Middle Ground

  “If Scott’s right, we can’t get past an entire squad of police,” I argued. In my heart I knew we could trust Scott. I pulled Pat along. “There’s got to be a place we can hide out there,” I insisted. “We can hold out until Justin brings the plane back for us.”

  We ran out the mouth of the tunnel and were met by a steep walkway crudely carved out for the research lab to use. It was more of a gravel trail than a sidewalk and it snaked down to a lopsided pier bouncing in the river current. Steep cliffs shouldered both sides of the canyon and blocked out the setting sun. All that was left was a ribbon of pinkish blue sky. I looked down in each direction and Pat was right. We were trapped. There wasn’t even a crevice to conceal us.

  I pointed down to the pier, the remnants of the research station, and told Pat to follow me. We hugged the side of the canyon wall and I had my eyes set on one thing: a garage made out of corrugated metal, docked at the bottom of the cliff over the water. I ran down a narrow row of steps, past the abandoned research shack, and down to the garage, Pat following close behind.

  The side door was locked and there weren’t any windows to try to break through.

  “Can you dive down underneath?” I asked. “Maybe we can get in through the water?”

  He frowned at the green sludge cemented to the sides of the dock. “Underwater break-ins weren’t in my training,” he informed me.

  “Fine, help me to the roof,” I said, and he lifted one of my feet up and I pulled my weight the rest of the way. The metal was warm and sturdy and there was a square air vent in the corner of the roof. Pat handed me a pocketknife and I used its screwdriver to twist off one screw in each corner of the vent. I pried the metal grate up and stuck my head down in the musty, stagnant air. I heard splashing below, and my eyes adjusted well enough to see a boat looming next to the dock.

  I lowered myself down the hole and dropped two feet until I landed inside the garage.

  “There’s a boat,” I yelled. I opened the garage door and unlocked the side entrance to let Pat in. Pat looked at the speedboat, which had a small life raft fastened to its stern. I found the key hanging on a thin silver chain next to the door.

  Pat looked out at the river while I jumped into the boat and started to unfasten the rope from the cleats. “This is insane,” he said.

  I nodded. “The best ideas always are.” It was crazy. That’s why I was confident it would work. Pat was standing on the pier, hesitating.

  “What are you doing?” I said. “Help me.”

  “No.” He shook his head stubbornly. I glared at Pat. I knew he had been a gopher, someone who intercepted people, for years. He knew how to drive a boat.

  “What’s your problem?”

  “We’re trapped, Maddie.” He looked up and down the bank. “There’s nowhere for us to hide out there. I say we stay in the tunnels.”

  “And turn ourselves in?”

  “The wave-generator plant is down there.” He pointed down the river. “It’s suicide.”

  “There’s got to be a way around it,” I argued. “Scott will help us.”

  “You’re not thinking straight, Maddie. You’re still messed up. This won’t work.”

  He grabbed my arm and tried to pull me out of the boat but I wouldn’t budge. “What’s the matter with you?” he shouted.

  “I have a no-surrender-to-the-cops policy,” I said through my teeth.

  “No, that’s Justin’s policy and he’s insane,” Pat said, his face furious. “You don’t have to agree with him on everything. If you keep listening to Justin you’re going to get yourself killed,” he shouted at me. “He’s dangerous, Maddie. Look what happened to Kristin. Look what’s happening to you.”

  I pressed my lips together. “You want to go to jail?” I asked. “You know the cops are back there looking for us.” Pat shook his head and then he smiled, manipulatively.

  “They’ll bargain with us,” he said. “They let us go if we give them someone they want.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Who do you think?”

  “You would turn Justin over to the cops?”

  “He’s no different from those wave generators. He’ll use you and chew you up and spit you out. I’ve seen him do it. He doesn’t care about you, Maddie. Has he ever told you he has?”

  I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t let in any doubt right now.

  “He saved me, Pat. You don’t understand.”

  “I care about you. I can’t watch you throw everything away because he’s brainwashed you. What he’s fighting for is pointless.”

  He tried again to pull me out of the boat, back onto the creaky ledge. “Trust me,” he said. But that was the problem. I didn’t.

  I let him help me onto the dock.

  “Okay,” I said. “We’ll go back.” His chest rose with a deep breath. Just as he turned to the door, I slid my gun out of the holster at my waist.

  “This is the best way,” he assured me, his back turned.

  “You’re right,” I said. I knew there was only one thing I could do and I felt terrible but I couldn’t let Pat interfere. Maybe I had lost my mind or maybe I was the only one thinking clearly.

  I unlocked the safety and Pat met my eyes for an unbelieving second before I pulled the trigger and the tranquilizer shot pierced his neck. His body immediately slumped to the side and I caught him before he fell off the dock.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I put the earpod back in my ear with shaking fingers. I stared down at Pat’s frozen body. Panic prickled down my back, but I kicked the feeling aside. I remembered Justin’s words that doubt would back me into a corner. And now I was responsible for two lives.

  “Scott?” I asked.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he shouted, and the noise made me wince.

  “There’s a boat down here,” I told him.

  “What? Are you guys onboard?” he asked. I groaned at Pat’s weight as I reached my arms around his chest and dragged him over the gunwale.

  “You could say that,” I said. Pat’s long legs flopped lifelessly over the side and I laid him down on the ground as gently as I could. I grabbed an orange life jacket from a cubby under the steering wheel, put it on, and fastened the belt around my waist.

  “Where’s Pat?” he asked.

  “He’s fine,” I said. “There isn’t time to explain. Just get me out of here.” I turned the key and the engine coughed to life and the propellers cut gentle divots into the water. I finished untying the boat and pushed us away from the pier. Once the boat inched its way out of the garage, I slammed the throttle forward and sent waves spraying up on both sides.

  “Head west, for the ocean,” Scott said. “Once you hit the open water look for red flare lights on the coast,” he said. “It’s about a two-hour ride. I’ll set them up.”

  I brushed away the hair blowing in my face. “What about the generators?” I asked. “What if we can’t drive around them?”

  “Then I’ll turn them off,” he promised. “I’ll get you out of there.”

  I curved around the twisting river. My hands were shaking so bad I could hardly hold the steering wheel. I wasn’t thinking. I was only capable of moving now. I had to trust my instincts. I pushed the throttle forward as high as it would go. “Come on,” I yelled at the engine as if shouting would speed it up. I looked up at the jagged cliffs. Rocks balanced precariously at impossible angles, ready to slip at any moment. I wondered what held them together. Will? Force? Strength? They were both daunting and beautiful, not moving but not completely resting either. Just waiting, waiting for the right time to slip.

  The water was a cloudy gray and I couldn’t see anything through the surface. I lifted my head and let the wind whip through my hair. I was starting to realize I liked this sensation, this idea that anything could happen, that life was as unpredictable as those stones, holding on precariously, waiting to slip. I realized I liked the sensation of fear.

  Scott’s voice came over the radio but it was
crackling. “Maddie,” he said. “I’m going to lose you soon. The generator plant is breaking up the signal.”

  “Just tell me how to get around them,” I shouted through the wind.

  “I’m working on it,” he promised.

  I turned another corner of the river and in the distance the wave farm stretched across the entire horizon, like a white field.

  I watched the sharp propellers of the generators slice through the water. The closer they came into view, the more impressive they were. They stretched hundreds of feet into the sky and then plummeted down with an immense force.

  “Scott?” My voice came out in a whisper. “Why haven’t you turned them off?”

  “Slow down, Maddie,” he said. “I’m losing you. I need more time.”

  I could barely hear him now. My eyes were mesmerized by the blades.

  Scott’s voice came again, muffled through static. He told me to wait.

  The blades reminded me of a giant shark’s mouth stretching for a mile and slashing everything in its path. The mouth waited. Its teeth were white and one hundred feet long and a menacing growl rumbled out of its throat. It clamped and bit and gnawed through the water, daring me to approach it.

  “Maddie, did you stop the boat?” he asked, and his voice kicked me out of my daze.

  I lowered the throttle but the boat still sailed forward, which was odd since the current should have been pushing against it.

  “Weird,” I said.

  “What is it?” Scott asked.

  “It’s like I’m stuck in some kind of suction. I’m being pulled forward, even though I’m not accelerating.”

  There was a quick pause before Scott swore into my earpod. Then I knew what was pulling at me. I twisted the boat around but it didn’t get us out of the vacuum. My grip was so tight on the steering wheel, my fingertips turned white. I shoved the throttle forward and all it did was slow our progress, like a brake that had gone soft.

  Scott’s voice was crackling in and out.

  “Scott?” I yelled. “Do something.”

  “I’m trying!” he shouted back. “I’m in the company’s operation page, but all the controls are encrypted. If I had more time, maybe . . .” he said.

  I looked out at the blades. I was being pulled toward them faster now and the sound of the churning propellers roared at me. The boat started to rock.

  I looked down at Pat for a second and my confidence disappeared and doubt flooded in. I saw extra life jackets and contemplated strapping one on Pat and jumping out. But I knew I couldn’t swim fast enough to get us out of the suction. We’d probably die of hypothermia, if the blades didn’t kill us first. And that gave me an idea.

  I asked Scott if there was a temperature reading anywhere on the control page. He said yes, the water was fifty-two degrees. He told me not to jump in; I couldn’t outswim the current if the boat wasn’t strong enough to escape. But that wasn’t my plan.

  “Do you think the generators are temperature sensitive?” I asked him. He knew immediately what I meant. There’s a reason wave farms aren’t built on glaciers. There are no waves if the water’s frozen.

  I waited while Scott tried to freeze the Pacific Ocean in two minutes. Technology does have its perks. If Scott could tell the wave generators that the water was frozen, maybe the propellers would shut down.

  “I’m trying, Maddie . . .” Scott said through crackling static. Then his voice snapped off and I lost him completely. I swore and yanked the earpod out of my ear and threw it on the dashboard. The boat lurched and rocked in the current. Giant blades, as tall as buildings, sliced the horizon.

  The boat wobbled in white foaming waves as the water was pushed and squeezed around us. I held on to the steering wheel to keep my balance and, for the first time, I felt helpless. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. More than anything, I wanted to see Justin. Why wasn’t he with me right now? At that moment, I hated him for having so much confidence in me. He’d built me up to think I was a leader and I’d believed it. Pat tried to bring me back to reality, but I wouldn’t listen. And now I was going to get us both killed.

  I unclipped the gun on my hip and considered it. I wanted to give up. The blades were so loud they rattled the boat. My teeth chattered.

  I closed my eyes and thought about Justin. I visualized him. I imagined he was here with me. I squeezed my fingers tight, like his hand was inside mine. I thought about my family. I pictured my mom, Joe, and Baley. I pictured my father. An image came to me from when I was young. I remembered my dad carrying me on top of his shoulders. We were walking Baley at a park in Hood River, looking down at the Columbia River gorge and watching the wind sweep the water into whitecaps. Before M28. Before the chaos. Before he changed.

  I looked once more at the chopping knives, so close now water was spraying up over the sides of the boat and in my face. I lifted the gun barrel and pressed the cold metal to my neck. I curled my finger around the trigger and started to press.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I heard a clap of thunder and I looked up at the sky for a storm. I waited for lightning. But there were no clouds, just pinkish-blue sky. Then I looked straight ahead. The giant propellers were slowing down.

  My finger froze on the trigger. I blinked to make sure I wasn’t imagining the blades were slowing down. I reached for the earpod to tell Scott, but the current suddenly slowed down and the boat lurched like someone had slammed on the brakes. I was shoved against the windshield and smashed my head on the glass. My earpod slid off the dashboard and into the river. The propellers slowed to a lazy crawl. The angry metal fangs turned into a garden of white petals, stretching for miles in each direction. The shark turned into a flock of birds and their white wings slowly flapped to a stop.

  I was too relieved to care that blood was running down my forehead and trickling into my eye. I wiped the blood away with my sleeve. The propellers gracefully came to a stop. The side of the boat connected with a shining blade glistening with water, but it hit with a clang and then rebounded off.

  I eased the boat slowly through the range of propellers while I had the chance. The engine coughed in response and we picked up speed. The generators were set up in rows. We entered a white tunnel, frozen still. I held my breath as the boat passed a field of blades on either side. I was listening for any sign the machines would turn back on. All I heard was the gentle purr of the boat and the sound of water bubbling around the motor. I was afraid to speak, as if it would wake the sleeping monster. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, louder than the boat’s engine.

  I took a deep breath and held it when the end came into view. We passed the last row of propellers, and the ocean, like arms open wide, greeted us. I finally let my breath out, but we were still close enough to be pulled back. A line of orange buoys floated in the distance, which I assumed marked safe waters. As I sped away from the plant, the boat engine started to sputter. I kept my hand pushed stubbornly on the throttle.

  “Come on,” I said, and rubbed my hand on the smooth leather dashboard. “Don’t give up on me now.” The motor coughed, sounding like it had a throat full of phlegm, and then, with a labored sigh, it blew out and stopped. I looked over my shoulder at the wave farm. Everything was eerily quiet, like the sky just before a tornado strikes when nature is gathering up forces. The blades were sharks again. Sleeping. There were no sounds, just my heart jabbing against my ribs.

  I ran to the back of the boat and tore the cover off the motor to find water bubbling over the sides, flooding it. I tried starting the engine again and the motor coughed weakly in response. I cursed and smacked the steering wheel, as if screaming at it would scare it into working. A siren wailed, like a foghorn, and it made me jump. A sweeping sigh filled the air, as if the sky were yawning. I looked over my shoulder. The propellers started to turn. The buoys teased me in the distance. I was still a hundred yards away from safe waters.

  I swore again and tried to start the engine, with no luck. I ran over to Pat and shoo
k him, but he was still motionless. I looked out at the ocean and wondered how long I would last in the water if I could make it to a buoy. And then I remembered the life raft.

  I hurdled over the driver’s seat and jumped down to the stern of the boat. The extra craft was still there, attached to the hull. The propellers were gaining speed now, starting to churn the water. The boat began to inch back, jostled by the waves. There wasn’t time to think. Only to move.

  I ran over and pulled on Pat’s sweatshirt to try to lift him. He didn’t budge, so I grabbed him underneath his arms and dragged him across the deck. I struggled with his weight, and when we got to the back, I jumped down into the raft and pulled Pat over the edge until his legs swung down. I pulled Pat down and unclipped the harness that attached the raft to the speedboat. The raft had a small motor at the rear, and when I yanked its black nylon cord, the engine sputtered. I swore and gave the cord another pull and the engine kicked in, muttering a reply. I turned the boat out to sea and prayed we weren’t too late. The boat crawled forward, already fighting against the propellers pulling us back.

  “Come on,” I said. “Come on.” I kept my eyes on the target of the buoys bobbing calmly in the distance. I willed them closer, as if my mind could help power the boat. When I was certain the orange markers were approaching, I allowed myself a peek behind. I looked back to see the other boat caught in the suction, slowly being pulled to the blades.

  I looked ahead again, and once we were safely past the orange buoys I turned in my seat to watch the fate of the blue speedboat. The propellers continued to lure it closer until the boat was caught in the blades and let out a squeal as the metal frame twisted apart. The boat exploded in a loud gust and splinters of wood and metal flew into the air. The blades chipped and pulled the boat apart in thin slices. It hacked the pieces of splintering wood into tiny fragments. The propellers cut and chewed until all that was left was floating debris of wood being tossed and spit out in the churning waves. I watched the pieces floating in the water, knowing it could have been my bones crunching under the blades, and my blood churning in the white teeth.