Sunwing by Kenneth Oppel Page A

wanted to smash it.
    So smash it.
    She skimmed the ground and found the biggest stone she could carry. Clutching it in her rear claws, she flew high, took aim, and let it drop. She tracked it as it plummeted and hit a pane of glass square in the center. Nothing. Not so much as a splinter. Again she picked up a stone, labored into the air, and dropped it on the same spot. It bounced off harmlessly.
    That left only one choice.
    She’d have to use the portal.
    It only opened one way, she remembered Shade explaining. No way was she going to be trapped inside that forest again. She glided low, and finally her eyes picked out what she was searching for. A stick, thick and not too tall. She grabbed it and flew to the portal. Just inside, she tried to remember what had happened last time, how quick the drop was at the tunnel’s end. She started down, pausing at the edge. She took a deep breath, wings spread, and dropped over.
    Sparks shot from her claws as she dug into the sides. Her flared wings pushed against the shaft, slowing her down a little. Slower … slower … she urged herself. With her echo vision now she could see the end of the shaft rushing toward her, the metal flap that only swung one way. If she didn’t slow down enough she’d simply fly through, and that would be the end of it.
    She jammed her wings even harder against the shaft walls, burying her claws in the metal, and—
    The flap swung up as she neared it, and she wedged herselfinto the opening. Gasping with the effort, she quickly jammed the stick against the flap. It came down hard and caught, grinding. The stick skittered a bit, then held.
    Through the portal she saw the forest.
    She was back in.
    But this time she had a way out.
    Standing on Chinook’s back, Shade blasted sound into the tiny hole in the metal panel. The returning echoes filled his head with a complicated weave of metal. Quickly he tried to make sense of it all. Some kind of lock. And the Humans must have some kind of tool to push inside and open it. Maybe he could make his own tool—with sound. Open the lock that way.
    He didn’t know what was on the other side of the panel, but he wasn’t about to wait around here any longer. The other bats were crouched on the floor, some silent and staring, others muttering forlornly among themselves.
    “Can you open it?” Chinook asked from below.
    “I hope so.”
    “You can do it,” said Chinook, nodding confidently. “I’ve seen you knock those stones around. You can do it.”
    “Thanks,” he said, touched by Chinook’s loyalty. He sang a needle of sound into the opening and watched in his head as it ricocheted off the metal pieces, making one or two move gently. But he saw the pieces he would need to move: three of them, all at the same time. He took a deep breath, took aim, and sent out a three-pronged bolt of sound. Metal tumbled, and there was a small
pop
that jolted the panel.
    “I’ve done it,” he whispered to himself, then more loudly, “I’ve done it. It’s open!”
    The other bats looked up at him.
    “But we don’t know what’s on the other side,” said the banded Long-ear. “Maybe we’re better off here.”
    “Maybe this is what’s supposed to happen,” another bat said hopefully. “Arcadia always said that whatever the Humans do is part of the plan.”
    “Does this feel like something good?” Shade said bitterly. “When they cut into us back there? Tied these things to our bodies? Don’t you remember how much it hurt?”
    The horrible wail of that room still echoed in his head.
    “But maybe we’re supposed to endure the suffering. Maybe it’s a test?” said the Long-ear.
    “Maybe,” said Shade, and for a moment, he wanted to lie down on the floor too, just rest and wait. Had this happened to his father too? How he wished he could speak to him now.
    He looked at the bats and sighed. “The panel’s unlocked,” he said simply. “Anyone who wants to can leave. Come on, Chinook, we’re getting out