The Isle (21 page)

“
K
eep moving!” Chief yells from the ballroom balcony as I maneuver too slowly through the hallway of mattresses. The steel GPS tracking cuff he outfitted me with blinks red at my wrist. Dunn knows where I am and how slow I'm going. And if I stop moving, he knows when to bark at me.

I give him my best “Yessir” nod and quickly send off three comms: one to Derek, one to Ter—and the last to Callum, asking him not to tell Aven. I don't want her worrying about something that might not happen.

Looking up from my cuffcomm, I nearly collide with two girls in DI uniform, younger than Aven by no more than a year.

“What'll you do when you're rich?” I overhear.

The second girl grins and shrugs. “I'll wear my fancy clothes to my fancy school and eat anything I fancy,” she answers between bites. “You?”

“Every time someone drinks water, I'll inform them that they should thank me for my contribution.” The girls giggle, so damn ready for a future Dunn never should have promised in the first place.

My insides unravel.

Tomorrow, this kid's gonna see her blood spill on foreign soil. I'm not sure it matters that the wound won't last.

“Ren!”

Not Dunn this time—my black-and-blue heart jumps at the familiar voice. I spin around and find Derek right there. My rib cage clenches, squeezing my lungs of air. He looks at me, his hair the color of luck.

Once upon a time, I wanted luck from no one, not even Aven.
Good skill
, she said instead. Now, I'll take luck from anybody willing to hand it over. As I walk, I rub both pennies on my necklace. I wonder if they're dual-function charms: skill
and
luck would be great.

I turn away from Derek. “Dunn's watching. I can't stop,” I say, and push toward the front entrance.

Making myself forget that I might not return from this.

“What is this plan, Ren?” He stops me, touches his hand to my shoulder. I survey the room to check if Dunn's watching—he's on the balcony, poring over at least a half dozen map holos with his second-in-command.

This could be our good-bye
, I realize.
And we only just
began.
Without warning, I take Derek's arms and wrap them around my waist. Loving isn't something to be put off.

“I have to,” I whisper into his mouth, then breathe a kiss onto his bottom lip. “I-I—can destroy it, Derek. With my blood . . . my parents, they—” The words cramp in my throat. “They knew about the spring. My mother drank it while she was pregnant, and now I have some poisonous protein in my blood. With enough of it, I can kill off the ecosystem. For good.”

Derek's rust eyes search mine. “Who are your parents, Ren?”

I don't know how to tell him. I can barely say it myself. “I need you to trust me.”

He stumbles over his words, runs a hand through his hair. “Ren, of course I trust you. I just—”

“There's no reason to stop me. Callum figured out a way to make more water . . . since you'll need it.”

From the balcony, Dunn shouts, “
What did I say, Agent Dane!
Report to the front entrance
immediately
—my unit is waiting on you!” In the grand space his voice booms, and now I've got everyone's eyes on my back.

Derek's attention is elsewhere. “Dammit,” he curses, looking over my shoulder. “Kitaneh.”

I turn—a girl with onyx hair spilling behind her like a black flag rushes for the entrance. She casts us a cutthroat look before disappearing through the double doors.

Brack.

“Now she knows I'm leading a unit,” I whisper, kicking my
heel against the marble floor. “Fantastic.”

“I'll comm her—let her know this isn't what it looks like. May not do any good, though; she's been unreachable since I left.”

“I have to go,” I tell him again once Kitaneh's out of sight.

The entire walk to the front entrance, Derek's at my side, shuffling to keep up. When I don't slow down, it hits him: This is for real. I'm not turning back.

“Don't do it, Ren,” he begs, resting a hand on my elbow. “If what you're saying is true—if your blood really could—you don't know how much . . .”

. . . blood I'd need to spill for it to work.

“Callum's doing the math.”

“Even if you do have enough blood . . . ,” Derek goes on. He's afraid for me, and it's made him agitated. “You could die too soon, before the ecosystem does. Your heart would stop pumping.”

That is a great point.

“Then I'll have to stay alive until it's done.”

As I stop at the front entrance, Derek's whole body tenses up under his lab coat.

“Once I get to your apartment, I won't know how to reach the cave. Kitaneh's gonna be ready—Lucas too, and with the DI along for the ride, I'll need your help holding them off. Will you help me?”

Derek looks away. He's steeling himself—against
me
. Against what I'm about to do, and what I'm asking of him. He gives a sharp nod. He doesn't want me to do this thing, but
he knows there's no use arguing. “I'll see you on the other side, then.”

He is referring to the other side of the Hudson Strait, that I know.

But I can't ignore the double meaning.

“
I
nto the Cloud!” Benny shouts, as if it were our very own battleship—not the word for fluffy white sky bunnies. He steers up to the coast, engine sputtering. “Now what's this about going to the Falls?” he says as Ter jumps in, tossing his new shooter under the seat. Callum follows, wriggling over the rail and cursing the cuffs still locked around his wrists.

“Dunn's got an army,” I say, and throw one leg into the boat.

“Yes, yes, that I heard over their comms.” Benny holds out his arm for me but Ter nudges him out of the way. I let him give me a little lift.

“An
invincible
army,” I clarify.

Benny shoots us a look. “Young folk should never tease their elders.”

“No one's teasing.” Agitated, Ter scratches his temple and gives Benny the abridged version of our night. “Aven wants to talk to Magistrate Harcourt. She thinks that, maybe, if we put a face on the UMI's situation, he might have a change of heart.”

Benny rubs his wiry whiskers, considering. “Perhaps,” he says. “It's certainly a different approach. Still, we should be prepared for disappointment; I don't trust Harcourt will be so easily swayed. Those in power usually aren't. It makes them look bad, even when it's human decency on the line.”

Ter grips my arm and listens to the wind. Benny hears it too. Behind us, the rumbling of revved-up engines chase across the islet. They're headed for us.

“T-minus now!” Benny shouts, throwing the wheel right. His Cloud kicks a great frothy wave against the bank as we speed along the wooded islet. I fall into the plush white vinyl seat, thankful for its cloudiness.

A pair of beamers carves around the islet's tail, careening over black water. Another follows, racing to catch up with the first.

“A chase will just eat up gas,” Benny says, cutting the lights. The Cloud slows to a crawl along Castle Islet's swampy west coast. Long branches dip their fingers into the water, and roots claw at us from underneath.

We veer around trees wider than the chief's own body. Benny parks between two giant trunks, both with cascading greenish leaves. We're in almost total darkness now, except for the moon and the yellow headlights.

Through the branches, both Omnis veer closer. They're
only a few hundred feet away. When the second one drops behind the first, Ter squints, shaking his head. “What's he doing?” he asks.

A scraping noise claws apart the quiet. The second Omni collides into the first, tearing off his rear propellers—they spin off, cutting up the water.

“That's Sipu . . . ,” I whisper, clutching the rail. In the pit, I see her bleached hair, as bright as a lighthouse.

The DI Omni seesaws—Sipu pushes him into the coast. Her mobile, relatively undamaged, reverses. All's quiet until she bumps the DI mobile again . . . this time, she doesn't back away. She uses the mobile's bullet-shaped nose to steer him toward a massive tree's tangled roots. Then she slips underwater. She lifts the DI Omni from its undercarriage and deposits him even deeper into the thicket.

“She's jamming his comm,” Ter says, and Benny nods in agreement.

The DI can't free himself, not without the use of its rear propellers—he's stuck there.

“Let's go,” Ter says, fumbling through Benny's dash. Finding a spool of thick boating wire, he plops down in front of Callum and begins poking around in the handcuff's lock.

Benny brings us out of the watery forest and follows the coast north. On our right, a few hundred feet off, we pass Castle Isle's north pier—and a half dozen docked Omnis.

No one breathes.

The Hudson Strait opens up in front of us, two miles wide. The Ward's toothy, spired skyline shoots up from the other coast. A steady breeze plays over the river's black water and
Sipu trails our sluggish wake.

The half dozen DI Omnis recede into the distance, staying where they are.

Callum exhales as his metal handcuffs fall to the floor with a
chink.

Thank you
, he mouths to Ter, flexing his wrists.

After a few silent minutes, Benny reaches under his seat. He lays a large, old piece of paper on the wheel.

“Where we headed?” Ter asks, gathering around. I join too, but Callum stays where he is, fumbling with his comm.

Benny points to a spot north of us. “About thirty miles more.”

“Thirty miles doesn't sound that bad. From top to bottom the Ward is about ten, right?” I say.

“DI,” Callum warns, pointing back toward the north pier. A single yellow beam swings away from the Castle Isle coastline. It shoots forward into the middle of the strait . . . still a good mile away, though.

I grip the rail with both hands. “You think he sees us?”

“No idea,” Ter answers.

“Let's give Sipu a chance to head him off,” Callum says. “If we jump the gun, we'll end up with a dozen of them on our back.” Benny agrees and holds course, not driving faster or slower.

Leaning against the Cloud's rail, Ter, Callum, and I watch as the Omni swings left. North—
toward us.

“We stay as we are.” Benny's voice is firm. “We'll give her two minutes. If after two minutes, nothing—”

He doesn't need to finish his sentence: immediately, we
hear the high-pitched sounds of metal scraping metal, like two mobiles grinding sides. The DI Omni nears, zigzagging down the strait, but never losing pace.

“Does anyone have Sipu's comm ID? Can we reach her?” Benny asks.

Callum, Ter, and I exchange glances—no one answers.

Then Sipu's Omni rises out of the water. She races forward, and for a few seconds, it's a battle of speed. The two are neck and neck. She spins her wheel, cutting into his, but he doesn't slow. He only veers farther and farther east, until he's able to make a complete turn, facing back in our direction.

The inside of my palms sting from clutching the rail so tight.

Ter takes my hand and holds it flat against his. “It's not even a competition.”

I frown, feeling my palm grow sticky against his, but I see he's right—Sipu's Omni has taken off again.

She's gunned her engine until she and the DI are parallel, and then she rides it even harder. Her mobile flies over rocking waves, gaining speed, moving ever faster. It reminds me of a holo I once saw showing the moment a meteor broke the atmosphere, seconds before becoming a fiery mess.

She whooshes past the DI's mobile on the left and, spinning the wheel, she cuts him off at a T. Then she kills the engine.

“What's she doing?” I ask. At the same time, I cover my mouth with understanding.

A white-hot boom cracks the night wide open. Like a sun
exploding, the two mobiles fly together, then apart, in great pops of spewing metal—an orange cloud burns on the horizon, violent, sparking into the water.

I gasp, choking on air. I shake my head as the tears crawl against my eyes. “B-but—” I stammer. “Did they both . . . ?”

“That kind of crash, at that speed,” Ter says, lowering his eyes. He lays his hand on the small of my back. The Cloud revs to life. I'm thrown hard into the rail, like I've been punched in the gut. My hair curtains out around my head, a white tunnel trailing the Cloud. Strands stick to my cheeks.

In the distance—one final, blazing gasp. It sets the black water aglow, and then the strait swallows it whole.

It's consumed everything.

Left nothing behind.

I
n the shallow moat, Dunn has assembled a unit of four Omnis docked side by side. Their black chrome exteriors are nearly invisible in the water. Meanwhile, a giant red-bottomed vessel churns downriver. Fluorescent floodlights illuminate a bare deck—
the barge
.

Fighting a tightness in my throat, I hop into the only Omni still empty—a single-seater, best for navigating small spaces. The convex moonroof shudders closed, giving me a plastic view of the night sky.

A panel of neon-green buttons on the dashboard control shi-shi things: internal temperature and the gender of the VoiceNav. I tap the screen, and it draws me an underwater map of the UMI.

The VoiceNav beeps twice, ready for me to tell it where to go.

“Lihn's Take-Out,” I say into the mic.

That'll get me close enough, as the restaurant and Derek's place neighbor each other. It also won't give Dunn an exact location. On the Nav screen, a fat yellow line worms its way through the old city's rubbish, ending at my destination.

Estimated time is about thirty-five minutes to cross the strait.

The mobile submerges. Bubbles trace around the moonroof and disappear. I don't have to step on nothin'—the Omni does all the work: a mobile with military capabilities adapted for even the laziest of folk. It spins out east, headlong into the strait. Like a needle of light, its beamers pierce the brack water. They shine on the sunken city—geometric structures covered in fuzzy green.

I take even breaths, force the calm down into my nervous system. I think about being inside a twister, where they say you don't get swept up. Through the rounded glass, building remnants give way to a riverbed of seaweed. Schools of fish shimmer past.

Flanked by two DI Omni and trailed by a third, I make my way across the strait. No scenic underwater buildings here, just days and days of open water. I adjust the speed to an easy cruise, and I wait.

“In approximately three hundred feet, you will have arrived at your destination,” the Nav's cool voice informs before I get a visual confirmation. Moments later, boxy
structures wrapped in green wool are my welcoming committee. Hairy plants wave us by in slow motion.

The mobile veers between two buildings, down what was once a road. Its internal proximity sensor kicks in—a sharp left, then right. It even avoids land mobiles, now no more than muddy, leftover lumps.

I feel useless, despite my lofty decision—destroying this planet's greatest curse and its greatest miracle.

In the rear and side mirrors, three Omnis still surround me.

A few blocks from the famous Lihn's Take-Out, I spot twin black chrome Omnis. Our parade of headlights has caught their attention, blood in the water. One for Kitaneh and one for Lucas.

Guess Derek's comm disappeared into the void.

The mobiles cross each other, then blow toward me.

Now's no time for autopilot
. Reaching under the wheel, I disengage so I'm back in manual.

“Agent Dane!” I hear through the mobile's internal comm—it's from one of the other Omnis. “Explain to me why we are under attack—”

The speaker cuts out, replaced with white noise. I try to send a message to Dunn from my own cuffcomm, but the timewheel just spins around and around and the message never sends. Nav system's gone dark as well.

Only one answer: Kitaneh's jammed both the GPS and all outgoing radio signals . . . she don't want anyone finding out where we are. I might be able to receive messages, but I'd have to get one to know.

I do the only sane thing I can think of—gun the engine and make off like a tuna fish with a rocket on its back. Thankfully, in this baby, there's no lag time.

I slingshot right past one of the black bullets.

Through the window, I spot the Derek look-alike. His square jaw has more iron than his brother's.

Spinning the wheel to the right, I take off down a sliver of a road. An alley, hardly wider than this Omni. I'm right where I found the airlock. That time, I broke the code and swam to the spring from inside.

Doubt it'll work twice. Kitaneh would have changed the code, for sure.
I need Derek to find me a different way in.

I check the rear, curious to see how she's handling three DI all by her lonesome. She dives under one Omni, scraping its undercarriage. It takes me a moment, but then I see what she's doing—she's trying to either jam their artillery barrel with the darts inside, or knock them loose.

Like a black cloud, Lucas's mobile floats into the cramped alley, blocking my view.

I angle my wheel upward to bring the Omni diagonal. Then, straight vertical. Finally, I'm rolling backward, nose over butt in a perfect 180.

I hope my heart doesn't fall out of my mouth like emptying the garbage. Dangling by the grace of my seat belt, the blood rushes to my eyeballs. I flex my quads, using the muscle as a buffer between the seat belt and my thigh fat.

I gun the engine, leaving Lucas behind.

Ahead, Kitaneh's playing cat and mouse, attacking and
dodging at the last possible moment. One DI tries to launch a dart into her mobile, but it sputters underneath him—her sabotage was a success. The two Omnis go nose-to-nose, at a stalemate.

A fifth DI joins the fray.

It targets another DI Omni. A dart ejects from its undercarriage, followed by a net. The dart strikes home, and the net wraps itself around the mobile. Its props slow, caught up in the tough cord.

It's Derek
—I inhale, spotting his lucky hair glinting in the cockpit.

He targets the Omni still nose-to-nose with Kitaneh.

No dart this time—he just catapults himself through the water.

It's a suicide mission . . . Derek's ten feet from the other Omni. Eight feet, no intention of slowing.
What's he playing at?
My knuckles go bone-white on the steering wheel. I hold my breath, watching. Kitaneh, however, seems like she might have a clue. She waits there, eye-to-eye with the DI mobile, as Derek races closer.

Moments before the two collide, Derek dives from the airlock. I gasp, loosening my grip on the wheel. A beamer severed from the totaled Omni floats to the riverbed, lighting up Derek's hair. He's a copper fish swimming through river mud, appearing in my windshield. Past him, I can make out Kitaneh's headlights—she cuts around a corner, disappearing.

Tap, tap, tap—

Frenzied, I glance around the pit. Finding the button that opens the airlock, I slam it down much harder than necessary.

Derek swims in. The airlock closes behind him and water drains away. He falls into the small space behind my seat, a soggy, sodden mess.

“You pulled a me,” I inform him, impressed, keeping an eye on the remaining two Omnis. Their yellow beamers zig and zag, aimless. They're blind as bats until the mud settles.

Derek shakes his head like a dog, brack water spitting around the pit. “To the cave?” he asks, hoping I've changed my mind.

I haven't.

I nod.

Derek's cuffcomm buzzes. “It's Sipu,” he says, confused. “She just sent me coordinates.”

“Coordinates?”

Shrugging, he shows me the message:

           
40°46'42.46"N, 74° 0'11.37"W

“No idea,” he says, lowering his wrist.

Kneeling behind me, Derek lays his hand on my knee. “I can get us to the cave—
us
, Ren. I'm coming with you. You're not dying, not on my watch. If that means I have to keep you alive every step of the way, that's what I'm doing.”

I take his hand in mine. Our fingers interlock, and we
squeeze palms. If he's expecting me to put up a fight, he's mistaken
.
“Okay,” I say.

That's my only answer.

I don't want to do this alone
.