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“Knock him into the water?” Dekka asked skeptically.
“He’s close,” Armo said. “Ship is kind of in the way.”
Dekka sighed. “Okay. You, Cruz, your job is to distract him. We’ll hit him from behind—if Armo agrees. We’ll try to knock him over, down by the water.” Dekka peered closely at Cruz. “You think you can do this?”
Cruz didn’t trust her voice. She didn’t trust her body, either, but it was apparently making all the decisions, so she turned and started walking fast, breaking into a run and veering left, winding through crushed and burning vehicles, aiming to get to the left of Napalm.
It wasn’t far, just a quarter of a mile perhaps, and as she ran she heard Napalm’s voice shout, “Ahoy there, Okeanos! I am Napalm! Give me the rock! Give me the rock or burn!”
If any of the ship’s crew was answering, Cruz did not hear them. Nor could she see any of them, at least not at first. Then she saw a hooded figure walk calmly up to the side of the ship and look up at Napalm.
The hooded figure must have said something, because Napalm roared, “Give me the rock or die!”
More inaudible conversation, and then Napalm began counting down.
“Ten . . . nine . . .”
Cruz had reached the edge of the pier, up near the Okeanos’s stubby bow.
What would distract Napalm?
Then she knew. The idea came fully formed. But was it possible? She searched her memory for shapes she had assumed. Some had been larger than her true self. She had looked the part, but when Shade or Malik touched her they sometimes found they were touching air. She, Cruz, continued to exist, the changes were an illusion, basically a hologram.
So it should be possible.
Cruz began to change. It was easier with a living model right in front of her. It was an exceedingly bizarre thing, unlike any of her previous efforts, for always before she had become humans, humans whose eyes would be at least close to her own eyes in height. But now her altered appearance, her holographic self, was so huge that she, Cruz, was like a tourist standing on the bottom tread of the stairs that led up inside the Statue of Liberty. She could see her version of Napalm from the inside, as if she were standing behind a movie screen, seeing things from behind, except that she was within.
Napalm’s eyes were forty feet up and Cruz’s eyes were only a little over five feet off the ground. She saw through the hologram, seeing her own illusory volcanic rock skin and orange fire, but as a translucent filter.
But when she moved her hands, the holographic hands moved.
“Hey! You!” Cruz yelled.
Napalm turned and froze in place. He was staring at himself, a perfect mirror image.
“What?” Napalm said in a surprisingly puzzled, unmonsterish voice.
Two identical, nearly fifty-foot-tall, living volcanoes stared at each other down the length of the dock. Cruz was all too aware that his fiery spew could reach her, drench her, burn her to death. Fear choked Cruz, and most of her brain was yammering, Run, run, run!
And now, the unwelcome guests, the Dark Watchers. They were curious. Surprised. Cruz almost felt an “Aaahh” of pleased expectation from them, as if they were watching a movie and were surprised by a sudden plot twist.
“Who are you?” Napalm demanded.
And that was when Dekka morphed once more, came running up behind Napalm, raised her hands, and screeched.
Napalm twisted frantically, but Dekka moved with him, staying behind him, out of sight, peeling layers of stone from him. Napalm batted helplessly at his back with stubby arms and roared in pain and frustration.
/> Armo had morphed and dived into the water by the stern of the Okeanos. He came up now through the gap between the pier and the ship, white fur soaking wet. He dug claws into pilings and climbed the tarry wood like a squirrel going up a tree.
Then with one tremendous effort he leaped into Napalm, bounced off, hit the side of the ship and propelled himself off, bounced again against Napalm, and leaped higher still until he was atop the upper deck of the Okeanos, from where he clambered madly up the mast beneath the golf ball. Then, almost eye level with Napalm, he kicked off with a mad roar, landed on Napalm’s head, and gripped him. Steam rose from Napalm’s head and the pain seared Armo, but he did not jump away, holding on grimly for as long as he could while Dekka shredded the monster’s back and Napalm staggered blindly and in pain, slammed against the side of the ship, all the while batting at Armo and twisting to get at Dekka.
And for a while hope flared in Cruz’s breast. They were winning!
Then the big loading crane on the dock came to life with a whir of electric motors. The sturdy steel arm, an arm capable of lifting entire containers as if they were no heavier than a Lego, swung in an arc toward Napalm.
At the last second, a steaming, charred Armo jumped free.
The crane arm struck Napalm in the shoulder and knocked him hard against the ship. Fire spilled onto the decks. Dekka never ceased in her attack, while Armo slunk away to change back to pain-free human form.
