The Island of Dragons (Rockpools Book 4) by Gregg Dunnett (best books for 7th graders .txt) 📕

It’s not fun, by the way. I thought it was going to be fun, but now we’re actually here, James and Oscar are both quiet, and very serious, and I’m not enjoying myself at all. I think I liked the idea of doing this a lot more than actually doing it. But I’m here now, so I’ll finish what we’ve started. But after that I’m not going to do any more of James’ plans.

At eleven we get back in the car, and drive back to the site. It’s already started snowing now, big fat flakes that are lit up by the headlights and flutter like moths. The road hasn’t been treated, and hardly any other cars have come this way, so we have to go carefully to avoid skidding off, but at least it’s flat up here in the north of the island, so we don’t get stuck. We leave the car half-hidden behind some bushes, and walk up to the fence, there’s a sign on the outside warning of security cameras, and CCTV and it makes me shiver. Or that could be the cold. Then I go back to the car to get set up.

First I check the voltage of the batteries. They’re both at 100%, and I’ve kept them warm while we drove here by sitting on them. I don’t want to let them get cold now, so I slip them in my pocket. At the same time I take a roll of gaffer tape and use it to cover up all the vents on the drone’s body. That should keep the snow out. I fit the infrared camera, and check it’s communicating properly with my phone. Then I sweep the snow off the roof of the car, I’ll use that as a launch pad – so the exhaust from the rotors doesn’t blow up a blizzard the moment I try to take off. Finally I fit the drone batteries, and I’m ready to go. James and Oscar stand around looking nervous.

I have the drone set up so I can see what the camera sees in real time, on the screen on my phone, which is mounted on the drone’s controller. It’s getting covered in snow, and my hands are freezing, but I can see clearly enough. I put it on the roof, and step back, then push the throttle. I don’t go too hard, like it said on the instructions for flying in the snow, because they cause the battery voltage drop. A second later, there’s the buzz of the motors, and I take off, hovering at head height.

“It works!” I say, out loud. It’s the first thing any of us have said in a long while. James and Oscar are right beside me now, looking at the camera. I spin the drone around, so the infrared camera is pointing at us, and you see the three human heat signatures, mostly on our hands and faces, and the air where we’re breathing out. The hood of the car is also a deep red, from the heat of the engine block underneath. But everything else is black.

I push the drone higher, up to the height of the trees that are sheltering us, forlorn and leafless, and then higher, so that I’m right up in the clear air. Only it’s not clear, the snow is really heavy, and you can see the flakes running past the camera, crazy thick. There’s a lag in controlling, which I’ve never seen before. And because I don’t have the normal camera feeding back to the screen, it’s super hard to control where I am, or where I’m supposed to be going.

“What’s it doing?” James asks.

“I don’t know.” I reply. I don’t want to say this, but it’s getting pretty obvious. “I don’t know if this is going to work.”

I covered up the lights on the drone body, so although we can hear it, hovering somewhere above us, we can’t see it. And I can’t see where it is from the screen either. There’s a button I can press that will bring it home though, so I try to push it a bit further, aiming it towards what I think is the Fonchem compound, before shaking my head.

“This is hopeless. I can’t see anything with the snow.” I try to gain altitude, but the drone won’t do it. I press the home button.

“I’m bringing it back.”

For a few seconds there’s silence, total silence, as the snow absorbs all sound. Then we hear the burr of the rotors again, and they grow louder, until the body of the drone suddenly appears at head height in front of me. Carefully I catch it, and power down the motors.

“I can’t see where I’m going with just the infrared camera,” I say. “If it wasn’t so cold I could fit a second camera, and use that to steer from. But in this temperature, the drone wouldn’t get off the ground.” I’m gutted. Despite how I’m not enjoying this, we still came to do a job, and I’m disappointed that it’s not going to work. Again though, James’ mood doesn’t seem to match mine, which I don’t understand. He seems quite cheerful about this.

“Never mind Billy. We’ve got a plan B.”

“What?”

“Forget the drone. Pack it away, but grab the camera. And meet us at the fence.” And then he and Oscar trek off through the snow, where I can’t see what they’re doing.

I do what he says. I unbolt the camera, and put all the drone equipment back in the box. I’ll have to dry it off properly before I next use it. I wonder if I should take it back with me to college, or leave it at home. Both are a bit problematic – if I take it, Dad might wonder why it’s not in my bedroom, and if I leave it there, I’ll have to pack it away where it was, and