Max: A Maximum Ride Novel

by James Patterson

  “How about I just fly overhead and meet you there?” I said.

  “Okay,” the captain said easily, surprising me. “How long can you hover without landing on anything?”

  “Uh, I guess about eight hours,” I said, knowing it would be a stretch and that I’d be totally starving and exhausted by the end of it.

  Captain Perry waited.

  “Okay, fine,” I said, heading toward the hatch. I hate it when a grown-up actually calls my bluff. Of course, this was pretty much the first time, so I don’t have to deal with it too often.

  “You know, we can get you some Valium or something,” he offered, following me.

  “No!” I gritted my teeth and began to climb down the ladder. “Why does everyone keep wanting to drug a child?”

  Dr. Akana was waiting at the bottom of the ladder, and she clapped her hands as if organizing a party game. “Okay! We’re going closer to where the attacks took place, then stop at about sixty meters deep. Then we’ll go on a field trip. Let me put my stuff down, and I’ll get ready.” She headed off to the quarters she’d share with the female crew members.

  I felt a surge of excitement. At last, we were on our way. I had to get into battle mode, make sure the others were ready for the traditional fight-to-the-death scenario. The navy wanted to make sure we could defend ourselves, but they’d never really seen us in action.

  For the first time ever, I wondered if we had what it would take — Mr. Chu and his dumb-bots I was pretty sure we could handle. But sea monsters? Mountains that came out of the water to kill a hundred thousand fish? That was a completely different picture. I needed a plan B.

  Frowning, I made my way into the belly of the ship to find Gazzy.

  52

  “THERE’S ONLY ROOM for three,” I told Angel, who was getting that mutinous look on her face.

  “I should go, because I might hear something,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

  By “hear,” I knew she meant telepathically pick up on something, like the fish thinking little bubbly fish thoughts (“Ooh! Plankton!”) or whatever. “It’s too dangerous,” I said firmly, which was pretty much the lamest argument I could have come up with, given the sheer amount of completely death-defying stuff we did on a routine basis.

  “Max.” She looked at me, and I remembered that she could also put thoughts into people’s heads.

  “Don’t make me wish I was wearing a foil hat,” I warned her. “Look, the crewman has to go, because he knows how to drive the little sub, and Dr. Akana has to go because she knows what the heck we’ll be looking at, and I have to go because (a) I’m the leader, right? And (b) it’s my mom we’re looking for, and (c) because I said so. You dig?”

  I crossed my arms too and frowned down at her, something that’s always worked in the past, but I doubted it would for much longer.

  “Angel, dear, you’re only six,” Dr. Akana said kindly.

  “Seven,” Angel said obstinately.

  “When did you turn seven? Oh, never mind,” I said, getting exasperated. None of us knows when our actual birthdays are, so we each made up one for ourselves. Years ago I’d had to put my foot down about getting only one birthday a year, because Gazzy was trying to capitalize on presents. But, actually, we don’t really keep track of them too well.

  “I’m seven.” Angel looked like a bulldozer wouldn’t budge her.

  “Fine, then, I’m — seventeen!” I said. “You’re not going.”

  The little sub in question was a three-person thingy that looked kind of like a large pool float with a bubble on top. It could go down to one hundred meters (about three hundred feet — our Big Daddy sub could go down about one thousand meters), and I practically expected to see foot pedals sticking out the bottom.

  The only reason I was willing to get in it was because of the Plexiglas dome on top that you could see out of. Our current sub had no windows. I repeat, no windows. Zero. Zip. Nada. That was because the space between the outer hull and the inner hull was full of water when the sub submerged and full of air when it surfaced. A window would have had to have been about a foot thick. Instead, the crew viewed the outside on little TV screens, from cameras located on the sub’s exterior.

  But now I had a chance to be in a big bubble and see what was going on. Anything would be better than being stuck in here.

  I rubbed my hands together. “Let’s do it.”

  Ten minutes later, a bottom hatch slowly opened, and we dropped down into the deep ocean. There wasn’t much light, but because the water around Hawaii is so clear, it wasn’t totally pitch dark, even at sixty meters deep.

  Then the crewman turned on the headlights. It was amazing — our own underwater show. Above us was the enormous U.S.S. Minnesota. We were chugging out from under it, thank God. But the fish! There were fish everywhere, all sizes, moving slowly through the water.

  “That’s a yellowfin tuna,” said Dr. Akana. “They can grow to more than seven feet long.”

  “What’s that one?!” I said, pointing to a huge silver hubcap with orange fins.

  “It’s an opah,” said the crewman. “They’re good eatin.’ ”

  “It’s almost as big as me,” I said.

  “I’m sure it weighs more,” Dr. Akana said with a smile. “Look! There’s a turtle!”

  Sure enough, a turtle about the size of a standard poodle swam by, looking totally unconcerned about our sub.

  “Everything moves so slowly under water,” I said. In addition to the fish that caught our attention because they were the size of sofas, we were surrounded by hundreds of thousands of smaller fish in every shape and color combination you could imagine — and some you couldn’t.

  “Not everything — these fish can dart away in an instant if danger’s near,” said Dr. Akana. “Now, we’re still about six miles away from where the fish kill was first spotted, but I wanted to check out —” Her words were swallowed by a gasp. “Oh, my God! What’s that!?”

  My head whipped to where she was staring, and I sucked in a fast breath.

  No, I thought. Not this.

  53

  “CONTACT THE SUB!” Dr. Akana commanded the crewman urgently. “Issue a Mayday!”

  “Hang on,” I said, still staring out the Plexiglas dome. Thirty feet away, and swimming closer to us, was something I never expected to see but should have.

  “Contact the sub!” the doctor cried.

  “Nah, don’t bother,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “I’ll deal with her myself.”

  “Max! She’s drowning!”

  “She’s swimming,” I corrected her. “And being obnoxious. And getting into major trouble.” I frowned at Angel, who was maybe ten feet away now, smiling and waving at us. You are in deep sneakers, I thought hard at her, and her smile faltered.

  Then she grinned again, swimming loop-de-loops in front of us.

  “She has no gear,” said Dr. Akana weakly. “She’ll run out of air.”

  “She has gills,” I admitted, still glaring at Angel. Sure, she didn’t have to worry about air, but there were a million other dangerous things in the ocean, including some huge, catastrophic mystery that might have something to do with my mom being kidnapped. And here Angel was, swimming around like she was bulletproof and sharkproof and man-of-war proof!

  “Gi —”

  “Gills,” I repeated, as Angel merrily caught a ride on a manta ray the size of a mattress. “We’ve all got other special skills and stuff. Angel can breathe under water. Also, she can communicate with fish and read people’s thoughts. Don’t play poker with her.”

  The crewman swore softly under his breath. “She took me for forty bucks!”

  Angel came back and clung to our clear dome. While I gave her every fierce look in my repertoire, she pressed her mouth against the Plexiglas and blew her cheeks out. Then she pulled off and laughed hard, doubling over and emitting a stream of bubbles.

  “Is she not affected by water pressure?” Dr. Akana asked. “We’re sixty mete
rs deep! A scuba diver would have to be very cautious about getting the bends.”

  “She’ll get the bends all right,” I muttered. “I’m gonna bend her over my knee!”

  Staying in our headlights, Angel performed an underwater ballet, first following a turtle, then another ray, then a mahimahi. She imitated their swimming styles, embellishing them with flourishes, spins, and somersaults. She kept her wings tight against her back, as we all did when we swam. She was having a super time. I was going to kill her.

  “Besides the swimming child with gills, I’m not seeing anything unusual here,” said Dr. Akana humorously. “The marine life looks healthy and undisturbed. I see no evidence of algae blooms or coral reef die-off. I don’t see huge amounts of dead fish.”

  “But we’re still far away, right?” I asked.

  “Yes. I thought we should start taking stock of things this far away and continue to check periodically as we get closer to the site,” she explained.

  I jumped as Angel tapped on the dome above my head. While I scowled at her, she pointed to me, to my neck, and then out to the water.

  “What is she saying?” asked Dr. Akana.

  “She wants me out there, to see if I’ve developed gills,” I said, and only after I saw the crewman’s eyes widen did I realize how nuts that sounded. Well, I already had wings, air sacs in addition to lungs, and was almost five-eight but weighed barely more than a hundred pounds. If this guy was looking for normal, I ain’t it.

  “Do things just develop like that on you?” Dr. Akana sounded fascinated. How scientisty of her.

  I nodded. “I mean, not all the time, you know,” I said, feeling embarrassed by the crewman, who was obviously trying not to look shocked. “But every so often, something new happens or changes on one or more of us. Like we were programmed to keep evolving.”

  “That is so amazing,” said Dr. Akana softly. “You are truly special and unique, Max.”

  I felt my cheeks grow warm, as the “circus sideshow freak” factor rose by the second.

  A quick movement caught our eyes. I swiveled to see an enormous shark making its way toward us. Its tail was slicing back and forth, its head wagging as if looking for prey.

  “Uh-oh,” said the crewman. “You better get that little girl out of there.”

  “Yeah.” Angel? Big shark alert. I thought hard. I can’t actually send my own thoughts, but Angel usually monitors stuff going on around her.

  We watched as she paused in midpirouette to look for the shark. They spotted each other at the same time. The shark took only a second to sum up Angel as being snackworthy and immediately began a fast, efficient approach.

  “Crewman!” said Dr. Akana. “Put the Triton between Angel and the shark!”

  The crewman immediately began to maneuver our small vehicle, even as he said, “Not sure the Triton can withstand an attack from a shark that size, ma’am.”

  Angel faced the shark, looking at it intently. She held up one hand as Dr. Akana winced, bracing for the worst. I sat frozen.

  The shark paused. Angel swam up to it. I heard the crewman suck in a breath, heard Dr. Akana praying softly. The shark stayed still, and Angel ran her hand gently along its head. It rubbed against her like a huge, toothy dog. Angel turned to grin at us.

  “Okay, folks. Show’s over,” I said. “Let’s get back to the Minnesota.”

  54

  “YOU’VE GOT TO QUIT just thinking about yourself!” I said as Angel stuck out her bottom lip and crossed her arms over her chest.

  And you’ve got to start paying more attention to her, said the Voice. And to what she’s saying.

  “Oh, like I don’t already?” I snapped aloud, then saw Angel’s look of confusion. I shook my head. “Never mind. But I was worried sick while you were out there!”

  “You’re worrying about the wrong things, Max,” said Angel. “You should be trying to breathe under water and taking care of yourself. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “It’s my job to worry about you!” I said, shocked. “It always has been!” Angel had been about two years old when Jeb kidnapped us from the School. He hadn’t known what to do with her. Guess who took care of her night and day? And every day since then? Right. Moi.

  Angel looked sad. “We’re family, Max. I’m not a job.”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” I said.

  “Okay, let’s break it up,” said Fang from behind me, making me jump. I hadn’t heard him come in, as usual. “Angel, you’re still a little kid, and Max is the leader. Don’t forget that.”

  Angel looked chastised. “Well, I’m going to go get into some dry clothes. Come on, Total. Let me tell you about everything I saw out there.”

  “Could we talk about something else?” said Total, as he trotted after her, jumping over the door’s threshold. “Like, modern art? Or my latest issue of Wine Spectator magazine? Fish and me — we don’t mix. It really seems more like a feline thing.”

  I watched them go, thinking for the millionth time that things had been so much easier when it had been just the six of us, on our own.

  “You handled that really well, Fang,” said — you guessed it — Brigid. I tried not to gag as she patted his arm approvingly. Fang shot me a smug look over her shoulder, knowing it would make my blood pressure rise. I thought about the last time he’d made my blood pressure rise (in a completely different way) and felt a warm flush stain my cheeks.

  I looked at Fang. “Can we have a meeting? With the flock?”

  He nodded.

  “That’s a good idea,” Brigid said. “I’d like to ask you —”

  “This is flock business,” I said abruptly.

  Brigid looked taken aback. “But we’re all a team.”

  “Yes,” I said. “And I really, really appreciate everyone’s help in finding my mom. But some things are still just for the flock. It’s always been that way, and it’ll always be that way. ’Cause when it comes right down to it, there’s us six, and no one else is like we are.”

  Disappointed, Brigid nodded. Fang and I headed down to our little bunk room. We opened the door and found a typical scene: Angel and Total were curled up on a bunk (the sailors called them “racks”), looking at Total’s issue of Wine Spectator. Nudge had deconstructed her small khaki uniform and was holding a needle and thread as she turned it into something that didn’t offend her fashion sensibilities.

  As soon as I walked in, Gazzy stuffed something behind a pillow, and Iggy put on his oh-so-obvious “innocent” face, which immediately set off all alarms.

  “Max!” said Nudge happily. “Look! I took off the collar and changed the neckline. Once I move the buttons, it’ll be so much cuter.”

  I wanted to say, “It’ll still be khaki,” but didn’t want to rain on her fashion parade. My eyes were riveted on telltale wires sticking out from beneath Gazzy’s pillow.

  “Gazzy, I swear to God, if you’ve stolen a nuclear device, I will —”

  “It’s not nuclear!” he insisted.

  I sat down on the lowest narrow rack and pushed my hair out of my face, trying to figure out what to say. I am excellent at giving orders and barking out commands. I am not so good with the touchy-feely, “let’s connect” kind of stuff. But a leader has to press on sometimes, even with things she doesn’t like. It’s all part of the leaderly gig.

  “Guys,” I began gently. So far, so good. “I feel like we’ve gotten off track.”

  “What do you mean, Max?” Nudge’s eyes were wide.

  “We’ve been hanging with the navy for days now, and we’re not any closer to rescuing my mom. It made sense to hook up with them, at first, but now I wonder if they have any real plans. I’m thinking — well, I’m thinking that I want to give them another twelve hours. And if we haven’t made real progress, if we’re not any closer to rescuing my mom, then I think we should ditch ’em and head out on our own.”

  Six pairs of eyes looked at me. Did they still trust me? Did they want to follow w
hat the grown-ups said? Was I going to be in this all by myself?

  My throat felt tight as I waited.

  Then Fang put out his right fist. Nudge put hers on top, quickly. Then Gazzy, Angel, Iggy, and finally, Total put his paw at the top.

  “One for all and all for one,” said Fang, as my heart filled up. “That was in some movie.”

  I put my fist on top of Total’s paw, my smile so wide my cheeks ached.

  “Thanks, guys,” I said. “Now, let’s see if we can get this show on the road.”

  And of course it was at that very moment that we felt a huge crunch and were jolted so hard we fell off our racks, and the lights went out.

  55

  QUICK RECAP: claustrophobic, paranoid bird kid, trapped on jam-packed navy tin can of death, submerged under hundreds of feet of water, and now, huge crashing sound and no lights.

  Okay, have you got that picture? Now ramp up the adrenaline about 400 percent. Mix in a little terror. Stir.

  “That didn’t sound good,” I said, trying to be the calm, confident leader I am, even though every cell in my body was shrieking that I was about to die a horrible, watery death.

  Emergency lights flickered on and glowed a dim amber. A Klaxon alarm sounded, just like in all the old submarine movies. That’s the one you hear right before the sub goes belly-up.

  Because metal and water conduct sound well, we could hear pounding and knocking against the hull of the sub. I opened the door and saw sailors rushing past, each knowing what their job was, where they had to be.

  “I wish we were in France.” Total whimpered softly.

  Out in the corridor, the alarm was louder.

  The most horrible thing about this whole experience was that I didn’t know what to do. I always know what to do. I am chock-full of knowingness. Every awful thing we’ve come up against until now, I’ve been able to deal with. A mixture of ruthless cunning, wicked fighting skills, and sheer stoic toughness had gotten us this far. But none of that seemed to be worth much in this situation.