snapped open the chute’s quick-release levers. He slipped out of the harness and fell like a stone.
Before he hit the water, Jake saw the Pitts veer sharply away from the collapsing chute. It headed directly toward Francesca’s school.
**
Francesca knew better than to hesitate when she received Jake’s mental warning. “Bradley,” she said as she raced over and pulled the red fire alarm on the wall. “Get the kids out of the building now!” She grabbed her cell phone from the desk, punched in 911, and rushed into the hallway. Sarafina was at her side.
With the phone clasped to her ear, Francesca shoved open the door to the next classroom. The startled teacher and children were lined up at the window. “Quickly,” Francesca shouted, her voice controlled but urgent. “Outside. Now . This is not a drill.”
Before she could elaborate, the emergency operator came on the line. “Nine-one-one. State the nature of your emergency.”
Francesca turned her back to the class. She cupped her hand over the phone. “I’m calling from the Hathaway Middle School. There’s a bomb in the building. This is real. Get here fast!” She snapped the phone closed, took Sarafina by the hand, and ran to the next classroom.
**
Jake’s head broke the surface of the water. He took a huge gasp of air, ripped off his leather helmet, kicked off his flight boots, and broke for the shoreline fifty yards away. He saw the Pitts circle toward the school.
Jake’s brain kicked his muscles into afterburner. The crests of the breaking waves in front of him seemed to suddenly move in slow motion. Licks of foam reached upward like rising oil in a lava lamp. A pair of surfers sat on their boards, their mouths agape as Jake sliced through the water. It must have looked to them like a fast-forward video of Michael Phelps at the 2008 Summer Olympics.
Jake embraced the changes that had occurred to his brain. A freak accident during an earthquake had caused the MRI scanner he was in to go haywire and send him into a seizure, giving him incredible mental and physical capabilities afterward. One of the most shocking changes was the ability to move very fast for short periods of time. Like the burst of strength a parent might find to lift a car to save their child, it seemed Jake was able to call upon that ability at will. The accident had also sent his terminal cancer into what he prayed was a permanent remission.
As soon as Jake’s knees scraped the sand, he peeled off his soggy socks and charged toward the rocky escarpment that hugged the coastline. The incline was steep. He scrambled upward on all fours as sharp-edged rocks cut into his feet. He ignored the pain, but the swim to shore had sapped his reserves. His heart raced like a machine gun. He couldn’t seem to draw enough air into his lungs to keep up with the demand for oxygen. A wave of dizziness assaulted him.
But he refused to slow. The ridgeline was just ahead. Jake pulled himself over the edge and pushed to his feet. He was at the edge of the hillside neighborhood that fronted the school. A quarter-mile to go. He looked up at the plane circling over the school. Jake knew in his gut that Tariq was watching him. Taunting him.
He sprinted toward the road, his bleeding feet slapping painfully against the concrete. The wings of the Pitts wagged in the universal sign of acknowledgment.
Then it dipped from view.
A moment later there was a huge explosion over the ridge. From his vantage point, Jake could see only the top edge of the fireball that rose over the rooftops in front of him. Chunks of debris spewed into the sky.
“Noooo!” Jake screamed.
Chapter 5
Hathaway Middle School
Malaga Cove, California
T he children had practiced the fire drill many times. By the time Francesca and Sarafina reached the third classroom, the rest of the doorways had opened. Children filed out just as they had been taught.
Once outside, Francesca urged the principal
Before he hit the water, Jake saw the Pitts veer sharply away from the collapsing chute. It headed directly toward Francesca’s school.
**
Francesca knew better than to hesitate when she received Jake’s mental warning. “Bradley,” she said as she raced over and pulled the red fire alarm on the wall. “Get the kids out of the building now!” She grabbed her cell phone from the desk, punched in 911, and rushed into the hallway. Sarafina was at her side.
With the phone clasped to her ear, Francesca shoved open the door to the next classroom. The startled teacher and children were lined up at the window. “Quickly,” Francesca shouted, her voice controlled but urgent. “Outside. Now . This is not a drill.”
Before she could elaborate, the emergency operator came on the line. “Nine-one-one. State the nature of your emergency.”
Francesca turned her back to the class. She cupped her hand over the phone. “I’m calling from the Hathaway Middle School. There’s a bomb in the building. This is real. Get here fast!” She snapped the phone closed, took Sarafina by the hand, and ran to the next classroom.
**
Jake’s head broke the surface of the water. He took a huge gasp of air, ripped off his leather helmet, kicked off his flight boots, and broke for the shoreline fifty yards away. He saw the Pitts circle toward the school.
Jake’s brain kicked his muscles into afterburner. The crests of the breaking waves in front of him seemed to suddenly move in slow motion. Licks of foam reached upward like rising oil in a lava lamp. A pair of surfers sat on their boards, their mouths agape as Jake sliced through the water. It must have looked to them like a fast-forward video of Michael Phelps at the 2008 Summer Olympics.
Jake embraced the changes that had occurred to his brain. A freak accident during an earthquake had caused the MRI scanner he was in to go haywire and send him into a seizure, giving him incredible mental and physical capabilities afterward. One of the most shocking changes was the ability to move very fast for short periods of time. Like the burst of strength a parent might find to lift a car to save their child, it seemed Jake was able to call upon that ability at will. The accident had also sent his terminal cancer into what he prayed was a permanent remission.
As soon as Jake’s knees scraped the sand, he peeled off his soggy socks and charged toward the rocky escarpment that hugged the coastline. The incline was steep. He scrambled upward on all fours as sharp-edged rocks cut into his feet. He ignored the pain, but the swim to shore had sapped his reserves. His heart raced like a machine gun. He couldn’t seem to draw enough air into his lungs to keep up with the demand for oxygen. A wave of dizziness assaulted him.
But he refused to slow. The ridgeline was just ahead. Jake pulled himself over the edge and pushed to his feet. He was at the edge of the hillside neighborhood that fronted the school. A quarter-mile to go. He looked up at the plane circling over the school. Jake knew in his gut that Tariq was watching him. Taunting him.
He sprinted toward the road, his bleeding feet slapping painfully against the concrete. The wings of the Pitts wagged in the universal sign of acknowledgment.
Then it dipped from view.
A moment later there was a huge explosion over the ridge. From his vantage point, Jake could see only the top edge of the fireball that rose over the rooftops in front of him. Chunks of debris spewed into the sky.
“Noooo!” Jake screamed.
Chapter 5
Hathaway Middle School
Malaga Cove, California
T he children had practiced the fire drill many times. By the time Francesca and Sarafina reached the third classroom, the rest of the doorways had opened. Children filed out just as they had been taught.
Once outside, Francesca urged the principal
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