“What?”
I turn toward the horizon. In the distance I can see the navy ship that has stalked us for days rise up into the sky on the back of an enormous spout of water. I can see specks leaping off it and assume they are sailors, and then I watch as it is thrown like a child’s toy toward the beach, rising effortlessly in an arc over my head, passing above the wall, and crashing down hard on the other side. Its impact is devastating. There are screams and explosions, and most of the wall disintegrates right before my eyes, including a huge section that once stood before me. A wave of heat knocks me around, sending me flying.
I struggle to stand, and when my eyes focus, I see an entire section of the wall is missing. On the other side is devastation. The ship landed on the tanks and trucks. There must be hundreds of soldiers dead from the collision, hundreds more seriously wounded. The bars and amusement park are obliterated by the skid the ship went into before finally stopping three blocks away. The only thing that survives, by some insane miracle, is the Cyclone roller coaster.
“We have to run!” I shout. There’s no way we can fight something that can throw a ship a mile into the air.
“No,” Fathom commands. “Rebuild the wall! Ghost, deliver the next part of the plan.”
“What’s the point?”
“The point is that there is now nothing between the Rusalka and your world,” Thrill shouts as he commands the water to sweep over the beach, collecting the refuse the missiles destroyed. “Use the ship!”
“It’s too big!” I cry.
“Then be bigger!” he shouts.
I don’t know why I’m trying, but I am. I’m so shaken, it’s nearly impossible to concentrate. Still, I breathe and water rushes over my feet, through the hole, and toward the fallen destroyer. It swirls around until it’s floating on its side, and then, to my amazement, it slowly drifts back toward us, filling the space in our wall. Before I know it, the gap is sealed.
“I did it!” I cried.
Thrill grins, then frowns. “Your nose.”
I reach up, knowing it’s leaking blood.
Ghost cups his hands to his mouth and lets out his own howling command. “Let’s bring them to us.”
This is the part of the plan I love. I turn back to the water, raise my gauntlet, and let it find the Rusalka. There are just over a thousand of them, and I give a mighty tug with my mind. The ocean wraps itself around their bodies and drags them helplessly to the beach. I can see them tumbling in the water, unable to control themselves, and then they are spat out on the sand like something rancid. They’re broken and confused but quickly on their feet, shaking off their dizziness and charging in our direction. Horrible hooked claws spring from their hands. Teeth snap. They have no weapons. Their bodies are deadlier than any sword.
And our secret Alpha rise up from their trenches, leaping high into the air and coming down on top of the vicious breed. I see spears sink into flesh and tridents impale brown skin. I see creatures shocked to death like Svetlana Wilder, and I see Nix teeth ripping into muscles.
Nor uses his sword to slice off a Rusalka’s arm. The bloody stump lands at my feet. Its hand is wearing a gauntlet.
“Good, that’s four hundred and ninety-nine more to go,” I say.
“They’re sending a wave!” Luna warns.
I look out at the shoreline and see it sucked out to sea. Within seconds every drop of water has receded, exposing endless amounts of debris on the muddy sea floor. On the horizon it gathers and builds, the entire ocean rising up to kill us. Water stands forty feet high, and then breaks, racing toward us like a runaway semi truck.
I raise my glove and try to think big. I can feel the impact the five of us have on it. We shrink it, send huge portions of it racing in other directions, but it’s not enough. I’m trapped between the wave and a wall of trash, and like a great, greedy hand it pulls me under, tosses me around in all directions, and then tightens its grip until I’m crunched like a paper ball. I am no longer in charge of this shell. My lungs burn for air, but I have no way of knowing which way is up or down. I fight my own brain to keep myself from opening my mouth. My body wants oxygen even if it knows there is none to be had, and it will suck in seawater and drown me if I don’t get to the surface. But I can’t find up or down. I do not know where I am or how to get to safety.
Finally, as I become unable to stop myself from taking that false breath, I am spat out on the beach mere feet from the Alpha wall. Choking and blind, I wipe my eyes and scan my surroundings. The others are gone.
“Ghost! Arcade! Thrill!”
There are no answers but the waves crashing around me.
“Fathom!”
“Lyric Walker!” It’s Arcade’s voice. She’s behind me, helping Ghost to his feet.
“Where is Thrill?” I shout.
“I do not know,” she cries.