The 39 Clues: Unstoppable: Nowhere to Run

by Watson, Jude

  Hamilton fishtailed on his belly, crawling away. “Follow me!”

  He brought them to safety behind a stand of boulders by the cliff as another bullet, then another, pinged into the dirt.

  Hamilton looked up at the cliff. “Look, I think they’re at the very end of their range. See the pattern of the bullets? They can’t quite reach the cliff, I’m guessing.”

  “You’re guessing?” Ian asked.

  “They’ll be in range soon, though. Our only chance is to scale that cliff now.”

  “And then what?” Jake asked.

  “Hide in the caves. Hope help arrives.”

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere!” Ian protested.

  With another spray of rifle fire, they exchanged glances.

  “Hamilton is right,” Amy said. “We have to take our chances and climb.”

  “The cave openings are small,” Jake said. “Let’s stay as close together as we can, but there won’t be a cave to fit all of us.”

  Amy pressed a hand to her head.

  “Amy?” Jake looked at her, worried. “Are you okay?”

  “Stop asking me that,” she said sharply. “Of course I am.” Her head ached, but she had bigger problems. She rose and faced the cliff. It was hard to concentrate. She felt dizzy, and she wasn’t sure she could scale the cliff.

  Behind her another bullet slammed into a rock.

  I can scale the cliff.

  She launched herself up and began to climb. Now that she was up close, she could see the rock was porous and offered handholds and footholds. There was just enough light from the half moon and sky full of stars to see, if she was careful. She forced herself to concentrate. Think, Amy.

  She could see down the slope to the lights moving steadily upward. Dan was right behind her, Ian and Jake below him, and Hamilton was scaling the wall next to her, the fastest of all of them.

  Suddenly, a bullet slammed into the rock. Shards went flying.

  “We’re in range!” Hamilton shouted. “Hurry!”

  She could see a cave opening a few feet above her. It was just big enough for her to climb into. “Dan!” she called. “Here!”

  She swung inside just as another round of gunfire exploded on the cliff face. “DAN!”

  She saw his white face only a few feet away. He was safely tucked into a cave. Hamilton was just above. Jake and Ian had found a cave big enough for both of them.

  The cliff shone in the moonlight, serene. She texted the others.

  REPORT IN. ALL OK? NO INJURIES?

  One by one the reports arrived. Everyone was safe.

  Amy settled herself in and faced out, watching the lights advance.

  As the night wore on, the cold settled into Amy’s bones. Sweat had dried on her skin, making her shiver. Her skin felt hot. She knew she was feverish.

  Through bleary eyes she watched as the men slowly, inexorably made their way up the mountain. They set up camp below the cliffs. They methodically set out sleeping bags and sat around a small fire. One of the men sat with a rifle across his knees, facing the cliffs. Once in a while he’d spray the cliff face, just for fun.

  Her phone vibrated. She peeked at it. It was from Jake to all of them.

  WAITING US OUT.

  The men were waiting for daylight, Amy thought, resting her head against the stone. She licked her lips thirstily. How she wished she’d had a chance to bring water along. She rested her hot forehead against the cool stone of the cave wall.

  Hamilton would put up a good fight. So would Jake. So would all of them. But she’d seen these guys in action. They had a Tomas boost, and it made them close to indestructible. She didn’t think it would be a fight the Cahills could win.

  She had brought them all here to this mountain. She had to get them out.

  They were all separated by yards of cliff. If they ventured out, it would be easy to pick them off. Make it look like an accident somehow, the Cahill kids recklessly seeking thrills on a mountain and falling to their deaths with their friends.

  She could see the headlines. She pressed her hands hard against her eyes. The pale moon reverberated in blackness behind her closed lids, light bleeding and bouncing . . . like fireworks in the fog, Amy thought, and wondered if she was delirious.

  Then she heard a low, intense sound. Somewhere between a growl and a purr. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Fear caused her entire body to clench. Ears straining, she listened.

  The growl came again.

  It was behind her.

  Amy flattened herself against the cave wall. She breathed in and out, trying to calm herself. She tried to think through the panic.

  She couldn’t leave the cave. The lookout would see her.

  She couldn’t sit here all night, waiting for the leopard to attack her, either.

  It might not be a leopard. It could be . . . something not quite so lethal. Other animals growled like that, didn’t they? A lynx, a jackal, Sadik had said.

  Amy slipped the pistol with the paralyzing dart from her waistband.

  Her eyes were accustomed to the darkness now. She moved carefully toward the rear of the cave. After a while, the ground slanted upward. The air felt close and smelled damp. She heard something . . . a drip, drip, drip. As she moved forward, she realized her feet were wet.

  There was a stream in the cave. So that must come from somewhere. The ground was sloping more sharply upward now, and she struggled not to slip as she climbed. She kept walking, following the noise of the low, rattling sound.

  Her nostrils twitched. Fresh air. She could smell it. There was another opening in the cave!

  Amy soon began to see the faintest of light ahead. She had to drop to her knees, but she crawled out of the cave, right onto the summit of the mountain. The faint light was cast by the countless stars.

  She heard the purring growl again. She froze. She could just make out a pile of boulders about twenty feet ahead. She gripped the dart pistol.

  Suddenly, out of the darkness she saw a pair of gleaming green eyes. The shock of the sight and her shaking hands caused her to drop the pistol. She heard it skitter away, fall down the slippery shale, out into the darkness.

  Terror paralyzed her. She had nowhere to go.

  The growl came again, freezing her blood.

  The green eyes reminded her of something. Her dream. Olivia had those eyes, green and clear. . . .

  She thought at that moment of her ancestor. She thought of the courage and persistence she’d glimpsed in the pages of that journal. Of Madeleine, who had begun the Madrigals, who had also never given up.

  And Grace. She thought of Grace. Her grandmother would stand, just as she was, facing that animal presence, and she wouldn’t flinch.

  She stared into the darkness where she knew the other presence was. The terror left her and she felt a sort of communion with the life that was standing only yards away under the trees, hunted, the last of its breed.

  I need something from you. I won’t harm you. But if you give me this gift, it will save my people, just as you would have wanted to save your own.

  The darkness was beginning to lift. She could make out the edges of things. The tree trunks, the rocks, the leaves.

  As the light grew and brightened, she looked behind to see that she was standing in front of a broad vista. Far below she could see men hurrying up the trail. They wore uniforms. So the guides had left them, but they had gone for help.

  The men below were quickly assembling their gear. They were retreating.

  Dan and the others were safe.

  She turned back to where the leopard had been. Nothing was there. The light touched a flat rock and something gleamed. She walked forward.

  Six whiskers.

  She crouched. Were they real? She touched them with her finger. A substance clung to one of them, some
thing caramel colored, a pretty shard of stone, and she brushed it away.

  She turned as she heard the noise of tumbling shale. Suddenly, one of the thugs vaulted over the lip of the cliff. It was the short, powerfully built one with the blond buzz cut. He used the momentum of his leap to keep going, charging toward her.

  Panic shot through Amy. She tried a flying kick. Her leg felt like lead. It glanced off his hard body as he took the last step toward her. He wrapped his meaty hands around her neck and squeezed. She could smell his sweat and see the determination in his gaze. But his eyes looked so dead. . . .

  Black spots swam in front of her eyes. Her knees buckled.

  The grimace of satisfaction on his face turned to an O of surprise. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell heavily to the ground.

  Jake stood behind him, a paralyzer gun in his hand.

  He dashed toward her. “Are you okay?”

  Amy fell to her knees, gasping, and he crouched by her.

  “Okay,” she croaked. “Thanks.”

  His fingers touched her neck gently. “You’ll have a bruise.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” She struggled to her feet.

  “Amy, no! Wait . . .”

  “I have . . . to show you.” She stumbled toward the rock. “The leopard was here. She left me these.” Amy held out the whiskers.

  Jake walked over to the rock. “That’s impossible.”

  “But the impossible can be possible.” She weaved and fell against him. He caught her.

  “I’m so dizzy. . . .” she said. She was happy to lean against him now.

  “I think you have altitude sickness,” Jake said. “I’m serious, Amy. We need to get you down the mountain.”

  “I saw her, Jake! I saw her eyes. . . .”

  As the light grew, the confusion in her head was beginning to clear. “Over there,” she said. She tried to judge the exact spot where she’d seen the leopard’s green glowing eyes.

  She walked past Jake, searching the ground. It was all rock and shale.

  Except for one clear patch of dirt. She crouched down to examine it. It wasn’t the impression of a leopard’s paw. It was a boot.

  Sneak Peek

  Amy and Dan have found one of the lost ingredients, but will it be enough to stop Pierce? Find out in Unstoppable: Breakaway by Jeff Hirsh, available February 2014. Turn the page for a top-secret sneak peek—for Cahill eyes only!

  London

  J. Rutherford Pierce smiled as the six mercenaries filed into his London office. Each one had been handpicked. The best of the best. Hardened soldiers who moved through their lives free of the fears and uncertainties of lesser men. And yet right now, each and every one of them was terrified. Pierce savored it. Some people liked wine. Some people liked fine food. Pierce liked fear.

  Once the mercenaries were seated, Pierce pressed a button beneath his vast desk and the double doors behind them slammed shut.

  “Sir,” their leader began. “We —”

  “Candy?”

  Pierce pushed a large crystal bowl toward the edge of his desk. It was full to the top with small red, white, and blue spheres. Americandy. His newest creation and currently the fastest-selling sweet in the United States. The men looked back at him, uncertain, off balance, just as he wanted. Pierce smiled as he plucked out a red one and devoured it.

  “The red is my favorite,” he said. “Cherry pie. The blue is blueberry pie and the white is apple pie. Had to fudge the color on that one a bit, of course. Go on.”

  He pushed the bowl forward again and each man took one. Of course they did. The world was a symphony and Pierce was a conductor.

  Pierce opened their action report.

  “Why Turkey?” he asked.

  “Sir, the guides they hired indicated that the children were looking for leopards.”

  “Anatolian leopards,” Pierce corrected.

  “Y-yes, sir,” the mercenary stammered. “Anatolian leopards. Which are extinct.”

  “And where are they headed now?”

  “They’re taking a private plane, sir, but we were able to access their flight plans. Rome first and then Tunis, Tunisia.”

  “Why?”

  “We, uh, we don’t know, sir.”

  Pierce turned the page to a simple black-and-white map. Turkey and then Tunisia. Turkey was the site of ancient Troy while Tunis was once Carthage, one of the greatest empires the world had ever known. Coincidence? Pierce thought not. But what did it mean? Extinct animals. Vanished empires.

  What are they after?

  “So, can you tell me any way in which you and your men did not fail in your mission?”

  The leader hesitated. Pierce slammed the report onto the desktop and the fearless men before him leaped back in their seats.

  “Children!” Pierce thundered. “A group of children who should be home playing video games and avoiding their math homework took you on and they won. They beat you. Now, I’m sure you all came here expecting punishment, severe punishment, but I’m not going to punish you. In fact, I’m going to give you each two gifts.”

  The men, who had been staring down at the plush carpeting at their feet, looked up at him, tentative, but all breathing a little bit easier.

  “The first gift,” Pierce said, “is the opportunity to redeem yourselves. Would anyone like to know what the second one is?”

  The men nodded dumbly. Honestly, sometimes it was like the entire world was moving in slow motion except for him. Pierce smiled.

  “The second gift is motivation.”

  “Sir?” their leader said.

  Pierce pulled a white pill out of a drawer in his desk and held it up to them.

  “The candy you ate was filled with a slow-acting poison. Complete your assignment and return here to receive the antidote. If you are unable to complete your assignment, well, I imagine most of you would welcome a death of writhing agony after being bested twice by a group of children, wouldn’t you?”

  The double doors behind the men swung open as if by the force of Pierce’s will.

  “There,” he said. “Consider yourself motivated. Now go!”

  Once they were gone, Pierce popped the antidote into his mouth and went back to his report. The Cahills.

  Individually, none of them would be of concern, but together . . .

  Pierce smiled as the answer came to him.

  He reached for his phone.

  “Contact the heads of all our European media units,” he ordered his assistant. “Anyone who isn’t standing in front of me in one hour is fired.”

  Pierce hung up and sat back in his chair. He watched London race about below.

  It was a city with a rich and expansive history. Shakespeare. Churchill. Isaac Newton.

  And I’ll be the one to wipe it all away.

  Rome. The Next Day.

  Amy Cahill was running out of time.

  She had managed to make it out of the airport and onto the tarmac unseen, but her pursuers were smart. It wouldn’t be long before they picked up her trail. The private jet was sitting just ahead, fueled up, its engines already spinning into a high-pitched whine. She had to get on board and in the air, fast, before they saw her.

  She peeked around the dumpster she was hiding behind. A few members of the ground crew milled around the plane making final preparations, but otherwise the coast was clear. Amy cinched her backpack tight and started to move.

  “Amy Cahill!”

  Amy flattened herself against the dumpster as the door from the airport to the runway flew open. Her pursuers were heading down the stairway and onto the tarmac.

  “Amy! Where are you?”

  She had to distract them. Amy spied what she needed a few steps away. She dashed out of her hiding place to grab a metal can off a shelf. She poured its contents into the dumpster, then p
ulled a match from her jacket pocket. The trash lit with a deep whump, exploding into a wall of flame. Amy put her back into the quickly warming metal and pushed.

  “A-my!” someone cried in a taunting singsong. “A-my Ca-hill! Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  Amy dug her sneakers into the asphalt and bore down on the dumpster, her spine burning against the hot steel, until she felt something give. The wheels squeaked and began to turn. Amy grunted and gave another push, and momentum took over. The dumpster raced out across the tarmac, the fire surging in the wind.

  Gasps came from all around as the ground crew called out in frantic Italian. Her pursuers scattered, half of them running back to the terminal to get help while the others sprinted toward the dumpster. She had about two minutes of chaos. It was all she needed.

  Amy bolted across the tarmac to the waiting plane. Dan and Ian were out of their seats and heading for the commotion when she ran up the stairs.

  “Amy, what’s going on!?” Dan asked.

  “Pierce’s men! Tell the pilot we have to get going!”

  “But what about the others?”

  “Now!”

  Dan disappeared into the cockpit.

  “Amy, are you all right?” Ian asked. “Was it Pierce’s men? Did those ruffians hurt you?”

  “I’m fine. We just need to —”

  “Hey! What are you doing!?”

  Amy froze, her back to the door. She slowly turned to face her pursuers.

  “We were just getting snacks!”

  Jonah and Jake stood at the foot of the stairs. Atticus, Pony, and Hamilton were behind them, holding up plastic bags that stretched under the weight of soda bottles, chips, pretzels, and candy.

  “Don’t look at me,” Jake said as he led the group past her and into the plane. “I told them we had to get going.”

  “Little dudes can’t be contained when they see snacks,” Jonah said.

  The boys passed Amy, dropping into their seats and pulling out snacks and video games. A din of conversation quickly filled the cabin. Ian hadn’t moved from his place by the first row of seats. He was watching Amy intently, an unasked question in his eyes. The cockpit door opened again.