Traps and Specters (13 page)

N
oah and Richie fell from the tunnel into an enormous space. Richie kicked at the air, his flashy running shoes leaving momentary streaks of color. Noah touched down on a large, flat net and quickly rolled aside to make room for his friend, who landed with a grunt. After climbing to his knees on the cords, Noah stared out.

They were in a tall glass building the length of a football field. A wild mesh of nets filled the otherwise open space, running in all directions and angles and connecting in all sorts of ways. They reminded Noah of the climbing nets in playgrounds and parks. Some rose like ladders, while others lay flat. Some sagged, and others were pulled tight. Some angled and curved like the steep corners of a racetrack, and others just dangled from the heights.

“No way,” Noah said.

He'd never seen a sector so crowded. There were tens of thousands of butterflies—maybe hundreds of thousands. They flew all around, their gentle wings whisking against his body. They flitted through the nets and perched on their cords. The air seemed to be exploding with silent fireworks.

About thirty yards to Noah's left, the Descenders were climbing down a vertical net, chasing a group of butterflies. In their midst, the thin flag fluttered and snapped like a magician's handkerchief. The butterflies swept beneath the edge of a cargo net and began to fly straight, taking the flag with them. The Descenders jumped onto horizontal nets and charged on their feet after them.

Richie was lying on his stomach, his back covered in butterflies. He lifted his head and revealed the faint impression of a rope across his face. When a butterfly struck one lens of his glasses, he flinched and his arms slipped between the cords.

“A little help …” he said, his arms dangling beneath him.

Noah grabbed Richie's jacket and hoisted him up among a scatter of butterflies. Richie looked out across the sector and neatly summed up the scene: “Wow …”

Noah pointed toward the Descenders and said, “C'mon—the flag's that way.”

They stood and jogged along the net, careful not to let their feet slip through the holes. Butterflies began to land on Noah, one after another. He saw the orange spots of monarchs and the black-and-white stripes of swallowtails.

The butterflies with the flag had shifted directions and were flying back into the heights. The Descenders, climbing now on a vertical net that resembled the rope rigging on the mast of a pirate ship, were closing fast on them, Solana in the lead. Noah saw how the net that he and Richie were on continued straight for about thirty yards before ending at an open space surrounding the net their adversaries were scaling, and he suddenly had an idea. Maybe he and Richie wouldn't need to reach the flag first.

“Richie, I need you to follow me as fast as you can!”

“What for?”

“To grab the flag. Just stop when I don't.”

Before Richie could ask another question, Noah charged forward. He fought to keep his balance on the wobbly rope, his ankles turning and twisting. Butterflies peeled off him like a layer of fine snow. As the end of the net grew near, Noah stared up to see Solana reaching out for the flag. Perfect timing. He launched himself into the air, his arms and legs stretched in opposite directions, and touched down on the vertical net, sending tremors across its corded reaches. Solana's feet slipped out from under her just as she snatched the flag, and she fell, one hand holding the flimsy fabric, the other grabbing at the air.

Noah clung to the swaying net and stared back at the one he'd just jumped from. Richie was standing at its edge.

“Here it comes, Richie!”

His friend's eyes opened wide as he realized what Noah wanted.

Butterflies swirled around Solana as she fell through the open space between the two scouts. At just the right moment, Richie swept out his arm and plucked away the flag in a one-in-a-million grab. The Descender plunged another twenty feet and landed safely in the soft sag of a net below.

Richie stared at his capture, his mouth an oval of surprise. The other Descenders had seen what had happened and were now climbing down, looking very unhappy.

Noah searched the distance for the gateway to the City of Species. Through the ropes and the swarming masses of butterflies, he spotted it. In the core of the building dangled a velvet curtain that was shredded into thin strips and adorned with the orange-and-black patterns of a monarch butterfly.

“Richie—the city gateway!”

Richie stared beneath him. “So?”

“So,
go
!”

Noah jumped off to the side and landed on an angled net several feet beneath them. Richie followed. They ran twenty feet, dove through the air, and went into a roll on the sharp slope of a new net. As they came to rest in a sagging area, Noah snatched the flag from Richie and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. Then they crawled to an edge, tossed themselves over, and dropped several feet to another net, this one pitched at a gentler angle. They climbed to their feet and ran again.

Noah glanced above him to see the Descenders were gaining fast, jumping calmly from net to net, as if they knew the best path to get to the scouts. Noah leaped to a rope wall that dangled in an open channel between the other nets. Richie did the same. As they climbed down, the Descenders split up to cut them off.

“Move!” Noah commanded.

Butterflies continued to swarm around them. They clung to their clothes and swept their wings against their bare skin. As the city gateway drew close, Noah realized its only access big enough for them was through a tunnel-like net that branched out to different areas—the entrance to one branch was just several feet down from the scouts and across the open channel.

The rope wall violently shook. Noah and Richie peered over their heads to see that Sam had landed on their net. He quickly jumped off, raised his wings, and started to coast down through the open space.

Noah quickened his pace, chanting,
“Move, move, move!”

Just as the scouts reached the rope tunnel leading to the gateway, Sam dropped down in front of them, blocking their passage. With his wings fanning the air, the Descender hovered like a hummingbird. Gusts of wind stirred butterflies and snapped the earflaps on Noah's cap. The scouts clung to the wall of rope as it began to sway.

“Almost,” Sam said with a proud smirk. “Now … hand over the flag.”

Noah said nothing. His eyes shifted as he contemplated his options.

“C'mon …,” said Sam, “you didn't actually expect to beat us, did you, kid?”

Noah thought about this and decided he had.

Sam's irritation began to show. “Don't make me take it from you. It'll hurt more than your feelings if I do.”

Noah reached into his jacket pocket and slowly pulled out the flag. Maybe it was best to end it here, before someone got hurt.

“That's it,” Sam said.

Noah glanced at the flag in his hand and noticed something. His arm was buried in butterflies. An idea struck him.

“Richie …” Noah whispered from the corner of his mouth.

“Huh?”

“Get ready.”

Sam seemed to sense Noah was up to something because he said, “Don't try anything stupid, kid. Just toss over that flag and this—”

But before he could finish, Noah pulled back his arm and whipped it forward as if he were throwing a baseball. Dozens of butterflies slipped off his sleeve and flew straight at Sam, who turned his head, his eyes closed.

“Richie—go!”

Noah kicked off the rope wall and dove forward, directly beneath Sam's right wing. Long silver feathers brushed across his body, and then Noah landed inside the rope tunnel. Richie followed, diving under Sam's left wing and touching down next to Noah. Sam swatted away the butterflies and spun around to face the scouts just as they crawled off.

“Go!”
Noah commanded.

Their wrists twisted and their fingers tangled in the cords, but they didn't slow their pace. As they closed to within thirty feet of the gateway, Noah glanced back to see that all four of the Descenders had made their way into the tunnel and were now chasing after them.

Richie's arms slipped through the rope floor, and as Noah stopped to help him up, the Descenders gained on them.

The scouts took off again. The curtain came to within twenty feet, fifteen feet. When they were ten feet away from the gateway, the tunnel grew wider and taller and they clambered up to their feet. Seconds later, the two of them held out their arms and pushed through the loose velvet strips.

CHAPTER 19

A
s Sam charged through the curtain, he slammed into something and stopped with a painful jolt. Hannah crashed into his backside, then Solana and Tameron. Together, the Descenders fell to the rope floor on top of one another. Sam stared up. Protruding through the gateway was the wide, white rump of a polar bear.

“Blizzard,” he grumbled.

Blizzard's stubby tail wagged, surely in amusement, then the velvet pieces slipped off the curves of his big bottom as he stepped back into the City of Species.

The Descenders untangled themselves and jumped to their feet. By the time they stepped into the city, Blizzard and the scouts were already lost in the surrounding crowd. Sam shook his wings and sprinkled butterflies all around.

“That runt,” Sam said, thinking of Noah. “All you guys—get into gear.”

The Descenders knew what this meant. Solana released her quills. As Tameron reached around with both arms and pulled two zippers along his waist, small plates pushed out from slits in his jacket and fused into a flexible suit of reptile-like armor. He pulled his knit cap over his face and the soft fabric hardened into a helmet that left only his eyes and jaw exposed. Then he yanked a cord on his backpack and out spilled his enormous tail.

“Which way?” Solana asked.

The Descenders scanned the streets and the sidewalks between the towering buildings.

Hannah pointed. “There!”

From an alley drifted a winding trail of butterflies.

Without a word, Sam dove into the air. Tameron and Solana raced after him, splitting the crowd of animals. Hannah sprang forward and landed on a high branch. Then she jumped to a tall balcony, scattering a group of possums.

On the streets of the City of Species, the four teenagers did what they did best. They descended.

CHAPTER 20