Hatch

by Kenneth Oppel

  Motionless, it didn’t seem quite so big. Seth felt a strange surge of pride. They’d all worked together to fight this thing, and he’d delivered the killing blow. They were strong.

  “We should eat it,” Esta said.

  Her words surprised him as much as his sudden, intense hunger.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, you want to eat this?” Darren asked.

  Charles shared his look of disgust, but Seth thought he saw confused interest from Siena.

  “We might not find food for a long time,” she said.

  The body looked surprisingly meaty. With her feathers, Esta sliced away the top layer of spiny skin. The flesh underneath was moist and translucent. She ripped off a strip and offered it to Charles, who shook his head, same as Darren. Siena took the piece, gave it a hesitant nibble, swallowed, and started crying. But she didn’t stop eating.

  Seth ate the piece Esta handed him. It was sweet. As he chewed, he felt like the meat was satisfying a hunger he’d never known he had. It tasted right.

  He couldn’t believe he’d gone so long without it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “LET’S GET STARTED,” COLONEL Pearson said from the front of the briefing room. Sitting beside him at the table were a couple of other officers and Dr. Weber. “A great deal’s happened while you were detained. I assume you were told very little inside the bunker.”

  “Nothing,” Petra said, sandwiched between her mother and father.

  “Then we have a lot to talk about,” Pearson said.

  —His usual warm and cuddly self, Petra said silently to Anaya.

  —Notice how he said detained, like it was really our fault.

  —I don’t think we’re getting an apology.

  All the other hybrid kids were here as well: showered, fed, their jumpsuits traded in for fresh clothes. Petra felt guilty that she and Anaya were the only ones who had their parents.

  When she’d arrived at the base and caught sight of Mom and Dad, her first instinct wasn’t joy. It was dread. She was afraid of being seen. Afraid of how they’d react. When they hugged her, she knew they were looking at her tail. Her mother ran her fingers over the black-and-gold patterning on her bare arms and said, “Well, you always did want tattoos.” And that made Petra laugh and cry at the same time.

  Her dad was smiling, but it was just a mouth smile. His eyes tried and failed. What was he thinking? That there was nothing of him in her at all? That she’d become truly alien?

  And that had made her think back to all of Seth’s hard words about how the hybrids would never be accepted, never go back to school, never be trusted. What if she weren’t even trusted by her own parents?

  From the front of the room, Colonel Pearson now said, “This base will be your home for the foreseeable future. And your presence here is, and will remain, top-secret. What happened at the bunker was, I believe, improper—”

  “Improper?” Petra heard her mother snap. “That doesn’t even come close!”

  “—but your release from that facility was not authorized.”

  “Neither was what they were doing in that bunker,” Dr. Weber interjected. “I don’t believe the American military command had any idea what Ritter was planning on doing with these children.”

  Children. The word gave Petra a start. When was the last time someone had referred to her as a child? Or she’d thought of herself as one?

  “How many of these detention centers are there?” demanded Anaya’s mother, Lilah Riggs. “How many other children are imprisoned?”

  “I don’t have numbers,” replied the colonel. “All I know is that most countries are rounding up hybrids, and it is completely legal. What we did is not. Our own government knew nothing about our stealth mission, nor did the Americans. We used unmarked helicopters so no one at their facility would have any idea who rescued all of you.”

  “Not all of us,” Petra said. “Seth and a bunch of others got left behind.”

  “Yes. That was regrettable but unavoidable,” said the colonel sternly.

  “You need to go back,” Petra persisted.

  She felt her mother squeeze her hand, a cue to pipe down. But she wasn’t in the mood to pipe down. After what she’d been through, she wouldn’t be shrugged off by Pearson, or any other grown-ups with stern faces, or badges on their suits, or important hats. She didn’t care anymore. She’d trusted them, and they’d betrayed her.

  “We can’t go back,” said Pearson.

  Petra ignored him. “Dr. Weber, you want to get Seth, don’t you? You were going to be his foster mother!”

  She knew she was playing dirty, but she’d use whatever ammo she had. This was Seth. For a moment Dr. Weber said nothing.

  “More than anything, Petra, yes. But the colonel’s right. It’s not possible. Seth could be anywhere by now.”

  “He’s all alone!”

  “He’s probably not alone,” Anaya said.

  She wasn’t sure what was worse: alone, or with Esta. That girl was toxic. And Seth didn’t seem to know it. What would she be telling him? What kind of trouble would they get into?

  “Complicating matters further,” Pearson went on, “is that five personnel were also killed at the bunker. Including Dr. Ritter.”

  Petra’s breakfast shifted greasily in her stomach. She remembered Ritter twitching on the floor, the blood from his ears and nose. So he really was dead. It was Esta, it had to be. She refused to believe Seth could kill someone.

  “You kids left quite a trail of destruction,” Colonel Pearson said.

  —Who else died? she asked Anaya. I can only remember the guy gobbled up by the pit plant. In the cafeteria.

  —A worm swallowed the guard in the escape-hatch room.

  —Oh. Right.

  How could she forget that? That still left two. Maybe the flyers had killed them with their sound weapon. Or—another queasy lurch of her stomach—the guard she’d stung with her tail? Could he have died? Could she be a murderer, just like Esta?

  “I’m sure these kids had nothing to do with those deaths!” insisted Mrs. Riggs.

  Petra kept quiet.

  “They only did what they needed to,” said Mr. Riggs, his voice hoarse with emotion, “to escape with their lives.”

  “My point is this,” Pearson said. “Each and every child here was already considered an enemy of the state. Now they’re considered murderers.”

  “Ridiculous,” said Petra’s dad.

  “That’s how it will be seen. If anyone outside my base discovers you’re here, we all risk imprisonment, myself included.”

  “I think everyone here understands the need for secrecy,” Dr. Weber said. “Now, we have a lot we need to share with you, and I’m sure you have a lot to share with us.”

  You have no idea, Petra thought with a sigh. She’d already shared some things with her parents, but there were others she’d held back, like her poisonous tail, and what she’d done with it. She slumped in her chair and stilled her tail, which was restlessly swishing.

  “I’ll start with some good news,” Dr. Weber began. “The herbicide we developed has been very effective at killing the black grass and the other cryptogenic plants. The whole world is trying to ramp up production.”

  “It’s a constant battle,” Pearson said, less optimistically. “The spray clears away the plants for a while, but then new pollen blows in, roots spread, and we need to spray again. And again. It’s like a sandbag wall against a tsunami. For now, we’ve designated certain areas as Spray Zones. Key roads and rail corridors. Industrial farms. Hospitals. Fuel refineries. Power-generating stations and transmission lines. Vital factories. Water-pumping stations.”

  For the first time, Petra began to realize how many things needed to work to keep the world running. Food to feed cities, and transportation to get it there. Clean water. Electricity.

  “What about Saratoga Springs?” one of the hybrid kids asked. It was Paolo, Petra saw when she turned to check. “Is it in a Spray Zone?”

  P
earson’s brow furrowed. “I’m afraid my knowledge of zones south of the border is—”

  “How about Edmonton?”

  Pearson’s voice was drowned out as, suddenly, all the hybrids in the room were calling out the names of their hometowns.

  —You think Salt Spring is in a Spray Zone? Anaya asked.

  For both of them, the island had been home their entire lives. Petra knew practically everyone by sight, and she wanted them all to be safe.

  —Doubt it. There’s nothing important there.

  —I hope Tereza and Fleetwood are okay, Anaya said.

  Petra shuddered when she remembered how Anaya’s two friends had been trapped inside pit plants beneath the school field.

  —They got taken to a hospital in Vancouver, right? Petra said. So they might still be over here. Probably safer. I bet Salt Spring’s overrun with plants. And bugs.

  “I will try to get answers for you,” Pearson said, his voice raised with impatience. “But all of you here are very lucky to be in a Spray Zone.”

  “And I’m hopeful,” Dr. Weber came in quickly, “that if we can produce a critical mass of herbicide, we’ll be able to reach more of your communities. The goal is a comprehensive, simultaneous spray that will stop the plants permanently. And I know Mike Riggs, Anaya’s father, will be bringing his botanical expertise to help us with that.”

  “But first we’ve got a whole new set of problems,” Pearson said grimly. “The last rain delivered eggs worldwide.”

  “We now have some new cryptogenic species on the planet,” Dr. Weber continued.

  “How many?” Anaya asked.

  “We don’t know yet. You saw the worms last night during the evacuation.”

  “They got inside the bunker,” Petra said.

  Pearson said, “They tend to stay underground. And that’s a problem for us. They’re hard to kill. And they eat through everything. Gas lines, water pipes, concrete, steel. They’re literally eating electrical grids and telecommunications systems. If there’s enough of them, they can eat through the foundation of an office tower and topple it. If we don’t get a handle on these things, they’re going to take us back to the Stone Age.”

  Petra felt a gulping hopelessness. Dr. Weber’s promised good news hadn’t lasted very long and didn’t seem good enough anymore.

  “The other species that’s thriving is a winged insect,” Dr. Weber continued. “The bite itself is trivial. It takes very little blood, but it injects a virus into its prey. Luckily the disease doesn’t spread person to person. You have to be bitten.”

  Glancing out the window of the briefing room, Petra saw the mesh fabric that draped the entire army base like an enormous circus big top. They’d told her it was secure from the mosquito birds. As secure as anything could be these days.

  “If you’re bitten,” Dr. Weber continued, “the mortality rate is quite high.”

  Did she think mortality was a less scary way of saying death?

  “Tens of thousands of people have died worldwide so far,” said Colonel Pearson.

  “We’re immune.”

  Petra looked over at Anaya, who’d blurted out the words. Colonel Pearson leaned forward slightly on his elbows. “How do you know?”

  “Ritter threw a bunch of us into a room with them.”

  Petra shuddered, even though she hadn’t been there.

  “He what?” Mrs. Riggs said, outraged. “Did you get bitten?”

  “We all got bitten,” Anaya said. “And we’re all fine.”

  Petra watched as Mr. and Mrs. Riggs asked if she was sure, touching her arm, her head, her cheek, as if their touches could protect her.

  “Dr. Ritter’s methods were monstrous,” Dr. Weber said, her voice hoarse with anger.

  “He doesn’t even deserve to be called a doctor,” said Petra’s dad.

  “Or a human being,” Mrs. Riggs added savagely.

  “Agreed,” said Dr. Weber. “But the fact that these children are immune is very valuable to us.”

  Anaya said, “You think you can make a vaccine from us, right?”

  Dr. Weber nodded. “Absolutely. If we can isolate the antigen in your blood. It’s going to be a lengthy process. Even if we succeed, we have the problem of producing enough to vaccinate everyone. That’s why we need to start right away.”

  “More tests—yay,” Petra said weakly.

  “But it still doesn’t help us kill these things,” Colonel Pearson said gruffly.

  “I think I might have an idea how to do that,” Anaya said.

  “IN THE VAULT, AFTER we all got bitten,” Anaya said, feeling a pulse of excitement beat through her, “the mosquito bird things started dropping dead on the floor. I’m pretty sure our blood killed them.”

  “You never told me that,” Petra said.

  When had there been time? With everything happening so fast and furious during their escape, she’d barely had time to think about it. It was only in the past few hours that an idea had started to take shape in her mind.

  “I wasn’t sure at first,” she said. “I mean, I wondered if maybe the mosquito birds always died after they stung someone—like bees.”

  “No,” said Dr. Weber. “That hasn’t been reported.”

  “So it must be us,” said Anaya. “Our blood hurts them. And it might be the same with the worms.”

  She told them how, when the worm’s teeth had gashed her hand in the bunker, the worm had flinched.

  “This is incredible stuff,” said Dr. Weber, shaking her head, not in disbelief but in sheer amazement and excitement.

  “So I’m thinking,” said Anaya, “that, sure, you could make a vaccine to stop the mosquito bird virus—but maybe you could also make a pesticide that will kill all the insects. Everything that hatched on our planet.”

  She saw Dr. Weber turn to Colonel Pearson, but he lifted a hand to stop her. His look was almost sheepish.

  “You were right, Dr. Weber, these children are an invaluable resource. I’m glad to have them back here.”

  Anaya was grateful that Pearson had changed his mind, but there was something about his choice of words that gave her a shiver. Invaluable resource. She hoped the colonel—or Dr. Weber, for that matter—didn’t see them merely as useful sacs of chemicals.

  “These kids have been to hell and back,” said Mom. “And you’d better treat them right this time.”

  Mom’s arm had been curved around her since they’d sat down and now gave a protective squeeze. Gratefully Anaya leaned into her. She and Petra were so lucky to have their parents here. When the helicopters had touched down, none of the other kids had had anyone waiting for them—except a bunch of soldiers who, honestly, looked pretty much like the soldiers they’d just escaped from.

  Jumping down onto the helipad, she’d watched the faces of those soldiers. Even though they must’ve been briefed, they couldn’t hide their amazement—and sometimes their disgust—at all the tails and hairy faces and claws. For a second she’d worried that her own parents wouldn’t even recognize her. But they had, right away.

  “I want you all to know that you’re safe here,” Dr. Weber said now. She looked pointedly at Colonel Pearson as she said this, as if binding him to the promise. “The things that Dr. Ritter did, and was planning to do—I would never do those things to you.”

  “I believe your good intentions,” Petra’s mother, Sergeant Sumner, said, “but how can we trust Colonel Pearson’s? Let’s not forget he was the one to hand the children over to Ritter in the first place.”

  There was a burst of talking among all the kids, and it took a while for everyone to quiet down.

  “I’d just like to say,” Dr. Weber began, “that the colonel has risked a lot to bring these children to safety. He’s risked the lives of himself and his men, and he’s broken the orders of his own military command to give you all a safe haven.”

  Anaya saw Colonel Pearson bow his head for a moment before looking out into the room. His expression was genuinely contrite. “You h
ave my assurance that no harm will come to any of you while on my base. I made a mistake, and it’s one I won’t be repeating. It’s clear we need each other. But for us to be most effective, we need complete honesty from each and every child here. We need to know about all the changes you’re experiencing.”

  Anaya cleared her throat. There was no point waiting to tell the big stuff.

  “We’re telepathic,” she said.

  Pearson’s head kicked back a bit. “Is this a joke?”

  “We can talk silently with each other. And some of us can make a sound in other people’s heads to hurt them. Maybe even kill them. That’s how Dr. Ritter died.”

  “Dear God,” she heard one of the military officers murmur.

  “Who exactly can do this?” Pearson asked.

  “No one here,” said Petra. “It’s only the flyers. Vincent. Siena. Esta. And Seth.”

  “This is surprising but not incredible,” Dr. Weber said, “considering you all have transmitters in your brains.”

  Anaya took a breath. “And I’ve talked to one of them. A cryptogen.”

  Heavy quiet blanketed the room. Except for Petra, no one here knew about this. She hadn’t even told her own parents yet, and she felt them looking at her, stunned.

  “Anaya, really?” Mom asked.

  Her hair and claws were one thing—and her parents had taken that very well—but the telepathy was different. This was something inside her.

  “How many times has this happened?” Dad asked.

  “Three so far,” Anaya told him.

  She saw Pearson lean over to Dr. Weber at the front of the briefing room and whisper something in her ear. She shook her head.

  “The colonel has suggested we interview all of you in isolation, but, Anaya, if you’re comfortable telling the room, I think everyone has a right to hear this.”

  Anaya was relieved. She didn’t want to be taken to another room and interrogated. So she started telling them about what she’d heard and experienced when talking to the cryptogen.

  “I think they’re asking for help,” she finished, her mouth parched. Mom passed her a bottle of water.