Hatch

by Kenneth Oppel

  “Good kicks,” Petra said.

  Everywhere, soldiers and kids were battling the water striders that had infested the base.

  “Petra, get inside!”

  Startled, she turned to see her mother across the field. She was clothed in protective gear, armed with a rifle, and taking cover behind an empty jeep.

  Petra knew that her mother was in way more danger than she was and went running toward her. A bug got there faster. It slipped its skinny front limbs under the jeep and flipped it over.

  “Mom!”

  Her mother scrambled out of the way, completely exposed now. She fired off two shots before the bug smacked the rifle out of her hands with a steely leg. Then it scooped her up.

  Petra ran so fast she had no voice. Her tail was raised like a spike by her shoulder, ready to strike as soon as she got close. Maybe the bug saw her coming, or smelled her murderous intent, because it turned and sprang away, carrying Petra’s mother with it.

  Petra gave chase, ignoring the people shouting at her, only wishing she had Anaya’s speedier legs. The bug ducked through a gash in the netting and leapt down the shoreline into the harbor. The water dimpled under its steel wire legs, and with its middle ones, it began rowing itself swiftly away from Deadman’s Island.

  Mom was still alive. Petra could see her trying to break free. There was still time. No way was this thing stealing her mother.

  She threw herself into the harbor and felt a surge of energy as she slit the surface and went under. Her entire body undulated in a way she’d never swum before, driving her forward.

  Eyes open, she saw the water strider’s shadow ahead of her. She kicked harder until she was directly underneath. She grabbed the bug’s rear leg. It pulled her along. Then she seized hold with her other hand and exhaled all the air in her lungs. As she sank, she dragged the creature under with her.

  This thing might’ve been born underwater, but it wasn’t built to live here. Its spindly limbs flailed uselessly. Blindly, it lashed out with its needle nose, but Petra held tight and struck it viciously with her spiked tail. She pumped venom until she knew she had no more. The bug’s legs contracted violently and then were still.

  Silhouetted on the surface was her mother’s drifting body. A thin bright ribbon of blood unspooled from her chest. Petra kicked to the surface and grabbed her. Mom’s lips were blue and she wasn’t breathing. Treading water furiously, Petra tried to give her mouth-to-mouth.

  “Mom!” gasped Petra, taking a break. “Mom!”

  She pressed her ear to her chest, heard a distant murmur, and started swimming her mother back to shore, fast.

  “OKAY, LISTEN,” SAID DARREN, above the boat’s engine. “We need to rethink where we’re headed.”

  A fine drizzle fell. Seth glanced at Darren, then returned his gaze to the water. Esta was taking a turn at the wheel, and he was spotting, pointing out debris and half-submerged boats and rogue log booms.

  And rafts of slumbering water lilies. Their sulfurous smell tinged the air as the boat passed. Sometimes their swanlike necks would arch and fire seeds at the boat. Whenever they did, Seth swabbed off the hull with a towel to keep the acid from burning through. Still, he figured it was only a matter of time before they started taking on water. He hoped they’d make it to Whidbridge Island before then.

  They’d dragged the dead man’s body over the side. Seth hadn’t felt good about it, setting him adrift on the water, but the smell was unbearable, and Seth didn’t want anything else sprouting from his chest and trying to kill them.

  He lifted his eyes skyward, dreading the sight of a helicopter. So far they’d passed a few other boats, none of them military. Some people had waved from their decks—a kind of sad salute that said, We’re still here—good luck.

  It was cool on the water, and Seth missed his heavy protective jacket. He’d rummaged around in the seat lockers and found a few windbreakers. His was too small, so the feathers near his wrist poked out.

  He checked the compass in front of Esta. He figured as long as they were going north, they were headed in the right direction. Up ahead, mist layered the horizon.

  Darren said, “I really don’t think roughing it on Whidbridge Island is going to work.”

  “Sure it is,” said Esta.

  “What about all the bugs?”

  “We’ll eat them.”

  “I agree, the people we’ve seen so far are total dicks,” Darren said. “But they can’t all be bad.”

  “Darren, we’re not going to Deadman’s Island,” Esta told him.

  The name still filled Seth with a complicated mix of yearning and anger.

  “Charles agreed with—”

  “Speaking of Charles, I can believe he got away. He’s really fast. But you aren’t.”

  Darren frowned and shook his head, confused. Seth looked at Esta, not sure what she was getting at either.

  “What really happened?” Esta demanded.

  “I told you, we both got away. We were lucky.”

  For the first time, Esta looked directly at Darren. “Did you make a deal with the cops? Tell them you’d lead them to us? They found us pretty fast at the marina.”

  Darren swore under his breath. “You’re crazy.” He shook his head at Seth. “Why would I do that?”

  As much as he disliked Darren, he’d never thought Darren would do such a terrible thing. But now that the idea was in his head, he couldn’t dislodge it.

  “What’s in your pockets?” Esta asked him. “You got a tracking device or something?”

  “No!”

  “Empty your pockets, then.”

  “Fine!” He pulled out some granola bar wrappers and the cap of a water bottle. “Happy?”

  “You should check all his pockets,” Esta said to Seth.

  Darren held up his hands. “You know what? I’ve had it. Just drop me somewhere, okay? The first dock you see.”

  Seth was about to agree when Esta said, “No way. You know where we’re going. You’ll tell them.”

  “I won’t tell anyone anything!”

  “We don’t trust you, Darren. You snitched on us once. You’ll do it again. Are you going to check his pockets?” she said to Seth.

  Darren looked at him wildly. “Why’re you listening to her? She’s going to get us all killed!”

  Seth felt an unwelcome twinge of sympathy with Darren. He seemed genuinely bewildered—and desperate.

  “Come on,” Seth said, stepping closer, “let me check you. If you’ve got nothing to hide—”

  “Don’t touch me,” Darren said.

  “You want off,” Esta said, “jump off.”

  “What?”

  Seth looked at her, equally startled. “Esta—”

  “Jump. Off,” she said, her voice pure steel. “Or I’ll make you.”

  Seth saw Darren’s tail arch, the tip swaying at shoulder level.

  “Don’t try it,” Seth said. Darren was within striking range of both him and Esta.

  “You guys try to hurt me with sound, and I will stab you,” said Darren. “Just change course and take me to that quaint little island right over there.”

  Esta sniffed. “What makes you think your venom even hurts us?”

  Seth saw Darren swallow. “Let’s find out.”

  —I can drop him faster, Esta said silently.

  She must’ve struck, because Darren winced and gasped, but his tail, as if acting on its own, hit Seth in the chest. He felt the icy puncture through his windbreaker and T-shirt, right into the flesh between his ribs. The tail pulled out and swung fast toward Esta. She threw herself clear, and the spike struck the fabric of the driver’s seat.

  Esta rounded on him, and Darren staggered toward the back of the boat, hands clamped around his head.

  “Stop, please, stop!”

  Seth grabbed the wheel and narrowly avoided a collision with a deadhead log. He throttled back. From the rear of the boat he heard a splash. Before he could turn to look, Esta was beside him.
r />   “You okay?” she asked, gripping his shoulder.

  “Yeah,” he croaked.

  “You don’t look okay.”

  The cold at the center of his chest was spidering out along his arms and legs, and with it came a terrible weakness. He was suddenly on the deck, and when he tried to push himself up, his arm buckled. He stared helplessly up at Esta as a silent mist closed around her, and she was gone, and then everything was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  WHEN PETRA REACHED THE rocky shallows of Deadman’s Island, she knew her mother was gone.

  She pulled her onto shore and sank down, exhausted, beside her. Only dimly was she aware of the gunfire and shouting from the base. She brushed away the wet strands of hair plastered across Mom’s face. A mosquito bird dived down and bit Petra on the arm, but she didn’t bother to swat it. She let it flutter away to die from her toxic blood.

  Numbly, she watched as one giant water strider after another, as if on command, came leaping out through the slashed netting. They weren’t at all interested in her as they retreated across the harbor, some cradling lifeless human bodies in their front legs. Farther out, among the thick rafts of water lilies, they flattened their bodies and became practically invisible.

  She heard a cry and turned to see Anaya rushing toward her with a medic and another soldier. When her friend put her arms around her, she couldn’t even feel their weight, or understand what was being said to her. She watched, as from a great distance, as the medic started giving her mother chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth.

  The medic looked at her and shook her head.

  Her mother was lifted and carried inside the tenting, across the field.

  Anaya helped her up and walked beside her, asking questions. But Petra didn’t hear them. Couldn’t even feel her feet touching the ground.

  An injured soldier limped past.

  Ribbons of shredded tenting dangled down from overhead.

  An empty boot sat askew on the ground.

  There was the overturned jeep behind which her mother had taken cover.

  There was Colonel Pearson shouting orders.

  And then her father was running toward her. She saw the twisted look on his face, and suddenly all her senses came exploding back to her and she buried her face in his chest, eyes clenched. Over and over she heard herself sobbing, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  Maybe if she hadn’t eaten that egg, and touched the others, they wouldn’t have hatched and none of this would have happened, not so soon anyway. Not today. They wouldn’t have attacked. They wouldn’t have killed Mom.

  “Shhh,” her father said against her head. “I love you. Thank God you’re all right. I want you to go inside—there might still be some out here.” His voice was hoarse. “Please, Anaya, will you take her inside?”

  She felt Dad shifting her to Anaya, and watched as he helped carry Mom’s stretcher toward the sick bay.

  That was her mother, going away from her.

  Anaya had her arm around her and was guiding her across the field to their apartment. How could the sky still be blue? Nearby lay a dead water strider, and Petra felt something fathomless in her stomach—and couldn’t tell if it was hatred or hunger.

  Trembling, she went closer, glaring at its narrow body, its needle-sharp head. She kicked at it, and then again and again, cursing. She dug her fingernails into the bug’s flesh and ripped off a strip of meat. Taking a bite, she recognized the same salty taste as the egg. Devouring more, she looked over and saw Anaya’s surprised expression.

  “What!” she shouted angrily, meat still in her mouth. “I’m a monster, didn’t you know?”

  She was a hybrid freak, half cryptogen. Her mother was the only human part of her, but she was dead now. She felt like she’d been thrown overboard into a frigid, churning sea.

  “You’re not a monster,” Anaya said softly.

  “I ate the egg! I made all this happen!”

  “They would’ve hatched anyway.”

  “We’re all monsters! We’re just pretending not to be.”

  “Petra.”

  “But you actually think there’s some nice monsters up there who want to help us!”

  “I do.”

  “Because your mom lived? Well, they didn’t help my mom. How come your mom got to live?”

  Anaya said nothing.

  Fury filled Petra. It was insane, the idea that the cryptogens wanted anything but their destruction. But no, Anaya had her special relationship with Terra, and got all this special information, because she was special. Anaya with her special relationship and knowledge.

  “If they’re so nice, how come they’re not stopping stuff like this?” She waved her hand at the grisly slaughter on the battlefield.

  “Maybe they can’t, Petra.”

  “You’re so naive! They’ve gotten inside your head and messed you up! We need to kill all of them!”

  She crammed more bug meat into her mouth, not caring who saw or what they thought of her anymore. They could whisper behind her back all they wanted. They could stare at her tail and her tattoos. They could call her a crypto scumbag. She felt half deranged but also strangely powerful, not caring anymore.

  “And I’ll tell you something else,” she said. “Until we wipe them all out, no one’s cutting this tail off me!”

  ANAYA TILTED HER FACE up to the shower, washing away the dirt and bug guts from the battle. She wished she could also wash away the images jammed in her head: that impaled soldier on the field; Petra sitting beside her dead mother; the torment in her friend’s face as she raged.

  She’d never seen Petra like that and couldn’t blame her one bit. She was right: it wasn’t fair that her mom survived and Petra’s died. Anaya couldn’t even imagine how terrible it must have been for her friend, swimming her mother’s body back to shore.

  And Petra was right about something else, too. They had changed. They weren’t the same people, even on the inside. Petra craved cryptogenic insects, she loved being underwater, and she had a venomous tail that seemed to act on its own. And she, Anaya, felt the same kind of hunger for cryptogenic plants. But the biggest change for her was the powerful mental connection to Terra, which seemed to guide her own thoughts.

  Was she being brainwashed?

  Six soldiers had been killed, four others badly injured, and two of those needed limbs amputated. The hospital was chaos. She’d overheard Dr. Weber say that the giant water striders injected their victims with an enzyme that liquefied tissue, then sucked it out.

  Despite the warm water, Anaya shivered. So gruesome. How could she still trust Terra after all this?

  She didn’t want to leave the shower. Didn’t want to see Petra’s stricken face, or hear any more news. She just wanted the water to keep hitting her face. It felt cowardly, though, hiding away in here. She had to get out and see what she could do to help.

  An amber light pulsed in her head. She grimaced at the taste of dirt in her mouth. It wasn’t pleasant this time; it made her think of decay, of coffins in the ground.

  Only yesterday she’d longed to talk to Terra, to thank her for the medicine that had saved Mom’s life. But she didn’t want to talk to the cryptogen right now. She tried to stop Terra’s silent words from blooming in her head—without success.

  —What is wrong?

  —We were attacked! Anaya said. By giant water insects. Did you know about this?

  —No.

  —So you don’t control the bugs?

  —No.

  —People died. My friend’s mother!

  —Many have died. Many more will.

  It sounded so callous, and in anger Anaya tried again to slam the door on Terra. Maybe these cryptogens didn’t have emotions. Maybe she’d been stupid to think Terra was capable of kindness or fear or empathy. But as Terra’s words echoed in her head, their blunt meaning expanded. Sergeant Sumner’s death was a personal tragedy, but countless thousands, maybe millions, of people had already died on Earth. And ea
ch one of those deaths was a mind-crushing personal tragedy for someone else. And there would be so many more unless they could stop the flyers.

  She had many things to ask, and Colonel Pearson had given her his own list of questions, but before she could begin, Terra said:

  —We are coming.

  She was startled by the simple force of the statement. It wasn’t a request. It was happening.

  —When? Now? Right now?

  In her mind she saw the sun cross the sky into darkness, then rise once more to its apex.

  —In two days?

  —Two days. Then we will take the substance.

  Fear prickled her neck like a rash. She needed to remind herself that, even though their communication was getting clearer and faster, sometimes Terra’s words came across differently than intended. But we will take made it sound like she had no say in the matter.

  —Why do you need my blood? she demanded. What’s so special about it?

  —The code.

  —What kind of code? How did it get into my blood?

  —We hid it there, long ago. Now we need to extract it. To make the weapon.

  —How does the weapon work? she asked Terra.

  —I will explain. When we come.

  —Wait, I have questions now. There are things you need to tell us first.

  —When we have landed, Terra said. When we know we are safe.

  ESTA FROWNED DOWN AT him. “Seth? Seth!”

  Gasping, he tried to sit up but felt too heavy. There was a cold burn in the center of his chest. Everything rushed back to him. Darren. His stinger. Collapsing.

  The last thing he remembered was Esta getting swallowed up in mist—he’d thought it was the mist of death or something, but it was real mist. It swirled around them now, enveloping the whole boat.

  “Darren,” he tried to say, but all he heard was a strange sound from his mouth. It felt like he’d been shot full of dental freezing.

  —I thought you were going to die, Esta said. You were paralyzed. You were barely breathing.

  He tried again to push himself up, and Esta helped him rise onto his elbows. All his limbs tingled painfully as feeling returned to them.