The Secret Sea by Barry Lyga Page A

exclaimed.
    â€œThe windows don’t open,” Moira said witheringly.
    â€œI can’t just go,” Zak said. But the weight of the bag—his clothes, his shoes—tempted him. “I’m on a heart monitor. An alarm will go off.”
    â€œI already turned off the alarm. I Googled the manual.”
    â€œBut where do we go once we’re out of here?”
    Moira stared. It was the same look she always gave them when they were all doing math homework together and Zak and Khalid just. Didn’t. Get it.
    â€œWe have to go to the subway,” she said. “Preferably close to the Freedom Tower, but it probably doesn’t matter, since you had a vision at the Canal Street stop.”
    Zak and Khalid looked at each other, then looked at Moira.
    â€œGo on,” Khalid prompted. “For the dummies in the room.”
    â€œIt’s obvious—the voice is stronger when you’re asleep, yes, but we can’t force you to sleep. So we do the next best thing. The voice and the visions are also strong when you’re underground. Probably because that gets you closer to where the ship was buried. So we have to take you down into the subway. Duh,” she finished for good measure.
    â€œThat’s amazing,” Khalid said in awe. Zak nodded in agreement as Moira began unhooking the various wires from him.
    â€œPuh-lease.” Moira sniffed. “Anyone who’s ever read a comic book would have figured it out.”
    Zak nodded slowly and said, “All right, guys. Turn around.”
    â€œWhy?” Moira asked, annoyed.
    â€œBecause in order to get dressed,” Zak said with a grin, “first I have to get naked.”
    Moira’s eyebrows shot up, and her face flamed almost as red as her hair. She quickly turned away as Zak peeled back the sheet.

 
    THIRTEEN
    Unsteady on his feet for the first time in days, Zak weaved a little. Khalid and Moira persuaded him to try a few practice laps around his room before they would open the door. After three or four turns, he felt confident.
    His heart seemed to throb more noticeably than usual. Was it an aftereffect of the “cardiac event”? Or was he just paying more attention to it because it had failed him?
    â€œYou getting the hang of this walking thing?” Khalid asked.
    â€œI’m fine,” Zak lied. “Let’s go.”
    He anticipated guards shouting and nurses sounding alarms as soon as he left the room, but nothing happened. No one spared a look for the three kids casually strolling down the corridor. Zak suffered a pang of terror as they rounded the first corner, wondering if he might walk into his parents or his doctor or Dr. Campbell. He hissed in a breath and forced himself not to squeeze Moira’s hand, which she insisted he hold. But the new hallway was empty, save for an orderly mopping the floor, and they pushed into a stairwell. Soon they were out on the street.
    Zak tilted his face to the sun. It was late in the day, but it was summer and the sun, low in the sky, still emitted warm light. After days of air-conditioning, the humidity outside wrapped around him like a living blanket trying to smother him. He breathed through the initial surprise, focused on the heat from the sun, silently ordered his heart to behave.
    â€œSubway’s this way,” Khalid said. Zak scarcely paid attention. He let them lead him along the sidewalks, enfolded in the damp air that smelled of car exhaust, barbecued chicken kebabs from a nearby food cart, half-melted road tar, and the tang of his own sudden sweat. Buses belched; the sidewalks vibrated with a million footfalls; ten languages spoken at top volume assaulted his ears.
    Through it, past it, beyond it, he sought the voice, Tommy, his twin. Come back , he pleaded. I didn’t know who you were. I’m sorry I let you get away. If you come back, I’ll never let you go again. Just come back.
    â€œHere we go.…” Khalid