Forever Begins Tomorrow Read online

  Come on, Trip, Hap thought desperately. Get us out of this mess!

  Several feet below him, Trip was trying to do just that. Glancing up from the link he was trying to sever, he saw that the slowly retracting chain had pulled his friends beneath the rain-spattered ocean surface.

  Angrily he redoubled his efforts with the torch. He had to get them loose!

  “They’re under again!” cried Wendy, who had spotted Hap just in time to see him disappear beneath the waves.

  “Hold your course, Rachel!” yelled Roger. “We’ve got to get over to them!”

  “I can’t!” cried his twin. “It’s too—”

  Rachel’s words were cut off by a huge wave washing over the side of the boat.

  Rachel clung to the wheel.

  Roger clung to Rachel.

  Wendy had nothing to cling to. When the wave was gone, so was she.

  Four of the gang were in the water now. The storm continued to rage, the waves growing higher and higher.

  And as the transmitter pulled him deeper into the water, Hap Swenson looked up to see the enormous shark circling overhead.

  I’ve heard of being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, he thought bitterly, but this is ridiculous.

  His conviction that things could not possibly get worse was proved wrong when a panel slid aside on the front of the transmitter Ray was clutching so tenaciously.

  Beneath the panel was a glowing time display.

  Its numbers were changing, counting down from 60.

  When they hit 55 the transmitter itself began to glow.

  Hap’s stomach tightened into a painful knot. Black Glove’s transmitters had a habit of self-destructing once discovered. He had a sudden, terrible feeling that this one was about to do the same thing.

  Only this time it was going to happen in a very big way.

  And Ray was still clutching the bomb as tightly as ever.

  Missing in Action

  Several miles from the life-and-death struggles of the A.I. Gang a short woman slipped quietly into the office of Project Alpha’s director, Dr. Hwa.

  Though she had long ago memorized the location of every one of the sixteen secret alarms hidden in the room, the woman was still nervous as she made her way toward the scientist’s desk. The reason was simple: She had no right to be here. At least, she thought, not at this time, or under these circumstances.

  Still, she had a job to do, and she was willing to take whatever risks were necessary to do it right.

  Circling to the back of the large mahogany desk that stood near the window, she tried one of the drawers.

  Locked.

  No matter. She pulled a slender piece of metal from the sole of her shoe and inserted it in the crack at the top of the drawer. The latch resisted her for a moment. Then she gave the little strip of metal a well-practiced twist.

  Smoothly and silently the drawer slid open.

  Smiling slightly, the woman pulled a sheaf of papers from the drawer and began to scan through them. After a moment she threw them down in disgust.

  Nothing!

  She unlocked another drawer and tried again.

  The results were no better.

  Nor were they improved by her third and fourth efforts.

  It was the fifth drawer that yielded results.

  The woman chuckled as she spread the papers out on Dr. Hwa’s desk. It was so amusing of the good doctor to assume that his “private” papers were safe here in his own office.

  How little he really knew!

  Humming softly to herself, she took a microcamera from her pocket and began to photograph the secret documents. As she shot each page, she glanced quickly over it. Suddenly she stopped and picked up the paper she was photographing to read it more carefully.

  A strange expression crossed her face.

  Moving as quickly as she could, she took the last three photos, returned the papers to their proper place, and ran from the room.

  Wendy’s first reaction when she was swept overboard was raw panic. That lasted about two seconds—as long as it took her to decide that since she was in the soup already, she might as well make the best of it and try to help the others.

  With no further hesitation she kicked off her shoes, peeled off her sweatshirt, and began swimming toward the spot where Hap and Ray had gone under.

  She hadn’t forgotten there was an enormous shark circling the area. It just wasn’t as important as the fact that her friends needed help.

  Several feet below the surface Trip continued to work furiously at the chain. As it pulled them deeper the clear water grew ever more dark and mysterious; it reminded Trip of the time he and Hap had been trapped in a tidal shaft in the island’s power plant.

  He grimaced. It was Ray who had gotten them out then. Now it was their turn; they had to get him loose!

  Trip looked up. The water at this level was so dark he didn’t expect to find much more than shadows.

  To his amazement, he saw a bright light above him.

  Amazement turned to horror as he realized that the metal sphere Ray was clutching had started to glow like a small sun.

  He redoubled his efforts with the torch. He didn’t know what that ball was, but he had a gut-deep conviction that it would be very unhealthy for them to be around it much longer.

  Above him, Hap was struggling desperately to disengage Ray’s grip from the deadly transmitter.

  Damn thing must have been set to go into action as soon as anyone tampered with it. I’ve got to get Ray away from it before it does… whatever it’s going to do!

  Hap’s struggle was complicated by the fact that he had to keep one hand clamped over Ray’s nose and mouth to keep him from drowning, leaving only one hand free to try to break his friend’s grip on the transmitter.

  If only he would wake up! thought Hap desperately.

  With a sickening flash it occurred to him that Ray might never wake up. He didn’t know how long the unconscious boy had been without air—or how long he could survive that way.

  When Hap realized he was facing the unpleasant possibility of being blown to pieces trying to protect someone who was already dead, he considered letting go of Ray and swimming away as fast as he could. Something deep inside wouldn’t let him. If there was even the slightest chance his friend still lived, he had to hang on and try to save him.

  Rachel fought to control The Merry Wanderer as the storm continued to whip the ocean into a frenzy. The waves were higher than ever, the rain falling so fiercely she could barely see ten feet ahead.

  The rain was also hindering Roger, who had a life preserver in his hand and was trying to spot Wendy so he could throw it to her. Clutching the side of the boat, he found himself actually thrust into the water as they lurched over so far they were close to capsizing.

  “Hold her steady, Rachel!”

  “I’m trying!”

  But the boat tipped still farther onto its side, teetering as if it was about to go over.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” whispered Rachel through her teeth. “Stay with me. Stay with me!”

  She felt her bones shake as the boat finally slammed back into position. Almost immediately another wave caught them and tipped them sideways again.

  Suddenly a sound that had been almost lost in the roar of the storm disappeared altogether.

  “That’s it!” cried Roger. “The engine’s gone! Now we’re done for!”

  “Damn!” cried Rachel, shaking the wheel in rage.

  When the next wave struck, the twins had just enough time to take a deep breath before The Merry Wanderer went over and they were plunged into the raging water.

  Not twenty feet from Roger and Rachel, but invisible because of the storm, Wendy continued to fight her way toward the boys. The effort of trying to keep her head above the water was exhausting her, and the wild sweep of the waves, the rushing heights and the plunging depths, was making her dizzy.

  It’s as if the whole world is made of water, she thought d
esperately.

  To her horror, she spotted the shark just a few feet away. The nearness of that engine of death chilled her as no danger they had yet faced. Against her will, her mind formed an image of its great slashing mouth closing on her, severing and swallowing an arm or leg.

  Cold fear ripped through her as the shark swam past, so close that its smooth skin brushed against her leg.

  Despite her terror, her brain began to insist that something was wrong. Why is that monster still on the surface? it asked. And then: Isn’t shark skin supposed to be rough?

  Thirty feet away, and twenty feet under the waves, Ray Gammand finally ran out of air—which was what saved him from drowning.

  Previously his mind had ordered his body not to let go of the transmitter. But when his lungs began screaming for him to take a breath, powerful reflexes built in by millions of years of evolution decided to disobey that order. Releasing his death lock on the transmitter he began clawing at his face. Air! He had to get air!

  He’s alive! thought Hap jubilantly as Ray began to writhe in his arms.

  The moment of relief quickly turned to new panic. Even though he was unconscious, Ray had the adrenaline-fueled strength of someone facing death. If he managed to squirm free, if he broke Hap’s grip on his mouth and nose, the same reflexes that had forced him to let go of the ball would order him to breathe.

  And if he did that, he would fill his lungs with salty water and drown.

  Launching himself away from the glowing transmitter, Hap began a desperate race to get Ray to the surface. As he did, another worry rose to plague him: Trip, unaware of what was happening above him, was continuing to work at the chain that held the fatal transmitter. If it blew, it was bound to take him with it.

  Look up, Trip! thought Hap as he battled to keep Ray from trying to breathe before they could break the surface. Look up!

  But he had no way to get the thought into Trip’s brain.

  The shark had made a great circle and was bearing down on Wendy again.

  What a way to die, she thought bitterly. Dinner for some overgrown fish with an IQ of eight!

  But the Wonderchild was not the shark’s target. Shooting past her as if she didn’t exist, the monster plunged beneath the surface, heading straight for Trip.

  Before Wendy could begin to worry about her friend, the shark’s broad tail caught her on the back of the head, knocking her unconscious.

  Got it! thought Trip triumphantly as the chain finally separated in his hands. Now we can get out of here!

  He looked up to signal Hap and Ray.

  They were gone. In their place, heading straight toward him, was a great white shark.

  Trip’s gut wrenched, and he experienced a moment of paralyzing fear as the shark hurtled toward him. Hanging frozen in the water, his heart trying to pound its way out of his chest, he had a momentary fantasy of swinging the chain with the transmitter/bomb at the end and smashing it into the shark’s head. But what might have worked on land was useless here in the water; there was no way he could get any momentum with the ball and chain.

  Nor was there any way to outswim the creature.

  That left him no choice but to outthink it.

  Rachel and Roger were clinging to the life preserver Roger had been trying to throw to Wendy when they capsized. Both were scanning the waves for any sight of their friends.

  When the pounding rain subsided for a moment, Roger spotted the Wonderchild floating face down about forty feet away.

  Letting go of the life preserver, he began swimming in her direction. An enormous wave lifted him, then plunged him down. He shook the water out of his eyes—just in time to see Wendy disappear beneath the surface. She went down so rapidly it was as if something had actually pulled her under.

  Praying that his timing would be accurate, Trip began to pull on the chain, drawing the brightly glowing transmitter/bomb closer to him. In doing so, the gangling blond was making himself the point of an angle where two deadly forces—the shark and the bomb—would soon converge.

  Only Trip had no intention of being there when they did. With all the strength he had left, he swam down and away, hauling the bomb behind him.

  His timing wasn’t merely accurate, it was inspired. No sooner had he replaced himself with the bomb than the unwitting shark swallowed the glowing ball whole!

  Trip was still clinging to the chain when the shark struck. He felt his arm being wrenched nearly out of its socket. Whipping around, he saw that the shark had turned and was heading for the surface. It was dragging him with it.

  He let go of the chain and dropped back.

  Hap, Ray, and the shark broke through at about the same time.

  The boys were in one piece. The shark was in several thousand, most of them flying through the air.

  Well, thought Hap, once the shock wave had passed, that takes care of that.

  The storm was beginning to abate.

  Ray was in his arms—gasping for breath, but alive.

  Off to his right he saw Rachel clinging to a life preserver. Roger was splashing in the water not too far from her.

  Another splashing, this time on his left, turned out to be Trip, breaking through to the surface. Ripping off his mask, he shouted triumphantly, “Trip one, Shark nothing!”

  Hap smiled. So far, so good. But as he finished the slow circle he was making to look for his friends, a sick feeling began to twist his stomach.

  The Wonderchild was nowhere to be seen.

  A Change of Plans

  The storm was over. The sky, so dark and angry a short time ago, had become a great blue bowl arcing above the Pacific.

  Its serene beauty was lost on the five forlorn youngsters huddled on the upturned hull of The Merry Wanderer. The capsized boat, equipped with almost indestructible flotation tanks, bobbed gently on the low swells—a tiny island in a vast ocean that stretched in all directions. The only break in the universe of water was a faint line on the horizon that the gang desperately hoped was Anza-bora.

  How far from home did the storm sweep us? wondered Trip dismally. The endless water made him nervous. Seeking escape from it, he looked up. All he saw was more blue. Lowering his gaze, he rejoined his friends in scanning the empty sea for any sign of their lost companion.

  Strain as they would, their anxious eyes could find no trace of the Wonderchild.

  “You know what I think?” asked Hap. He hesitated, half-expecting Wendy to interrupt him with a wisecrack.

  “What?” asked Rachel softly.

  He sighed. “I think we had too much good luck at the beginning. It left us feeling a little too sure of ourselves, as if nothing could really—” He broke off, his voice catching in his throat.

  “Do you think she’s really gone?” asked Ray. The idea seemed impossible to believe.

  “I don’t know,” said Roger, his voice dead and lifeless. “One minute she was there, the next…”

  “She was—is—a pretty good swimmer,” said Rachel. “She could still be out there someplace!”

  She shivered at the thought of Wendy lost somewhere in the vast ocean—alone, exhausted, trying desperately to stay afloat.

  Grim as that image was, it was far better than the alternatives they were all trying not to think about: that the Wonderchild had drowned during the storm, or been eaten by the shark.

  “What are you going to tell her parents, Roger?” asked Trip.

  Roger started to protest, then bit back the comment. Trip was right; as unofficial leader of the gang, eventually the unpleasant task of speaking to Wendy’s parents would fall to him. The thought of facing Dr. Wendell and Dr. Watson to tell them what had happened today made his stomach turn flip-flops.

  The others were looking at him, waiting for an answer.

  “I don’t want to think about it now!” he said sharply. “I’m not going to think about it until there’s no hope left. And I refuse to accept that idea yet.”

  Despite his bold words, the truth was that he couldn’t
help but think about it, and the idea left him cold with dread.

  “We should have left that stupid transmitter alone,” said Rachel bitterly. “What difference does it make to us if information gets leaked? We’ve tried and tried to convince Dr. Hwa there’s a spy on the island. If he’s too dense—or too wound up in his stupid computer to see it—that’s his problem.”

  “Someone has to take care of it,” said Roger gently. “Remember, it’s Dad’s work we’re protecting, too.”

  After that no one spoke for a while. The waves lapped at the side of the boat. Watching them, Hap was struck by how rapidly the ocean could change—brutal and angry one moment, calm and gentle just a short time later. Though he had spent most of his life at the edge of the water, he still found its power and unpredictability enormously frightening.

  “What are we going to do?” he asked at last. “About Wendy, I mean.”

  “What can we do?” yelled Roger.

  He turned away from Hap and stared out to sea. For all his light talk, Roger took his role as head of the group very seriously. He blamed himself completely for the loss of the Wonderchild, and the anger, fear, and remorse surging through him made it hard to think.

  He took a deep breath. “What can we do?” he asked again, turning back. “If—I mean, when we get back to the island, we’ll get a full search started.” He looked out at the waves. “Unless any of the rest of you have some great idea you’re keeping to yourself.”

  A glum silence greeted the remark.

  “Maybe Rachel is right,” said Trip an hour or so later. “Maybe we should just bow out. After all, this isn’t really our fight. We’ve stopped the spy a couple of times now, and all we get for it is flak. Worse than flak, this time.” He stopped, the lump in his throat preventing him from finishing what he wanted to say.

  While Trip was talking, Ray had slid down the curve of the boat to the edge of the water. Now he scrambled back up to the others, clutching something in his hand, something he examined with growing astonishment.