“Huh?” Snake never sees Izumi come at him from the right, hitting him full-on. He tumbles to the ground. Caterpillar wants to help, but his hands are completely encapsulated in melted caramel. Charlotte swoops in, grabs the zip-tie cuffs, and secures Snake before he even knows what happened.
“Get his feet!” I yell. Izumi swipes the length of rope from Snake’s belt and binds his feet. He curses a lot. Toby stuffs a stray glove in his mouth. It can’t taste good. Quickly, we cuff Caterpillar, although that seems like overkill. He is a mess. We run.
Well, most of us do. It takes a second to realize that Owen Elliott is frozen in place, staring at Snake and Caterpillar. Charlotte is right about the zombie apocalypse. Owen Elliott will be eaten first.
I sprint back into the cell. “Come on!” I get behind him and give him a shove.
“But you just, like, assaulted that guard.”
“It’s nothing permanent.”
“But . . .”
“Can we talk about this later?” I plead. Finally, he starts to move, but sluggishly, as if running is optional. It’s not. When Veronica wanted to motivate me, she somehow managed to make me want the same thing she did. But I’m not as good as Veronica, so I settle for blunt.
“If you don’t hurry up,” I hiss, “you will become a permanent part of this lava tube system. In two hundred years, archaeologists will uncover your bones and wonder why you didn’t run faster.”
His expression is shocked, but at least his feet start to move.
We catch up with the others. Izumi leads. The tunnel grows tighter. I hear the rushing water before I see it, the sound of thousands of gallons tumbling by very quickly. A torrent. I glance at Poppy. Her face is barely visible in the poor lighting of the tunnel, but I can tell this is not what she expected.
“That’s a river,” Charlotte says.
“A big one,” adds Izumi.
“Isn’t this supposed to be the way out?” asks Toby.
Poppy closes her eyes. “I thought it would be . . . smaller.”
“Oh, this just keeps getting worse,” Owen Elliott says with a moan.
“Is there another way out?” I ask.
Poppy shrugs. “No way to know.”
“What if we, you know, jump in the river?” asks Izumi. “Where do we end up?”
“Dead?” suggests Toby.
“In the ocean,” Charlotte says. “But look, there’s light that way, so it can’t be that far. And hopefully we pop out close to a beach. I mean, if the dead thing doesn’t happen.”
“Hopefully?” Izumi asks.
Footsteps echo in the distance. The guards close in. “Here’s what I’m thinking,” says Toby calmly. “I’m not getting caught by a bunch of lunatics. I’m not going through what we went through with Zachary Hazard again. No way. Not ever.” His eyes are steely, determined.
Charlotte and Izumi nod solemnly in agreement. And with that, the three of them hold hands and jump into the raging underground river, vanishing before I eek out a scream for them to stop.
Poppy watches the spot where they disappeared. “I don’t know who Zachary Hazard is,” she says, “but I’m not hanging around here waiting for those guards. They do not have good intentions.” With a little wave at a startled Owen Elliott, she takes the plunge, gone in an instant.
Owen Elliott, mouth frozen in a little O, cautiously backs away from the edge. “I am not jumping in there,” he says. “You guys are crazy.”
“It won’t be so bad,” I lie. “Kind of like those water park rides.”
“Except in those rides you have a boat.” Owen’s eyeballs look fit to pop out of his skull. But it’s about to get worse.
Snake steps out of the gloom behind us. He clenches his fists and grins wildly. “Let’s see you escape now,” he snarls. “You’re trapped! Think you’re so smart, do you?”
I grab Owen Elliott by the wrist. He resists. I’m going to have to pull him in. Can he even swim? The guard takes advantage of the split-second hesitation and lunges for Owen, getting a handful of his ugly Hawaiian shirt. I yank him toward me, but the guard is bigger and stronger. And I have no more tricks up my sleeve or on my spy phone. But I do have the spy phone.
With as much precision as I can muster, I hurl the gold spy phone at Snake’s head. It hits him right above the eye, hard enough to draw blood. He howls, releasing his grip on Owen Elliott. And that’s all I need.
We spill over the edge into the river.
Chapter 34
A Big Mistake.
THIS IS WHAT IT MUST feel like to ride the spin cycle in a washing machine. I can’t tell up from down. I lose my grip on Owen Elliott almost immediately, but I know he’s close, as he kicks me in the face a number of times while we tumble along with the rushing water. I bounce off the steep, rocky sides of the river, leaving a layer of skin behind. The brackish water stings and burns my eyes. It’s so completely dark. This might be the end. I never would have guessed it would be like this.
After what seems like an eternity but is probably only fifteen seconds, the water flattens out. The rushing waves calm. The light in the distance grows brighter. Owen Elliott floats on his back a few feet from me. I elbow him just to make sure he’s alive. He shoots me a dirty look. Confirmation. I tread water as the current pushes us along.
From the mouth of the tunnel, we drop about five feet into the gentle ocean. The full moon lights up a white sand beach a brief swim away. Four waterlogged bodies lie on the water’s edge.
“This way,” I gurgle, nudging Owen Elliott toward shore.
“I’m going to die,” he says, matter-of-fact.
“If that was going to happen,” I say, “it would have already.”
“Do you always have this much fun?” he asks.
“I try.” He grimaces but paddles along until we drag ourselves up on the sand and collapse.
It’s a full ten minutes before anyone says a word. We’ve had a number of near-death experiences, but this one felt dramatic. Perhaps because much of it happened underwater. I’m pleased no one is actively crying.
Charlotte groans and rolls toward me. “That might have been the worst idea ever.”
“You’ll have to be more specific,” replies Izumi.
“But we made it,” Poppy points out.
“Barely,” adds Toby.
Oh, no. Toby. The gold spy phone. Is now the time to confess? I decide to wait. It’s been a long twenty-four hours. We lie on the sand until the moon sinks and a bright orange sun creeps up over the horizon. Day.
“As soon as we find a dry phone,” I croak, “I’m going to call Jennifer and yell at her.”
Izumi rubs her temples. “I can’t think until I have food,” she groans.
“I hate to point this out to you,” I say, “but we have the clothes on our backs. And just barely. We can’t afford breakfast.”
“Not so fast,” says Toby. He removes his shoe, dumping out the accumulated mud, sand, water, and a few startled little fish. He peels back the inner foot bed, producing two soggy twenty-dollar bills.
“Sometimes old technology is best,” he says. “Breakfast is on me.”
We end up at a small roadside shack that sells Belgian waffles, piled high with chunks of pineapple and topped with syrup and whipped cream. The lady behind the counter, her hair tied up in an orange bandanna, barely bats an eye when we roll up, which makes me wonder what sorts of people frequent her waffle stand.
Sitting on a long bench, no one speaks as we cram food into our mouths, except for the occasional mmmm. The sun warms our shoulders, drying our clothes, stiff with salt water. My eyelids are crusty. I’m exhausted but exhilarated. We’ve managed to keep the Ghost from getting what he wanted for long enough to get help. I wonder if he’s even here. I’d love to see him marched out of those creepy lava tubes in handcuffs.
Izumi zeroes in on the one remaining pineapple chunk on my paper plate. “Are you going to eat that?” I dutifully hand it over and ask them what happened on the p
lane.
“They took our backpacks, right off the bat,” Charlotte says. “When they didn’t find what they were looking for, they threatened to bring in someone to make us talk. Or sing. Yeah. I think they said ‘sing.’ Clichéd bad guys are the worst.”
“Sing about Blackout?” I ask.
“I think so,” says Toby. “They seemed to think we knew all about what they wanted. How did you find us, anyway?
“Magic fabric sewn into Owen’s shirt,” I say.
“It’s not magic,” Poppy says. “It’s smart.”
“You mean the shirt Owen puked on?” asks Charlotte. “That added some excitement to the journey.” It also explains the ugly Hawaiian shirt. I glance at him, but he stares at his uneaten waffle, unlike Toby, who is busy licking the last bits of whipped cream from his plate.
“What?” Toby asks.
“You have whipped cream on your nose.” Toby crosses his eyes to see it and licks it away. How does he do that?
“Gross,” says Izumi.
“You’re just jealous,” he responds.
“No,” she says. “I’m really not.”
“Do you think they’d let us stay here for a short vacation?” Charlotte asks. “I mean, if we’ve really uncovered the Ghost’s headquarters, shouldn’t we get something out of the deal?”
Birds chirp. Palm trees sway in the breeze. The air is sweet. We’ve escaped the evil underground lair. We didn’t drown. So when Owen Elliott, who has not said a word since crawling out on the sand, flips out, it is both surprising and not.
“They wanted to kill us!” he yells, overturning his plate. His waffle lands in the dirt. “We might have been tortured.”
“I don’t think it was ‘might,’ ” Charlotte interrupts. “I think it was definite.”
Owen Elliott’s cheeks flare red, and it’s not from the building heat. “What if they pulled out my fingernails? Or my teeth?”
“You watch too many movies,” Izumi comments. “More likely they would have forced us to watch nonstop cat videos until we confessed.”
Charlotte giggles. Toby meows. Owen Elliott does not approve of the hilarity.
“You sit here and joke!” he cries. “Like what happened is no big deal. We were kidnapped. We were threatened. We were . . .” He gulps the air like a fish out of water.
“Breathe,” suggests Izumi. But he’s not done.
“I was all alone! And do you know what they said? Do you? They said they had found a way to remotely kill people by delivering poison through their phone. They just need to be holding it. Or have it in their pocket. And no one would ever know why they were dead! They were going to test it on us. They thought that was so funny. And you guys, you sit here and . . . and . . .” He sputters, his fury depleted, shoulders sagging.
Silence. All eyes are on Owen Elliott. My mind races in circles, chasing its tail. Finally, Toby speaks up. “Did you say ‘poison’?”
Chapter 35
Back for Round Two.
THIS IS BAD. Very bad. The worst. I glance at Izumi, who looks at Charlotte, who stares at Toby, who eyeballs me. My heart pounds through the stiff, dry fabric of my Smith T-shirt. The waffles, delicious just moments ago, roil my stomach.
“Now, Owen Elliott,” I say quietly, “tell us exactly what they said in the cave. Did they really say ‘poison’?”
He’s exasperated, pulling at tufts of his salt-crunchy hair. “Yes! They went on and on about fear and how that is all you need to control people and if you can find a way to make them afraid they will accept things they never would otherwise.”
“They aren’t after Poppy’s Blackout,” I say. “They are after—”
“Cookies,” Toby whispers, his face pale. “They want a way to poison people with the touch of a button.”
A stunned silence settles in. “They wanted us all along,” I say. “Can they do it? Would it work?”
Toby nods his head gravely. “Yeah. It will work.” Well, that’s just great. “And it explains why they were so thrilled to find our phones after they kidnapped us. And so angry when they realized the app wasn’t on them. It’s only on the gold one.”
Sometimes I experience a jolt, like a shock to my brain, when the odds suddenly shift and are no longer in my favor. Toby sees it on my face and visibly blanches.
“You. Did. Not.”
I fight to keep from gagging on waffle. “I had no choice!” I blurt. “That phone saved our lives!” I skip the part about how I used it as a brick, hurling it at Snake’s head. “And besides, you gave it to me. Why was the Cookie app on there to begin with?”
“Because you kept breaking all the regular spy phones!” Toby shouts. “That was my beta! That’s where I test things!” Toby rarely raises his voice, so this throws me back on my heels.
“Wait a minute,” says Charlotte. “Just to clarify, you gave cookies to the bad guys?”
Great. She picks now to pile on. “It was an accident!”
“Abby is notorious for losing spy gear,” Izumi explains to Poppy and Owen Elliott, whose eyes bounce from me to Toby and back to me again. “It’s a problem.”
I throw my hands in the air. “I didn’t do it on purpose!”
“You never do!” shouts Toby.
Charlotte stomps her foot. This gets our attention. “Enough,” she says. “Silence. Toby, can they get what they need off Abby’s phone?”
“Yes,” Toby says, simmering.
I stand abruptly, my empty plate sticky with syrup falling to my feet. “We need that phone back,” I say.
Izumi jumps up next to me. “Before they can steal cookies,” she says.
“I guess we’re going back to the Ghost’s lair?” asks Charlotte. Does she seem hopeful? Hasn’t she had enough?
Poppy chokes on her tongue. “Are you guys insane?”
Maybe. But every second counts. We cannot let the Ghost’s people extract what he needs from the spy phone.
“Toby. Owen Elliott. Poppy,” I say. “Find a working phone. Call my mother. Tell her to hurry.”
“And where will you be going exactly?” asks Poppy, squinting into the sun.
“We’re going after that phone,” I say.
“You’re aware you have nothing?” Toby points out. “No spy gear. Zippo.”
I am keenly aware. But sometimes a girl just has to rely on her wits. Emma and Gemma Glass would be so proud. “We’ll be fine,” I say.
“I hate when she says that,” Izumi mutters. “It’s never true. It’s always the opposite.” But then she smiles, a big broad grin. And Charlotte smiles too. And we start to laugh, well aware that Owen Elliott and Poppy watch us with dismay. The laughter crescendoes, until my eyes leak tears, leaving little trails down my salty cheeks. I heave with convulsive hiccups.
“Don’t mind them,” Toby says with a dismissive wave. “This is just how they roll.”
And it is. No matter the odds, no matter how daunting or scary or downright stupid, as long as I have my friends with me, I’m not afraid.
“I totally love you guys,” I whisper through the hiccups. Izumi slaps me so hard on the back, my teeth almost fly out of my head. That’s what I get for declarations of love. But the hiccups are gone.
“Works every time,” she says as I catch my breath.
“When you get down in the tubes,” Toby says, his face serious, “look for a server room, someplace with tons of computers. They will want to amplify the Cookie app and push it everywhere as soon as they can.”
“Lots of computers,” I say. “Got it.”
“And if it’s already been loaded onto the servers,” he says grimly, “you’re going to have to kill it.”
“How do I do that?” I ask, suddenly a little queasy.
“Don’t move,” he says, dashing to the waffle lady. He returns with a pen. “Hold out your arm.” Quickly, he writes several strings of code from my wrist to my elbow. Don’t get it wet. Enter it exactly like this.”
“Okay. Let’s regroup in that little to
wn we went through on the bus. Remember, Poppy? There were gardens.”
“That narrows it down,” she says, but she does not argue or offer me a different plan.
“Find it,” I say. “And be careful. They are bound to be looking for us. We will meet you there. Hopefully soon.”
“And if you don’t?” Owen Elliott asks, just this side of hysterical.
“We will,” I say.
All other options are simply unacceptable.
Chapter 36
Second Time Is the Charm.
WITH THE SPARE CHANGE from the waffles, we catch the same bus Poppy and I rode earlier to the stop nearest to the Ghost’s fancy empty plantation. It’s even the same bus driver. She does a double take when she sees us, but it’s not because she recognizes us. It’s more like horror at our condition. We’ve looked better. I’m proud of Charlotte for not demanding we spend our last dollar on a tube of ChapStick. That’s bravery for you.
We have the element of surprise going for us. They won’t expect a return visit after we tried so hard to escape. That would be ludicrous. And foolhardy. And unwise. Illogical, even. And, possibly, stupid.
Instead of plotting how we get back into the Ghost’s hideaway and steal back the spy phone, Charlotte and Izumi want to know what is so special about Poppy. “Why was her name on that paper?”
“She’s a really good planner,” I say. “As in her plans have more than step number one. And she thinks about contingencies. For real.”
The girls look appropriately impressed. “So she’s like Mrs. Smith to Jennifer?” asks Izumi.
“Exactly.”
“Interesting,” says Izumi.
“You’re not going to ditch us to partner up with Poppy, are you?” asks Charlotte, her gaze intense.
“What? No! Never. Ugh. Don’t even joke about that. She was freaking out from the first minute. The only time she was calm was when she was planning. Or blowing things up. She liked that part too.”
“Had to check,” Charlotte says with a wink.
The bus rolls to the dirt shoulder and we disembark. Izumi and Charlotte follow me into the edge of the abandoned coffee field. I plunge into the tall weeds, and the girls follow without a word.
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