Free The 39 Clues Book 7: The Viper's Nest by Peter Lerangis

at the sound of the bomb blast on Boom Street. Nellie was speeding the Yugo onto the highway entrance ramp.
    "Yeeee-HAHHH!" Dan screamed, hitting the car roof with his fist.
    Amy's insides were frayed. "You think that was fun?" she blurted. "We could have all been killed --because of you! What did you think you were doing?"
    "Didn't you see him?" Dan said. "Hamilton --he was blinking!"
    "So?" Amy said.
    "Blinking Morse code, Amy!" Dan explained. "Dit-dah-dit, dit, dit-dah-dit-dit, dit, dit-dah, dit-dit-dit, dit, dah-dit-dit-dit, dit-dah-dit, dit-dah, dah-dit-dah, dit! Two words -- release brake! He was giving me instructions."
    "You understood that?" Nellie said.
    "At first I'm, like, dude, what?" Dan said. "But he kept repeating the same message. He wanted me to create a distraction!"
    "Are you crazy?" Amy pressed. "What if Hamilton
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    hadn't been able to fix the wires in time? You hit the van, Dan! You hit it! A distraction doesn't mean dying!"
    Dan deflated. His face darkened, and he fell back heavily into his seat. "You really know how to ruin a nice day."
    The car fell silent as Nellie pulled onto the highway and zoomed toward Johannesburg. "So, campers," she chirped, "what say we celebrate our escape, Alistair's escape, Hamilton's good-guyness, and Dan's great code-breaking skills by stopping off and getting us a fresh GPS? And maybe, like, some food?" She paused while Amy and Dan shifted uncomfortably. "I knew you'd jump on that idea. I'll keep an eye out for a place."
    As the flat, parched countryside raced by, Amy stared out the window. "I wonder where he is now--Alistair."
    "I saw Hamilton whisper something to him after he fixed the wires," Nellie said. "Must have been telling him to make like a tortilla chip and break away."
    Dan shook his head. "I can't believe that wacko was going to zap him."
    Amy closed her eyes. The plan was so barbaric.
    Zap. One flip of the bowler.
    She suddenly had the urge to cry.
    Something was bubbling up inside Amy, something so muddy and deep she couldn't define it. "I... wanted him to die, Dan. I never felt that before. What's wrong with me?"
    "Hey, kiddo ..." Nellie said gently.
    Dan nodded. "Yeah. It's understandable. Really."
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    "Is it?" Amy said. " I don't understand it. You should climb around inside my brain, Dan. It's like this dark room surrounded by quicksand."
    "I know what you mean," her brother said quietly. "I hate being in my brain sometimes. I have to get out."
    "What do you do?" Amy said.
    Dan shrugged. "I go to other places --my toes. My shoulders. But mostly here." He tapped his chest and immediately turned red. "I know. It's stupid."
    "Not really," Amy said. "I wish I could do that, too."
    "It's not something you do," Dan said. "I mean, something's always going on in there whether you want it to or not. You just have to, like, lift up the shades and peek in."
    Amy took a deep breath. The idea sounded so Dan. She closed her eyes and thought about the past few days. About Alistair and the hunt. About Dan and his body travel.
    Lift the shades ...
    The quicksand was fading away. Relief washed over her. And she began to cry. "I hate myself," she said. "I hate what I'm seeing."
    "Why?" Dan asked.
    Stop feeling relief! she scolded herself. Relief is weakness. Relief is compassion. Compassion is trust. Trust no one.
    "Why do you have such stupid ideas, Dan!" she blurted.
    Dan smiled. "You do feel happy, right? About Alistair?"
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    "I shouldn't!" Amy willed back the tears. "I can't! He always escapes. Mom and Dad didn't escape, but he does. It's not fair. He deserves to die."
    "Amy?" Dan said.
    "I don't want to feel glad that we saved Alistair!" Amy said. "Because saving him is like betraying the memory of Mom and Dad."
    Dan nodded. He fell silent for a long time and then finally said, "You can't help it, Amy --being glad he's alive. I think Mom and Dad would be proud of you. They valued life. It's what made them different from some of those other Cahills. And