together a little longer … for his sister.
“Thanks,” he told Felix, and then looked at Madison.
She pursed her lips, opened her mouth, and looked for a second like she was going to say something encouraging—then finally told him, “Don’t mess this up, Blackwood!”
She and Felix darted out of the shed.
Ethan didn’t think he’d ever understand Madison … or any girl.
He closed the armor. The wasp hummed to life around him.
He crouched and jumped out of the shed, destroying the roof in the process.
The wasp’s wings snapped into place and he shot straight into the air.
ETHAN DID EXACTLY AS FELIX HAD ORDERED —he flew low. The truth was, as soon as he started flying … he was too scared to do anything else. He dodged and rolled past tree trunks and rocks and branches, keeping low and out of sight. If he hit one of those (flying, he guessed, at two hundred miles an hour), he’d be bug paste.
The acrobatic moves soon became easy, though. It felt like Ethan and the wasp swam in slow motion underwater, able to slide and roll and carve through the air with precision.
What wasn’t easy were the doubts that caught up with him.
He tried to focus on his sister, on how much she depended on him … even if she didn’t know it.
But his thoughts drifted back to his parents.
For the first time in his life, he
wanted
them to bedifferent—different because they had only four children when everyone else in the neighborhood had eight or nine—different because they’d raised him and Emma to think on their own and not care what anyone else said about them—and different because with all his heart, Ethan hoped that they weren’t part of the mind-controlled alien Collective that would make them … well,
not
real parents.
He crossed the mountain ridge and zoomed down the barren slope.
He’d be easy to spot, so he quickly ducked into a crevasse. From there he could see the desert wasteland where the Geo-Transit Tunnel emerged.
Nothing had tried to stop him … so he figured nothing had seen him.
So far, so good.
Although there were plenty of things out there
to
see him.
At least twenty drones patrolled the airspace along the train tracks. He spotted a few of the smaller red-and-black wasps darting by too. Those worried him. Madison’s dragonfly had fought those. They were nimble and fast.
He wondered if his wasp’s stealth mode affected other wasps. Was the stealth mode even on? He wished this wasp armor came with an instruction manual.
There was a glint of silver on one view screen by the tunnel entrance.
Ethan squinted. The wasp magnified the image for him.
It was nothing but a mirage ripple.
But then colored filters and strange symbols and targeting circles swarmed over the ghostly form. The monitor turned black and white and Ethan saw the outline of an ant lion. Its silver armor was near-perfect camouflage.
The last thing he wanted to see was one of
those
things again.
He shuddered … and got a bad feeling.
“Pull back the view,” he told the wasp.
The black-and-white image on-screen zoomed back out.
Ethan gasped.
There were a dozen ant lions clinging to the side of the cliff, clustered around the tunnel. Also, on the ground, set every fifty feet along the train tracks, there was a dimple in the dirt. In the center of each depression were silver camouflaged jaws, black beady eyes staring out, and the snout tip of an artillery cannon.
More ant lions
.
This was bad. Anything that got close to the train tracks or the tunnel would get blasted before it could shoot back. He’d imagined he’d be able to blow up the tracks by lining up a shot—fly down the track’s length so he wouldn’t miss and would cause maximum damage. The way those ant lions were positioned, though, he’d be lucky to get one flyby shot before they took him out.
“Felix? Madison? Can you hear me?”
There was a burst of static; then Felix answered, “Roger that, Blackwood. We just got to the
“Thanks,” he told Felix, and then looked at Madison.
She pursed her lips, opened her mouth, and looked for a second like she was going to say something encouraging—then finally told him, “Don’t mess this up, Blackwood!”
She and Felix darted out of the shed.
Ethan didn’t think he’d ever understand Madison … or any girl.
He closed the armor. The wasp hummed to life around him.
He crouched and jumped out of the shed, destroying the roof in the process.
The wasp’s wings snapped into place and he shot straight into the air.
ETHAN DID EXACTLY AS FELIX HAD ORDERED —he flew low. The truth was, as soon as he started flying … he was too scared to do anything else. He dodged and rolled past tree trunks and rocks and branches, keeping low and out of sight. If he hit one of those (flying, he guessed, at two hundred miles an hour), he’d be bug paste.
The acrobatic moves soon became easy, though. It felt like Ethan and the wasp swam in slow motion underwater, able to slide and roll and carve through the air with precision.
What wasn’t easy were the doubts that caught up with him.
He tried to focus on his sister, on how much she depended on him … even if she didn’t know it.
But his thoughts drifted back to his parents.
For the first time in his life, he
wanted
them to bedifferent—different because they had only four children when everyone else in the neighborhood had eight or nine—different because they’d raised him and Emma to think on their own and not care what anyone else said about them—and different because with all his heart, Ethan hoped that they weren’t part of the mind-controlled alien Collective that would make them … well,
not
real parents.
He crossed the mountain ridge and zoomed down the barren slope.
He’d be easy to spot, so he quickly ducked into a crevasse. From there he could see the desert wasteland where the Geo-Transit Tunnel emerged.
Nothing had tried to stop him … so he figured nothing had seen him.
So far, so good.
Although there were plenty of things out there
to
see him.
At least twenty drones patrolled the airspace along the train tracks. He spotted a few of the smaller red-and-black wasps darting by too. Those worried him. Madison’s dragonfly had fought those. They were nimble and fast.
He wondered if his wasp’s stealth mode affected other wasps. Was the stealth mode even on? He wished this wasp armor came with an instruction manual.
There was a glint of silver on one view screen by the tunnel entrance.
Ethan squinted. The wasp magnified the image for him.
It was nothing but a mirage ripple.
But then colored filters and strange symbols and targeting circles swarmed over the ghostly form. The monitor turned black and white and Ethan saw the outline of an ant lion. Its silver armor was near-perfect camouflage.
The last thing he wanted to see was one of
those
things again.
He shuddered … and got a bad feeling.
“Pull back the view,” he told the wasp.
The black-and-white image on-screen zoomed back out.
Ethan gasped.
There were a dozen ant lions clinging to the side of the cliff, clustered around the tunnel. Also, on the ground, set every fifty feet along the train tracks, there was a dimple in the dirt. In the center of each depression were silver camouflaged jaws, black beady eyes staring out, and the snout tip of an artillery cannon.
More ant lions
.
This was bad. Anything that got close to the train tracks or the tunnel would get blasted before it could shoot back. He’d imagined he’d be able to blow up the tracks by lining up a shot—fly down the track’s length so he wouldn’t miss and would cause maximum damage. The way those ant lions were positioned, though, he’d be lucky to get one flyby shot before they took him out.
“Felix? Madison? Can you hear me?”
There was a burst of static; then Felix answered, “Roger that, Blackwood. We just got to the
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