The Tree of Knowledge by Daniel Miller (room on the broom read aloud .txt) 📕

Puddles was not alone. Walking in lockstep behind him was Ying. The shield and Albert’s tall frame easily shielded her short, small body, and by walking backward, she was able to protect their rear flank.

Brick and Salazar gave each other knowing glances and sprinted out from their walled defense in separate directions. Brick ran along Albert’s left side, and Salazar jogged along to his right. Ying pivoted to her left and fired a round at Sergeant Travis, but he dove behind a hay bale, avoiding her errant shots.

As Albert looked to his right and left, he knew that they had once again been checkmated. “This isn’t going to go well.”

Brick raised his gun and aimed at Ying. Albert turned to protect her. He saw the pellets from Brick’s gun spraying against the glass shield, but at the same time could hear Ying’s squeals as she was peppered with fire from Salazar on the opposite side of the range. Seconds later, the pellets began splattering against his back.

Again, the two stumbled back to their hay wall. And again, they were greeted by a disappointed look from Turner.

“Two minutes and then we do it again.”

This time, Albert and Ying ran over to the hay bale on which they had begun the logic map. In silence, they diagrammed together, calculating each move and each reaction.

While the two partners scribbled on the paper, Turner looked at his watch. He watched the second hand tick away and wondered if he had made a mistake. Should we have just gone to the police? Maybe Fix won’t be able to crack the book’s code. Can these two truly understand the Tree? Albert is a genius but fails to understand people. Ying is equally smart and understands people, but does she have the experience to handle the hundreds of logical calculations needed? Can they deal with the responsibility? The professor turned to tell Ying and Albert that their time was up but found the area empty.

“Ready, Professor,” shouted Ying. The two teammates crouched behind the hay bale like sprinters waiting to explode from the blocks.

Turner raised his eyebrows, curled his lips, and walked toward the middle of the shooting range. “Let the games begin.”

In training soldiers in this game with Brick and his team, Turner had seen several interesting and at times brilliant tactical maneuvers, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next.

Instead of climbing over the hay wall, Ying and Albert tipped it over, each of them rolling a hay bale out in front of their bodies. Ying carried the shield while Albert carried the shotgun. It was clear that Albert had shot a gun before as he calmly strafed Brick and Salazar’s hay wall with paint pellets.

Before, they had moved slowly, in a straight line. This time, Ying and Albert wove in and out in a fast, unpredictable diagonal pattern, all the while rolling hay bales in front of them. The combination of Ying’s small size, the shield, the unpredictable pattern, the steady roll of hay bales, and Albert’s shotgun fire made it nearly impossible for Brick or Salazar to find a target. Their hesitation gave both Albert and Ying enough time to run three-quarters of the way across the field untouched.

Sensing he had been outmaneuvered, Brick took over. “Raphael, you stay here. Puddles doesn’t have a shield other than that hay bale, so I’ll take him out first. You stall the girl, and then after I get Puddles, we’ll gang up on her.”

As Brick emerged from the hay bale to come after the supposedly shieldless Puddles, Albert and Ying began running again and calmly threw each other their weapons. Ying caught the shotgun and quickly fired at the now totally exposed Salazar while Albert grabbed the shield and sprinted toward the goal line. The stunned Sergeant Travis fired at his feet, hoping to slip under the shield, but it was too late. Like a wide receiver running into the end zone, Albert gleefully leapt over the hay wall and screamed, “Wooooohoooooo!”

All Travis and Salazar could do was stand and watch, hands on hips and guns at their sides, while Ying Koh jumped over the wall and the two of them danced in celebration.

Turner sidled up to the two vanquished combatants. “I don’t think anyone’s ever beaten you two that fast. Are you a believer yet?”

Brick bristled. “That was beginner’s luck, Professor. We’ll see how they do in hand-to-hand combat.”

“Yes, we will,” said Turner with a wry smile and a twirl of his walking stick as he strolled toward the victors. “We will indeed.”

Chapter 14

Cristina Culebra stood quietly behind the curtain of Stanford’s Memorial Auditorium. Neither she nor any prominent surrogates from her campaign had intended on visiting Stanford during the tail end of her swing through the state, but over ten thousand students—almost two-thirds of the student body—had signed a petition requesting a visit from the future governor of California. Standing in the wings of the auditorium stage with Eric Crabtree, her newly rededicated speechwriter, Cristina Culebra could see that she had made the right choice. She licked her lips like a vampire at the sight of blood. The multilevel auditorium shimmered with red T-shirts and flags. Every one of the appropriately colored red seats held the body of an enthusiastic Culebra supporter. As the head of Stanford University’s RED Party came to the conclusion of his introduction, the crowd’s energy crashed against the walls of the circular room.

Cristina’s security personnel had warned her not to attend the event. While most of the student body clearly supported the candidate, the campaign had received death threats from certain campus radicals who had called her “tyrant” and “Queen Cristina.” But in typical fashion, Cristina saw this rabid opposition as an opportunity rather than a threat, for she knew what events would transpire on this day.

I know you’re here . . . and I can’t wait, she thought.

The candidate entered the stage and waved to the crowd, which rose in near-unanimous approbation.