Hatch

by Kenneth Oppel

  Instantly Seth stopped himself, cleared that terrifying vibration from his head. Such power.

  There was shouting and a guard crowding in on him with a Taser. He heard a crisp pop and his body was suddenly not his own, just a big spasm of pain and darkness.

  Chapter Ten

  WHEN DARREN FELL INTO step beside her in the gym, Petra ignored him.

  —I’m sor— he began to say silently, but she put on a burst of speed and left him behind.

  She looked around the gym. If Darren was back, Seth should be back, too. Neither of them had been at breakfast, so maybe they’d only just been released by Ritter. Seth would be along in a few minutes.

  Last night, in the dorm, Esta had been talking to him silently. It irked Petra that she was the one talking to him—but she didn’t have the range to reach him, and anyway, she was just so grateful to find out he was okay. Last she’d heard, he was still locked up in a solitary cell on Level 300, waiting for someone to come question him. And then she’d fallen asleep.

  This morning, when Esta had tried to reach him, she couldn’t. Which freaked Petra out. Terrible explanations had filled her head. But maybe he was just asleep or, as Anaya had said, he’d been moved to a different level. No way even Esta’s telepathy could penetrate two thick concrete floors. This place was built to withstand a nuclear hit. Still, Petra wondered, why had Seth been moved?

  —Seth, she called silently. Seth!

  No reply, like all the other times she’d tried this morning. She wished she was better at silent talking.

  Darren caught up with her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, aloud this time. “The things I said. I was a creep.”

  An apology was something she hadn’t expected, but her anger was a long way from being spent. She didn’t know Darren well enough to tell if he was genuinely sorry or merely good at faking it.

  “You know where Seth is?” she demanded.

  “He’s not here?” Darren seemed truly surprised. “I mean, he shouldn’t be here because the guy’s dangerous. It was like someone gouging a hook into my—”

  “What exactly did you tell them?”

  He looked at her like the answer was obvious. “I told them what happened.”

  “Which was what?”

  “You saw, you know what happened! Seth did something in my head.”

  She was starting to get seriously worried now. “You told Ritter that?”

  “Why d’you look so angry? I thought you wanted to tell them everything!”

  “Yeah, but it wasn’t Seth who did that to you. It was Esta!”

  She saw his eyes skitter around the gym, trying to find the other girl. “She can do it, too? Holy crap, can all the flyers do it?”

  She broke away from Darren and headed across the gym toward Paul, who was observing some swimmers getting their acid test.

  She glimpsed Anaya, pounding away on the elliptical machine, probably breaking a new world record. Last night in the dorm, Anaya had tried to convince her to escape with them. She’d been tempted—of course she’d been tempted—but she didn’t buy that Ritter and Paul were monsters.

  What she did know was that there were real monsters waiting for them outside, and it made way more sense to stick it out down here. And yes, she wanted her tail removed, and what was wrong with that? Was it so unreasonable? Selfish? No. She could tell Anaya wanted her hair and claws removed, too. She’d caught her enough times sighing at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

  When she passed the glide platform, she saw Esta at the top. The girl’s eyes tracked her suspiciously. Petra didn’t care.

  When she reached Paul, she wasted no time.

  “It wasn’t Seth,” she said.

  Paul glanced at her, surprised, and for a second she wondered if she’d made a big mistake. She caught a whiff of Paul’s shampoo, her dad’s shampoo, and tried to calm herself. She wasn’t giving anything away. Darren had already told them about the pain inside his head—he’d just gotten the details wrong.

  Why should Seth take the blame for what Esta had done? Seth would never hurt someone. He was too gentle. But she was genuinely afraid of Esta. That girl was boiling with anger. Who else would she hurt?

  Paul told the White Coats he’d be back in a second and walked off a few steps with her. Now they could talk in private. Shouts echoed around the gym. Shoes pounded and squeaked.

  “It was Esta,” Petra said quietly. “She hurt Darren with sound. It’s this weird thing she can do.”

  Paul nodded calmly. “Can the rest of you do it?”

  “No,” she said. “You’re going to let Seth go, right?”

  “Listen to me carefully,” Paul said. His gaze roamed across the gym, and Petra wondered if he was making sure Ritter wasn’t in the room. “None of you are safe here.”

  Heart galloping, she tried to speak, but her tongue was glued to the roof of her parched mouth.

  “He’s planning new procedures,” Paul said. “I’ve been in touch with Dr. Weber. I’m trying to help get you kids out.”

  “When?” she managed to say.

  “I need a little more time.”

  “What about Seth?” she whispered, trying to stop her voice from shaking.

  “He’s been moved upstairs for a procedure.”

  “What procedure?”

  At that moment, the gym doors opened and Ritter entered with half a dozen guards.

  Paul was already walking away from her.

  “I NEED SEVERAL OF you for a new test,” Ritter said from the gymnasium door.

  Anaya watched the guards fan out on either side of him. This was not a good sign. What kind of new test was this?

  “Come forward as you’re called.” In his meaty hand was a slip of paper. He read out a list of ID numbers.

  Darren, Charles, Siena, Vincent, Esta.

  And her.

  “Follow me,” Ritter said.

  Anaya cut a look at Charles, and they both headed toward the door. What choice did they have? Ritter waited for them, regarding them with his impassive doll’s eyes.

  “Where’s Seth?” she asked him.

  She’d been worried sick about him, watching the cafeteria doorway all through breakfast, then the gym doorway. Only Darren had come through it.

  “A4 is cooling down,” Ritter said, chewing through his words. “I won’t tolerate violence.”

  She looked coldly at Darren. He was the one who’d started the fight, so why was he back?

  Late into the night she and Esta had discussed escape plans. Before they fell asleep, they had one that felt pretty solid. But without Seth, their plan was pointless. They couldn’t leave without him.

  And how could they leave without Petra? Their entire friendship, Petra was always the one to talk her way out of things, to bend and kick against rules and grown-ups, especially her RCMP mom. It was so weird that now she wanted to do what she was told—by Ritter of all people! She’d tried to change Petra’s mind but failed. Their little group, she and Petra and Seth, was falling apart, and it made her heavy with sadness—and fear. Where was Seth now, and what were they doing to him?

  She was about to start silently grilling Darren when suddenly Petra’s voice blared in her head:

  —They’re going to do something to Seth!

  Involuntarily she looked back into the gym, just as the cafeteria doors slammed shut behind her.

  —Petra, how do you know?

  —Paul told me. He said—

  —Why were you talking to Paul?

  What had Petra done now? Distractedly she fell into step with Charles, Darren, and the other hybrids as they were escorted down the corridor, flanked by guards.

  —He’s going to help us get out, but—

  —Petra, from the beginning, please!

  She turned a corner and Petra’s words began to crackle. She heard her say Seth had been moved upstairs for a procedure, but she didn’t know what kind of procedure—and then her voice decomposed altogether.

&n
bsp; —Petra, I can’t hear you! Petra?

  A few more shards of words sparked in her head, but she couldn’t make sense of them. All she picked up was their fear and urgency.

  —They’re going to do something to Seth, Anaya told Esta.

  —Cut off his feathers? the other girl asked silently.

  —Don’t know.

  —I’ll kill anyone who hurts him.

  Startled, she looked over. The viciousness in Esta’s expression made her believe the girl was deadly serious.

  The guards pushed open a set of fire doors, and Anaya was back in the familiar stairwell she’d taken on her way to the antenna farm. The same evil, stale smell wafted up from Level 100.

  To her surprise, this time Ritter began descending.

  Anaya fought back a shiver in the dank air.

  Vault. Machine room. Morgue.

  “Where are we going?” she dared to ask.

  Ritter gave no answer. She glanced over at Esta, could see the fear and anger in the girl’s face.

  —Don’t do anything, Anaya told her. Wait.

  At the bottom of the stairwell, the guards pushed through the doors and continued down a long corridor lit by fluorescent tubes. At the very end a bunch of waiting White Coats stood before a huge metal door. It had multiple spoked wheels and a complicated system of levers.

  Charles leaned closer. “I read about this. All these bunkers had vaults for the Federal Reserve Bank. It’s where they’d store the gold reserves. In case the world got nuked.”

  “Because gold’s so useful in the apocalypse,” Anaya muttered.

  “Open it up,” Ritter told the White Coats.

  With a gust of stale air, the vault door swung open.

  “Inside,” Ritter said, and led the way, pushing past a heavy plastic curtain.

  Reluctantly she followed. The vault was vast, with four mighty pillars supporting a concrete ceiling snaked with wires and pipes. Shadows pooled around the tops of the pillars. She didn’t see any other apparatus in the room. What kind of tests were they supposed to be doing in here?

  “What’s remarkable about all of you,” Ritter began, pacing near the doorway, “well, I should say, one of the many remarkable things—is your immunity to the enzymes and toxins produced by the cryptogenic plants.”

  —Why do we need to be all the way down here to hear this? Anaya asked Esta.

  —Thinking the same thing, the other girl replied.

  “Many of you have been asking what’s going on topside,” Ritter continued, his fleshy hands playing chords on his trousers. “And I must tell you, the news is dire. We have a new guest on the planet.”

  “Only one?” Anaya asked, thinking of the terrarium on Deadman’s Island.

  “Is it one of those winged things?” Charles asked. “The bloodsuckers?”

  Ritter stretched his mouth into a smile. “You’ve been getting updates from the new arrivals, I know. And yes, they are winged. And they seem to drink blood, certainly, but that’s not what makes them so dangerous. They produce a very harmful virus. My assumption, though, is that all of you will be immune.”

  With that, he turned and pushed his way out through the plastic curtain.

  “Hey!” Anaya started running for the vault door. Guards were already pushing the huge thing shut. It had an unstoppable momentum, and before she was even halfway there, it pounded closed with an ear-popping thud.

  “Freaking maniac!” she cried.

  “What’s that noise?” Charles said.

  It sounded like crickets. Anaya listened and tracked it to a long metal box hanging from the ceiling. With a whirring noise, a panel slid open. Something darted out, too fast for her to focus on. More things flitted into the shadows.

  “There’s lots of them!” she said.

  Vincent ran past her and pounded on the vault door.

  “Let us out of here!”

  “Give it up!” Esta shouted. “He’s not letting us out.”

  Anaya looked around the vault for a weapon, but the floor was bare. Her heartbeat pounded in every part of her body.

  “Why’s he doing this?” Darren said. “Why’d he risk making us sick?”

  “We’re not soldiers, Darren,” Esta said. “We’re lab rats.”

  “He wants to see what these things do to us,” Charles said, pushing hair out of his nervous eyes.

  “Stay together,” Anaya said, and they turned their backs to each other. “Vincent, get over here!”

  He wouldn’t come. He’d squeezed himself between the plastic curtain and the door, hoping for protection.

  “Wish I had my arms free,” muttered Esta.

  Anaya wished all three of the flyers did. Their feathers would come in handy right now. She looked at her hands. She at least had claws.

  Esta said to Darren sarcastically, “You’re going to get to do some fighting.”

  “I’m ready.” Eyes fixed on the ceiling, he stood, legs and arms wide, his tail lifted. In the dim light Anaya saw liquid glint on the tail’s pointed tip.

  From the ceiling came a creaky little song, like a dozen rusty hinges being nudged. Something darted down, sparrow-sized. Mauve light refracted through its translucent wings. Then it was gone, back into the shadow.

  In a blur it came again and was suddenly on her arm, all vibrating shell and membrane—and a long, needle-like proboscis. She felt the weight of it on her skin, the prick of its skinny legs. The proboscis twitched, ready to pierce her flesh. She yelled and punched it off. Had she even hit it? It zipped back up into the air.

  More of the things came flashing down. Their speed alone was frightening, the way they twitched and turned in the air. And the thought of them on your skin. Feeding on you.

  Everyone ran, breaking apart their little group.

  Anaya lashed out with her clawed hands, raking her jumpsuit and own skin to clear the things off her. She caught a glimpse of Siena and Esta swinging their plastered arms like baseball bats. Esta connected with a wet smack, splattering one of the creatures against a pillar. Darren was trying to punch them out of the air. His tail swayed and struck out like a snake, but never fast enough.

  She saw Charles back up against a pillar, and that turned out to be the worst place, because three or four of the things dropped straight down on him from the shadowed ceiling. Their wings glittered against his brown jumpsuit.

  Anaya ran to help him, but Darren got there first and hit them until they all flew away.

  “They got me!” Charles said in a strangled voice. “Look, I got bitten!”

  He pointed to a small red puncture mark in the soft flesh of his neck.

  “It’s okay,” Anaya said automatically, having no idea if it was true.

  No time to think, because there were more now, darting around her face and body. She impaled one on her claw and lifted it, twitching, toward her face. She could barely feel its weight. It looked like a strange skeletal bird, a mosquito bird, except there were no feathers, no beak, no eyes, and no blood. It was definitely an insect, leaking a mucus-like fluid down over her hand.

  Before she could flick it off her claw, it jerked its head and, in the blink of an eye, sank its needle-thin proboscis into the skin between her fingers. The needle filled with red before she flung the thing to the ground and stamped on it.

  Bitten. She’d been bitten now, too.

  Her eyes locked with Charles’s, and a current of shared horror arced between them. What was going to happen? Beside her, Darren was still lashing out at a swarm of mosquito birds, oblivious to the three that had landed on his back.

  “Darren!” she cried, and rushed to knock them off.

  Not fast enough. Two mosquito birds plunged their needles through the fabric of his jumpsuit, then flickered up and away.

  “Did they get me?” Darren said, whirling, his face wild. “Did they?”

  Across the room came a cry of despair, and Anaya saw Vincent cowering behind the plastic curtain, trying to smack off the mosquito birds that had slippe
d in with him. He burst out through the curtain.

  “They got me!”

  “They got all of us,” Esta said, scratching her neck.

  “They got me on the hands,” Siena said.

  They’d all instinctively drawn together. Anaya kept her gaze on the ceiling, where the mosquito birds darted excitedly, making creaky noises.

  “It’s like they’re communicating,” she murmured.

  “Why aren’t they coming back for more?” Darren asked.

  “Maybe because they’ve had enough blood,” said Esta.

  “Maybe it’s not our blood they really want,” said Charles.

  “What, then?” asked Siena.

  “Maybe they want to put something into us.”

  “Are we infected, for sure?” Vincent said. “I think they only got me once.”

  “What’ll happen if we are?” Siena asked.

  For the first time, Anaya noticed the four security cameras mounted high in the corners of the room.

  “They’ve been watching us,” she said.

  As if on cue, the vault door swung open.

  “Come out now,” Ritter called. “Quickly.”

  She started running with the others but stopped when she heard a pattering sound behind her. On the floor was one of the mosquito birds, wings askew. From the ceiling, another one spiraled down listlessly, wings trembling but not beating properly. It hit the floor, making hardly more sound than a falling leaf.

  “Are they dead?” she asked.

  A third and a fourth mosquito bird fluttered down lifelessly.

  “Come on,” Charles said, grabbing her and tugging her toward the door. “Let’s get out of here!”

  WHEN SETH WOKE UP, blind, it took him a few panicked seconds to realize there was a hood over his head. He tried to move his hands, but they were tied to the bedsides. Ankles, too.

  “Hey!” he shouted.

  He remembered what had happened in the cell with Ritter and cursed himself. Why couldn’t he have held out a little longer? At worst he would’ve lost a couple of feathers. And Ritter wouldn’t have known their secret. But in his panic, he’d struck with sound. And if Ritter knew he could do it, he’d instantly suspect Esta and the other flyers.