Chapter Sixty-Four Time to Manticore Up
Iwhirl around just in time to see another huge wave crash down on the beach. It carries a bunch of students with it, only a few of whom manage to actually crawl up the beach before the wave drags the others back out to shore.
“Shit!” Jude takes off running back toward the water, and I’m right behind him—or as behind him as I can be when my exhausted body threatens to collapse with every step I take.
But people are dying, drowning just like I was, and I have to at least try to save them. Especially since Luis and the others might be out there.
Simon, thankfully, is already on it as he pulls a waterlogged Ember out of the sea. Each of the three versions of him is carrying a different version of her, all of whom he drops at our feet as he yells, “Take care of her!” before turning and racing back into the ocean.
“I lost Mozart!” Ember gasps before rolling over and coughing up a bunch of seawater.
“It’s okay,” I tell her even as my stomach drops. “She’ll be okay, right, Jude?”
But he looks as grim-faced as Ember does. “She can’t swim,” he tells me.
“What? How—”
I break off as Ember grabs onto Jude’s hand. “She was with me when the portal broke, but I lost her when we fell. I couldn’t hold on to her. I couldn’t—” She breaks off on a sob. “You have to find her, Jude!”
But he’s already gone, running straight into the ocean after Simon.
Terror clutches me, and I think about running after him. But I know if I do, he’ll just have to save me again. I’m better off helping here.
I wrap an arm around Ember and move her out of the reach of the waves that keep coming farther and farther up the beach.
Once I get her settled out of range, she brushes me off to go help the others.
Please let Luis be okay.
Please let Jude be okay.
Please let Mozart be okay.
The words are a desperate mantra in my head as I run to the first person I see—a banshee I had P.E. with our freshman year. I don’t remember much about her, except she was really great at dodgeball.
But right now, present her is lying face down in the sand, while past version wrings her hands just beyond the reach of the waves.
“Alina!” I call her name as I drop to my knees beside her, but she doesn’t respond.
I roll her over and try again. “Alina!”
Still nothing.
The rain is coming down in sheets, the wind whipping along the beach, making it impossible to see if she’s unconscious or—
I don’t even let myself think it—any more than I let myself think about there not being a future version of her hovering around—as I press a hand to her chest to see if she’s breathing. Several seconds pass and nothing happens, and horror fills me.
I call Alina’s name as I lean down and try to hear if there are any breath sounds at all coming from her, but the storm is too loud. Even if she was breathing, I wouldn’t be able to hear her.
My brain is telling me she’s dead, but I can’t leave her without at least trying to save her, so I start CPR as I desperately try to remember the health class I had to take sophomore year.
I recall the teacher saying we’re not supposed to do mouth-to-mouth anymore, just chest compressions—so I start with those. But I remember the textbook explaining that there were a few exceptions, and though I can’t swear by it, I’m pretty sure drowning was one of those exceptions.
But I don’t remember for sure, and I really don’t want to mess this up.
I look around for help, but there’s no one to ask. Everyone I see is either unconscious, dead, or trying to crawl their way up the beach. I really am on my own here.
Fuck it. I bend down and blow two breaths into her mouth. Maybe I can save her, maybe I can’t. But right now, she’s already gone. At least this gives her a chance.
I do a series of chest compressions, followed by two more breaths and more chest compressions. This time, water spews out of her mouth, which I take as a good sign and keep going.
Seconds later, Alina’s eyes fly open, and she comes up swinging, even as loud, hard coughs rack her slight form.
I fall back onto my butt just in time to dodge a fist. “It’s okay!” I shout at her as a particularly virulent gust of wind howls by us. “You’re okay.”
She freezes mid-punch, her eyes wide as she registers that I was actually helping her. Then she rolls onto her knees and starts bringing up a ton of water.
And just like that, a future version of her appears in front of me.
That more than anything else convinces me that she’s okay, so I don’t stick around. Instead, I stumble to my feet and move onto the next person—a male wolf I haven’t met before. He’s relatively new to the school, and he looks like an asshole, so I’ve always given him a wide berth.
But since he’s currently crawling up the beach and puking water everywhere, I race over to see if he’s okay. His subsequent growl—which is echoed by his past and future selves—has me backing up just as quickly. Apparently, he’s just fine.
I help a few more people—a leopard who is alive but too weak to crawl up the beach and a witch who was definitely not okay until I did CPR on her as well—before another major wave slams into the sand.
I run back up the beach to avoid getting caught in the undertow, but it grabs me anyway and starts pulling me backward. I fight my way through it, escaping just in time to see present Izzy staggering up the beach, her arm wrapped around an unconscious Remy’s chest. Their past and future selves hover nearby.
I run over to them and start to help her with Remy. But she just gives me an oh-please look and drags him several more feet before dumping him on the sand. “Is he breathing? Does he need CPR?” I ask.
“He’s fine,” she answers with a roll of her eyes. “He kept fighting me, so I knocked him out.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just nod. Then, even though I know it’s a ridiculous question, I can’t help asking, “Did you see…”
“Jude?” She shakes her head. “Honestly, I couldn’t see shit out there. It’s a damn miracle Remy found me. And by found me, I mean glommed on to me and thought he could help. As if.” She rolls her eyes.
“If you’re okay, I’m going to go see if anyone needs help,” I tell her.
Izzy waves a hand as she drops down onto the ground next to Remy’s still-unconscious form. “Go. I’ve got this.”
I spend the next I don’t know how long staggering up and down the beach, helping people and trying to find Luis. But I have absolutely no luck. I remember Jude saying my mom somehow made it to the other side of the portal in Huntsville, despite being the last one into it, and I keep praying that that’s where my best friend is as well.
He may not be any safer there than he has been for the last three years here at Calder Academy, but at least he’ll be alive. And right now, that’s all I can ask for.
It’s all any of us can ask for.
Please let Luis be okay.
Please let Jude be okay.
Please let Mozart be okay.
I start my mantra again, just as I trip over someone in the sand. I crouch down to see if I can help and realize it’s Mr. Abdullah, one of the witches who built the portal. One look and I know he’s dead. As is Ms. Picadilly.
A sob catches in my throat, but I swallow it down. I don’t even know them very well, so it makes no sense for me to be so upset. Except they were only trying to help. They stayed on that portal as long as they could and—
This is awful. This is really, really awful.
I run a hand over my eyes to wipe away the tears and the rain just as another wave pounds into the shore, bringing with it a ton more people.
I run to the first person I see. Because of the rain, I can’t see much more than a body at first. But as I get closer, things become a little clearer, and I can’t help gasping when I see her distinctive, bright-yellow hair.
It’s Ms. Aguilar, and she doesn’t look good. Neither does her future self, who is currently sitting on the sand hugging her knees to her chest—and getting fainter with each second that passes.
She’s all banged up, her formerly hot-pink sweatsuit ripped and soaked with blood from a wound I can’t currently see.
I call her name, but she’s totally nonresponsive—whether because she’s passed out or because she’s dead, I can’t tell. All I know is that I’m not going to leave her like this.
I grab her shoulder and roll her over, then almost wish I hadn’t. Because her skin is gray, her normal sparkle long gone. On the plus side, she’s still breathing, albeit shallowly. On the not-so-plus side, I can now see where the blood is coming from—a nasty-looking wound on the side of her head.
Panic fills me—I can do rudimentary CPR on a bunch of healthy people who stopped breathing due to drowning. But a head wound is way beyond anything I know about.
Still, I have to try. A quick glance out at the ocean tells me another wave is building—and this one looks even bigger than the last. Which means the first thing I need to do is get both of us out of the strike zone. With the last of my energy, I get her at least halfway up the beach. Then I drop to my knees beside her and start gently shaking her as I call her name. She doesn’t answer—big surprise—but I don’t know what else to do at this point.
I look around for help, but before I can find anyone, a loud sizzling sound fills the air around us. I glance up, expecting lightning to slam down on the beach any second. But instead, a very loud popping noise fills the air followed by…nothing.
Well, nothing except the continued roar of the storm.
I look around, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. And that’s when I notice that the lights on the top of the huge wall that blocks the beach from the rest of the school—the lights that I know were on just a little while ago because I used them to guide myself toward shore—are no longer lit. And, as I look more closely, I realize that several of the huge lightbulbs look like they’ve literally been blown apart.
I tell myself it’s not a big deal, that it’s just the lightning or something. But it’s hard to believe that when I look down and realize that the hands holding on to Ms. Aguilar’s shoulder—my hands—are suddenly paws.