 
### Wild Child

### a novel

### by

### Mike Wells

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Mike Wells

www.mikewellsbooks.com

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Praise for Mike Wells' Wild Child

5 STARS! "This was a well written story that hooked me from the first page. It moves with just enough of a quick pace that I couldn't stop reading it until the end. It begins quickly building into the story that you will not be able to stop reading until the end, trust me, it is great!"

5 STARS! "If you need a story to keep you company on a rainy afternoon, or during breaks at work or school this is one for you to grab. Mike forms a great story that lets your mind do the telling. Greatly thought out, well written, and excellently executed."

5 STARS! "Mike Wells has created a short, taunt page-turner. He is an economical author who knows how to engage the reader. Never a dull moment. Have fun!"

5 STARS! "I couldn't put it down it was that good. Love the characters and the suspense. I will highly recommend this book. I can't wait for the second part in Kindle."

5 STARS! "I don't want any 'spoilers' in this review, so I can't say a lot more, but let me just say that when you think you've figured out exactly where this is going, you're wrong. Very imaginative and fun read!"

5 STARS! "A riveting novel told in a point-blank writing style that is very direct with just the perfect amount of description."

5 STARS! "Wells has created a great world; developing characters and making us care for them in a very short time, and telling a complete story within that same margin."

5 STARS! "Mike Wells is a fantastic writer and really knows how to capture the reader's attention. The book was a short read and in the end, I was wanting more!"

5 STARS! "I read it in one sitting and couldn't even put it down to go to the bathroom. Well done Mike on another superb bit of storytelling. Thank you."

5 STARS! "Very well written and had me turning the pages. In fact, I read the whole thing in a few short hours."

5 STARS! "For a short read the author gives you just enough of everything, character build up, back story, and wow, what an ending!!!"

### Books by Mike Wells

Wild Child Series (Thriller)

Lust, Money & Murder (Crime/Thriller Series)

The Drive-By Wife (Crime Thriller Series)

Secrets of the Elusive Lover (Romance/True Story)

The Mysterious Disappearance of Kurt Kramer (Paranormal Romance)

The Wrong Side of the Tracks (Young Adult/Coming of Age)

Baby Talk (Horror)

The above titles are available in all popular ebook formats and most in audiobook format as well.

Visit the author website/blog at: http://www.mikewellsbooks.com
For my mother
Forward

How 3,000 Copies of Wild Child Found Their Way from the Trash Bin

to the Top of the Bestseller Lists

The story of how Wild Child was published is almost as wild as the story itself.

The idea for the book came to me in a dream. I started madly writing it down the next morning, and couldn't stop. In 40 days of frenzied typing at the keyboard, I finished the entire book.

The first literary agent I sent it to was Laura Rennert, at the Andrea Brown Literary Agency in Manhattan. She loved it. Laura sent it out to three of the biggest publishers. They loved it, too. I was thrilled—I had already found an agent and three publishers willing to buy it. My baby was about to be read by thousands, and perhaps millions, of people. It was a dream come true.

"But," she told me on the phone, "there's one problem with your book."

"What's that?" I said, my euphoria fading.

"It's too short. Can you add another fifteen thousand words?"

Fifteen thousand more words? I was dumbfounded. I didn't understand why I had to add 15,000 words to a book that seemed perfect as it was.

"It has to do with the cost of paper," Laura explained, "and retail price points, and so on. It's complicated."

I spent the next two months struggling to make Wild Child a longer book. Nothing about the process felt right to me, but I like most writers, I badly wanted to see it published. When I finally finished padding it with all the extra words, I gave the manuscript to all my friends and trusted readers to read again. "Mike," one of them said, "congratulations! You totally ruined a really great book."

Unfettered, I started packing up the manuscript to send to Laura. But at the last moment, I changed my mind. Why should I add 15,000 words to a book that seems perfect just as it is, just because of some rules about the cost of paper and cardboard boxes? Would an artist make a finished painting three inches bigger on all sides to make it fit into someone's frame? To hell with the big publishers, I thought—I'll publish Wild Child myself, in its original form.

I was living in Atlanta, Georgia, at the time. As I needed a book cover designed, I decided to hold a city-wide student art contest for the best cover illustration. After all, Wild Child was a story about young people, why not have young people come up with the cover picture? And the contest would drum up some publicity for the book.

The winning illustration came from a 17 year old at North Atlanta High School, a laid-back African American by the name of Seron Fuller. Everyone agreed that his amazing, magical illustration for Wild Child perfectly captured the main characters, Kyle and Brianna, and the overall feeling of the story.

I excitedly arranged for 3,000 copies of the book to be printed with Seron's cover illustration on the front, investing my own money in the project. Then, as fate would have it, my work situation changed. Within a week of the books being delivered to my apartment, I moved across the Atlantic, to Europe, to Riga, Latvia.

Printed books are heavy. I could only afford to take two boxes of Wild Child with me—200 books, total. I shipped the rest up to Nashville, to my parents' garage. My stepfather wasn't too happy about keeping them for me, as they took up a lot of space, but he grudgingly agreed to do it "for a while."

I settled in Latvia and began my job, teaching at a Latvian university. My wife is also a teacher was working at a local high school. One day she said, "Mike, I told our English teacher that you were a young adult writer and she wanted her students to read Wild Child. Can you spare a few copies?"

Why not? I thought. They're just sitting here in a box, collecting dust. So I gave five copies to my wife to pass along to the teacher. A few weeks later, the teacher asked for five more copies. And five more. Then an English teacher at another Latvian school became interested, and I gave out more copies. And the book began to spread.

In short, hundreds high school students in Latvia went crazy over Wild Child. I had soon given away half my copies to schools and libraries.

Meanwhile, my stepfather had contacted me several times, asking me when I was going to get all the damn books out of his garage. I investigated shipping them all to Latvia, but the cost was astronomical. Finally, backed into a corner, I said, "Just have them recycled, I don't know what else to do with them." It killed me to tell him this, but what choice did I have? None of my American friends wanted 28 huge boxes of books taking up spaces in their garages.

To add insult to injury, my stepfather called me back the next day. "Mike, it will cost two hundred dollars to have these books hauled off for recycling." Two hundred dollars! I had to pay to have my precious babies thrown into the trash!

I gritted my teeth and sent him the check.

More time passed. I soon had given away all 200 of the books I'd brought with me to Latvia. I sorely regretted having the others hauled away.

One day I ran into a student who had read Wild Child in his English class--he recognized me from my photo from the back cover of the book. He asked if I had any more copies. I told him, with pang in my heart, that no more copies existed.

"You're wrong," he said. "They're selling your book on Amazon."

I blinked once. "That's impossible," I told him. "All the copies I had in the United States were thrown in the trash."

He shrugged. "See for yourself."

Certain that he was mistaken, I went home and pulled up the Amazon website. Lo and behold, there it was. Wild Child, by Mike Wells. The book wasn't available from the company directly, but from a half dozen of their U.S. resellers.

Somebody had pulled all those copies out of the trash and started selling them!

Was this yet another sign that the book needs to be read? I certainly thought so.

Not long thereafter, I moved to the UK and started teaching in the University of Oxford Creative Writing Program. Last year I watched the explosion ebooks and reading devices. It seems like everywhere I went, someone was reading a book on one of those gadgets, or a tablet or smart phone or notebook computer.

I decided that Wild Child's time had finally come. Publishing the story as an ebook was perfect! Ebooks don't have any physical form—they can be as long or short as they need to be.

I converted Wild Child to ebook form for all the successful platforms. Book bloggers started reviewing it and the book has received great reviews. In July of 2011 it climbed to the #3 spot in its category the Kindle Books Bestsellers list.

I have also converted seven other of my unpublished novels to ebook format.

I have to say that I feel 100% better about myself now that I'm actually helping Wild Child find its way into the world.

Sometimes I think that Wild Child should have a subtitle:

The Book That Wouldn't Die.

I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 1

"Let's swim over to the cliffs," Briana said.

Kyle opened his eyes. The gentle rocking of the boat had almost lulled him to sleep. He looked across the water at the shore opposite them. The cliffs appeared to rise up out of the water like the back of some long, gray dinosaur. They were at least a half-mile swim from the boat, maybe more. Kyle said nothing and closed his eyes, hoping she might drop the idea.

After a few seconds, one of her tanned feet jabbed him in the side. "Come on, Kyle. Don't be a major snooze."

"I'm not being a snooze. I'm just not sure it's a good idea, that's all."

"Why not?"

"It's too far."

"No it's not. Not for a person who's in good shape, anyway."

Kyle sat up. "I'm in good shape," he said defensively. He gazed back at the dead-still expanse of water she wanted to swim across. It was a typical wild-ass Briana Fox idea, the type of thing that could get you killed. He groped for another excuse. "What if another boat comes along? They might not see us."

Briana laughed and pretended to choke on the beer she was sipping.

"Get real, Kyle," she said, motioning to the deserted lake with the beer can. "Who do you think's gonna come?" She finished off the beer and tossed the empty can into the stern of the boat, where it rattled around with the others. She looked back at Kyle and, raising one of her sun-bleached eyebrows, said, "I think you're chicken."

Kyle sighed. "I'm not chicken, Brie." He glanced up the lake towards the dam, then back in the other direction, where it split into a series of smaller and smaller coves. She was probably right about there not being any other boats around. It was a Tuesday and they had come out to the lake at noon, right after Kyle's last class had ended, and they hadn't seen a single boat since. Now, it was almost three, and it would be at least another couple of hours before the after-work fishing crowd began to arrive. But he didn't like her pushing him into going along with another one of her crazy stunts.

"We can't just leave the boat out here in the middle of the lake," he said. "If my dad found out, I'd be in big trouble."

"Your dad," she said with mock gravity, imitating Kyle's deep voice.

"That's right, Brie. It's his boat, not mine."

She considered this, then gazed past Kyle and out across the water. He could almost see the devious machinery turning behind her pale blue eyes. "We'll take the key with us. What could happen then?"

Kyle smiled and patted the sides of his swimsuit. "No pockets."

"I've got a pocket," she said. Her face took on a mischievous expression. She stood up and lowered one side of her bikini bottom, revealing a small pocket that was sewn into its mesh. In the process, she also revealed a lot of skin, which drew Kyle's eyes like a magnet. But he resisted the temptation to look. He had long grown tired of that routine.

Briana snapped her bathing suit back into place, clearly disappointed that he hadn't taken an eyeful. "So you're out of excuses," she said, holding out her hand for the boat key.

Kyle sighed and pulled the key out of the ignition. He knew this was one of those times that she wouldn't leave him alone until he gave in. Besides, if she could swim across, he could. He handed the key to her and she put it into her bikini pocket, turning her body to the side this time, as if he didn't deserve to see anything.

"Race ya!" she said, then dove into the water and started swimming. Kyle made a quick check of the boat's interior, making sure nothing valuable was in sight—both their cellphones were locked in the glove compartment—then dove in after her. By the time he started swimming, she was already twenty yards ahead of him, doing a hard American crawl. But he had no intention of "racing" her anywhere—he knew that for this particular journey, he had to swim at a steady pace and conserve energy for the long haul.

After a few strokes, he decided to roll over and swim on his back. As he kicked, he made a conscious effort to keep both his feet near the surface. It was only mid-September and the water was still relatively warm, but every now and then, he passed through a cold spot. This kept reminding him of how deep the lake was (ninety feet where they were swimming, according to the boat's depth finder), which in turn would remind him of all the decaying junk that was down at the bottom of it. Lake Carlton was a man-made body of water. The Army Corps of Engineers had dammed up the Stones River about thirty years before to both control flooding and generate hydroelectric power, and the resulting body of water covered acres and acres of developed farmland. Somewhere at the bottom of its murky depths lay algae-covered barns and rusting cattle fences and dilapidated cars, all of which made Kyle uneasy. It was like swimming over an underwater ghost town. Of course, the water was so deep that you wouldn't ever come into physical contact with any of it (in theory, anyway), but knowing it was all down there bothered him, just the same. And rumor had it that down at the very bottom, in the center of the main channel where the river had once been, there were catfish big enough to bite your leg off at the knee.

Briana yelled something and pulled Kyle out of his thoughts. He stopped swimming and spotted her. She was a good fifty yards ahead of him.

"What?" he called back.

"Can't you keep up?" she said, laughing.

"I'm not trying to keep up," he said irritably. He rolled over and started swimming his backstroke again, this time at a leisurely pace to emphasize his point. She loved proving again and again that she was the better swimmer—she had been doing it ever since they had taken scuba diving lessons together in the tenth grade, which was how they first met. The teacher had divided the class in half, and he and Briana had ended up becoming "breathing partners" and had learned to share a single air regulator, swapping the black rubber device between each other's mouths. At first they could hardly stand each other, but they soon became close friends, and later, lovers...almost.

Kyle heard another sound and he immediately stopped swimming. This time, it wasn't Briana yelling. It was a faint buzzing sound that you could not only hear, but feel a little bit in your throat. He knew it well. It was the sound a boat's propeller makes in the water. On weekends during the summer, you could always hear a whole chorus of them whenever your head was under water.

He spun around in a circle, scanning the lake. He saw nothing but his dad's ski boat, which was now about 100 yards behind him, and a lot of flat, still water. He let his ears dip under the waterline again.

bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

There was no doubt in his mind—a boat was somewhere nearby, maybe not within sight just yet, but close...

He spotted it. A speedboat, barely visible on the other side and to the left of his dad's ski boat. The sleek yellow and black craft was moving fast, zipping across the water, its bow sticking up aggressively.

He spun around towards Briana. "Brie!" he yelled. "There's a boat!"

She was swimming as mechanically as a robot and didn't seem to hear him.

"Brie!" he yelled again. "Brie!"

She just kept swimming.

The speedboat was rapidly approaching, and he spun back around towards it and started to wildly wave his hands. It was making a wide turn to the left side of his dad's boat. Two boys were standing behind the windshield, peering curiously at the abandoned ski boat, probably thinking the occupants were having sex, hoping to glimpse a little skin.

"Hey!" Kyle screamed, waving his arms, splashing. "Hey! Watch out! There's somebody out there! Heyyyyyyy!"

They didn't see or hear him. The boat seemed to streak across the water like a low-flying jet fighter. He mentally predicted its trajectory and his eyes widened—it appeared to be heading directly towards Briana.

"HEY! HEY! HEYYYYYY!" he yelled at the boat. But it did no good. He turned back towards Briana, hoping she might have heard his yelling or the sound of the propeller, but she was still swimming steadily towards the cliffs, oblivious to any possible danger. Kyle started swimming frantically towards her for a few seconds, then realized the futility of it. In that fleeting moment, he had never felt so helpless in his life. He began to scream again, this time at Briana. "BRIE! THERE'S A BOAT! THERE'S A BOAT COMING, THERE'S A BOAT!!! BRIEEEEEEEE!"

In the middle of his scream, she finally stopped swimming. She turned her head towards the oncoming boat. It was bearing down on her so fast it would hit her—or at least come close to hitting her—in a matter of two or three more seconds.

"DIVE!" Kyle screamed.

She either heard him or saw the boat coming, or perhaps both. Her head disappeared beneath the surface. Not more than a half-second later, the speedboat whipped across the water in what looked like exactly the same spot.

Kyle threw his hands over his face, uttering an agonized wail, afraid he would hear a thump or the sound of the motor wavering as the propeller made contact with...

But he heard nothing except the drone of the speedboat as it moved away from him.

"Please, no!" he said, his hands still over his face, treading water with only his legs. His stomach seemed to turn inside out. He slowly uncovered his eyes, afraid of what he would see.

There was the boat's wake. But Kyle could see nothing else.

"BRIE!" he yelled again, his voice cracking. He waited a few seconds, hoping to see her head surface somewhere around the wake, but he saw only the churned up water. He started swimming madly towards the spot where she had been, swimming the most intense American crawl he had ever swam in his life. When he finally neared the place where he thought he had seen her disappear, the sick feeling in his gut had turned into sheer horror—he was afraid he would bump into one of her severed limbs or... worse. He stopped swimming and looked around at the water, half-expecting to see blood or clumps of her yellow-blonde hair floating on the surface. But there was just lake water. He swam to the direct center of the wake, which was fading rapidly, and slowly swam around in a circle, looking for any sign of her.

Nothing.

After a few more seconds, the water became still and quiet as it had been a few moments earlier. Only there was no Briana.

Surely if she was hit, she would float to the surface, Kyle thought, as he treaded water. Wouldn't she? And if she wasn't hit, where is she?

He looked over towards the cliffs, wondering if she might be swimming in that direction, injured and disoriented. But there was nothing in sight save a few gently rolling waves from the wake of the speedboat. His arms and legs felt rubbery. He accidentally inhaled some water and started coughing. This isn't happening, he thought, coughing and choking. This can't be happening.

But it was definitely happening. And he knew that if he wasn't careful, he might drown. He had to get hold of himself—he had to think rationally and decide what to do next.

He decided it was best to swim on his back to help him remain calm and conserve energy. He made a U-turn and started swimming in the direction of the ski boat. Yes, that was the smart thing to do now. He would return to the boat and bring it back to look for her. If he didn't find her within a couple of minutes, he could go back to the marina and call...

The key.

"No!" he croaked up at the sky. Panicking, he rolled over, and started dog-paddling frantically, then checked himself and spun around onto his back again.

_Just stay calm_ , Kyle. _You have to go back to the boat or you'll drown._

Chapter 2

Ten long minutes later, Kyle dragged himself up the ski ladder attached to the boat's stern and collapsed on the carpeted deck, trembling and queasy. He lay there for a few seconds. The sky seemed to be spinning and spinning. He jumped back up and leaned over the starboard side of the boat. His lunch—a Big Mac and one of his dad's Bud Lights—gushed into the lake water.

"Brie," he uttered in a hoarse whisper, fighting tears. He thought he might fall apart right there in the middle of the lake. _Keep it together, Kyle. Keep moving. You have to get the boat started so you can look for her._

"Get the boat started," he repeated aloud. His voice sounded hollow and far away, like his ears were stuffed with cotton. He turned and blankly looked at the ignition switch on the dashboard. There were no tools on board now. Being a college professor, his father rarely found time to use the boat once school started and always took the toolbox home for the winter. But Kyle would have to make do.

He laid down on his back and wriggled around in front of the driver's seat until his head was positioned directly underneath the dashboard. The back of the ignition switch had three wires connected to it—red, black, and green. He wasn't sure which was which, and he didn't have time to find out. He would just yank all three of them free and try different combinations until the engine turned over.

Just as he took hold of the red wire, there was a thump from somewhere underneath the boat.

He froze.

It sounded like something had bumped against the boat's hull, not far from his head. He stayed still for a few seconds, but heard nothing more. He started to yank the red wire loose, but stopped again. He thought he heard another thump.

Then another.

There was definitely something moving around underneath the boat.

Probably just a fish...

He lay there for a few more seconds, completely motionless, listening. He heard the unmistakable sound of the ski ladder banging against the stern. Somebody was pulling down the ladder.

It had to be Briana.

He swallowed. Didn't it?

He slid out from under the dashboard and sat upright, his eyes wide, watching the stern of the boat.

There was a splash.

"Brie?" he said in a hush. He swallowed again, terrified of what he might see.

There was another splash. The boat rocked towards the back, the way it did when someone grabbed hold of the ladder and started climbing. His eyes grew wider and wider.

"Hi!" Briana said, climbing up onto the stern. She hopped down onto the deck, grinning at him, water pouring off of her.

He slowly rose to his feet, staring at her with a combination of shock and disbelief. There was a dark green smear of algae on her right shoulder, and a string of some kind of slimy aquatic plant was tangled in her hair.

"Oh," she said, wiping at the algae. "I'm kind of a mess, aren't I?"

His eyes were drawn down to her stomach. There was a puffy white line across her midsection, snaking its way from her belly button up to an inch or so under her right breast. It looked like a deep surgical scar, only without the white dots or crisscrossing marks from stitches.

She looked down at it. "Isn't that incredible?"

"What...what happened?"

"I was totally torn open, Kyle—icky stuff was hanging out everywhere! That green water is _unbelievable_. You've got to see it!" She started jumping up and down, rocking the boat back and forth. "You've got to see it, Kyle!"

"Brie, what hap—"

"I'm so _strong_ ," she said, making a muscle with her right arm. "It's like instant steroids, or something!" She giggled and spun around like a little girl. As she did, Kyle caught sight of the back of her left leg and gasped. There was an ugly gash in her thigh, maybe five inches long. A clump of shredded red meat protruded from it, with pink, watery-looking blood oozing out of it and down her calf.

"Your leg," he said, almost in a whisper.

She turned to see what he was looking at. "Oh, I didn't notice that." She looked back at him and grinned sheepishly, as if she had a run in her pantyhose. "But don't worry. The green water will fix it, too."

All at once, Kyle understood everything. The poor girl was obviously suffering from severe shock. It was a miracle she was even alive. He tried to remember what you were supposed to do for a shock victim.

"Brie, you better lie down for a—"

"I'm fine!" she said, bouncing back up onto the stern. "You've got to come with me and see it! You won't believe it!"

He noticed that her eyes seemed to have a strange green tint in them. He looked down at the gash in her leg again and tried not to show any reaction, afraid that it might upset her. But it looked bad, really bad. The tendons appeared to be cleanly severed. He couldn't understand how she could even walk.

"Brie, honey, you have to lie down. Do you still have the boat key?"

She ignored him and grabbed a plastic water bottle that was in a cup holder mounted to the stern. "Come on!" Before he could stop her, she leaped off the boat and back into the water.

Kyle rushed over the starboard side almost fell overboard. "Brie...what are you doing...you have to get back in the boat!"

"No, you have to come with me!" she said, kicking and splashing. "I feel wonderful! It's like the best drug you ever imagined, only even better!"

"You shouldn't be in the water," he said, trying to figure out how to deal with her.

"You're wrong, Kyle. Look how strong I am!"

She swam over to the boat, not using her arms, but undulating her body like a fish. She started rocking the boat back and forth. Kyle lost his balance and almost fell overboard again, grabbing hold of the top of the hull to support himself.

"Stop it!" he yelled. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing!" she answered gleefully. "Watch this!"

She started swimming around the boat in a circle with amazing speed, thrashing up water every now and then. If he hadn't been watching her with his own eyes, he would have thought she was a porpoise or a big shark. She must have been having some kind of bizarre shock reaction—that was the only explanation. He remembered reading about a 70 year old man who, after being seriously injured in a traffic accident, had lifted the back of his Cadillac off his son.

Kyle watched her make another circle around the boat, then decided he had no choice but to get her out of the water himself. He started to jump overboard, then thought better of it and retrieved a life jacket out of a storage compartment, not letting her out of his sight. He slipped his arm through one side of the jacket and jumped in.

He expected her to resist, but she immediately swam—or thrashed—her way over to him.

"Come on, let's go!" she said.

Kyle took her by the wrist as gently as he could. "Now, Brie, I want you to just calm down and put on this life jacket."

"Oh, don't be such a major snooze!" She jerked her wrist free from his grip. The next thing he knew, she had grabbed _him_ by the wrist. Her fingers felt like steel. "Hold your breath!"

Before he could respond, she yanked him under the surface. Water roared past his ears and the life jacket was torn from his hand. He hadn't even had a chance to close his mouth, and he inhaled some water. He coughed a few times, dazed and dimly aware that he was being dragged rapidly towards the bottom of the lake. The water was getting colder, and even though his eyes were squeezed shut, he could tell it was getting darker and darker as well. He opened his mouth to scream, inhaled more water and started coughing again. His ears felt like two ice picks had been shoved into them, and he made an effort to equalize the pressure, but it was changing too fast. He felt their direction shift and realized that they had turned around and were now moving back up towards the surface. No, they were _rocketing_ towards the surface. A few seconds later they both shot out of the water, a good ten feet into the air, and splashed back down.

Kyle spat up water, coughing. He did a double-take when he saw the boat and the life jacket—they were now at least 100 yards away.

"You better hold your breath this time, okay?" Briana said.

Kyle coughed again, staring at her.

"Hold your breath, Kyle."

"But—"

Her grip on his wrist tightened again, and he decided that he had better do as he was told. He sucked in a big breath of air. The next thing he knew, they were shooting downward again. This time, they moved at what seemed like a 45 degree angle, what he thought to be the direction of the cliffs. He kept his eyes shut.

_What's happening to me?_ he thought helplessly. _Am I dreaming?_ He wondered if he was the one who had been hit by the speedboat. Maybe he was lying face-down in water, unconscious, having some kind of crazy death-dream. But the roar of the water in his ears, the icy-coldness of the water, and Briana's iron grip told him that if it was a dream, it was the most vivid one he had ever had in his life.

They started to slow down. It seemed almost pitch black now, but he still didn't dare open his eyes. He desperately tried not to think about the flooded farmland and the catfish that might be lurking nearby.

They leveled off and were moving a little slower. He had been so scared he hadn't even had time to think about holding his breath during their descent, but now, his lungs were beginning to hurt. She slowed them both down to almost a stop. Something that felt like a tentacle brushed against his legs. He jerked himself away from it, terrified. Then his foot touched a rock. They were definitely at the very bottom of the lake. She grabbed both his arms and guided him along some larger rocks—she seemed to be leading him through some kind of gap or hole. He opened his eyes a crack but immediately shut them again. It was pitch black.

His lungs felt like they were going to explode. She began pulling him faster. They started moving upwards again, more and more rapidly, but it was still pitch dark. The pain in his chest was so severe he knew he could only last a few more seconds before he opened his mouth and filled his lungs with water, with _anything_.

They finally splashed to the surface. He sucked in a huge breath of air, gasping.

She let go of him and waited while he gasped and choked.

"Open your eyes," she said.

He was still hungrily sucking in air, wheezing.

"Open your eyes, Kyle."

He was afraid of what he would see, but he slowly raised his lids.

The first thing that came into focus was her silhouette, bathed in a weird greenish light. He looked around. They were inside a cave. He could vaguely make out stalactites that grew downward from the ceiling, and there were a lot of dripping sounds. The green light seemed to be coming from somewhere behind her. He could also hear the trickling and murmuring of running water, like a creek.

"Come on," she said, taking his wrist again.

"Where are we?"

"I think we're under the cliffs."

"Under the cliffs?" he repeated, partly to stall for more time.

She pulled him through the water against his will. His feet brushed some slimy-feeling rocks. "Be careful," she said. "It's slick."

She climbed out of the water onto a rock ledge, then helped Kyle onto it. He was amazed to see that the plastic water bottle she had taken from the boat was still in her left hand.

She took his wrist and led him along the rocks. Kyle shivered – the temperature couldn't have been more than 50 degrees.

"It's a lot warmer in there," she said.

"In where?" Kyle asked weakly.

She didn't answer. She led him up a huge, sloping boulder about the size of a tractor-trailer rig, then down the other side of it. They walked across some dry, flat rocks and stopped at an arch-like opening, flanked by a series of green and yellow stalactites and stalagmites, some of which had joined together. The green light was coming from whatever was on the other side of the opening. The sound of the murmuring water was louder now.

She stepped over to the archway and waited for him. He just stood there.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Kyle."

He watched her for a few seconds, then reluctantly made his way across the rocks and joined her. She took him by the hand, smiling, and led him through the archway.

They entered another larger, open space. In the center was a shimmering green pool that was fed by a stream. Kyle let out a hushed, awe-struck gasp. The pool was surrounded by gigantic, exotic-looking plants—orange and black flowers, similar to tulips, yet two or three feet in diameter; huge vines that looked something like morning glories, except the petals glowed an eerie effervescent green; a tree with electric blue leaves the size of elephant ears.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she said, leading him through the plants and over to the pool.

Kyle was so overwhelmed by what his eyes were taking in he could hardly speak. "How did you find this place?"

"That's the weirdest part, Kyle. I don't know, exactly. When the boat hit me, I blacked out. When I woke up I was halfway to the bottom of the lake. I just started swimming in this direction, like I already knew it was here." She paused. "Don't you feel it?"

"Feel what?" Kyle said, though he thought he knew what she was talking about. There was a strange magnetism to it all, some kind of pull or attraction. He suddenly had the urge to jump into the pool and dance in it, drink the green water, cry out with joy.

"You don't feel it?" she said, looking disappointed. "The _power_ of it?"

Kyle didn't answer. He had just realized that the strange green light was coming from within the water itself. The plants sucked it up and it made them glow, too. He remembered the green tint that he had seen in Briana's eyes. He looked back at her, but she started climbing through the plants before he could look into her eyes again.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

"Follow me," she said, wading into the pool of glowing water. "It feels absolutely incredible!" She squatted into the effervescent liquid and started splashing it all over her body, her eyes closed, as if in ecstasy. Then she fell to her knees and cupped a handful of water to her lips.

"I don't think you should—" Kyle began, but she paid no attention. She thirstily lapped it up, one scoop after the other. His throat began to feel parched. He took a step towards her, but hesitated.

Don't do it, Kyle. Don't drink one drop of that stuff. And don't let it touch you!

Briana looked up at him, the glowing water running down her chin like lime Gatorade. "Come on, Kyle. You have to try it! It'll make you feel like you can do anything!"

"I don't want to try it," he said.

"Come on, Kyle. It'll make you feel fantastic."

Kyle said nothing, feeling like a coward. But he wasn't about to touch the stuff, let alone drink it.

Briana sighed. "Once a major snooze, always a major snooze." She lapped up some more of it.

He picked his way through the thick vegetation and stood at the edge of the pool, careful not to let even a toe make contact with the eerie-looking water, or whatever the substance was. He watched her for a moment, then said, "You're crazy to drink that, Brie."

"Why?"

"You don't know what's in it."

"I know that it saved my life." She stood up and waded towards him until she was only knee-deep in the water. "Watch this." She started scooping it up and splashing it on the gash in the back of her thigh. The wound didn't look as bad as it had earlier. He wondered if it was just the dim green light. But after a few seconds, he could see that it had actually begun to close. He blinked, almost unable to believe his eyes—it was like one of those time-lapsed films of a blooming flower. She kept scooping the water up, running her hand over the wound, stroking it. With each pass, it looked a little better. But it wasn't just closing, it was _healing_ , right before his eyes, going through a process which would normally have taken months. After a couple of minutes, it had been reduced to nothing more than a white scar, like the one on her stomach.

Kyle was speechless.

She looked up at him and smiled, that unsettling green light in her eyes. "I think the scar will go away completely if I keep washing it." She began to work with the scar on her stomach, smoothing the water over it the way one might sand a piece of furniture. Little pieces of skin rolled off and fell away like a peeling sunburn. The scar faded until it was almost invisible.

"Isn't it awesome?" she said.

Kyle was awed, bewildered, and very afraid. "I think we should leave."

She watched him patiently, still washing the water over herself. "You don't know what you're missing, Kyle. This is the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me."

"Brie, I'm...I'm glad you're okay. That's all that matters to me. Now can we go? Please?"

She sighed and gazed dreamily at the pool, as if it were heaven itself. "All right. But you really should drink some of this. If you don't, you'll have to hold your breath again."

Kyle didn't immediately understand, but then he realized what she meant. "You mean you can—"

"—breathe under water, just like a fish," she finished. "I know it's hard to believe. But watch." She dove headlong into the water. A few seconds later she surfaced, expelling a gush of the green water from her lungs like a whale clearing its blowhole.

Kyle was speechless.

She laughed and waded back over to the side of the pool. She picked up the plastic bottle and filled it with the water. The bottle glowed green, like everything else around them. She waded back out, the strange green hue now very bright in her eyes, and kissed him on the shoulder.

"Come on, Major," she said, and she led him back the way they had come.

Chapter 3

Kyle sat slumped in the boat's passenger seat, in a daze, while Briana drove back to the marina. He kept looking at the water bottle, then back at her, trying to make some sense out of what had happened.

As they approached the marina, Kyle snapped part-way out of his stupor and decided to take the wheel himself. He trusted her to drive around the lake, but not where she could do any damage. The summer before, she had driven the boat too close to some rocks and had broken the propeller, which was one of many reasons Kyle's father didn't want him out on the lake with her. Of course, Kyle had lied to his dad and said that he had been driving the boat, but Kyle Senior seemed to have a sixth sense about that kind of thing.

Kyle pulled the throttle back to a fast idle and they glided past the rows and rows of sailboats that lined the left side of the cove. She picked up the water bottle and peered at it, turning it this way and that. "I think it's losing its glow. Don't you?" She held the bottle out to him.

"I don't know," he said, barely glancing at it. He was so upset and confused that he couldn't seem to think at all.

They soon reached the dock and he turned off the engine. Kyle stepped off the boat to tie it up.

"I feel _greeeeat_!" Briana yelled.

It was so loud and unexpected that Kyle almost fell into the water. Several fishermen who were launching a bass boat turned and looked in their direction.

"Shhh!" Kyle hissed at her. "What's the matter with you?"

"But I do feel great, Kyle. If I knew who ran me over, I'd kiss them for it."

Kyle wondered when the euphoric effects of whatever was in the water would wear off.

She picked up the bottle and inspected it again. "It's definitely losing its glow," she said, with obvious disappointment. She flipped the top up and sniffed it, then crinkled up her nose and held it out to Kyle. "Smell."

He cautiously leaned over and took a whiff. He almost gagged—it smelled vaguely like rotten eggs.

"I better pour it out," she said.

"No," he said, glancing over at the fishermen. For all he knew, it might froth up the water or turn the whole lake green. "Put it in the cooler and we'll dump it later."

She snapped the lid back in place and did as he told her. After they got the boat tidied up, they carried the cooler and life jackets over to his jeep and got ready to leave. When Kyle started the engine, Briana said, "I can't wait to tell Tanya about this."

He immediately turned the engine off. "You're not telling Tanya anything, Brie."

"Why not?"

"Because nobody in their right mind will believe you. I want to forget this whole thing ever happened. You seem to be all right, and that's all that matters. Okay?"

"I'm not going to just forget it! How can you say that? I want to take someone else back there tomorrow, someone who'll appreciate it."

Kyle felt himself becoming angry. "You're not taking anybody back here..." A couple of little boys carrying bamboo fishing rods walked in front of the jeep and eyed them curiously. Kyle waited until they were well out of earshot before he continued. "Look, Brie...I don't know—or even understand—what happened here today. What I do know is that if my father finds out about it, I'm in deep trouble. I'm not even supposed to be hanging around with you, let alone taking you out on his boat."

"Thanks a lot," Briana said, crossing her arms.

"Well, I can't help how he feels about you."

"Maybe not, but you don't have to let him run your life."

"I don't let him run my life."

"Coulda fooled me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means. You could have gone away to college with me, but you're staying here because of Daddy."

"No I'm not. I'm staying here because I can go to school for free, because he works there."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, really."

She rolled her eyes, then looked away. "Well, I think there's another reason."

"What's that?" Kyle asked, feeling a little uneasy.

"To get away from me."

Kyle felt a sharp pain in the pit of his stomach. In a way, she was right. It may not have been the only reason he had decided to stay in town to go to college, but it was certainly one of them. He had been pretty wild himself when he had met her back in the tenth grade. But over the last couple of years, he had mellowed a lot. Not that he was conservative like his father, but he had begun to be concerned about his future—he didn't want to end up working in a McDonald's or a Walmart the rest of his life. Briana didn't seem to be concerned about anything but having a good time from one moment to the next.

But of course, he couldn't tell her this. Instead, he searched for something to say to her that wouldn't hurt her feelings, but was still honest.

"You're my best friend, Brie. You know that."

She eyed him warily. "If that's true, then how come we never do what I want to do?"

"What are you talking about?" I brought you out here on the boat, didn't I? Even when I'm not supposed to."

"Yeah. But you wouldn't drink the green water."

Kyle shrugged. "You're right. I wouldn't."

"Well?"

"Well what? I'm not going to just drink anything anybody shoves in my face."

"But look what it did for me," she said, pointing to the scar on her stomach. By now, it was only a vague, pencil-thin white line that could have been nothing more than a well-healed cat scratch.

"I see that, but there's no reason I should drink it. There's nothing wrong with me."

"That's not the point!" she said with exasperation. "It's how it makes you _feel_ , Kyle. It's what it makes you able to _do_." She looked out the window, as if searching for something to convince him. "Remember when we did the coke?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Remember how you said you felt like you were so powerful you could do anything?"

"Yeah. I didn't like it."

"Ha! You wanted to buy some more the very next day!"

"That's right. That's exactly why I didn't like it."

"Well, this is different. It's not addictive, and it doesn't make you feel bad afterwards. It's good for you."

"Oh, really? And how do you know that?"

"I just know, that's all. It's healthy. It's natural." She nodded to her scar again. "How could something bad for you do that?"

She had a point, he had to admit. And there was a part of him that was tempted to try it. He turned and glanced at the cooler, where they had put the water bottle.

"I've got an idea," he said.

"What?"

"I could get my dad to take it to school and have it tested. We could find out what's in it."

"Who cares what's in it?"

"I care. I'm not touching the stuff unless I know what the 'active ingredient' is."

"I'll bet there isn't any active ingredient. I think it's just water. _Wonderful_ water."

"You could be right."

"Well, if I am, will you drink it, too?"

Kyle hesitated. "Maybe."

She rolled her eyes. "Major Snooze. No, I'm giving you a promotion for that one. Colonel Snooze."

Kyle ignored her and started up the jeep. They drove for a few minutes in silence.

"Damn it," Kyle muttered.

"What?"

"We left our phones on the boat."

Briana shrugged. "I don't care." She turned and looked at the cooler. "Where are you going to tell your dad you got that stuff? I don't want a bunch of nerdy professors to mess up our secret."

"I don't know," Kyle said. "But I'll think of something."

Chapter 4

When Kyle got home, he found Kyle Senior sitting at the kitchen table, absorbed in one of his engineering journals. That's how he always thought of his father—Dr. Kyle Dunlap, Senior, big-shot university professor. Kyle was only Kyle Dunlap, Jr.

Kyle set the cooler down by the sink.

"How was school today?" Kyle Senior asked, without looking up.

"Fine." Kyle opened the cooler and dumped out the melting ice, keeping the plastic water bottle out of his father's line of sight.

"How'd the boat do?"

"Fine," Kyle repeated.

"How was the beer you stole from the refrigerator?"

Kyle started to answer "fine" automatically, but stopped with his mouth half-open. His face flushed.

Kyle Senior put down the journal. "It's all right, Kyle. I'm not mad. But I don't like the idea of you operating the boat while you're drinking."

"I just had one, Dad."

He peered at Kyle over the top of his reading glasses. "Honest?"

"Yeah. Daniel had two, but he didn't drive the boat."

His father looked skeptical. "You didn't ski today?"

"No."

"On a great day like this was? I'll bet the water was smooth as glass out there."

"It was," Kyle said, remembering how the lake had looked before he and Briana had taken their fateful swim.

"Well, if you didn't ski, what did you do?"

"Nothing," Kyle said, with a shrug. "Just laid around a while and swam a little. I wasn't in the mood to ski."

Kyle Senior looked his son over more closely. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine, Dad," Kyle said, turning his back towards the sink.

"You look like you might be a little shaken up or something."

"I'm fine," Kyle repeated. "I might have gotten a little too much sun, that's all."

"You don't look burned."

Kyle simply shrugged again. He wasn't surprised that his father had noticed something amiss—he had that spacey, washed-out feeling you get from staying up all night studying for a test, only this was a lot worse. He tried not to think about what had happened on the lake. It seemed so unreal. He turned on the water and started rinsing out the cooler, aware of his father's eyes still on him. After a long moment, he finally heard the pages of the journal turning again.

Kyle pulled out the plastic bottle, still keeping it out of his father's sight. Now, the water looked completely ordinary—there was no glow whatsoever. He snapped the top open and carefully inhaled. To his surprise, he could only faintly smell the previously intense rotten odor.

He turned to face his father again. "Dad?"

"Yes," Kyle Senior said absently, looking up from his journal.

"I was wondering if you could have this water checked at school."

Kyle's father looked surprised. "Why? What's the matter with it?"

"I don't know if anything's the matter with it. It's from a spring out by the lake that some of the kids are drinking from, and I didn't want to drink any unless I knew it was okay."

Kyle Senior smiled. "That's smart, son," he said, getting _that I must have done something right look_ that parents get from time to time. "I'll give it to Hal Litchfield over in chemistry in the morning. Set it by the front door so I won't forget it."

Chapter 5

The next day, Kyle got home from school around 3:30—his MWF class, honors calculus, ended at three. He climbed out of his jeep, carrying his backpack full of books over his shoulder, and walked up the sidewalk.

He stopped abruptly when he reached the porch steps. Briana was sitting on the swing, rocking slowly back and forth. She was barefoot, as usual, and had on some worn jeans and a faded orange State T-shirt. There were circles under her eyes, and she looked pale.

"What's the matter?" he said. His heart was already thumping hard. While he was at school, he had managed to hold the troubling events of the day before at bay, but now they all came rushing back at him.

She looked down at his hands. "Where's the water?" she said. Her voice was weak and thin.

"Why? What's wrong, Brie?"

"I think it's wearing off." She slowly reached down and raised her T-shirt, her lower lip trembling.

Kyle gasped. The faded white line on her stomach was now a deep, snarling rut, oozing with yellow-green pus.

"The other one's just as bad," she said. She grimaced as she turned sideways so he could see the back of her leg. There was a dark wet spot on her jeans, over the middle of her thigh, where the gash had been the day before.

Kyle swallowed.

"You have to take me back to the lake," she said.

"What?" Kyle said.

"You have to, Kyle. I'm afraid if I don't, I'll..."

"You have to go to a hospital right now, Brie."

"I'm not going to a hospital," she said, with a firm shake of her head. "There's nothing they can do for me."

"Yes there is. They can sew you up."

"No, Kyle, it won't work."

"What do you mean it won't work? Why not?"

"It just won't. I know it, Kyle." She stood up, wobbling a bit. "I have to get more of the green water. It's the only way."

He watched her for a moment, not knowing what to do. "How can you get more of it? You can't swim down there now."

"Why not?"

"Because you..." He started to say that she looked terrible, but checked himself. She was already frightened enough as it was. "You don't look as strong as you did yesterday."

"I can do it," she said confidently. "I'm in better shape than when I did it the first time." She motioned to her stomach. "I told you, my insides were hanging out. My intestines were..."

"I believe you," Kyle said quickly. He tried to think of some way to coax her into getting medical attention, but he didn't know what else to say. "Go wait in the jeep and I'll get the key to the boat," he finally told her.

She nodded, looking hopeful, and climbed down off the porch, using the railing to steady herself. He tried to help her, but she pushed him away. He watched her struggle down the sidewalk, then went inside the house. When he walked through the living room, he glanced through the front window and saw her climbing into the jeep, hunched over to one side and holding her stomach like an elderly woman. This was crazy.

He hesitated on the stairs, debating about what to do. Maybe she would come to her senses if he talked to her a little more.

He went upstairs and headed down the hallway towards his dad's bedroom, where the key to the boat was. He stopped when he saw that his own bedroom door was shut. There was a note taped to it. Kyle stepped over to the door and read it.

Kyle,

I came home at lunch and thought I might find you here. Why aren't you answering your phone? I've left you three texts and a voicemail. It's extremely important that none of your friends drink any more of that water. I had it analyzed this morning and it might be very harmful. I don't have time to explain now. Wait here for me until I get home.

Dad

Kyle read it again, and this time his eyes stopped on the last line. He stood there for a moment, vacillating, and then decided to ignore it. He would simply pretend he hadn't seen it.

He continued on to his father's bedroom and opened the top dresser drawer. When he reached into the left-hand corner where the boat key was supposed to be, he stopped short.

It wasn't there.

He pulled the drawer out farther and frantically searched through the old watches and sunglasses and other odds and ends, but he knew the key was gone as soon as he had seen the empty corner—he had put it there himself the night before.

He slammed the drawer shut, cursing under his breath _. My father doesn't even trust me_ , he thought.

Whatever guilt Kyle felt about disobeying the note vanished. He trotted down the stairs and out to the garage. His dad's tool chest was sitting on the floor, next to the workbench. Kyle grabbed it and headed out the door and down the driveway.

When he climbed into the jeep, Briana noticed that he was upset.

"What's wrong, Kyle?"

"My jerk father took the key to the boat."

"Why? Does he know I was with you yesterday?"

"No, I don't think so. I don't know why he took it. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I can hot-wire the boat."

"You don't need to do that," she said, as he backed the jeep down the driveway.

"Why not?"

"If you take me to the boat ramp, I can swim to the cave from there."

Kyle glanced at her as he pulled out into the street. He could have laughed, if she hadn't been so pitiful. The way she looked right now, he doubted she could swim across the shallow end of a pool, let alone the half-mile or so she was talking about.

"I can do it, Kyle."

He just nodded and kept driving.
Chapter 6

Two hours later, Kyle was sitting on a boulder at the edge of the lake, about a twenty minute hike from the marina. Briana's rolled-up jeans and T-shirt were tightly clutched in his hands.

He was almost sure she had drowned. She had been gone over an hour and he hadn't seen the slightest sign of her, not even a ripple on the water. Save for a lone fisherman that had trolled by in a bass boat a few minutes before, the lake was just as deserted and still as it had been the day before.

He was racked with guilt for letting her go. He had argued with her against it for most of the 25 minute ride over to the lake. But the more he tried to convince her to let him take her to a hospital, the more resolved she became in her belief that the only thing that could help her was more of the green water. She was so persuasive he was beginning to believe it himself, even though a part of him told him that it was crazy. But the closer they had gotten to the lake, the more energy she seemed to have, and by the time they parked by the boat ramp, she seemed to be completely unaware of her dire physical condition. She threw the door open and started running along the shore so fast that Kyle had trouble keeping up with her. She finally stopped, stripped down to her bra and panties, and dove into the water, ignoring his protests and reassuring him that she would be back "soon."

Kyle gazed out at the flat lake water, now angry at himself for not being stronger. There was little doubt in his mind that she had drowned within seconds of entering the water.

_You thought she was dead yesterday, too_ , some part of himself said.

This thought gave him little solace. He stared at the glassy water, waiting and waiting, becoming more and more certain that she wasn't coming back. The fisherman started up his motor, trolled twenty feet or so in Kyle's direction, then shut it off again. He gave a friendly wave and Kyle waved back.

A moment later, Kyle saw ripples in the water some fifty yards out. The fisherman noticed it, too, and stood up, shading his eyes.

Briana shot up out of the lake like she had been fired from an underwater cannon. She flew a good ten feet into the air, then came back down gracefully, with her feet together, her toes pointing downward, as if she had just jumped off a diving board. When she surfaced again, she flung her long blonde hair to one side with such force it sent spray almost all the way to the shore.

"Yes!" she screamed, thrashing her way towards him. She swam so forcefully that she looked like she was running across the surface of the water on all fours. The fisherman's mouth dropped open and his rod tumbled into the water.

Kyle stood up as she approached.

"I made it!" she cried. She was still wearing her panties and bra. Kyle cocked his head towards the fisherman, whom he didn't think she had noticed. She looked over at the man and gave him a dainty little wave. "Hi!"

The fisherman's mouth was still unhinged. He slowly lowered himself back down into his seat, staring at Briana as if she had emerged from a space ship.

She skipped lightly across the slick rocks, as if on air, and gave Kyle a quick kiss on the cheek.

He handed the clothes to her. "Hurry up," he whispered, eyeing the fisherman. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Chapter 7

After they got back to the jeep, Briana raised her T-shirt to inspect the scar. It looked like it had the day before when she had treated it with the green water—just a faint white line.

"I'm sorry I was gone so long," she said, "but I really wanted to work on this and see how far I could go with it. I figured out that the reason the scar won't go away completely is because it has to be tanned again. I guess it's new skin or something."

"That makes sense." Kyle glanced at her, and saw that her hair was still wet. "Are you cold? I should have brought a towel."

"No, I feel great!" she said, rubbing her fingers vigorously through her hair. "When you drink the green water, you're never too cold or too hot, or lonely or sad or anything. Everything's perfect." She looked over at him with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"I'm not going to drink it, Brie," he said firmly. "At least not until I find out what's in it." He wondered what would happen if you drank it when nothing was wrong with you. Would it just make you feel good for a while and then wear off? Or was it addictive, like cocaine? It seemed to Kyle that everything in life was in balance. If you pushed the scales one way, they had to tip the other way to compensate. There's no free lunch, as his father liked to say.

Briana watched him for a moment and then looked back out her window. "You don't know what you're missing, Kyle."

"Maybe you're right," Kyle said. While Kyle drove, he was deep in thought, trying to grapple with the future. Briana's future. So, the green water had saved her again today. But what about tomorrow? And the next day? And the next? What was she going to do, just keep coming back to the lake and swimming down to the bottom for her green-water fix, like some sort of aquatic vampire? And what about school? She was supposed to leave for State in another week. It was a three-hour drive away. What was she going to do then?

He glanced over at her, wondering if she had considered any of this. There was a peaceful smile on her face, her hair blowing in the wind. She seemed to have not a trouble in the world.

Chapter 8

After Kyle dropped Briana off at her house, he headed home. When he pulled into the driveway his father immediately stepped out onto the front porch. His expression was blank, his mouth only a slit.

It was an expression with which Kyle was intimately familiar.

"Where the hell have you been?" his father snapped.

Kyle got out of the jeep and approached the house.

Kyle Senior stood at the top of the porch steps like an army sergeant, his beefy arms crossed over his chest. Although intellectually he may have been a "nerdy professor," physically, he was an intimidating man. He was a couple of inches taller than Kyle—about 6'3", and a lot thicker and heavier.

"I was just over at Daniel's," Kyle said. "What's wrong?"

"No you weren't. I called over there. I called all over the place looking for you—why aren't you answering your phone?"

"I...it's in the boat. I forgot it yesterday."

His father shook his head, then jerked his thumb towards the house. "Didn't you see my note?"

"No," Kyle lied. "I haven't been home all day."

His stood motionless, his eyes locked on Kyle's face. "That makes you twice a liar."

Kyle swallowed hard, afraid to say anything more.

"I know for a fact the toolbox was here when I came home at lunch, because I put the boat key in it. Now, it's gone." His father paused. "I had a feeling I couldn't trust you, and it looks like I was right."

Kyle said nothing. He only wished he had opened up the toolbox and found the boat key. It would have saved Briana a lot of swimming.

"What the hell's the matter with you, boy?" his father said, throwing his hands up in the air. "You see my note and just defy me? People's lives might be in danger, your friends' lives, for Christ's sake..." He ran one hand through his hair, seeming to become aware of his ranting and raving. He motioned to one of the wicker chairs on the porch. "Sit down for a minute."

Kyle stepped up onto the porch and did as he was told. His father sat down in the swing, arms still crossed. He looked directly into Kyle's eyes. "Where did that water come from?"

"Why? What's the matter with it?

"I asked you a question, Kyle."

"I told you, it came from a spring out at the lake."

"What spring? Where?"

"In a cave."

His father looked surprised. "What cave?"

"I don't know. Just a cave, Dad. What do you want me to do, draw you a map?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do."

"Why? What's in the water?"

His father started to say something, then leaned forward, touching his fingertips together. His face lost its agitated expression and took on the learned look of a professor. "I assume you know what specific gravity is?"

"Yeah. Of course I do."

His father waited patiently. He wanted a definition, as if Kyle was sitting in one of his environmental engineering classes.

Kyle sighed. "It's like the density."

"Yes, in a way," his father said, clearly not totally satisfied with Kyle's answer. He touched his fingertips together again. "Do you remember what the specific gravity of water is?"

"Yeah, that's easy. It's always equal to one."

"Right." He reached under the swing and pulled out the plastic water bottle, which was only half-full now. "Every standard test they performed on this sample over in the chemistry department said that this is ordinary water. Except one, that is. The specific gravity test. That test says this stuff isn't water. Why? Because the specific gravity is slightly greater than one. They tested it over and over again, thinking that something might be wrong with the instrumentation or the procedure, but the result was the same every time." He looked at the water, shaking his head in a perplexed way. "The only thing that could cause that is if it has a concentration of some isotope of water." His face took on that academic look again. "Do you know what an isotope is?"

"Yeah," Kyle said, rolling his eyes. "It's a molecule with an extra or missing neutron. It gives it a different atomic weight."

"Right. Good, Kyle. They tested this sample against all the known isotopes of water, and it doesn't match any of them." He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "The professors in the chemistry department are very excited about this, Kyle. They think it may contain a new water isotope. The implications could be staggering."

"Oh," Kyle said.

"'Oh'? Is that all you've got to say about all this? 'Oh'?"

Kyle swallowed again. "I'm sorry, but I...what would happen if you drank it?"

"I have no idea. I'm an engineer, not a biochemist. We don't even know that it's a water isotope, anyway—that's just a theory at this point. In any case, nobody should be drinking it. God only knows what it might do."

Kyle nodded, but his father was wrong. God wasn't the only one who knew what it might do—he and Briana had a pretty good idea of at least some of its capabilities.

"We need a lot more of it so we can do some other experiments," his father said. "I want you to draw me a map showing exactly where this cave is."

Kyle nodded. "I'm not going to do that."

Kyle Senior nodded back, then did a double-take. "What?"

"I said, I'm not going to do that."

His father leaned forward, his mouth half-open. "Could you repeat that one more time? I don't think I'm hearing you right, son."

"I think you're hearing me just fine, Dad," Kyle said. "I'm not going to draw you a map." He got up and walked inside the house, though a bit uncertainly. He had only taken two steps before he heard his father throw open the door and stomp into the living room behind him.

"Kyle!" he yelled.

Kyle turned around. "What?"

"What in the hell's the matter with you, boy? I want to know where that spring is!"

Kyle braced himself for the coming storm. "I can't tell you, Dad. I'm sorry, but I just can't." He turned around and headed towards the stairway. The next thing he knew, he had been jerked backwards by the collar and whirled roughly around by his father's powerful hands. He found himself looking into Kyle Senior's beet-red face.

"Who do you think you are, you little...!" He grabbed a fistful of Kyle's sweatshirt and pulled Kyle forward until his angry face was only inches away. He was so close Kyle could smell salami on his breath. "You're going to tell me where that spring is right now!"

"No I'm not," Kyle said weakly. He cringed in expectation of a blow.

Kyle Senior's face got even redder, the veins on his forehead bulging out so far it looked like they might explode. "WHY?"

"Because nobody has really drunk any of the water, and nobody ever will."

His father's grip loosened a little. "I thought you said some kids—"

"I said 'kids,' but I guess I meant 'kid.' Only one person has drunk it, and she's kind of a...special case, I guess you'd say."

His dad let him loose. "What are you talking about, 'special case?' Who drank it?"

"I'm not telling you," Kyle said, backing away.

"Oh yes you are, son. Whoever this 'she' is could be in very serious..." A flash of insight come over his father's face. "It was Briana Fox, wasn't it?"

"No," Kyle lied, but he knew his eyes betrayed him.

"I should have known," his father said, shaking his head. "That girl will put anything in her mouth."

Kyle felt his own face flush. "Don't you talk about her like that!" he snapped, pointing a menacing finger at his father.

Kyle Senior looked a little taken aback, then a smile formed on his lips. "What are you going to do, Kyle? Beat me up?" His smile widened into a taunting sneer. "You think you're big enough now to take me on?"

Kyle glared at him for a moment, breathing hard, his fists clenched tightly together. "Just don't talk about her like that."

They both stood there looking at each other, panting, in a stand-off. After a few long seconds, the sneer on Kyle Senior's face disappeared. His expression became solemn and strict. "You're going to cooperate with me, son, or I'm going to kick your smart ass right out of this house and onto the street."

"Do whatever you want," Kyle said, as he turned around and walked up the stairs.

Chapter 9

Kyle went up to his room and called Briana.

She answered on the first ring. He repeated what his father had told him, explaining the tests that had been performed on the water. He didn't think she understood everything about the isotopes, but she got the general idea.

"What do you think they'll do?" Briana said.

"I don't know," Kyle whispered. "Probably send divers down to try and find the cave, if I tell them where it is."

"Don't tell them," she said quickly.

"Don't worry—I won't."

There was a click. They both stopped talking.

"Dad?" Kyle said.

"I need to use the phone, Kyle," Kyle Senior said irritably.

"I'll be off in a minute."

After a few seconds, there was another soft click.

"Is he off?" Briana whispered.

"I think so. He knows I'm talking to you, though. He was probably going to call your mom."

"Let him call. It should be an interesting conversation. She just broke open her second six-pack."

Kyle paused, disgusted by the image Briana's comment brought to mind. But Briana's alcoholic mother was the least of her problems now. "Listen, Brie...have you thought about...you know, how you're going to deal with this green water...situation? Over the long run, I mean?"

"You mean when I leave for State?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not going."

"What do you mean, you're not going?"

"How else can I say it? I'm—not—going. Period. Unless I can take some of the water with me, somehow."

"I don't think that's possible."

"Me either. It has to stay in the cave, or it goes bad."

Kyle wasn't sure this was true. He had already given the problem a lot thought. There were several reasons the water could have gone bad after they took it away from the cave. The bottle they had put it in was far from sterile, and whatever was already inside might have contaminated it and caused it to go bad. And it had gotten warm as well. Kyle remembered how cold the spring in the cave had been. Maybe the water had to be kept cold or it would lose its healing properties.

But even if he could devise a way to bring it up and keep it from going bad, by packing it in ice, in sterile bottles, for example, he didn't think they could bring up enough of it to last her more than a few days.

There was another click.

"Kyle?" his dad said gruffly.

"Yeah?"

"I told you, I need to use the phone."

"I'm getting off right now."

His father slammed down the receiver—Kyle could hear it through the floor of his bedroom.

"He's pissed as hell, isn't he?" Briana said.

"Yeah," Kyle said, not wanting to think about it. "Listen, Brie, you can't stay at your house right now. You have to go somewhere and hide, until we figure out what to do."

"Why?"

"Because my father might call the cops or something, and they might haul you off to a hospital. Is there somewhere you can go?"

"I could go over to Tanya's."

"That's no good—it's the first place they'll look."

"But I could stay in the tree house. Nobody would know I was there except you and her."

Kyle considered this. They hadn't been over to Tanya's tree house since the last day of school the year before, when they stayed up all night and got drunk. "It will have to do. Go there right now, okay?"

"All right," she said.

"I'll take you back over to the lake tomorrow, right after school, if you need me to. I'll be finished at eleven."

Chapter 10

The next morning, Kyle's father's secretary, Sheila, showed up at the door of his English class. Kyle felt a paralyzing sense of dread pass over him. Professor Morelli walked over to the door. Sheila said something to him in a low voice.

Morelli turned around and scanned the classroom. His eyes focused on Kyle.

"Mr. Dunlap?" he said.

Kyle got up, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and walked over to the door. Sheila motioned him outside and Morelli pulled the door shut, leaving them alone in the hallway.

"Your dad wants to talk to you," Sheila said. "He said it's extremely urgent."

Kyle nodded and followed her down the corridor, his heart pounding harder with each step. The situation brought back a painful memory. The last time he had been called out of class was when he was eleven years old, when his mother had died of a massive stroke. The assistant principal had simply told him that his father wanted to talk to him; he didn't learn that his mother was dead until he reached the hospital.

When he and Sheila came around the corner where the English department offices were located, he was surprised to find his father standing in the hallway, next to a small room reserved for seminars. Kyle had assumed that he was waiting in his office in the engineering building.

Kyle Senior thanked Sheila as she continued down the hall and out one of the exits, leaving them alone in the hallway. Something was definitely wrong. His father's face was drawn and cheesy looking.

"Son," Kyle Senior said, his voice strained, "I want you to know, I didn't have anything to do with this."

Kyle swallowed and glanced at the seminar room door, which was closed.

"With what?"

"There are some people here who want to talk to you. They're from the—"

The door opened. A well-built man in a dark blue suit looked Kyle over, then turned to Kyle's father. "We'd like to speak with him alone, professor, if you don't mind."

"No," Kyle Senior said, looking guiltily at Kyle.

"Come on in, son," the man said. He put a firm hand on Kyle's shoulder and guided him into the small room. Something about the way the hand felt told Kyle that it had spent much of its life guiding people into small rooms.

There was another man sitting at the conference table. He also wore a suit, but he didn't have the athletic, clean-cut look of the first man—he wore glasses, had a sagging belly, and his brown hair was a bit disheveled. He merely nodded to Kyle.

The brawny man motioned to a chair directly across from the other man.

"Why don't you have a seat?" he said to Kyle.

Kyle guardedly set down his backpack and complied. The brawny man sat down next to the other man. They both just sat there, side-by-side, gazing at Kyle as if they were sizing him up.

"Mr. Dunlap," the brawny one said, "we represent the United States government. We understand that you know the location of this unusual water that the chemistry department has been testing here. Is that true?"

Kyle looked at him for a moment, then at the other man. "What are you, CIA agents or something?"

The two men exchanged glances. "That's really none of your concern," the brawny one continued. "Do you or do you not know where the water sample came from?"

"Why do you want to know?"

They glanced at each other again. "Listen, son," the brawny one said, "you could be in a lot of trouble here, and I would strongly advise you to cooperate with us."

"Kyle," the other man said in a much gentler tone, "that water is very...special. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could be very dangerous. You don't want that to happen, do you?"

Kyle let out a short laugh. "I'm not in the fifth grade. I know all about the specific gravity being greater than one, and the isotope theory."

The two men exchanged glances again, both looking surprised.

"What do you want it for?" Kyle asked. "To make a weapon or something?"

The brawny man's face seemed to turn to stone. "Now you listen up, son. We don't have time for any crap. You can either tell us where this water came from or—"

The smart-looking man touched the other one's wrist. "Let me handle this, will you?"

The brawny man glared at Kyle for a second.

Brawn and Brains, Kyle thought.

"We can see that you're a bright young man," Brains said, in an academic tone that reminded Kyle of his father. "I'm sorry if I seemed condescending. Of course you'd want to know what we intend to do with your discovery, and—"

"It's not my discovery," Kyle interrupted.

"Oh?"

"It's nobody's 'discovery.' It's just water from a spring, that's all."

"Well," he said, smiling, "I'm glad that you feel that way. And if that's the case, there shouldn't be any problem telling us where it is."

Kyle looked at Brawn, then back at Brains, groping for some excuse.

"We know about your friend, Kyle," Brawn said.

Kyle tried not to show any reaction.

"Where is she?" Brains asked.

Kyle was silent.

Brawn slowly rose to his feet. "Look, son, you can either tell us where she is now or—"

"Kyle," Brains broke in, "it's very important that she get immediate medical attention. We really have no idea what her, or anyone's, reaction might be to a new water isotope. I know you don't want her to fall ill, and neither do we."

Kyle chuckled softly. There was greed in both men's eyes. "You don't care about what happens to her. All you want to do is see what it did to her and find out if you can do it to somebody else."

They glanced at each other again, as if they were surprised at Kyle's audacity. Brains took off his glasses and polished the lenses with his tie. "I can see that you have a very jaded view of your government," he said, "but we really are interested in the new isotope for humanitarian purposes."

"Oh, is that so? Like what?"

"Well," Brains said, putting his glasses back on, "there are a lot of possible applications. It may be useful in medicine...agriculture...environmental cleanup..."

"Yeah. And it also might be fun to dump it into the water supply of some unsuspecting country you want to manipulate."

Brawn took a step forward. "I've had enough of your smart-ass college-boy crap! You can either tell us where this water came from and where your friend is, or you can be placed under arrest right now."

Kyle just sat there. He was scared to death, but he thought they were bluffing. "Is there a law against knowing where a spring is and not telling?"

Brawn's eyes became so focused and intense that he looked like the Terminator. "You don't know what you're dealing with, kid. When it comes to matters of national security, the law doesn't mean a damn th—"

"Stop!" Brains said, raising his voice for the first time.

"But he—"

"Sit down and let me handle this before you say something you wish you hadn't."

Brawn grudgingly lowered himself back into his chair, but his piercing blue eyes stayed riveted on Kyle's.

"Now there's no need for us to get in a big scrap over this. You're absolutely right, Kyle—we can't force you to cooperate with us. You have to do so willingly. So you just go on back to your English class and think about what we've talked about here. You seem like a man of high principles. Think about the right thing to do in this situation. Your friend may become seriously ill. The isotope you know the whereabouts of could fall into the wrong hands and be used for purposes I can't imagine you, or any other thinking human being, supporting." He shrugged. "It's really very simple. You can choose to stop that from happening, or you can choose not to stop it from happening. It's up to you."

He rose and offered his hand to Kyle. "Thanks for taking the time to talk to us." He glanced over at Brawn, who simply scowled.

Kyle reluctantly shook hands, then picked up his backpack and went out the door. His father was still standing outside.

"Kyle, listen. I—"

Kyle brushed past him and kept moving.

Chapter 11

Half an hour later, Kyle was in the alley behind Tanya's house, crouched beside some garbage cans. He could see the tree house from where he was, and the back of Tanya's house as well. He had been there for about five minutes, watching, but had seen nothing unusual. That didn't mean much, however. For all he knew, Tanya's house could have been full of CIA agents, watching his every move.

He glanced over his shoulder, up and down the alley, also afraid he might have been followed, but he had taken a long, zig-zagging route to Tanya's neighborhood and hadn't seen anyone following him.

After a few more minutes, he gathered his courage and slipped out from behind the trash cans, still crouching. He crawled down the alley, keeping himself hidden behind a sagging, vine-covered chain link fence. When he reached the end, he was only ten feet or so from the base of the big oak where the tree house was. He squatted there for a minute, peering around the edge of the fence at Tanya's house again. If he ran over to the tree, he would be out in plain sight.

He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Brie!" he called in a loud whisper, directing his voice towards the ramshackle plywood and tin structure. The tree house was built in a three-way fork in the trunk about twenty feet above the ground.

There was no reply.

He called several more times, his voice growing louder with each attempt. If she was up there, she either didn't hear him or was in no condition to answer. He wished they had their cell phones.

He decided that he had no choice but to take the risk. He assumed a sprinting position, took a deep breath, then dashed across the grass and scurried up the ladder as fast as he could. He climbed through a hole in a plywood platform, the "porch" as they used to call it, and quickly pushed the makeshift door open.

"Brie?" he whispered, crouching as he entered. It was dim and dank inside.

"Kyle?" a voice said in a weak whisper. He looked to his left and saw a mound inside a sleeping bag, a wisp of blonde hair sticking out of it.

"It's me," he said, crawling over to her.

She propped herself up on one elbow, squinting at him. "What time is it?"

"It's around noon." She was still wearing the State T-shirt. There was an open can of soda and a half-eaten plate of what looked like pork chops and mashed potatoes next to her. "Are you all right?"

She clutched at her stomach. "Not so good. It started wearing off again a little while ago." She pulled up her shirt and exposed her abdomen. The wound didn't look as bad as it had the day before, but it was still shocking, even in the dim light. It looked like a fresh knife cut.

"I felt great until early this morning," she said. "I think maybe if I just drink more next time, it will last longer."

Kyle swallowed, feeling sick. "You have to go back to the lake right now and get some more," he said, but he wasn't sure that would work this time.

"Yeah, I have to," she said, lying back down. The enthusiasm she had showed the day before was gone. She looked utterly exhausted.

They sat there for a moment in silence. Kyle considered telling her about the government agents, but decided it would do no good and only scare her more. "Listen, are you sure you don't want to go to a hospital?"

She thought over his question briefly, chewing on her lip. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"They could sew you up, at least."

"I know, but they would have to wait until the water completely wore off, and then..." What little color she had in her cheeks disappeared. "Kyle, if I hadn't found that cave, I know I would be dead right now, whether you took me to a hospital or not."

Kyle didn't respond, but he thought she was probably right.

They were both quiet again. The silence of the tree house seemed to engulf them. Kyle rose to a squatting position. "Come on, we better get going."

She reluctantly let him help her out of the sleeping bag.

He looked at the plate of uneaten food. "Don't you have any appetite?"

"Not much. I haven't really eaten anything since it happened."

She was normally slim, but now he thought she looked a little bony, even through her jeans and T-shirt.

"I'll go first," he said, and stepped outside the door. But when he looked down into the yard, his heart felt like it leaped up and slammed into his breastbone.

Brawn and Brains were standing there, hands in their pockets, looking up at him.

"The game's over, son," Brawn said.

"Who is it?" Briana whispered.

He turned to her. "Some government agents. They came and talked to me today at school."

"Come down from there right now," Brawn called in an authoritative tone.

Kyle looked down at the big man. His blue suit jacket was unbuttoned. Kyle could clearly see a brown leather holster peeking out from under the left side of it.

"No funny business," Brawn said.

"What should I do?" Briana whispered from behind.

Kyle turned back to her. She was kneeling on the floor, holding her stomach. "You don't have any choice. You have to go with them."

"Where?"

Before Kyle could answer, Brawn started climbing up the ladder. "Stand back, son," he said. "I know your friend is up there. We're not going to hurt her."

Kyle reluctantly moved aside.

"Kyle, don't let them take me!" Briana whispered. She pushed the door shut and locked it from the inside. But Kyle knew that the makeshift lock wouldn't stop a brisk wind—it was nothing but a scrap of wood with a nail in it.

Brawn made his way up onto the porch, huffing and puffing. For a few seconds, Kyle thought about kicking him in the face. But that would be pointless—it would just get him into even more trouble and only delay the inevitable by a minute or two. He was sure Brains had a gun, too.

Brawn glanced at Kyle suspiciously, then pushed on the door.

It didn't budge.

He rapped on the warped wood a few times. "Come on, honey, we're not going to hurt you. We're just going to take you to have some tests and make sure you're all right."

Briana didn't answer.

He looked over at Kyle. "Tell her it's all right."

"I already did."

"Then do it again."

Kyle sighed. "It's all right, Brie," he said. "These nice men won't hurt you. They work for our _government_ , and they only want to help y—"

"Shut up!" Brawn said.

Kyle closed his mouth.

"Open the door right now, miss," Brawn said. "I'm through playing around."

There was still no answer.

Brawn gave the door a shove, and the "lock" snapped off and dropped to the floor, spinning across the plywood. He cautiously pushed the door open wider and crouched, peering inside.

"Get away from me!" Briana hissed.

"Come on, now," he said in a soothing tone, moving into the doorway. "There's nothing to be afrai—OWWWWW!"

He jerked himself back outside the door and almost lost his balance, grabbing a thick branch to keep himself from tumbling over the tree house's wobbly railing. "That little bitch bit me!" he yelled, holding up his hand. There were teeth marks in his thick forefinger, one of which was rapidly filling with blood. He turned and looked down at Brains, his eyes wide, holding his finger in the air. "Do you think there's any danger from this?"

Brains rolled his eyes. "Do I have to come up there and help you?"

Kyle couldn't help laughing..

Brawn looked over at Kyle. "What's so damn funny?"

Briana slammed the tree house door shut, in Brawn's face. Brawn started to push it open again, then changed his mind. "Get your butt out here right now!" he bellowed through the door at Briana.

"Don't yell at her," Kyle said. "She's just scared."

"Move!" Brawn shouted, ignoring him.

"Brie," Kyle called, "you better just come out. They've got guns."

Kyle and Brawn both watched the door. Inside, the wooden floor started creaking. Brawn backed away a little bit.

After a few seconds, Briana emerged, teetering, and grabbed onto a branch to steady herself. Kyle stifled a gasp—in the bright daylight, her skin looked milky white and her eyes had a dull green sheen, almost like algae, which contrasted sharply with her pallor.

"She doesn't look too good," Brawn called down to his partner. "You better call an ambulance."

Chapter 12

"I'm only going to ask you this one more time, son," Brawn said. "Who cut up your friend?"

Kyle was sitting in a chair in his living room, facing the two government men, who sat side by side on the couch. His father sat off to one side on an ottoman, leaning forward, watching Kyle intently.

"I told you," Kyle said wearily. "She got hit by a speedboat."

Brawn looked over at Brains, shaking his head. "And then she swam down to the bottom, went into the cave, fixed herself up with the magic water, and swam back to the boat."

"That's right," Kyle said flatly.

Brawn let out a frustrated sigh and looked over at Kyle Senior. "Did you raise your son to fabricate whoppers like this, professor?"

"That's enough," Brains said. He looked at Kyle Senior respectfully. "I apologize, sir. You have to understand, this is a stressful situation for both of us. There's a great deal at stake here."

Kyle Senior gave him a slight nod, but regarded Brawn coolly.

Brains looked back at Kyle. "I give you my word. We will give you both round-the-clock protection until we catch whoever it is. You have nothing to fear."

"I'm telling you the truth," Kyle said. "There's no one to catch. Why won't you believe me?"

Brains studied Kyle's face. "Whoever it is, they've scared the living hell out of you, that's for sure. Is it somebody from a foreign country? A terrorist? Who?"

"It's NOBODY!" Kyle shouted.

Brawn leaped off the couch. "Then why won't you tell us where the water IS, you little punk!"

"Don't you yell at my son like that!" Kyle Senior said, jumping up from the ottoman.

"Hold it, hold it," Brains said, waving his hands in the air. "This is getting us nowhere. Both of you just plant your asses back in those cushions and calm down." He pointed at Brawn. "And if you can't act like a professional, I'm going to report you and have a replacement brought in. Is that clear?"

Brawn just looked at the floor, a surly expression on his all-American face.

Brains spoke slowly and carefully. "Kyle, even though my hot-headed associate here has a little trouble expressing himself in a diplomatic manner, he does have a point. If this far-fetched story you're telling us is indeed true, then why won't you tell us the location of the spring?"

Kyle said nothing, trying to organize his thoughts.

"Answer the man, son," his dad said.

"All right," Kyle said irritably. "I'll tell you why. If I show you where the spring is, I'm afraid you won't let Brie have access to it any more, and she'll die."

Kyle's father shook his head and stood up, as if he couldn't bear to listen to any more. He walked over to the window and gazed out at the front lawn.

As if talking to a small child, Brains said to Kyle, "Well, what if I promise to see that she gets as much of it as she wants?"

Kyle felt a twinge of hope. Maybe the man would keep his word. "You'll let her drink as much as she wants? Let her bathe her wounds in it?"

Brains glanced over at Kyle's father, who was still shaking his head. "If she agrees to receive medical help. After she's recovered, if she still wants to drink it, we'll let her have as much as..."

"Why can't her mother just sign for her?" Kyle's father broke in.

"Because the girl is eighteen years old," Brains answered patiently. "Not that her mother is in any condition right now to sign anything, anyway."

Kyle Senior rolled his eyes and looked back out the window. "What a family."

"Son," Brains said to Kyle, "I give you my word. After she's recovered, she can drink as much of that water as she wants to."

Kyle wanted to believe him. "Do you have a piece of paper?" he asked.

Brawn stepped forward, smiling for the first time since Kyle had met him. "We can do better than that—we have a satellite map of the whole lake."

Chapter 13

Kyle pulled into the parking lot of the Veteran's Administration Hospital, where they had taken Briana. As he got out of his jeep, he noticed four big Army helicopters flying along the horizon, in the direction of the lake.

They don't waste any time, Kyle thought.

When he went inside the hospital, no one at the front desk could find any record of a Briana Fox having been admitted. Just as Kyle was beginning to get angry, a tall man in a gray pin-striped suit walked up.

"Come with me," he said.

Kyle followed him; they took the elevator up to the third floor. He led Kyle past an MP who was sitting at a desk in the hallway and into an empty waiting area.

"Wait here," the man said simply, and left.

The room was stark—no magazines, no ash trays, nothing—only a few flimsy-looking plastic chairs.

After a minute or so, the door opened again. Brains entered the room. His face was expressionless. He sat down in a seat directly across from Kyle and sighed.

"She still won't sign the papers."

Kyle wasn't surprised. "You told her about our agreement?"

"Didn't make any difference. She still won't consent to treatment." He shook his head sadly. "She's making a big mistake, son. She needs those cuts sewn up. They're not going to heal properly without stitches."

Kyle nodded, but he knew that it would take a lot more than a few stitches to get her back to normal. They didn't know the extent of her wounds. But why would they? They didn't know that she had ingested some strange healing substance that was wearing off and causing the injuries to steadily worsen. Well, maybe they knew it, but they still didn't believe it.

"Maybe if you talked to her," Brains said, "she'd see reason."

Kyle watched the man for a moment, anger slowly welling up inside him. "You can cut the dramatic act. I don't buy it."

Brains' eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"You don't give a damn about her. All you care about is having a healthy warm body to use as a guinea pig to see what effects the water might have on it."

Brains regarded him coldly. "You're wrong about that. We're interested in any applications this new isotope might have, positive or negative."

"Really?" Kyle said, glancing around the room. "Then how come you locked her up in this army hospital? Why isn't she over at University Hospital, where all the high-powered research goes on?"

"Because we can arrange for better protection here."

"Protection?" Kyle couldn't help laughing. "Protection from what? Nobody's worked up about this water but you guys."

Brains eyed Kyle knowingly. "And whoever cut her up." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Have they paid you off to keep quiet, or what?"

Kyle shook his head and got up. "Where is she? I want to see her."

Chapter 14

The MP opened the door and Kyle stepped into the room. He found Briana sitting up in bed, the covers pulled tightly around her neck. She looked pale and very tense, but relaxed when she saw Kyle's face. He smiled at her.

He turned back to Brains and the MP, who were both standing in the doorway, watching him.

"Can we have a little privacy?"

The MP looked at Brains.

"It's all right," Brains said. They left and pulled the door shut.

Kyle turned back to Briana. "You're looking better," he said. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.

"Don't lie, Kyle."

He looked around the room, checking for a tiny video camera, but didn't see one. But there was probably a microphone hidden somewhere. On the table beside her was a clipboard, thick with release forms. There was a ballpoint pen sitting on top of it, tip extended.

"Ready and waiting," Briana said, eyeing it coldly.

Kyle pulled up a chair and sat down. They looked at each other for a moment, and then her face became cloudy. "I'm mad at you."

Kyle picked up the clipboard. "I figured that." He thumbed through the forms. There were a few that were marked "U.S. Army" in the back with titles like "EXPERIMENTAL SIDE-EFFECTS DISCLAIMER" and "OFFSPRING DEFORMITY RELEASE." On the bottom was a form titled "PERMISSION FOR TRANSFER TO WALTER REED ARMY HOSPITAL." He wondered if she had read them all.

"I had no choice, Brie," he said, looking back at her. "I had to tell them where the spring was." Making small, stealthy movements that he hoped wouldn't be caught by a camera, he picked up the pen and wrote in the margin of the top form, _I didn't tell them where it really was. Don't say a word—the room might be bugged. Just play along._

"You really have to sign these forms," he said, holding the clipboard out so she could see what he had written.

"I'm not going to sign..." Her voice faded momentarily as she read the message. "...those forms, Kyle."

"Why are you so stubborn?" he said, as he scratched out another message. He thrust the clip board at her. "You have to sign, Brie!"

_I have a plan to get you out of here_ , he had written.

She nodded, then looked like she didn't know what to say. "I want the water!" she blurted out. It sounded melodramatic, even to Kyle.

"Well, you have to sign these forms to get it." He looked back at the clipboard and touched the pen to the paper, quickly writing:

Say that you have to talk with Sister Mary Louise before you decide.

Briana bit her thumbnail. "I really need to talk to Sister Mary Louise, before I decide," she said, sounding even more melodramatic than she had before.

She was no actress—Kyle knew he had to wrap this up quickly.

"Do you want me to get Sister Mary Louise for you?" Kyle said.

"Yes."

"All right," he said. He got up and kissed her again. He slipped the release form he had written the message on into his pocket and put the clipboard and pen back down.

Opening the door, he smiled briefly at the MP and saw Brains emerging from a door down the hall. They both went back out into the waiting area.

"Well?" Brains said.

"She wants to talk to a nun first."

"A nun?" he said, sounding surprised.

"Yeah. She's kind of religious. She was raised Catholic."

"Oh," Brains said. If he had been eavesdropping, he was doing a good acting job. "What nun?"

"Sister Mary Louise. She's Brie's half-cousin, or something. They're real close."

"Where does she live?"

"At a convent downtown." Kyle paused. "I can go there now and get her, if you want me to."

Brains glanced at his watch. For an instant, Kyle thought he saw a flicker of suspicion cross the man's middle-aged face. "Yes," he said, "that would be helpful. I've got a lot of things to do."

Yeah, Kyle thought. Like maybe taking a little run over to the lake to see how your scuba-diving operation is coming along.

Brains turned to the MP "He'll be back with a nun, Sister..." He turned back toward Kyle. "What was her name?"

"Mary Louise," the MP answered.

"Right. She has my permission to see the girl."

Chapter 15

As Kyle drove away from the hospital, he felt uncertain about what had just transpired. It had all been too easy.

He drove a few blocks towards home, glancing in his rearview mirror, but no one seemed to be following him. Maybe they were no longer interested in him or Briana, now that they thought they knew the location of the spring. He and Briana were small potatoes...

He really wanted to believe what he was telling himself. He decided that he would have to believe it, at least for the time being, and continue to move forward with his plan.

He drove straight over to a Pizza Hut that was only a few minutes away. The nun idea had come to him on the way over to the hospital, and he had called Tanya from a pay phone to tell her where to go and wait for him.

He parked, and started to go inside the restaurant to find her, but she stepped out the front door and trotted down the sidewalk to his jeep. She jumped inside, looking scared out of her wits.

"Where's Brie?" she said breathlessly. "These two men came to our house this morning, and I told them I didn't know where she was, and—"

"She's in the hospital," Kyle interrupted.

"The hospital?" Tanya looked shocked. "What's the matter with her?"

Kyle wondered how much Briana had told her. "Why did she say she needed to stay in your tree house last night?"

"She said she was in trouble with her mom. She didn't explain. Why? What's the matter with her, Kyle? I didn't think she looked right when I left for school this morning."

"She's kind of sick," Kyle said, backing up the jeep and heading out of the parking lot. He decided that there wasn't time to explain everything, not that Tanya would have believed it. Besides, if she went along with his plan, the less she knew, the better off she would be. "She drank some water from a spring out at the lake yesterday, and it must have been bad. Those guys are from some government agency—they wanted to find her to do some tests on her."

"I knew she didn't look right," Tanya said. "She said she was just tired and wanted to sleep today, but I thought something was wrong..." She turned to Kyle. "But last night, she was on top of the world. I've never seen her in such a good mood."

"It has kind of a delayed reaction," Kyle explained. He pulled out into the street and glanced over at Tanya—she had on a pair of tight shorts and a top that showed too much skin. It was hard to imagine her playing the part he was about to ask her to play. But he couldn't think of anyone else.

"What do you want me to do?" she said. "You said you needed my help."

"We do. We both do. We need you to help us get Brie out of the hospital."

Tanya looked puzzled. "How can I do that?"

Kyle glanced at her outfit again. "Do you think you could pretend to be a nun?" he said, trying not to sound too doubtful.

"A what?"

"A nun," Kyle repeated.

She was quiet for a moment, and he glanced over at her again. She was looking at him like he had lost his mind.

"Come on, Tanya I think you can do it. We can rent a nun's habit from the costume shop and stop at a bookstore and buy a bible."

"I can't act like a nun!"

"Yes, you can," Kyle said patiently, though Kyle knew it would be a stretch.

"No I can't!" Tanya looked panicky. "Anyway, I don't see how that will get her out of the—"

"I'll explain how," Kyle said. "Just listen to me for a minute."

Chapter 16

This time, a middle-aged nurse served as the escort from the waiting area down the hallway that led to Briana's room. Kyle and Tanya trailed a few feet behind her, Tanya walking slowly and reverently, with her head down, as Kyle had instructed. The nun's black habit looked perfect on her. She had applied a little bit of makeup, giving herself some laugh lines around her eyes and highlighting the creases around her mouth. She still looked young, but she could have passed for a 25 year-old.

They came around a corner and Tanya slowed down a little when she saw the MP He was still sitting at the desk outside Briana's room, reading a magazine. He was a beefy fellow who looked like he took pride in his job.

"I know it's a challenge for you," Kyle whispered to Tanya, "but try to think pure thoughts."

She elbowed him through the nun's habit.

The MP looked up at them as they approached.

"This is Sister Mary Louise," Kyle said.

The MP looked her up and down, as if he had never seen a nun before.

Kyle waited patiently. He prayed that the MP wouldn't ask for any identification.

The MP's eyes stopped on the bible in her hands. To Kyle's great relief, he reached over and opened the door for her.

As Kyle stepped inside the hospital room, he hoped that Briana wouldn't laugh when she saw Tanya's face. He remained outside and pulled the door shut. He smiled cordially at the MP, who barely acknowledged him and went back to his magazine, some kind of fitness journal. Kyle put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall.

"Been in the Army long?" Kyle asked.

The MP looked up at him and frowned. "Why?"

Kyle shrugged. "Just wondering. I've thought about joining up a few times." Of course, this was an even bigger lie than Tanya pretending to be a nun, but Kyle wanted to distract him in case there were any unusual noises from the room.

The MP looked him over. "You don't look like the type, bud."

"Oh? What type is 'the type'?"

The MP shrugged. "Hard to say." He went back to his magazine.

Kyle started to say something else, but changed his mind. It was obvious the man wasn't interested in making conversation, and he didn't want to push his luck. Instead, he jangled the change in his pockets and paced slowly up and down in front of the room, dragging his sneakers across the floor so that they made squeaking sounds. The MP glanced at him a couple of times.

"Why don't you sit down, kid?" the MP finally said, nodding to a chair across the hall. "You're getting on my nerves."

At that moment, the door to Briana's room opened. The nun stepped out. She gave Kyle a wan smile.

"Did you make any progress?" Kyle said, looking into her eyes. They were teary, but he knew the tears weren't emotional—they were from the physical pain she was in.

"I think so," she said softly.

The MP peered into the room, as Kyle looked nervously over the big man's shoulder. Tanya was in the bed, but under the covers, turned away towards the window so that only the back of her head was visible. Fortunately, Tanya's bleached blonde hair was close to the color of Briana's.

The MP seemed satisfied and pulled the door shut. He watched Kyle and the "nun" walk away. Kyle hoped that Briana wouldn't wobble or collapse until they got out of his line of sight.

As soon as they stepped around the corner, Briana stopped to lean against the wall, gasping softly.

"I can't make it," she said.

"Yes, you can," Kyle said, supporting her by the arm. "It's not much farther."

She gritted her teeth and continued on, wavering slightly. A passing nurse glanced at her but kept moving.

"Just a little farther," Kyle whispered, as they went back out into the waiting area. It was still empty. He led her out the door and down another hallway that led to the elevator. They fell in step behind an orderly who was pushing a cart of dirty linen. On the right, Kyle spotted a door with a red EXIT sign above it. He quietly pulled Briana through it and into the stairwell.

She promptly collapsed.

Kyle caught her in his arms. He picked her up and carried her down three flights of stairs. When they reached the bottom, he set her back down and leaned her against the wall. He noticed a smear of blood on his right forearm. He quickly wiped it away.

Her eyes were slowly opening and closing, as if she was drifting in and out.

"Brie," he whispered, gently shaking her. "There's no way I can carry you through the lobby—we'll get caught for sure. You'll have to walk out yourself."

"I can't," she said. She looked up at him helplessly. "Kyle, it's no use..."

"Yes it is, Brie. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in an army hospital? When they find out the truth about that green water, they're never going to let you go. You'll be nothing but a human experiment. Didn't you see that form to transfer you to Walter Reed? That's in Washington, D.C. They don't have any intention of keeping their promise, don't you understand?"

Her eyes opened a little wider.

"Wait right here," he said, moving her over into the corner, behind the door. "You don't have to walk—I'll get you a wheelchair."

Kyle let go of her as she slumped against the wall. He was afraid she would fall down again and propped her back up. "Just lean here for a minute, okay?"

She closed her eyes.

When he let go again, she slumped a little further into the corner, but looked like she would stay put. Kyle went back out into the hallway and walked briskly down the corridor, glancing in every doorway he passed. He spotted a wheelchair in a room where an elderly woman was sleeping. He slipped inside, grabbed the wheelchair, and rolled it back out the door. Several nurses passed by, chatting with each other. One of them glanced at him, but they were absorbed in their conversation and just kept walking.

When he pushed the wheelchair through the stairwell door, he found Brie in a semi-squatting position. She was panting and her forehead was dripping with sweat.

He carefully picked her up and set her in the wheelchair. She slumped over to one side, but Kyle straightened her back up. "I'm going to get you out of here, Brie," he said, hoping to inspire her a little. "I'm going to take you straight to the green water."

When the last two words crossed his lips, she looked a little more alert.

"Good. Now, try to act like you feel great. Pretend you just drank five gallons of the stuff."

She gave a trace of a smile.

"Perfect," Kyle said. "Now hold that pose." He got up and pushed the door open, hoping that nobody would notice the fact that they were coming out of a stairwell, and guided the wheelchair out into the hallway. He looked ahead of them, to the lobby. It was only fifty feet away. Kyle pushed the wheelchair straight down the hall, mentally telling himself to look as if he knew exactly what he was doing and had every right to be doing it. But he was certain he would run into Brawn or Brains or the guy who had first ushered him up to Brie's room. If that happened, it was all over.

When they reached the lobby, a few people glanced at them, but nothing more. He pushed her straight over to the wheelchair access door, fighting the impulse to break into a run, and they went down the ramp. As soon as they were out in the parking lot, Kyle broke into a trot, weaving the wheelchair in and out of the rows of parked cars, keeping a sharp eye out for anyone who might try to stop them.

"This feels good," Briana said, her nun's habit billowing around her in the cool breeze. It was dusk, and the temperature felt like it was somewhere in the low sixties.

It only took them a minute to reach the jeep. He scooped her up and set her in the front seat, then rolled the wheelchair in between a couple of parked cars and jumped in the driver's side.

"Just hang in there, Brie," he said. "You're going to make it."

Chapter 17

When they were about five minutes away from the marina, Briana looked over at Kyle and spoke for the first time since they had left the hospital.

"I don't think I can swim."

He had hoped that she would have perked up a little when they got closer to the lake, like she had the day before, but she looked worse than ever.

"You don't have to swim," Kyle said. "I brought my dad's scuba gear. I'm going to take you down to the cave myself."

She looked skeptical, and Kyle knew why. His father only had enough gear for one diver.

"We can share the air tank," Kyle said. At that moment, he noticed a pair of headlights in his rearview mirror. He slowed down a little bit. Whoever it was slowed down, too, leaving a gap of maybe ten car lengths between them.

"Uh-oh," Kyle said.

"What's wrong?" Briana asked.

"I think somebody's following us."

They were approaching the road that led to the marina, which was on the right. Kyle turned on his left-hand turn signal and pulled into the left lane. He watched the other car through the rearview mirror. Its turn signal didn't come on, but Kyle saw it slowly move into the left lane behind him.

He immediately flipped his turn signal lever over to the right and pulled over into the right-hand lane.

At first, the car continued on into the left-hand lane, but slowly edged its way back to the right.

Kyle slammed his fist against the steering wheel. In an instant, everything became clear to him. He knew it had all been too easy. He reddened with humiliation, feeling exactly like the naive college boy that Brawn and Brains saw him as. All that cloak-and-dagger crap with the nun's habit was a complete waste of time. He should have known that they would have had a backup plan, just in case he hadn't shown them the real location of the spring. They had just been patiently watching and waiting for him to lead them to it.

"What are we going to do?" Briana said, as Kyle pulled up to the stop sign. The car slowly pulled up behind him. Kyle could barely make out the silhouette of two men's heads through the rearview mirror.

"I don't know," he muttered. He couldn't tell what kind of car it was, but it looked big. He was sure it could outrun his jeep.

But...

He looked down at the shift lever that put the jeep into four-wheel drive, then looked over at Briana. "Maybe you better sit down on the floor."

She seemed to understand what he planned to do. She slid down onto the floor in front of her seat and rolled into a ball.

He turned right and headed towards the marina, watching the headlights in his mirror. The car stuck close to them now, as if the occupants knew he was about to try to lose them. When he came to the road that led down to the boat ramp, instead of turning, he continued to go straight ahead, toward a fenced-in area where large sailboats and trailers were kept. He followed the road around a curve until the gate came into view. It was closed, as he knew it would be. There was a small rock wall on both sides of the road that led to the gate. Short enough for the jeep to jump over, but too tall for a regular automobile. At least, Kyle hoped so.

"Hold on," he told Briana, dropping the shift-lever into four-wheel drive.

Kyle stomped on the accelerator and they zoomed directly toward the gate. He glanced in the rearview mirror—the car behind them had closed gap even more. It now trailed only ten or twenty feet behind.

At the last possible moment, Kyle jerked the wheel to the left. The jeep swerved and lurched over the rock wall, bouncing and bucking violently. Briana let out a muffled shriek. He could hear tires screeching behind him. Through the mirror, he glimpsed the pursuing car as it lurched over the wall, or attempted to. The front end made it, but the rest of the vehicle was too low-slung to pass over it. Sparks flew from under its belly as it slid along the wall, like a derailed train. Two seconds later, it slammed into the chain link fence and came to an abrupt stop.

The jeep careened up the grass-covered hill for a few seconds before Kyle got it under control. Briana was still screaming—he knew all the bouncing and vibration must have been excruciatingly painful for her, but there was nothing else he could do. When he reached the corner of the fenced-in area, he turned right and began to slowly pick his way through the thick woods towards the water.

Chapter 18

It was a good fifteen minutes before Kyle finally found that they had reached an impasse. A huge fallen maple tree blocked their path. The top of it went all the way down to the water, and the other end was rooted in a gully so deep that Kyle was afraid he might cause the jeep to overturn if he tried to go around it. But he had driven at least a mile from the marina, maybe farther, following the curve of the lake around to a point within swimming distance of the cave.

He turned off the lights. Briana let out a long groan. She was still curled up in a ball in front of the passenger seat.

"Are you all right?" Kyle said, helping her up.

"I'm okay," she said weakly. She leaned back against the head-rest and gazed out through the woods at the water. The moon was out, about half-full. In the dim light, her face looked as white as porcelain.

"I'll get the scuba gear," Kyle said, but she took hold of his arm before he could get out.

"Kyle," she said, "I can't make it. I really can't."

"You'll make it, Brie. You have to think positively."

"But I'm bleeding so bad." He looked down at her nun's habit. Even in the moonlight, he could see that it was soaked with blood. "Pretty soon my stomach's going to open up again and—"

"I brought some more bandages," Kyle said, as he reached into the back seat and pulled out a paper bag. He got out of the jeep and went around to her side and opened the door. He ripped open one of the boxes of elastic gauze, and before she could protest, pulled up the bottom of her nun's habit and started wrapping the bandage tightly around her thigh, not bothering to remove the blood-soaked bandage that was already there. When he finished, he gently pulled the bloody black garment over her head and tossed it into the bushes, leaving her only in her hospital gown. The thin, light blue material was blood-drenched from the waist down.

"Let's do your stomach now," Kyle said, helping her lean forward. He tore open another box of gauze, reached under her gown, and wrapped the bandage around and around her midsection. He ripped open two more boxes of bandages and repeated the process. "That ought to do," he said, when he finished. He glanced down at his blood-soaked hands and arms—they looked like he had just delivered a baby.

He went around to the back of the jeep and started loading himself down with the scuba equipment—a tank, regulator, mask, fins, a weight belt, and an underwater light. Just as he set the light on the ground, he heard the tell-tale _chop-chop-chop_ sound of a helicopter somewhere in the distance.

He stepped around to the front of the jeep and scanned the horizon in all directions, but couldn't see much through all the treetops. The sound got louder and louder. Suddenly, a searchlight beam shot down out of the sky off to the left. The chopper was hovering just above the shoreline, perhaps a half-mile away.

Briana looked over at him, her face pale and frightened.

"Sit tight," Kyle said. "I'll be back in a minute." He gathered up the scuba gear and toted it down to the water, keeping an eye on the helicopter. The chopper was steadily moving towards them, running its searchlight back and forth along the rocky shoreline. At the opposite end of the lake, perhaps three miles away, he saw a faint cluster of lights and what he thought to be another helicopter. It was in the same spot where he had told Brawn and Brains the cave was located, at least two miles from the true location.

Kyle hid the gear under some bushes and went back to the jeep. He had brought a cooler from home, and he unloaded it and set it on the ground. Inside was a bag of ice and eight sterile baby bottles he had bought when he had gotten the bandages.

Kyle began dumping the ice into the cooler and packed the bottles in it.

"You think it will work?" Briana said, understanding what he was planning.

"It has to work," Kyle said, glancing through the woods at the helicopter. It was no more than 200 yards away. He wasn't worried about their spotting the jeep—the trees were so thick he was sure it was completely hidden—but they would be completely exposed out on the shore. He trotted down to the water this time, dropped the cooler in the bushes, and ran back to get Briana.

He slipped his hands underneath her bandaged torso and legs and picked her up. She put her arms around his neck, and he wove his way through the woods as fast as he could without dropping her. She felt like she weighed no more than 80 pounds.

He was aware of her looking up at him, her face plaster-white in the moonlight.

"Kyle?" she whispered, as he slowed down to step over a log.

"What?" he said.

"I'm sorry I said you were a major snooze."

"It's all right," Kyle said.

"If I don't make it, I want you to know that I—"

"Shhh," he said. "Don't talk like that. You're going to make it. Just hang in there."

When they reached the water, he set her down gently on a rock. The helicopter was now only about 50 yards away, rounding the point where Briana had entered the water the day before, where the fisherman had been.

Kyle stripped to his underwear and threw his clothes into the bushes, then started putting on the scuba equipment. After he strapped on the tank, the fins, and the mask, he reached behind his head and opened the tank's air valve. He held out the hose to Briana. "You remember how to be breathing partners?"

"I remember," she said softly.

He stuck the hose into his mouth and took a few breaths to make sure it was working.

She laughed, surprising him.

"What's the matter?" he said.

"You look like the Creature from the Black Lagoon."

Kyle smiled, not because he thought it was funny, but because he hadn't heard her laugh all day.

Kyle glanced over at the cooler. He had planned to take it down with them, but now that he had put on all the scuba gear, it didn't seem feasible. He would have to come back by himself and get it while Briana was in the cave, nursing her wounds.

Kyle hid the cooler behind some bushes. He glanced up at the helicopter—it was still getting closer. Hopefully, they wouldn't spot the jeep while he was gone.

He handed Briana the underwater flashlight. "Can you hold this while we go down?"

She nodded. He picked her up in his arms again and carried her into the water. Now, he really did feel like the Creature from the Black Lagoon, slipping and sliding on the rocks with his fins, descending into the murkiness, carrying a bleeding, blonde maiden in his arms.

When the water was up to Kyle's waist, the helicopter's searchlight swept dangerously close to them. He could even feel wind from the chopper's rotor as it sent ripples across the surface of the water. "Hold your breath," he said, as he leaned forward. They both slipped into the chilly water. He immediately pulled her down to the bottom. A few seconds later, the searchlight beam whisked across the water above them, creating a blinding white flash. He only hoped the water was too cloudy to see through.

He started swimming along the muddy lake bottom, pulling her with him. He kept one hand around her waist and followed the downward slope out into the middle of the lake, handing the air regulator to her and taking it back every thirty seconds or so. As they went deeper, the water felt ice cold.

After a couple of minutes, he was astonished to find that Briana had started swimming herself. Within a minute or two, she was pulling him along. She slowed down a little bit, handed him the regulator, and after he put it into his mouth, she surged ahead again, picking up even more speed.

The green water's got hold of her, he thought.

He stopped kicking, realizing that now it was only slowing them down. She drove them both forward faster and faster, the water pulling hard on the oxygen tank, the weight belt, and his fins. He had trouble relaxing, afraid that she would bump into something in the dark, but he knew she was tuned into some kind of internal homing signal that would lead to her sacred spring.

He closed his eyes and finally felt himself relax, letting her pull him deeper and deeper into the blackness, picking up more and more speed, the water roaring past his ears...

In that moment, he completely trusted her, and he felt a strange sense of inner peace.

They soon began to slow down. He sensed that they were approaching the opening of the cave. Not a second later, he felt the tentacle-like thing brush against his legs, as he had the first time.

Briana turned on the flashlight. The opening of the cave was no more than a jagged, two-foot wide hole in the rocks. He glanced below and let out a small underwater shriek. There was a huge catfish lying just underneath the opening. It was fat as a hog, its mouth open, its lips pulsating slowly, revealing a few teeth that looked like miniature elephant tusks. Kyle's skin crawled as he realized that he had brushed his leg against one of its thick, spindly whiskers, which were splayed out a couple of feet on either side of its head.

Briana nudged him and motioned for him to swim through the opening. He didn't move, wondering if there were more catfish—or worse—on the other side. She seemed to understand his fear and handed him the flashlight, then swam through the opening herself. She looked like an injured mermaid in her bloody hospital gown, swimming gracefully through the water, her bandages leaking blood that left swirling, smoke-like trails.

She extended her hand through the opening to help him. Just before he started to join her, the flashlight beam shined on something that scared him even more than the catfish. A boulder was poised precariously above and to the left of the opening, one edge propped up on another large, triangular-shaped rock. The boulder looked like it weighed a couple of tons. If it slipped, it would completely block their exit.

Kyle heard the sounds of Briana yelling at him underwater. Before he could protest, she grabbed his wrist, her grip now strong, and literally dragged him through the opening. He reached for the air regulator, but she yanked him upwards before he could get a hold of it. They quickly accelerated again. Fighting the pull of the water, Kyle finally managed to get the regulator in his mouth. A moment later, they broke through to the surface at the same spot they had the first time, in the big room full of stalactites.

Briana let out a gleeful shriek and helped Kyle climb out of the water. He took off all the scuba gear and laid it down on the rocks, catching his breath. She led him away from the water, up the flat boulder, towards the green light. They soon weaved their way through the gigantic plants and over to the shimmering pool of green water.

Briana threw herself into it, thrashing around, rolling over and over, drinking greedily. "Thank you, God!" she yelled, her voice echoing crisply off the cave walls.

Kyle just watched her for a while. She waded out into the water until it was up to her neck, then discarded the hospital gown. It floated on the surface for a few seconds, then disappeared into the greenness. She began to carefully unravel her bandages, moaning softly. But it was a moan of pleasure, not of pain.

She became so engrossed in what she was doing that she seemed to forget Kyle was there.

"Well," he said, "I better go back and get the cooler."

She turned his way, then cupped a handful of the green water and held it out to him. "Are you sure you don't want to..."

"No," Kyle said, but with regret.

Briana looked disappointed and let the glowing liquid run out of her hand and back into the pool.

"I'll be back soon, okay?" Kyle said.

Briana looked at Kyle as if she didn't want him to leave, but then said, "Okay."

Chapter 19

Kyle swam back out through the opening of the cave, being careful to steer clear of the catfish. He didn't quite have his bearings, so he decided to swim directly up to the surface and then across to where he had left the cooler—that way, he wouldn't have to use as much oxygen.

He flipped off the flashlight, in case the helicopter was nearby, and swam upward. It only took him a couple of minutes to reach the surface. When his head emerged into the cool night air, he at once heard the sound of choppers. He saw nothing but darkness, however. He was disoriented for a moment, then realized he was facing the cliffs.

When he turned the other way, his heart sank.

A helicopter had landed on the shore, right in the spot where he had left the cooler. Beyond it, there were other lights, men, vehicles. He could hear dogs barking faintly.

They had found the jeep, too.

Now what? Kyle thought, his mind racing ahead. There was another helicopter to his left, this one shining its searchlight along the edge of the cliffs, and another about a half-mile away, also moving in his direction.

He dunked his head back under the water and descended again.

Chapter 20

A few minutes later, Kyle made his way back into the cavern where Briana was, still wearing all the scuba gear, except for the fins. The mask was hanging around his neck.

Briana didn't even notice him. She was standing waist-high in the pool, completely naked, her wounds now gone, spinning around in circles, her arms outstretched, eyes closed, singing softly to herself. He watched her for a few minutes, spellbound. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

She suddenly stopped, aware of his presence, and opened her eyes. When she saw him, she covered her breasts with her arms, looking self-conscious.

"Where's the cooler?" she said.

"It's...it's in the other room," Kyle said, motioning over his shoulder.

"Oh," she said. She seemed to sense something was wrong, but this only lasted momentarily. She was soon lost in her euphoria again. She smiled and lowered her arms, then spun around and around, slinging glowing green droplets in every direction. "I feel wonderful!" she shrieked.

He watched her play for a few minutes, knowing that she was happier than he had ever seen her in his life. A lump formed in his throat.

"Brie?" he said softly.

She stopped splashing. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

Her eyes, now green as emeralds, widened with surprise. "I know that!" She grinned, then spun around again, flinging one arm up towards the ceiling. A stream of the phosphorescent water streaked through the air like a green meteor. She started singing again, becoming completely engrossed in her euphoria.

He watched her play for a few more minutes, then slowly made his way back to the opening that led to the first room.

He took one last, long look at her, and he left.

Chapter 21

Kyle swam out through the cave's opening and set the flashlight on an algae-covered rock that was about twenty feet away. The catfish was still there, as if guarding the entrance. Kyle positioned the flashlight so that its beam shined back against the crevice. He spotted a tree branch that was stuck in the mud on the bottom, and swam down to pull it free. He glided back up to the opening and stuck the end of the branch underneath the boulder he had seen earlier.

He hesitated only for a moment, considering what he was about to do, then began to pull on the branch. At first, he thought the boulder wouldn't budge, but after a few grunts and kicks, he managed to gain enough leverage with the branch to rock it back and forth a little bit. Tiny swirls of mud fell away from underneath it. He kept rocking it, driving himself against the tree branch with all his might in a steady, rhythmic motion.

All at once, there was a deep, cracking sound.

The boulder slid sideways a few inches, but stopped again. He started to give it another push, but it suddenly broke free and tumbled downward, as if in slow motion. Kyle scrambled to get out of its way. It slammed against the rock ledge that formed part of the cave opening, then rolled over again. There was a long, grinding rumble as it slid across the opening.

It finally came to a stop, completely sealing the crevice.

Kyle gazed at it for a moment, tears in his eyes, and then picked up the flashlight and swam towards the surface. He could see searchlights above him, crisscrossing the water. He turned and started to swim horizontally, following the edge of the cliffs, breathing slowly and steadily through the regulator. He would swim and swim and swim, as long as the oxygen would last, until he was far away from the searchlights and the helicopters and all the government men.

And then he would walk.

To purchase the sequel to this book, Wild Child, Book 2 - Lilith, please  go to this page.

### A LETTER TO MY READERS

Hello, Dear Reader!

I hope you enjoyed this book. I write in a variety of genres—thrillers & suspense, romance, young adult, and horror. As I say on my website, my goal has always been to write novels that are so engaging and entertaining that you can't stop reading after a couple of pages—"unputdownable" novels. You can read all my book descriptions and read/download free chapters at www.mikewellsbooks.com. Be sure and sign up to my  VIP Reader List (free) so you'll receive news about upcoming books and giveaways.

Also, if you enjoyed this book, I would greatly appreciate your help with spreading the word about what I have to offer. Positive word-of-mouth for independent authors like me is crucial. Please pass this book along to your family and friends—give it to anyone who you think would enjoy it.

I always welcome comments about my books—please feel free to give feedback via email (mike@mikewellsbooks.com) or via my website/blog. Book reviews are also appreciated.

Thanks for reading and have a great day!

Mike Wells

P.S. Please follow me on Twitter, Facebook and Goodreads.

### About the Author

Mike Wells is an American bestselling author of over 20 thriller and suspense novels, including _Lust, Money & Murde_r and _Passion, Power & Sin_. He is also known for his young adult books, such as _The Mysterious Disappearance of Kurt Kramer_ , _The Wrong Side of the Tracks_ , and _Wild Child_ , which are used by English teachers in high schools and colleges worldwide. Formerly a screenwriter, Wells has a fast-paced, cinematic writing style. His work is often compared to that of the late Sidney Sheldon, with strong and inspiring female heroes, tightly-written scenes, engaging action/dialogue, and numerous plot twists. He currently lives in Europe and has taught in the Creative Writing program at the University of Oxford.

### ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Editor

Anna Wells

Copy Editing and Proofreading

Sandy Penny and Dax M. Tucker

### ABOUT THE COVER ILLUSTRATION

In 1998, before the first edition of "Wild Child" was published, I decided to hold a student art competition to see if I could find someone to create a good cover illustration for the book. As Wild Child was written about young people, and for young people, I figured that a young person might come up with the best cover design.

I limited the competition to students in the Atlanta area, where I was living at the time, and received 150 entries. The best illustration--the one that I thought most perfectly captured the essence of the the Wild Child characters and story--was submitted by a 17 year old named Seron Fuller, a student at North Atlanta High School. (See his self-portrait, below right)

When I met Seron in person to present him with his cash prize, I was impressed. He seemed very ambitious, determined to become a successful artist. When I asked him how long he had been drawing and painting, he said, "Ever since I learned to walk." He had already received numerous awards in the field of art, including winning a trip t the 1994 Lillehammer Olympic Games, winning the 1996 EPA Water Week Poster Design Contest, winning first place in Atlanta's 1996 Anti-Violence Poster Contest, and winning the 1997 Atlanta Jamboree Dream Cover Art Contest. He had also exhibited his work at several libraries and colleges and had painted three gymnasium murals.

When I asked Seron what his plans were after he graduated from high school, he told me that his dream was to work as an illustrator for a major Hollywood movie studio. As impressed as I was with his drive and talent, I thought he might be setting a goal that was a bit too ambitious-what successful illustrator wouldn't want to work for a major Hollywood movie studio? The competition for such positions had to be incredible.

Seron Fuller is now an illustrator at Paramount Pictures.

You can see more of his work on his website at <http://www.cashkernelonline.com/>

