Hatch

by Kenneth Oppel

  “Very impressive,” said Ritter. “You four have given us a lot of data.”

  He came over and handed each of them a towel and a bottle of water, like a coach pleased with the performance of his star athletes.

  “Have you ever flown?” Ritter asked them.

  Seth shook his head, startled, but also intrigued. How many times had he dreamed of such a thing?

  “Go ahead. Try. All of you.”

  Excitement pulsed through him. Did Ritter know something? Did he actually think it was possible? Seth flapped his arms, but when he heard snickering, he wondered if this was just a humiliation. He kept going anyway. He jumped and thrashed his arms harder, but down he came every time. Esta fared no better, and neither did Vincent and Siena.

  “. . . no way it’s aerodynamically possible,” one of the White Coats muttered.

  “. . . don’t have the musculature . . .”

  When he turned to glare at them, the muttering stopped.

  “We’d like you to try gliding,” Ritter said.

  When Seth was on the eco-reserve, he’d fallen into the lake from way up high. He’d spread his wings instinctively and felt sure he was gliding for a second. Back on Deadman’s Island, it hadn’t been possible to try again, not when they needed to keep everything secret.

  At the very end of the gymnasium was a blue high-jump mat.

  “Take a run,” Ritter said, “and when you reach the marker, open your arms and jump headfirst for the mat.”

  The first run was easy. The marker was placed within a meter of the mat and anyone could have jumped and belly flopped onto it. The White Coats moved the marker back a quarter of a meter and made them do it again. Each time, they increased the gap a bit more.

  “Fast as you can!” Ritter shouted as Seth sprinted.

  At the two-meter marker, he felt lift for the first time. When he opened his wings and pitched himself forward, he sensed the air bundling beneath his feathers, holding him, just for a second, before he skimmed down on the mat.

  “I felt it!” he shouted to the spotter, unable to hide his excitement.

  He rolled off the mat and watched as Esta launched, sucking in his breath in wonder. He could see her feathers bow as they took her weight. Her body was stretched straight, legs bending back like she’d dived from a great height, and she soared a few centimeters above the mat before touching down.

  “It’s amazing!” she said, turning her flushed face to him, laughing with delight. She was so beautiful suddenly that he couldn’t speak.

  “Let’s do it again,” she said.

  If he could glide, maybe actual flight would come. That made sense, didn’t it? If his feathers kept growing, he’d have more lift.

  “That’s it for the day!” someone called out.

  Seth felt a pang of disappointment. He could’ve kept going much longer. But he glowed with the certainty that his wings had held him aloft.

  THE TREADMILL SPED UP again, and Anaya kept pace.

  Running had always been her most hated gym activity. At school she usually sat out because of her asthma. But in the past few weeks—once her allergies had virtually disappeared—her strength and stamina had improved massively. Even though she hadn’t had a proper sleep in the past few days, she felt strong. She was so grateful to move. She actually felt good.

  “They built a ton of these places during the Cold War,” the boy on the machine next to hers said. “In case there was nuclear Armageddon.”

  His name was Charles and he wore a brown jumpsuit like hers. His label said L2, and according to him, he was one of the very first kids they brought here, nearly a week ago.

  “They could just go underground and run the country from down here, until all the radiation cleared up. I did a school project on it.”

  Anaya figured Charles had probably done school projects on a lot of things, and gotten A’s on all of them.

  “This place is like a time capsule,” he said. “I mean, wait till you see the cafeteria. There are National Geographics from 1964. And the board games! There’s Monopoly and The Game of Life, but the boxes have all these cartoony people in cardigans and bow ties, smoking pipes and smiling like lunatics. Also, they have LPs here. Like, vinyl.”

  He talked fast, even while running. He had a mop of black hair, very curly and faintly greasy. Glasses framed blue eyes that were never still for more than a split second. His fingernails were thick and black. He also had more arm hair than she’d seen on any teenage boy. And his thin face had serious stubble on it. He gave the impression of a very smart and very nervous meerkat.

  She was still getting used to the fact that there were so many others like her. Nine in total, all in brown jumpsuits, each with the letter L stenciled on it. Within seconds of meeting Charles, he’d told her all about his allergies: pollens, foods, pretty much everything under the sun except the alien plants.

  “Do you have any idea where we are?” she asked, surprised she could talk without losing her breath.

  “They flew me out of Halifax, but I was asleep for a lot of it, so I don’t even know how long I was traveling.”

  It was hard to imagine him ever sleeping. He seemed like he had coffee instead of blood.

  “I don’t think we’re in Canada,” she said. “All the signs I’ve seen here, they’re only in English. They’d be in French, too, if this were a Canadian base.”

  “A very well-observed point,” said Charles, and Anaya decided that he’d probably been on the school debating team. And thinking of school made her think of Salt Spring Island, and Mom and Dad, and home. She had no idea how far away, or even what direction, it was.

  “We could be anywhere in the world,” she said sadly.

  “Nah. Jen, she’s L3 over there? Doing the tire jumps? She’s from Chicago, and she swears she wasn’t traveling more than three hours. So we must be somewhere in North America.”

  The treadmill sped up again, and so did Anaya. Her legs felt like they had their own engine. She breathed smoothly and deeply.

  “So what’s going on topside?” Charles asked her. “They don’t tell us anything.”

  She told him about the herbicide and the rainfall of cryptogenic eggs.

  “Geez” was all he said. He was starting to sound a little out of breath now.

  The machine beeped and sped up once more. Charles tried to keep pace, then slapped the red button. To Anaya’s surprise, she was still okay. She looked straight ahead, concentrating, but was aware that a couple of White Coats had come over to watch.

  The pitch of the machine was a high whine now. She thought she heard someone say thirty-two in hushed tones. Right now she really wanted to keep running, like she did in those euphoric dreams: racing and leaping, never wanting to stop.

  “Man, you’ve got stamina,” Charles said when she finally came off. “Did you run marathons or something?”

  “Ha!” she said. “I wish.”

  But she was pleased by his compliment. I like myself better like this. The moment she had the thought, she realized how crazy it sounded. But it was true. She liked this new healthier, stronger version of herself.

  She glanced down at the sneakers they’d given her to wear. The toes of both were ripped apart by her claws. When she looked up, Charles was watching her. He wasn’t looking at her claws; he was looking at her. On the treadmill, she’d assumed he was just talkative and friendly. But this look was different. Quickly his eyes flicked away. Heat bloomed in her cheeks.

  A White Coat came up and dropped new pairs of sneakers in front of them.

  “L2 and L9. Your turn for tire jumps.”

  She was told to stand in front of two stacked tires and jump straight up onto them. The first time was easy. Each time she succeeded, they added another tire.

  “You’re good at this,” Charles said as they both stood atop their tire piles. He brushed away his damp hair.

  “You too.”

  From up high she could see the entire windowless gym. With huge relief she s
potted Petra and Seth. It was amazing how vulnerable she’d felt, being separated from them.

  Charles topped out at four foot nine. Anaya kept going. Paul and Ritter had come over to watch.

  “Go, L9!” Charles shouted out, and was told to be quiet by a guard.

  She couldn’t make the last tire, even after three tries. The White Coats took notes, their faces neutral. She was given a towel and a bottle of water.

  “You did five four!” Charles told her. “You know what the world record is?”

  “No.”

  “Five four. You just set it.”

  She grinned. “How do you even know that?”

  “I spend way too much time reading Guinness World Records. Seriously, the old one was five three. You beat it!”

  Dr. Ritter came up, his dead eyes regarding her. In his unnerving, chewy voice he said, “You’re going to be extremely useful to us.”

  Chapter Five

  “THEY’RE TRAINING US TO be soldiers,” Darren said.

  Petra frowned at him across the cafeteria table. “Did someone tell you that?”

  “No, but isn’t it obvious?”

  He lifted his hands and raised his eyebrows, like only a moron could disagree. Petra wished he’d go away. He was nice to look at, but he was also a little annoying—mostly because she wanted to be alone with Anaya and Seth. Right now, she wanted it to be just the three of them.

  But Darren had made that impossible. He’d glommed onto her as they’d been escorted from the gym to the cafeteria. Seth had already been sitting at an out-of-the-way table and had not looked thrilled to see Darren. And moments later, Anaya had headed over with a scruffy kid called Charles, a runner. He looked a bit like the main kid in that series about lunatic gamers who never shaved or slept and only drank energy drinks.

  So much for just the three of them.

  The cafeteria smelled of old socks and greasy, long-ago meals. It made Petra feel both disgusted and hungry. The floor was alternating white and blue linoleum tiles. There were chrome-sided tables and lime-green chairs. The pink walls had faded posters of forests and mountains—maybe to make people forget there were no windows or fresh air.

  At one end of the cafeteria was a little recreation area with shelves of books and board games, and some exercise machines. A few kids were playing foosball. Someone else was pedaling a stationary bike. No TV, no computers. No Wi-Fi. Obviously.

  “I’m telling you,” Darren was saying, “they’ve been drilling us here since day one. Laps. Tests. That’s training.”

  “They’re just studying us,” Petra said. “They want to know what we’re capable of.”

  “Think they can hear us with those?” Seth asked quietly, nodding at one of the security cameras mounted near the ceiling.

  “Doubt it,” Charles said. “This place was never meant to be a prison. And from what I’ve seen, it’s very low-tech.”

  “Petra’s right,” Seth said. “They want to know what they’ll have to fight one day. They’re scared of us.”

  To make his point, he lifted his arms, which were now in casts. Petra had watched them doing it in the gym before they left. The White Coats had sleeved and plastered all the flyers’ arms, wrist to shoulder, with a bendable joint at the elbow.

  “They’re being cautious,” Darren said, nodding at Seth’s casts. “Those feathers are super sharp. But Dr. Ritter knows we’re not the enemy.”

  Petra saw Seth’s eyes stray across the room and followed his gaze to a flyer sitting by herself. Petra recognized her now: she was the hybrid in the video Dr. Weber had shown them.

  “Also, they need us, right?” Darren said. “Look what we can do.” To Anaya and Charles he said, “You guys run and jump like freaking kangaroos. And you,” he said to Seth, “your wings. Man! Those feathers can cut through anything.” He turned back to her. “And you and me. We can swim in that acid water you’re talking about. We’re like underwater ninjas. They totally need us. We’re elite forces!”

  For emphasis, Darren leaned forward so his biceps hardened. Petra noticed that he seemed to pick a lot of positions where his muscles flexed. She hated that she always looked.

  “Darren, they think we’re spies,” Anaya said. “They’re not going to give us weapons. They’d never trust us.”

  “But maybe we can make them,” Petra said. “Trust us, I mean.”

  Anaya looked at her in astonishment. “You want to be a soldier?”

  “Of course not! And you don’t have to bite my head off. All I’m saying is, maybe if we just . . . cooperate, and do what they tell us, and answer all their questions and whatever, they won’t think we’re the enemy.”

  “They don’t even think we’re human,” Seth reminded her. “Ritter said that to me!”

  “Never said that to me.” Darren smirked.

  “They’ve been pretty good to us so far,” Charles said. “Feeding us, keeping us safe.”

  “Good point,” said Petra.

  She’d been watching Charles. At first she’d thought he was a weird loner who latched onto new kids, but then she realized he was an admirer—of Anaya. His eyes were fixed on her. This was a first.

  Grudgingly, she had to admit that Anaya was looking very pretty lately. Being a cryptogen hybrid agreed with her. Her skin was luminous, dark eyes bright, hair lustrous. She looked sleek and strong. Petra doubted Charles would be as keen if her face got all hairy. Still, she supposed Charles would get even hairier, so maybe they were made for each other. They could have super-hairy babies.

  To make herself feel better, Petra did her pouty mouth, but Charles didn’t even glance her way. For that matter, neither did Seth, whose eyes kept straying across the cafeteria to Esta. At least Darren noticed her pouty mouth.

  “All I know,” Darren was saying, “is that Ritter saved my life.”

  “What?” Petra said in surprise.

  “Back in Austin, I fell into a pit plant,” Darren said. “And I couldn’t get out. It was super deep, and I was inside for, like, almost a whole day. Clothes and shoes all burned away.”

  Petra winced, not even wanting to imagine it.

  “I thought I was going to die in there, but then I hear some voices, and I shout, and these two huge guys manage to cut the thing open. They drag me out, and I’m all naked and covered in acid, but absolutely fine. Then they see my tail and freak out big-time. They lock me in their trunk!”

  “They locked you in their trunk?” she said.

  “They thought I was an alien! Anyway, I can hear them talking about getting rid of me. And then we drive for a long time, and I’m thinking, Great, I was going to die in a pit plant and now I’m going to die in a trunk. But after a while we stop, and it’s quiet. Finally the trunk opens, and Dr. Ritter’s standing there with some soldiers. That’s how I ended up down here.”

  Everyone was quiet for a moment, then Seth said, “Well, that’s a beautiful story, Darren.” His sarcasm was obvious. “Doesn’t make him a good guy, though.”

  “And what makes him a bad guy?”

  “We are in numbered jumpsuits, Darren,” Anaya said. “They’re calling us enemies of the state!”

  “If I were running the military,” Charles said, like he was giving a class presentation, “if I were running things—just hear me out on this, okay?—I’d probably do exactly what Ritter’s doing. The cryptogens are obviously planning an invasion of Earth, sending down deadly plants, and now all these new bugs. And then there’s us, these weird-looking hybrids with brain transmitters. For all we know, we might seriously be helping the cryptogens, giving them data without even knowing it. Whatever we’re sending them, I don’t think it’s cookie recipes. If I were Ritter, I’d put us underground and study us, too. Absolutely.”

  Petra had to hand it to Charles. He was pretty persuasive.

  “They dragged us away from our parents and locked us in a bunker!” Anaya said.

  “Yeah, because they’re trying to protect the entire planet!” Petra reminded her.
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  “I don’t get you,” her friend said, looking bewildered. “So you’re okay with what they’re doing to us now? Back on Deadman’s Island you were—”

  “I know,” Petra cut her off. She didn’t need Anaya telling everyone how she’d yelled and cried for her mother as they dragged her away. She took a breath. “I’m just trying to see it their way, from their point of view. I mean, Dr. Weber was studying us, right? Blood tests, MRIs. How’s this so different?”

  “She cared about us,” Anaya retorted.

  “Maybe,” Seth said grimly, “she was helping Pearson and Ritter.”

  “No, she wasn’t,” Anaya protested. “She was only cooperating with them because she had to. She didn’t want this for us!”

  “They’re never letting us out of here,” Seth said.

  “Do you have any evidence to support that?” Charles inquired.

  Petra rolled her eyes. Charles was getting a little tedious now. He’d probably been captain of his debating team.

  “Best-case scenario,” Seth said, “the army beats back all the plants and everything else. Maybe we even help fight the cryptogens ourselves, just like Darren says. Brave child soldiers. Yay! We won. You think people are going to accept us afterward? You think they’re going to thank us for our service and put us in Coca-Cola commercials? They will never accept us. They will never trust us. We spend the rest of our lives down here. And that’s the best-case scenario.”

  “You have a very negative worldview,” Charles said to Seth.

  Seth shrugged. “Hasn’t disappointed me so far.”

  To Petra he seemed to be retreating behind his eyes. It scared her. She wanted to say something to change his mind and bring him back to them. To her.

  Across the room someone shouted, “Dinner!” At the far end of the cafeteria was a long metal tray slide, but the serving area had been walled over, except for a small hatch, which was now open. Someone on the other side pushed trays out along the slide.

  “L’s first!” the invisible server bellowed.

  “That’s us,” Charles said to Anaya.

  “Is it really gross?” Petra asked.

  “Actually, it’s pretty good,” Charles said, and to Anaya added, “They know all about our allergies. We can eat everything.”