BOOKS BY ADRIENNE KRESS
THE EXPLORERS
The Door in the Alley
The Reckless Rescue
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2018 by Adrienne Kress
Cover art and interior illustrations copyright © 2018 by Matthew C. Rockefeller
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
Visit us on the Web! rhcbooks.com
Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at RHTeachersLibrarians.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Kress, Adrienne, author. | Rockefeller, Matt, illustrator.
Title: The Explorers : the reckless rescue / Adrienne Kress ; illustrated by Matthew C. Rockefeller.
Other titles: Reckless rescue
Description: First edition. | New York : Delacorte Press, [2018] | Summary: “After nefarious, nameless thugs have separated Sam and Evie, the pair must travel the globe to reunite and piece together the remaining clues about the missing explorers from the Filipendulous Five”—Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017020662 | ISBN 978-1-101-94009-9 (hc) | ISBN 978-1-101-94010-5 (glb) | ISBN 978-1-101-94011-2 (ebook)
Subjects: | CYAC: Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. | Secret societies—Fiction. | Missing persons—Fiction. | Voyages and travels—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.K8838 Eym 2018 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
Ebook ISBN 9781101940112
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v5.2
ep
Contents
Cover
Books by Adrienne Kress
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1: In Which We Resume Our Story.
Chapter 2: In Which a Meeting Takes Place.
Chapter 3: In Which We Experience a Bit of Turbulence.
Chapter 4: In Which There Is an Argument.
Chapter 5: In Which There’s a Chase Sequence.
Chapter 6: In Which Australia.
Chapter 7: In Which We Meet the Lost Boys.
Chapter 8: In Which Creepy Things Happen in the Middle of the Night. Because, of Course, Creepy Things Always Happen in the Middle of the Night and Not When It’s Bright and Cheerful Outside.
Chapter 9: In Which We Get to Know Kwan.
Chapter 10: In Which Breakfast Is Enjoyed.
Chapter 11: In Which There Are Some Concerns.
Chapter 12: In Which We Take a Long Walk and Pondering Happens. Also a Fish.
Chapter 13: In Which We Meet Thom.
Chapter 14: In Which Sebastian Has a Pair of Intense Conversations.
Chapter 15: In Which We Go in Search of a Late-Night Snack.
Chapter 16: In Which Sebastian Shows Off His Skills.
Chapter 17: In Which Things Start to Get Weird. Er.
Chapter 18: In Which Sebastian Attends His First K-pop Concert.
Chapter 19: In Which a Plan Is Made.
Chapter 20: In Which Shark Stuff Happens.
Chapter 21: In Which Sebastian Experiences the Experience That Is the Lost Boys.
Chapter 22: In Which We Attempt a Shark Rescue. Which Is a Perfectly Normal Thing That Happens All the Time.
Chapter 23: In Which There Is a Confrontation.
Chapter 24: In Which We Drive a Shark Along a Highway. Again, Totally Normal.
Chapter 25: In Which We…Seriously? Another Chase Sequence??
Chapter 26: In Which We Witness a Reunion.
Chapter 27: In Which We Head Back to the Airport. Finally.
Chapter 28: In Which Evie and Catherine Are Rewarded.
Chapter 29: In Which Sebastian and Evie Each in Their Own Unique Fashion Make Their Way Toward Newish Isle and the Vertiginous Volcano, Using Various Modes of Transport. You Know, Taking Planes and Buses and Other Things Too and Stuff. Point Is, They Both Traveled. Evie Got There First. You Know, I Feel Like I’ve Really Told You Everything You Need to Know in This Chapter Subheading. So How About We Carry on To…
Chapter 30: In Which Evie Sees a Silly House.
Chapter 31: In Which Sebastian Wakes Up.
Chapter 32: In Which We Meet Benedict Barnes. Properly. Not Like Back in the Intro.
Chapter 33: In Which the Unexpected Happens.
Chapter 34: In Which Things Come Crashing Down.
Chapter 35: In Which We Change the Point of View.
Chapter 36: In Which We Go into the Deep Dark.
Chapter 37: In Which the Blind Lead the Blind.
Chapter 38: In Which Everything Comes to a Head. or Whatever Body Part You Feel Like, Really.
Chapter 39: In Which Decisions Are Made, and Some Aren’t.
Meanwhile…on the West Coast of America…This…
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To readers—who are the ultimate explorers
…frustrating. But you know what’s even worse than a cliff-hanger? Waiting to read what happens, then finally getting your hands on the next book, and the author decides to begin the story with a character you’ve never met doing something in a place you’ve barely heard of. That’s totally the worst.
Benedict sat staring at the vista before him. The whole world was laid bare, vulnerable, it seemed, sprawling from the base of the active volcano he was sitting high atop. Which, he had to admit, it was. Vulnerable. Though in such a peaceful moment, it felt highly absurd to picture flows of lava, clouds of black ash, or anything violent, really. The sun was setting over the sea in the distance, and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. The birds were calmly chatting to each other, having gotten over the unfortunate misunderstanding from that morning. From this vantage point he could almost imagine he was the only human on earth. The town that he knew lay beneath him was masked from view by lush green foliage.
He had given himself two months. A short leave that even the university had suggested be extended because of some kind of affection for him, or maybe because two months really messed with their scheduling. But he hadn’t wanted more. He had just needed some space, a little room to clear his head. And he’d been wanting to photograph the isolated Vertiginous Volcano for years. Yet six weeks had already passed and he hadn’t taken a single picture. Sure, he’d looked through the scope, he’d set up shots, he’d paced back and forth. But pressing down his finger, hearing that satisfying click…there was something that was preventing him. He let go of his camera, letting it dangle from his neck on its strap, and stared at his hands. It was surprising that in such a humid climate they could be so cracked. But days spent climbing up and down the side of a volcano had worn away at his palms, and the wind at this height had dried out his skin. He balled his right hand into a fist and squeezed it with his left until he heard and felt the pleasing pop of his knuckles. Then h
e pulled up the collar of his green windbreaker and buffered his neck against the sharp wind.
Not one single photograph.
Why?
What was he waiting for?
“Mr….Barnes?” asked a warm, happy voice slowly, haltingly.
“Why so hesitant, Peter?” asked Benedict, turning to the young man. Peter grinned and sat beside him. Benedict smiled back. He had met Peter on his first day in the town. The local teenager was fascinated with photography, had started a club at his school, and had wanted to be Benedict’s apprentice. Benedict wasn’t comfortable with the term—there wasn’t much he could offer the boy. He liked to work alone. But he’d allowed Peter to follow him a few times. To watch. Right now, evidently, to stare.
“Was there something you wanted?” asked Benedict.
“Oh yes, this came for you.” Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter.
“A letter?” Benedict was charmed. He couldn’t think of the last time someone had written him a letter. He took it from Peter and looked at it. “Urgent” was handwritten in red across the front, and it had been sent to the university. He supposed they had decided to forward it to him despite his request that they not do that with his mail. Mostly because all he got were bills and magazines, nothing he wanted to deal with on top of a volcano.
Urgent.
Hmm.
He flipped it over. A red wax blob sealed the letter closed. Stamped onto it was an unusual-looking symbol. Benedict furrowed his brow. Then he shoved the letter into his pocket.
“You’re not going to read it?” asked Peter.
Benedict gazed out at the setting sun bleeding over the landscape.
“Not today, Peter.” He cracked the knuckles on his right hand again. “Not today.”
There is a difference between fact and opinion. It’s hard to tell sometimes because opinions like to dress up as facts, and their costumes have gotten quite impressive lately.*1 There is a way, however, to easily tell the difference between them. You have to weigh them. Because, you see, facts have more substance. So they’re heavier. This is how one can know for a fact, for example, that being kidnapped for your brain is scary. Because when this fact is placed on the scale, man, does it ever tip the balance!
There are other facts one can be certain of. Like that private planes are cool. That traveling long distances gets boring. And that not knowing where you are going or what’s going to happen to you is exhaustingly stressful.
And if you don’t believe me, just ask Sebastian, who was sitting in his seat and staring out the window of the private jet, feeling precisely all those things.
It was odd to feel bored. Not that feeling bored is a rare or weird feeling. It’s a very common part of life, after all. But it just felt so strange to feel bored in his particular situation. He should have been feeling terrified, possibly even a little excited. And he knew this because he’d felt those things initially when he’d been snatched out of the Explorers Society headquarters and held captive in a helicopter. But that felt like forever ago now. After flying to the private airport, getting on the private plane, flying over the ocean, and continuing to fly over the ocean. And yet more flying over the ocean…
Things had started to get just a little boring.
And now the boredom was turning into sleepiness.
Which was really quite simply all kinds of wrong.
“You could sleep,” said Mr. M.
Sebastian shifted his gaze from the window to the man sitting across from him wearing a patch over his left eye. Mr. M appeared very relaxed, but of course he would be. His life wasn’t in danger, now, was it?
“So could you,” Sebastian pointed out.
“Nah, gotta keep one eye open,” replied Mr. M, laughing at his own joke. Sebastian didn’t laugh. “Get it? One eye? Get it?”
Sebastian got it. He just didn’t find it particularly funny. Suddenly he had a flash of his parents at the dinner table and his mother telling that joke about the salamander and how not-funny the joke was and— Oh, there was that pain in his gut again. He wondered if his parents were looking for him. They must be.
He wondered if Evie was looking for him.
Like she’d promised.
“It’s because I only have one eye, that’s the joke,” continued Mr. M. “Because keeping one eye open is an expression.” He paused. “But also I only have one eye. It works on two levels.”
“I get the joke!” snapped Sebastian in exasperation.
“Whoa, okay, okay. Jeez, relax.”
“Easy for you to say,” muttered Sebastian under his breath.
“It’s true. It’s very easy for me to say. I’ve completed my task; I have the key. Which is you.” He stared at Sebastian for a moment. And then as if by way of explanation: “You’re the key.”
“I know I’m the key,” Sebastian replied curtly. What on earth was going on? Before this week, everyone had always treated him like the highly intelligent boy he was. Now everyone seemed to be second-guessing his smarts. And it was seriously annoying.
“So anyway, with my job well done, I feel as cool as a cucumber.” Mr. M paused. “Why do they say that? Are cucumbers cooler than other vegetables?”
“I don’t know why they say that.” Another wave of sleepiness was washing over Sebastian. He was tired of dealing with Mr. M, who had this frustrating ability to be both extraordinarily terrifying and completely tedious at the same time. And weirder still: if he hadn’t known any better, Sebastian would have sworn that Mr. M wanted to be his friend. Not that there was anything wrong with friends, of course. It’s just that people who want to hurt you are not the best choice for friends.*2
Just as Sebastian finally gave in to his exhaustion and closed his eyes, he was rudely drawn back to the horror of his situation by a guttural grunt. He started and looked up. Mr. I, with his gruesomely wired-shut jaw, was towering over him. The man gazed at him hard for a moment and then turned to Mr. M. He grunted again.
“What is it now?” asked Mr. M, seemingly sincerely annoyed that his conversation with Sebastian had been interrupted.
Mr. I pointed toward the cockpit, and Mr. M sighed. Mr. M gave Sebastian an apologetic glance, then stood up, adjusting the old-fashioned-looking gun in its holster as he did, and made his way to the front of the plane. Mr. I replaced him in the seat and stared at Sebastian. Or at least, seemed to stare. He was still wearing those sunglasses of his.
Staring, Sebastian could handle. It was a quiet activity and required nothing of him. But as he stared back defiantly, gazing at his own reflection in the man’s glasses, Sebastian found his boredom seeping away. There was something about Mr. I that just so completely reminded him of the danger he was in. Maybe it was how worn Sebastian looked, reflected in the dark, unforgiving glasses; maybe it was that Mr. I had very recently been this close to ending his life; maybe it was the bits of wire sticking out between the man’s teeth and poking through the flesh of his cheek. Whatever it was, Sebastian was officially scared again. But more than that, he was reinvigorated.
His plan to sleep would have to wait while he formulated another one. It was time for that marvelous brain of his to take charge.
Yes.
It was time to plot a daring escape.
*1 I once saw an opinion wearing the most spectacular curly mustache that distracted me so much, I totally let him come into my head, even though I found his footwear suspicious.
*2 Unless, of course, you’re part of the “We want to hurt each other for fun” club, which, from my understanding, is currently down to one member.
There was a pig-in-a-teeny-hat-shaped lump under a sheet.
It snorted.
“Oh, sorry!” said Evie, quickly removing the sheet, balling it up, and tossing it into the corner. The pig sat and stared at her with a look of disappointment. A
look that said, “I’ve been taking such good care of you ever since your friend was kidnapped, and this is how you treat me?”
“I really am sorry,” Evie said.
The pig snorted again.
Evie bent over and gave it a little scratch behind its right ear before straightening the teeny hat on its head. Then she quickly stood and grabbed the next sheet and pulled it off the table in one determined motion. Unlike the pig, Evie didn’t snort. But she did sneeze loudly as the dust tickled the back of her throat and nostrils. The large white sheet in her hands billowed out impressively before her, then fell limply to the floor as the pig took one step to the left, neatly avoiding it. She gathered the sheet up in her arms and added it to the pile in the corner. Then she turned and took stock of the room.
The Emergency Meeting Room for Emergencies meeting room hadn’t seen a lot of activity in recent years. Myrtle, the Explorers Society president and general rememberer of dates and things, had told Evie it hadn’t been used since the great sea horse rescue almost fifteen years ago. Evie supposed that was a good thing. Emergencies generally were not events one relished. She’d encountered a great many in her short eleven years on this planet.
Still, there was some small comfort that the society was taking this seriously. That they cared so much for Sebastian. He’d been kidnapped only a few hours ago through the window of her brand-new bedroom at the society, yet they’d already arranged the important meeting. The use of the room could be described as both upsetting and comforting.*1 Though, of course, very little was able to comfort Evie at the moment.
The Reckless Rescue Page 1
