Hatch

by Kenneth Oppel

“Why would he punish the runners and swimmers?” Darren demanded. “Seems like it’s only the flyers who want to rule the world. I mean, maybe it makes sense to lock you guys up, but—”

  “Darren, cut it out,” said Anaya.

  She could practically feel the heat of everyone’s anger and anxiety. She wanted to cool things down.

  “I can’t believe you ratted us out,” Esta was saying to Petra. “It shows where your priorities are.”

  “Trying to help beat the cryptogens?” Petra retorted. “Um, yeah, that’s where my priorities are!”

  “More like saving your own neck and getting first in line for cosmetic surgery.”

  “This is not cosmetic surgery, Esta! Maybe you’re happy being a freak, but I’m not! I’ve seen you in the gym. You like ripping apart those dummies with your wings.”

  “Petra, stop!” Anaya said, loud enough so that a few kids sitting nearby turned.

  An uneasy silence fell over the table. After a few moments, Seth leaned in and very quietly said:

  “We need to escape.”

  The mere sound of the word escape made Anaya’s pulse quicken.

  “You’re crazy,” said Petra. “Say we do break out somehow—then what? We don’t know where we are. We could be thousands of miles from anywhere.”

  Anaya shook her head. “No. We’re close to an airport. When I was outside, I heard a plane.”

  “Okay, fine,” Petra said. “We’re close to a city, whoopie. No one’s going to be happy to see a bunch of kids with fur and feathers and tails. We’re crypto scum. They’ll just bring us right back here. If we don’t get strangled by plants first. Or eaten by giant bugs.”

  “It sounds like a monster movie up there,” Charles agreed. “Down here still seems like the best bet.”

  “Anyway,” said Petra, “if we get caught trying to escape, things would get worse for us.”

  “Things are going to get worse for us anyway,” Seth said. “Can’t you see that? They’re going to start chopping off parts of us.”

  “Parts I don’t want,” said Petra.

  “Seth’s right,” Anaya said. “We need to get out of here.”

  Ritter had said the surgery was voluntary, but why would she believe him? He could do anything he wanted to them down here. No one would know. No one would care, especially not with the entire world being torn apart.

  And she desperately wanted to be outside again, not only to find Mom and Dad and Dr. Weber, but to talk to her cryptogen again. There was more to learn, so many questions that needed answering.

  “I’m staying put,” Darren said.

  “Seth,” said Petra. Her tone was calmer now, and Anaya saw the pleading in her eyes. “Stay here, okay? Nothing good is going to happen outside.”

  “Nothing good’s going to happen down here,” said Esta. “Especially with you informing on us.”

  Anaya saw Petra start to speak, then falter. Her heart went out to her. Probably she’d thought she was doing the right thing. She was about to say so when she tasted Esta’s electric words in her head:

  —I think we know where everyone stands.

  —It’s just the three of us, Seth said, his words smelling like rain on hot asphalt.

  Anaya could tell that Petra was not being included in this conversation.

  —You’re not being fair, she said. We need to convince Petra. The others, too.

  She was aware of Petra watching with a disgusted shake of her head.

  “I know you guys are talking about me. Very mature. Just ghost me.”

  —She’s made her choice, said Esta, and her words carried more voltage than usual.

  —We need to make plans, Seth said.

  —And we need to keep them secret, added Esta.

  PETRA PEDALED ON THE stationary bike, going nowhere, fuming.

  How could Seth and Anaya do that to her?

  They’d cut her out of the conversation. Really, she should be blaming Esta. It was probably her telling them what to do. But why were they letting her? Neither of them made a peep when Esta basically called her a traitor to her face.

  She pedaled harder, feeling her tail curl and uncurl restlessly. She wasn’t sorry she’d told Ritter. It was the right thing to do. And now her friends were giving her the silent treatment, just because she thought staying in the bunker was the best option.

  She worried she might start to cry. When she’d stormed away from the table, Anaya hadn’t even come after her. Some friend. Well, Anaya had been disloyal before; this was nothing new. She glanced across the cafeteria at their little clique. Probably trash-talking her—or worse, not talking about her at all.

  —Hey.

  Startled, she looked over to see Darren wearing a very self-satisfied grin. He’d figured out telepathy.

  —You’re blushing, he said.

  It was involuntary and she hated it. It was the sheer surprise of having a new person suddenly inside her head. She didn’t want him to think she had a crush on him—though he was conceited enough to assume it. She wrinkled her nostrils. The briny smell of his silent words was pungent, almost too intense. And it made her wonder about her own telepathic scent. A beach at low tide, Seth had said. She hoped it was a nicer beach than Darren’s.

  —Charles and I figured it out together, he said. Wild, huh?

  —We’re just crazy-fun aliens, Darren.

  She didn’t like having him inside her head—he was like an uninvited guest in her bedroom. Probably there was some way of blocking him, but right now she was grateful someone was talking to her. She watched him doing biceps curls with the free weights. As if his arms weren’t big enough already.

  —They’re nuts if they think they can escape this place, Darren said. They’ll never make it out.

  She resented that Darren’s silent voice came through so clearly, much clearer than Anaya’s or Seth’s did. But she supposed it was because she and Darren were the same kind of hybrid. Lucky her.

  —It’s weird, he said, that the flyers are the rulers on their own planet.

  —Why?

  —They’re kind of spindly. Without wings, they wouldn’t be so special.

  Typical Darren: reduce everything to a shoving match.

  —Anaya said they had some kind of weapon that crushes everything.

  —They are so up on themselves, he said. I figure I could take them.

  —No doubt.

  Seth walked over and reclined on the bench press machine. He grabbed the handles and started pushing.

  —You all right? he asked her.

  His words seemed sincere, but she ignored him. She was still too angry.

  —Petra, I want you to come with us, he said.

  Her heart softened. The idea of Anaya and Seth leaving without her was like staring into a bottomless pit. The three of them belonged together. Come with us, he’d said. But us meant something different now. It meant Esta, too.

  Petra didn’t feel like being added on, maybe out of pity. Did Esta even know Seth was talking to her right now? Or maybe she’d sent him over to find out if she really was a spy.

  Darren barged into her head again.

  —Know what else I noticed? I counted all the kids and there’s an equal number of guys and girls. You think it’s a coincidence?

  She shrugged. What did it matter?

  —Everyone’s paired up, he went on. It’s like some kind of alien mating program.

  —That’s creepy, Darren.

  When she scowled at him, he winked back, then silently said something that made her blush again, this time with shock.

  —Knock it off, Darren. Not interested.

  —Come on, a little birthday kiss—

  He added something so graphic that her hands flew to her ears, trying to block him out.

  “Shut up, Darren!” she said aloud. Her tail, unbidden, had lifted aggressively to her left side. She saw it had the same barbed end as Darren’s.

  On the bench press, Seth sat up. He looked from her to Darren an
d seemed to understand instantly what was going on.

  “Hey, Darren, whatever you’re saying, she doesn’t like it.”

  Darren swaggered over to the bench press and stood looming over Seth.

  “Still on the little weights, huh?” He reached past Seth’s head, pulled out the pin, and slotted it under a much heavier weight. “Why don’t you try lifting something real?”

  Seth craned his neck around to see where the pin was set.

  Darren smirked. “Can’t handle it, huh?”

  Seth removed the pin and moved it to an even greater weight. He lay back and, as Petra watched in amazement, did eight smooth presses, his breathing nice and calm.

  Then he stood and said to Darren, “You want to try?”

  Darren shrugged and sat down. He gripped the bars, took a couple of big puffs, and pushed. He couldn’t do even one full press. He let the weights slam down, his face red.

  “No way you did that,” he muttered, jiggling the pin to see if there was something tricky with it.

  “You know how I did it, Darren?” asked Seth. He thumped the center of his chest with his fist. “Flight muscles. Right here. Birds have them to power their wings.” He inhaled deeply, and Petra watched his chest swell against his jumpsuit. He’d always had a weirdly large chest for such a skinny guy, but now it looked big and muscular. When had this happened?

  “Which means, Darren,” Seth said, “I can bench-press way more than you. Which means, Darren, you should shut up when I tell you.”

  Worriedly Petra watched Darren for his reaction. This was not a good idea, what Seth was doing. Surprisingly, Darren grinned. He actually looked happy, like someone had just said yes to him. He stood, took a step toward Seth, and with one hand shoved him backward.

  Seth stumbled over a barbell and went down, smacking his head hard against the weight rack.

  “Darren!” she cried. “You jerk!”

  Seth stood. The only time he’d looked anywhere close to this angry was when her own dad had suggested clipping his feathers. He swung and whacked Darren across the head with his plastered right arm. Darren staggered, then threw himself at Seth’s skinny legs. Toppled off balance, Seth hit the floor again. At once Darren was astride his chest, knees pinning Seth’s arms.

  “Maybe I break those freaky feathered arms of yours, huh?”

  “Darren, stop it!” cried Esta, rushing over with Anaya.

  Darren snatched up a nearby barbell and smacked it down on Seth’s forearm. Petra gave a shriek when she heard the crack. But it wasn’t bone, only the cast. Five sharp feathers sprang through the gap in the plaster.

  Seth struck out. Darren swore and scuttled off him. Seth got to his feet and took another swipe at Darren, slicing through his jumpsuit.

  Darren grabbed a barbell and threw it at Seth. It hit him in the chest, and he doubled over, gasping. Darren marched closer, another barbell gripped threateningly near his shoulder.

  And then suddenly he faltered, wincing. The barbell dropped from his hand, and he pushed his fingertips against his temple. Unsteadily he sank to the floor, eyes crinkled shut.

  “Stop!” he grunted. “Please, stop it!”

  Petra saw Seth frown in confusion, and when she looked at Esta, the girl was glaring at Darren with such fury that Petra felt scared of her.

  Then Esta gave a little gasp and stepped back, looking surprised. Her face went pale.

  Petra heard shouts and turned as four guards rushed into the cafeteria. Two of them hoisted Darren to his feet, manacled his hands, and marched him toward the doors.

  “What’d you do to me?” Darren called back at Seth. “You freak!”

  Petra knew by the look on Seth’s face that he hadn’t done anything. The two remaining guards had their Tasers drawn on Seth, looking at the sharp feathers of his right arm.

  “Hands behind your back,” one of them barked.

  Seth did as he was told.

  “He didn’t do anything!” Petra shouted, then watched helplessly as he was marched out of the cafeteria.

  “WHY DID YOU TWO fight?” Dr. Ritter asked.

  Sitting on the bench, his back against the wall, Seth looked up at Paul and Ritter. They’d kept him waiting a good long time in the holding cell, his arms manacled behind his back. He could tell he had a huge bruise on his chest from where Darren’s barbell had hit him. It hurt to move, or to breathe too deeply. But he’d had plenty of time to talk silently to Esta and figure out what was going on.

  —It was me, she’d told him shortly after he was thrown in the cell. I did that to Darren.

  —How?

  —It just happened. I was really angry, and silently shouting at him to stop, and it was like my words got hotter and pointier, and I felt something shoot out of me, and that’s when he grabbed his head.

  “Why did you fight?” Ritter asked him again.

  “It was stupid,” Seth replied. “We were lifting weights and we started trash-talking each other. It got out of hand. It’s no big deal.”

  Early on in life, he’d learned that snitching on people rarely made things better. Mostly it made people hate you more.

  Ritter regarded him with his pouchy eyes. “Darren says you did something to his head. Got inside and made it hurt.”

  “Yeah, right.” Seth sniffed, and hoped his response seemed genuine.

  He’d figured Darren would tell. Ritter already knew about the telepathy, thanks to Petra, but this sound thing, this weapon, was something new. All Ritter had right now, though, was Darren’s word.

  “Described it like being stabbed in the brain,” Ritter said. “It doesn’t seem impossible, considering you have a powerful transmitter in your head.”

  Seth willed himself not to look away, not to sweat.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t do anything,” he said truthfully.

  —It was like making sound in his head, Esta had explained to him earlier. A really destructive noise. If I can do it, you can do it.

  The thought startled, then frightened him.

  —Who else knows? he asked.

  —Petra. I could tell. So I told her, and Anaya, too.

  —Can they do it? he asked hopefully. He didn’t want to be the only one; it made the flyers seem more like monsters.

  —No. They both tried.

  —Maybe you need to be really angry, he suggested. For it to work.

  —Oh, I think Petra was plenty angry. She’d love to hurt me.

  —Don’t say that about her.

  —Only we can do it. The flyers. It’s just for us.

  —Have you told Vincent and Siena? he asked.

  —Not yet. But I will. When we escape.

  “If I had that kind of power,” Ritter was saying now, scratching at his fleshy cheek, “and I were at risk, I’d be very tempted to use it.”

  “Well,” Seth said reasonably, “did Darren do it to you guys?”

  “We asked him to,” said Paul, “but he claimed he couldn’t.”

  Seth lifted his eyebrows like this proved his point.

  “But maybe you can,” Ritter said.

  “I can’t! Because it’s not a thing. Darren’s messing with you.”

  He told himself: Don’t blink, don’t look away, don’t sweat.

  Paul said, “I think we’re done here, Dr. Ritter. Shall I have the guard escort him back—”

  “Not yet,” said Ritter.

  Seth caught the surprise on Paul’s face as Ritter went to the door and opened it. A White Coat carried in a metal chair with a low back.

  “Sit here,” Ritter told Seth.

  Warily he went to the chair and stood in front of it.

  “Why?” he asked.

  Seth winced as Ritter pushed him backward into the chair. The pressure of the man’s fingers against his bruised chest was like a brand. Seth felt his temper heating.

  “Arms over the backrest,” the White Coat told him, and then produced a roll of duct tape and wrapped several loops around his wrists and the chair back. His fe
athers jutted through the cracked cast.

  “Maybe you just need to be properly motivated,” Ritter said.

  Seth couldn’t tear his eyes away from the shiny silver instrument that Ritter now held so casually in his meaty hand.

  “These are actually bone cutters,” Ritter said. “They’ll have no trouble cutting through the shaft of your feathers. It will be painless.”

  Seth bucked against the chair, but the White Coat pressed down hard on his shoulders, and the guards stepped closer, their Tasers drawn.

  “Dr. Ritter—” Paul began, but Ritter spoke over him.

  “Your feathers mean a lot to you, don’t they, Seth?”

  “Stop!” Seth shouted.

  In horror he watched as Ritter opened the curved blades of the cutter and moved toward his exposed feathers.

  “Tell me what you did to Darren.”

  —Don’t tell them anything, Esta had said urgently when they last spoke.

  —Of course I won’t.

  —We need to keep this secret. Anaya and I are making escape plans.

  —I won’t tell them, Seth had promised.

  “I didn’t do anything!” he shouted at Ritter now, craning his neck to watch what was happening. His heart battered his ribs.

  “The feathers are likely still growing,” said Ritter, “so there may be some bleeding, but that’s easily controlled.”

  He was bluffing, Seth told himself desperately. A trick to make him tell the truth. Ritter slipped the cutter’s blades around the base of a long feather.

  “Stop!” Seth shouted.

  “Make me stop,” said Ritter. “Do to me what you did to Darren.”

  “This is torture!” Seth shouted hoarsely.

  Inside his head he discovered a vibration. It appeared as a thin string of light. He could pluck it like a musical instrument. He could play a tune on it. A terrible jagged tune right inside Ritter’s head.

  “Sir!” he heard Paul say. By that one word, Seth knew Paul was horrified by what Ritter was doing.

  “Just going to clip this one feather,” Ritter said.

  Seth couldn’t help it. He plucked that string of light, and its vibration swelled to fill his mind, and he aimed it right at Ritter.

  The bone cutters fell from his fingers, and he staggered back, one hand clamped against his temple, the other held up in front of him, like he was fending off a wild animal.