Read Online Project X-Calibur by Greg Pace - Free Book Online Page B

doors slid open, startling me, revealing the hallway we had been in earlier. The ceiling lights were dark, the hallway shrouded in shadow.
    As I walked to the mouth of the hall, the light nearest me suddenly started pulsing, beckoning me. I took a cautious step, and another light above me lit up, as if
guiding
me somewhere. I swallowed and looked back over my shoulder.
    Just like that, I was suddenly outside, back in Texas, watching Denny’s diner from the parking lot. It was a gorgeous day—clear sky, gentle breeze—and the diner was bursting at the seams, probably a Saturday afternoon. I could see guys from school in there—laughing, smiling, eating burgers and ice cream. Todd Byers, The Dorf, everyone.
    And Mom, too. She was in her waitress uniform, bustling from table to table. My eyes widened when I saw her give a slice of apple pie to . . . Dad. He was seated with a bunch of the guys from the firehouse, all of them in their bulky gear and covered in soot. Mom and Dad glanced at the window and saw me. They gave a little wave, but just as I lifted my hand to wave back, the sky over the diner opened up in a flash of blinding white light. I shielded my eyes.
    Then the diner exploded in a mass of flames and debris.
    I woke up with a jolt, my chest heaving. I looked to the countdown clock on the wall, then the one on my wrist. I had only been asleep for
two minutes.
    I gulped; it was going to be a long night.

12
    121:02:57
    I AWOKE TO THE SOUND of someone knocking.
    â€œWho is it?” Malcolm called out from the floor. I looked over the side of my bed. He was already awake, back to his push-ups. I groaned.
You’ve gotta be kidding me.
    â€œI’ve got uniforms for you, knights. And breakfast,” came a voice from the hall.
    Malcolm got to the door first (shocker, I know) and whipped it open to reveal a bespectacled, disheveled young tech. He had a large metal cart with four sets of clothing boxes sitting on top. Malcolm immediately grabbed a stack. I spotted my name on another one and did the same.
    â€œThere are pajamas and everyday wear, padded sparring outfits if you choose to work out in the gym, and flight training jumpsuits,” the tech explained. “All custom fitted to your exam measurements.”
    So we
were
going to be flying something—but what? I prayed that Kwan wasn’t right about us being stuffed into missiles.
    Malcolm had finished changing into his training gear before the rest of us had even opened our boxes. The jumpsuit was impressive—gray with a silver shimmer, as if there was steel woven into the fabric, with a patch on the upper left: the bold letters “RTR” embossed in the middle of a solid black X.
    Malcolm stood even taller in his new uniform. He turned to his nightstand and grabbed something from his top drawer. I couldn’t see exactly what was clasped in his hand, but it looked like a tattered ribbon.
    â€œWhen are we going to fly?” Malcolm asked the young tech as he rushed back to the doorway.
    â€œI’m . . . not entirely sure,” the tech stammered. “My orders were to bring you the uniforms and breakfast, that’s all.”
    He opened two steel doors on the side of the cart. We were immediately hit by the smells of warm breakfast. My stomach went into a growling fit.
    â€œNormally everyone eats breakfast in the cafeteria, but the schedule today will be too tight for that—” the tech began.
    â€œThe schedule you apparently know nothing about,” Malcolm cut him off.
    â€œDude, chill,” I murmured to Malcolm, and he turned to look at me.
    â€œWhen the whole world is watching in five days,
you
can ‘chill,’ all right?” he snapped.
    I kept quiet after that. The ribbon he’d grabbed from his nightstand had wound him up, big time. He was gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white.
    â€œWhat’ve you got in there?” Tyler asked the tech,