A couple more punches and the thing turned and fled into the darkness. Fang swam over to me quickly, seeing my air hose, my breath-holding face probably turning purple. John and Dr. Akana came over too, indicating which way led out of the cave.
Then Fang’s eyes crinkled behind his mask: he was smiling.
Smiling? I had, like, five seconds to go before my lungs exploded. Were my last thoughts as a living bird kid going to be, I thought you loved me, Fang, you freaking traitor?!
Then he took my hand in his and gently ran his fingers along the sides of my neck.
My eyes widened. I could just barely feel a steady stream of tiny bubbles brushing past my fingers. I did a systems check: Did I feel like I was about to pass out from lack of oxygen? Did my lungs feel like they were about to burst?
Nah, not really.
I grinned back at Fang.
I had developed gills.
65
I REMEMBERED how Angel had demonstrated this new talent — she sort of gulped in big mouthfuls of water, and they seemed to flow out her almost-invisible gills. I tried that, tentatively, fearing if I swallowed a bunch of salt water I would immediately gag.
But there was some new mechanism in place, and though I gulped in water, it immediately shot back out again, not down my windpipe or my esophagus.
It was so, so cool. Grinning, I unfastened my vest and let it and my tank drop below me into the depths. I felt so much better, lighter, and more maneuverable without it.
Then I leaned closer to Fang, peering through the water at his neck, smooth and tan under my pruney fingers. I pulled back and smiled at him, nodding. He had the same stream of bubbles seeping out from the sides of his neck.
He spit out his regulator, as John and Dr. Akana swam toward him in alarm. They tried to stop him from ditching his tank, but he pointed to his neck, and began to take water into his mouth. The scientists’ eyes grew huge behind their masks.
Looking stunned, they motioned toward the mouth of the cave. And who was waiting for us there, blond curls floating dreamily in the water like an impish mermaid?
Yeah. Angel. And when she saw us without our air tanks, she grinned in an incredibly annoying, see-I-told-you-so way. Little twerp.
As we moved toward her, I started to get the whole gill pattern of breathing down — take in a big mouthful of water, sort of swallow it, feel it flow out through the gills on the sides of my neck.
In another minute, it had become smoother and more instinctual, and I rejoiced in how incredibly cool and handy this new skill would be… and then, of course, immediately began to fear that I’d start sprouting other fish traits. Like scales.
Uh, like, no thank you.
But swimming with no bulky, heavy tank, no rubber mouthpiece making my jaw ache — I started to see what Angel found so amazing about being under water. I still totally preferred the air environment, with my wings stretched out in the sun. But this wasn’t so bad.
The five of us backtracked, heading to the boat. I started to compose a lengthy lecture for Angel, during which I planned to sit her down and try to drum some sense into her scary little head.
And then, with no warning, something broadsided me so hard it knocked the breath out of wherever I was holding it these days.
66
THE PROJECTILE WAS AS BIG and fast as a freight train and just as powerful. Ramming my side, it tore me far away from the others, making me turn somersaults and startling me so much that I gulped in water and actually swallowed it.
Without my bulky air tank, I quickly managed to right myself and assumed a fighting stance. I was maybe twenty feet away from everyone else, and they were under attack too.
But what was attacking us? The thing that had hit me had turned back toward the others with startling speed. I immediately shot after it, keeping my wings tight against my back, reminding myself to breathe.
The creatures were bizarrely agile and fast, whipping through the water like snakes or eels. And they came in sizes, ranging from Volkswagen bug to Boeing 747. I suspected they were what had attacked the fishing boats and the navy sub, but even this close, I couldn’t identify what they were.
I jumped onto one’s back, trying to hold on as I pummeled it as hard as I could. Its skin was bumpy and rough — and this close much of it looked melted and raw, with enormous, festering wounds that turned my stomach. I tried to find eyes to punch or poke, tried to see some vulnerable underside, but it was just — all muddled up. There was no pattern or symmetry.
The thing bucked and threw me off, and I swirled fast and shot over to where Fang was entangled with one that had flippers. I leaned back and kicked it as hard as I could, and this time I saw a small red eye on one side. Just the one eye.
A quick glance revealed that John and Dr. Akana were already panicked and nearing exhaustion, thrashing around in the water, unsuccessfully trying to fend off blows. We’d been steadily climbing to the surface and now could see pretty clearly, but there was no sign of the boat above us. I had no idea where the heck we were or how I could summon help.
Even Angel seemed to be under attack, and I wondered if these creatures were completely beyond any kind of communication.
Max. Get out of there now! the Voice suddenly commanded. Get the others, and get out of there now!
I grabbed Angel’s shoulder and shoved her up toward the surface, meanwhile kicking the sea monster that surged after her.
I gave a two-handed karate chop across the snout of another creature, freeing John, then pushed him up until he caught on. Fang had finally kicked himself free of his beast, though it was circling to come after him again. Together he and I punched and chopped and kicked the one that had almost knocked Dr. Akana unconscious.
I heard a thin, sharp whistling sound and looked around to see a slim, dark, long thing coming right at us. Not an animal but even more deadly: a torpedo. The navy had arrived.
“Up!” I yelled at Fang, bubbles leaving my mouth. “Now!!”
We spun away from the sea monsters, grabbed Dr. Akana, and kicked as hard as we could toward the surface. Some of them started to come after us, and Fang grabbed my other hand, using his strength to pull me up with him. We put about thirty feet between us and the creatures, feeling our ears pop painfully as the water pressure lessened.
We almost managed to get out of range but not quite. Below us, the torpedo hit the pod of creatures, creating a tremendous explosion that blasted me and Fang right out of the water and about twenty feet into the air. I cried out, holding my ears, then realized I was airborne. I quickly extended my wings and shook the water off.
Fang did the same, and we kept ourselves aloft high above the ocean, watching as big chunks of monster bobbed to the surface. The sub that had launched the torpedo was too far away to see.
I could barely hear anything and felt like someone had hammered an ice pick through my eardrums. It hurt so much that tears came to my eyes — even swallowing hurt.
Less than a quarter mile away, the boat was cranking its engines. Fang and I flew over to it and landed on the deck. We were both covered with scrapes and bruises, I’d swallowed a bunch of water, and my head was spinning from the pain in my ears. All in all, I felt like crap, though maybe not as bad as Dr. Akana, who had been fished out of the water and was now strapped to a body board.
Panting, I leaned against the side of the boat and looked at Fang.
“So the navy stepped up after all,” I said, my voice sounding muffled and far away to me. “Humans actually saved us. In a messy, stupid way, but still.”
This was a new concept, and it took us a moment to digest it. But we had a much more important question: what the heck were those things, and where had they come from?
67
“WELCOME BACK,” said Captain Perry. He was — I swear — trying not to smirk at me.
I snarled as I went past him, took a deep breath, and started down the submarine’s ladder.
Yes. Back on a submarine. A much smaller sub
but again one of the navy’s and again commanded by Captain Joshua Perry.
Turned out only one of my eardrums was busted. It would heal pretty quickly, but in the meantime I was staggering around like a deaf, drunk monkey.
Dr. Akana had a broken arm and collarbone, and bruises covered almost half her body. She’d been airlifted back to the marine research station. John Abate was also beat up and bruised but was still with us, determined to see this thing through to the end, determined to save my mom. I was starting to wonder if maybe he had feelings for her, I mean, more than just a friend and co-worker.
There was a lot of that going around.
We’d spent the night at the marine research station, going over everything we had learned so far, which could be summed up in like two sentences: (1) these things were ginormously gol dang big, and (2) we had no idea what the heck they were.
I’d managed to get most of my lecture in with Angel, but my words slid right off her like rain off a road slick. I was going to ask Fang to try talking to her.
Gazzy, Iggy, and Nudge had all tried to see if they had gills, out in the warm, clear water of the bay. That’s another body of water you’ll never catch me swimming in again. Turns out none of them were turning fishy yet.
Total had elected to stay at the research station with Akila. He hated subs — no one’s blaming him there — and hated water and had no gills and needed some catch-up time with his lady friend, as he put it. He was still wrestling with the whole marriage question.
The submarine crew was no doubt used to top-secret missions where they just did as ordered without asking questions — another thing the military seemed big on — but, all the same, when they saw that their new passengers were six kids and two scientists, their eyes got a little bigger.
Now, hours later, we all huddled over a lit map-table in a small room in the midsection of the sub. This sub was so small that it held only about thirty people and actually had a few thick windows. It was still armed with torpedoes, though, which made me feel better.
“The monster attacks occurred here, here, and here,” said Captain Perry, showing us red dots on the maps. “All within a twenty-mile radius. Today we’re going to cruise this area, crisscrossing it until we see something.”
“I still think these creatures were caused by radiation poisoning,” said Brigid. “We definitely get high radiation levels around here, but it’s been mysteriously difficult to pinpoint.”
“Could I go outside and just hang on to one of the sub’s fins?” Angel asked. “Then I could really see stuff.”
“No,” Captain Perry, John, and I all said at the same time.
Angel frowned.
“The ones I saw up close had wounds all over their skin,” I said. “They were like building-sized pickles, except their pickley skin was all messed up, raw and bleeding and oozing. It was horrible.”
“Did you pick up on anything from them, Angel?” Brigid asked. “The first time, you felt their rage and their desire to kill. Did you get anything different yesterday?”
“Uh-huh,” said Angel. “They were still mad and wanted to kill us, but they’re also in pain. And they’re smart. They can communicate with each other and make plans, work together to attack us in a group. They’re kind of neat — more understandable than whales or dolphins.”
“Uh, what?” John said.
“Whales are great and all, but everything about them is really slow,” Angel said matter-of-factly. “They take forever to get a thought across. And dolphins — well, they’re kind of flighty. They just want to have fun. It’s hard to get them to focus on anything. Unless you’re constantly flinging fish at them. They’re big into rewards.”
“I see,” said John.
Just then a machine started pinging quickly. Brigid rushed to it.
“Off-the-scale radiation, right here,” she said excitedly. “Turn on the floodlights, and let’s see what’s going on.”
Captain Perry quickly gave the command, and the undersea world around us was illuminated with powerful lights. We all raced to the few small windows and peered out as the brightness swept back and forth like a beacon.
“And there it is,” said John, sounding depressed. “One mystery solved.”
68
“WHAT ARE WE looking at?” Gazzy asked.
“I’m guessing… fish?” Iggy said, sounding bored.
“There’s a bunch of containers out on the ocean floor,” I explained to him. “Plus fish.”
“How deep are we?” Nudge asked, her nose pressed against the thick glass.
“Almost a thousand meters,” said Captain Perry. “More than three thousand feet. Not the deepest part of the ocean by any means but still deeper than most subs can go.”
“So they were counting on people not being likely to find it,” Fang said.
“Yes,” Brigid murmured, staring out the window.
“We’re moving in closer,” said Captain Perry.
“There’s writing on the containers,” I said.
“Shining lights on it now,” said Captain Perry.
This close, with the floodlights hitting them full on, we could see dim markings on the sides and tops of the barrels. Brigid’s radiation detector was practically in hysterics, and I wanted to say, “Okay! We get it! There’s radiation! Now shut up!”
“There are Chinese characters,” said John.
I looked at the barrels and saw they were also stenciled with English words. “It says, Danger, Keep Away.” I read slowly, peering through the water. “Property of the Chu Corporation. Huh. No surprise there. And they’re marked with some kind of yellow and black sign.”
“That’s the symbol for radioactive material,” said Brigid.
“Some of the containers’ lids are popped,” said Gazzy. “Like they’ve rusted open. I assume that’s an ‘uh-oh’ kind of thing.”
“I guess you were right about the radiation causing the monsters,” said Nudge.
“It hasn’t been proved yet,” said Brigid. “A scientist needs conclusive proof. But it does certainly look possible.”
“It’s all making sense now,” said John. “The Chu Corporation is dumping illegal radioactive material into the ocean. He created his army of robots to keep it hidden and protected. The CSM was doing a lot of work to bring ocean pollution to everyone’s notice, so we became a threat.” He rubbed his hands over his eyes, looking tired.
“Now what?” said Iggy. “Who you gonna call?”
A quiet voice in the hallway outside said, “Ghostbusters!”
Captain Perry and John groaned. “That phrase is ruined forever,” said John.
“Well, let’s get back up to the surface,” I said briskly, trying not to sound too eager. Knowing I could breathe under water was comforting, but at this depth, if I went out of the sub, I’d be mushed flatter than a pancake in less than a second. “We can call the EPA or the CSM or the navy or whoever, and tell them where this stuff is.”
Not so easy, Max, said the Voice. It’s never that easy. You should know that.
Okay, who saw that coming? Be honest. Everyone but me?
“Uh-oh,” said Angel.
“Double uh-oh,” said Gazzy.
I rushed back to the window and looked out, cupping my hands around my eyes. The sea was moving. Wait — no, not the sea…
It was a wave of Mr. Chu’s weatherproof all-terrain assassins. There were hundreds of them, and they were rushing toward the sub.
It was battle time. Again.
69
CAPTAIN PERRY HIT the intercom. “Prepare for attack! This is not a drill! Repeat, this is not a drill! We are at DEFCON one! Arm the torpedoes, and plot evasive action!”
There was a scurry of activity as men rushed to their battle stations.
The first M-Geeks hit the sides of the sub, and we all grabbed on to something. I happened to grab on to Fang. We couldn’t just go out into the water and fight them, not at this depth, with its crushing pressure. So if I was about to die
a horrible watery death again, this time I didn’t want to go out alone. I wanted to be with Fang and the rest of the flock.
Alarms were sounding, people were shouting, and we heard the first clanging, grinding noises of the M-Geeks trying to breach the sub’s hull. (That’s fancy sailor talk for them trying to punch a hole in the boat’s side, so we would all drown.) This seems to be a glaringly obvious weakness of the whole submarine concept. I’m just saying.
“You kids stay here!” commanded Captain Perry, starting to head up to the control room.
“Um — if I might make a suggestion,” said Gazzy.
“No time, kid,” said the captain, half out the door.
“You should listen to this,” said Iggy firmly, and there was something determined about his face and sightless blue eyes that made the captain pause.
“What?” he asked tensely.
“This one time, when we were surrounded by M-Geeks, there was a storm coming, and we rigged a delayed-timer electricity booster,” Gazzy explained. “When lightning hit the rod, it was amplified, and we aimed it at the M-Geeks. They all, like, turned inside out, and fried. It was excellent.” He beamed at the memory, and he and Iggy slapped high fives.
“That was good thinking, son,” said the captain, “but I don’t see how that helps us now.”
“You’ve got torpedoes,” said Iggy, as if this made it all perfectly clear.
“Torpedoes are good at hitting a particular target,” said the captain. “These things are many smaller targets, and they’re in direct contact with our ship. We can’t do anything to them without harming ourselves.”
I groaned to myself as I recognized the exaggerated patience of a grown-up who can’t comprehend the fact that eight-year-old Gazzy and fourteen-year-old Iggy probably knew more about demolitions, detonators, and explosive devices than almost anyone else on earth.
Waterwings Page 16
