Everland(45)

My chest clenches, my breath catches, and adrenaline courses through me. She’s going to die right here in front of me. If she dies, we all die. The Professor’s words echo in my mind. What if Bella is the Immune?

I take several steps toward the tower, determined to save her, to catch her before her body splinters into pieces on the ground below. I know I’ll never make it in time, but I must try. I bolt for the fence, throwing myself over it. I land hard on the concrete and look up.

As Bella’s about to plummet, two hands reach for her from the dim shadows of the bell tower, grabbing her by her wrists. A moment later she is pulled inside the belfry. I breathe a sigh of relief, but the respite doesn’t last.

“Someone else is in there!” I shout. “Surround the building, secure every exit, and someone get up to the tower. If Pete’s in there with her, bring him back alive.”

The soldiers race toward the tower, climbing the wrought-iron fence like a tidal wave cresting a levee wall. The masked men surge forward over debris and shattered glass. There’s nowhere for her to go. She’s as good as mine.

“Two girls down, one to go,” I say.





A curl of dirt and dust rises through the opening. My lungs seize, leaving me in a fit of coughs. Multiple hands grab my arms and hurl me through the entrance of the sewer. The crash of wooden beams, rock, and metal scaffolding erupts behind me. I crouch, gasping for air and brushing the dirt from my clothes.

“That was close. Are you all right?” Mole asks, placing a gentle hand on my arm.

“I’m okay,” I say, running my fingers through my kinky curls, pulling out pebbles.

“Well, I guess we’re not going back that way,” Pickpocket says, peering at the wreckage beyond the sewer opening.

Mole bites his lip. “How are we going to get back to the Lost City?”

“There’s another entrance about three kilometers from here,” Jack says. “It’s a little narrow, but we can get through it.”

Pete slams the metal hatch and spins the wheel, locking the entrance shut. I’m about to ask him why the hatch is even there when a hiss slithers through the tunnels of the dark sewer system and answers my question. The wide-eyed expressions on all of the boys’ faces lets me know that I’m not the only one who heard the noise.

“What was that?” Mole says, biting at the frayed cuff of his coat.

“This isn’t good,” Pete says. “We need to get out of here.”

He leads the way, splashing through foul, murky water. I take Mole by the hand to ensure he doesn’t fall behind. The knee-high muck seeps into my boots as I follow. From a nearby tunnel, something growls and then splashes into the water. My pulse quickens.

“What is that?” I ask.

Pickpocket places a hand on my back and urges me on. “Trust me, you don’t want to find out. Keep moving.”

I trudge forward in the sludge, taking two thick steps, but halt when a reptilian hiss travels up the brick tunnel.

“They’re getting closer!” Doc says, looking over his shoulder, his face white with panic.

“They? There’s more than one?” I shift uncomfortably. “And who exactly are they?”

“We’ve got to pick up the pace,” Jack says, passing Pete.

Taking Jack’s lead, the group starts to jog, grunting as they struggle to lift their water-soaked boots. I glance behind me, making sure that Mole and Pyro are still close. While Mole is right on my heels, Pyro stops at a brick archway and rips a stick of dynamite from his belt.

“We’re not going to make it. We’ve got to blockade them,” Pyro says. He runs his fingers across the stones until he finds a crevice in the archway.

“Pyro! Get back here!” Pete shouts.

Pyro ignores him and pulls out a box of matches. “Give me thirty seconds!”

Doc holds a hand up. “Do you hear that?”

The sewer is eerily quiet. Even the rats seem to have gone into hiding, sensing danger.

“I don’t think they’re gone,” Mole whispers.

Pete takes Jack’s lantern and sidles through our group, taking a few steps toward Pyro. “Pyro, I command you to rejoin the group. That’s an order!”

Pyro nods. “Ten more seconds. That’s all I need!” As Pyro lights the fuse of the dynamite, something slithers in the dark, cloudy water behind him.

“Pyro, run!” Pete shouts.

It’s too late. Sharp, serrated teeth clamp down on Pyro’s leg. His bloodcurdling scream shatters the silence as the crocodile drags him under the water. A second reptile, larger than the other, snaps down on Pyro’s arm as he reaches out toward us, pleading for help.

“No!” Pete screams. He starts to run through the water as the crocodiles drag Pyro farther down the tunnel. Pickpocket holds him back.

“It’s too late! We have to go!” Pickpocket says, staring at the dwindling fuse. “Go! Go! Go!”

We rush forward, our waterlogged boots splashing through the murky sludge. Pete struggles in Pickpocket’s grip, fighting to break free. Jack takes Pete’s other arm, and the two Lost Boys drag Pete away as he screams for Pyro.

“No! We can’t leave him!” Pete yells. “Pyro! Come back!”

“He’s gone, Pete. We have to get out of here,” Jack says.