The Final Warning

by James Patterson

  “I can’t see anything,” Iggy said, sounding depressed.

  “Maybe I could ride with Fang?” Total suggested, squirming nervously in Iggy’s arms.

  “I can still fly,” Iggy said irritably. “I can still navigate.”

  “Oh, so cool!” Gazzy shouted, pointing.

  We’d left the peninsula behind and now were over an island shaped like a raggedy Cheerio with a tiny slit in one side. We began a long series of descending loops toward the island. We all kept our eyes open but saw no one else around.

  “That water in the middle is where the volcano blew up,” Gazzy explained.

  We got closer and closer. It seemed about as safe as any place could be.

  “Thermal!” I said, feeling myself pass through a column of heavier, warmer air. It felt incredible, a pocket of warmth in the middle of the frigid air around us.

  “Something’s bubbling below,” Angel said, looking down.

  “Let’s check it out,” I said in my leaderly way.

  We went lower, not seeing anyone else, and then landed on a moonscape of fine gray grit, small stones, a bunch of signs, and, oddly, a field covered with what looked like broken wooden barrels. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen before.

  And soon it could all be gone.

  So, you’re back, I thought to the Voice. Glad you could join us. Okay, maybe not glad, exactly —

  Pay attention, Max, said the Voice. Memorize what you’re seeing. This place might not be here much longer.

  So I guessed the Voice was on board with the whole global warming thing. I said, “Watch where you step, guys. Don’t get scorched by a geyser or anything.”

  “There aren’t any geysers here,” said Nudge. “But steam is boiling up through the water.”

  “There’s been a lot of people here,” said Fang. He stood in front of one of the many signs, in about eight languages, that warned us to be careful, to watch where we stepped, to not destroy any lichen or moss, to not litter, and so on. It was a protected spot, overseen by “the Deception Island Management Group.”

  “Deception Island,” I said, smiling. “What a cool name. It sounds like where we should live.” I looked around at the surreal, unearthly place. “If we wanted to live in a barren wasteland.”

  “’S not barren,” said Angel.

  Nudge began pulling off her boots.

  “What are you doing?”

  She pointed to the edge of the water, where steam was misting heavily upward. “Hot bath! Those dinky little showers back at the station ain’t cutting it.”

  “Look,” said Angel, pointing upward. I heard them before I saw them: a flock of really big birds, coming off a cliff about a quarter-mile away.

  “What are they?” I asked.

  “Wandering albatrosses,” said Nudge, who had now shucked her coat and scarf and was peeling down to her underwear. “Sailors used to think they held the souls of dead sailors. Oh, my God, this water feels fantastic!” She sank down slowly, seeming to almost disappear into the mist.

  “Be careful,” I said. “The water might suddenly turn boiling or something.”

  “I’m going in too,” said Total, trotting over to the water.

  The albatrosses wheeled overhead. The biggest ones had wingspans bigger than Angel’s — maybe nine feet across. They were amazing. They hardly ever flapped their wings — just glided on the rising currents of warm air. Because our body-weight-to-wingspan ratio was so much greater, we probably couldn’t pull that off.

  “Oh, my God!” Nudge said again, sounding alarmed.

  I whipped my head around and hurried toward her. “What?” Behind me, Fang was examining the sky, the sea, the land, for approaching threats. I skidded to a halt at the water’s edge, scattering grit and tiny pebbles. “What’s wrong?”

  Nudge pointed at Total. He was up to his nose in the warm water, looking more cheerful than I’d seen him in a long time. His black fur was wet and slicked down against his sides. I peered at what Nudge was pointing at.

  “What?” said Total sleepily, relaxing in the steamy water. “Man, this is heaven on my paws. They get so cold. . . . Maybe little boots . . .”

  Now all of us were at the water’s edge, frowning at Total.

  He groggily blinked up at us. “You gotta try this. If I had a martini right now, I’d never come out.”

  Then it hit me, what I was looking at. I don’t know why it took me so long — I’d seen stuff just like it a bunch of times, and not only on us. I somehow never expected it to happen to Total, that’s all.

  Fang raised his eyebrows. I made a “Holy moly” face back at him.

  “What?” said Total, waking up a bit, realizing we were all staring at him.

  I swallowed. “Uh, Total? You’re growing wings.”

  I knew there was something strange about that dog, mused the Voice.

  47

  “OKAY,” SAID MICHAEL Papa the next morning. “Let’s go over some things.”

  We looked up from breakfast warily. I’d felt just a weensy bit guilty about how much the flock was eating until the station commander had dropped the info that they allowed between 4,000 and 5,000 calories per person, per day because of the cold. Unlike ordinary humans, we didn’t burn that many more calories in really freezing weather. So we were actually getting enough to eat, and we were wolfing it down.

  The really jaw-dropping thing? Total had asked to have his breakfast in a bowl on the floor — next to Akila’s bowl. Of course, eating Akila’s special cold-weather dog food was out — Total still had waffles with syrup and bacon, and a bowl of coffee with milk and sugar.

  “We have to press on with our work, despite Sue-Ann’s betrayal. Today you guys will accompany some of the scientists here, do a little exploring,” Michael said. “But you have to remain extra on-guard.”

  I nodded.

  “You were helping document the status of our local penguin colony before Sue-Ann was attacked,” Michael went on. “Today you’ll go with Emily and Brigid as they take measurements and examine different ice layers. The chemical concentrations of the ice layers tell us a great deal about the history of the atmosphere in this area.”

  “But before we set out, we need to go over some safety issues,” said Brigid.

  I tried not to, but I flicked a glance at Fang. His eyes were glued to Brigid, his face friendly and unforbidding. I felt my stomach twist, which made me madder at myself than I was at him.

  “Obviously, this is an extreme environment,” Brigid said. “We do have dangers here, as you have seen. For example, what would you do if you suddenly realized you were lost? A lot of the terrain looks the same.”

  “I’d fly up till I could see the station,” I said. “Then head back to it.”

  The scientists looked at me, taken aback. I guess that solution hadn’t occurred to them.

  “Okay,” said Brigid, nodding slowly. “That would work. Now, there aren’t that many crevasses, but they can be extremely dangerous. If you happen to fall into one —”

  “I would fly back out of it?” I suggested.

  “Um, yeah,” said Brigid, then heroically pressed on. “Okay, you know the penguins aren’t dangerous, nor are any of the other birds here, though you should stay away from nests. And of course there are no polar bears.”

  We nodded. Nudge, Angel, and I had been crushed about the lack of polar bearity.

  “But as you saw, leopard seals can on occasion attack,” Brigid went on. “We recommend staying at least twenty meters away from them at all times. But if you do find yourself confronting one again, I’d recom —”

  “Flying away from it?” Really, this was too easy. I was bad.

  By this time the flock were suppressing smiles.

  “Blizzards,” said Brigid firmly. “Katabatic winds. Sometimes upward of eighty miles an hour. They blow snow and ice particles around, and it can feel like needles.” She paused, as if waiting for me to say I’d fly out of it.

  Which I didn’t. You’d ha
ve to be a complete moron to fly in a storm like that. Last time I looked, I wasn’t a moron.

  “Hunker down,” said Brigid, relieved to finally be able to give us advice. “Dig a hole for yourself in a snowbank. Stay together. Don’t eat ice for hydration — it’ll only lower your core temperature. Stay put and wait for help. We will come find you.”

  “Aye aye,” I said, and saluted.

  Brigid gave me a faint smile, and then we all suited up to brave the great outdoors. Brian Carey watched us gather our equipment. He was staying behind to type up some reports.

  Ordinarily, Sue-Ann would have taken the ice samples we brought her and put them through her chromatograph. Now it was Melanie’s job. She would analyze how concentrations of carbon dioxide and other chemicals had changed through the centuries. Basically, they were finding that carbon dioxide levels — primarily a by-product of burning fossil fuels — were the highest they’d been in the past 800,000 years.

  Being completely objective here, I could see how that would seem like a bad thing.

  48

  “KNOWING THAT THERE ARE EVIL, bloodsucking corporations out there willing to spend a bazillion dollars to create machines whose only purpose is to kill us mutant bird kids is depressing,” said Nudge. We were kneeling on the ice, helping Melanie and Brigid drill their core sampler down into it. “Knowing there are evil, bloodsucking corporations out there who are knowingly and willingly destroying the only planet we have to live on just to make bazillions of dollars is worse.” Nudge sighed and looked bummed.

  Okay, I totally admitted that there were evil corporations out there who were complete bad guys and were polluting everything in sight. I got that. But I still wasn’t sure that it was all causing global warming, or that having a slightly warmer earth would be that bad.

  “How can they possibly stand themselves, knowing what they’re doing?” I agreed. “I mean, how many cute shoes can one company need?” You’d think I was megalomaniacal enough to understand their mind-set, but I didn’t. It was like, make a bunch of money so you can control things, like land or armies or governments or countries — and you want to control them so you can . . . essentially make more money. So you can control more things. So you can make more money. Kind of an empty loop, huh?

  Not to be judgmental.

  But someone had to be judgmental! Someone had to judge that this was crazy and wrong, and those companies were boneheaded idiots! If that person had to be me, so be it. I might not be the perfect spokesmodel against global warming, but I could still absolutely be against pollution. That had been proven to be bad, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

  “I want a baby penguin,” said Angel, tugging on my jacket to get my attention.

  She snapped me out of my alarm-clock-of-doom reverie, and I looked down at her.

  “No,” I said, before I really processed what she had said.

  Her face got that set look I’d learned to dread.

  “No,” I said more firmly. “You already have Celeste and Total. We cannot also have a baby penguin to cart around. Especially when that baby will grow up to be the size of an average third-grader.”

  Angel took a deep breath. “They’re so fuzzy and cute,” she began. “They make little cheeps. There’s a bunch here — it wouldn’t even cost anything. We could —”

  “Angel?” I said. “Baby penguins eat a regurgitated mixture of partially digested fish, krill, and an oily substance from their fathers’ stomachs. Are you willing to eat a bunch of raw fish and krill, and then barf it back up into a baby penguin’s cute, cheeping mouth? Like, every hour?” Sometimes my crushing logic astounds even me.

  Angel bit her lip. “Hm,” she said. She straightened her small shoulders and walked away with dignity. Another disaster averted.

  Leaving me with only Fang’s adoration of Brigid Dwyer to really get stuck in my craw. (What is a craw, anyway? I’ve always wondered.)

  I watched as they worked side by side, his dark head almost touching her blond one. They knelt in the snow, and at one point the brilliant scientist couldn’t unscrew the lens from her special camera. She needed the help of a superstrong fourteen-year-old bird kid. Her smile when Fang opened it was almost as blinding as all this freaking snow.

  Just then, Akila strode by on her way to where Michael was working. She was followed by Total, who had to trot a bit to keep up. I barely heard part of what he was saying.

  “I admire a woman with a career,” he said, his breath making puffs in the air. “I’m very modern that way. Strength is an admirable quality. . . .”

  The back of my neck twitched. Standing up, I cast a hard 360 all around us, shading my eyes from the intense sunlight. We had to wear sunglasses all the time, even Iggy. The bright sun here, reflecting off the snow and ice, could permanently damage our eyes.

  “Max — check it out!” said Nudge as she and the Gasman ran up to me.

  I held up one finger, meaning wait.

  Something was wrong. The horizon was clear. The sky above and around us was empty. Even using my raptor vision, I couldn’t detect anything moving toward us over the ice. I looked again and again, examining the ocean, the land, and the sky. Anything coming at us from any angle would stick out like a pork chop at a vegan convention.

  I couldn’t see a thing.

  But something was wrong. There was a threat somewhere.

  The flock was now aware of my unease, including Fang, who immediately stood and looked around himself. Iggy instinctively came closer to the rest of us, moving unerringly over the rugged terrain.

  Fang completed his surveillance and raised one dark eyebrow at me. I shrugged and frowned. We both stood still, using all our senses to assess our safety.

  “Fang?” asked Brigid. After another look at me, Fang turned and went back to her. I tried to focus on the neat shell Nudge was holding out, and the large tooth of something that the Gasman had found.

  But I could only give them half my attention.

  Something was wrong, and sooner rather than later, I would find out what it was.

  49

  You are reading Fang’s Blog. Welcome!

  You are visitor number: 723,989

  Yo, faithful readers. You know, when I was a kid, my big ambition was to someday not live in a dog crate. Some kids aim high, I don’t know. But here’s a thought, for those of you who haven’t decided on a big ambition: How about being a scientist?

  I know, we all think Bill Nye the Science Guy. Or maybe Dr. Bunsen Burner from that kids’ show with the Muppets. But being a scientist (not the evil kind, obviously) can be awesome. I know, because I’ve met some non-evil scientists recently.

  Right now we’re working with a bunch of scientists that rock the house. One of them is only a little older than me, and not at all geekified. I have to say, a chick who’s super smart and super brave, dedicated to her work, wanting to help people, save the world — well, there’s nothing hotter than that.

  So if you’re not a total wastoid, consider checking out science. We’re gonna need all the help we can get to save what’s left of the planet. It’ll be up to us. We’ll need to have some real skills, real tools. Remember my “Useful Jobs” list from before? There were a lot of jobs on it that could help us in the future. Put down your air guitars, quit pretending to walk down a fashion runway. Go review it.

  Slimfan3 from Jacksonville writes:

  What about all those guys who were after you?

  Well, Slimfan3, either they haven’t found us yet, or they all got wiped out. Either way, the past week has been a primo vacation. If you like cold weather.

  — Fang

  MissLolo from Tulsa writes:

  Are you and Max gonna get married anytime soon?

  Uh, MissLolo? We’re fourteen years old. We think. Who knows how much longer we’ll be around? Who knows where we’ll end up? We don’t plan more than a day or two ahead.

  — Fang

  Googleblob from Holy Oak, CA, writes:

  -Fangalato
r —

  Dude, you are the coolest. I wanna get a tat of your wings on my back. Like, life-size.

  Googleblob, unless your back is fourteen feet across, you are out of luck, my friend.

  — Fang. Just Fang

  S. Haarter from Johannesburg writes:

  I really like hearing @ the stuff u r doin to save the planet. U r my hero. I m gonna txt u a pic of me. [pic deleted] I m reading ur blog 2 my science class as my ecology project. Keep it up!

  Your #1 fan.

  50

  “FANG . . . ALATOR?” I snickered.

  Fang shot me a glance, then continued unlacing his polar boots. I couldn’t believe he’d written a whole blog about Dr. Amazing and Her Quest to Save the World. I mean, excuse me, but who’s been saving the world for the past several months? That would be me. Do I get a blog entry? No. Who beat the Omega blockhead, back in Germany? Dr. Amazing? No.

  “You’re just mad because I wrote about Brigid,” he said, tugging off a boot, and I pulled back, stung.

  “I am not! I don’t even read your blog! You can write about whoever you want!”

  Fang looked at me. “You can’t have it both ways, Max,” he said. “You blow me off every chance you get, but then you get mad if I talk to someone else.”

  “I do n —,” I began hotly, but then realized that was exactly what I did. My face flushed, and I shut my mouth. I didn’t even know what we were fighting about.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I blustered, but Fang didn’t crack a smile.

  “I said that we would never split up again,” Fang said, and my heart leaped in panic. “And I meant it. We have to keep the flock together to survive. But you might want to think about cutting me a break now and then.”

  He gave me a last, long look that I could hardly stand, afraid of what I might see in it. Turning, he began to duck out the low doorway when Gazzy raced up, breathing hard.

  “I can’t find Angel anywhere,” he panted.

  “Maybe she’s just out flying,” I said.

  “She would have told someone,” Gazzy said. “Total’s gone too. Maybe they went walking or something, but it’s getting bad out there — listen to that wind.” He pointed toward the window, and then I realized that the awful wailing and shrieking that I had assumed was just me, panicking inside my head, was actually outside, and weather caused.