The Isle

by Jordana Frankel

  Aven follows; we sprint up three flights of stairs. It’s the most movement she’s had in years. She keeps up, though, with her long, alien legs. Taller than me, she is. I’d forgotten, after so long in bed. Back on the first floor, we race through the glass corridor.

  I knock once on the bathroom door.

  Please be in there, Derek.

  I push it open.

  Empty.

  I comm quickly:

  Where are you?

  “We can’t leave without Derek. He got me in; I won’t leave him behind,” I tell Aven fiercely—irrationally—terrified that we may not have a choice. “One minute, that’s all.”

  We don’t get one minute.

  The room goes dark. A siren wails through a speakerphone. In the far corner, a red light strobes around the bathroom.

  Someone’s found the lab tech.

  For a moment, I forget that we’re inside a dingy bathroom. Instead, we’re in my heart, its chamber frantic with red flashing lights.

  The siren howls for blood.

  I can’t leave him.

  “Ren!” I hear Aven call over the noise. “We need to go!”

  And . . . I can’t stay.

  Derek would tell me: keep moving, don’t stop until you’re safe. But I wish I knew he was safe first.

  The vials of water—I remember. Without them, he’ll die. He’ll be a walking corpse by tomorrow. I jump onto the sink, reaching for the grate. The putty we’d used to keep it in place stretches away like gum. Inside the air duct, Derek’s and my bags are right where we left them.

  I pull out five small vials and search the bathroom for a solid hiding spot—a place no one would look without reason.

  I race for the last stall. Lifting the lid with one hand, I drop the vials into the water tank. They sink under the valve, mostly out of sight. One more time, I mad dash for the sink, jumping up onto it.

  Quickly, I type into my cuffcomm:

  Magic’s in the toilet.

  I don’t say any more than that. He’ll figure it out.

  “Now we go,” I say to Aven, sending the message off. “I’ll lift you up, but you’ll need to maneuver yourself in.”

  Aven bites her lip. She eyes her wrists like she’s not so sure.

  “You got this, Aven.” My voice is calm. Reassuring. Mentally, however, I’m ripping Voss to shreds.

  “Here,” I say, and I hold her by the elbow. She jumps; I swing her onto the sink. Then, wrapping my arms below her hips: “One, two, three—”

  Aven throws her elbows into the metal duct and hurtles herself in. A moment later, she kicks her foot out. It takes me a second to realize what she’s doing, but then I understand.

  It’s for me to grab on to. Even now, after everything, she never ceases to amaze me.

  13

  AVEN

  3:45 A.M, FRIDAY

  “Let’s do this,” Ren says, clambering into the duct. She taps my ankle twice.

  I prop myself up on my bandaged wrists and make it ten feet before the hurt is too much. Instead, I drop back down onto my elbows. It’s better, but everything still aches. Ignore the hurt, Aven. Soon you’ll be out. I had a tumor the size of a Ping-Pong ball in my head for years. I should be able to ignore this.

  “We’re moving fast enough, don’t worry,” Ren says, probably because she can hear me dragon-breathing through my nose every few seconds. I’m annoyed with myself, and she knows it. “I’ll tell you where to turn. We’re looking for the earlier ventilation system that’s no longer in use. Careful, though—it connects with this one and drops out just above sea level. That’s where Callum’s meeting us.”

  I don’t ask who Callum is. If he’s one of Ren’s friends he can’t be that bad.

  The alarm continues hollering for us to come back, though it’s duller here in the duct. I force myself to move faster.

  A few minutes in—

  “Ah!” I cry.

  One second I’m crawling along, the next I’m dangling over the edge of a fifteen-foot drop. I heard Ren say this would happen—I just didn’t realize the chute would disappear beneath me. My torso folded over the edge, Ren holds my feet, and I wiggle backward.

  “Holy brack, Aven.” She whistles her relief. Still breathless from the close call, she asks, “Did you happen to see a headlight on down there?”

  Come to think of it—I look over the edge again to be sure. “I see it!” I point down the chute to the bright yellow glow of a headlight. Gasping, I can feel my fingers as they extend out toward him. Maybe they’re back! Maybe I’m a starfish, or a lizard. Maybe the governor wasn’t lying.

  When I look, there’s nothing there. Disappointment rips me in half. It’s like losing them all over again.

  “He did it!” Ren cackles, slapping the side of the air duct twice. Her excitement makes my disappointment easier.

  “Okay,” she says, scooting past. She pulls a rope from her bag and ties it to a handlebar that looks suctioned onto the duct. “I’m going first. If you hold the rope under your armpit and wrap it around one foot, it should be easier. Rest your feet on my shoulders if you get tired.”

  A gust of air blows up the chute, and I’m wearing a paper-thin hospital gown. I’m almost naked, I realize with a shiver.

  “First things first,” Ren says, awkwardly banging around in the metal box. She’s peeling off her leggings—for me.

  I believe in silly, childish things, like imagining my way out of places—but I didn’t say a word; Ren just knew. I add telepathy to the list of things I believe in.

  Ren pulls the leggings over my knees, and I wiggle in the rest of the way. “Good,” she says. “That’ll cover the important parts. You do not want to get rope burn there.”

  Now she’s the one in her underwear. “I’ll be fine,” she assures me, and I don’t doubt it. Ren can handle just about anything. I actually laugh from loving her so much. I’m not sure what she wouldn’t do for me.

  If she had to, she’d kill, I think, remembering the lab tech’s face. The realization scares me. I wonder if I love her because of this truth, or in spite of it.

  Would I do the same? Could I?

  Ren lowers herself down the rope, inch by inch. When it’s my turn, I take her advice. I tuck the rope under my armpit and twist it around my ankle. I want to do it all myself—at least start off that way. I push my muscles until they shake, but it’s the chafing that hurts the most. My hospital gown shreds all around me.

  I have to use Ren’s shoulders. She takes some of my weight, and the rope burns less.

  “We’re here,” she says, dangling under me. “We’re gonna drop into the mobile together. Wrap your legs around my waist, piggyback style.”

  I look down the shaft, past Ren and into the mobile. “You want to jump into that?” I ask. The moonroof’s opening is so tiny.

  “It can fit two, don’t worry.”

  “Okaaay,” I say, shaking my head, not liking it. I monkey onto her back until she’s holding all my weight. I don’t know how she does it, where she gets all her muscle.

  “On the count of three we’re both letting go,” she says, grunting, and I feel her fighting to hold on. Her hand slips, and we drop down a few inches. “Here goes. You ready?”

  “Uh-huh.” My voice wavers.

  “One. Two. Three.”

  She does it. She lets go, and I let go, and we’re meteors falling through space.

  Callum’s Omni catches us like a wormhole. It bucks from side to side. We land with a loud thump and Ren hoots, pounding the floor with her fist. “Guts of steel, this one!” She grins to the boy in the driver’s seat like she’s so proud of me. “I got no words. Impressed don’t even cut it.”

  Ren pokes me and I look away, tucking my wrists away between my legs. I didn’t really do anything. I just followed her the whole way out.

  “Where’s Derek?” Callum asks, giving up the front seat. He hardly has time to move out of the way, Ren propels herself forward so fast.

  Through
the rearview mirror, she shoots him a look.

  She hates herself—it’s written all over her face, and I can’t help but feel guilty. If they hadn’t come for me . . .

  “He’ll be fine,” Callum tells her. “Derek knows more about this city than the DI. He’ll know what to do.”

  From her expression, I can’t tell if what he said helped.

  “Moonroof, closed,” Ren murmurs. “Beamers, dimmed.”

  I’m in a mobile. The realization buzzes alive inside me. My first time. I’m terrified, breathing heavily into my knees, and my heart might jackhammer itself out of my chest, but . . .

  I’m living.

  14

  REN

  4:00 A.M., FRIDAY

  “Everyone ready?” I ask, not expecting an answer. How ready can you be for a high-speed getaway from a government lab?

  Lowering the Omni underwater, I flip on the beamers only for a second—otherwise I can’t find a way out of the building. Spotting a window through the dark brown murk, I carefully steer us through it and into the Hudson Strait.

  When I flip off the high beams, Callum hands me a DI-issued thermal-imaging visor. I know these from my DI training. Throwing it on, I get no time to adjust to the new way of seeing.

  In the distance are three hot yellow blobs. Two southwest, one north. We’ve definitely got DI Omnis headed our way. Brack.

  “Hang tight, folks,” I warn.

  “Reservoir dock, please?” Callum says to the VoiceNav system. Apparently he’s always polite. Even now. To technology, when we’re on the run.

  A cluster of neon-green lines appear on the navigation panel, drawing us a map of the West Isle. Reservoir Dock appears as a small red dot northwest.

  Meanwhile, the three hot yellow blobs grow exponentially bigger, according to the visor. My nerves balk at the odds. I swallow too much air, like a starved person. But I know what I’m doing, I’m no amateur. In, out, in, out. I give my breathing a pattern and force my heart to chill the brack out.

  If there’s anywhere I know what I’m doing, it’s behind the wheel.

  Then why am I so on edge right now?

  Looking in the rearview mirror, I have my answer. Precious cargo. It’s making me cautious, as well I should be. But I win ’cause my methods are unorthodox to the point of suicidal, some might say. If I start flinching at every mobile that bites my way, I’ll never get us out of here.

  The DI Omnis draw closer, but we have one advantage—they don’t know where we’re headed, so they don’t know they’re in our way. It’s not a huge advantage, but it’s something.

  I wait for the blobs to get bigger, and then, when one of ’em comes a bit too close . . .

  Pedal to the metal, baby.

  I gun this beauty for all it’s worth. We shoot forward. I stick to my seat and my stomach drops. Steering us directly over the nose of one mobile—

  I bring us nose-to-nose with the second.

  I set the Omni in reverse. A glimpse in the rearview, however, shows me a surprise: the first guy’s pulled a 180. He’s now headed for our tail. I swallow. Okay, not that direction.

  Facing forward again—

  “Ren!” Aven shrieks from the backseat. Her voice breaks with a fear like I’ve never heard before, and my insides twist up. The echo-location sonar beeps shrilly. On the screen, I see why. . . .

  A red arrow is headed right for us. It’s a net, attached to a harpoon. Or a harpoon attached to a net, depending on which you like less.

  The arrow hurtles closer, until it’s practically an Egyptian pyramid on the screen. I cut the wheel to the right, spinning us off at a ninety-degree angle.

  There, suspended like a bullet in midair: a third blob.

  “Will someone please turn off the sonar!” It should’ve been turned off soon as we made it out of the building, but both my hands are on the wheel, and Aven don’t have hands, so that leaves Callum.

  He flips it off and the beeping ceases, thank heavens. I’m the only one who needs to see the harpoons coming for us anyway.

  “I hope nobody’s worried,” I say to the others, trying to cut the tension. “This is nothing.”

  They both side-eye me as I give the Omni more speed. The mobile strains, its engine grinding for more.

  Of course as I say that, blob number three decides now’s a great time to let loose a net. Through the visor, I see a new red arrow rushing toward us. Thankfully, though, this guy ain’t much of a shot. I rotate the wheel just a few degrees and avoid it entirely.

  According to the dash’s schematics, I’ve got a turn coming up.

  I wait until the last possible moment and swing a hard left. Aven and Callum groan in unison, thrown into the side of the mobile.

  “Intentional!” I say. “I’m taking turns last-second, banking on how badly they suck at driving.”

  Sorta glad the thermal visor doesn’t show you when someone’s about to puke.

  I look behind us and spot only two yellow blobs. We push past the remains of one old building and then another, but we’re just not moving fast enough to lose them. And honestly, without Benny here to rig the speed, we’re not going to outrace them either.

  “How you doing back there, Aven?” I ask.

  I wish I could split myself in two. That way I could be the driver and the sister. I could get us safely outta here, and I could reassure her that no one will ever, ever take her away again.

  Each time she’s in danger feels worse than the last.

  “I’m fine.”

  That’s all she gives me. In the past twenty minutes, she’s said nothing else. When Callum saw her wrists, she wanted to talk even less.

  “We’re almost there.” I glance at the map, knowing I have to lose these guys pronto. Our dot is three-quarters of the way to the dock. I give the Omni as much speed as she can handle, but navigating through all these buildings, taking turns left and right—it’s impossible to go full throttle.

  Blob one releases another dart. In my visor, I watch the red streak get bigger and closer.

  I swerve.

  Metal rips through the Omni. Water sprays into the pit, a frothing white stream of brack shooting everywhere. The floor grows slick. I spin around to see a foot-long metal harpoon skewering the left side, just above Callum’s knees.

  “Ren!” he calls over the hissing water, holding his hand against it. “We need to get out!”

  I gun the engine again, but it don’t work—the dart’s attached to a rope, which is in turn attached to a net. They’re reeling us in easier than tuna fish. I watch Aven’s face for signs of even more unrecoverable trauma, and I find her bracing herself, pale as a corpse.

  “Callum. We’re fifty feet from the surface. Even if we could make it by swimming they’d be up there waiting for us. Then what?” I tug the visor off and stand up, an inch deep in water.

  He doesn’t answer. He’s reaching for an extra wet suit under the seat and ties it around the dart, to plug up as much of the hole as possible. Finding my eyes, he pushes his sopping, shaggy brown hair away from his face. “Even if we could lose the harpoon,” he says, “the Omni will be slower than before, and with the heat sensors they’ll still be able to follow us. There is no way out except out.” He points to the airlock in the Omni’s butt.

  For a moment I believe him. My chest sinks hard. Maybe he’s right. I’ve got Aven to think about. At least if we evacuate, we could split up. She might have a chance at not being found.

  “Ren?” Aven asks softly, pale brows knotted. She looks up at the both of us, white hair slick against her skull and her hospital-napkin dress soaked through. She’s so thin. She must be freezing. She leans forward like she wants only me to hear her. “What would you do if you were alone?”

  I almost laugh. She knows how to get to the heart of it, don’t she? “Well,” I start, thinking it over a moment. “I guess I’d go out there and knife the net—”

  “And then what?” Callum asks hotly. “They can still follow us, remember?” />
  I scowl, and though he’s right to ask, I could do with a little faith.

  Looking to Aven’s small, pale face, I find nothing but faith. She’s waiting for me to think of something, because she believes I will.

  I close my eyes.

  If I knife the net, how can I get them to not follow us?

  Her teeth begin to chatter. She’s cold. She needs a wet suit or something. She’s been through too damn much to die from hypothermia.

  I shake my head—hypothermia. The idea that comes to me is nuts. Any idea that starts with hypothermia must be.

  And yet . . .

  “What is it?” Aven asks. “You’ve got something—I can see it.”

  I feel like I’ve just swallowed a fish whole. This is a terrible idea.

  Good thing I love terrible ideas.

  15

  AVEN

  4:27 A.M., FRIDAY

  Water fills the mobile, so cold it makes my teeth chatter. I’m as stiff as the dead, my arms pale and blue, and I’m fighting to stay awake. I’m just so tired.

  “How much do you two trust me?” Ren asks, but the question is just for show. I know from experience. She’s already decided.

  “Thermal imaging,” she begins. “It locates engines, ’cause they run hot. And you know what doesn’t run hot? People underwater. Totally undetectable. Right, Cal?” She looks for confirmation. He nods.

  “We’re gonna trick their visors. We’ve got to stay underwater. But, since we’re still too far from the surface, we need this engine to take us there quickly. First, I’ll need to cut the harpoon free.”

  “You’re flooding the mobile,” I murmur.

  “You’ll have a wet suit.”

  A hard shell forms around my body. Suddenly I feel so young and so old at the same time. In the seat, I notice that I’m rocking back and forth, but I don’t recall doing it on purpose. The water is rising, and I’m so sleepy it’s hard to keep my eyes open.