Hatch

by Kenneth Oppel

  She was aware of being hoisted out of the dentist chair. Half walking, she opened her eyes. She was already inside the elevator, a guard supporting her on each side. Ritter watched her closely.

  “What did you experience?” he asked.

  She was still dopey, but a small, steady part of her mind cautioned her.

  “I was sort of half awake the whole time. I dreamed I was running in a forest.” They already knew this stuff anyway, so she figured that was safe.

  “Did you see anything else?”

  “Claws on my fingers. Fur on my arms.” Again, old news.

  “Did you hear anything?”

  One word. Help.

  Was someone offering help or asking for it? She had no idea. What she felt most strongly was the feeling emanating from that one word, like an amber glow.

  It felt like kindness.

  “No,” she lied. “I didn’t hear a thing.”

  Chapter Six

  THE GUARDS HAD LONG ago turned off the dorm lights, but Petra was still wide-awake. She’d been assigned a top bunk and they were triple-deckers, so she was practically squished against the ceiling. It was too warm, and she was in a room full of strangers, and the nauseating smell of lemon disinfectant wafted out from the bathroom. They’d been given basic toiletries, and a change of underwear to sleep in. It was like some terrible summer camp, except that she had no personal possessions, was deep underground, and could never leave. And her best friend wasn’t even here.

  Petra’s worries bounded like wild animals unleashed into the night. Where had they taken Anaya, and why wasn’t she back yet? What were they doing with her? To her?

  She felt intensely alone and homesick. She missed her own bed and pillow. It seemed frivolous, with the world being invaded and all, but she did. This mattress was super thin, and the pillow was too fat and hard, and she was sorry if she was whining like Goldilocks, but she missed her duvet, too. She’d chosen it four years ago when she’d thought lilac was a good idea, and now wished she’d chosen white, but she would’ve given a lot to have it against her now.

  Earlier she’d heard a girl crying herself to sleep, and that had almost started Petra going. She wondered if Mom and Dad were still on Deadman’s Island, under arrest. Part of her hoped they were. Probably they were safer on a military base than anywhere else. Not that anywhere was safe anymore, with the plants, and now those freaky bugs hatching all over the world.

  She turned onto her side and clamped her eyes shut, but she started seeing the patterns on Darren’s arms, writhing hypnotically. She thought of Darren’s tail. What had happened to him was going to happen to her. Her own body would change, and there was no way of stopping it, nothing she could do.

  She opened her eyes. Better this way. Harder to go down a black hole of panic. She stared at the rows of triple bunks, the humps of sleeping girls. She saw the empty bottom bunk that was Anaya’s and wanted her friend back now.

  And that made her think of her other friend, Seth, which made her angry, but this was better than being crushed by panic. At dinner he’d ignored everyone but Esta. By the end, the two of them weren’t even talking, just gazing at each other like actors who hadn’t heard the director yell, “Cut!”

  Seth used to look at her—or at least sneak little glances when he thought she wouldn’t notice. But not the way he’d looked at Esta, like they were having some kind of silent conversation. As corny as that sounded.

  He’d just met Esta. She, Petra, had known him a lot longer. He’d held her hand in the helicopter. Sure, it was only holding hands, and maybe it was silly, but it had meant something to her. And she was sorry if she didn’t have feathers like Esta, but honestly. It was ridiculous. What kind of guy was he, if he could lose interest so quickly?

  Light cut across the dorm as the door opened, and Anaya walked in a little unsteadily. The door closed and locked behind her, and Petra climbed out of bed and rushed over to her friend.

  “You okay?”

  “A bit dizzy.”

  Petra helped her to the empty bunk and squished in beside her. In the dim glow of the night-light, she studied her friend’s face.

  “What happened?” she asked, then listened as Anaya told her about the antenna farm, the dentist chair, the drugs, and the signal-tracking experiment.

  “I think one of them talked to me,” Anaya said.

  Petra felt an electric tingle. She knew the answer but still asked: “One of who?”

  “One of them,” Anaya said. “A cryptogen.”

  “You’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

  Anaya shook her head. “This was totally different. This time someone was actually there. At first I couldn’t understand the sounds. It was like they were looking around my brain, trying to figure out how to talk to me.”

  “Like translating?”

  “Yeah. I think it was hard for them. Maybe that’s why I only got one word.”

  Petra swallowed. “What word?”

  “Help.”

  She was so confused, it took a few moments to gather her thoughts. “It makes no sense, Anaya. They’re invading us! Why would they help us, or need our help?”

  “It felt like both. Offering and asking. The way she said it.”

  “Whoa, hang on,” said Petra. “She?”

  Anaya looked surprised, too. “It felt, well, motherly.”

  In the dim light, her friend’s eyes looked wet. Petra squeezed her shoulder. “Maybe you just miss your mom.”

  “Maybe, but . . . no, I definitely got the sense she was like me.” She frowned. “I think she wanted my help.”

  Petra let out her breath. “These things are trying to wipe us out!”

  “I know, it’s crazy, but I trusted her.”

  Petra almost clamped her hand over Anaya’s mouth. “Don’t say things like that! You didn’t tell Ritter this, did you?”

  “No. I lied to him.”

  Petra’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Good.”

  “I thought you were all for cooperating with Ritter.”

  “Yeah, I am, but if they even think we’re friendly with the cryptogens, or helping them, we’ll never get out of here.”

  She knew she was contradicting herself but was also convinced that their only hope was making Ritter believe they were loyal humans, that they wanted to destroy the cryptogens. If Anaya started blabbing about how they might actually be nice aliens and want to help, they were sunk.

  “During the test,” Anaya said, “I heard one of the army guys say they got a fix. They found the source of the cryptogens’ signal!”

  “Are you serious? So where is it?”

  Petra had always imagined the cryptogens in a spaceship somewhere, darkly orbiting the planet. But with a chill she wondered if maybe they were closer than she thought. Could they already be here, hidden on Earth?

  “They didn’t say.”

  “But wherever they are, this is good news, right? If we know where they are, we can attack them—maybe even do a surprise attack! We can fire missiles into outer space, can’t we?”

  “I’m not sure,” Anaya answered wearily, and Petra couldn’t believe her friend wasn’t more excited.

  “This is good news,” she said, jostling Anaya. “This means we have a chance. Maybe we can actually beat them!”

  “THIS IS INCREDIBLE,” SETH said, keeping his voice low. He leaned closer across the cafeteria table, his half-eaten breakfast forgotten. “You actually talked with one of them!”

  “Well, she talked to me,” Anaya said. “It was so quick.”

  He noticed she referred to the cryptogen as a she. “And she was friendly?”

  Anaya looked uncomfortable. “It was just a feeling I got.”

  “Yeah,” said Petra. “I’m sure all they want is to come down and help us build more Walmarts.”

  “Look,” Anaya replied, “maybe you’re right—maybe they want to confuse us.”

  Seth tried to imagine what it would be like to have their words, their languag
e, inside his head. Gooseflesh prickled his neck. He realized he felt envious.

  “We’re not telling anyone else about this, okay?” said Petra.

  “These things in our brain must be pretty powerful,” he said, “if we’ve been transmitting to them, wherever they are. And if they can talk to us . . .”

  His thoughts strayed, and he took a sip of his water, his mouth suddenly dry. He found Esta across the cafeteria. He’d been thinking constantly about their conversation yesterday, especially the strange thing that had happened at the very end.

  “If the cryptogens can communicate using these things in our brain,” he said, pulling his attention back to Anaya and Petra, “why can’t we?”

  He watched their faces carefully. Petra was already shaking her head.

  “No,” she said, looking frightened. “You’re talking about—”

  “Listen,” he said, “yesterday with Esta, there was this moment I wasn’t sure we were actually talking anymore. It was only for a few seconds. I mean, I heard her. But I’m not sure her mouth was moving.”

  “Okay, I get it,” Petra said, and she seemed almost angry now. “So why don’t we test this little theory. Anaya, whisper something to Seth, but don’t tell me what it is. And, Seth, you tell it to me”—she rolled her eyes—“telepathically.”

  Seth leaned in as Anaya cupped her hands and spoke softly into his ear.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked Petra.

  “Nope. I’m good to go. Zap away.”

  He wished her eyes weren’t so skeptical—it was distracting. Her pouty mouth was distracting, too. For a second he felt at a loss. With Esta it had just happened without him realizing—if it had happened at all. Maybe he had imagined it.

  “You finished?” Petra said. “’Cause I’m getting nothing.”

  “I haven’t even started!”

  He took a deep breath and tried to turn down the volume in the cafeteria. He focused on Petra’s left eye—he’d been looking at Esta’s eyes when it happened. The darkness of Petra’s pupil helped him concentrate, and he was suddenly aware of a shimmer at the very bottom of his vision. It reminded him of the light coming from underneath a closed door at night. He was aware of a pungent, salty scent. It seemed to belong to the light, beckoning him. Silently he spoke the words Anaya had told him.

  He blinked and saw Petra inhale sharply. Her cheeks flushed a deep red.

  “I heard you,” she murmured.

  He was aware of his heart beating hard. “What did I say?”

  “These gluten-free pancakes are gross. Is that right?”

  Seth’s giddy pulse tripped over itself, then recovered. He nodded.

  “Oh my God,” said Petra, holding her hands to her cheeks. “We’re telepathic now?”

  “Why’re you blushing?” Anaya asked her.

  “It was just . . . so personal. Like having someone whisper right into your ear. No.” She shook her head. “More like having a person show up inside your head. And there was a kind of flicker of light that came with the words.” She frowned. “And a smell.”

  “What was it?” he asked.

  “Like woodsmoke.”

  He nodded. “You smelled like a beach at low tide.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t sound too nice.”

  “No, it was unforgettable. And totally personal, like it could only have been you.”

  “Last night,” Anaya was saying excitedly, as if she’d just unlocked a memory, “when I heard the cryptogen in my head, I saw a pulse of amber light and smelled wet soil.”

  “Maybe it’s some kind of sensory fingerprint,” Petra said.

  “And the light’s a kind of beacon,” he added. “But the other person has to want to talk. You can’t just barge in and read people’s thoughts. It’s like a phone call, not mind reading. You have to want to talk.”

  “I want to try now,” Anaya said excitedly.

  Seth faced her and waited. At the periphery of his vision came a quick glimmer of light. A smell filled his head, so appropriate and, somehow, familiar that he smiled. And with the scent came silent words, blossoming in his head. But their edges were unclear. He squinted, trying to bring them into focus.

  “Think I got it. You said—”

  “What did I smell like?” Anaya wanted to know first.

  “Your light was green, and you smelled like a lawn that had just been mowed. Your words were kind of hazy, though. But you said, Do we tell anyone?”

  There was a moment of silence as they all regarded each other.

  “We should tell Ritter,” Petra said.

  He looked at her, startled. “Are you crazy?”

  Her face clouded with annoyance. “No, I am not crazy, Seth. This is important information. The cryptogens are telepathic. That’s something you’d want to know about your enemy, right?” She shot a look at Anaya. “And I don’t want to hear about how some of them might be nice and friendly.”

  “Ritter’ll want to do tests on us,” he said.

  “They’re already doing tests on us,” Petra retorted. “That’s all anyone does with us, including Dr. Weber. It’s not like Ritter’s going to drill into our brains or anything!”

  “No?”

  He couldn’t believe how naive Petra was. Maybe having an RCMP officer for a mother made her trust people in uniforms.

  “You think Ritter actually cares what happens to us?” he asked her.

  “Look,” Petra said, “we are at war, and we’re all on the same side, right? We’re all on the human side? So we should be doing everything we can to help! And that means not keeping secrets that might help us fight these things.”

  “First thing he’ll do is split us up,” he said. He was absolutely sure of this. “He won’t want us talking behind their backs. He’ll worry we’re plotting in secret.” He lowered his voice even more. “And if we want to get out of here, that’s exactly what we should be doing. Making a plan. The telepathy gives us an advantage, and I’m not giving it away.”

  He looked over at Anaya, who hadn’t said anything in a while.

  “You agree with me, right? You didn’t tell Ritter about talking to the cryptogen. So why would you tell him about our telepathy?”

  “If it were Dr. Weber,” Anaya replied, “I’d tell her everything in a heartbeat. But not Ritter. Shouldn’t we tell the other kids, though? They have a right to know.”

  He shook his head. “The more kids we tell, the more likely someone tells Ritter. I can see Darren doing it. He’s already acting like he’s in the army. I heard him say ‘Yes, sir’ to Ritter in the gym. He practically saluted.”

  “What a numbskull,” Petra said.

  “So we keep it just the three of us,” said Anaya, “for now.”

  “I think this is a mistake,” said Petra stubbornly, “but if we keep it secret, that means no telling Esta either.”

  “She might’ve figured it out already,” he said, remembering how she’d blushed before leaving the table.

  “Well, if she hasn’t, don’t tell her,” Petra said pointedly.

  Seth felt himself revolt. “We can trust her.”

  “No exceptions, Seth. Back me up on this, Anaya.”

  “She’s right,” Anaya said.

  Seth shrugged. “Fine. Just the three of us.”

  From the corner of his eye he saw Darren strutting toward them, his sleeves rolled back to show off his muscled arms. Seth ate another forkful of his omelet. It was filled with cheese and mushrooms and green peppers and was really very good.

  “So, what’s new?” Darren asked, dropping down beside Petra.

  Seth caught her eye for a split second.

  “Nothing,” Petra said.

  Chapter Seven

  —IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY IN two days, Anaya said to Petra as they did laps. She was keeping to a slower pace so they could run side by side.

  —Which means it’s yours in eight, Petra replied.

  Their silent talking had become a habit, especially wh
en they wanted privacy. Over the past three days, Anaya was amazed how much easier it had become. At first it was hard to find that little glimmer of light that guided you into a person’s head. With practice it had become almost second nature. She didn’t need to look into the person’s eyes, or close her own, to concentrate. She didn’t even need to be in the same room. Yesterday she’d managed to reach Seth in his dorm. Silent talking was also especially useful if, like right now, they needed to save their breath while doing laps.

  —This is definitely not how I imagined turning sixteen, Anaya said.

  —Maybe Ritter will bake us a cake.

  —And sing “Happy Birthday” to us.

  Back in her normal life, Anaya had sometimes daydreamed about having a sweet sixteen party. But she’d never pictured hosting it in an underground bunker with a couple of dozen kids who had tails, wings, and claws. The ones on her own fingers were getting so long, it was hard to hold a fork or scratch her cheek without stabbing herself.

  —My birthday plans also didn’t include turning into a Wookiee, she added.

  Petra snorted with laughter. You are not turning into a Wookiee.

  This morning after her shower, she’d taken a good look at herself. She’d been okay when her legs got hairy, less okay when the hairs crept up her torso and down her arms. But today when she’d looked in the mirror, she’d had a brief, terrifying moment when she hadn’t recognized herself. Fine dark hairs spread across her forehead, cheeks, and the bridge and slope of her nose. Her ears, mouth, and eyes were still clear. All the other runners were going through the same thing, at least. And it was a small comfort that the facial hairs weren’t long and bristly, but soft and sleek.

  —I’d say your look is definitely more kangaroo, Petra said with a mischievous grin.

  —Thanks a lot!

  Anaya wondered if her friend was secretly happy about her hairy face, but then she felt mean when Petra said:

  —Sorry. It sucks. I could tell you were enjoying being beautiful.

  —Beautiful?

  She couldn’t help glowing with the unexpected compliment.

  —Don’t pretend you didn’t know, Petra said.