The Battle Begins (18 page)

38

E
VER SINCE THE DAY HE'D SPRAINED HIS SHOULDER, AND
Marcus had learned the truth about the Unnaturals, Pete had been helping Marcus come back to the facility to visit the animals without Bruce or his mom knowing. But this was the first time he'd gotten up the courage to watch a live match, and he'd picked a doozy.

It was even worse than he'd feared, and Marcus wasn't sure he could watch another second of this slaughter. He couldn't stand the meanness of it all, written on
every cheering face. He shifted his gaze from the battle to the space high above the field, where Joni Juniper's avatar refereed, silently begging her to stop the match. He couldn't catch her eye, but when the stadium lights switched over to a spotlight on the two tigers, Marcus did see something else.

Someone else, in the strangest of places.

High atop one of the light posts, Marcus caught the sudden movement of a figure standing up. He commanded his simulink vision chip to zoom in and saw it was a girl.
The
girl—the one he'd met in the training center days ago, with the tan skin and smart eyes and strange intensity.

Though he definitely hadn't expected to see her tonight, she was the whole reason he was here. And now she was leaving.

Marcus watched as she climbed into a hole at the top of the post and disappeared inside. Then there was that guy from before, too—the bully—climbing down after her.

Marcus leapt out of his seat, too. He felt bad for leaving after he'd begged Pete to get him these tickets, but he'd seen enough. And he had to catch up with the girl.

Trying to protect both his hurt arm and his skateboard, Marcus pushed past other fans and their annoyed
protests until he reached the aisle. Then he took the stairs two at a time and when he got to the bottom, he ran. He got to a maze of interior hallways, where he could no longer see inside the Dome, and he looked around, unsure which path to take.

Luckily, a sudden, loud siren answered his question.

Down the hall to his left, he saw them standing in front of the fire alarm, and they saw him watching. In the next instant, the boy was running. The girl stared at Marcus for a second, and then she took off, too, her long braid swinging behind her.

“Wait!” Marcus yelled, but obviously, there was no way they were stopping.

This is why you carry a skateboard.

He kicked hard and tore after them, his wheels spinning over the waxed floor so fast that the deck shook beneath his feet. His bum arm made him teeter a bit, but he was still gaining on the two kids. When they disappeared around a corner to the right, he pressed on his back foot to make the sharp turn, almost careening into the girl.

He reached his good arm out and caught her hand. Apparently, she wasn't expecting it, though. He heard her black boots skid on the floor, then she whipped around and yanked her arm away from him.

Marcus, already off balance, went flying off his board to crash and burn. The floor seemed a lot less smooth when your bare skin was dragging on it, and now his injured arm wasn't just aching, it was throbbing. Marcus groaned, and the girl's face appeared above him, her cool blue steak of hair dangling in her eyes.

“Hey.” Marcus smiled, but the girl didn't smile back.

“Don't ever grab me like that,” she told him, but despite the anger in her voice, it softened a little when she saw him cradling his arm. “You fall a lot, huh?”

She reached down to help him up, and Marcus felt pretty awkward, but he took her hand, hoping his own wasn't too sweaty.

“Sorry,” he said when they were face-to-face. “I'm Marcus, by the way.”

He waited for the girl to say her own name, but she shot Marcus a guarded look and crossed her arms. “Did you . . . follow me here?”

“What?” Marcus's face flushed. “No! I was in the stands. I had seats. I mean, my brother got me tickets. . . .” He must sound like such a lame sky kid right now. He knew how expensive Dome seats were, and he'd only gotten them because Pete had a hookup at work.

The girl glanced behind her at her friend, who was beckoning to her from down the hall.

“Anyway,” he said quickly, before she could leave, “I saw you up on the light thingy, and I just needed to tell you that you were right.”

“About you being a Moniac?” She raised a dark eyebrow at him questioningly.

Real smooth, Marcus.

“No. I mean what you said about me being a phony for not seeing the live matches.”

After he'd learned the truth about the mutant animals, Marcus had gotten rid of all his most valuable Moniac cards and he'd stopped following the stats. He never wanted to see the Unnaturals fight again, but when the girl said he couldn't really understand how the animals felt without being with them in the Dome, he knew he had to do it. Just once.

“You were right. It's way worse being here, but I'm glad I came. And I'm really glad you pulled the alarm when you did.”

The girl shrugged like it was no big deal, but he could tell she was proud. “Hey, if we do something, maybe things will change, right?”

Hearing his own words, Marcus beamed. He was about to ask her name, and what the Drain was like, and how she got up on that light post, and how she thought
they could save the Unnaturals, and a million other things.

Instead, right then, the doors from the Dome banged open, and the crowd started to pour through them. Marcus could see blue lights flashing around the corner.

“Leesa, let's GO!” the older boy yelled, and pushed through the emergency exit at the end of the hall.

Then the wave of people closed in around him, and before Marcus could even reach for his skateboard, the girl—Leesa—was gone.

39

C
ASTOR LAY SPRAWLED ON HIS BELLY ON THE FLOOR OF
his cell, his wings splayed limply behind him. His chin rested on his front paws, and he stared through the glass wall into Enza's empty room. The Whistlers were working on replacing the fourth door, and they'd cleaned the floors and walls. Yet there was no sign of Enza, and no telling whether she was coming back.

When the Whistlers carried Enza off the field after the loud bell ended the match, they'd taken her through
a big red exit door at the back of the stadium, where they transported only the most serious injuries. Moss said animals almost never came back from the “Hurt Door.”

She could be dead for all he knew.

Castor heard keys jingling in the hall, but he didn't even lift his head—it was just the medic, coming to check on the bump on his head. Pete was gentle with him, but Castor doubted he would've noticed if the man had been rough. His body felt as numb as his mind. All he could focus on was Enza's empty bed in the cell next door.

The medic saw him staring. “You're worried about her, aren't you, buddy? She had a rough go, but I think she's going to be okay thanks to the fire alarm.” Pete chewed his lip like he did when he was thinking of breaking the rules, and Castor's ears perked up. “Maybe in a few days I can take you over to see her or—”

Castor jerked his head up and gave a sharp yip. He was alert now, his ears standing up, his eyes pleading. He pawed at Pete's leg.

“Or I could take you right now, I guess?”

Castor barked his appreciation, actually wagging his tail now. Pete clipped on a leash, and Castor bounded after him through the door. The medic was visibly nervous as they went through checkpoints on the way to the care center, but the halls were empty. The jingle of his
keys and Castor's clicking claws were the only sounds in the maze of empty hallways.

Inside the little white room of the clinic, the giant bear was laid out on a gurney that took up most of the room. Her orange-striped tail hung limply off the end of it, and Castor would've thought she was dead if it wasn't for the awful rumbling sound her chest made with each breath.

Castor immediately ran to the gurney, stood on his hind legs to reach Enza's lolling head, and sniffed at her for signs of life. Enza opened her eyes and, despite her saber teeth, it almost seemed like she was smiling. Castor knew it wasn't possible, but he could've sworn he heard a purr.

“See? She's just a little banged up, like you were,” Pete said with forced enthusiasm. “She'll be good as new in a few weeks.”

But Castor knew the grizzly was in rough shape. Her head was wrapped in gauze, and where the fur on one shoulder had been shaved, the skin underneath was a mess from the scorpion sting.

“Hang in there,” Castor told her. “Team Scratch needs you, Enza. Who else is going to make us run faster, jump higher, and train harder?”

In truth, Castor couldn't care less about training
anymore—what was the point? But he needed Enza to know she had friends. That was what she'd really wanted, after all.

“Time to change that dressing,” Pete said, gathering his tools.

When the medic touched her, Enza's eyes squinched shut, and she let out a heart-wrenching groan. Castor whimpered himself, wishing he could help her.

“This is all my fault,” he said, licking her face.

“No,” Enza said, her breath heaving. “You said to remember who I was. But I didn't want to be who I was before, Castor. I didn't want to be scared and self-conscious, a follower. I wanted to be the tiger you saw in me. A huntress, a queen . . .”

She winced as Pete swiped a cotton ball over her wounds.

“You are,” Castor said.

“I'm lucky the bell went off before he was finished with me,” Enza shook her head sadly. “I should've gone through the fourth door when I had a chance. Anything would've been better than this. Promise me you'll go, Castor,” Enza begged with shining eyes. “If you ever see an open door, promise me you'll run!”

FINAL FLIGHT

“Big Cat Face-off Ends in Alarm Bells

and Death Knells!”

“The Fearless Learns Meaning of Fear!”

“Will Team Scratch's Underdog

End Underground?”

40

C
ASTOR WAS UP BEFORE THE MORNING WHISTLE.
E
VEN
without his extra training with Pookie, he hadn't slept much. Enza's words kept replaying in his mind, but he didn't think he would wait for another door to open.
Now
, something in his gut kept insisting. Somehow, some way, they had to escape.

Castor trotted quickly down the tunnel, and burst into the slop room.

“We need to talk,” he announced to the room.

Jazlyn jumped. She'd been jittery lately, and she could hardly have a conversation without bursting into tears.

The other animals barely looked up. Like him, they'd been walking around in a daze since Enza's match. There had been injuries all along, risks from the start, but this had been different. It had shown them the true darkness under those bright stadium lights.

“I saw Enza at the healing room, and Laringo almost killed her.” His ears drooped, remembering her cries. “We've got to get out of here before something else happens.”

“Brilliant idea, Castor,” Moss said dryly. “Right after breakfast, let's all just strut through the checkpoints and right out the front door!”

The bull was red-eyed and touchy. He'd warned them that Laringo was dangerous, but he seemed more affected by Enza's grave injuries than anyone. Just looking at him, Castor could see the tension in his shoulders, the anger simmering just below the surface.

“That's not what I had in mind,” Castor said. “But there must be another way.”

Samken giggled, but Jazlyn nudged him to stop. “He's actually serious,” she said softly. “Aren't you?”

Castor nodded. “We have to escape.” Saying it aloud made him almost dizzy with hope.

The animals shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the door for approaching Whistlers. Submission had been so drilled into them that even the thought of freedom seemed taboo. Actually talking about escape was unthinkable. Moss nickered and turned away, not interested in hearing another word.

But others were curious and leaned closer over the trough.

Now Samken was looking at Castor with the determination he usually reserved for the arena, and his voice was dead serious when he asked, “How?”

Castor had been thinking about this all night. He still didn't have an answer.

“I'm working that out. But we'll think of something. Think of all the incredible routines we've come up with using each of our talents—we just need a plan.” He spoke quickly, pleadingly, desperate to convince them. “If there was a way out, if we stuck together, I know we could make it.”

“I think there's a door that leads out of the Pit,” Jazlyn suggested haltingly. Castor glanced over at the rabbit-panther, thinking that she didn't seem quite herself, but he nodded his encouragement.

“That must be where Slim goes to smoke his paper sticks.”

“The parrot patrols the Pit,” Rainner noted.

“We could try the fourth door in the cells. . . .”

“The fourth door is s-s-sealed,” Deja said with a flick of her forked tongue as she popped up by his side.

Castor tried not to flinch as he looked into her snake eyes. He'd tried hard to avoid Deja since the match, but she always seemed to be sneaking around where he least expected it.

Still, he wasn't deterred.

“The door in Enza's cell wasn't sealed. She gave it a little nudge and it just crumbled. I bet if we work on the others we can get them open.”

“We don't even know where those tunnels lead . . . ,” Jazlyn said anxiously.

Castor hadn't thought Moss was listening, but from down the trough, the zebra-bull answered, in a far-off, wistful voice, “They lead to the Greenplains.”

Castor's jaw dropped, and his eyes grew wide. “The Greenplains are real?”

Since he'd arrived on the island, Castor had usually been exhausted from training, and he dreamt less and less of the mythical forest. It was like the features of Runt's face or the sound of his mother's voice: hazy and lost, part of a life he sometimes doubted had ever existed.

Now his memory of the dreams came back, stronger.
He saw the rows of strong trunks, the treetops reaching toward the sun. The haze of leaves wasn't just green, but many different colors—some closer to yellow or brown, some in shadow that made them seem blue or black.

“We had a view of the Greenplains from the Sky Zoo. You really didn't know about them?” Samken sounded surprised.

Deja didn't, either, but she'd come all the way from the desert. She darted her diamond head forward, keenly listening in.

“Unnaturals used to train there, but the land there is toxic,” Moss explained. “That's why the Whistlers sealed up the doors.”

“They've been cleaning it up for years, though,” Jazlyn jumped in, eager to share her knowledge. “The children in my classroom studied the Greenplains, and the teacher was always talking about them as . . . what did she call it? ‘A model for radioresistance and bio-hardiness in the post–Warming Age!'” She said it in one breath, like she couldn't get the words out fast enough.

Castor didn't understand any of that, but he knew what it meant. “There's a better life out there—right outside the door,” he yipped.

“A life we can't have,” Moss said.

“Animals have escaped before, though,” Samken
reasoned. “I hear the chimps on the second floor chattering about it sometimes at night. There might be a whole bunch of Unnaturals who already made it to the Greenplains.”

“They didn't,” the zebra-bull insisted stubbornly.

“How do you know? They could be hunting squirrels right now. Squirrels and deer and fat birds!” Castor was so excited by the idea that he was barking as fast as Runt.

“I know because I was there!” Moss said sharply. “Because they were my teammates and I watched them try to make a break for it. I saw them run and I saw them caught by the Whistlers, and then I never saw my friends again.”

“Maybe they were released, maybe they—”

“NO!” Moss ground his square teeth together and shook his horns. “I know, because that's why the Whistlers ignored the rules of the Mash-up and let Laringo kill all the Unnaturals from both teams. Everyone.”

“Except you.” Deja slithered across the concrete floor toward Moss. She lifted her diamond-shaped head and swayed in front of the striped bull and eyed him curiously. “You're s-s-still here.”

Moss blinked at her. With his gaunt face and his deeply creased brow, the veteran coach looked old and broken.

“I'm still here,” he repeated. “Because I hadn't tried
to escape. They wanted someone to remember. But the others, Firan, Buzzle, Pookie . . . they weren't so lucky.”

Castor's ears twitched at the unexpected mention of his mentor's name. And suddenly, he was certain that giving the old bull hope was more important than keeping the spider-Chihuahua's secret. “Pookie's not dead.”

Moss narrowed his eyes. “You've seen Pookie?”

“I, uh, I've been training with him sometimes. At night. He can slip through doors.”

Castor felt guilty for revealing Pookie's secret, but the way Moss was looking at him made him feel guilty for having kept it so long, too. The veteran was staring at him in shock, his expressive eyes flashing everything from relief to pain to anger. It was making Castor pretty uncomfortable, so he turned to the others.

“So, what do you guys think?”

Rainner was the first to speak. “Maybe Castor's just afraid of losing. You're next up to fight the Invincible, aren't you? You want us to risk our lives so you don't have to face him.”

“No, I don't want to face him. But we'll all face him soon enough. You really want to be fighting in here for the rest of your life?” Castor demanded, frustrated. “How ever long or short that might be? Don't you want to go home?”

“My home is across the big water and among the long, dry grasses,” Rainner scoffed, his horn jutting forward. “If that's not where you're going, I'd rather take my chances in the Dome.”

Castor knew that Rainner was the one speaking out of fear, but he saw that same anxiety reflected on each of his friends' faces. He watched his dreams of escape fizzling away.

“What about the rest of you?” Castor pleaded. “Jazlyn?”

“I'm with you,” the rabbit-panther said immediately, surprising Castor. “I have to get out of here. I feel like I'm losing my mind in this place, like I can't get my thoughts straight.” She shook her ears as if to clear her head. “Maybe it's from the shot last week. Did it make you feel funny?”

“Shot?” Castor repeated, puzzled.

“You know, the booster shot.” Jazlyn looked around, but none of her friends' faces showed recognition. “We always got weekly shots when I lived in the lab, so I just thought . . .” She trailed off, and the room went silent, each animal imagining new horrors.

“This is why we have to leave!” Castor said. “We have no idea what the Whistlers are capable of.”

“If you want to go, Castor, I'll follow,” Jazlyn said.
There was a quiver in her voice, but her eyes were bright. “I trust you.”

Castor's heart warmed with gratitude. Maybe they still had a shot. He looked at the friendly gray face at the end of the trough. “Samken?” The octo-elephant hesitated for just a moment, and Deja cut in.

“You s-s-shouldn't go alone,” the snake said. “Give us a little time to think this over. Wait and s-s-see.”

Castor had been betrayed by Deja before, but Samken was nodding eagerly, and though he saw the panic on Jazlyn's face at the mention of a delay, he knew it was better if they could all go together.

“Okay,” Castor relented. “We'll wait and see.”