Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)

“Perhaps we can bring him tomorrow,” Spangler says, stiffly.

“That’s great,” I say. “He’s very special and you will all love him.”

Spangler asks each one of the children to take turns introducing themselves to me, and all at once they’re squabbling over who gets to go first. I meet Lilly, and Danny and Geno, and Alexa, and Dallas, and the boy in the back turns out to be Riley after all. I try to remember each name, but I can’t. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to be here much longer.

“Did your mom and dad get sick too?” Georgia asks me.

“Sick?” I ask.

Spangler clears his throat.

“Yes, children, Lyric’s father got sick like your human parents. He is helping us develop a cure.”

I turn to Spangler, ready to demand an explanation for this ridiculous lie, when a little girl with a strawberry blond pixie cut and bright green eyes pushes through the group. She can’t be more than six and holds a stuffed rabbit in her hands with the White Tower logo sewn onto the bottom of its foot. Her name is Chloe, and her bunny is Mr. Fluffer. She’s Sam and Jill Norris’s daughter. They managed a furniture store in Park Slope, and she’s the mirror image of her mother.

“Have you seen them?” Chloe asks me, her face drawn and full of worry.

“Lyric hasn’t been here very long, and as you know, kids, all the infected people have to be kept away from the healthy people. That’s why we can’t let you see your families right now. You could get sick too,” Spangler explains. “They need their rest, but I can take them messages from you, like I always do.”

The children deflate with disappointment, but none of them argue. Even the teenagers seem satisfied by his story. He’s got them trained very well.

I don’t know what to say to them. Everything in this place is a lie. All of this deception against children is gross. Now Spangler and Doyle want to include me in their ugly fairy tale. I didn’t sign on for it. They need to know this is all an illusion.

“I’m going to tell these kids the truth,” I hiss.

“Ms. Walker—”

Something in his voice is threatening. I stare at him for a long moment, and I can see it in his expression. He will hurt everyone I love if I pop his balloon. I let him sweat a few more seconds and then turn back to the kids.

“A few months ago, a man known as the prime attacked Coney Island.”

“The evil king,” Cole says.

“Yes, he is evil. He came out of the sea with a group of people called the Alpha, who, as you know, are related to you. The prime wants to kill everyone who lives on the surface and take it for himself, even though his people disagreed. He used a bunch of scary monsters called the Rusalka to help him. My friends and I tried to fight them, but they were too strong, and our hometown was destroyed.”

“Coney Island is gone?” Breanne asks. She tugs on her braid nervously.

I nod.

“The Rusalka used a machine that controls the ocean, and they sent a huge wave to destroy everything in its path. Your homes are gone. I wish I could make up a story that wasn’t as sad as the truth, but I don’t want to lie to you.”

“Uncle David showed us videos. We saw you fighting them,” Dallas says.

Uncle David?

“Unfortunately, I didn’t fight them hard enough, and now they are attacking other cities, so we need your help.”

“The children have been preparing for this for a long time, Lyric,” Doyle explains. “Some of them for as long as they have been here. They know all about the mission and how important it is. They’ve worked very hard. All they need is for you to show them how to use their secret power.”

“Secret power?” I say. He’s so awful. Now who’s living in a comic book?

Spangler taps a few buttons on his tablet, and I feel a rumbling of motors beneath my feet. Suddenly the ground jerks. The kids hoot and holler, leaping away as the floor slides aside. Chloe takes my hand and pulls me along.

“C’mon, silly, before you fall in.” She giggles, leading me to safety as a massive swimming pool is uncovered. It’s probably twice as big as the one at the YMCA, tiled in blue, with diving boards and depth markers along the perimeter. The salty smell of seawater tickles my nose when it’s finally exposed.

“Kids, do you see the glove on Lyric’s hand? We call that an Oracle. Remember how I talked about the Oracles? Well, Lyric knows how to make one work. Lyric, why don’t you give us a little presentation?” Spangler asks.

“I think the battery is dead,” I say.