by Trudi Trueit
“Is everyone okay down there?” he called.
“Yes, but hurry!” hissed Bryndis. “And don’t yell.”
Leaning back in, Cruz shut his eyes, took a breath, and plunged his hand into the dragon’s mouth. He felt something slimy. Ick! His first impulse was to snatch his hand back, but he resisted. Grimacing, he latched on to the slippery object and pulled. When he opened his eyes, he was holding a small clear plastic bag.
“Cruz?” Bryndis’s voice floated up to him.
“Coming.” Yanking apart the zip top, he pulled out a dark green fleece cloth from inside. His heart had doubled in speed. Cruz flung back one corner of the cloth, then another, and another…
There it was: the second piece of his mother’s cipher! Cruz nudged the little pie-shaped piece of marble with his finger. At last! So much effort, so much sacrifice, for something so tiny. Cruz couldn’t help but think of the man who had lost his life for it.
Thank you, Nóri.
Lowering the zipper on his coat, Cruz reached for the lanyard around his neck. His fingers fumbled as he tried to attach the second piece of the cipher to the first. Should it go on the right side or the left? Clockwise was right. A flood of fear went through him. What if it was broken? What if it didn’t fit? What if it was the wrong—
Cruz felt the pieces snap together. Yes!
“Uh…Cruz?” It was Emmett. “You might want to get down here.”
He tucked the cord back into his shirt, closed his uniform jacket, and slid up the zipper of his outer jacket. Cruz began his descent. Feeling for the same toeholds he’d used going up, he made it down much faster and without his crampon slipping once. “Glad that’s over,” he said, feeling solid ground under his feet again. He turned. “Let’s get out of here before—”
Cruz was facing two men. One was Officer Wardicorn. The other was Tripp Scarlatos. Both were holding guns.
“WHAT’S YOUR hurry, mate?”
“Tripp?” Cruz could hardly believe his eyes. “What are you—”
“Just do as I tell ya and don’t upset Wardicorn. He’s a bit on the jittery side.”
“You?” Sailor scowled at the security officer. “You’re supposed to protect us.”
“Pretty sure that ship has sailed,” mumbled Bryndis.
“Come on. Time’s wastin’.” The sub pilot held out his free arm toward Cruz, palm up, and wiggled his fingers. “Hand it over.”
Cruz didn’t move. How did Tripp know he had come here for the cipher? And who was he working for? The Society? Nebula? Someone else?
“You heard me.” There was an edge to Tripp’s voice Cruz had not heard before. “Give me the journal.”
Ah! So that was what he was after.
“J-journal? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Wardicorn took aim at Bryndis and cocked his weapon.
“Okay, okay!” cried Cruz, putting up his hands. “I’ve got it, but it’s useless to you, Tripp, I swear it is. It’s an expanding digital holo-journal that only I can access.”
“A holo-journal?” Tripp eyed him with suspicion. “Paper, plastic, or metal?”
“Paper.”
Tripp sauntered toward him. “Let’s see it.”
Cruz obeyed.
“That can’t be it,” grumbled Wardicorn, watching Lani’s protective sleeve transfer ownership.
“Oh yes it can.” Tripp turned the journal over in his hands. “Smart. No wonder we couldn’t find it.”
So they were the ones! They had ransacked Emmett and Cruz’s cabin! Cruz tried to make eye contact with his roommate, but Emmett had tiptoed behind the laughing dragon. He hoped his friend wasn’t going to try any heroics.
“You won’t be needing this anymore.” Tripp flung the journal to the ground and stomped on it.
“No!” shrieked Sailor as Tripp smashed his heel into the center of the journal. Seeing his mother’s journal being destroyed, it took every ounce of Cruz’s energy not to swoop in and save it. Instead, he bit his lip. And tasted blood.
They heard what sounded like glass cracking.
“Quiet!” hissed Bryndis.
For a moment, everyone stood completely still, their eyes glued to the wavy blue ceiling. Nothing fell.
“So why are we here, Cruz?” The sub pilot was shuffling toward the laughing dragon. “Looking for something special?”
Cruz set his jaw. He wasn’t about to tell Tripp Scarlatos anything.
“Our spies had a feeling you were looking for something at the seed vault, too,” explained Tripp. “Nóri filled in the blanks.”
Cruz shuddered. “Nóri?”
“He told us what we needed to know.”
Cruz didn’t believe it. Tripp was lying. If Nóri had said something about the cipher, Tripp would be demanding that right now, too.
“Such a tragedy.” The corners of Tripp’s lips curled upward, and Cruz knew the awful truth.
It was Tripp. He had pushed Nóri into the hot spring. Cruz stared at the sub pilot in horror. This was his mentor, someone he had learned from, looked up to, even confided in. Now to discover the aquatics director was capable of such a thing was more than a blow. It was a betrayal. Not only of Cruz, but of Explorer Academy and everything it stood for. There could be only one explanation.
“You’re working for Nebula, aren’t you?” accused Cruz.
Tripp tapped his chin, pretending to think. “Could be. Could be.”
“Jerk,” muttered Sailor.
“Well, it’s been fun spelunking, but we have to be leaving,” cackled Tripp. “You guys are gonna stay right here and pretend you’re ice sculptures for the next twenty minutes, yes?”
Team Cousteau gave vigorous nods.
Wardicorn and Tripp began stepping backward over the bed of chunky black rocks. The hair on the back of Cruz’s neck went up. Something wasn’t right. Wardicorn and Tripp were going to simply walk away? Leaving them here? Alive?
Once the men reached the bend in the cave leading out of the chamber, Wardicorn stuck his gun into his waistband. Tripp did the same. Cruz exhaled. Maybe everything was going to be okay. Tripp had destroyed the journal and any hope Cruz had of finding his mother’s formula. Was it possible that was enough for him? Still, once the explorers got out of the cave, Tripp had to know they would tell the authorities what happened, but maybe by then Tripp and Wardicorn would be long gone.
“Sure is beautiful here,” sang Tripp, his eyes traveling over the soaring ribbons of blue ice above them. “I can think of worse places to die.”
“Hey, weren’t there four of them?” asked Wardicorn.
“Not anymore.” Taking his hand from his pocket, Tripp tossed something round and green into the air.
It took Cruz a second to realize it was no apple. Grabbing Bryndis’s wrist in one hand and Sailor with the other, he brought them to the ground with him. “Emmett, down!” he shouted a second before a massive boom rocked the cave. Ice began raining. Cruz could feel the sting of hundreds of shards pelting his head, neck, shoulders, and back. The storm seemed to last forever. Cruz waited another half minute before lifting his head. “Is everyone okay?”
“Yeah,” said Sailor, rolling up on her knees. She had ice in her hair.
“Me too,” coughed Bryndis.
Untangling themselves, they slowly got up. “Emmett?” Cruz called softly.
No answer.
“Emmett?” Sailor cried louder.
“Shhh!” whispered Bryndis, lifting her eyes. “We don’t need a complete cave-in.”
“Sorry. Look.” She nodded to the mountain of ice and rock in front of them: 15 feet of debris blocked the exit.
Cruz turned to Bryndis. “Is there another way out?”
“I don’t think so. The tunnel on the other side of the dragon leads deeper into the cave.”
; “I’m sure we can find a way out of here, but first let’s find Emmett.” Cruz knelt by a slab of ice. “Sailor, grab that end.”
The three of them worked swiftly to lift several large hunks of ice. Those that were too big to move they got down on their stomachs to peer under. The trio covered the entire chamber but didn’t find Emmett.
Cruz went to stand beside Sailor, who was staring at the pile of rock and ice blocking the tunnel. He put a hand on her shoulder.
“Maybe he made it out?” Her tone was meek. Fearful.
“Maybe,” he said, but he knew it wasn’t likely. Emmett had probably tried to make a break for it and had been crushed in the explosion. His eyes welling, Cruz stubbed his toe into the ground. He couldn’t let himself think about his friend or he’d lose it. He needed to stay strong to help his teammates find a way to escape. Brushing his hand across his eyes, he tapped his EA communications pin. “Cruz to Marisol Coronado.” Getting his transmitter to work inside a glacier was a long shot, but he had to try.
No response.
“Cruz to anyone on Orion or anyone within range? This is an emergency.”
Still nothing.
Sailor was swiping her phone screen. “No phone, either.”
Hitting her GPS in vain, Bryndis sighed. “We’re too deep in the cave to get a signal in or out.”
Next to the debris pile, Cruz went on his tiptoes. He carefully swept a few pebbles aside, then moved a few bits of ice. He could see light!
Bryndis was watching him. “Good effort,” she said, “but I doubt we can make a hole big enough for us to safely climb through.”
“It’s not for us,” he answered with a grin.
“Huh?”
“Bryndis and Sailor, get behind me.” Cruz waved. “We’re going to take a selfie.”
Sailor made a face. “A selfie? Now?”
Cruz opened the lower-right pocket of his uniform and tapped the honeycomb pin attached to the lapel. “Mell, on.”
From inside his pocket, two gold eyes flashed at him.
“Mell, fly to eye level, please. Camera on. Record entry.”
The honeybee drone complied. With Mell hovering in front of him, Cruz cleared his throat. “The date is October twenty-third, and I’m Cruz Coronado, a first-year student with Explorer Academy. My teammates are here, too: Bryndis Jónsdóttir and Sailor York. One other team member, Emmett Lu, was with us but is missing. We’re stuck in the Langjökull caves near the laughing dragon rock. Tripp Scarlatos and Officer Wardicorn deliberately set off an explosion to trap us here. The cave-in most likely killed Emmett. My aunt, Marisol Coronado, is a professor on Orion, our ship that’s docked in Reykjavík harbor. Please contact her. Please send help.” He glanced around their icy prison. “And please hurry. Mell, end recording.”
Catching the drone, Cruz placed her near the opening he’d made. “Mell, fly to Olvirsson Outfitters at the base of the mountain and play my last recording for the couple that owns the place. You should be able to get GPS coordinates for the climbing shop once you have cleared the cave. Confirm, please?”
The bee winked at him twice to indicate she understood.
“Mell, go.”
The four of them watched as the MAV zipped through the small gap. They stood there for a few minutes after the bee was gone.
“I hope she can do it.” Bryndis didn’t sound confident.
“She’ll do it,” Cruz assured her. “She’s saved me more than once.” His stomach chose that moment to let out a vicious gurgle, a reminder that he’d eaten nothing all day.
The girls grinned.
Cruz opened his insulated water bottle. It was only half full. He had forgotten to fill it before leaving the geyser. Knowing he would need to make it last, he took only a small sip.
Bryndis was digging in her pockets. “I’ve got some pretzel bread I brought home from dinner last night.”
Cruz checked his pockets, too, but all he had was Lani’s mini surfboard key chain, his time capsule, and half a pack of gum. He should have thought to bring food.
“I’ve got a couple of protein bars,” said Sailor.
“We’d better save those.” Bryndis was tearing her small loaf into three pieces.
They ate the bread slowly.
Cruz was swallowing the last of his bread when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something poking out of the rubble. Lani’s journal sleeve! Scooping it up, he brushed off the dirt and Tripp’s footprints. Gingerly, he slipped the journal out of the envelope.
“It’s not even bent,” said Sailor.
Could it have survived? Maybe, but he couldn’t find out here—not in front of Bryndis. He slid the holo-journal back into Lani’s envelope, then placed it in his uniform pocket. He sat down at the base of the laughing dragon next to the girls. Bryndis was tracing around a curve of the rock with her gloved finger. She glanced up, craning her neck this way and that, as if studying the pillar from every angle.
Cruz looked at Sailor. A question passed between them—one that was asked by Cruz’s eyebrows and answered by Sailor’s nod.
Trust was a funny thing. Easy to ask for. Hard to give.
Lifting his chin, Cruz brought out the rope that hung from his neck.
“Ohhh!” Sailor zeroed in for a closer inspection of the two interlocking pieces of black marble. “The second piece! And look how well they fit together.”
Bryndis tipped her head. “What is it?”
“What Tripp and Wardicorn are after. Sort of. I’ll explain later,” he said to her, tucking the cipher back into his shirt.
Sailor squeezed his arm. “You did it, Cruz. You really did it.”
“We did it,” he insisted. “I couldn’t have made it this far without the two of you, and Lani and Emmett.”
Emmett. Cruz felt a pain slice through him. He couldn’t imagine an Academy without his friend. How could he continue traveling the world with the rest of the explorers without Emmett? It was unthinkable. Unbearable.
Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzz.
“Mell!” Cruz sat up. His honeybee drone was back. “Mell, show flight stats and new videos, please.”
“That didn’t take long,” cried Sailor. “What’s it been—two hours?”
“Thirty-seven minutes,” said Bryndis drily.
Sailor rubbed her gloves together. “I’m just glad a rescue crew is on the way.”
“It could be a while before they get here,” cautioned Bryndis.
“But they’re coming—that’s all that matters.”
Cruz was reading the data Mell was projecting in front of him. “Uh…I hate to burst your bubble.”
Sailor slid closer. “What’s the matter?”
“Mell’s flight stats show she’s only gone three hundred and seventy-six feet.”
“So?”
“So, we walked at least a half mile into the cave—that’s about, what, twenty-five hundred feet? According to this, she didn’t even make it to the cave entrance. Not even close.”
“She must be malfunctioning,” said Bryndis. “Could the cold have affected her circuitry?”
“Maybe, but I doubt it,” replied Cruz. “The self-diagnostic shows everything is working fine. Besides, she’s built to withstand air temps from fifty below zero to a hundred and fifty degrees Fahrenheit.”
“We must have sent her into an air pocket,” reasoned Sailor. “And she’s been flying around all this time trying to find an escape route to complete her mission.”
“That’s what I think, too.” Cruz was still scanning the readouts. “It looks like Mel tried to get a signal out for a GPS lock but couldn’t. She even tried to send the message I recorded, as a last resort. Bryndis is right. No signals are getting in or out. Mell, stats off. Nice try. Thanks anyway.”
She tilted her head, almost apologetically.
“W
hy don’t we check Mell’s video memory?” suggested Bryndis. “If the weather did affect her analytics, we could be missing a message that someone sent back to us—”
“I already did.” Cruz shook his head to indicate there was nothing. “Mell, off.”
Two tiny golden eyes went dark.
Sailor shivered. “Cruz, are you saying…?”
Cruz looked up from the little drone perched on his thumb. “Nobody’s coming for us.”
SAILOR gave a toaster-size chunk of ice to Bryndis, who handed it off to Cruz, who gently set it on the small pile of rubble near the cave wall. They were trying to clear the exit tunnel. It was painstaking work. The explosion had destabilized the roof of the cave, and every now and then, a clump of ice would snap off and hurtle toward them like a frozen missile. They’d have to scurry under the black wing of the laughing dragon rock for cover, wait for the dust to settle, then try again. In the past two hours, more new stuff had fallen than they had cleared; however, nobody wanted to admit that they were engaged in a pointless mission.
As Sailor reached for another block of ice, a crack echoed through the cavern.
“Run!” called Cruz.
They made it under the laughing dragon pillar a second before a shower of ice fell on the spot where they’d been standing.
“Great,” moaned Sailor. “What are we going to do? We can’t go, and we can’t stay.”
“She’s right.” Bryndis looked at Cruz. “If we keep this up, we could trigger another avalanche. But if we don’t…”
Cruz’s eyes followed the curve of the dragon’s extended wing as it vanished into the blue crystalline ceiling. Daylight was beginning to fade. His body was warm, thanks to his hide-and-seek jacket, but his hands were white with cold. Emmett still had his gloves. Plus, he was starving. There had to be a way out of here. But how?
Think. Think!
Cruz dug his frozen hands deeper into his pockets. His knuckle hit something hard—his time capsule. He brought it out, tipping his palm to watch it roll from one side of his hand to the other. It had been a couple of weeks since Team Cousteau had won Taryn’s scavenger hunt and he had yet to give his capsule a single memory. Cruz knew what he wanted to put into the memory keeper, but he’d been too busy…