Undertow

Bachman blinks as if there’s something in her eyes. I suspect it’s her brain rebooting from all this information. I quietly pray that she’ll do the right thing. Don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid.

 

The governor shakes her head. “Lyric, you know as well as I do that those things in the water headed this way are just more of your boyfriend’s family. You tell him if more of his ilk come within twenty miles of this beach, we will fire on them. Now, if you’re finished with your story, let me get down to business. We’ve assembled some rocket launchers over there on the boardwalk, and we’re going to fire them at this camp if you don’t vacate the premises by noon tomorrow.”

 

“You can’t do that,” I say. “There are children in this camp.”

 

“Sorry, honey, but the Alpha have lost their lease,” she says.

 

“You’re attacking the wrong people!” I shout.

 

“Noon, Ms. Walker. Put it on your calendar.”

 

Fathom takes my hand. “We’re wasting our time. We have to prepare.”

 

“Please,” I cry. “Evacuate everyone you can.”

 

We step back through the wall, and Luna fills the hole. I can see Bachman shaking her head in disbelief. She didn’t listen. She’s not going to do a thing.

 

 

 

 

 

My plan hurts Bex’s heart, but she listens. It’s the only thing I can think to do to spread the word about the doomsday that approaches.

 

“I don’t know his password,” she says.

 

I pull up his website on my phone, thanking heaven that it still has a charge, then click on the log-in page. “I think I can guess it.”

 

I type in my best guess. It’s a complete long shot. Passwords can be nearly impossible to guess, but I knew him. Shadow had a one-track mind. I press enter and wait for the rejection. When it opens, I almost cry.

 

“What? Did you get in?” She’s completely surprised. “How did you guess the password?”

 

“It was ‘Becca Conrad.’”

 

She bites her lip, and the tears just fall. I grab her tight and squeeze. “Bex, there isn’t much battery left on this phone. If it dies before we finish, we’ll fail a lot of people.”

 

“So no time for hair and makeup. I get it,” she says, wiping her damp cheek. She reaches out her hand and takes the phone, focuses it on me, then presses the Record Video button. A red light comes to life near the lens.

 

“My name is Lyric Walker,” I say. “For seventeen years I have lived in Coney Island. For three of them I have been lying to nearly everyone I know about what my mother and I are. We’re Alpha. To protect my family and myself and the people I care about, I kept it a secret.

 

“You may have heard of me. You may think you know me from what you’ve heard. That’s fine. I’m not going to argue with you, but one thing I will tell you is, I am not a liar. Tito Ramirez was my friend. He would say the same. Please believe me and listen when I tell you that the people of Coney Island are in terrible danger.”

 

I tell them everything I know about the Rusalka and what they can do. I tell them the government has it all wrong and should be fighting with us but aren’t. I tell them that if they can get out of the Zone—out of New York entirely—that they should do it. I beg them to try. Then we stop the video and upload it to Shadow’s website. I watch the battery sink from ten percent to five, then two, then one, and then it’s gone. I have no idea if the upload was completed. It could have all been for nothing.

 

Bex sits down in the sand and closes her eyes.

 

“Are you okay?” I have no idea how hard it must be for her. I loved him, but what they had was a whole new world.

 

“Shhh,” she says. “I’m praying to him. The hottest girl at school told him she loves him. He owes me.”

 

 

 

 

 

None of us sleeps. Everyone has a job to do to prepare for the Alpha’s last stand. I finally meet the Feige boy, who speaks in a snakelike hiss. His name is Thrill, and he and Arcade use their gloves to fortify the wall with more trash, dragging it out of the depths of the Coney Island waterfront and flinging it onto the weaker sections. It’s amazing what comes flying out of the water: a carousel horse, subway cars, parts of what looks like a steam engine, the bow of a sailboat, and huge jagged sheets of glass. The wall is twice as thick now as it was before, but I can’t imagine it will stand up to missiles fired from one side and a monster invasion from the other.

 

Ghost and Luna build bunkers and tunnels on the beach to prepare for the Rusalka. I’m amazed at what they can do in such a short amount of time. The water they’ve tamed scoops the sand and earth away like it’s a big shovel. The holes will hide our fighters underground, ready to pop up and attack when the Rusalka come ashore. I hear some grousing from some of the Selkies that the plan is dishonorable, that the Alpha should stand and fight, not hide like eels, but Nor reminds them that the eel is deadly and that standing and fighting makes for easy targets. Their argument threatens to turn into a fight, until Fathom steps in and approves Nor’s plan.

 

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