Seven Wonders 3-Book Collection

  Brother Stavros scooped his gun off the ground, where it had fallen.

  Anything and anyone you touch becomes invisible.

  I grabbed Aly’s uniform. With a grin, she turned toward Stavros. “Face, meet foot.”

  He looked around, baffled at the voice coming from nowhere, and he never saw the swift kick Aly planted on his jaw. As he fell unconscious, Aly hooked her hand into Torquin’s belt. “Your turn.”

  “Time for Whac-a-Massa,” he said.

  Together we moved toward Brother Dimitrios, angling from the side. He stood, trembling, staring in the direction we’d just been. “This is the biggest mistake you can possibly make. Trust me. Also, striking a man while invisible is ungentlemanly conduct.”

  “A little to the left,” Torquin replied.

  As Brother Dimitrios flinched, the red-bearded giant delivered a haymaker to his jaw. Dimitrios’s feet left the ground. He flew back into Brother Yiorgos, and both men hurtled backward, smacking into a tree.

  The three men lay there, inert. Torquin flexed and unflexed his fists. I could practically see smoke coming from his ears. “Good day, gentlemen,” he grunted.

  I took Mom’s cell phone from my pocket. It had betrayed us. It was the reason they’d found this place. And I was not going to be taken advantage of again.

  I reared my arm back and threw the phone into the jungle.

  “Let’s get out of here before more of them come!” Aly said. “We have what we need.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said.

  Aly smiled sheepishly. She threw her arms around me, nuzzling her head on my shoulder. “Jack, you’re the best.”

  “Mush,” Torquin said.

  I pulled the Loculus of Flight from its sack. We would use both Loculi to get to the beach quickly, airborne and unseen.

  But all I could think about was the phone. And its owner.

  I don’t even remember the flight back to the beach.

  I do remember seeing the shining hull of Slippy from high in the air. And Fiddle’s relieved smile as I let go of the others’ hands, making them visible as we touched down on the sand. “Where’s Jack?” he shouted, running to greet us.

  Aly nudged me in the side. As I put my Loculus down in the sand, Fiddle jumped back. “Aaaghh! Don’t scare me like that!”

  “Sorry, it’s the Invisibility Loculus,” I said. “It makes you invisible. Which is useful when you’re flying over enemy territory.”

  He nodded. “You got them both—awesome! Cass, Bhegad, and Dr. Bradley are on board. We’re ready to book.”

  I slipped the Invisibility Loculus into its sack, grabbed them both by the canvas tops, and ran after the others toward the jet. “How’s the professor?” Aly shouted.

  “Dr. Bradley’s doing the best she can. They’re in the back of the plane. We managed to get a lot of equipment from the hospital—for him and for you.” Fiddle slowed. “Dr. Bradley can continue your treatments for a while. If you guys die, our dream is over. The KI really goes down in flames.”

  “Sorry to spoil things for you,” Aly remarked.

  Fiddle blushed. “Plus I care about you guys. Seriously. We all do. Now come on. They’re going to find us. While you were gone, more Massa flew into the compound. Top brass, I think. Huge plane.”

  As we raced the final few yards to the jet, Cass appeared at the jet’s hatch, at the top of the ladder. “Sgniteerg!” he said. “Hope you’re impressed I could say that.”

  Aly bounded up the ladder. “Just glad you’re feeling . . . terbet?”

  Cass winced. “I think you mean retteb.”

  Fiddle put his arm on my shoulders. “Good luck, tiger. Thanks for saving my sorry butt. You’re in the hands of the Jolly Red Giant now.”

  “Aren’t you coming with us?” I asked.

  “I found some more of our people in the jungle,” he replied. “A small group, mostly injured and scared. I don’t know how they made it out. But along with the prisoners from the dorm—it’s a core, and who knows how many more we’ll find. I want to stay here with them. Build a force, if we can.”

  “The Massa will wipe you out,” I said.

  Fiddle gave me a wry grin. “Best brains. Biggest muscle power. Which would you bet on?”

  “Good point,” I said. “I feel sorry for the Massa.”

  I gave Fiddle a bear hug and scampered up the ladder. As I took a seat near Aly and Cass, Torquin squeezed his frame into the cockpit. From the back of the plane, Professor Bhegad’s voice called out feebly: “Children . . . Aly . . . Jack . . . Cass . . . Marco . . .”

  He was lying on a set of cushions against the rear bulkhead. Dr. Bradley had managed to strap him down and was adjusting the drip on his IV.

  “All here,” I said gently. “All three of us. Marco is . . . gone, Professor. Remember?”

  Professor Bhegad looked confused for a moment. “Yes,” he finally said. “Of course . . .”

  The engine started with a roar. “Belts!” Torquin said.

  I strapped myself in. Over the engine noise I heard a high-pitched cry. I figured it was a seagull.

  Until my eyes caught a motion at the edge of the jungle. People.

  I shone my flashlight through the window. Two figures were running across the sand toward us, waving their arms. One of them was much faster—someone broad-shouldered, with a slightly bowlegged gait and flowing brown hair.

  “Marco?” Aly said.

  But my eyes were fixed on the other person—older, female, her head covered by a bandanna.

  “Stop the plane!” Cass shouted. “Let’s find out.”

  “Too late!” Torquin replied.

  The jet began to turn. I grabbed binoculars from the floor and peered through. The woman and Marco stood shoulder to shoulder now, looking up at us. Shaking her head, she removed the bandanna and flung it to the ground.

  The breath caught in my throat. As the jet turned its pontoons toward the water, the coast grew smaller. Smoke passed across the moon’s surface like lost ghosts.

  “Jack?” Aly said. “What did you just see?”

  I let the binocs drop from my fingers. “My mom.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MONGOLIA

  “HOW CAN YOU be sure?” Aly picked up the binoculars and tried to scan the shore, but it was too dark to see anything.

  I was shaking. “The walk. The way she moved her head when she took off that bandanna. Her eyes . . .”

  “You could see all that?” Aly asked.

  “I could see enough,” I said.

  Aly let out a deep breath. “So it’s true. The photo was real.”

  “Which is a good thing, Jack,” Cass said. “Even if you don’t think so now. You have to have faith that you’ll meet her. That things will work out.”

  “A mom who faked her own death.” I whirled around at him, angrier than I ever thought I’d be. “Who didn’t care enough to be in touch for six years. Who’s part of a team of killers and liars. How will that work out?”

  “A mom who’s alive, when you thought she wasn’t,” Cass said softly.

  I backed off, taking a deep breath. I’d seen Cass’s parents in a newspaper photo that Cass had kept in his backpack. The headline read “Mattipack Crime-Spree Couple Caught!” The mug shots showed two scowling people with bloated, angry faces.

  “How do you have faith?” I asked. “Have you . . . have you ever tried to get in touch with your mom and dad?”

  Cass nodded. “I called the prison a couple of years ago. It was weird. Mom couldn’t believe it was me. I talked a lot, but she didn’t say much. Just listened. When our time was up, I could hear that she was crying. She said ‘Love you, Cassius’—and then, click.”

  “Cassius?” Aly said.

  “From Shakespeare. The play Julius Caesar. Cassius is the guy who has a ‘lean and hungry look.’ They named me after him, I guess. How bad can they really be if they read Shakespeare?”

  “Romeo and Juliet,” Torquin growled. “Very sad.”
br />   Cass leaned forward. “I’m not giving up on them, whether they’re innocent or not—which, by the way, I think they are. You can’t give up on getting your mom back either, Jack. You have to believe that. Maybe she was brainwashed. Maybe she’s trying to escape. Or she’s secretly a spy for the government. Maybe she’s stealing information to save our lives and sabotage the Massa.”

  “Have you ever thought of being a writer?” Aly asked. “You have a good imagination.”

  Cass shrugged. “Ask me again when we’re on the other side of fourteen.”

  For a pessimist, Cass was sounding pretty optimistic. Staring out the window, I let his words sink in. I wanted to be optimistic, too. But as I watched the island disappear behind the clouds, I felt like it was pulling my heart with it.

  “I need to tell my dad,” I murmured. “He needs to know about Mom. He thinks she’s dead.”

  “Jack, you know we can’t contact the outside world,” Aly said. “We’ve talked about this a million times. Your dad will send people to get us. It’s too risky.”

  “It was risky,” I said, “back when we didn’t want anyone to discover the island. But it’s too late for that. The KI is destroyed.”

  “Not destroyed,” Torquin said. “Fiddle still there. With others.”

  “A rebel band,” Aly said.

  “A bunch of injured geeks in a cave,” I said.

  “Hey, they know the territory,” Cass said. “The Massa don’t. It’s a big, confusing place to newcomers. And the Massa also don’t have a Cass to help them expertly etagivan.”

  I sat back. Cass had a point. The Massa may have taken the compound, but they didn’t have the whole area yet. There was a chance we could return with the Loculi. If Professor Bhegad and Dr. Bradley could keep us alive that long.

  “Look, the rebels may be hidden for now, but what about us?” I said. “We have no place to hide. No support on the ground. We need that. I can swear my dad to secrecy. He helps run companies. He knows lots of people, and he’s crazy smart. Besides . . .”

  I stopped myself. I wasn’t going to say I miss him. Even though I felt it.

  “Jack has a point,” Cass said. “Where else could we possibly go?”

  “Maybe Disney World?” Torquin mumbled.

  “What if your dad tries to blow the whistle?” Aly said. “If my parents find out, they will stop at nothing to get me back. They don’t know I have a death sentence. They won’t believe it.”

  “Not sure . . . trust . . .” Bhegad spoke up, his voice heavy and labored. “Your father . . . me . . .”

  “Dad will keep this a secret from the other parents,” I said. “Is that what you’re worried about, Professor? I promise. It’ll be just us and him. No one else. Until we finish the quest. I know this.”

  Cass and Aly exchanged a look. After a long minute, they both nodded. Professor Bhegad was shaking his head, eyes wide. I couldn’t be sure if he was offering an opinion or just trembling.

  “Use this,” Torquin said, handing his phone over his shoulder. “Low enough altitude for signal. But not for long. Hurry.”

  “I’ll text him,” I said.

  “Call him,” Aly said. “He won’t recognize the number. He might think it’s a fake. He’s got to hear your voice.”

  I took the phone. My fingers shook. The last time I spoke to Dad, I was home in Indiana and he was in Singapore. I’d made a total mess in the house. Then I went to school and never saw him again.

  I tapped out the number, held the phone to my ear, and waited.

  Beep.

  At the sound, I nearly dropped the phone. After the fourth ring, a familiar voice chirped: “This is Martin McKinley of McKinley Enterprises. Sorry I can’t take your call. So . . . you know what to do!”

  My mouth was dry. I swallowed hard. “Hey, Dad? It’s me. Um . . . I just wanted to . . .”

  Click.

  I took the phone from my ear. “It hung up!”

  “You weren’t loud enough,” Aly said. “It didn’t pick up any sound. Try again—and speak up!”

  As I held my thumb over the phone, it beeped. I nearly dropped it again. On the screen were the words MCKINLEY, M.

  Shaking, I held it to my ear. “H-hello?”

  “Jack?” I could hear Dad breathing on the other end. “Jack, is that really you?”

  I nodded. I thought I was going to pass out.

  “He can’t see you nod!” Aly whispered. “Say something.”

  About a billion words were stuck in my throat, all trying to elbow each other aside. “Yes,” was all I could manage.

  He didn’t answer, and I thought he’d hung up.

  “Keep going,” Aly urged.

  “Sorry about the living room!” I blurted out. “And the bedroom. And the fact that Vanessa quit.”

  Dad’s voice was choked. “Dear lord . . . it is you. Where are you, Jack?”

  “I—I don’t know,” I said. “I mean, I’m on a plane. With friends. But we need to get away from some people. Somewhere remote.”

  “Not too remote!” Torquin barked. “Need lots of fuel. Won’t be enough.”

  “Why?” Dad replied. “Who are you getting away from? Who was that speaking?”

  “Our pilot, Torquin,” I said. “Dad, please. I’ll explain everything later. You have to help us. Where are you?”

  “Mongolia,” he replied. “I can meet you here.”

  “Mongolia?” I took the phone from my ear and put it on speaker.

  “Far,” Torquin replied. “Very very very far.”

  “It’s a small, private airport!” Dad’s voice called out. “North of Ulaanbaatar.”

  “Can we make it?” I asked Torquin.

  He shrugged. “No choice.”

  “Okay, Dad,” I said into the phone. “Can you give Torquin directions?”

  “Turkin?” Dad said. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

  Red Beard was accessing the route settings on a console world map. “Name Torquin,” he said.

  Seven hours later, Slippy was above the clouds, but they were a blur. Everyone but Torquin and me had fallen asleep, but now Cass’s face was plastered to the window.

  “Can you tell where we are?” I asked.

  Cass shrugged. “We’re traveling about Mach 2, twice the speed of sound. Which means if I told you where we were, by the end of the sentence we’d be somewhere else. But I saw some desert. Maybe the Gobi. Which means we’re close. Ask Torquin.”

  As I rubbed my eyes, I noticed Torquin’s brow was beaded with sweat, his knuckles white on the controls. “Close,” he said.

  I glanced at the fuel gauge, which was nearly on empty. I looked at Aly and Cass. She was awake now, and her eyes were fixed on the gauge.

  “Um, Torquin?” I said. “About that fuel indicator? When my dad’s car hits E, there’s, like, thirty miles before the gas runs out. So, we’re going to be all right. Right?”

  “No,” Torquin said. Sweat was dripping from his arm.

  “What do you mean, no?” Aly snapped.

  “Opposite of yes,” Torquin said. “Cutting engine. Now. Will save fuel.”

  “Will kill lives!” Aly said. “You can’t just glide!”

  “Will turn it on when closer,” Torquin replied.

  From behind us, Dr. Bradley spoke up. “Oh, dear heavens, why didn’t we just land in Russia?”

  “Next time,” Torquin said.

  The plane went silent. We took an abrupt downward dip, hurtling through the clouds. Torquin began calling flight instructions into his headset.

  Professor Bhegad let out a moan of pain. I felt Aly’s hand clutching my arm. Below us stretched a green plain surrounded by mountains. A stampeding herd of horses sent up dust clouds, their shadows long in the morning sun, their manes flowing behind them. If we weren’t about to die, they would have been beautiful. In the distance, covered by a ceiling of gray, was a sprawling city surrounded by plumes of smoke.

  Torquin’s phone, which was now resting in a cup holde
r, began to buzz. He reached over to grab it but his hand was shaking. It clattered to the floor and I scooped it up myself.

  My dad’s name showed on caller ID. I put it to my ear. “Dad!” I shouted. “Do you see us?”

  “You’re coming in too low!” he shouted. “What is your pilot doing?”

  Torquin took the phone from my hand. “Mayday!” he bellowed. “Low fuel. Mayday!”

  He flicked a switch, turning the engine back on. The plane juddered hard, as if we’d flown into a solid fist. From the rear, Professor Bhegad cried out loudly.

  I could feel us nosing upward. In the distance was a compound of low glass buildings.

  “The runway is clear!” Dad’s voice was shouting. “You’re coming in short!”

  “Do it, Slippy . . .” Torquin said. “Do it!”

  The roaring engine sputtered weakly, then died.

  We hit hard. My knee jammed into my chest. Beneath us was a noise like a thousand cars, flattened, dragged, scraping across the ground. It was punctuated by panicked screams—Cass, Aly, Dr. Bradley, everyone except Torquin. We whipped abruptly right and left. Rocks slammed into the windshield.

  I heard the deep ripping of metal and felt a sharp jolt. Looking out the window I saw the wing break off like ice from a roof.

  The plane tipped sharply upward. We were going to roll over. I struggled to turn toward Aly and Cass, to see them one last time. But my head slammed forward into the back of the pilot’s seat and everything went black.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  DEATH IS COLD

  THE MANGLED STEEL vanishes. The field is blackness. I hear nothing but a distant whoosh.

  If I am dead, then death is cold.

  The darkness gives way to an emerging dream light, and I am on a rocky cliff over a vast sea. The wind lashes my face and I struggle to walk. My chest is bloody, my arms and legs weak, my face chapped and burned. I shiver, huddling into myself.

  Is this the Dream again?

  I don’t think so. Gone is the smoke-dark green of ancient Atlantis, the bitter lushness of the air, the raging fire, steep canyon slopes—the recurring scene that has been with me for years.