The Call (The Magnificent 12 1)

“The thing is, though, we kind of stopped time or whatever, so—”

“You stopped time, not me,” Stefan said, sounding like he was trying to avoid responsibility.

“So, if I start it up again, do we go back to what we were doing?”

“Sure.”

“Falling?”

“Yeah,” Stefan said, “but we wouldn’t be falling as far.”

“It’s not distance I’m worried about,” Mack said. “It’s speed. What if we kept all the speed we had before?”

Stefan had no answer and neither did Mack. But at that moment he noticed something: a sailboat. It was floating along on the breeze not far below and not far away.

“I think our ride’s here,” Mack said. “I’m going to try it.”

“What about the…eh, never mind. Whatever,” Stefan said.

“Ret click-ur!”

Mack yelled it.

Gravity reached up and snatched him again.

It dragged him straight down. He hit the water hard. Hard enough to squeeze the air from his lungs. Hard enough to sting. It felt like a really bad session of dodgeball.

He plunged deep. Deeper than he’d ever been in a swimming pool. Down and down, and it seemed like he would never stop.

He kicked and thrashed and headed for the surface, which was a silvery barrier so very high above him.

Lungs screaming, heart pounding, he went up and up, but sooooo veeeeery slooowly.

Then, all at once, his head was out of the water and he sucked in warm, damp air.

Stefan was treading water close by. “Dude—we just fell out of a plane and we’re still alive!”

“But we’re in the ocean!” Mack cried.

“No big deal. The water’s not that cold.”

“It’s still the ocean. The ocean!”

“It’s just water, man. Chill. What are you so scared of?” Stefan asked.

“That!” Mack said, and pointed.

He pointed at the gray, triangular fin that sliced through the water, turned, and came straight for him.

* * *

DEAR MACK,

I AM SORRY ABOUT…WELL, YOU’LL SEE WHEN YOU GET BACK. I TRIED TO TEXT YOU, BUT I GUESS YOU WERE BUSY OR DIDN’T HAVE A SIGNAL. ANYWAY, DON’T WORRY: IT’S TOO LATE NOW.

YOUR FRIEND,

GOLEM