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  I flicked my light around a cave, saw nothing bird-kid-like, and started to back out. I glanced around for the others… and realized I was totally alone.

  And way, way deep inside a cave.

  I'd been caught up in my musings and had not seen the group moving off somewhere else. Backpedaling quickly, I looked right and left, searching the dark water for flashlight beams. I couldn't see anything. I couldn't even see the cave entrance. I must have wandered in there and gone around corners without realizing it.

  Crap.

  I deliberately slowed my breathing and tried to calm down. I got into this cave; I could get out. I had enough air in my tank for about half an hour, I thought. I've been in worse situations. I just needed to settle down and backtrack.

  Of course, backtracking works best when there are footprints to follow, or when the terrain has landmarks and is therefore recognizable. It does not work when the only trail is bubbles, and every single rotten cave wall looks exactly like every other single rotten freaking cave wall, and there are only surprised fish to ask for directions and—oops!—I'm not a freaking telepath!!!

  An underwater scream is so much less satisfying and effective when it is done into a regulator, I discovered.

  Picturing Fang recovering my drowned body, I swam carefully back in the direction I thought I had come from. None of it looked familiar, and none of it didn't look familiar.

  It all looked the same.

  There was no light coming from anywhere, no sign of my fellow divers. I pictured my funeral, saw Nudge choking back sobs as she threw flowers on my coffin. My throat closed, and tears welled up in my eyes, which made my mask fog up.

  I swore loudly into my regulator and cleared my mask the way I'd been taught. When I could see, I again tried to steady my breathing and take stock of where I was.

  That's when I realized that I was looking ahead at two caves, where a branch veered off. Had I traveled down one of the branches, or had I come from somewhere behind me—should I turn around?

  Let me rephrase that question: If my life were a corny horror movie, and the heroine was lost and alone, trapped in an underwater cave, what would happen next?

  If you guessed, "She drops her flashlight, and it hits a rock and breaks, leaving her in utter darkness," you would be right.

  But I bet you didn't guess the part about an attack by a giant octopus.

  62

  JUST SIGN IT." The second-in-command pushed the paper across the table.

  Dr. Valencia Martinez looked at the woman. Her hands were handcuffed behind her back again, and she was so tired. At least her actual hunger pangs had gone away after four days without food. Now she just felt weak and sick and like she wanted to sleep for a very long time. "No."

  The second-in-command sat back. "All you have to do is sign and then appear on camera denouncing your work at the Coalition to Stop the Madness. Then you can eat and drink, and we will return you to your family."

  Just the idea of eating actual food made Dr. Martinez feel sick. "No. I believe in the CSM. We're destroying our planet, and it has to stop."

  The second-in-command was careful not to show her frustration and anger. Instead, she nodded at one of the M-Geeks standing guard. It moved forward smoothly, its wheels making no sound. It reached out an arm, and a long, thin screwdriver-like thing extended from the end. It touched the skin on Dr. Martinez's arm and emitted a shock.

  She jumped but stifled a shriek of pain. The tool left a small red mark on her arm, next to all the other small red marks. I look like I have the measles, she thought with rising hysteria. Think about something else, she told herself. Be somewhere else.

  The small, stuffy room seemed to fade away as Valencia looked past the second-in-command, out through the small, thick window. The water outside was dark: the only light came from the powerful beams of this underwater station. Dr. Martinez wished they would just shoot her out into the water, the way they had the fourth-in-command. It would be heavenly out there, quiet and cold and wet, and as soon as she was out there, it would be over. She wouldn't have to worry anymore. They couldn't hurt her anymore. She could sleep.

  Something enormous and dark moved through one of the beams of light. Valencia blinked, seeing that it wasn't a whale. What on earth was it? It was alive, not a machine, but like nothing Valencia had ever seen or heard of. It was… an abomination, a grotesque mistake.

  And suddenly, everything clicked into place, everything made sense, and she knew why they had kidnapped her, why they were holding her, and why they desperately needed the CSM to stop its protesting.

  "If you don't want to save yourself," said the second-in-command, "you might want to save your eldest daughter."

  Dr. Martinez met her captor's eyes. "What?"

  "We have Maximum Ride in custody," said the second-in-command triumphantly. "Sign this, and we will let her go."

  Laughter croaked out of Dr. Martinez's dry mouth, distracting her from her pain and weakness. "If you've got Max in custody," she said, "then you have my sympathy."

  She started to laugh again, but the M-Geek shocked her much more strongly now, and everything went fuzzy for a minute, before she passed out.

  63

  OKAY, I'm no marine biologist, so the whole octopus/squid distinction is lost on me. All I can tell you is that it was way bigger than me, gushy, slippery, impossible to get hold of, and seemed to have a million tentacley arms that it wrapped so tightly around me I couldn't move.

  I remembered how octopi and squid eat their prey—they pry open clams and use their sucky arms to shove the soft clam meat into their parrotlike beaks. It was trying to pry me open! Then it would stuff soft bird-kid meat into its beak!

  I drew in panicked breaths from the regulator, thrashing around, trying to kick backward, everything I could think of to break free.

  Reminder: One cannot build up a lot of power in water. One cannot jump up and kick something. One cannot use one's weight effectively. One can only thrash around, pushing helplessly against gushy, squishy, stretchy tentacles, trying to pry them off of everything.

  One can also try to reach the eight-inch knife one has strapped to one's thigh. Of course, I couldn't get mine, because that was how this whole day had gone.

  And then it pulled my mask right off my face.

  Cold salty water splashed into my eyes, went up my nose. Meanwhile, the slimy beast pulled the regulator out of my mouth, almost yanking my teeth along with it as I tried to hold on. Now I had no air source.

  I pressed my lips together so I wouldn't swallow the salt water. We mutant freaks have very efficient lungs and air sacs, but we do have to breathe. If I couldn't breathe, I would drown, here in a dark cave, lost and alone.

  Without ever kissing Fang again.

  Tears are kind of redundant in the ocean, but I felt them well up hotly in my eyes.

  64

  EYES SQUEEZED shut, mouth closed tightly, I struggled with all my might, wishing with every fiber of my being that this was a plain-old regular Eraser or Flyboy or M-Geek or clone or any other ridiculous, stupid thing that someone had thought up—

  The arms loosened their hold on me.

  I fought and struggled again, and the arms loosened some more. Then suddenly the arms were gone. I lunged for my regulator hose and saw that the cave was full of light.

  And there were John, Dr. Akana, and Fang. I had opened my eyes just in time to see Fang punching the octopus/squid/cephalopod right in its big googly eyes.

  I reached around and grabbed my regulator—only to find half of a ripped hose, which had blown my entire air supply out in a huge, festive burst of bubbles.

  A couple more punches and the thing turned and fled into the darkness. Fang swam over to me quickly, seeing my air hose, my breath-holding face probably turning purple. John and Dr. Akana came over too, indicating which way led out of the cave.

  Then Fang's eyes crinkled behind his mask: he was smiling.

  Smiling? I had, like, five seconds to g
o before my lungs exploded. Were my last thoughts as a living bird kid going to be, I thought you loved me, Fang, you freaking traitor?!

  Then he took my hand in his and gently ran his fingers along the sides of my neck.

  My eyes widened. I could just barely feel a steady stream of tiny bubbles brushing past my fingers. I did a systems check: Did I feel like I was about to pass out from lack of oxygen? Did my lungs feel like they were about to burst?

  Nah, not really.

  I grinned back at Fang.

  I had developed gills.

  65

  I REMEMBERED how Angel had demonstrated this new talent—she sort of gulped in big mouthfuls of water, and they seemed to flow out her almost-invisible gills. I tried that, tentatively, fearing if I swallowed a bunch of salt water I would immediately gag.

  But there was some new mechanism in place, and though I gulped in water, it immediately shot back out again, not down my windpipe or my esophagus.

  It was so, so cool. Grinning, I unfastened my vest and let it and my tank drop below me into the depths. I felt so much better, lighter, and more maneuverable without it.

  Then I leaned closer to Fang, peering through the water at his neck, smooth and tan under my pruney fingers. I pulled back and smiled at him, nodding. He had the same stream of bubbles seeping out from the sides of his neck.

  He spit out his regulator, as John and Dr. Akana swam toward him in alarm. They tried to stop him from ditching his tank, but he pointed to his neck, and began to take water into his mouth. The scientists' eyes grew huge behind their masks.

  Looking stunned, they motioned toward the mouth of the cave. And who was waiting for us there, blond curls floating dreamily in the water like an impish mermaid?

  Yeah. Angel. And when she saw us without our air tanks, she grinned in an incredibly annoying, see-I-told-you-so way. Little twerp.

  As we moved toward her, I started to get the whole gill pattern of breathing down—take in a big mouthful of water, sort of swallow it, feel it flow out through the gills on the sides of my neck.

  In another minute, it had become smoother and more instinctual, and I rejoiced in how incredibly cool and handy this new skill would be… and then, of course, immediately began to fear that I'd start sprouting other fish traits. Like scales.

  Uh, like, no thank you.

  But swimming with no bulky, heavy tank, no rubber mouthpiece making my jaw ache—I started to see what Angel found so amazing about being under water. I still totally preferred the air environment, with my wings stretched out in the sun. But this wasn't so bad.

  The five of us backtracked, heading to the boat. I started to compose a lengthy lecture for Angel, during which I planned to sit her down and try to drum some sense into her scary little head.

  And then, with no warning, something broadsided me so hard it knocked the breath out of wherever I was holding it these days.

  66

  THE PROJECTILE WAS as big and fast as a freight train and just as powerful. Ramming my side, it tore me far away from the others, making me turn somersaults and startling me so much that I gulped in water and actually swallowed it.

  Without my bulky air tank, I quickly managed to right myself and assumed a fighting stance. I was maybe twenty feet away from everyone else, and they were under attack too.

  But what was attacking us? The thing that had hit me had turned back toward the others with startling speed. I immediately shot after it, keeping my wings tight against my back, reminding myself to breathe.

  The creatures were bizarrely agile and fast, whipping through the water like snakes or eels. And they came in sizes, ranging from Volkswagen bug to Boeing 747. I suspected they were what had attacked the fishing boats and the navy sub, but even this close, I couldn't identify what they were.

  I jumped onto one's back, trying to hold on as I pummeled it as hard as I could. Its skin was bumpy and rough—and this close much of it looked melted and raw, with enormous, festering wounds that turned my stomach. I tried to find eyes to punch or poke, tried to see some vulnerable underside, but it was just—all muddled up. There was no pattern or symmetry.

  The thing bucked and threw me off, and I swirled fast and shot over to where Fang was entangled with one that had flippers. I leaned back and kicked it as hard as I could, and this time I saw a small red eye on one side. Just the one eye.

  A quick glance revealed that John and Dr. Akana were already panicked and nearing exhaustion, thrashing around in the water, unsuccessfully trying to fend off blows. We'd been steadily climbing to the surface and now could see pretty clearly, but there was no sign of the boat above us. I had no idea where the heck we were or how I could summon help.

  Even Angel seemed to be under attack, and I wondered if these creatures were completely beyond any kind of communication.

  Max. Get out of there now! the Voice suddenly commanded. Get the others, and get out of there now!

  I grabbed Angel's shoulder and shoved her up toward the surface, meanwhile kicking the sea monster that surged after her.

  I gave a two-handed karate chop across the snout of another creature, freeing John, then pushed him up until he caught on. Fang had finally kicked himself free of his beast, though it was circling to come after him again. Together he and I punched and chopped and kicked the one that had almost knocked Dr. Akana unconscious.

  I heard a thin, sharp whistling sound and looked around to see a slim, dark, long thing coming right at us. Not an animal but even more deadly: a torpedo. The navy had arrived.

  "Up!" I yelled at Fang, bubbles leaving my mouth. "Now!!"

  We spun away from the sea monsters, grabbed Dr. Akana, and kicked as hard as we could toward the surface. Some of them started to come after us, and Fang grabbed my other hand, using his strength to pull me up with him. We put about thirty feet between us and the creatures, feeling our ears pop painfully as the water pressure lessened.

  We almost managed to get out of range but not quite. Below us, the torpedo hit the pod of creatures, creating a tremendous explosion that blasted me and Fang right out of the water and about twenty feet into the air. I cried out, holding my ears, then realized I was airborne. I quickly extended my wings and shook the water off.

  Fang did the same, and we kept ourselves aloft high above the ocean, watching as big chunks of monster bobbed to the surface. The sub that had launched the torpedo was too far away to see.

  I could barely hear anything and felt like someone had hammered an ice pick through my eardrums. It hurt so much that tears came to my eyes—even swallowing hurt.

  Less than a quarter mile away, the boat was cranking its engines. Fang and I flew over to it and landed on the deck. We were both covered with scrapes and bruises, I'd swallowed a bunch of water, and my head was spinning from the pain in my ears. All in all, I felt like crap, though maybe not as bad as Dr. Akana, who had been fished out of the water and was now strapped to a body board.

  Panting, I leaned against the side of the boat and looked at Fang.

  "So the navy stepped up after all," I said, my voice sounding muffled and far away to me. "Humans actually saved us. In a messy, stupid way, but still."

  This was a new concept, and it took us a moment to digest it. But we had a much more important question: what the heck were those things, and where had they come from?

  67

  WELCOME BACK," said Captain Perry. He was—I swear—trying not to smirk at me.

  I snarled as I went past him, took a deep breath, and started down the submarine's ladder.

  Yes. Back on a submarine. A much smaller sub but again one of the navy's and again commanded by Captain Joshua Perry.

  Turned out only one of my eardrums was busted. It would heal pretty quickly, but in the meantime I was staggering around like a deaf, drunk monkey.

  Dr. Akana had a broken arm and collarbone, and bruises covered almost half her body. She'd been airlifted back to the marine research station. John Abate was also beat up and bruised but was still wi
th us, determined to see this thing through to the end, determined to save my mom. I was starting to wonder if maybe he had feelings for her, I mean, more than just a friend and co-worker.

  There was a lot of that going around.

  We'd spent the night at the marine research station, going over everything we had learned so far, which could be summed up in like two sentences: (1) these things were ginormously gol dang big, and (2) we had no idea what the heck they were.

  I'd managed to get most of my lecture in with Angel, but my words slid right off her like rain off a road slick. I was going to ask Fang to try talking to her.

  Gazzy, Iggy, and Nudge had all tried to see if they had gills, out in the warm, clear water of the bay. That's another body of water you'll never catch me swimming in again. Turns out none of them were turning fishy yet.

  Total had elected to stay at the research station with Akila. He hated subs—no one's blaming him there—and hated water and had no gills and needed some catch-up time with his lady friend, as he put it. He was still wrestling with the whole marriage question.

  The submarine crew was no doubt used to top-secret missions where they just did as ordered without asking questions—another thing the military seemed big on—but, all the same, when they saw that their new passengers were six kids and two scientists, their eyes got a little bigger.

  Now, hours later, we all huddled over a lit map-table in a small room in the midsection of the sub. This sub was so small that it held only about thirty people and actually had a few thick windows. It was still armed with torpedoes, though, which made me feel better.

  "The monster attacks occurred here, here, and here," said Captain Perry, showing us red dots on the maps. "All within a twenty-mile radius. Today we're going to cruise this area, crisscrossing it until we see something."