The Battle Begins (22 page)

48

T
HE WORLD HAD SEEMED HAZY AND STILL WHILE
C
ASTOR
held Pookie, but suddenly, everything clicked into sharp focus.

The lights, the people, the arena.

The girl running across the open field.

The boy, Marcus, running after her.

The crowd chanting, “Mash-up! Mash-up!” when the five doors slid open and the rest of Team Klaw and Team Scratch poured in.

But like Castor, with Laringo down for the count, they'd given up on the match. They didn't hear horns or see scores or wins or losses. They all saw the Hurt Door the human children had flung wide-open, and the whisper of green visible beyond it.

Go,
Pookie had said.
GO!

Castor forgot about his broken bones and foggy brain—he was on his feet in an instant.

“Come on!” His urgent bark roused the others—everyone but Rainner, who held back, and Deja, who had disappeared, and together they galloped toward the red door with its sliver of light.

Alarm bells were sounding as he ran, and that awful parrot was screeching for backup, but Castor could already smell the air outside, and everything pleasurable in his brain seemed to fire at once. Outside. The pollution and grease and sweat and meat and metal and dirt that blended in his memories of Lion's Head was right there in front of him, tickling his nose. And under that, he caught a whiff of musky freshness that made him think:
green
.

As Castor shouldered the door open for his new pack, he almost collapsed with the realization that he was really going to do it. He was going to reach the Greenplains, and soon.

Nothing could stop him now.

But then, the screams did. They were panicked screams, in-grave-danger screams, blood-frozen-inside-your-veins screams. And they were coming from Marcus—the blond boy who'd comforted him when he was hurt, the boy who had opened the door.

It took all the willpower Castor had to turn back toward that Dome, but when he pushed through the red door and saw the mutant tiger on his feet, with his deadly stinger stabbing toward Leesa, and Marcus sprinting after her, Castor's hackles rose, and protective instinct took over. As much as he wanted his freedom, he would not let Laringo kill Pookie's human, or the boy who was starting to feel like his friend. As far as he was concerned, they were both part of his pack.

Castor turned abruptly and started tearing across the field.

He was surprised to see the rest of his teammates turn as well. “You should go!” he insisted, but his friends would not leave him. They flanked him, forming a wide protective barrier, and ran as one to finally put a stop to the vicious Laringo.

49

L
EESA WAS HUNCHED OVER HER PET'S TINY, BROKEN
form, and she didn't appear to see the danger around her, no matter how loudly Marcus screamed. The Invincible seemed to have risen from the dead, and he was gathering strength to attack. Meanwhile, the Underdog was speeding toward Marcus, talons raised.

Perhaps they were both about to die?

Marcus ducked in terror, but instead of skewering him like Marcus feared, the eagle-dog hooked his talons
in Marcus's collar and lifted him off the ground. Then the Underdog shot back across the Dome, dove down sharply, and snatched up Leesa just as the scorpion-tiger swiped.

“AHHHH!” they both screamed as the dog veered upward again.

Marcus's stomach lurched as the ground receded, his legs kicked at the air for purchase, his hair whipped around his face, and his heart was racing so fast he thought it might explode and kill him. That is, if he didn't fall to his death first.

But after a couple of seconds of dangling in the eagle-dog's sure grip, Marcus stopped worrying so much about dying and started freaking out about the fact that he was
flying
. Yeah, it was the most terrifying thing he'd ever experienced, but it was also thrilling and amazing. He could see everything from up here—the entire bowl of the stadium, the stands full of people going nuts, a holographic picture of the Unnaturals banner and the light post just beyond it, where Leesa and Antonio watched the games. And he could see the mutants fighting on the field.

They were all charging against the Invincible.

The Enforcer gripped the base of the scorpion tail in a powerful, tentacled fist. The Invincible might've found the strength to sting, if the bull wasn't butting his head with crushing force. In front of him, the rabbit-panther
was feinting left and right with amazing speed, keeping the champion distracted.

Then, suddenly, all of the mutant animals—including the one that held them in his clutches a hundred feet in the air—started convulsing. Their collars were shocking them! The Underdog lurched left and then right, and Marcus saw the lights blur and the walls whirl. Marcus thought they might smash into the ground, but then the eagle-dog's flying leveled.

Glancing down, Marcus could see Pete waving and holding something—the Swift's collar! He'd cut the shock electricity to the collars. Joni was down there with him, and she was quickly pulling off the other mutants' collars.

Marcus reached up behind him, his fingers searching the fur around the eagle-dog's head. He found the collar and unbuckled it, and the Underdog immediately barked his gratitude. Then he bent forward and licked the side of Marcus's face in a slobbery, wet kiss.

“Finally free,” he heard Leesa's voice say over the wind. He looked to where she was dangling beside him, and saw her holding a small collar in her fist as well. Tears leaked down her face, but Marcus was relieved to see that his friend was smiling. “I hope wherever Pookie is, he's feeling this free.”

50

N
OW THAT HE'D SAVED THE KIDS,
C
ASTOR KNEW IT WAS
time to join his friends.

He didn't want to leave the children in the stands because without the matchmaker to maintain order, it was absolute chaos, with panicked people pushing and shoving, desperate to get away from the freed mutants. He knew Marcus and Leesa would be safe with Pete, though, so when he spotted the medic waving from the side of the arena far away from the showdown with
Laringo, Castor swooped down low and unclenched his talons, dropping them lightly at his feet. Then he circled back around the Dome, zooming toward his pack.

“What's going on?” Castor asked. Laringo had escaped the group attack when the shocks went off. Now, he was prowling in front of Castor's friends, and the animals seemed oddly hypnotized.

“I can't stop.” Laringo's voice was soft as he addressed the survivors—almost a purr. “I told you, just like I told Pookie. But you wouldn't listen.” He started to circle, and Castor could sense Jazlyn trembling beside him.

He didn't blame her. For a mutant who was so strictly trained, the Invincible felt like the electric collar at your throat—you were never sure when it was going to go off or how devastating it would be. Castor realized that Laringo's collar didn't work any more than his did now.

“You're as free as any of us,” Castor tried to reason one last time, keeping his eyes locked on Laringo's. He gestured his head toward the door. “So you
can
stop if you want to.”

Castor heard the angry rush of air from Moss's nostrils. It was clear the bull didn't like the idea of Laringo leaving with them very much at all.

Neither did Laringo.

“Us?” The big white cat started to stalk back and
forth in front of them, his scorpion's stinger hanging idly at the air. “There is no us. There is only Master.”

Couldn't he understand that there didn't have to be a master, either?

“You've killed enough,” Moss said, grinding his square teeth as he listed their names. “Firan . . . Buzzle . . . Pookie . . .” Beside Castor, the bull began to weep.

His eyes dilated, the pale blue turned to black, and Laringo's translucent tail started to curl forward over his back. “No,” Laringo insisted. He cocked his head, as if listening to someone whispering. “Master's displeased,” he said, and any emotional connection the tiger had once had seemed to have completely vanished from his soul. “I've still got to kill all of you.”

As outnumbered as Laringo was, his detached words could still strike terror in the other animals' hearts, and Castor's teammates tensed, nervous about who that scorpion's tail might lunge at next.

Enza didn't give him half a chance. The injured grizzly lived up to her namesake and told Laringo in a truly fearless growl, “You're not going to get the chance to kill anyone, you sorry excuse for a feline. Not ever again.”

But instead of lunging at her nemesis, Enza turned sharply to the right and slammed her broken, bruised, but still powerful body into the light post. All of the pole
battering she'd done during training in the Pit must've paid off, because the hit was so hard the clang of cracking metal shuddered around the stadium.

“Do it,” Laringo challenged.

Now it was Samken's turn. The Enforcer thundered forward and smashed his broad, hard head into the pole.

This time, the post swayed dangerously, but then it came to a stop.

“I'm protected, you see? Invincible.”

The words sounded desperate and Castor was bewildered, remembering how Laringo had begged him to end his life.

“No one's invincible,” Moss said. “Not even you.” The zebra-bull gave the post a swift hind kick, and finally, the blow was just enough to wrench the light pole from its foundation.

“No!” a woman's voice thundered through the loudspeaker as the light post began to tip. “My champion!”

Castor and his friends were scrambling out of the way, but Laringo wasn't even looking at the falling pole. The scorpion-tiger stared up at the box seats, and Castor recognized the woman he'd seen at every match—the woman with hair the color of blood, standing out like a lion's mane around her head.

It was her voice that was calling to Laringo. And now
it was Laringo who was hypnotized.

“Master,” the scorpion-tiger purred serenely, and then Castor shut his eyes against the awful crunch of metal as the light pole fell.

Castor felt vibrations from the impact traveling up through his feet, but when he opened his eyes, he saw it had just missed him.

Laringo hadn't been so lucky. The post lay right where he'd been standing, and all that was left of the big cat was the tip of his spiked tail, peeking out from underneath the metal. Castor swore he saw a twitch, but he wasn't going to stick around to find out.

Fans were screaming and stampeding toward the exit, and Horace was now at the Hurt Door with two dark-haired, scowling teen boys. For a second, Castor was too overwhelmed to move.

Had he lost his chance?

But then he noticed the massive crater of a hole in the floor where the post had snapped off its foundation.

An exit.

He locked eyes with Enza. “The next time you see an open door . . . ,” he said, and his friend nodded warily.

“In there,” Castor instructed his teammates. “Quick!”

The darkness made Samken nervous. “But we have no idea what's down there,” he protested, his front tiptoes
teetering on the edge as he peered down into the darkness. “It could lead anywhere.”

“I guess we'll find out together, Sammy,” Jazlyn said. “No time like the present.” She bounded forward and pushed the big gray rump, and together they tumbled into the abyss.

“Get them!” the red-haired woman snarled over the speakers.

“Get, get, get!” Perry echoed, circling around again and buzzing near their heads like an annoying fly. “Alert, alert, alert!”

Castor saw Whistlers like Slim and blue-coated Bruce making their way through the tide of people. On the other side, he knew Horace and his two muscled boys would reach them soon. It was time to go.

“Your turn,” Castor told Enza, but the grizzly's clunky cast got stuck on the way down. “Hurry,” Castor barked.

Finally, she managed to squeeze through, and Castor turned to wave Moss after her. But the veteran wasn't behind him. He saw him across the stadium, letting the kids climb onto his back.

“What are you doing?” Castor yipped as the bull galloped by. “You have to come with us!”

But Moss was adamant. “For so long I did nothing.” He said with a shake of his horns. “Now I need to do this.
I need to protect them. For Pookie.”

Castor couldn't argue with honor. He reached up his snout to lick the children's hands, but there wasn't much time for good-byes—in the next instant, an army of handlers and blue-coated Whistlers arrived.

“GO!” Moss told Castor as he reared up on his hind legs to protect the kids on his back. Then he looked at the enemies around him, lowered his head, and before a single person could reach for a gold whistle, he charged.

Now that's brave,
Castor thought. As the panicked Whistlers scattered and the stands emptied out, he nodded a thanks to his valiant friend. Then Castor, the Unnatural bird-dog, turned, barked, and jumped toward his freedom.