man, wait until you see what people did with my program,” Noah said. “On the second floor…”

  “Dude, spoilers,” I said, cutting him off.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t want to ruin the surprise.” He pointed to his headset. “You want to check it out?”

  I shook my head. “Some other time. I’m going to look up the weather again, and recheck our calculations.”

  I did just that while Noah returned to his virtual Swift Academy. Soon after, we turned in for the night.

  * * *

  After a not-so-restful night’s sleep (Terry Stephenson snores like an idling motorcycle), it was my turn to run out and get breakfast. Again, I didn’t see Sam or Amy there. I couldn’t tell if I just missed them or if they were avoiding everyone because of the rumor.

  When I returned, Noah and I gathered our equipment and we ate on the run. We had to make it to the field and get set up by eight o’clock. Not only was that when I had told the entire camp that we were doing our experiment, but it also happened to be the best time of the day for weather conditions. The clouds were low in the sky and the humidity was high. That means there were some fat clouds just hanging there, waiting for our rockets to push that humidity over the edge and into rain territory.

  When we arrived at the field, we got to work. Our new setup was slightly more complicated than the one for our previous test. We were launching twelve rockets, so they had to be attached to twelve metal guide rods. Twelve rockets also meant twelve igniters and twelve wires leading to the trigger. Of course, to complicate matters, we planned to launch the rockets in four salvos—three rockets at a time. Luckily, we had loaded all the chemicals into each rocket’s payload area the night before. This was all about launch arrangement and management.

  While Noah finished wiring up the rockets, I moved to the edge of the clearing and attached my phone to a tripod. Since the schools’ attending teachers and competition judges couldn’t be all over the camp at once, we had to record our experiment and findings to show them later. I got a nice angle of the rockets with plenty of room to catch them in flight. Noah was going handheld, making sure he caught anything my phone missed.

  “What’s the time?” I asked Noah.

  He checked his phone. “Seven fifty-five.”

  I scanned the woods around the clearing. There was no one else around. Here we were, almost ready to launch, and no one had bothered to show up.

  So much for my big plan. I sighed. Maybe I would’ve done better concocting some kind of Scooby-Doo trap.

  Noah glanced around and shrugged. “No one came,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know,” I admitted. “Let’s just concentrate on the experiment.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Noah said. He pressed a button on his phone and turned it around. “Newton and Swift cloud-seeding project.” He aimed the phone back at the rockets and took a step back.

  “Going hot,” I announced as I flipped the main power switch. “Launching in three, two, one…” I pressed the first launch button.

  WHOOSH!

  Three rockets shot off the launchpad. I pressed the second launch button.

  WHOOSH!

  Three more rockets took off. I pressed the third launch button.

  WHOOSH!

  The last three rockets raced toward the sky. Every one of them shot straight up; not one of them flew off course.

  Noah aimed his phone at the rockets as they soared high above us. Almost in perfect unison, the first three rockets ignited their second stages. Their three booster stages fell toward the ground as the rockets soared higher and higher until they disappeared into the low clouds. The rest of the rockets did the same until they all vanished. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

  Then I saw something out of the corner of my eye—a flash of bright green. I turned and spotted someone at the far edge of the clearing. It looked as if someone came to watch us after all—someone wearing a Bradley shirt.

  From this distance, I couldn’t make out who the person was. And as I squinted my eyes and stared a bit longer, the person darted away, running deeper into the woods.

  “Hey!” I shouted as I took off after them.

  “Tom?” Noah asked.

  “I see our guy!” I exclaimed, and ran toward the edge of the clearing. Soon Noah was right behind me.

  When we hit the woods, we darted around trees and ducked under low branches. Just like when I was chasing the rocket, we kept having to look down to avoid tripping. But this time, our target was a green shirt that was getting smaller and smaller. The spy was getting away.

  And after ten more meters, I found out why. We ran out of the woods and onto an open trail. That was why the person was making better time. He or she didn’t have to dodge trees and fallen branches. We took advantage of the open space ourselves and hastened into a sprint.

  We had lost sight of the green shirt around a corner but caught a glimpse of it again during a long straightaway.

  “There he is,” I said. “Come on!”

  Our footfalls echoed down the trail as we poured on even more speed. When we lost sight of it again around a winding turn, we moved even faster. Hopefully, we could close enough distance to at least identify the suspect.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen.

  “Whoa,” Noah said as we turned onto another straightaway.

  We both slowed considerably as we entered a large fog bank. It began as a few tendrils snaking across the trail. But the farther we traveled, the thicker the fog became. We eventually had to stop completely so we wouldn’t run smack into a tree.

  “It’s no good… we lost him,” Noah said, panting heavily. “Let’s go… get our gear.”

  “I’ll meet you… back there,” I said, breathing hard myself. “I’m not… giving up yet.”

  Noah nodded and backed out the way we had come. I found myself alone in a disorienting field of white. I carefully inched forward.

  The strange fog came on so quickly and was so localized that I knew it couldn’t be a natural occurrence.

  “Mia?” I shouted. “You got some more fog fluid, I see.”

  “Who’s that?” came Mia’s disembodied voice. She sounded close.

  “It’s Tom,” I replied. “Where are you?”

  There was no reply. Then a hand fell onto my shoulder and I jumped. Mia laughed as I spun around. She was still hard to see through the thick fog even though she was standing right beside me.

  “Did you see someone run through here?” I asked.

  Mia raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding?”

  Mia’s project was similar to Evan’s. But instead of harvesting water from moisture in the air, she created a special net that absorbed water from fog. Now, since she couldn’t rely on a natural fog occurring, Mia had planned to borrow some of her father’s special-effects fog machines and make her own fog. Instead of measuring the amount of water it absorbed, she would measure the amount of fog fluid.

  I glanced around, trying to get my bearings. “All right, well, I’m passing through, so where’s your net?”

  Mia pointed past me. “It’s strung up along the side of the trail, on the right. If you stay on the trail, you won’t hit it.”

  “Thanks,” I said as I began to shuffle forward. I kept my eyes on the ground so I could slowly move forward while staying on the trail.

  I kept shuffling down the trail and I thought I spotted part of Mia’s net strung across some trees on my right. It was too bad that her net wasn’t strung across the trail itself. That way she could’ve caught the spy for me. As it was now, I just hoped that the fog slowed down the spy’s progress enough so they didn’t get too far ahead.

  As the fog thinned, I picked up the pace. The more of my surroundings I could see, the faster I moved. Soon I was back to a full run, racing down the trail, until I came to a screeching halt.

  The trail split off into two different directions. I had lost the spy.

  10 The Corrugated Concealment

  I WENT FROM ONE TRAIL to another, looking for any kind of sign as to which one the spy had run down. But who was I kidding? I couldn’t track someone through the woods like that. And even if I could, these were well-worn hiking trails in a summer camp. There was no way I could figure out which trail the spy had taken.

  Darn it! I spun on my heels, heading back toward the clearing. So much for my big plan.

  “Hey, Tom,” greeted a voice.

  I stopped and spun back around. There was no one on either trail in front of me. I peered into the woods beside me. I was alone.

  “Up here,” said the voice.

  I looked up and spotted Jason high in one of the pine trees. Once again, he straddled a branch and had wires and cables running past him. I followed them down to spot another little Tree of Charge birdhouse attached to the lower trunk of the tree.

  “Jason,” I said. “How many of those are you putting in?”

  He shrugged. “Ten in all,” he replied. “I’m calculating their efficiency based on topography, weather patterns, forest density…”

  “That’s really interesting,” I interrupted. “And I’d love to hear all about it. Really. But right now, can you tell me if you saw someone run through here a second ago? Someone in a green shirt?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jason said. He pointed to the trail on the left. “He just ran down this trail.”

  “Thanks,” I said as I started down the trail.

  “But he didn’t stay on the trail,” Jason continued.

  I skidded to a stop. “Where did he go?”

  “He cut into the woods on the left,” Jason explained.

  My shoulders drooped. How was I supposed to follow his trail through the woods?

  “And then,” Jason continued, “he came out near the main road and headed toward that big shipping container. I think he went inside. It’s hard to make out from here.”

  “Shipping container?” I asked. For a second there, I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Yeah, you know,” Jason replied. “That rich kid’s survival cabin. He’s been showing it off to anyone who will listen.”

  A grin spread across my face. “Thanks!” I shouted as I took off down the trail. I cut left, into the forest, ducked a few more branches, and then burst through to the main road. It was right next to—you guessed it—Andrew Foger’s cabin.

  There were two windows I could peek through to find out who had been spying on us. Unfortunately, there were the occasional student and teacher walking up the main road. The last thing I needed was Peeping Tom as a new nickname.

  Instead of going to the windows, I tried to casually stroll toward the main doorway, as if I visit all the time. The outer doors were open but the inner door was shut. Once I was inside the small entrance area, I was out of view from the road. Then I could peer through the small window in the door.

  Keeping low, I crept up to the door and eased toward the window. Standing just inside were the usual suspects from before: Andrew, Mike, and Mark. However, Mike (or maybe Mark) was bent over, trying to catch his breath.

  “Well?” asked Andrew. “Don’t keep us in suspense. But if you’re going to hurl, do it outside.”

  The out-of-breath twin gave a dismissive wave. Then he stood straighter. “Their rockets were fine,” he reported between breaths. “They went off without a hitch.”

  “What?!” Andrew asked. “I was assured those rockets would be out of control, flying all over the place.” He shook his head. “What’s the point of having someone on the inside if they’re not going to do their job?”

  I caught my breath. Andrew had someone on the inside? Inside Swift Academy? Could he really do that? Have one of our own students work against us?

  “And why are you huffing and puffing, anyway?” Andrew asked.

  “Tom spotted me and chased me,” the twin replied.

  The three of them turned their heads toward the door, and I ducked. I closed my eyes and held my breath.

  “Did he follow you back here?” asked Andrew. I heard footsteps growing louder.

  “Naw, I lost him,” Mike or Mark replied.

  I didn’t have enough time to run out of the entryway. Instead, I made the bonehead move of crouching down and picking up one of the large empty boxes beside the door. I pulled it over my body and plopped to the floor, sitting cross-legged.

  Noah and I used to play a video game where the main character would sometimes hide under a box the same way. We made fun of it because it seemed so ridiculous. If you’re guarding a high-security military complex, then of course there’s nothing suspicious about a cardboard box sitting in the middle of a hallway.

  I was already kicking myself. My subconscious must’ve remembered that game—why else would I choose such a dumb hiding spot? Let me put it this way: My supersecret camouflage was so bad that when Andrew opened the door, he actually kicked the side of the box with his foot.

  “I thought you were going to get rid of these,” he told one of the twins.

  I grimaced as the box began to rise off the floor.

  “Not now, you moron,” Andrew said. “I want to go see what Swift is up to. Show me where they are.”

  The box dropped back to the ground and I was in darkness once more. Three sets of footsteps moved away from me.

  I couldn’t believe that actually worked. Wait until I told Noah.…

  CLANK! CLANK!

  I heard the main doors slam shut. You remember those, right? They’re the doors that can only be opened from the outside.

  11 The Artificial Expedition

 

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