Trapped!: The 2031 Journal of Otis Fitzmorgan by Bill Doyle Page A

AM
    I awoke this morning with a start. There wasn't time for sleep! We had to hunt down the bad guy!
    It took me a second to realize where I was. The sharp kink in my neck helped remind me. I was in my parents' room. I had slept
     in the chair between their beds again.
    My eyes instantly went to them. Their IV packs were dripping away. They were breathing steadily, but their pulse rate was
     still really high.
    Teddy clicked and whirled, looking up at me with concern.
    “It's okay. Teddy,” I told him, but I don't think sounded very convincing. Teddy's eyes didn't change, and he kept watching
     me.
    I told him to watch over Mom and Dad and headed out the door. Judge had sent me to bed last night, telling me not to worry,
     she would stay with Asyla. The first item on today's agenda was to check in on them.
    At the door of the Common Room, I heard the sound of voices.
    “Don't you just love this?” It was Asyla speaking. She was standing in front of the window, and I saw that she wasn't admiring
     the view. Instead, she was gazing at her own reflection.
    When I entered, I was once again struck by how small Judge looked standing next to Asyla. I hoped we had made the right decision
     in bringing her back.
    Judge rolled her eyes toward Asyla when she saw me. “It seems some things never change. Can we get to work now, Asyla?”
    Asyla touched her hair, as if savoring the feel of it. “Oh, I'm not here to work, little girl” She stressed the word little.
     “That would mean I'd have to be paid.”
    “Money isn't such an issue anymore,” I told her.
    She didn't turn away from her reflection. “There's always something to be paid.”
    I thought about the sacrifice Judge had made to bring Asyla back. “How about life?” I asked. “Is that enough of a payment?”
    “What are you saying? You're going to destroy me unless I answer your questions?” She chuckled. “I don't think so. Not if
     you're like the Fitzmorgans I remember.”
    “Fine, can we just chat? Please?” I forced myself to whine slightly. And it worked. The begging tone in my voice seemed to
     satisfy her.
    “Very well.” She finally turned from her reflection and glided over to a chair. She perched on the edge, as if this arrangement
     could change at any time. “What is it you want to talk about? My old friend Justine has told me all about your situation.
     Quite a pickle you've gotten yourself into. Seems like the rest of us are always cleaning up Fitzmorgan and Moorie. messes.”
    That's not true! I wanted to shout. But instead, I asked, “can you tell us about the statue?”

    ASYLA SEEMED WILLING TO TALK
    “Statue?” her voice remained calm, but she looked interested.
    “That's one thing I didn't tell you about, Asyla,” Judge said.
    Asyla ignored her. “What statue?”
    I looked at Judge and nodded. She said, “It's a work by Maginold Moylan that's gone missing. We think it might be somewhere
     on the Climber.”
    I saw a flash of excitement in Ayla's eyes.
    “Seems there might be something we know about that would interest you,” I said. “Let's strike a deal, Asyla. If you answer
     a few of our questions, we'll answer yours.”
    She waved a hand at me as if sweeping the idea from the air. “Even if there was a statue that once caught my eye, why would
     I tell you about it?”
    Judge replied, “Because all of our problems seem to have started with that statue.”
    “And because your clones are on this Climber,” I added. “And they might die unless we get to the truth.”
    “Yes, darling Justine told me all about my 'relatives' on this Elevator,” Asyla said. “How wonderful to be surrounded by such
     fine company! I'm not worried about them. They must have a plan.”
    I shook my head. “I don't think so. Mrs. Benato is unconscious and infected with the virus. She's growing sicker by the hour.”
    That seemed to reach Asyla. “Describe the statue to me,” she said. Was she going to cooperate? “If you do, I'll tell you