“A full-service operation.”
“So who are you?”
“Name’s Dave. From here on out, keep one eye peeled at all times. Expect the worst, hope for the best. Once they’ve got you in their sights, they never let up.”
“Are you referring to the men in the caps, or those ‘things’ that tried to eat me earlier?”
Dave kept completely still as he talked. “Both.”
“Can you at least tell me what those things were?”
“A species of three-legged lasher. I’d say either gulvorgs or burbelangs.”
“Those New Zealand animals?” Will asked sarcastically.
“Don’t carry on like a bloody pork chop, kid. I’m saying that’s what they looked like. An opinion supported by the fact that I could actually see ’em.” Dave tapped his dark glasses.
“And why would whatever they are be chasing me?”
“We obviously shouldn’t open that particular can of worms at the moment—”
“Obviously in what way?”
“Obviously for reasons upon which it would currently be unwise for me to elaborate. Let me ask you this: Did you smell sulfur or smoke before they attacked? Did you see a round window in midair or a ring of fire—”
“A ring of fire. In the hills. I thought it was the sunset.”
“No, mate. That was a High-Altitude Drop. Some of their heaviest nasties from the Never-Was. Dropped in from a great height like daisy cutters. Serious spagbog.”
Will paused. “Do you speak a different language in New Zealand?”
“They have ships—airships. Not like ours. You can’t see ’em, or only rarely—” Dave caught himself and sighed. “More than you need to know. The truth is, I just drew the mission this morning. Last minute, no proper briefing. Haven’t even had time to review your file.”
“My file?”
Dave took from his jacket pocket a small transparent glass cube. Inside floated a pair of gleaming black cubes. They looked like dice without dots, suspended in air, revolving at different angles and speeds from one another.
“That’s my file?” asked Will.
Lights beamed from the black cubes, and three-dimensional images appeared above the large cube: two groups of hideous, slathering trilegged beasts.
“Those are burbelangs,” said Dave, pointing at one group. “And those are gulvorgs.”
“Good God.”
“From here on out, Will, you’d better believe I’ve got your best interests at heart, or the mission could go south faster than a bucket of prawns in the sun—”
“If you think you’re helping me by not telling me the truth, then you’ve got a lot to learn about me.”
Dave stared at him hard for a moment. “Agreed.”
“Can I see that?” asked Will, pointing at the cube.
“Not in this lifetime,” said Dave.
The images vanished. Dave stuck the cube back into his pocket, leaned forward between the seats, and gave Will a longer, appraising look.
“Given the resources they’ve committed,” said Dave, “we have to assume that you’re their target. That’s why I led them away. Took hours to shake ’em.”
“So what kind of mission are you on?”
“Escort and protect. Just be grateful they didn’t tag you with a Ride Along. Don’t get me started on those beauties.”
“What’s a Ride Along?”
“That’s what they turned your mum with, kid.”
Will felt his stomach turn over. “What does that mean? Is she all right?”
“No way of knowing right now,” said Dave with surprising gentleness. “I could delve deeper, into a great many things, but the last thing you need now is a lot of Level Twelve intel that could make your head explode.”
“Then just tell me this … is my dad okay?”
“I’ll try to find out. I need more information, and you need rest. Get some grub in your belly. Catch a few winks. If things turn ‘eventful,’ the only gear you’ll need’s in that pouch in front of you. Next to the in-flight magazine. Keep an eye out.”
Will fished around in the seat-back pocket and retrieved a small, rectangular gray pouch. Inside he found a pair of medium-sized sunglasses with plain black retro frames. The lenses had a grayish blue tint like the ones Dave wore.
“How do these work?” asked Will, leaning back. “Is it like three-D?”
The seat behind him was empty again.
Will turned the iPod back up and heard only music: No Dave. He examined the glasses, then put them on. Everything looked exactly the same, only dimmer.
“It is totally possible that I’ve completely lost my mind,” he muttered.
But he followed Dave’s advice. He put the glasses away and ate both sandwiches, which were about as moist and flavorful as a drawing of a sandwich. When attendants rolled the beverage cart by, he took two bottles of water and drained them. He pulled the unfinished paperwork for the Center from his bag and filled it out. Then he carefully forged his parents’ signatures on the appropriate lines.
Will closed his eyes and saw fractured images of his dad’s ruined hotel room. Dad’s last words kept circling back:
“We’re responsible for this. And the idea that something we did would bring pain or sorrow into your life is the worst feeling your mom and I have ever known.”
Responsible for what? What had they done? What kind of terrible price had they now paid for it?
About forty-five minutes into the flight—as they passed over the garish glow of Las Vegas—he managed to drift into a shallow, fitful sleep.
OceanofPDF.com
I spent the whole day dreading going to sleep again … or maybe because I couldn’t wait. Then it felt like I tossed and turned for hours before I could let go. But once I finally dropped off, I was ready.
I found myself high in the night air, soaring through storm clouds, lit up by bolts of lightning cracking in the distance. I had no more of an idea where I was, but this time I seemed to know exactly where to find him.
I saw something small and dark sailing far ahead of me against the clouds.
An airplane.
OceanofPDF.com
SABOTAGE
A jolt of turbulence woke him. Will felt a presence to his left and turned, expecting to find Dave. Instead he found the obese woman in purple standing in the aisle, motionless, staring at him. Her face was in shadow; her eyes were pinpricks of dark, gleaming light.
“Can I help you?” Will blurted.
The woman blinked, inert, as blank as a stone. The smell coming off her, as if she hadn’t showered in weeks, made Will’s eyes water. Another jolt rocked the plane, harder this time, and they rode it as if cresting a wave. The woman’s lips chewed around but no words came out. She turned and shuffled down the aisle with a peculiar waddling gait.
Will glanced around. There was no sign of Dave. Acting on instinct, he fished the sunglasses from his pocket, slipped them on, and leaned into the aisle.
Will saw a glowing nimbus of light around the fat woman, sickly and green, like flickering fluorescence. The outline of her body wiggled and squirmed like a bagful of angry cats, bulging out at nauseating angles.
Will lifted the glasses. The woman looked normal again. Or as close as five four and three hundred pounds stuffed into purple velour five sizes too small could get to normal. She walked past her seat to the lavatory, opened the door, and squeezed her bulk inside. Her hand shot out and yanked the door shut.
“Dave?” whispered Will. “Dave!”
No answer. Will grabbed the arms of his seat as lightning flashed in the distance, flaring a jagged skyline of ominous clouds. He looked at his watch: They were less than an hour from their scheduled arrival in Denver, flying over the Rockies now, closer to the storm.