BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (83)
  1. Copyright Page
  2. Prologue
  3. Part One
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. Part Two
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. 74
  79. 75
  80. 76
  81. Epilogue
  82. A Preview of "Witch & Wizard"
  83. 1

He launched himself at me.

That was when his day really went downhill.

It didn’t last that long — maybe four minutes. Which can feel like a long time when someone’s whaling on you. Not to malign the U.S. Navy or anything, but he didn’t land a single blow. Maybe he was having an off day. Finally, we resumed our earlier position: me leaning over him as he gasped on the floor.

“It’s not your fault,” I said, not even breathing hard. “I’m genetically enhanced. And, you know, ruthless. Plus, of course, meaner than a rabid wolverine. Are you okay?”

After a long pause, he nodded silently.

I jerked a thumb at the rest of the flock. “Do you want to try it against any of them?”

Everyone except Fang failed at not looking hopeful. The guy shook his head no.

“Good choice. Then how about you give us a checkmark saying we passed the self-defense part of the BS? Okay?”

He nodded again.

I looked at the others. “Is it lunchtime yet? I’m starving.”

Iggy felt his watch. “It’s a little past nine. In the morning,” he clarified.

I groaned. “Okay, let’s find some vending machines. I need, like, about a million Twinkies.”

It looked like we might be finished by four, after all.

35

Q: You’re presented with a smooth-faced, eight-foot-high wooden wall. Your objective? Get over it. To, like, save comrades or something. How to accomplish this?

A: Take a running start, brace one foot against the wall, throw one hand to the top, try to hang on long enough for a comrade to either grab your hand at the top or for another comrade to push your butt over from below. It takes teamwork!

BKA (bird-kid answer): Or, you could just, like, fly over it.

Q: Twenty yards of dirt to crawl across on your belly. The catch? Rows and rows of barbed wire, strung eighteen inches off the ground. How do you get across without being snagged?

A: Do the “sniper” crawl. Be sure not to raise your butt or shoulders or head too high. Ouch.

BKA: What can I say? We’ve been crawling like rats and slithering like snakes for years. How else to sneak up on each other, hiding beneath the bed frame to grab Iggy’s ankle when he gets up for a drink of water? Plus, we’re really thin. If we keep our wings tucked in tight, no worries.

Q: Is there anything a bird kid can’t do?

A: No. Apparently not.

BKA: Well, we still totally fall down in the table-manners department. I’m just saying.

Rope swings over quicksand, wading through rivers while holding weapons above our heads, balancing on spinning logs, climbing ropes, running fast, crawling through tunnels — we were starting to seriously depress our fellow naval classmates, all of whom were older than us and had already been in training for a while.