by Budgett, Jay
Then I saw a soft white light, eerily similar to the Daisies in Club 49, slipping from behind a door at the hall’s end. Entering the room, I saw a lone bulb lighting stacks of square packages. I grabbed a package, gently peeled back its wrapper, and found a plastic bubble filled with fluid. I held it up to the bulb; inside the bubble was a small, thin, curved piece of plastic with a blue iris printed on it.
I covered my mouth to stop the screams that swelled in my throat. What was this? Who were these people? What were they trying to do?
The floors creaked—someone was in the hall. I slid shut the door and pressed an ear against it. It looked ornate, but its wood was thin, built light to lessen the weight of a fast ship.
“I’m not going to argue with you,” said a voice I recognized as Vern’s. “There’s certainly no denying there’s a chance—but that’s all it is, a chance and nothing more.”
“It’s not a chance,” Phoenix’s voice echoed back, “it’s a window—”
“Well, we’ve got plenty of those around here, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“—of opportunity,” Phoenix finished.
“I think I’m looking for more of a door, really.”
“Could you just listen to me for a second, Vern?”
“I’m listening, and I’ve been listening all night, damn it! I’ve heard about your plan. I know all about the virus. But you know what? I still don’t think it’s going to work. It’s already over, Phoenix. Trust me when I tell you that. There was never going to be a war. That’s a good thing: war fractures the soul.”
“There are some causes worth fighting for—until we are beautifully broken.”
“You’re a fool.”
“Just one more raid, Vern. Just give me—give us, the Lost Boys—another chance. That’s all I’m asking. Just help with one more, and then that’s it. I’m out of your hair forever, gone. All it takes is help with one more raid. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Vern sneered. “Help with one more raid, and that’s all? You and I both know that won’t be enough.”
“You don’t think we can do it?”
“Oh, I think you can do it, all right. You’ll do it and get one of yourselves killed. Like you did with Bugsy.”
“Damn it, Vern. I told you to quit bringing him up. You know we all cared about the kid. We just weren’t ready. They knew we were coming.”
“And they won’t know this time?”
“It won’t matter if they know this time. I’ll be on the ground. This time they won’t have a chance.”
“You’ve got a lot of confidence in yourself.”
“I could say the same thing about you.”
“And the new boy? Dr. Bradbury’s son? A great addition. Far smarter than Bugsy… or is he? Do you plan to bring him with you?” He paused. I guessed Phoenix nodded. “Then you’re a fool. Look what happened to Bugsy, and he had three months to prepare—”
“Bugsy wasn’t right. You and I both know that. Something was wrong with his head… he just wasn’t right.”
“And this kid is?”
“He jumped into the mouth of a megalodon.”
“So he’s crazy, too? Or just a fool? God, you really know how to pick ’em, Phoenix.”
“You know who his mother is. The kid’s not stupid.”
“Well, you’re operating under the assumption he’s anything like her, and I don’t operate under assumptions. I operate under facts. Dr. Bradbury’s research is what could save our cause, not another raid.”
“But the raid won’t hurt. So you’ll help us then?”
“On one condition.”
“Of course there’s one condition.”
“Kill the boy.”
My stomach did somersaults in my chest. It was getting harder to breathe. I could’ve used a Cotton Candy Cocktail.
“I—I can’t do that.”
“You can,” said Vern, “and you will. You’ve done it before, haven’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ah, but I’m afraid you do, my friend. We both know you had a feeling that day on the Tube. There was a reason you stayed back, wasn’t there? Let Bugsy and Mila go ahead without you. You didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire, isn’t that right?”
Phoenix was silent.
“But,” Vern continued, “you had to get the shipment of Indigo, didn’t you, Phoenix? So you let Bugsy go in your place—even though you knew he wasn’t ready. That he’d probably die. But hey, no sweat off your back, if it saves the shipment. I know you too well, boy. You’ll kill for this cause, and not just the Feds. What’s another boy’s life to you? If the Feds get him, he’s dead anyway. If he dies for you, at least it’ll spare him the torture.”
Phoenix was still silent.
“We don’t know where his loyalty lies,” Vern said finally. “We don’t have the resources for another mouth to feed.”
Phoenix wouldn’t do it, would he? He’d already saved my life twice. Why go through the trouble, if he was going to kill me in the end? There had to be a reason he was keeping me alive. He couldn’t just kill me now. He’d told me about his family—no, there was no way he’d do it now. He might even think we were friends.
After a long pause, Phoenix sucked in a breath. “I’ll do it,” he said. “If you help us with the raid, then I’ll kill Kai when we’re done. I promise you he’ll be dead by the end of the mission.”
Chapter 24
I lay awake for hours while Phoenix’s words rang in my ears. He was going to kill me. There’d be no finding Mom, no saving Charlie, not if Phoenix had his way…
There was a deafening bang, and the sharp crack of shattering glass pulled Bertha from her sleep. “Get up, Car Battery!” she shouted, slapping a pillow across my face. “Jesus, get out of bed! We’ve gotta get off this boat and back to New Texas!”
Another bang sounded, and flames flickered on the spiral staircase from the roof above. It sounded like bombs were being dropped on the rooftop gardens. The shattering sounds must be the solar panels, splintering into millions of pieces.
Bertha dragged me along the stairs as flames raged on either side of the boat—both the front and the back were on fire. She pushed open a shop’s door and stuffed her mouth with three pastries from a glass display case, urging me to do the same.
“Umph uh umph uhh umph’ll uh!” she shouted.
“What?” I asked, eyes darting around the room as I searched for an exit.
She tossed me a cinnamon roll and swallowed her pastries. “It might be the last meal you’ll get for a while. Eat up.”
She stuffed her mouth with three more pastries and pointed toward the window before grabbing a chair in the corner and smashing it against the glass. New Texas loomed not far away. We dove headfirst and swam toward the island. Around us, boats lit the sea with their roofs of fire. New Texas was trapped in a circle of flames.
Bertha pulled herself onto the shore. “You wait for the others. I’m firing up the engines.”
“But we’re surrounded.”
“Just wait for it,” she said as she ran toward the fort. “The Caravites just need a minute…”
I scanned the water for other Lost Boys, and saw someone leap from a boat’s fiery roof. Another window was smashed open, and two more shadows dove in. I wondered when Captain Vern would order the Caravan to unfurl and run.
Kindred and Mila swam to the shore, followed by Phoenix. All three hurried past me and ran toward the island’s center.
“Shit,” muttered Mila as she ran past.
“Oh, dear,” Kindred whimpered behind her. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!”
There was a siren, and then the boats shot apart, forgoing their single-line formation and instead launching individually into the night. The Caravan disintegrated in front of my eyes. Its boats’ flaming roofs raced off to distant corners of the ocean, flickering like the stars we’d once had in the sky.
As the Caravan crumbled, I saw flashes of
Federal boats firing bombs in the distance. Somehow they’d found us outside Federal waters, in the middle of the ocean, and it looked as if they’d brought the whole naval fleet. The mammoth ships sat like sleeping giants, stirring only with the occasional cannon’s flicker. The pastry ship where Bertha and I had slept sank in front of me. It was lucky Bertha’s snores had frightened the boat’s usual occupants into other lofts for the night.
Helicopters launched themselves from the decks of the Federal ships and raced toward us as two more shadows dove from the roof of a sinking Caravan ship. Dove and Sparky, I realized. Soon they reached the shore, clawing at the beach’s sand and aluminum cans with spread hands.
Sparky panted, Tim clutching at the side of his face with hooked claws. “Not as easy as it looks,” said Sparky, shaking his head. I pulled Tim off his face, and the sloth paddled his arms and legs in the air.
“What’d you expect?” I asked. “I bet the poor guy can’t swim.”
Sparky shook his head. “Negative. He can swim fine. He just lacks the motivation.”
I shrugged. What’d he expect from a sloth?
Copters buzzed overhead, and a couple of bombs fell on the island, shooting up sand clouds like fireworks. If we were hit too many times, I worried New Texas would dissolve like the Caravan.
Dove smacked Sparky’s butt. “Get in there, already.” Sparky hurried toward the fort.
“Is he the only one that can drive?” I asked.
“Sort of.” Dove shrugged. “I drive the boats, mostly, and Bertha flies the planes. Sparky drives the island.”
“So there’s no one else who can drive this thing?”
“Well, Bertha thinks she can do everything… But trust me, you don’t wanna see her try.”
More bombs fell from overhead, and pieces of the island splintered off into the ocean. Then thunder roared—actual thunder—and it began to rain. The few flaming Caravan boats that remained flickered as the raindrops doused their fires.
The island lurched forward, and I fell to the ground. Dove threw me a hand. The look on his face told me Bertha was driving. Then I heard it: mariachi music roaring over the thunder, trumpets blaring and guitars strumming over loudspeakers. The Federal copters hovered in the air, clearly confused.
“Crap,” muttered Dove. “She snuck out one of those too?” I raised an eyebrow. “She’s been sneaking stuff out all day,” he explained. “Every time we go to the Caravan she takes as many things as she can, and paddles them back to New Texas. Did she make you take some pastries?”
“She tried.”
“Figures.”
The island’s engines groaned as we hurtled past the Federal ships. Waves crashed in our wake as the copters buzzed overhead, no longer stunned by the screaming loudspeakers, and eager to drop more bombs like lightning. Dove pulled me to the fort and up a spiral staircase.
“Control room,” he explained, his chest shaking as he fought to catch his breath.
We found Bertha reclining in a rolling chair, her fingers clacking furiously at a keyboard while she stared intently through a panoramic windshield that circled the room. Holographic widgets cluttered her vision, and Sparky stood beside her, tapping them with worried looks. Phoenix stood in the back, his brow furrowed, and Mila sat hunched in the room’s corner. The group seemed oddly casual, as if it wasn’t a big deal that Feds were circling us with guns and bombs.
Mila glanced up at us as we entered. “Kindred’s making muffins.”
Sparky snapped his head around to face her. “Chocolate chip?” he asked.
“Nah, blueberry.”
Bertha slammed her fists on the keyboard. “Damn it!”
“What’s wrong, Big Bertha?” asked Phoenix, worried.
“We’ve had frickin’ blueberry for the past two weeks, that’s what wrong!”
Sparky echoed her sentiments. “Affirmative.”
Mila rolled her eyes. “Give me a break.”
“And give me some damn chocolate chips,” added Bertha, fingers still clacking against the keyboard.
A widget blinked furiously on the screen as Sparky tapped a hand to the glass.
“What’s wrong?” said Phoenix. He’d yet to acknowledge my existence, and the promise he’d made to Vern still loomed fresh in my mind.
Sparky glanced at the screen nervously. “Uh… low gas.”
“How is that possible?”
“Er… well, you see… the thing is, actually… we were chasing the Caravan for quite a while, you know?”
“You went whale-watching again,” said Phoenix. “Didn’t you? You wasted our gas looking for whales.”
“It was all Kindred’s idea!” said Sparky. “She thought it might be nice to see them. Tim wanted to, too!”
Tim smiled and stuck out his tongue ever so slightly.
“Nice work, Slothy,” said Bertha, shaking her head.
Phoenix yanked her away from the keyboard. “I need you to go into the armory and get us the biggest guns we have. If we can’t outrun the Feds, we’re going to have to shoot them down.”
Bertha hurried down the staircase, and Phoenix pushed Sparky into the now-vacant captain’s seat. “You drive,” he said. “And figure out to how to turn off that damn music.”
“Yeah—of course!”
Phoenix turned to Mila. “Help Bertha with the guns. You too, Dove.” They raced down the stairs. He grabbed my shoulder. “You all right, Kai?”
I shook off his hand. “Peachy.”
“Not peach-y,” he said, smiling, “but blueberry.”
He might’ve had the muscles, but god, he lacked the jokes.
Bertha returned from the armory, breathless. In one hand, she held an assault rifle; in the other, three black orbs. “Bombs,” she explained.
Kindred appeared in the doorway. “Blueberries!” she called. “Blueberry muffins!”
“We don’t need blueberries right now,” said Bertha, shaking the orbs. “We need bombs.”
Kindred pursed her lips. “Oh, dear.” She offered me a muffin and whispered in my ear. “Someone didn’t get all nine hours of her beauty sleep.”
“I’M BEAUTIFUL, DAMN IT!” shouted Bertha.
Kindred hurried from the room, leaving the muffins on the table. Mila and Dove appeared in her place, bullets strapped to their chests. They tossed Phoenix a gun. “Let’s go.”
“You stay here with Sparky,” Phoenix said to me before hurrying down the staircase.
Sand flew in bursts on the beach as more bombs were dropped. I watched out the window, eating my muffin, as the four Lost Boys raised their weapons and fired at the sky. A copter burst into flames.
“Hand me a muffin,” said Sparky from the controls. I tossed him one and he swallowed it in a single bite.
A familiar voice cracked over the computer’s radio. “Captain Vern to the Lost Boys,” it said. “Lost Boys, do you read me? Over.”
Sparky pointed to a mic left of the desk, and I pressed a button on its side. “Uh, roger that,” I said. “Lost Boys here. Over.”
“You boys still in the fire? We’ve still got a couple of birds around our neck. Trying to take care of them as we speak. Over.”
Birds? Did he mean helicopters? Bad guys? What was he talking about? Birds were close enough to helicopters, so I just went with it. “Uh, yeah,” I said. “We’ve got a couple of falcons on our tail here, too.” Another copter skidded onto our shore, bursting into flames. “The falcons are on fire. Over.”
Silence on the other end. “Uh… what was that last bit?”
If this man wanted me dead, I figured I deserved to have a little fun at his expense. “Falcons on fire,” I said again. “Flames and fireworks, too. Looks like a big bad blueberry muffin, if I had to guess. Whiskey. Hotel. Alpha. Tango. Over. Do you read me, Sarge? I SAID, DO YOU READ ME, SARGE?”
Sparky covered his mouth to keep from laughing.
“Uh… come again?”
“Roger that, Vern. Base to Vern. Delta. Alpha. Kilo. Blueberry,
pumpkin-pumpernickel-strudel-peach pie. Over.”
“Err… what? There must be some static, or something bad with the connection. We have no idea what you’re trying to say—”
“ALPHA, KAPPA, FALCON, FAHRENHEIT. OVER.”
“We’ve contained the threat,” Vern said, grunting—obviously tired of my charades. “They must’ve known where we were. There’s a rat, I suppose. No other way they could’ve found us in the middle of the Pacific. Maybe they caught one of our fishermen—I don’t know. We lost four of our floats. The rest are free-floating at sea. We’ll be lying low for a while now.”
He sucked in a breath. “And who exactly am I speaking with? Over.”
I jabbed Sparky in the arm. “Sparky,” he shouted. “You’re speaking with Sparky. Over.”
“Right, then, Sparky, tell Phoenix you’re clear for the raid. The safe house in the Suburban Islands will host you. Be nice to Gwendolyn for us, won't you? Over.”
“Roger that,” said Sparky. “Over.”
“That’s all from the Caravan, then.” Vern paused for a second. I could still hear him breathing on the other end of the line. “And Sparky?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“Tell Phoenix I expect him to honor our promise.”
My chest felt tight, my head dizzy, and sweat gathered on my forehead.
“And what’s that, sir?” asked Sparky.
“Just give him the message. Vern and the Caravan signing off. Over.”
The speaker buzzed as the radio searched for a signal. Sparky turned to me. “You know what he promised?”
I shrugged. But inside, the weight of Phoenix’s promise hung heavy on my shoulders. No, not my shoulders—my neck. Phoenix’s promise hung around my neck like a noose. It was hard to breathe when I thought about it. I reminded myself again of my mission. My own promise to myself to find Mom and save Charlie.
If Phoenix thought he’d kill me, I’d make sure he died first.
Chapter 25
Charlie stood at the edge of her bed with a rope wrapped around her neck. Its soft white coils caressed her throat’s flesh, beckoning her to step forward. Just a little step. Her arms dangled at her sides, and she prayed Sage would soon come. Her stomach snarled; the food they’d given her had been spoiled and putrid. When she touched her cheeks, she could feel the hollows that had formed.
