D. MacHale - Black Water

Courtney scrambled up the rock face as quickly and expertly as if she were climbing a jungle gym at home. There were plenty of places for her to find handholds and spots to wedge her toes. Her soft, rubberlike Cloral swim shoes were almost as good as climbing boots. They weren’t much protection, but they allowed her to feel the rock and find safe purchase.

Spader climbed beneath her, doing his best to keep up without taking dangerous chances. He didn’t have the experience that Courtney did, but what he lacked in technique, he made up for in strength.

“There’s only one rule,” Courtney shouted down to him. “Keep moving and don’t look down.”

“That’s two rules,” Spader said.

Both tried not to think how a single misstep would be disaster. “How did the tangs get up here? I thought they couldn’t climb?” Courtney asked.

“Maybe there’s an easier way up,” Spader offered. “And we’re not on it because?”

“Because we don’t have time to look for it,” Spader answered quickly. “Less talking and more climbing, please.”

“Don’t climb directly under me,” Courtney warned. “Just in case.”

Spader knew what she meant. If she fell, there was a good chance she’d knock him off the face too.

“That’s three rules,” Spader said. “Now you’re getting bossy.” He stayed right under her. If she fell, he was going to do his best to save her…and the tank of antidote on her back.

“We’ve still got a shot,” Kasha said.

She dropped the gig so quickly, Bobby felt as if they were in a free fall. She clutched the joystick. Her eyes locked on her prey.

The yellow gig was flying low over the lake, lining up for its killer run at the gars. Without the use of its side rotors, the yellow gig flew slowly. Kasha nosed their gig down and picked up even more speed. The force made the fragile craft shudder. Bobby nervously gripped the side of the cockpit, though he knew it was a worthless precaution.

“You can pull out of this dive, right?” he asked nervously.

“I think,” Kasha said. “I’ve never tried it before.”

Bobby swallowed hard.

Kasha continued, “The trickier part will be timing the drop. If we miss, we won’t get a second chance.”

“Then don’t miss,” Bobby said flatly.

Kasha gave him a quick sideways glance, then focused back on her quarry. The yellow gig with the poison was still over the lake, flying very low. The klee pilot kept looking back over his shoulder to see how close his pursuers were.

“If he dumps the poison at that level, he’ll kill thousands,” Bobby said.

“Hang on,” Kasha shouted.

She leveled out the gig, once again pushing them both back into their seats with the added g force. She jammed the throttle to its limit. They screamed over the lake, gaining quickly on the yellow gig. Bobby glanced down at Kasha’s furry hand on the joystick. It looked as if she were battling to keep it under control.

“Little more… little more…,” she coaxed.

The yellow gig was nearing the shore. In seconds it would be over land, and soon after, it would be in range of the gars.

“See that lever below the console?” Kasha asked between gritted teeth.

Bobby looked to see a dark, curved lever sticking up from the floor.

“Yeah,” Bobby answered.

“When I say pull…pull.”

Bobby reached down and grabbed hold. “Got it,” he said.

The klee in the yellow gig was focused on his deadly mission. Bobby glanced ahead to see they were getting so close to the gars, he could see their faces. He knew that in a few seconds, they could all be dead. Kasha pushed the joystick forward. The last bit of speed put them directly over the klee’s gig.

“Pull!” Kasha yelled.

Bobby yanked the handle and heard what sounded like a clatter of metal, followed by a horrifying, wrenching sound. Kasha pulled back on the stick and they climbed quickly. Bobby struggled against the force of the climb to turn around to see if they were on target.

They were. The rotors of the yellow gig were torn apart by the pile of tools that landed directly on them.

“Bull’s-eye!” Bobby shouted.

The net got wound up and caused two of the rotors to seize. It wasn’t total destruction, but enough to make the gig about as flight worthy as a watermelon. The klee struggled out of the cockpit and leapt for his life. Bobby figured he didn’t want to be anywhere near the spot where the poison landed. The klee plummeted straight down as the gig sailed forward. The klee hit the water first. Bobby saw him go under, then surface and swim frantically for shore. A few seconds later the gig splashed down. The damaged rotors continued to turn, frothing up the water like an outboard motor. The craft quickly flipped on its side and sank.

Kasha and Bobby sailed over the startled gars, who pointed up at them like they were some kind of prehistoric flying beast. The happy gars had no idea their journey had nearly ended in death. Kasha banked around and flew back over the spot where the gig sank. The only sign of it were the gentle ripples that spread out across the lake.

“Do you think the tank ruptured?” Bobby asked. “Maybe not,” Kasha answered. “They’re pretty strong.” Bobby finally took a deep, relieved breath and said, “You’re good.”

Kasha gave him a smug smile. “Do you think it’s over?” she asked. “Was that Saint Dane’s play?”

Bobby thought long and hard about the answer. “It could be,” he said. “But whenever I think Saint Dane is done, he isn’t.”

“So what should we do?” Kasha asked. “Back to Leeandra?”

“He’s still got nine tanks of that poison,” Bobby said somberly. “Back to Leeandra.”

Kasha banked the gig and set a course back to the jungle city.

“Let’s hope we don’t have to go through that nine more times,” she said as she gunned the throttle.

Mark was taking a crash course in learning how to ride a zenzen…self-taught. After struggling to figure out how to steer the animal and nearly hitting into more than one tree, he finally got the knack. It helped that the zenzen was too exhausted to put up much of a fight. Between riding in circles for a while, and not being sure of where he was in the first place, it took Mark a good half hour to find his way back to where they had been ambushed by the tang.

The only sign of the attack was a shredded piece of cloth lying on the jungle floor. There was no Gunny and no Boon. Mark sat on the zenzen, feeling more alone than he had felt in his entire life.

“This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be,” he said to himself.

Mark had dozens of different fantasies about what it would be like joining Bobby in the fight against Saint Dane. None of them involved being left alone, lost, fearing that Courtney was dead, with the last hope for saving a territory strapped to his back. As he sat on the zenzen, he truly didn’t know what he was going to do. He came dangerously close to crying.

That’s when he heard a sound. It had been there before; he just hadn’t registered it. It was a steady, white noise kind of sound. Mark looked to where it was coming from to see the top of a waterfall rising above the trees. Thewaterfall. Second from the right. Mark took a deep breath and blew it out to calm himself. He took hold of the reins and gave the zenzen a kick. Using his newly found expertise, he directed the animal to carry him on the final leg of his journey.

To Black Water.

(CONTINUED)

Kasha and Bobby werecruising high over the jungle, headed back toward Leeandra when Kasha spotted something far in the distance, just above the horizon. “Do you see that?” she asked.

Bobby strained to look and saw what appeared to be a dark line in the sky running parallel to the ground, headed toward them.