Club Dread (10 page)

NANCY

We must have run the entire way from Matthias's apartment to the entrance of the hotel proper. We flew past a few startled guests, yelling, “I'm sorry!” and, “Excuse me!” every couple of feet. Who knew how much time Frank and Joe had left. There wasn't a moment to spare.

There was a dock for the hover boats right underneath the hotel. The main elevators would take you down there. Matthias must have knocked out Frank and Joe somehow, and then carried them out on the room service cart and dumped them into the elevator. From there, it was just down a few flights and they were home free. I had to hand it to Matthias, it was a brilliant way to get them out of the hotel without anyone seeing.

The dock itself was surrounded by a high fence designed to keep people out after hours. There we found more proof that Frank and Joe had definitely been that way: the lock on the gate had been picked and left open, and there were scraps of fabric caught in the sharp edges of the chicken wire at a low height, as though someone had been dragged through the gate.

There were three boats sitting in the dock, their giant fans still. Hover boats skirt the top of the water, unlike conventional boats, which sit in it. The fans are their main method of moving forward. Regular boats don't work in the swamp because the water is so shallow, a conventional boat motor can shatter its blades on the ground.

“George, do you know where the keys are kept?” I asked, as we looked around the space.

“No! When I came here before, the keys were just in the ignitions of all the boats.”

They must have taken them away to prevent unauthorized people from using them. George and I started searching the small office to the left of the dock, but there was nothing to be found. Then we heard the roar of an engine and the whirr of a fan. We came running back out.

“Bess? You found the keys?” I yelled.

“Who needs keys when you have a set of pliers?” Bess held up some tools she had picked up off the floor
of the dock. Behind her, I could see the wires sticking out of the dashboard. She'd taken the ignition apart and hot-wired the boat! She's a genius with machines—though we were going to have to explain that later to Mr. Thorton. But knowing Bess, she'd be able to put it back together just as easily as she took it apart.

In a few seconds, we were off, zooming through the swamp. It was already dark out, and once we got away from the lights of the hotel, it was hard to see more than a few feet in front of us. Bess flipped a few switches, and two giant floodlights turned on. They were so bright, you could feel the heat coming off them, like spotlights at a theater. They cut two narrow channels through the darkness, but everything else was black as tar.

The swamp at night was a terrifying place. Strange noises came from all sides, high-pitched wailing bird calls, splashing, and creaking. Wet strands of Spanish moss, like cobwebs, only thicker and green, reached down from the trees and caught on our faces and hair. George directed, Bess drove, and I stared off into the night, straining my eyes to catch a glimpse of Frank, Joe, or Matthias.

“I think it's a left up ahead,” George muttered. “No, a right. Oh, Nancy, I don't know if I can remember the right way!”

George kicked the front of the boat, hard, her frus
tration driving her crazy. I reached out and put my arm around her shoulder.

“You can do this, George.”

“Okay. Okay. Go…right.”

We stood in silence at the front of the boat, like the carved prow of an old pirate ship. How easily everything could fall apart. If we were going the wrong way. If they weren't in the swamp at all. If Matthias had already hurt them. If, if, if. I couldn't stop thinking about it.

“There!”

It was George who finally spotted them by the glint of our lights off their boat. It was just sitting there silently. Bess turned the wheel slightly, never slowing down, putting their boat directly in our floodlights. We were headed right toward them, but I still couldn't see anyone on the boat. Were we too late already?

Suddenly, Matthias reared up into the light. He looked insane, his hair wild, his face red and twisted with anger. He might have been screaming, but I couldn't hear him over the roar of our engine. We were so close to him, I could see the wind ruffling his hair.

He put his hand into the waist of his pants, and I knew from the angle of his wrist and the way he moved, he could only be reaching for a gun.

“What do I do?” Bess yelled. Matthias had pulled out a pistol and was aiming it right for us. I looked over
at Bess, about to tell her to turn the wheel and get us out of his line of sight, when I realized that was exactly what Matthias would be expecting. Instead, I leaned over and shoved the throttle down.

If we'd been going fast before, now we were racing like a Nascar driver, skipping along the surface of the water. Matthias barely had time to react before our boat collided with his and everyone was sent flying.

Petrovitch somersaulted through the air like a giant rag doll, and then slammed to the ground on the island where the boat had been tied up.

I managed to hold on to the dashboard of our boat, and struggled to stay on my feet. George and Bess both fell to the floor beside me. Matthias's boat was cracked in the collision, and quickly began to sink. But where were Frank and Joe? And where was Matthias and, more important, his gun?

“Nancy!” I heard Joe's voice coming from the bottom of the hover boat. I peered down and saw Joe, Frank, and Nikitin all tied up. There was at least an inch of water around their feet, and more was pouring in every minute. I rushed down to untie them, George and Bess following right behind me.

Frank was barely conscious, and I ran to untie him first. The knots were slippery from the water and tied tightly. In the dark, it was hard to see the rope to untie it, and fear made my fingers awkward and clumsy.
Between the two of us, Bess and I managed to get Frank's legs untied.

From beneath the dark water, Matthias suddenly emerged. Clenched in his hands was the gun, which was pointing directly at my chest.

“Why, Ms. Drew,” he said. “We simply have to stop meeting like this. Thankfully, I know just how to ensure you never get in my way again.”

Time seemed to freeze. In a few seconds, Matthias would shoot me. Then he would shoot George and Bess, and leave Frank, Joe, and Nikitin to drown. No one would ever know what had happened to us.

Matthias cocked the trigger, and I looked for something to throw at him, some way to distract him, something—anything—to prevent the inevitable. Then a roar came from the dark of the swamp, and a piece of the island seemed to detach itself and come rushing out of the night. For a second, it hung in the air, a darker piece of darkness, and then it landed on Matthias. It was Petrovitch!

I didn't see what happened after Petrovitch jumped on Matthias.

I heard sounds of fighting: punches landing, water splashing, the occasional grunt of pain. I was too busy pulling the ropes off Joe and Frank. We managed to get them free just in time.

Right as we helped Frank half-consciously stumble
onto the safety of the island, the hover boat gave a tortured
crack
! and split in two. Both sides quickly sank beneath the surface.

Petrovitch had Matthias pinned to the ground. He was struggling weakly beneath Petrovitch, but he was no match for his giant strength. Petrovitch looked up as the boat disappeared into the swamp.

“Androvitch? My brother! Where is he?”

I looked around the island. There was no sign of him anywhere. Without a word, Joe leapt into the water.

Long seconds passed. The darkness and the silence grew. An occasional bubble of air drifted up to the surface of the swamp, but aside from that, everything was still.

The water rippled where Joe had dived in, concentric circles which grew bigger and bigger as they expanded outward from the point of impact. Then those too stopped, and there was nothing, no movement, no sound, no sign of Joe or Nikitin. I realized I was holding my breath.

Joe's head broke the water like a fist through a glass window. Sprays of water went everywhere. He gasped loudly, sucking air into his desperate lungs. Then he slowly raised his arms out of the swamp, dragging the limp—but still breathing—figure of Androvitch Nikitin out of the water. They were both alive!

FRANK

“Help!” Joe screamed. He was cornered.

George came running through the water, Bess right behind her. Joe dodged to the right and left them in his wake. I was in the clear. Joe threw the beach ball to me—and Nancy snagged it out of the air. I tackled her. She went down like a ton of bricks.

I had the ball in my hand, but Bess leaped onto my back before I got more than two feet. Then Joe was on top of her, and George on top of him. Soon we were all in a pile in the shallow water. When we finally came up for air, the ball was floating five feet away.

“I think the ball is laughing at us,” Nancy said.

“It's just intimidated by my natural athletic ability,” Joe said, winking at Bess.

George came up behind him and easily dunked him underwater.

“Your natural what?” she said.

We all headed back to our beach chairs, our game forgotten. Now that our mission was over, we still had a day to enjoy the sun. With Petrovitch's muscle and Bess's know-how, we'd managed to get one of the hover boats up and running that night in the swamp.

I came to shortly after Joe pulled Nikitin out of the water. His skin was white and clammy, and the blood from his forehead had caked on his face. Mixed with the mud from the bottom of the swamp, it made him look like an extra from a zombie film. Thankfully, I knew some first aid and was able to stop the bleeding and get him bandaged up. We rushed him back to the hotel—along with a seriously angry Matthias Dunstock.

I was still shocked that the whole thing had been a lie. I called Dad right after we got Matthias and Nikitin in custody, and he'd had no idea we thought we were on a mission. He believed our story about the essay competition—no wonder he'd seemed so good at “acting” surprised. He really had been surprised! As for Matthias, he remembered him as a good kid, and a brilliant agent, but a highly competitive one. In the end, his competitive side won out over his better nature. ATAC was taking him into special custody to try and rehabilitate him, but who knew what would happen.

The sun was setting, and Joe, George, and Thatcher were dragging over big logs to start a fire and barbecue. Katlyn and Thatcher were good friends, and he'd convinced her to join us. Turns out she was a lot of fun when she was off the job—though Joe still wasn't getting anywhere with her. She had brought out the hotel's portable stereo, and we were going to finally have the party on the beach that Nancy, George, and Bess had been hoping for all week.

“Wow,” I said as I sat down in front of the stone-lined fire pit, a little bit away from everyone else.

“What?” asked Nancy, who had plopped down in the sand next to me.

“Nothing. Just…wow. I can't believe an ATAC agent would do something like this.”

“What—do you guys believe anything just because it has ATAC's name on it? Isn't that kind of the opposite of what they teach you? To always be thinking for yourself?” She punched me lightly on the shoulder.

I blushed. Nancy had a point. And I wasn't good at being teased by girls. I changed the subject, fast.

“So what did Mr. Thorton say about Nikitin?” Nancy had been the one to explain everything to Mr. Thorton—leaving out the whole ATAC conspiracy part.

“Well, he wasn't involved in any of the violence, and it seems like Matthias took advantage of his desperation and concern about his family. But Mr. Thorton still
felt like he couldn't keep him on as manager, so he's demoted him to desk clerk. Mr. Thorton thinks he got as much punishment as he deserved by nearly dying in the swamp.”

“That was good of him.” Mr. Thorton really seemed to care about his workers. “And Petrovitch?” I asked.

“After Mr. Thorton let his brother off, Petrovitch was incredibly thankful. Mr. Thorton promoted him to be the head of the Wetlands Spa. And he's paying for him to take some anger-management lessons!”

“Hey, guys, guess what?” George had put down the firewood and was frantically clicking away on her cell phone. We all stopped what we were doing and looked up at her.

“Turn on the news on the radio, Thatcher!” she yelled.

Thatcher fiddled with the dials for a second before pulling up a news station. There was a blast of static, and then a voice cut through.

“For all of you just joining us, the reports you've heard are true. Singing sensation Jasmina has come out of her coma and is reported to be in stable condition! We'll have more details as they become available.”

We all cheered. Now it really was a perfect night at the beach.