The 8th Continent (19 page)

AN UNTOUCHED CONTINENT LAY BEFORE THEM, A BOUNDLESS LAND OF LIFE AND OPPORTUNITY.
Like a blank canvas, the eighth continent begged for Rick and Evie to use their creativity to paint upon it the world they desired.

It had been six weeks since what the news had begun to call the Battle of the Garbage Patch, when the Eden Compound had transformed the Texas-sized mound of trash into the land where they now stood. Thus far, the new landscape had no name, but Rick had already begun to call it home.

After the
Roost
had rendezvoused with the
Drongo
, they had first spent time with their parents, telling them the tale of their adventures. 2-Tor never stopped apologizing. Apparently he had been quiet about the fact that he held himself responsible for all the danger they had faced. No one blamed the giant talking crow. Rick couldn't reprogram the birdbot anymore, so he gave him a big plate of worms as a thank-you present for taking care of them on their trip. 2-Tor said they were the best thing he'd ever tasted.

“They're the only thing you've ever tasted,” Rick said.

In all honesty, Mom
was
pretty mad about the whole thing. They had disobeyed her and had risked their dad's freedom and their own, all for a chance at the eighth continent. But even Mom couldn't argue with the results, and she admired their motives. Rick still smiled when he thought of the hug he and Evie got from her when they were reunited.

“I was so worried about you! My brave, crazy little children.” It was nice to see Mom and Evie make up. Mom could see that Evie had set her mind on a goal and had accomplished something truly great.

Dad was as happy as he had been that time they visited the Kuala Lumpur Bird Park. Once he was free of the squid-cuff, he draped himself in electronics and danced on the fields of the new continent. “FREEDOM!” he cheered at random moments . . . like whenever he was running on the beach or brushing his teeth.

Rick took a break from video games. “The eighth continent is cooler than any game. Think of everything we can do! We have to start building. We need trees, and roads, and houses—tree houses, of course. We can build laboratories, and a school, a town hall, anything we want!”

But the truth was, Rick didn't need all that. All he needed he already had: his parents, his sister, a new pet tiger cat, and the continent. From there he could start cleaning up the rest of the world. The Eden Compound was gone, but there was still a lot of garbage out there making the planet sick. He would need to come up with new ways to solve that problem. It was something to be proud of, a mission for Lane Industries, his father, and himself.

On a small hilltop on the south side of the continent, overlooking the ocean, they built a stone marker as a remembrance of their friend Doctor Evan Grant. Niels Bohr sunned himself on the hilltop every day, until the afternoon, when Rick and Evie would come with their parents to pay their respects, and the tiger cat would follow them back to the beach for supper.

At the edge of the continent, Rick sat around a fire with his family, the first settlers of this new world. There would be a lot of work, and many more adventures, but for the moment, Rick was happy to relax, enjoy his success, and imagine the possibilities.

“Hey, what's that?” Evie asked as she blew on the flaming marshmallow she was holding on a stick.

Rick followed her gaze. Near the horizon, silhouetted by the setting sun behind them, a number of shadowy shapes moved across the water, toward the continent. “What is that?”

Dad put down his guitar and rose from his lawn chair. “I could fire up the
Roost
, check it out.”

“No . . .” Rick said. “I think I can see it. It's . . . they're . . . animals.”

Dozens of them moved across the water, birds and eels and ferrets and grizzly bears, flying and slithering and swimming toward the continent. And in the middle of the pack, a giant bullet-shaped shark. Rick could see that even though his family had just created the eighth continent, someone was already trying to take it away, and Rick knew who.

For the animals were made of plastic.

And they were pink.

MATT LONDON
(http://themattlondon.com) is a writer, video game designer, and avid recycler who has published short fiction and articles about movies, TV, video games, and other nerdy stuff. Matt is a graduate of The Clarion Writers Workshop, and studied computers, cameras, rockets, and robots at New York University. When not investigating lost civilizations, Matt explores the mysterious island where he lives — Manhattan.

Find out more at
8THCONTINENTBOOKS.COM