The Battle Begins (20 page)

43

W
HEN
L
EESA CLIMBED UP OUT OF THE
D
RAIN AND STEPPED
onto the beach, she could see feet dangling off the bridge over the water, and she knew Antonio was already there. That was good—she'd have a chance to prep him before Marcus arrived.

She and Marcus had worked out every detail of the plan in advance: Marcus would get his brother's keys, but to avoid the eye scan checkpoints, Antonio could help them get in the back way through the training center. It
should be empty at night, but Antonio could use Vince's name for credit if necessary. Then they'd unlock all the cages, herd the animals onto transport trucks, and drive them over the bridge to the Greenplains.

But no matter how airtight Leesa thought her plan was, she knew it was going to be hard to sell it to Antonio. He was so skeptical of everything these days, and if it involved keeping secrets from Vince or using his name, forget it. They'd waited until the day of the planned jailbreak to tell him so that if he agreed, he wouldn't have time to back out.

The Invincible's next match was tomorrow, so it had to be tonight. Before the scorpion-tiger had a chance to kill somebody else.

Leesa heard a buzz in her pocket and knew that was probably the sky kid, but she needed to talk to Antonio first. She took a deep breath as she made her way out to the middle of the bridge to join him.

“Hey,” Leesa greeted him.

“Hi,” Antonio said. When he looked back at her, his face looked sort of flushed, but she guessed that was from the sun—she could already feel herself burning in the midday heat.

Leesa stepped gingerly past the safety rail, and she was blown away by what she saw. From up here, the light
looked like it was dancing on the river. She felt like she was floating.

“Wow. This is so cool.” Leesa gasped.

Antonio smirked. “Didn't I tell you?”

The lush forest of the Greenplains was on her left, the towering metropolis on her right. “Even Lion's Head looks kind of pretty from here,” she said.

“Everything looks pretty from here,” Antonio agreed, staring up at her. “Even your chunk of blue hair.” To Leesa, that sounded like an insult, and she tucked the blue strands back into her dark braid. But Antonio was smiling at her shyly.

“Antonio . . .” Leesa sat down on the ledge near him and cleared her throat. “I'm really glad you came. I need to talk to you about some things.”

“You don't even have to say it,” he said. “I know why you've been acting so weird with me lately.”

Leesa blinked at him, caught off guard. She was acting weird?

“I figured it was probably nerves and that you were maybe a little insecure about it—which you don't have to be at all because I know you better than anyone.” He scooted over on the ledge, closing the gap between them. “And I have to admit that I was close to giving up, but when I got your text I just knew that you finally got it,
that you were ready.”

Leesa had a funny feeling in her stomach, but she wasn't sure if it was from looking down at the water, or the hot sun, or knowing the mutant compound was so very close, or if it was Antonio who'd put it there.

“I want you to know that I'm ready, too.”

“Ready . . . to help the Unnaturals?” Leesa asked, doubtful.

He actually laughed. “Ready to be together!”

Leesa's tablet buzzed again, and she started to reach toward her pocket, but Antonio darted his hand out and took hers, awkwardly threading their fingers. Leesa felt the clammy sweat from his palm. Then he started to lean toward her, smelling sickly sweet from the cologne he'd borrowed from Vince and splashed all over himself, and Leesa realized that feeling in her tummy was closer to dread than butterflies.

She slipped her hand out from under Antonio's and coughed.

“What's wrong?” Antonio asked. His dark eyebrows knit together with concern.

“Uh . . .” She coughed again. The polluted air was starting to get to her, making her talk all scratchy, but the words themselves felt like they were stuck in her throat. “Antonio, I—”

“What?” he asked impatiently.

I don't think of you like that. I want things to stay how they are.

But before she could say anything, the hollow sound of footsteps echoed up the bridge, and she and Antonio both turned toward the shore to see Marcus, dressed in a hoodie and long pants despite the high temperature, running at them full speed.

“What's sky boy doing here?” Antonio demanded.

“That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about. . . .”

“You invited that clown to our spot?” The confusion on Antonio's face quickly morphed into hurt, then anger. “Seriously, Lees? Look at him—he's wearing a gas mask!”

Leesa started to explain, but as Marcus got closer, she saw the alarm on his face.

“What's wrong?” she asked, standing up so abruptly that she almost pitched off the bridge.

“Didn't you . . . get my texts . . . ?” Marcus's mask fogged up as he tried to catch his breath.

Leesa shook her head, but she was already whipping the tablet out of her pocket.

Emergency! Call ASAP!

Underdog/Invincible match moved up.

She looked up at Marcus, her voice small. “When?” she asked.

He must've had one of those expensive, newsfeed chips scanner upgrades in his tablet.

“Four o'clock,” he answered, and Leesa's heart fell.

They had only twenty minutes.

44

M
ARCUS KNEW HE WAS IN BIG TROUBLE.
H
E WAS ALREADY
grounded and to get to the bridge, he'd had to sneak out without his mom noticing and come into contact with pretty much everything he'd been taught to fear: midday sun exposure, proximity to both the toxic river and the Greenplains radiation that had killed his father, open air at ground level. . . .

He'd swiped one of Bruce's gas masks and used the money he'd been saving for a new skateboard deck to
buy extra oxygen, and he'd been careful to check that none of his skin was showing. But Marcus still felt pretty anxious when he stepped out of a cable ride he'd hitched with strangers and crawled under a barbed fence on Reformer's Island. It was as he was picking his way across the slippery, moss-covered rocks, the base of the bridge finally in sight, that he'd gotten the update via simulink.

“Why would they change the date of the match?” Leesa was distraught. “There's no way they'd get a packed stadium on such short notice, and this was supposed to be the biggest match of the season. It doesn't make any sense.”

“None of this makes any sense.” Antonio was in a thin, white tank top, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

Marcus shrugged. He'd learned from his dad's death that the worst things rarely made much sense, but you
still had to find a way to deal with them. Antonio seemed like the kind of dude who might lash out when he was confused, though, so Marcus kept that bit of advice to himself.

“We had a plan to free all of the animals at NuFormz,” Leesa explained to her friend. Antonio's eyebrows knit together and he looked like he was about to yell, but Leesa quickly added, “But it's ruined now that they moved up the eagle-dog's match.”

Antonio's face relaxed, which really ticked Marcus off. This guy didn't even want to help the animals. He was relieved to be able to walk away from them. Now Marcus was more determined than ever.

“We can still do it,” he insisted. He fished into a pocket in his pants for the jangling mess of metal, and thrust his hand toward Leesa. “I already took Pete's keys. There's a private exit door right on the side that I know my brother uses to get animals out quickly after rough matches. We won't be able to free all of the animals we wanted to, but if we get to the arena now we might still be able to save the Underdog.”

Leesa's face crinkled with uncertainty. “You want to break the law in broad daylight, with thousands of people watching?”

They'd be a whole lot more likely to get caught, but as far as Marcus was concerned, a crime was a crime, no matter what time of day it was. And, more important, they had no other option.

“Yes.”

“Let's do it!” Leesa was so excited she embraced him in an impulsive hug.

After adjusting his sling, Marcus hugged her back with his good arm. He could feel her hair tickling the skin at the collar of his hoodie, and when he shifted the mask the tiniest bit to let some air in, he caught a whiff of her peach shampoo. That meant that she could definitely smell the sweaty, sunscreeny, skateboard-greasy stink Marcus had going on. He pulled back, suddenly embarrassed.

He was glad he did—Antonio was looking at him like he was about to skin him alive.

“Leesa,” the bigger kid said through gritted teeth. “What. Is. Going. On?”

Leesa gave him an abbreviated version of the plan—most of it was scrapped now that they weren't going to the cell block, anyway. And they were already running out of time.

“I'll explain more later,” she said hurriedly. “Right
now, I just need you to borrow a truck and meet us at the—what's it called, Marcus?”

“The Hurt Door. It's the big red one.”

The look Antonio shot him seethed with annoyance, but he didn't address Marcus.

“Leesa, that's insane. First off, who's going to give me their truck? I'm thirteen.”

“Someone who owes your brother a favor. You're always bragging that his goons let you drive stolen cars. Tell them you're learning the family business.”

Antonio's jaw tightened, but Marcus could tell he was starting to feel the pressure.

“Vince isn't going to like it,” he muttered.

“So don't tell him!” Leesa said impatiently. “Antonio, you're my best friend.” When she said that, something twitched at the side of the older kid's mouth. Marcus had the strange feeling that he was about to cry. If Leesa noticed, she didn't say anything. “Please . . .”

“Fine,” Antonio said in a clipped tone. “I'll do my best.”

“You're amazing!” Leesa cheered, and started to hug him, too, but Antonio shouldered past her. His lips were pursed and his face was sullen and he didn't make eye contact with either of them when he stalked off down the bridge.

Leesa looked a little upset but she didn't let that get in the way of her purpose. “Come on,” she said to Marcus, her eyes shining with hope. “Let's go do something!”

Then she started to run, and Marcus ripped off his mask, sucked in air, and sprinted after her toward the Unnaturals Dome.

45

C
ASTOR WASN'T READY WHEN THE FIGHT DOOR OPENED.
He thought he'd have more time. More time to prepare. More time to live.

He couldn't hope for the bell to rescue him from an early end as it had rescued Enza, so Castor steeled himself to fight bravely and honor the other Unnaturals who he hadn't been able to help escape. As he entered the arena, the eagle-dog spead his wings wide and carried his head high.

Then, the door on the other side of the Dome swung open and Laringo padded quietly, menacingly forward.

Castor realized that for all the time he'd spent staring at Laringo's poster, with the exception of a couple glimpses, he'd never truly seen Laringo face-to-face.

Castor needed time to study Laringo's movements, so he took to the air from the start. His flying was stronger now, and he'd learned to do enough tricks to impress the crowd when he wasn't fighting. He soared up, feeling the anticipation in the Dome building as he climbed higher and into the rafters. When he was nearly brushing against the ceiling, he shot down in a nosedive, his ears whipping back as he gained speed.

When Laringo reared up on his hind legs to slash at Castor with his razor claws, Castor shot underneath him, bucking up against his stomach. The white tiger was thrown into the air and flipped onto his back, and when the crowd erupted in impressed shouts at the Invincible's expense, Castor hoped that Pookie had been right.

Those cheers were his ticket out of here.

Castor flapped his powerful wings again, doing a tour for his fans. But he was already coasting in order to catch his breath, and Castor could feel the strain in his muscles. In the wind, his fur felt damp with sweat, and his tongue wagged as he gulped the air. He fluttered
down on the opposite side of the ring, but Laringo had already turned to home in on him, and Castor knew his strength training had not been enough.

Castor could dip and dive and fly and soar, but all of that took energy, and Laringo was called the Invincible precisely because he was indefatigable.

The white tiger snarled and took off toward him. Castor stayed on all fours, planning to spring, Pookie style, at the last second, but Laringo adjusted for it this time, and the stinger arced over the smooth white head a beat early, stabbing downward right as Castor was jumping up.

Castor lurched clumsily to the side, rolling out of the way just in time. Laringo's tail smashed into the ground instead. He roared and whirled around, and Castor was on the defensive, his talons raking the sand as he scrabbled backward, and Laringo lunged after him with relentless jabs.

Castor knew Laringo was bred to fight like a machine to the very end, even if it meant running himself into the ground. How could he stop him? If he didn't do something drastic, at some point, he was going to get stung.

To win in the crowd's eyes, Castor needed something grand. He needed to
give them a show!

The next time Laringo's stinger darted over his head,
Castor jumped forward to meet it. He clasped the segmented tail in his talons, wrenched hard to the right to spin the mutant tiger off his feet.

Castor had become an expert flier, but he wasn't used to lifting more than himself. The weight was almost more than he could bear. Still, he flapped his gray feathers hard, and slowly, he and Laringo rose together. The crowd was cheering like crazy, and Castor fluttered in the center of the ring, basking in the applause.

“Do it,” Laringo sneered when they were near the golden Dome. He was still hanging upside down.

“Do what?” Castor asked.

“Do it. Drop me. Kill me.” Laringo's velvet voice was shaky with emotion for once, and the awful request rattled Castor.

“No.” Castor didn't want to kill anyone. Even Laringo. “It's over.”

“It's far from over. It's never over. To live here, you must keep killing. If I can't kill you, they'll find another animal who will. The only way for you to live today is to kill me.” Laringo's tone had changed to a purring threat. Castor recognized it from when he'd promised Enza she wouldn't win against him, and everyone knew how that had turned out. Castor faltered a little.

“This isn't your fault,” Castor told his captive. “Before
the scientists, before the serum, you were different. You can stop.”

“Drop me, mutt,” was Laringo's only reply.

Castor turned toward the virtual announcer, waiting for her to call the match, but to his alarm, she wasn't there. There was no one to call the match.

Or end it.

With stubborn resolve, he gritted his teeth and hung in the air for a few more minutes. But the muscles in his wings were quivering, and Laringo's tail was starting to slip from his talons. Finally, he dropped down to the ground and released Laringo, swooping away from the white tiger before he could take a swipe at him. But he didn't have anywhere to go and his energy was waning, and a tiny whisper of a thought snuck up on Castor as he scrambled away:
He was probably going to die
.