Waterwings

by James Patterson

  Brigid addressed us earnestly. “Since mankind first began venturing out to sea, there have been tales of sea monsters. Reading these old stories nowadays, we recognize that some of what they saw were regular whales or whale sharks or giant squid.”

  “What about the Loch Ness Monster?” Gazzy asked. He loved stuff like this.

  “That’s a myth,” someone said.

  “It’s never been proved or disproved,” Dr. Akana said. “Some people think Nessie is the last surviving plesiosaur. Some people think it’s a mythical creature come to life, like a phoenix. And some people think it’s always been a hoax.”

  “What we’re dealing with now is not a hoax or a leftover dinosaur,” said Brigid. “It’s a real, living creature, and according to our telepath, it’s full of rage and a desire to kill.”

  We all looked around for a minute until we realized that the “telepath” was Angel. Well, “telepath” sounds better than “creepy little mind-reading kid,” so I was cool with it.

  “But what do you think it is, Dr. Dwyer?” asked one of the other researchers.

  “I think it’s either a created life-form or a life-form that’s been affected, mutated, or enhanced,” she said, “by radiation.”

  “Created life-form?” One of the researchers frowned.

  “Like us,” I said. “Right? Ninety-eight percent human, two percent avian.” Might as well name the elephant — or bird kid — in the room.

  “Well, yes,” Brigid said awkwardly, not looking at me. “Only not as successful. But I’m more inclined to think that it was an ordinary life-form that was irradiated and has mutated.”

  “Radiation?” Nudge asked. “Like, they microwaved it?”

  “Not exactly,” said Brigid. “There are many sources of radiation, both naturally occurring and man-made. I’m thinking of some of the mutations observed after Hiroshima and Chernobyl.”

  “I’ve heard those names before,” I said, wondering if it had been on a TV show.

  “Hiroshima is a town in Japan,” John said. “The U.S. dropped a nuclear bomb on it near the end of World War II. The bomb killed a hundred thousand people outright, but tens of thousands more later from radiation sickness. Plus, as time went on, it became clear that lingering effects of radiation caused some human genes to mutate. This mostly showed up as birth defects, miscarriages, and cancerous tumors.”

  “Fun,” I muttered.

  “Chernobyl was a nuclear power plant in the Soviet Union,” John went on. “The site of the worst nuclear-reactor accident in human history. The area around it is still contaminated with radiation, and it’s unclear whether people will be able to live anywhere near it ever again. Huge amounts of radiation were released into the atmosphere and caused genetic problems and contaminated food and milk as far away as Sweden and England. The thing is, radiation can cause unpredictable and often fatal genetic mutations in living creatures.”

  “You’re saying you think there’s radiation in the ocean, and it caused these creatures to mutate into these attacking monsters?” a researcher asked.

  Brigid nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Now we just have to find out where the radiation is.”

  60

  “I LIKE BOATS better than subs,” I said.

  I looked up at the sky above us, and back at the foamy white wake we were leaving behind us. I breathed in deeply, the fresh, salty air still seeming like heaven after being on the sub. We were on the marine research station’s biggest boat, a forty-five-foot tri-hull that sliced neatly through the water.

  “We’re setting up the radiation-detecting equipment right now,” said Brigid. “Fang, come see this — it’s really interesting.”

  I bit my lip to keep from screaming. Fang shot me a sideways glance, then followed Brigid below deck to the equipment room.

  Half an hour later we were far out into the ocean and could barely see land, even with our raptor vision. The boat’s engines stopped, but the water here was too deep for us to anchor. I couldn’t help it — I ran down the deck of the boat, then leaped off the end, into the air.

  Snapping out my wings, I rose on the ocean’s thermal wind, climbing in lazy spirals toward the sun. In moments I was joined by Angel, Iggy, Gazzy, Nudge, and Total. Everyone but Fang. I tried not to think about him, his dark head bent toward Dr. Amazing’s as they murmured about ocean maps. For now I just wanted to enjoy flying.

  Six months ago, we’d flown just about every day, for hours. It had been our main mode of transport. My wings had felt strong, tireless. Some days it had actually felt weird to walk. Lately it seemed like I spent a lot of time in planes, on boats and subs, in cars. But today I could fly and enjoy the sun and exercise making heat radiate off my feathers.

  “This feels good,” said Iggy.

  “Yeah,” Gazzy agreed.

  “I never want to wear khaki again,” Nudge declared, swooping in a huge, freewheeling circle. For a while we’d lived among hawks and then with some bats. They’d taught us all kinds of maneuvers, and I always felt a burst of joy when I recognized them in the air.

  These were the times when I didn’t actually feel that human, and I could let go of some of my human problems. Like my mom being kidnapped. Or Fang and Brigid. Or my come-and-go Voice. Right now I could just —

  “Agh!”

  Something hard and wet exploded against my shoulder, drenching my shirt. I looked back frantically, hoping I wouldn’t see a sprawling flow of blood. It seemed like… it seemed like…

  I looked up to see Gazzy almost doubled in half, laughing so hard he was practically snorting. He got a grip on himself and whipped another water balloon out from under his jacket. Nudge squealed as he smacked her right in the head despite her evasive moves.

  “My hair!” she shrieked, water dripping into her eyes. “You know what humidity does to it!”

  Iggy cackled and pulled out his own arsenal. He and Gazzy pelted me, Nudge, and Angel over and over — I had no idea how they’d even reached that elevation carrying so much weight in water balloons. And where had they gotten the stupid balloons anyway? It wasn’t like we’d popped into a party store lately!

  “Ow!” I yelled. “Stop it, you two! I’m gonna get you!”

  We played dive-bomb and chase, tag-a-feather, and had water-balloon wars for a good long while. At one point I’d grabbed Gazzy’s leg, holding him upside down and shaking him to make his balloons fall. Nudge and Angel hovered below him, catching the ones that dropped, then humming them at Iggy and Gazzy.

  Good, clean bird-kid fun was had by all. Except Fang.

  Finally we swooped lower and lower, faces flushed, hair windblown, eyes bloodshot from the breeze, cheeks hurting from smiling so much and laughing so hard.

  On the boat’s deck, I saw Fang waiting, standing very still. Several researchers were holding binoculars, watching us fly back toward them. When we were about sixty feet away, Angel suddenly pointed.

  “Look over there!” she called. “Something big and dark, not a whale!”

  I looked and saw it: a huge, uneven shape, seeming to dive down deeper into the water. In another moment it was gone.

  I landed gracefully on the boat’s deck with barely a sound, like a little sparkly fairy or something. Let’s see Dr. Stupendous do that.

  “We just saw something in the water,” I said, panting a little. “It went too deep for us to make it out, but there’s definitely something there, not too far away.”

  “We need to go under and look for it,” Angel said firmly, climbing up on the boat rail and preparing to jump.

  “Hold it!” I said. “Let’s come up with a plan before you jump in, okay?”

  “I agree,” said Brigid. “We’re picking up radiation signals, but we can’t tell where they’re coming from. I’d like more time to explore that.”

  “Oh,” said Angel, nodding, and I let out a breath at her apparent show of reasonableness, something that had been in short supply from her lately. “But I’m ready now,” she said, a
nd hopped nimbly overboard, plunging quickly into the water.

  I was gonna kill that kid.

  61

  I’D LIKE TO TAKE A MINUTE to point out that under water, humans need fins, a mask, a tank of compressed air, and a regulator to breathe from. Up in the air, I needed nothing. What does that tell you? I was not meant to be under water.

  It took almost eight minutes for me, Fang, Dr. Akana, and John to get set up in scuba gear. It felt more like a month. But finally I was holding my mask against my face and falling backward over the side of the boat, feeling the weight belt and heavy scuba tank pulling me beneath the surface.

  Three more splashes and then our gang of four did a 360, hoping against hope that Angel had lingered in the area.

  How much do you wanna bet that she did, and that we spotted her right away, and that she agreed to stay with us nicely while we looked around under water?

  Didn’t think so. That mouthy six-, I mean seven-year-old — with a will of iron and all the calm reasoning power of your average rabid squirrel. Between that and her occasional bids to become the flock leader, she — was cruisin’ for a bruisin’.

  John and Dr. Akana pointed off into the distance and started to swim in that direction. Fang and I followed, because we sure didn’t have any other options. Ahead of us were hills of coral or rock or something and a zillion fish swimming in and around and darting in and out of shallow cavelike places. Dr. Akana had told us that there were some volcanic caves in the waters around Hawaii, and I guessed that was what we were looking at.

  But no Angel and not even a trail of bubbles to follow. We were all carrying powerful flashlights and now shone them into the caves, watching as fish startled over and over again. We saw lobsters, too many different kinds of fish to identify, corals, sponges, a couple of moray eels poking their heads out of their holes. But no Angel.

  I was starting to get really mad, and this tank on my back made me feel awkward. The fact was, when it was just the six of us, Angel really listened to me and wanted to stay close by me. Now that we were surrounded by grown-ups who were giving us food and taking us on adventures, Angel didn’t seem to need me as much. It hurt.

  I flicked my light around a cave, saw nothing bird-kid-like, and started to back out. I glanced around for the others… and realized I was totally alone.

  And way, way deep inside a cave.

  I’d been caught up in my musings and had not seen the group moving off somewhere else. Backpedaling quickly, I looked right and left, searching the dark water for flashlight beams. I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t even see the cave entrance. I must have wandered in there and gone around corners without realizing it.

  Crap.

  I deliberately slowed my breathing and tried to calm down. I got into this cave; I could get out. I had enough air in my tank for about half an hour, I thought. I’ve been in worse situations. I just needed to settle down and backtrack.

  Of course, backtracking works best when there are footprints to follow, or when the terrain has landmarks and is therefore recognizable. It does not work when the only trail is bubbles, and every single rotten cave wall looks exactly like every other single rotten freaking cave wall, and there are only surprised fish to ask for directions and — oops! — I’m not a freaking telepath!!!

  An underwater scream is so much less satisfying and effective when it is done into a regulator, I discovered.

  Picturing Fang recovering my drowned body, I swam carefully back in the direction I thought I had come from. None of it looked familiar, and none of it didn’t look familiar.

  It all looked the same.

  There was no light coming from anywhere, no sign of my fellow divers. I pictured my funeral, saw Nudge choking back sobs as she threw flowers on my coffin. My throat closed, and tears welled up in my eyes, which made my mask fog up.

  I swore loudly into my regulator and cleared my mask the way I’d been taught. When I could see, I again tried to steady my breathing and take stock of where I was.

  That’s when I realized that I was looking ahead at two caves, where a branch veered off. Had I traveled down one of the branches, or had I come from somewhere behind me — should I turn around?

  Let me rephrase that question: If my life were a corny horror movie, and the heroine was lost and alone, trapped in an underwater cave, what would happen next?

  If you guessed, “She drops her flashlight, and it hits a rock and breaks, leaving her in utter darkness,” you would be right.

  But I bet you didn’t guess the part about an attack by a giant octopus.

  62

  “JUST SIGN IT.” The second-in-command pushed the paper across the table.

  Dr. Valencia Martinez looked at the woman. Her hands were handcuffed behind her back again, and she was so tired. At least her actual hunger pangs had gone away after four days without food. Now she just felt weak and sick and like she wanted to sleep for a very long time. “No.”

  The second-in-command sat back. “All you have to do is sign and then appear on camera denouncing your work at the Coalition to Stop the Madness. Then you can eat and drink, and we will return you to your family.”

  Just the idea of eating actual food made Dr. Martinez feel sick. “No. I believe in the CSM. We’re destroying our planet, and it has to stop.”

  The second-in-command was careful not to show her frustration and anger. Instead, she nodded at one of the M-Geeks standing guard. It moved forward smoothly, its wheels making no sound. It reached out an arm, and a long, thin screwdriver-like thing extended from the end. It touched the skin on Dr. Martinez’s arm and emitted a shock.

  She jumped but stifled a shriek of pain. The tool left a small red mark on her arm, next to all the other small red marks. I look like I have the measles, she thought with rising hysteria. Think about something else, she told herself. Be somewhere else.

  The small, stuffy room seemed to fade away as Valencia looked past the second-in-command, out through the small, thick window. The water outside was dark: the only light came from the powerful beams of this underwater station. Dr. Martinez wished they would just shoot her out into the water, the way they had the fourth-in-command. It would be heavenly out there, quiet and cold and wet, and as soon as she was out there, it would be over. She wouldn’t have to worry anymore. They couldn’t hurt her anymore. She could sleep.

  Something enormous and dark moved through one of the beams of light. Valencia blinked, seeing that it wasn’t a whale. What on earth was it? It was alive, not a machine, but like nothing Valencia had ever seen or heard of. It was… an abomination, a grotesque mistake.

  And suddenly, everything clicked into place, everything made sense, and she knew why they had kidnapped her, why they were holding her, and why they desperately needed the CSM to stop its protesting.

  “If you don’t want to save yourself,” said the second-in-command, “you might want to save your eldest daughter.”

  Dr. Martinez met her captor’s eyes. “What?”

  “We have Maximum Ride in custody,” said the second-in-command triumphantly. “Sign this, and we will let her go.”

  Laughter croaked out of Dr. Martinez’s dry mouth, distracting her from her pain and weakness. “If you’ve got Max in custody,” she said, “then you have my sympathy.”

  She started to laugh again, but the M-Geek shocked her much more strongly now, and everything went fuzzy for a minute, before she passed out.

  63

  OKAY, I’m no marine biologist, so the whole octopus/squid distinction is lost on me. All I can tell you is that it was way bigger than me, gushy, slippery, impossible to get hold of, and seemed to have a million tentacley arms that it wrapped so tightly around me I couldn’t move.

  I remembered how octopi and squid eat their prey — they pry open clams and use their sucky arms to shove the soft clam meat into their parrotlike beaks. It was trying to pry me open! Then it would stuff soft bird-kid meat into its beak!

  I drew in panicked breaths from
the regulator, thrashing around, trying to kick backward, everything I could think of to break free.

  Reminder: One cannot build up a lot of power in water. One cannot jump up and kick something. One cannot use one’s weight effectively. One can only thrash around, pushing helplessly against gushy, squishy, stretchy tentacles, trying to pry them off of everything.

  One can also try to reach the eight-inch knife one has strapped to one’s thigh. Of course, I couldn’t get mine, because that was how this whole day had gone.

  And then it pulled my mask right off my face.

  Cold salty water splashed into my eyes, went up my nose. Meanwhile, the slimy beast pulled the regulator out of my mouth, almost yanking my teeth along with it as I tried to hold on. Now I had no air source.

  I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t swallow the salt water. We mutant freaks have very efficient lungs and air sacs, but we do have to breathe. If I couldn’t breathe, I would drown, here in a dark cave, lost and alone.

  Without ever kissing Fang again.

  Tears are kind of redundant in the ocean, but I felt them well up hotly in my eyes.

  64

  EYES SQUEEZED shut, mouth closed tightly, I struggled with all my might, wishing with every fiber of my being that this was a plain-old regular Eraser or Flyboy or M-Geek or clone or any other ridiculous, stupid thing that someone had thought up —

  The arms loosened their hold on me.

  I fought and struggled again, and the arms loosened some more. Then suddenly the arms were gone. I lunged for my regulator hose and saw that the cave was full of light.

  And there were John, Dr. Akana, and Fang. I had opened my eyes just in time to see Fang punching the octopus/squid/cephalopod right in its big googly eyes.

  I reached around and grabbed my regulator — only to find half of a ripped hose, which had blown my entire air supply out in a huge, festive burst of bubbles.