The Magic Factory

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

Oliver didn’t want to watch but he couldn’t look away. He had to focus on his visualization. He couldn’t waver. Losing concentration for even a millisecond would have catastrophic consequences.

He held his breath. He tensed every muscle. He focused with every semblance of strength he had available to him. He had to keep the bomb from detonating.

Hitler held his palm over the large red button, hovering there. For a brief second, Oliver wondered whether he’d changed his mind, whether the enormity of his actions had suddenly struck him. But then he realized that Hitler was actually drawing out the moment, toying with it. It was as if he wanted to bathe in the pure power this moment gave him. He was playing God and he was reveling in the ultimate power this weapon gave him.

Oliver could see, clearly and plainly, what Professor Amethyst had been telling him about evil, about the desire for power that consumed people. Oliver resolved in that moment that if he walked away from this alive he would never, ever allow himself to become corrupted by his Seer powers. He would not become Lucas. Despite the cobalt within him, he would fight the lure of the dark side for the rest of his days.

And he would not fail now. He held his breath and fixed the image in his mind.

Hitler flexed his fingers over the button. Around him, his soldiers’ eyes were wide with adrenaline, with anticipation. Then, in one sudden, violent motion, Hitler slammed his palm down onto the button.

The whole world seemed to pause. Time stood still. Oliver felt a horrible tug in his mind, a headache like lightning bolts striking his brain. The atoms of the bomb were fighting against his reality, pummeling against his mind like the fists of a bully. The command of his mind was in direct opposition to the command of the button Hitler had pushed, to the laws of physics that the design of the bomb relied on. The strain was like nothing Oliver had ever felt.

But he took the blows, over and over as Hitler slammed his palm against the button again and again, his face growing redder with each futile attempt to detonate it.

Oliver could feel his powers draining from each blow. It was sapping his strength. He didn’t know if he could hold on any longer. But Hitler was still trying to detonate the bomb, his palm now turned into a fist that he pummeled against the button.

Oliver felt the last semblance of power ebb from him. He couldn’t hold on any longer. But just at that moment, Hitler stepped back.

He’d given up!

He turned to the sky and roared his anger.

Oliver released the chains in his mind. With a surge of relief, he let his tension go, exhaling the breath he’d been holding, relaxing the muscles he’d been straining. For the first time, he became aware of the pain in his jaw from his clenched teeth, and the sweat pouring down his face and back. His whole body felt weak, like he’d accidentally transformed himself into jelly.

There was nothing left in him. No powers. They’d been drained entirely. Oliver staggered, barely able to remain upright. He clutched the trash cans before him to steady himself. He’d prevented the bomb from blowing, for now, but with his powers so severely weakened there’d be no chance of him holding its atoms again. If Hitler turned back and pressed the button one more time, there’d be nothing Oliver could do to stop it.

He watched on, tense, willing Hitler to walk away. Suddenly, the man turned back. Oliver’s heart leapt. Hitler eyed the red button. Oliver prayed he would not press it one last time. He felt every muscle in his body clench as Hitler took a slow step closer to the bomb. Then another.

Finally, Hitler stopped. He stood right beside the bomb, by the big red detonator button. Then he turned to his soldiers, barked an order in German, and strode away.

He’d given up.

Reality began to sink in. Oliver had really done it. He’d stopped Lucas’s evil plan from coming to fruition. He felt his heart soar.

But the danger was not over yet. Oliver may have saved the world, but now he had to save himself. He was a sitting duck here. It would only be a matter of moments before he was found. He had to get away.

Hitler’s soldiers were talking in hurried German to one another. They seemed very panicked and very confused as they watched their furious leader growing more incensed. He looked like a man on the brink of insanity, spittle flying from his lips as he screamed commands at them.

There was one word Oliver could understand.

“Sabotage!”

The soldiers ran in all directions, searching their locale, seeking out hiding spots. Then someone pointed at the truck in which Oliver was hiding.

Panicking, Oliver cowered back, a lump forming in his throat. He had to do something.

He quickly retreated into his mind, attempting to summon his powers. But all he felt was a fizz. He couldn’t access them at all. They’d run dry.

Without his powers, there was only other option. He had to run.

He leapt up from his hiding space and barreled forward. But it was useless. His legs could barely hold him upright. He fell, sprawling against the hard asphalt.

The soldiers spotted him immediately. Within seconds he was surrounded. Terrifying faces looked down at him, glaring their hatred. Amongst them was the face Oliver feared the most. Hitler.

He looked down on Oliver with an expression of contempt like none he had ever felt before. Not from Edmund. Or Chris. Not even from Lucas. They were nothing compared to the look of pure hatred in Hitler’s eyes. It was as if Hitler knew he was to blame.

Then Hitler muttered a word that confirmed Oliver’s suspicions.

“Seer.”

Hitler knew. And, Oliver realized with a shudder, he’d had worked out that he was the one who’d foiled him.

Hitler barked something in German at Oliver. Oliver didn’t understand his words but the coldness in his tone was unmistakable. Hitler had just ordered his death.

This was it for him, Oliver knew. He would be killed. His life was over. His only solace was that he’d saved the world. His sacrifice was worth that. Now he would die a noble death. He braced himself for the inevitable, for the blow that would extinguish his life.

It did not come.

Suddenly, from above, the roaring sound of an airplane’s engine ripped across the sky. Hitler tore his eyes from Oliver and looked up, just as the soldiers around him were doing. His expression was wild, deranged.

Oliver scanned the darkened sky, searching for the source of the enormous noise. He was expecting to see German planes approaching but instead he saw something else entirely.

Cutting through the gray sky was a very small plane unlike anything Oliver had ever seen before. It moved faster than any plane he knew of, gliding effortlessly through the sky. It was a strange metallic white color, and the translucent window at the front looked like it was made from a film of plastic, like it was some kind of high-tech shield. The technology of the plane could only come from the future, Oliver suddenly realized.

Oliver’s first dreadful thought was of Lucas. Had the old man designed some kind of aircraft and come back to this point to rewrite the history Oliver had already changed? To put everything back to how he wanted it to be?

But no, Oliver realized. The plane did not belong to a foe, but a friend. Because there, on the tail, was a design that Oliver was very familiar with: a hoop with three evenly spaced eyes. The symbol of the School for Seers. Seeing it here, in 1940s Germany, amongst the swastikas, seemed incredibly incongruous. It was almost as if he’d conjured it with his mind.

Then Oliver saw something that shocked him to the core. As he looked through the strange cockpit window he discovered that the plane was being flown by none other than Professor Amethyst!

Hitler screamed something in German. Instantly, Oliver heard the sound of soldiers’ boots. He turned his gaze from the sky to the commotion ahead of him, watching on with terror as the soldiers ran for their weapons. They got into a huddled formation, pointing their guns at the sky, and began to fire at the plane.

“NO!” Oliver screamed.

The noise was like nothing else. A thousand cracks, each one like a splinter through his eardrums. The gunfire was so loud he could feel it in his bones. There was nothing Oliver could do but cower and pray he wasn’t hit in the crossfire. Pray that Professor Amethyst’s plane withstood the bullets. Pray that he would make it out of this alive.

“OLIVER!” he suddenly heard a voice cry.

He looked sharply over his shoulder. His brain could not accept what he was seeing. It was too incongruous. It must be a mirage. But no, she was real. There, standing in the shadows, was Esther.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

Everything happened at once. Oliver watched as Walter, Hazel, Simon, and Ralph emerged out of the shadows. They stood in an arrow formation behind Esther.

Oliver had no time to consider how they here or how had they had found him. The only thing his brain could comprehend was that he was still alive when a second earlier his death had seemed like a certainty.

Still sprawled on the floor, his body useless and his powers absent, Oliver felt a surge of gratitude and relief as his friends advanced on the soldiers. He had saved the world, now they would save him.

While the soldiers were all distracted by Professor Amethyst’s plane, Ralph summoned his powers, directing them upward, and pulled thick, dark clouds across the sky. They rolled in like black waves, suffocating the light. A blinding darkness descended. The sound of gunfire immediately ceased. Without a clear visual on their target, the soldiers had nothing to aim for.

Simon, meanwhile, pulled raindrops from Ralph’s clouds. They thundered down in a torrent, instantly soaking Oliver and the rest of the soldiers to the bone.

The group of soldiers around him began to disperse. Oliver caught sight of Hitler running away, abandoning his army just like the coward the history books would reveal him to be. He must have figured out what was happening, that his plans were being thwarted by Seers, the power of which no mortal was a match. But his soldiers didn’t know. He’d abandoned them, leaving them to mop up the mess he’d made.

Finally, Oliver had a chance to escape. Still shocked that he was alive, he pulled himself to his knees. He tried to push to standing but his legs felt almost useless beneath him. He was completely drained of any strength.

Suddenly, someone was beside him. In the gloom of Ralph’s cloud, he could just make out the twinkle of emerald green eyes.

“Esther,” he stammered.

She looped her arm around him, heaving him to standing. Supporting the whole weight of him, Esther dragged Oliver across the courtyard, pulling him back to the shelter of a porchway. He collapsed against the step.

Esther went to turn back into the fray. But Oliver grasped out for her, getting hold of her hand and clasping it tightly.

“How are you here?” he asked.

“No time to explain,” Esther told him. “Just stay safe and wait for instructions.”

“Hitler…” Oliver stammered. “He got away.”

“There’s no time,” Esther told him.

Her hand slid from his and she swirled off into the darkness.

Quickly, Esther projected a shield around them all, just as she’d done to keep them safe from the bats. Sheltering in the doorway, Oliver watched on as Hazel took her turn to push her powers into the sky. Her specialism was chemical, and Oliver realized she was altering the composition of the water in the clouds, turning them a hazy, burned orange color. Fresh raindrops fell from the sky. As they hit the soldiers, the men began to yell in pain. Whatever Hazel had contaminated the clouds with, it stung their skin. Esther’s shield kept them safe from harm.

Between Ralph, Hazel, Simon, and Esther, they’d completely handicapped their enemies.

But the bomb still needed to be destroyed. They needed to buy some time, with one last distraction to keep the enemies at bay long enough for Oliver to do his part.

Walter hurried forward and summoned his magnetic powers. Suddenly, all the vehicles in the lot became attracted to one another. The sound of creaking metal surrounded them as their wheels tried to turn, to succumb to the forces Walter’s power was imposing upon them.

Suddenly, the magnetism won out. Their brakes could hold them no longer. They zoomed toward each other, gaining speed, until they reached the center and crashed head on into one another. There was an explosion of heat and light. It was so strong the ground shook. Fireballs flew up into the air. The whole thing was ablaze. Walter had created an impenetrable barrier of fire between them and their enemies.

With the flames illuminating the scene, Oliver looked over as his friends hurried toward him. He’d never been more pleased to see anyone in his life.

He had next to no strength in him, but croaked out, “Whoever said magnetism was the worst specialism?”

Walter grinned, then turned back to look at the scene of devastation. Oliver did the same. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. The power of Seers against mortals was undeniable.

“We have to destroy the bomb,” Ralph said.

Oliver shook his head. “It has to be defused first. Any wrong move and it will blow.”

“Can you do it?” Simon asked. “Defuse it?”

“I tried,” Oliver told him. “But my powers have failed. I’ve drained them completely.”

Esther bent down and gazed into his eyes. “Not with your powers. With your knowledge.”

“She’s right,” Hazel said. “If Lucas made the bomb using what he’d learned from Armando, then you’re the only other person in the world who’ll be able to dismantle it.”

Though he’d already spent hours in the plane trying and failing to work out how to do so, Oliver knew his friends were right.

He nodded with determination. Walter and Simon heaved him to his feet. Oliver gritted his teeth against the pain. Together, they helped him across the courtyard to where the bomb still stood, the rest of his friends following. Fire from the burning trucks stung their skin. The smoke was black and acrid.

Oliver grabbed the bomb’s design from his overall pockets.

“Esther, first, can you get through the shield?” he asked. “There’s one built around it that’s making it hard to access the wires.”

She nodded and unfocused her eyes. The shimmering shield around the bomb disappeared.

Oliver studied the diagrams. His whole body trembled with fatigue. But without the shimmering shield, he could see more clearly what he had to do. Through Lucas’s complex network of wires and trick wires, booby traps and dead ends, he saw how the puzzle fit together.

“The red wire,” he stammered. “It’s the red wire.”

“Are you sure?” Ralph asked. His teeth were practically clenched.

“I’m sure,” Oliver said.

He went to lean forward, but felt Hazel’s hand on his wrist. “You’re shaking,” she said. “Let me. I have a smaller, steadier hand.”

Everyone held their breath as Hazel reached forward. Her nimble fingers gently bypassed the complex bundle of multicolored wire, delicately taking hold of the red one Oliver had indicated.

“Okay,” she said, as her fingers squeezed on the wire. “Now or never.”

Simon closed his eyes. Ralph looked away. The tension radiating from Walter was palpable. Esther was starting to shake from the effort of holding the shield back. Oliver squeezed his hands into fists. If he’d calculated wrong they would all die.

Hazel tugged. The wire snapped. The bomb did not blow.

“You did it!” Walter cried.

The boys turned to Oliver, slapping him on the back, cheering. Esther flopped forward, drained from holding back the shield. Hazel seemed paralyzed in her crouched position, holding up the snapped red wire.

“We have to destroy it,” Oliver said. “All of it. Quick.”

They got to work, ripping apart the plates of metal, pulling out the wires, throwing everything onto the bonfire.

Ralph pointed to the sky. “There’s Professor Amethyst’s plane coming back to collect us. Let’s go!”

They all looked up as the headmaster’s strange plane swooped down. It behaved like something between a helicopter and an eagle. It touched down, not with wheels, but with feet shaped like talons.

His friends started hurrying toward it.

But Oliver knew there was one more thing he had to do. In order to fully destroy the bomb and make sure it could never be made again, he had to destroy the plans.

He pulled the dossier from his overall pocket and threw it into the inferno. He watched the plans burn. As it was incinerated, he felt a swell of relief.

Satisfied that it would never be made again, Oliver turned and hurried across the courtyard, in the direction of the headmaster’s plane. Hazel and Simon were already inside and Esther stood by the door, gesturing for them to hurry up and get inside.

Walter leapt into the plane. Ralph shoved Oliver and he flew into the open hatch too. A second after, Ralph leapt in behind him.

The plane’s engines whirred and within a matter of seconds, they took to the sky. Hazel grappled with the door. She heaved it shut, but not before Oliver looked out at the scene of chaos left in their wake.

The place was destroyed, drenched in water and rust-colored puddles. The raging fire at the center concealed twisted metal from all the trucks that had exploded and the pieces of bomb. Soldiers lay dotted around, incapacitated. It was a satisfying sight.

Oliver looked over at his friends, drinking in the sight of each of their faces; Hazel’s sincere gray eyes, Ralph’s friendly dimples, Walter’s cheeky grin, Simon’s pale, wide-set eyes, and finally Esther’s coy blush. His heart soared.

“We did it,” he stammered to them all.

Despite their fatigue, they all cheered.

Suddenly, Oliver realized it was time to tell his friends the truth about his test results. He’d avoided it because he had not wanted his friends to treat him differently because of it. But after what they’d all just gone through together, he knew it was time to tell the truth.

“I need to tell you something,” Oliver said. “About who I am. What I am. My test. I’m atomic. But my type is mixed. I’m bromine and cobalt.”

They all looked at each other, stunned.

“No way,” Esther murmured, sounding both surprised and impressed. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“What a turn up for the books,” Simon exclaimed.

“I’m sorry I hid it from you all. I just wanted to fit in. I was scared you wouldn’t accept me.”

Oliver felt a gentle hand press into the top of his arm. He looked over and saw Esther looking kindly at him.

“Of course we accept you,” she said.

Then everyone leaned in, patting and hugging Oliver. He smiled, grateful to be accepted for who he was.

Suddenly, Oliver became aware of the feeling of a leaden weight in his whole body. He felt empty, like a shell of a person. He’d used up so much of his powers, a tiredness like none he’d ever felt before overcame him.

As the plane soared through the sky, Oliver felt overcome with exhaustion. His friends were talking happily and enthusiastically, going over the events in Germany, but Oliver was too tired to even focus on their voices. He was too tired to even hear their congratulatory words and their affirmations that he’d saved the world.

His eyelids felt so heavy. He tried to fight it, but they started to flutter closed. He couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. All he could do was flop down in the back of the cabin, spent, overcome with exhaustion, and let blackness envelop him. He fell into a deep, deep sleep.

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

Two familiar faces looked down at Oliver.

“I think he’s conscious,” the man said.

“You’re right,” the woman replied, kindly. “Oliver, can you hear us?”

Oliver sat bolt upright, looking from one face to the other. They were the man and woman of his visions. He wasn’t in the airplane anymore, but in some dark, empty space like the abyss of Professor Amethyst’s dimension. All that existed in the vast blackness were the three of them.

“Where am I?” Oliver asked. “Where are my friends? Where’s the headmaster’s airplane?” His voice sounded strange, blunted, as though the sound waves were traveling differently than normal.

“You’re somewhere between asleep and awake,” the man said. “You’re still in the plane. Your friends are still with you.”

Oliver felt relieved.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“We came to congratulate you,” the woman said. “For saving mankind.”

Oliver recalled the vision he’d had where the man and woman had told him he had a task to save mankind. For some reason, these two strangers cared deeply about his success. But he had no idea why. They’d never given him satisfactory answers, had never explained themselves.

“Who are you?” he asked. “My guardian angels or something? Why are you always watching me? Why do you keep appearing in my dreams?”

The man and woman exchanged a glance.

“I think you know who we are,” the woman said softly.

“I do?” Oliver asked.

The man nodded. His smile was so kind. “Yes. You do. You just need to accept it.”

Oliver’s throat felt thick. His hand went to his blond hair. Its color matched the woman’s perfectly. And his eyes were the same brown as the man’s, completely unlike his family’s matching blue eyes. Nothing had ever felt right in his life. His family had never felt like his own. Could it really be that the Blues weren’t his parents? That Chris was not his brother? Would he sound crazy to suggest that these people were his parents?

His voice wavered as he spoke, hitching with hope. “Are you my parents?”

Immediately, the couple burst into grins. They took hold of one another’s hands.

“That’s right,” the woman confirmed. “We’re your mom and dad.”

Mom. Dad. He repeated the words in his head as if they were some new, alien concepts.

“But I don’t understand,” he said. “I have a mom and dad. How can you be my parents?”

The man’s expression faltered, then dropped. He looked sadly at the woman, then back to Oliver.

“We lost you,” he said, his voice strained. “It’s very complicated.”

Oliver’s mind began reeling. It was too much to comprehend. But a sense of understanding overcame him, like all the pieces were fitting into place. Of course he wasn’t a Blue. He didn’t even look like them. They shared no similarities or interests. He’d always been the black sheep of the family and this would explain why.

These people, the man and woman of his visions, were his real parents. His mom and dad. Saying it in his head didn’t feel strange, he realized. It felt right.

Just then, the image of his real parents started to fade.

“Where are you going?” Oliver asked.

“You’re waking up,” his mom said, gently.

“But where are you?” Oliver asked, exasperated. “Why do I only see you when I’m dreaming? Where can I find you in the real world?”