скачать книгу бесплатно
The Colossus Rises
Peter Lerangis
PERCY JACKSON meets ERAGON in the new epic saga from bestseller Peter Lerangis.“A high-octane mix of modern adventure and ancient secrets… I can’t wait to see what’s next” Rick RiordanThe day after twelve-year-old Jack McKinley is told he has six months to live, he awakens on a mysterious island, where a secret organization promises to save his life – but with one condition. With his three friends, Jack must lead a mission to retrieve seven lost magical orbs, which, only when combined together, can save their lives. The challenge: the orbs have been missing for a thousand years, lost among the ruins and relics of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. With no one else to turn to and no escape in sight, the four friends have no choice but to undertake the quest. First stop: The Colossus of Rhodes, where they realise that there’s way more at stake than just their lives.
The Monastery
DEDICATION (#u0590c34f-e203-5ad5-9448-5a899c210d2d)
FOR MY FELLOW VOYAGERS. ALL OF YOU.
CONTENTS
DEDICATION
CHAPTER ONE: RED BEARD
CHAPTER TWO: THE ACCIDENT
CHAPTER THREE: FLATLINING
CHAPTER FOUR: THE DREAM
CHAPTER FIVE: ARRIVAL
CHAPTER SIX: INTO THE JUNGLE
CHAPTER SEVEN: YODA IN TWEEDS
CHAPTER EIGHT: G7W
CHAPTER NINE: THE SELECT
CHAPTER TEN: SECRET MESSAGE
CHAPTER ELEVEN: THREE A.M.
CHAPTER TWELVE: THE MOE QUADRANT
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: ESCAPE FROM KI
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: SINK OR SWIM
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: TRAINING DAY
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE FIRST TREATMENT
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: HERMAN AND BURT WENDERS
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE ONES THAT DON’T BELONG
CHAPTER NINETEEN: MOUNT ONYX
CHAPTER TWENTY: BELAY ON!
CHAPTER TWENTY - ONE: THE TUB
CHAPTER TWENTY - TWO: ATTACK
CHAPTER TWENTY - THREE: INTO THE ABYSS
CHAPTER TWENTY - FOUR: THE DREAM CHANGES
CHAPTER TWENTY - FIVE: IF MISERY BE THINE
CHAPTER TWENTY - SIX: THE MAZE
CHAPTER TWENTY - SEVEN: RECALCULATING
CHAPTER TWENTY - EIGHT: DON’T LOOK UP
CHAPTER TWENTY - NINE: CASS ON FIRE
CHAPTER THIRTY: GOING, GOING, GONE
CHAPTER THIRY - ONE: MARCO
CHAPTER THIRTY - TWO: THE CIRCLE IN THE DARK
CHAPTER THIRTY - THREE: NO-DEAD-BODY ZONE
CHAPTER THIRTY - FOUR: THE HEPTAKIKLOS
CHPATER THIRTY - FIVE: CREATURE FROM THE BREACH
CHAPTER THIRY - SIX: MEANING OF THE SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY - SEVEN: RHODES
CHAPTER THIRTY - EIGHT: THE TROUBLE WITH TORQUIN
CHPATER THIRTY - NINE: CHASING THE MONKS
CHAPTER FORTY: BROTHER DIMITRIOS
CHAPTER FORTY - ONE: TWEETY RETURNS
CHAPTER FORTY - TWO: THE FLAME
CHAPTER FORTY - THREE: MASSARYM
CHAPTER FORTY - FOUR: THE AWAKENING
CHAPTER FORTY - FIVE: PLAN C
CHAPTER FORTY - SIX: ONE BEAST AT A TIME
CHAPTER FORTY - SEVEN: THE SECRET OF THE LOCULUS
CHAPTER FORTY - EIGHT: NO TURNING BACK
CHAPTER FORTY - NINE: SHOWDOWN
CHAPTER FIFTY: INCIDENT AT THE RHODEAN MANOR
CHAPTER FIFTY - ONE: SOLDIER, SAILOR, TINKER, TAILOR
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CREDITS
COPYRIGHT
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
CHAPTER ONE (#u0590c34f-e203-5ad5-9448-5a899c210d2d)
RED BEARD
ON THE MORNING I was scheduled to die, a large barefoot man with a bushy red beard waddled past my house. The thirty-degree temperature didn’t seem to bother him, but he must have had a lousy breakfast, because he let out a burp as loud as a tuba.
Belching barefoot giants who look like Vikings are not normal in Belleville, Indiana. But I didn’t really get a chance to see the guy closely.
At that moment, I, Jack McKinley, was under attack in my own bedroom. By a flying reptile.
I could have used an alarm clock. But I’d been up late studying for my first-period math test and I’m a deep sleeper. Dad couldn’t wake me because he was in Singapore on business. And Vanessa, the au pair I call my don’t-caregiver, always slept till noon.
I needed a big sound. Something I couldn’t possibly sleep through. That’s when I saw my papier-mâché volcano from last month’s science fair, still on my desk. It was full of baking soda. So I got my dad’s coffeemaker, filled it with vinegar, and rigged it to the volcano with a plastic tube. I set the timer for 6:30 A.M., when the coffeemaker would release the vinegar into the volcano, causing a goop explosion. I put a chute at the base of the volcano to capture that goop. In the chute was a billiard ball, which would roll down toward a spring-loaded catapult on my chair. The catapult would release a big old plastic Ugliosaurus™—a fanged eagle crossed with a lion, bright-red.
Bang—when that baby hit the wall I’d have to be dead not to wake up. Foolproof, right?
Not quite. Around 6:28, I was in the middle of a nightmare. I’d had this dream way too many times: me, running through the jungle in a toga, chased by snarling, drooling, piglike beasts, whose screeches fill the smoky sky. Nice, huh? Usually I awake from this dream when a gap in the earth opens beneath my feet.
But this time, I fell in. Down into the darkness. To my death.
At the moment of contact, the Gaseous Giant burped in real life. The sound woke me up.
The coffeemaker-volcano alarm went off. And the Ugliosaurus whacked me between the eyes.
Which, in a nutshell, is how the worst morning of my life began. The last morning I would awaken in my own bed.
“@$%^&!” I screamed, which means I can’t tell you the actual words.
I sprang off my bed in agony. That was when I caught a glimpse of Red Beard on the sidewalk. Which caused me to drop to the floor, embarrassed to be seen, even by a wacked-out barefoot stranger. Unfortunately my butt landed squarely on a sharp Ugliosaurus wing, which made me scream again. That was way too much screaming for someone who just turned thirteen.
I lay there with gritted teeth, wishing I’d used the alarm clock. In my mind I saw Vanessa goading me: You think too much, Jack. Which she used to say about a hundred times a day. Maybe because I think too much. Always have.
I got off the floor, clutching my head. Red Beard was padding down the street, his feet slapping the pavement. “Next time, close your mouth,” I grumbled under my breath as I staggered to the bathroom.
I should have wondered who he was and why he was here. But I couldn’t stop thinking of my nightmare, which still lingered like the taste of moldy cheese. I tried to replace it with thoughts of math. Unfortunately, it felt about the same.
Looking in the mirror, I saw that the Ugliosaurus had made a gash on my forehead. Not too deep, but it looked pretty bad, and it stung.
I turned on the tap, dampened a washcloth, and pushed aside a mass of rat-brown hair to uncover my wound. As I dabbed it, I noticed a little tuft of blond hairs sticking out from the back of my head.
Weird. I’d never seen them before. Without Dad around to bug me, I hadn’t had a haircut in a while, so those blond hairs looked like loose wires. As I leaned closer to look, a sharp creak made me spin around.
“Vanessa?” I called out.
Aha. She’d heard my scream. I imagined her cowering behind the door, planning how not to be blamed for whatever happened. But she wasn’t there.
I glanced at the bathroom clock: 6:39. I had to leave the house by 6:45. But I wanted to see that little blond patch. I had enough time.
I pulled open the bathroom cabinet and reached for a hand mirror I hadn’t touched in years. Dad and I had bought it at CVS when I was in second grade, for an art project. Picking it up, I looked at the message I’d carved into the plastic frame.
I turned the mirror around. On the back I’d laminated a photo to the surface. In it, I was four years old and dressed in a puffy winter coat, sliding down a gentle hill on a sled. The white snow was tinged yellow-green with age. Mom was on the hilltop, laughing, wearing her favorite Smith College wool jacket. Dad was at the bottom, turned away. It was our game: Boom to Daddy. I’d slide into his legs and he would keel over, howling in pretend pain. Then he’d carry me back to the top and we’d do it all over again.
I smiled. Back then, I thought this game was hilarious. Every little thing we did was fun. Life was pretty perfect before Mom died. Before I started having those nightmares. Before Dad had decided home was a place to avoid.
Turning my back to the big bathroom mirror, I used the hand mirror to see behind my head. That was when I realized the blond hair wasn’t blond—it was white. And it wasn’t just a couple of hairs. I patted them down and noticed a pattern, an upside-down V. I tried to scrape it off with my fingernails, hoping it was some kind of weird stain. But nothing happened. My hair had just changed color—like in those cartoons where someone’s hair goes white with shock. Was that what the Ugliosaurus did to me? No way were the kids at school going to ignore this.
I thought about what Mom would say: Wear a hat.
Quickly I brushed my teeth. I dropped the mirror into my pack, in case I wanted to investigate further at school. Then I ran into my room and grabbed my peacoat off the floor. Peeking out from under a Wendy’s bag was my wool knit cap. I wiped off a crust of congealed ketchup and Chocolate Frosty from one side. It didn’t smell too bad, so I jammed it on my head, shoved my math notebook into my backpack, and bolted.
It was 6:43.
As I reached the top of the stairs, my cell phone beeped.
Dad!
Ugh. Our 6:30 Wednesday morning Skype session. I’d totally forgotten—and he was late! How could he do this on a test day?
I raced downstairs. Dad always insisted I take the call in the living room on the sofa—with the camera on, so he could make sure I hadn’t trashed anything.
He’s a neat freak. I’m a mess freak. And I had only five rings till the call went to voice mail. In the living room I shoved a pile of cables and joysticks to the center of the Turkish rug, along with two guitars, some comic books, three sweatshirts, a few pairs of socks, take-out containers from Wu Kitchen, a pizza box I was afraid to look into, and a half-eaten Kit Kat.
Beep…
From the middle of the pile I lifted a hook attached to four cables, which were linked to the corners of the carpet. I slipped the hook into a pulley I’d rigged to the ceiling chandelier support. A couple of strong tugs, and the rug rose like Santa’s toy sack, leaving a pristine wood floor below.
