The Villain Virus

And then the fever was gone and his head cleared. What was he doing? He couldn’t treat normal kids like this. Where had all this anger come from, and why could he hardly control himself? He gently set the boy back down on the floor.

“Are you OK?” he asked the confused bully.

The boy couldn’t seem to speak, but Flinch didn’t think he was injured.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” a voice said from behind him.

Flinch turned and saw Ms. Dove standing there. She still wore her fixed-on smile, but her eyes were those of someone who finds her new puppy has chewed on her shoes.

“And what just happened here?” she asked.

“Just a little horsing around,” Flinch said.

“Jessie, get your friends and meet us in room eleven,” she said, then she led Flinch down the hall by the arm.

“I truly hate to do this, Mr. Escala. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t even have this room, but it does seem to help with those little birds who need time to think about how to straighten up and fly right.”

She stopped at room eleven and opened the door. A collection of juvenile delinquents and criminals to rival the inmates of Alcatraz looked up at Flinch.

“What’s this?” Flinch asked.

“Detention,” Ms. Dove said, with an exaggerated frown. “We can’t have a bully in our nest, Mr. Escala.”

A bully! Flinch could hardly believe his ears. He wasn’t a bully. He was the opposite of a bully. He was an anti-bully.

“Have a seat,” she continued.

He found one and collapsed into it, feeling foolish and humiliated. He gazed around at the other children looking for some sympathy and found none. When he looked back to the door, he saw Ms. Dove watching him from the hallway, her big owl eyes round and full of suspicion. She would be watching him now. Flinch was under her wing.

Heathcliff’s head was kept in a large two-story holding cell that was encircled by a catwalk on the second floor that was used by the doctors and scientists for observation. It was a bustling room filled with busy people who checked Heathcliff’s heart rate, breathing, and sedative levels around the clock. Armed guards were on alert twenty-four hours a day.

But it was not enough. Not for Agent Brand. If Heathcliff woke up, a bunch of guards were not going to be able to stop him—not much of anything would stop him. So, Alexander often found himself wandering away from his desk to check in on Heathcliff and make sure that the end of the world was not accidentally in progress, as he was now.

He did not enjoy being a babysitter for a monster. When General Savage asked him to run NERDS, he thought he’d be commanding a team of superspies to defend the world. He had no idea that the biggest threat the world had ever seen, a mind that could reshape reality as it wished, would be sleeping in his basement.

Ms. Holiday came through a door at the far end of the catwalk and approached him. He knew she had been busy all day, sorting through books in the school’s neglected library. She was a secret agent, but she was also a librarian, and, just like Brand, she had to keep up her cover. Brand had received a few e-mails from her with the subject line “The Library That Time Forgot” and photo attachments of books like Will Man Ever Walk on the Moon? and Rotary Phones: The World of Modern Communication. He enjoyed her sense of humor, and how she approached things with a smile. Her good attitude was rubbing off on him. He was starting to relax around her and at work. She said she was smoothing out his rough edges.

“How is Paris?” he asked.

“Angry,” she replied. “Every last person. Savage is arranging to have all the damage repaired, and luckily there were no serious injuries. Did you read the report?”

“Yes. Flinch wasn’t ready,” Brand said.

“Probably because we don’t give him any responsibility,” she said. “To be honest, I think he did pretty well, considering he’s never been on point. I’d hate for anyone to read what happened on my first mission.”

“I think fighting three mafia enforcers on an alligator farm was pretty brave,” he said.

She frowned. “You read my file.”

“Are you OK? You look tired.”

“I had a little cold, but I’m getting over it,” she said. “How is Sleeping Beauty?”

Brand nodded. “The same—for now. What are we going to do when he wakes up? The sedatives won’t keep him down forever. Eventually, his body will adapt, and nothing we can do will keep him unconscious.”

For a long time Ms. Holiday didn’t reply. It was obvious she didn’t have an answer. “I worked with him for a while,” she said finally, “and he wasn’t always out of control.”

“I remember,” Brand said.

“I’m talking about before you arrived. Yes, he was cranky and arrogant, but he could be kind of sweet, too. He was very close with his parents,” Ms. Holiday said. “His mother described him as a very loving and sensitive boy.”

“He changed,” Brand said.

“True, but—”

“You see something else?”

“You’ll think I’m silly.”

“I never do,” he replied.

Ms. Holiday smiled. “Well, he snores.”

“Huh?”

“Heathcliff snores—a lot. It sounds like a hundred cows with sleep apnea. The staff has taken to wearing special headsets to protect their hearing.”

“So?” Brand wasn’t sure what she was saying.

“It means he hasn’t changed so much. It means despite it all, he’s still human. He still does something embarrassing. And if he snores just like everyone else, well, maybe there’s a soft spot in his heart just like in everyone else’s, too,” Ms. Holiday said.

It was a crazy theory, but Brand wanted it to be true.

“So … Captain Kapow is ready for questioning,” she said.

Brand nodded. “Good. I’d like to take my mind off of one maniac and put it on another. Lead the way.”

He followed Holiday through the doorway and down several halls until they came to the door marked Interrogation Room. Above the door was a flashing red lightbulb, which meant the room was occupied.

“Is he restrained?” Brand asked.

“Yes, finally. I’m not sure he’s ready to talk, though. He’s been rambling most of the day. I think he’s sick. He’s feverish and disoriented. I’ve had one of the scientists take a look at him, but she hasn’t given me a report yet.”

“Pufferfish can help. She’s allergic to sick people,” Brand said. “And she’s allergic to hundreds of different bacteria and viruses, so she might be able to narrow it down. See if you can get her here.”

“The kids are already home for the day,” Ms. Holiday said.

“The first day is over already?” Brand asked.

“Yes, but not without problems. It’s the principal.”

“One crisis at a time,” Brand said with a groan.

Ms. Holiday opened the door to the interrogation room. Captain Kapow sat inside. His wrists and feet were strapped to a chair, and the chair was bolted to the floor. As soon as Brand stepped close to him, he found out why. The man growled and tried to lunge at him. Luckily, the restraints kept the Captain under control.

“Has he said anything?” Brand asked.

A small round panel opened in the wall and Benjamin zipped into the room. The orb flittered about and finally hovered in front of the agent’s face. “Plenty, but not a lot that you would describe as rational. What he has said isn’t as interesting as who he is. The Captain’s real name is Sherman Stoop. He’s been working as part of our organization for three years.”

“He works for us?” Brand cried.

Ms. Holiday handed him a stack of papers. “Here’s his file.”

Brand flipped through Stoop’s records. He could hardly believe what he was reading.

“What happened to this man?” he asked, not expecting an answer. “Record this interview, Benjamin.”