Peter Lerangis - The Tomb of Shadows

“Where were the mainland ops when we needed them in Rhodes and Iraq?” Cass asked.

“We were incognito in Greece, and they had no clue where we were,” I said. “But you did see some of them in Iraq. Remember those teams that took those shifts along the Euphrates?”

Aly swiveled in her seat and reached out to touch Cass’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was just run over by a knat,” Cass replied.

“Knat?” Torquin grunted.

“Backwardish for tank,” Aly said. “Which means he’s feeling better.”

“I’d feel even better with some ice cream,” Cass went on. “Actually, any food.”

Torquin held up a greasy paper bag. “Iguana jerky. Cajun spice flavor.”

Cass groaned. “Any food except that.”

I saw a distant, shining, metallic cigar shape on the water below. A tanker, maybe, or cruise ship. It glinted in the sun, sending up sparks of light. For a moment I thought someone was trying to send us Morse code. Rubbing my eyes, I looked away. I needed to get some rest.

“I can’t figure it out,” Aly said. “How did the Massa escape? Where did they go?”

“And why didn’t my mom tell us we were heading into a trap?” I added. “She could have sent a message to her own phone. She knows I have it.”

“But she’s one of them!” Aly said. “Her mind has been turned.”

I glared at her. “I’m her son, Aly! Parents care about their kids. It’s … it’s just built in.”

“Well …” Cass muttered.

We glanced back to where he was lying.

Cass, who hadn’t seen his parents in years. Because they were in jail. Because they had abandoned him to a life of orphanages and foster parents.

I took a deep breath. “Hey, I—I’m sorry.”

But Cass’s eyes were wide with fright. The plane had begun to shake. We dropped like a roller coaster. My seat belt cut into my gut and I gripped my handrests.

Aly let out a gasp. “Does this mean we’re getting close?”

Torquin nodded. “Entering KI territory.”

“You’re doing that on purpose!” Cass said.

“Magnetic forces,” Torquin said with a shrug.

“Something extremely gross will fly out of my stomach and magnetize to the back of your neck if you don’t fly better,” Cass replied.

I saw Mount Onyx first, rising like a black fist from the water. In a moment we saw home—our new home, an island undetectable by even the most sophisticated instruments.

“What the …?” Aly said.

My eyes locked on the location of the Karai Institute campus, where I expected to see the lush green quadrangle, surrounded by brick buildings.

In its place was a giant plume of black smoke.

THE PLANE BANKED sharply right, away from the campus.

“Where are you going?” I demanded. “The airport is in the other direction!”

“Back of island,” Torquin said. “Change in plans.”

“It’s all jungle on that side!” Cass said. “We’ll never land this thing there.”

“Airport too dangerous,” Torquin declared.

“It’ll take hours to hike through the trees,” I said. “We need to get there fast, Torquin. The institute is on fire.”

Torquin ignored us both, yanking the steering mechanism again.

My stomach jumped up toward my throat. We were out over the water, circling farther away from land. As it vanished over the horizon, Torquin banked again.

We zoomed back in, toward the rear of the island. It was a blanket of green, surrounded by a thin sliver of beach. “The sand is too narrow!” Aly said, her voice rising in panic.

“Banzaiii!” Torquin yelled.

The plane’s nose pointed downward. I gripped the armrest. From behind, Cass grabbed my arm. He was screaming. Or maybe that was me. I couldn’t tell. As the plane dove, I closed my eyes.

We hit hard. My back jammed down into my hips, like I’d been squashed by an ogre. Cass slammed into the back of my seat. A deafening roar welled up around us as water slammed against the windows.

“Sand too narrow,” Torquin replied. “But sea not too narrow.”

As the jet’s forward momentum slowed to a stop, the windows cleared. I could see the island shore about a football field’s length away from us, separated by an expanse of ocean.

Cass’s eyes were tightly closed. “Are we dead?”

“No, but I think I sprouted some gray hairs,” Aly said, “aside from the lambda on the back of my head. Torquin, what are we doing here?”

Torquin mumbled something in a hurry. He jabbed a button, and Slippy began speeding toward the island on its superlight aluminum-alloy pontoons.

Cass, Aly, and I shared a baffled look. My heart was racing. As the pontoons made contact with sand, we jumped out. Torquin opened a compartment in the back of the plane and pulled out a huge pack of equipment. I’d never seen him move so fast.

Aly stared, ankle-deep in water. “Torquin, I am not moving another step until you talk to us. In full sentences. With an explanation!”

Torquin handed us each a flak vest, a machete, a lightweight helmet, and a belt equipped with knives and water canisters. “These are for protection,” he snapped. “Island is under attack.”

“You know that just from that smoke?” Aly said.

“Where smoke, fire,” Torquin replied. “Where fire, attack.”

His logic was not perfect, but when I saw the furious glint in his eyes I decided not to argue. Aly and Cass clearly felt the same way. We suited up quickly. Weighted down by the equipment, we waded to the shore. The trees formed a thick, impenetrable wall. No paths in sight.

Torquin stopped, carefully looking around. “Wait. Easy to get lost.”

“Just follow me,” Cass said. “We have the sun, the shore, the slope of the land, and Mount Onyx. More than enough points for geographic triangulation. We don’t need a map.”

We didn’t question him. Cass was a human GPS. He could memorize maps and routes to the inch.

“Need dictionary,” Torquin gruffed, as we all started after Cass.

* * *

I didn’t know which was worse—the smothering heat of the sun, the bug bites that made my legs look like raw hamburger, the screeching of animals we couldn’t see, or the smell of the smoke.

It was all horrible.

I knew Torquin’s analysis had to be wrong. The island was shielded by some force that made it impossible to find by anybody. But what had happened? An electrical short circuit? A lightning hit?

I dreaded what we would find.

Cass stumbled and stopped. His face was bright red, his clothes drenched. Setting his backpack down, he sat on a tree stump. “Dry …” he said.

“Have some water,” Aly said, unscrewing her canteen.

Cass waved it away. “I’m okay,” he said. “I meant, the land is dry. The trees, too. If the breeze pushes the fire in this direction, we’re toast. Literally.”

I nodded. “Let’s stay close, in case we have to retreat to the beach.”

“We have to help them,” Cass said, wiping his head. “We have to be like Marco. He would never retreat.”

“Marco,” Aly said, “retreated from us.”

I helped Cass to his feet. He quickly slipped ahead of Torquin, taking the lead. We were passing Mount Onyx now. Below us were Jeep tracks, where we’d raced back to the campus when the griffin attacked.

Cass picked up the pace. The smell was pungent and strong. White ash floated down through the treetops. Monkey screeches and birdcalls echoed around us. But I could hear other sounds now. Voices. Distant shouts.

“Stop!” Torquin ordered.

We nearly plowed into each other. Torquin passed us, squinting into the smoky air. I followed closer and saw what looked like an enormous spiderweb, strung between trees. “Security fence,” Torquin said. “High voltage.”