Nikolas and Company: The Merman and The Moon Forgotten Read Online Free PDF Page A

ripped away. The creature’s head jerked back several
times until the case slid down its gullet.
    The oldest artifact in the history of
archaeology now lay in the belly of a monster.
    The membrane fan folded behind the
creature’s head. It looked back at the other two, who were
currently investigating their own career-changing team
members.
    “Schreeg-gah!” it commanded. In some
strange chorus, all the heads lifted northward and in the direction
of the project leader.
    And just like that, they
left.
    The Peruvian rolled over. He watched
the tip of the last creature’s tail disappear into the
jungle.
    Project leader leaves
babbling about his grandson saving some mermaids? Says he needs to
“fetch him” and bring him to his true home? Monsters attack the
site? Attack me? It swallows the oldest artifact on the planet and
my future in archaeology with it? The only way for me to get it
back is to hunt that monster down and gut the artifact from its
stomach? I would have to be a . . . hero?
    The Peruvian knew what to do
next.
    He tapped the inside of his ear drum. A
tinny voice answered.
    “Communication One. How may I connect
you?”
    “Felipe Sánchez, please.”
    “Connecting. . . .”
    “Aló?”
    “Felipe. . . .”
    The Peruvian retired from archaeology
and became a moderately successful producer of leggings and scarves
for toy terriers. And never again did he have to worry about a
crazy old project leader babbling on about some girl named
Huron.

 
     
     
     
     
    Four • Prometheus
10,000
     

     
     
     
    Colorado City,
Colorado
    Same time.
     
     
     
     
     
     
    I’m serious. You were babbling on about
Huron and some Rones. They’re evil or something,” Tim said, trying
to keep pace with Nick up the canyon steps.
    Swish. The shed door automatically opened.
    Nick sighed. “OK, fine. I keep hearing
this, I don’t know, voice. Something about a city—I don’t
know.”
    Tim stopped. “It’s true. You’re insane.
Just took a while to go full blown.”
    Nick stepped through the shed
door.
    Beep, beep.
    Welcome Nick Lyons, the computer recognition system fired up. Just
above the shed door was a cylinder-shaped sensor programmed to
recognize and introduce every person that stepped through the
doorway. Except this particular one added its own flair.
    Nick, the computer recognition system announced. The believer of all things. Once, when Nick was five years
old, he believed with all of his heart that people could fly. More
specifically, he believed Tim could fly. So there he was, twelve
stories high, holding a very scared Tim. That’s when Sonya Lyons
let out a maternal shriek and lunged for Nick.
“In-the-Nick-of-time” became a popular catch phrase in the Lyons’
home.
    “I hate that thing,” Tim groaned. “Turn
it off.”
    “Can’t. Daniel hid the shut off
switch.”
    Nick’s uber intelligent friend, Daniel,
had taken the standard computer introduction systems found in most
suburban houses and demonized it. Somehow he tapped into everyone’s
social utility sites, email accounts and the FBI system to give
what he called a full and honest representation of the
individual.
    “Bet you can turn it down.” Tim leapt
to the workbench and swept his hand around the edges.
    Swish . . . swish. The door slid open.
    Entering Caroline Wendell.
One of the three Wendell sisters hailing from the refugee
camp, continued the computer recognition
system.
    “He-llo,” Caroline greeted them in a
breathy tone. She wore her usual print flower dress and horn-rimmed
glasses, which was steamed up by a ceramic bowl teetering in her
clutches. “I made food for the after party. Mashed
potatoes.”
    People only like Caroline
because she can cook, from scratch, said
the computer introduction system.
    “I wish we could shut that off,
Nikolas,” Caroline said.
    A rare commodity in this
century. And for only a fourteen-year-old, she is a fantastic cook.
Chocolate chip cookies after school, pie on Sundays, and a