James Patterson - Max

“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 what 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.

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.

To save face, I started barking orders anyway. “Let’s go up front, by the main hatch,” I commanded, oozing confidence. “If we have to abandon ship, that’s where we’ll escape from.”

We waited for a break in the line of running sailors, then threw ourselves into the passageway and started rushing forward. It seemed to take forever, with us hurrying and jumping over all the raised thresholds. Around us, sailors were sealing off compartments with their little turny-wheel things.

All of a sudden Angel stopped dead, causing the rest of us to pile into her.

“Angel, go!” I yelled.

“No, wait!” she said, holding up her hand.

“We can’t wait! We need to get up front! Move it!”

“Wait,” she insisted. “It’s the dumb-bots.”

“Whaat?”

“It’s those M-Geeks, the dumb-bots,” Angel said. “They’re trying to get into the sub.”

Lovely, just lovely. I’ll fight anything on the surface or in the air, but under water? I was literally out of my element, so much more than anyone else is who says they’re out of their element, like at a party. I pictured the M-Geeks drilling through the sub walls, pictured it filling up with water, with us trapped inside…