“I’m going, too,” she said, startled by her boldness.
She felt Dr. Weber put a cautioning hand on her shoulder.
“I can lead you right to him,” Anaya plunged on. “I’ve been there.”
Technically, this was true, but she hadn’t been there in years, and didn’t really know the geography. But no way was she letting them go without her. If Dad had let her come along in the first place, he might not be in so much danger.
“You could also just tell us where he is,” the colonel said.
“I’m useful!” she persisted. “The plants can’t hurt me. I can go places the soldiers can’t!”
“My people are very highly trained.”
“Have they been inside a pit plant?”
“Or cut their way out with a chain saw?” Petra added. “I want to go, too.”
Startled, Anaya looked at Petra. “You sure?” she asked. It wasn’t even her own father.
“And me,” Seth said.
“You guys don’t have to,” Anaya said, touched by the dogged loyalty in Seth’s solemn face.
“It’s too dangerous,” Dr. Weber said. “I can’t authorize it.”
Anaya expected the colonel to back the doctor up, but he wasn’t even looking at her. He was looking at the three of them intently—and with far more interest than he had when they’d first arrived at the base. Anaya felt a twinge of discomfort: She wasn’t entirely sure if she liked that look. It was the way someone might stare at an intriguing piece of machinery, or a weapon. But all she cared about right now was that he let them go.
“You three might be assets to the mission,” he said.
Dr. Weber said, “Colonel, they are civilians and they are minors.”
“I want to go!” Anaya insisted. For the first time, she was irritated by Dr. Weber. She just wanted to get going. Dad had been hit; he might need help right now!
“Carlene will flip,” Dr. Weber said to Seth.
“Let her,” Seth replied. “I’m going.”
Colonel Pearson said, “You’re free to accompany them, Dr. Weber. Your feet won’t even touch the ground. You’ll stay in the helicopter the whole time. It’s a straightforward extraction. We’ll be ready to go in half an hour.”
“Thank you,” Anaya said, hoping they weren’t already too late.
* * *
THE SOLDIER SITTING opposite Petra was unbelievably handsome. His name tag said BROCK, which she knew was his last name, but it could also be an awesome first name. In fact, he had the same eyebrows as Brock on that ranch show she told everyone she hated, but totally did not hate, and watched secretly in her bedroom.
Looking at Captain Brock was the only way she could distract herself from the fact she was strapped into a helicopter, bumping her way toward an island thrashing with cryptogenic plants. She really, really hoped she wasn’t going to throw up all over Brock.
She glanced at Seth, who actually seemed to be enjoying the ride, and then at Anaya, pressed against the opposite door. Petra wanted her to get her dad back—and she also wanted that special soil. The faster they got it, the faster they could start killing the plants. And the faster she’d stop changing. Maybe she’d even go completely back to normal. Or as normal as she got with her water allergy. Right now living with a water allergy seemed easy, compared to turning into a reptile.
Also in the cabin with them was a female soldier whose name tag said JOLIE, yet she looked anything but jolly. Petra had never seen such humorless eyes. Colonel Pearson wasn’t with them, so Brock was the commanding officer. He’d made that clear before they even took off.
“You don’t do anything until I tell you to do it,” he’d said. “And right now, all you need to do is buckle up.”
Dr. Weber was wedged between the two soldiers, and she didn’t look at all pleased. Before they’d left, she’d tried to talk them out of going, but Anaya hadn’t budged, and Petra wasn’t letting her friend go alone. On the school field, she’d freaked out and left everyone in the lurch, and that wasn’t happening again.
She shifted so her tiny tail wasn’t jammed so much against the seat. She wondered how long before it was noticeable—with any luck, she’d have it hacked off by then. She squashed the thought down. Slow, deep breaths.
“This should be fairly routine,” Brock said above the noise of the rotors. “Once we reach the site, we’ll land if possible. If not, we’ll hover. I’ll rappel down, get a harness on your father”—he was looking at Anaya now—“and bring him up.”
“And the soil samples,” Anaya reminded him.
“No sweat,” said Brock.
“My father said there were plants everywhere,” Anaya told him. “It might not be so easy.”
“I’m an expert gardener,” Brock said with a cocky smile. “And I brought my pruning shears.”
He nodded at the bulging duffel bags Petra had seen them pack at the base.
“We’ll have your dad back in time for dinner,” Brock told Anaya. “Don’t worry, Miss Riggs.”
Petra saw Anaya blush, and felt irked. The captain had barely glanced her way the whole trip. I’m an expert gardener. Obviously a conceited jerk. And Brock—what a stupid name.
“We’re coming up on Cordova Island,” Jolie said.
“Let’s open them up,” Brock said, and he and Jolie popped open both doors, sliding them flush along the sides.
Air galloped in, and the noise doubled. Below them, water flashed past, and Petra felt a surge of vertigo. Instinctively she grabbed Seth’s hand. He squeezed back.
“Okay?” he asked her, looking as surprised and embarrassed as she felt.
She nodded, and released her grip. “Sorry.”
“All right,” said Captain Brock, “we’ve spotted a dock. We’re doing a circle.”
The helicopter tilted over, and Petra now stared straight down on a rocky shoreline. She figured if this didn’t make her puke, nothing would. A single boat was tied up at a skinny wooden dock.
“I think that’s Dad’s!” Anaya shouted.
“Proceed northeast,” Brock told the pilots through his headset. “We are looking for a small lake, with an island in the middle.”
Petra stared down at a steep, rock-strewn slope. Black grass soared up everywhere there was open ground. She spotted a bony goat standing on a boulder. Then they were over thick forest. In the treetops she caught sight of dark vines, a quick flash of berries.
“I’m not seeing anything!” Jolie shouted.
Petra caught the worry lines in Anaya’s forehead.
“Thought you said you knew where this place was,” Brock said. He didn’t sound charming anymore. He sounded testy.
“I do. It’s sort of bean-shaped. I’ve seen pictures.”
“You said you’d been there.”
“It was a while ago.”
“This place isn’t that big. We should’ve seen it by now.”
“It’s here!” Anaya said firmly.
“One more circle of the northeast,” Brock told the pilots over his headset.
Anaya shook her head in frustration. “It should be right down here!”
“Take us lower,” Brock told the pilots over his headset.
Petra’s stomach jumped as they tilted and swooped down. Through Anaya’s open door she gazed into dark treetops.
“All I’m seeing is forest,” Brock said.
“Those aren’t trees,” Anaya told him.
Petra blinked and stared harder. What she’d thought were branches were actually thick vines that formed a huge canopy. Her breath snagged as she saw some of them slither, growing over one another. Even from this height, she caught a faint whiff of the sleeping perfume.
“The lake’s down there!” Anaya pointed at a gap in the vines, and Petra saw a quick flash of water.
�
��The vines must’ve grown right over it,” Seth said. “Like they’re trying to hide it.”
Jolie looked at him sharply. “You’re talking like they’re intelligent.”
“They grabbed a cell phone!” Petra told her.
“It’s like they don’t want us getting that soil,” Seth added.
“These are plants,” scoffed Captain Brock. Into his headset he said, “Okay, we’re over the site. Hold here.” He unbuckled himself and leaned way out the door. “We’re certainly not landing, but if we torch away some of these vines, I can rappel.”
“I’ll burn a hole, Captain,” said Jolie, unzipping a bag and pulling out a flamethrower.
“Wait!” said Seth. “It might be toxic. Like the black grass.”
“We’ve got masks. And you guys are immune, yeah?”
“I think we should turn back,” said Dr. Weber.
Anaya looked at her, shocked. “Why?”
“This is already more dangerous than we thought. I’ve never seen the vines growing so fast—and Seth’s right. The pattern of growth suggests an intelligence we haven’t seen before.”
“We can’t just leave her dad down there!” Petra protested.
Dr. Weber looked at Captain Brock. “Anywhere else to land?”
“Not on this island. If we want our man today, we need to cut a hole to bring him through.”
“Anaya,” said Dr. Weber, “I know you want your father back right now. But my chief concern is keeping you three safe. If we start a fire, we might not be able to put it out. And think of the debris that might fall on your dad. We’ve got gas masks. Your father doesn’t.”
Petra saw her friend struggling.
“On the video he had his mouth and nose covered,” Anaya said. “There must be sleeping gas floating around down there. They’re trying to knock him out. If he falls asleep, that’s it. We can’t wait any longer.”
Brock passed out gas masks to the pilots and Jolie. He held one out to Dr. Weber, who reluctantly took it.
“Try and burn as little as possible,” the doctor told Jolie.
“Will do,” the soldier replied.
“Take us down, thirty feet above the canopy, and hold steady,” Brock instructed the pilots, his voice muffled through the mask.
Nervously Petra held on as they dropped closer to the vines. Birds fluttered away from the bright clusters of berries. Two tendrils stretched and wound themselves around each other.
“Light it up!” Brock commanded.
Jolie shot out a thin stream of flame. The vines caught quickly, and a plume of yellowish smoke expanded toward them.
The helicopter banked away skittishly.
“Man, that stuff burns,” said Jolie. “When it stops smoking, we can see if—whoa!”
Petra’s head jerked back and hit the wall as the helicopter dropped.
Brock staggered off-balance. “Hold her steady!” he shouted at the cockpit.
“Wasn’t me!” the pilot called back.
Petra peered out her open door. Cold electricity tingled across her skin. Some vines had snagged around the helicopter’s landing strut.
“Look!” she shouted.
“You’ve picked up a couple of stragglers,” Captain Brock told the pilots. “Pull up!”
The helicopter lurched sharply higher, but was instantly yanked back, knocking Petra against Seth.
When she looked outside again, she saw more vines crawling around the landing strut.
“They’re dragging us down!” she yelled.
“Flamethrower!” Brock shouted at Jolie, who tossed it to him.
The captain sent a blast of fire down into the vines, and the helicopter surged forward. Petra exhaled in relief, but her breath jolted in her chest as they tipped sharply.
“Still got us!” the pilot shouted back.
Petra felt something against her shoe and cried out when she saw the vine. It had grown across the floor of the compartment, and out the far door.
“There’s one inside!” she said, stamping at it with her foot.
Brock pulled a serious knife from his belt and started sawing. It took him several seconds to cut through, and then Petra and Seth and Anaya helped him peel it off the floor and fling it out.
“We’re still snagged around the struts!” Jolie shouted from her open door.
The helicopter slewed in a circle, ever tighter and lower.
Petra looked out her doorway and saw that two vines had grown into the engine cowling right underneath the helicopter’s rotors.
“That’s not good,” muttered Brock as alarms bleated from the cockpit.
“Brace!” the pilot shouted back at them.
It was all so fast. The helicopter jerked back, as if yanked from behind, then keeled over. Petra clenched her eyes and held tight.
* * *
IT WAS LIKE a fairground ride Seth had been on once, only much, much worse. The seat restraints bit into his shoulders and chest. The rotors shrieked a rusty tune of tortured metal. Branches crackled against the sides as the helicopter plowed through treetops. When it finally came to a brain-shuddering stop, the air was punched right out of him.
He choked in a breath, and started coughing. Beside him in the tilted compartment, Petra was blinking, dazed, holding a hand to the place where they’d just knocked heads. On his other side, Anaya stared confused at the branch that jutted into the cabin. He heard someone saying his name, and it took him a moment to realize it was Dr. Weber.
“Seth?” she said, looking at him in concern. “You okay?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Fine.” She tilted her head at his right arm, and he followed her gaze. His sleeve had been shoved up, revealing the bandages on his arm. The tip of a feather poked through. Quickly he yanked the sleeve down. He glanced anxiously at Brock and Jolie, but they were busy with other things.
Up front, the helicopter pilot was slumped motionless against the crumpled controls. The co-pilot had unbuckled himself and was shaking the pilot’s shoulder. “Berton? Berton!” Somehow, a vine had already crawled partway across the windshield.
“Do not move!” Captain Brock told them all, unbuckling himself.
When Seth looked out the doorway, he understood why. They were way up, and the helicopter teetered in the branches.
“Berton needs a medic!” the co-pilot called back to them.
“Coming,” Dr. Weber said, unbuckling herself.
“Carefully,” said Brock as the helicopter tilted. “Jolie, you and I are going to balance this baby while the kids get off. Anaya, you good to climb into the tree? Go.”
Seth watched as Anaya unbuckled herself and grabbed hold of the branch. There were lots of smaller branches to hold on to, and she clambered toward the trunk. The helicopter creaked ominously. Brock and Jolie took small steps around the compartment to keep it level.
“Berton’s losing a lot of blood,” Dr. Weber said. “His hip’s crushed. We need to get him to a hospital.”
“We still got a radio?” Brock asked the co-pilot.
“Dead.”
Brock swore under his breath. “Seth, go! All the way to the ground if you can, and get clear.”
Seth scrambled out into the tree. Anaya shifted to some lower branches to make room. Now that he was outside the helicopter, he could see how mangled it was—and how tippy. Not much was holding it up. From the engine cowling, flame licked up at the mangled rotors.
“There’s fire,” Seth called back to Jolie, pointing.
“Yep,” she said, like this was the most normal thing in the world.
“We should keep going,” Seth said to Anaya, and she nodded and kept climbing down.
He looked back to Petra, who had just stepped into the hatchway. Without warning, the helicopter dropped. Petra half jumped, half fell,
and landed clumsily on the same branch as Seth. She started to slip off, but he seized her wrist and steadied her long enough so she could get a grip.
The helicopter fell a few more feet, and Seth saw one of the mangled rotor blades come swinging toward them.
He shoved Petra’s head down and ducked, just as the blade sliced over their heads with a rusty moan.
“Geez,” muttered Petra. “Thanks.”
And then he was climbing down as fast as he could. When he glanced up, he saw the branches bending under the helicopter’s massive weight. Two black vines grew into the open door. He heard Brock shouting orders.
“Dr. Weber, go! Granahan, you too!”
“We can’t leave Berton!”
With a terrible groan, the helicopter listed over. The flames burned higher. Seth turned his full attention to the tree, one branch after another, working his way lower.
A bag of gear tumbled past him, crackling through the branches.
Brock’s voice again: “Granahan, get out! That’s an order!”
“Something’s snagged my foot!”
“Jolie, go!”
With a great snapping of branches, the helicopter dropped—and this time didn’t stop. Seth hugged the trunk as its burning bulk fell past him with a roar.
ANAYA’S FEET HIT THE ground at the same moment as the helicopter, and the concussion knocked her flat. Branches and debris rained down on her.
“Run!” someone shouted from the tree.
She thought it was Brock but couldn’t see him through the branches and thickening smoke. To her huge relief, Petra and Seth landed on the ground nearby.
“Come on!” Petra said, pulling her by the arm.
She stumbled over a big bag of gear. Whatever was in there, they might need it. She dragged it after her. Seth hefted up a side so they could go faster.
“Everyone get out?” she panted.
“Don’t know,” Seth said, stumbling on.
Behind them, an explosive clap of thunder sent a hot gale blasting past. When she dared look back, she saw churning smoke, and then Dr. Weber came through it, followed by Brock and Jolie, who was the only one without a gas mask. She was bent over, coughing.
Bloom Page 17
