Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports

DELANEYMINKER = POLLUTING STINKER

"You may want to go into lockdown," said Sam, sounding far calmer than he felt.

"Iggy!" Fang yelled. "Gasman! Follow me!" Wheeling through the sky, Fang worked his wings powerfully, racing across the gray ocean toward the horizon.

Risking a backward glance, he saw that Iggy and the Gasman were behind him and closing fast.

"Dive-bomb," Fang said. "On my count."

The Gasman looked down, frowned, then drew in a deep breath and nodded.

"Oh, God," said Iggy. "Talk about cold..."

"We are here to destroy you," said the Flyboys, sounding like an angry swarm of mechanized bees.

"One!" Fang called, heading away from shore as fast as he could. He hoped there was a steep drop-off along this part of the coast. "Two!"

"You will recant!" the Flyboys droned. "You will recant!"

"Three!" said Fang, and tucked his wings in tight against his body. He aimed himself downward, right at the water. From this high, going this fast, hitting the water was going to feel like hitting concrete. But it couldn't be helped.

He heard the Gasman's and Iggy's jackets flapping as they accelerated downward.

"This is going to be bad!" Iggy called.

"Yep," Fang agreed, his voice snatched away by the streaming wind.

"There is no escape!" droned the Flyboys, who were, of course, following them fast.

Yeah? thought Fang. This is true.

Smash!

Hitting the cold ocean was in fact a whole lot like hitting concrete, Fang decided, but he was so streamlined that he shot straight down like an arrow, spearing the water. It felt as if God had punched his face, but he was still alive and conscious.

He heard the impact of the Gasman and Iggy hitting the water but could barely see anything when he opened his eyes.

As the boys started to make their way up to the surface, their ears popping, they saw and felt hundreds and hundreds of Flyboys smashing into the water.

It turned out they could not swim.

It also turned out that water was not a good environment for their systems to function properly in. The electrical charges of the Flyboys shorting out actually made Fang's skin tingle, and he motioned to the Gasman to get away, now! The Gasman grabbed Iggy, and they swam hard after Fang.

They bobbed to the surface about eighty feet away from where a showstopping lights-and-sparks display was taking place. The Flyboys couldn't help themselves, even as they saw dozens of their colleagues exploding and shorting out in the water.

Some of them tried to backpedal, but their wings weren't designed that way-and the Flyboys behind them just hit them and dragged them all down anyway.

"Awesome!" shouted the Gasman, punching his fist in the air. "Oh, Iggy, man, if you could only see this!"

"I hear it," said Iggy happily. "I feel it. There's nothing like the smell of the shorted closed-circuit system of an electric Frankenstein."

"So, guys," said Fang, treading water. "Good plan?"

"Excellent plan, dude," said the Gasman, and Iggy held up his hand for a high five.

Fang slapped it, then they swam toward shore.