Read Online Monstrum by Ann Christopher - Free Book Online Page B

chopper just by virtue of their additional years on the planet. But at least they’re here, trying to protect us, and that counts for something.
    â€œOkay,” Murphy says, surveying the collection of items at his feet. “It looks like we’ve got—”
    â€œWhat’s the point?”
    This harsh new male voice has the rest of us looking around in surprise, but Murphy takes it in stride. “What’s that you’re asking, Axel Hendersen?”
    Oh, Axel,
I think.
Wonderful. Here we go
.
    Axel’s been sitting on the floor of his raft with his beefy arms resting on his knees and his head in his hands, but now he looks up. His mouth is twisted and his brows form a low shelf over his wild eyes, making him look more than a little unhinged.
    â€œI said, what’s the point? You think we’re going to survive at sea with a pack of Lifesavers, a few granola bars and some leftover bug spray and sunscreen? Do I look like MacGyver, man?”
    â€œNot at all,” Murphy says evenly. “You look like a scared young man lashing out—”
    At this, Axel unfolds his huge, football-playing body, springs to his feet to tower over Murphy and waves his hand in Murphy’s face.
    â€œAh, shit,” mutters Gray. “This is just what we need.”
    â€œYeah, I’m scared.” Axel gestures with his arm again, and I see the flash of metal in his hand. “But maybe you know something I don’t know, Murphy. My cell phone’s packing a gallon of water right now, but maybe yours is nice-and-cozy dry. Is that it? Maybe you’ve got some signal flares or the plane’s communication system in your back pockets. Is that it? And what’s going on with the sky? I really want to know your thoughts on that one, Murphy! You got a theory going on that—”
    â€œDude.” Mike puts a hand on Axel’s shoulder. “You need to take a breath. You’re not helping.”
    â€œHelping?”
Axel is shouting now, his voice half-choked with sobs. “My father is dead, man! And we’re as good as, because right now there are sharks out there with all our names on them! They’re probably circling around, drawing straws to figure out who gets stuck with the smallest person! So I want to know what Murphy’s got that he thinks we’re going to live through this mess!”
    â€œI don’t have anything, Axel Hendersen,” Murphy says quietly, “other than the sense God gave a goat and the desire to live until someone can come get us.”
    â€œAnd how will they know where we are, Murphy?” Axel demands, sweeping his arms wide to indicate the endless water. “What’s your answer for that? It’s not like there’s a signpost right there that says we’re at the corner of Bermuda Triangle Boulevard and Atlantic Ocean Avenue!”
    Murphy, much to my surprise, isn’t rattled or annoyed. “I’m hoping the copilot radioed for help, but I don’t know. What I do know is that planes have flight data recorders and black boxes and such. I know that coast guards look for downed planes. And I know I’d rather be found alive than dead. What about you?”
    Axel doesn’t have an answer for that, or maybe he’s just run out of steam. Collapsing on the floor, he buries his face in his hands and begins to sob. I’m no fan of his, but the sight of him lost, broken and crying for his father is more than I can take. I turn away and focus on one of the backpacks, grateful to have a task. Beside me, An and Maggie do the same. Someone sniffles. Mike murmurs soothingly to Axel, whose anguish slowly tapers into silence.
    Before long, I discover something useful in the backpack’s middle pocket—a water bottle. Yay. I toss it into a growing supply pile to one side of the raft.
    Mrs. Torres, meanwhile, seems to be wrapping Macy’s head with something while Espi hovers, watching.
    Things