Silverwing by Kenneth Oppel Page B

himself, battering it with his head, trying to sink his claws into the hard, slippery surface. But it was hopeless.
    Then, one night, he’d noticed a current of cool air moving through the jungle. Circling, he’d found the source. In the black ceiling was a small metal grate, through which he could feel a draft. He’d tried desperately to squeeze his body through one of the slits, but he was too large, even with his wings folded tight against his sides. He’d have to move the whole grate. And it would be much faster with help.
    “Do you want to get out of here?” he’d asked the other bat.
    “Of course,” replied Throbb warily. “But how?”
    “Work with me, and you’ll soon be free in the jungle.”
    So, night after night, when the Humans had left, the two bats flew up to the grate and, with their claws and teeth, chipped away bits of cement and plaster around the edges. Every night the grate was a little looser.
    Now, he watched as the Man tipped a dozen white mice onto the ground. He shut the door and sat down behind the invisible wall, watching. Goth stared back at him, hating him. Why didn’t he go away? Did he have to watch everything?
    Throbb was already pouncing down on the mice, trying desperately to eat as many as he could before Goth showed up. Goth had no appetite, but knew he would need all his strength tonight. He fed quickly, sometimes breaking their necks with a quick chop of his jaws, sometimes swallowing them whole, so he could feel them wriggling down his throat.
    “Go back to your roost and pretend to sleep,” he hissed at Throbb.
    Hanging upside down, one eye open just a slit, Goth waited in agony. He tried to think of his coming freedom. He would fly back into the jungle and rejoin his family. He’d become a great hero, escaped from the Humans’ prison!
    Finally the Man stood and walked away, and darkness fell behind the invisible wall. Goth lit from his roost.
    “Now!”
    Together, they flew to the ceiling, locking claws around the metal grate. They strained with all their might to drag it loose, but still it held fast.
    “Put your wings into it!” growled Goth.
    They unfurled their wings, and began beating them furiously, driving back from the ceiling. Dust showered Goth’s fur.
    “Harder!” he roared at Throbb. “Harder if you want your freedom!”
    They heaved again and Goth felt the grate give way in a cascade of rubble. It was heavier than he’d bargained for, and his wings buckled. He plunged backward with Throbb, the grate riding on top of them. Throbb twisted out from underneath and swooped clear, but Goth’s claws were still caught around the metal slits.
    “Zotz!” he roared. And suddenly his claws ripped free and he flipped over onto his side and away. The grate pounded into the damp earth.
    Goth clung to a vine, waiting for his heart to slow. Zotz had come to his rescue.
    “Are you all right?” he heard Throbb call out.
    “No thanks to you.”
    But he was in too much of a hurry to waste time beating Throbb. He flew to the hole, clung to the edge, and poked his head up. A cool breeze played on his slick fur. He sang out and let the returning echo draw a picture in his head.
    It was a metal shaft, leading straight up. It was too narrow for them to even spread their wings. Walls too smooth for their claws.
    “We’ll have to fly straight up.”
    Throbb whimpered doubtfully.
    “Stay behind if you want,” Goth said, folding his wingtips in. The strain on his bones was tremendous as he pounded the air furiously, wings a blur, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five beats a second, his heart beating just as fast.
    And he was rising up into the shaft, rising like a dark angel from the Underworld, up and up, jaws grinding in exertion, saliva bubbling at the corners of his mouth. He heard nothingbut the volcanic roar of his heart. Just when he thought his wings would snap, the shaft suddenly opened into a horizontal tunnel. He dropped gasping to the flat metal surface.
    No time