Max

by James Patterson

  "I still think these creatures were caused by radiation poisoning," said Brigid. "We definitely get high radiation levels around here, but it's been mysteriously difficult to pinpoint."

  "Could I go outside and just hang on to one of the sub's fins?" Angel asked. "Then I could really see stuff."

  "No," Captain Perry, John, and I all said at the same time.

  Angel frowned.

  "The ones I saw up close had wounds all over their skin," I said. "They were like building-sized pickles, except their pickley skin was all messed up, raw and bleeding and oozing. It was horrible."

  "Did you pick up on anything from them, Angel?" Brigid asked. "The first time, you felt their rage and their desire to kill. Did you get anything different yesterday?"

  "Uh-huh," said Angel. "They were still mad and wanted to kill us, but they're also in pain. And they're smart. They can communicate with each other and make plans, work together to attack us in a group. They're kind of neat—more understandable than whales or dolphins."

  "Uh, what?" John said.

  "Whales are great and all, but everything about them is really slow," Angel said matter-of-factly. "They take forever to get a thought across. And dolphins—well, they're kind of flighty. They just want to have fun. It's hard to get them to focus on anything. Unless you're constantly flinging fish at them. They're big into rewards."

  "I see," said John.

  Just then a machine started pinging quickly. Brigid rushed to it.

  "Off-the-scale radiation, right here," she said excitedly. "Turn on the floodlights, and let's see what's going on."

  Captain Perry quickly gave the command, and the undersea world around us was illuminated with powerful lights. We all raced to the few small windows and peered out as the brightness swept back and forth like a beacon.

  "And there it is," said John, sounding depressed. "One mystery solved."

  68

  WHAT ARE WE looking at?" Gazzy asked.

  "I'm guessing… fish?" Iggy said, sounding bored.

  "There's a bunch of containers out on the ocean floor," I explained to him. "Plus fish."

  "How deep are we?" Nudge asked, her nose pressed against the thick glass.

  "Almost a thousand meters," said Captain Perry. "More than three thousand feet. Not the deepest part of the ocean by any means but still deeper than most subs can go."

  "So they were counting on people not being likely to find it," Fang said.

  "Yes," Brigid murmured, staring out the window.

  "We're moving in closer," said Captain Perry.

  "There's writing on the containers," I said.

  "Shining lights on it now," said Captain Perry.

  This close, with the floodlights hitting them full on, we could see dim markings on the sides and tops of the barrels. Brigid's radiation detector was practically in hysterics, and I wanted to say, "Okay! We get it! There's radiation! Now shut up!"

  "There are Chinese characters," said John.

  I looked at the barrels and saw they were also stenciled with English words. "It says, Danger, Keep Away." I read slowly, peering through the water. "Property of the Chu Corporation. Huh. No surprise there. And they're marked with some kind of yellow and black sign."

  "That's the symbol for radioactive material," said Brigid.

  "Some of the containers' lids are popped," said Gazzy. "Like they've rusted open. I assume that's an 'uh-oh' kind of thing."

  "I guess you were right about the radiation causing the monsters," said Nudge.

  "It hasn't been proved yet," said Brigid. "A scientist needs conclusive proof. But it does certainly look possible."

  "It's all making sense now," said John. "The Chu Corporation is dumping illegal radioactive material into the ocean. He created his army of robots to keep it hidden and protected. The CSM was doing a lot of work to bring ocean pollution to everyone's notice, so we became a threat." He rubbed his hands over his eyes, looking tired.

  "Now what?" said Iggy. "Who you gonna call?"

  A quiet voice in the hallway outside said, "Ghostbusters!"

  Captain Perry and John groaned. "That phrase is ruined forever," said John.

  "Well, let's get back up to the surface," I said briskly, trying not to sound too eager. Knowing I could breathe under water was comforting, but at this depth, if I went out of the sub, I'd be mushed flatter than a pancake in less than a second. "We can call the EPA or the CSM or the navy or whoever, and tell them where this stuff is."

  Not so easy, Max, said the Voice. It's never that easy. You should know that.

  Okay, who saw that coming? Be honest. Everyone but me?

  "Uh-oh," said Angel.

  "Double uh-oh," said Gazzy.

  I rushed back to the window and looked out, cupping my hands around my eyes. The sea was moving. Wait—no, not the sea…

  It was a wave of Mr. Chu's weatherproof all-terrain assassins. There were hundreds of them, and they were rushing toward the sub.

  It was battle time. Again.

  69

  CAPTAIN PERRY hit the intercom. "Prepare for attack! This is not a drill! Repeat, this is not a drill! We are at DEFCON one! Arm the torpedoes, and plot evasive action!"

  There was a scurry of activity as men rushed to their battle stations.

  The first M-Geeks hit the sides of the sub, and we all grabbed on to something. I happened to grab on to Fang. We couldn't just go out into the water and fight them, not at this depth, with its crushing pressure. So if I was about to die a horrible watery death again, this time I didn't want to go out alone. I wanted to be with Fang and the rest of the flock.

  Alarms were sounding, people were shouting, and we heard the first clanging, grinding noises of the M-Geeks trying to breach the sub's hull. (That's fancy sailor talk for them trying to punch a hole in the boat's side, so we would all drown.) This seems to be a glaringly obvious weakness of the whole submarine concept. I'm just saying.

  "You kids stay here!" commanded Captain Perry, starting to head up to the control room.

  "Um—if I might make a suggestion," said Gazzy.

  "No time, kid," said the captain, half out the door.

  "You should listen to this," said Iggy firmly, and there was something determined about his face and sightless blue eyes that made the captain pause.

  "What?" he asked tensely.

  "This one time, when we were surrounded by M-Geeks, there was a storm coming, and we rigged a delayed-timer electricity booster," Gazzy explained. "When lightning hit the rod, it was amplified, and we aimed it at the M-Geeks. They all, like, turned inside out, and fried. It was excellent." He beamed at the memory, and he and Iggy slapped high fives.

  "That was good thinking, son," said the captain, "but I don't see how that helps us now."

  "You've got torpedoes," said Iggy, as if this made it all perfectly clear.

  "Torpedoes are good at hitting a particular target," said the captain. "These things are many smaller targets, and they're in direct contact with our ship. We can't do anything to them without harming ourselves."

  I groaned to myself as I recognized the exaggerated patience of a grown-up who can't comprehend the fact that eight-year-old Gazzy and fourteen-year-old Iggy probably knew more about demolitions, detonators, and explosive devices than almost anyone else on earth.

  "No, no," said Iggy. "You take the detonator out, then wire it directly to the sub's hull."

  "If you want to give it extra oomph, take the actual explosive stuff, like the ammonium nitrate stuff, and diffuse it throughout the water," suggested Gazzy. "Then, when you electrify the metal hull, it'll ignite and spread the damage out into the water, but not too far, and you'll take out mostly M-Geeks, since I bet they probably scared off most fish in the area."

  Captain Perry just looked at Gazzy, and then at Iggy, and blinked a couple times.

  "They're really good at this," I said, as the grinding and clanging got louder. "They like to… blow up things."

  "We know how to do it lo
ts of different ways," Gazzy said eagerly.

  Captain Perry paused for a moment, then got on the intercom. "Lieutenant Youngville, report to the map room!" He turned back to us. "She's our demolitions master."

  A moment later, a harried-looking young woman with short brown hair came in and saluted.

  "At ease," said Captain Perry. "Young man, explain your theory to Lieutenant Youngville. Fast."

  Gazzy did.

  It took the lieutenant a minute to digest what Gazzy and Iggy said. Then she nodded slowly. "You're a diabolical little pyro, aren't you?" she asked Gazzy.

  He blushed modestly.

  "Let's do this thing!" the lieutenant yelled, running out of the room.

  It was barely three minutes later when a huge flash! from outside lit our small room like lightning. It had seemed much longer—listening to the grinding, scraping sounds, wondering how quickly the M-Geeks would punch through. Then tiny, crackling lights skittered through the water. We waited anxiously.

  Seconds later, there was a larger series of popping explosions as the torpedo's powdered explosive drifted out into the water, where it was detonated by the electrical sparks still dancing around the metal hull of the sub. Gazzy crowed and held up his hand to slap high fives with the captain, who just looked at him.

  "It's like M-Geek popcorn," Iggy said, as we heard a fast string of small booms, one after another, each accompanied by a flash of light.

  "Yeah," Gazzy chimed in excitedly. "It's like an ignart!"

  I was about to say that this was no time for fart jokes when the grinding metal sounds stopped abruptly.

  "It seems to be working, sir," reported Lieutenant Young-ville, poking her head into the map room. "The technique—"

  "The Gaz-Ig-Nart technique!" Iggy corrected.

  "Yes, the Gaz-Ig-Nart technique seems to be neutralizing the enemy," the lieutenant finished.

  The captain tried. We all tried. But there was no way. When the ensign came to report, he found us all laughing so hard we had tears coming out of our eyes.

  70

  WE'RE GOING TO return to base now to make a formal report," Captain Perry said once he'd gotten his voice back.

  "Wait—what about finding my mom?" I asked.

  "She's got to be around here somewhere," John agreed. "Can you wait on that report so we can comb the area more thoroughly?"

  "There's leaking radioactive waste out there," said Captain Perry. "Who knows where that radiation is ending up, how far it can travel? It must be contained as soon as possible."

  "We came out here to find our colleague," John said.

  "My job is to protect the United States, which Hawaii and its surrounding waters are part of," said Captain Perry, looking steely eyed.

  I was calculating the chances of success if the bird kids staged a mutiny and seized control of the submarine, when Nudge suddenly said, "Where's Angel?"

  And if those words don't strike terror into your heart by now, then you haven't been paying attention.

  It took barely two minutes to search the entire sub. The systems engineer determined that someone had opened the diver's air lock approximately four minutes before.

  "She couldn't have gone out into the ocean!" the captain said, horrified. "The pressure at this depth is tons per square inch. She'd be crushed instantly!!"

  "Or… not," I said, looking out the window. The water, even with the floodlights shining into it, was cloudy and hard to see through. It was still full of bits o' 'bots, drifting downward like evil, metallic rain. Plus, all the explosions had stirred up aeons of debris on the ocean floor.

  Even so, I could see the light color of the small jumpsuit Angel had been wearing, and the flash of gold as her hair floated around her like a halo that she so did not deserve. She was dog-paddling away from the sub, looking extremely uncrushed and three-dimensional.

  "That's… impossible," Captain Perry said, sounding stunned.

  "Totally and completely impossible," John agreed, staring out the window in awe. "There's no way anyone could be out at this depth without a pressure suit and survive. It—it just can't be done."

  "Hello?" I said. "We're children with wings. And now gills. We fly. Angel can read minds and communicate with fish, Iggy can feel colors, Nudge can draw metal to her, and now you're saying that there's simply no way Angel could be out there? Have I mentioned the wings part?"

  John nodded, still looking shocked. "But still—this defies any kind of understanding we have of vertebrate animals. It's … almost impossible to comprehend."

  "You mean, more than the freaking wings?"

  Captain Perry looked at me seriously. "Yes, actually. More than the wings. This is, in fact, stranger and more impossible."

  "Oh," I said. "Well, then." I gave a little cough. "Anyway, let's get her back in. You got any of those claw-arm thingies?"

  "No, I'm afraid not," said Captain Perry.

  "Max," said Nudge. She turned away from the window with wide eyes. I hurried over and peered out into the murky water.

  "Oh, jeez," I said, my heart sinking. Or rather, sinking more.

  Angel, being Angel, was being: (1) stubborn, (2) a rule breaker, (3) not sensible, (4) reckless,… and (5)… swimming directly at a group of the sea monsters, who were heading toward our sub at light speed.

  "They're gonna kill her," Gazzy breathed, his face pale.

  Yeah, I thought grimly. And then I'll bring her back to life and kill her again, for doing this to us.

  One of the creatures spotted Angel. It slowed, turned, and began to head toward her.

  "Oh, God," Nudge squealed, covering her eyes. "Max! Do something!"

  I was already striding toward the door. "On it."

  71

  I SLAMMED MY FIST against the pressure pad that opened the air-lock chamber. I knew Captain Perry and the others were right behind me, and if they wanted to get sucked out of the diver air lock along with me, that was their business.

  Ten seconds ago, one of those creatures had been speeding toward Angel. That image, seared into my brain, made me feel sick. I couldn't believe that after all we'd been through, everything we'd done, Angel had basically just committed suicide by sea monster.

  The air-lock door opened, the interior of the chamber still wet from Angel's escape.

  Brigid grabbed my arm. "Max—don't," she said. "You know you can't go up against them. The best thing would be for us to get out of here, fast, before they start attacking the whole sub. Remember what they did to the Minnesota? This one is so much smaller and more vulnerable."

  "I have to go get Angel," I snarled with my endearing bulldog tenacity.

  "Max—you can't help her." Brigid sounded close to tears.

  "I'm not leaving her," I said, standing threateningly over Brigid, several inches taller. "If it's too late, then I'm bringing back her body. Either way, I'm not leaving without her." I looked at Captain Perry, John, Brigid, and the rest of the flock. "So suck it up and get out of my way."

  John looked at me for a long moment, then nodded, and carefully stepped out of the air-lock chamber. He touched Captain Perry's arm, and, frowning, Captain Perry left too.

  "Brigid," said John. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she let go of my arm and left the room, followed by a solemn, stiff-jawed flock.

  Except Fang.

  I glared at him. "Go on. Try to stop me. I dare you." It was like the old days when we used to wrestle, each trying to get the better of the other. I was ready to take him down, my hands curled into fists.

  "I was just going to say be careful," Fang told me. He stepped closer and brushed some hair out of my eyes. "And—I've got your back." He motioned with his head toward the torpedo chamber.

  Oh, my God. It hit me like a tsunami then: how perfect he was for me, how no one else would ever, could ever be so perfect for me, how he was everything I could possibly hope for, as a friend, boyfriend—maybe even more. He was it for me. There would be no more looking.

  I really, really loved him, wit
h a whole new kind of love I'd never felt before, something that made every other kind of love I'd ever felt just seem washed out and wimpy in comparison. I loved him with every cell in my body, every thought in my head, every feather in my wings, every breath in my lungs. And air sacs.

  Too bad I was going out to face almost certain death.

  Right there, in front of everyone, I threw my arms around his neck and smashed my mouth against his. He was startled for a second, then his strong arms wrapped around me so tightly I could hardly breathe.

  "ZOMG," I heard Nudge whisper, but still Fang and I kissed, slanting our heads this way and that to get closer. I could have stood there and kissed him happily for the next millennium, but Angel—or what was left of her—was still out there in the cold, dark ocean.

  Reluctantly, I ended the kiss, took a step back. Fang's obsidian eyes were glittering brightly, and his stoic face had a look of wonder on it.

  "Gotta go," I said quietly.

  A half smile quirked his mouth. "Yeah. Hurry back."

  I nodded, and he stepped out of the air-lock chamber, keeping his eyes fixed on me, memorizing me, as he hit the switch that sealed the chamber. The doors hissed shut with a kind of finality, and I realized my heart was beating so hard it felt like it was going to start snapping ribs.

  I was scared.

  I was crazily, deeply, incredibly, joyously, terrifiedly in love.

  I was on a death mission.

  Before my head simply exploded from too much emotion, I hit the large button that pressurized the air lock enough for the doors to open to the ocean outside. I really, really hoped that I would prove to be somewhat uncrushable, like Angel did.

  The doors cracked open below me, and I saw the first dark glint of frigid water.

  Showtime, folks.

  72

  THE ARTIFICIAL air pressure in the chamber allowed me to drop down into the water. Want to hear something funny? I took a deep breath first. Then I remembered I didn't have to.