In one part of the complex, a lake had formed in a low spot when the ocean had receded after the tsunami. The result was an Olympic-sized natural swimming pool that was cut off from the danger of open water. I watched other Aquatics splashing around, flicking their fins happily.

“Max,” Nudge whispered. “Doesn’t it remind you of…?”

I nodded. This mutant kid utopia reminded me exactly of the paradise we’d first believed our island to be, and that’s what made me nervous.

Because we all know how well that turned out.

I found Rizal at the communal table, surrounded by elaborate platters of fish, more fish, soup with fish in it, and then for dessert, like, fish. I slid into the seat across from him. He looked mildly annoyed, but he didn’t ask me to leave.

“Let’s talk about the huge, kid-eating eels of death,” I said conversationally.

Rizal was distracted with his dinner and barely looked up. “Hmm?”

“The giant eely-snake things that turned Jonny Diamond into Swiss cheese?” I prompted.

“Oh, them.” Rizal shoved a large spoonful of stew into his mouth. “Lampreys.”

“Lampreys aren’t that big. So I’m assuming they’re weird, gigantic, mutant lampreys. At any rate, no one seems too bothered that those lampreys just reduced your number by six.” I stared at him impatiently.

“It happens,” he said, chewing. “We tend to lose someone every few days.”

“Every few days?” I repeated, gaping at him.

Rizal shrugged. “Generally, they only pick off the less advanced.”

“There’s always someone in the group who’s a little vulnerable,” Jonny had said. That was supposed to be me, and would’ve been, if I hadn’t had the oxygen tank he’d insisted I take.

“Have some sashimi,” Rizal said, spearing some hunks with his knife and plopping them in front of me. “The eel is terrific.”

My mind flashed back to that horrible image of Jonny—the moment he stopped struggling against the lamprey. Nauseated, I pushed away the plate and left the table.

I needed to think—which meant I needed to fly.

Unfurling my wings, which had been folded up all day, I pushed off and rose up toward the glass ceiling. My feathers twitched as I tried to imagine myself flying in circles around these walls, day after day. I was already feeling claustrophobic.

Cruising high above the chatter, I went over everything Jonny had said earlier that morning. I needed something to make it easier to cope, a moral to take away from this, and my thoughts drifted back to the flock.

Like Iggy, Jonny had needed a resolution. Like Gazzy, he had been building tools to fight, instead of hide. And like Angel, he had been sure there was more to be done.

I’m not saying I was wrong, before—I’d never say that—but maybe I could understand a little better why my flock had insisted on leaving.