Sunwing by Kenneth Oppel Read Free Book Online Page B

open his eyes and maybe he did, because he thought he saw the forest, and through it moved tall, two-legged shapes. Humans? They had no faces. They slipped amongst the trees like specters, and he watched them in horror, unable, in his dream, to shift. They had arms, long skeletal arms that moved jerkily up into the air, into the branches of the trees, toward sleeping bats….
    And then he could keep his eyes open no longer, and a horrible darkness swallowed him up again.
    He woke to the sound of anxious voices, all talking over one another.
    “… can’t find him anywhere …”
    “… where’ve they gone?”
    “… she’s disappeared.…”
    His heart kicked up. Disappeared? He lit from his roost, flaring his ears wider. Bats were streaking through the forest in all directions, calling out names with increasing desperation. “Daedalus … Hecuba … Miranda?”
    He angled his wings, beating hard for the place he knew Ariel and Marina liked to roost. He felt strangely sluggish, his mouth dry and sour-tasting. A dull pain pulsed in the base of his skull.
    “Gone … gone … gone.” The word echoed through the trees, mingled with the sound of sobbing.
    “What’s going on?” he asked a frantic Graywing who was flapping toward him.
    “Have you seen my Ursa?” she demanded.
    “No, I—”
    “I can’t find her anywhere,” moaned the Graywing mother. “She’s gone, just like the others.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “They’re all gone!” And she flew on, calling out her daughter’s name in her cracked voice.
    Shade veered through the branches now, smashing through leaves, and darted out over a clearing. How stupid he’d been, staying away from them, quarreling with Marina. All the angry thoughts he’d had about both of them now seemed so childish and cruel.
    “Marina? Mom?”
    This was the place they usually slept—where were they? He called out again, but there were so many other bats calling out names, it was hopeless, just a haze of noise. Nearly choking with breathlessness, he flew up through the forest canopy. A large, swirling crowd of bats had gathered above the tree line, and he could see Arcadia at its center.
    “Shade!”
    He turned and almost cried out in relief when he saw Marina and his mother flying toward him. “We were looking for you!”
    “So was I.”
    They embraced briefly in midair, the three of them. Then Shade pulled back. “Frieda?”
    “She’s fine, but there’re others missing. Icarus. Plato and Isis and …” His mother faltered.
    “Chinook?” Shade said softly, and saw his mother nod. His head throbbed, and he felt sick—and guilty. He’d spent so much time wishing Chinook would just vanish, he couldn’t help the crazy feeling he’d had something to do with it.
    “How?” he said in confusion, his head still feeling muddy.
    “What’s happening?” the bats in the crowd were calling out in anguish. “Where have they all gone?”
    “We do not know yet!” shouted Arcadia. “We must all of us be calm!”
    “There’re hundreds missing!” a Pallid bat cried out. “Where could they go?”
    Shade suddenly understood. “The Humans,” he whispered, then louder: “The Humans!”
    His voice only made it halfway into the crowd, but those closest to him heard and turned.
    “The Humans took them?” they said, scowling in disbelief, but quickly this idea spread through the crowd until the words were on everyone’s tongue.
    “Are you sure?” Marina asked him.
    “Who says this?” demanded Arcadia. “Who saw the Humans take the bats?”
    A heavy silence fell over the crowd.
    Shade swallowed. “They came while we slept,” he said. “I saw them. At first I thought I was dreaming, but it makes sense. There were lots of them, moving among the trees and they were reaching up into the branches….”
    “Why did no one else see this?” snapped Arcadia. For a few moments there was nothing but silence, then a few mumbled replies:
    “Maybe I did … “
    “I’m