I divide all readers into two classes; those who read to remember and those who read to forget.
William Lyon Phelps
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Cập nhật: Maximum Ride 3 - Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports
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A4Part 3 - Breaking Up Is Hard to Do
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hat do you know? It wasn’t all a dream after all. And somehow my hand still worked now. So, bonus.First thing we did was circle back and pick up the gear that Fang and I had stashed before we’d been caught in the desert. Then we flew through the cold night air, north, and then northeast. I can’t explain how I know where to go-it’s like I have an internal compass or something. At the School, when we were little, they’d done tons of experiments searching for our magnetism sensors, which tell us where magnetic north is.
They didn’t find them.
The farther north we went, the higher the mountains got, and the more snow was on the ground. Was it still December? January? Had we missed Christmas? I’d have to check a newspaper the next time we were in civilization.
Fang was still radiating fury, not looking at me, flying ahead of us, not talking to anyone. Nudge, Gazzy, and Iggy were also avoiding me, Angel, and Ari. I sighed.
Long flights are a good time to think things through. I guess that’s true for people on airplanes too. I went on autopilot, my wings moving powerfully through the cold, my lungs pumping air in and out. Every so often we’d hit a current and coast for a while, moving our wings in marginal fractions to take advantage of nature doing the work for us.
I was born to fly. And yeah, I know tons of people before me have said that, thought that.
But I was literally born to fly, made to fly, created with the purpose of being able to propel myself through the air as effortlessly as any bird.
And I’m fabulous at it, let me tell you.
“Max?”
Nudge had dropped back next to me, but she still wasn’t looking me in the eye, and she was as far away from Ari as possible.
“Yes?”
“I’m hungry. We already went through everything we had in the packs. I think the others are hungry too. Total keeps whining-you know what he’s like.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, uh, is there a plan to stop somewhere? Get some food?”
I looked at her. “There’s always a plan.”
And just like that, boom: I had one.
Not too long ago (though it felt like several lifetimes), Fang, Nudge, and I had found a vacation house in Colorado. No one had been using it then, but now it was ski season, and snow lay thick on the ground. Still, it was worth checking out.
Because the others were ahead of me, I sped up to be in front. Then I changed direction slightly, knowing exactly how to get there from here.
Taking a chance, I glanced at Fang.
“Where are you going? A little hideaway that Ari knows about?” Icicles crackled on his words.
“The ski house we found. Maybe it’s still unoccupied. Be a place to rest up.”
He shook his head. “No way! You know the rules-never return to a place you’ve been! If someone’s been there, they know it was broken into and will have beefed up their security. If no one’s been there, we pretty much cleaned out all the food anyway.”
God, I just hated it when he was reasonable and logical. I mean, if there was ever anything calculated to make me see red…
“I’ve thought of that,” I said calmly. “But we need some downtime, and it’s our best option.”
“It is not!” he said. “We should find a canyon or cave somewhere and hunker down-”
“I’m tired of caves and canyons!” I surprised both of us by snapping. “I’m tired of desert rat, medium rare! I want a roof and a bed and food that I don’t have to catch and skin!”
He stared at me, and instantly I felt embarrassed, as if I had just admitted I wasn’t tough as nails.
Well, too bad. That was how I felt.
I sped up, leaving Fang behind, and headed right for the vacation home.
Imagine, if you will, a somewhat run-down, not very much used vacation hacienda. For those of us without even an everyday hacienda, the notion of having a vacation one makes us positively giddy. Even an unrenovated one.
Just like before, we came down in the woods a distance from the house and crept stealthily nearer. As we got close, we heard voices and the purr of a car engine. Fang glared at me like, I told you so. People were here.
“Okay, did you lock up?” one voice said.
“Yeah. And the fire’s out.”
“Good. I can’t wait to come back.”
“Maybe Saturday, right?”
So there you go. Car doors slammed, and the voices were muffled. We pressed against tree trunks, trying to hide our breath coming out like smoke.
I looked back at Fang and raised my eyebrows in triumph. They were leaving. It was perfect. We waited for ten minutes after the car drove away, then, unrepentant little felons that we were, broke in.
I did try to do as little damage as possible, though. Must be all that girly sensitivity they wired into my DNA.
“It’s warm!” said Angel happily.
“Let’s check out the kitchen!” Nudge hurried toward it.
“This is great,” said Ari. Fang shot him a venomous glance, then scowled at me. I ignored him and headed to the kitchen. It was time for some serious chow.
“Oh, thank God they’re not vegetarians,” Nudge said with feeling, pulling out some cans of beef stew.
“What’s that one that’s worse than vegetarian?” Gazzy wrinkled his nose.
“Vegan,” I answered him. “Let’s crank those babies open.” I rummaged for an opener.
“Look, they even have some dog food!” the Gasman said, holding up a paper sack.
Total looked at him. “You’re kidding me, right?”
The fridge had some actual fresh food in it-cheese and apples. Jam. Butter.
“Oh, pig heaven,” Nudge breathed.
Ari had a hard time eating-he had ruined his mouth. I didn’t say anything. We all make choices, and we all have to live with them.
Have you thought about your choices lately, Max? asked the Voice. Are you making choices for the greater good or just for yourself ?
Nothing like a disembodied voice inside your head to dull your appetite. Clearly I’m not making choices just for myself, I thought acidly. If I were, I’d be reading a good book in a comfy hammock. Someplace warm.
“What did that guy mean, that China wanted to use us as weapons?” Iggy asked, pouring half a box of cereal into a bowl. Without spilling any.
“I don’t know.” I frowned. “I guess we could be spies? We couldn’t carry heavy arms or anything. I mean, who knows what those head cases have cooked up? Probably moronic stuff, like us duct-taped to a bomb, programming it at the last second or something.”
Gazzy laughed, and I looked around, thinking, My flock is together and safe. For now.
Well, my flock and Ari, the walking circus sideshow. And a talking dog. But still.
“Can I talk to you?” Fang was standing over me, his body radiating tension.
Oh, great. “Can it wait?” I ate the last piece of canned ravioli, then scraped the can with my fork.
“No.”
I debated it, but there was really no ignoring Fang when he was like that. Sighing, I pushed back my chair and stalked outside. On the porch, I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Okay, let’s have it out,” I said, trying not to show that he was upsetting me.
“Choose now,” he spat, his eyes practically shooting sparks. “Me or him.”
“Gosh, Fang, you romantic fool,” I said sarcastically. “How incredibly sexist-pig of you.”
He snorted in exasperation but didn’t look as dumb doing it as you’d think. “Not as a boyfriend, you idiot! I meant as a member of this flock! God, full of yourself, aren’t you? I mean, either he goes or I go. I’m not going to stay while you let someone who’s tried to kill both of us, more than once, stay!”
“I know if I think about it, I’ll figure that sentence out,” I snapped. “But I don’t have to choose between you! People change, Fang. Face it, he helped save our lives. He worked with Angel. And while we were there, he let me in on some of the stuff going on at the School.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure he had no ulterior motive for that! I’m sure he’s not wired, not tracking us, not telling everyone where we are right this second! I’m sure seven years of brainwashing and training just wore off once you batted your eyes at him!”
I gaped at him. “He’s seven years old, you jerk! And I’m not batting my eyes at anyone! Not you, not him, not anyone! He doesn’t even think like that!”
I’d never seen Fang so angry. His lips were pressed tightly together, and the skin around his mouth was white.
“And I’m sure you’re making the biggest mistake of your life!” he shot back. Years of living in hiding, flying under the radar both literally and figuratively, meant that even now, when we were both spitting fire, our voices were low, pitched to reach only each other. “Ari’s a killer!” Fang said. “He’s toxic! They’ve polluted him and screwed him up so much he can’t even think. He’s a total liability, and you’re out of your mind if you think it’s fine that he’s here!”
I hesitated. He was my right-hand man, my best friend, the one who always, always had my back. He’d die to save me, and I’d throw myself in front of a train for him without a second’s thought.
“Okay,” I said slowly, rubbing my temples. “I really think he’s changed, and his expiration date is gonna kick in soon, anyway. But I know his being here is bumming everyone out.”
“You picked up on that, huh, Sherlock?”
My eyes blazed. “I’m trying to meet you halfway, nimrod! I was going to say let me think about it. In the meantime, I’ll keep an eagle eye on him. First sign of anything suspicious, I’ll kick his butt out myself. Okay?”
Fang stared at me in disbelief. “Are you nuts? Did they finally send you around the bend? Ari needs to go now!”
“He doesn’t have anywhere else to go! He helped us, remember? They’re not gonna let him back in. Plus, I keep telling you, he’s only seven years old, no matter how big he is. How’s he gonna survive?”
“I don’t give a crap,” Fang said icily. “I’m fine with him not surviving at all. Remember this?” He yanked up his shirt to show the pink lines of his healed scars, the ones from when Ari had sliced him up like a tenderloin and almost made him bleed to death.
I shuddered just thinking about that awful day. “I remember,” I said quietly. “But I can’t just kick him out into the cold with no place to go, no way to survive. Not knowing that the whitecoats will be gunning for him now. It’s only for a few days-just till he expires.”
It felt weird saying it like that. Like retire. Expire. All different words for die. He was seven years old and wasn’t going to live to see eight.
And his first seven years had sucked, big-time.
Fang poked me hard in the chest.
“Hey!” I said.
He leaned very close, several inches taller than me, and got right in my face. But this time he didn’t kiss me.
“You’re making your worst mistake,” he snarled. “And it’s gonna cost you. You’ll see.”
With that, he turned and jumped off the porch, not even hitting the ground before his wide, dark wings took him soundlessly into the night.
You are reading Fang’s Blog. Welcome!
Today’s date: Already Too Late!
You are visitor number: 28,772,461
TO EVERYONE, EVERYWHERE
WARNING
HEADS-UP
EVIL SCIENTISTS WILL END LIFE AS WE KNOW IT
And even as we don’t know it.
I know what it’s called now, folks. It’s called the Re-Evolution Plan. And the By-Half Plan. We got out of the School (anyone who wants to bomb them, feel free). Now we’re in hiding, ha ha. While we were there, we found out that the plan is to basically KILL anyone with any kind of disease or weakness. The only people left will be perfectly healthy and have useful skills. So everyone bone up on something useful! Or go into hiding. And if you have the sniffles, crawl under a rock and don’t come out.
What would be useful, you ask? I’ve made a chart.
USEFUL
NOT USEFUL
Plumber
Politician
Carpenter
Publicist
Boat builder
Art history buff
Farmer
Celebrity chef
Sanitation crew
Interior designer
Cattle rancher
Pet psychic
Scientist
Celebrity rock/pop/hip-hop star
Military
Teen idol
Medical personnel
Life coach
So this would be a good time to examine your career goals.
Last time I checked, more than 28 million people had hit this blog. Way to go, people. Save yourselves. Save your brothers and sisters. Don’t let the whitecoats get you.
And if you see any flying kids, keep your mouth shut.
-Fang, from somewhere in America
I was shaking after Fang and I fought. It’s not that we never fought-we did all the time. But not like this. This was the maddest I’d ever seen him. After he took off, I stayed outside a minute, until I could paste a fake smile on my face. No sense in worrying the others.
When I went back inside, the flock and Ari and Total were all sprawled on the furniture or floor. They had that glazed look that comes from getting all the food you want, for once. I examined Ari. He was in a chair by himself. None of the others were anywhere near him. His clothes were still covered in blood.
I raided a closet and threw a flannel shirt at him. He looked up in surprise. “Thanks.”
“Okay, who wants first watch?” I said.
“Where’s Fang?” Gazzy asked.
“He went out for a while. He’ll be back,” I said shortly. Of course he would be back.
“I’ll take first watch,” Ari said.
I made an executive decision. “No, that’s okay. I’ll do it. The rest of you get some sleep.” I didn’t meet Ari’s eyes.
While the others slept, I went through the fridge and pantry and took everything that wouldn’t spoil and wasn’t too heavy. I repacked all of our packs and set them close to the door. I walked around silently, turning off lights, then went outside and flew up onto the snow-covered roof.
I perched by the brick chimney, which radiated heat.
Everything was quiet.
Ages later, Fang returned. I tried not to breathe a sigh of relief. I hadn’t been that worried, anyway. He flew up, saw me, and landed, flapping his wings for balance as he tried to find a place on the roof.
None of us are real big with the apologies, the heartfelt hugs. I glanced at him, then went back to keeping watch, doing regular 360 scans, listening, waiting.
“Twenty-eight million people have clicked on the blog,” he said.
Good Lord. “Huh.”
“I’m putting everything I know about what’s going on out there,” he went on. “Maybe if enough people get a heads-up, they can stop whatever’s happening.”
Stopping it is your job, Max.
“I thought we were supposed to stop it,” I said.
“What, with one hand tied behind your back?” Fang scoffed. “You don’t have to save the world, Max, no matter what they tell you.”
For some reason that stung-like he didn’t think I could do it. I’d always thought he’d be on board for anything I had to do.
“So now you and your blog are going to do it? I can go to bed and sleep in?” The words came out more caustic than I intended.
Fang shot me a sideways glance, his eyes unreadable. He shrugged and looked away.
Okay, now I was mad all over again. I hated it when Fang and I fought, but I hated even more him thinking that I-you know, wasn’t able to save the world by myself.
I’m sure a lot of you girls out there worry about the same thing, huh?
“Next you’ll be telling me you’ve got a Voice in your head,” I said sarcastically, standing up. I balanced on the roof, holding my wings out for help. Like a squirrel does with its tail. Only thirteen feet across.
“Maybe,” he said coolly, not looking at me.
I was speechless. Which is, as you know, very rare.
“Fine. You’re on second watch,” I muttered, and jumped down from the roof. I landed in the soft snow and went around to the porch.
Inside, Ari had not ripped everyone’s throats out while they slept. It occurred to me that Angel was telepathic, and she would have picked up on any evil intent that Ari had.
I was pretty sure, anyway.
I made the rounds, checked on the sleeping flock, then positioned myself in an armchair right next to where Ari slept heavily on the floor. That way, if he moved, he’d wake me up.
I was burning up over Fang. I couldn’t believe how full of himself he was. Him and his blog. Fine! Let him save the world! I still had my mission.
You both have hard decisions to make, Max. Decisions that will affect the whole world, your future. Everyone’s future.
Oh, good, so no pressure, I thought. I punched the cushion of the armchair into a better shape and closed my eyes.
I wasn’t going to sleep a wink.
In the morning, Fang and I broke up.
And just to set the record straight, I left him. A split second after he left me.
He told me he wanted to do his own thing, follow his own mission, as he put it. He wanted to act on leads that people were sending in to his blog.
I stared at him. “You’re basing your plan for human salvation on e-mail?”
He looked back at me. “You’re basing yours on a Voice inside your head. A Voice that isn’t actually just you talking to yourself. Right?”
Well, when he put it that way…
I just couldn’t comprehend what was happening.
And then we had to tell the kids. I went over a hundred conversations in my reeling head. What would they say? How could we explain this?
“I’ve decided to go my own way,” Fang told the flock abruptly. He cast a glance at Ari, then went on. “Almost anyone’s welcome to come with me.”
Go with him! Over my dead body.
“I think we should all stick together until Fang comes back,” I said calmly. Because if any of you pick him instead of me, I’ll kill you.
Four pairs of flock eyes, one dog, and Ari stared at us, back and forth.
“Holy crap,” said Total.
“You guys shouldn’t do this,” said Nudge, looking worried.
I shrugged, my face flaming. Fang was the one doing it.
“You crazy kids,” Total muttered. He paced back and forth on his short legs, then went and sat on top of Angel’s feet. She reached down absently and stroked his head.
“We have to choose?” Gazzy squeaked. He looked at Fang, then at me. Then at Ari.
Crap, I thought.
“I’ll go with Fang.” Iggy’s face was expressionless, but his voice hurt my heart. Shocked, I was glad he couldn’t see my face.
I swallowed, unable to talk.
“I’m going to stay with Max,” said Nudge unhappily, putting her hand in mine. I squeezed it, but I saw how she looked at Ari out of the corners of her eyes. She didn’t trust him, didn’t want him with us.
“I’ll go wherever Angel goes,” Total said. “If I must.”
The Gasman and Angel were silent. Angel must have been communicating with him telepathically because he shook his head and looked like he was concentrating hard. Finally Angel nodded her head decisively and nudged Total off her feet to come stand next to me.
“I’m going with Max,” she said.
“Yeah, whatever,” said Total grumpily, flopping back onto Angel’s feet.
“I’m going with Fang,” said Gazzy. I stared at him in astonishment.
Ari was the only one left, a glaring outsider to our family.
“No-brainer,” Ari mumbled, coming to stand by me. His face was starting to heal very fast, the way our wounds did. “Max.”
Please, please, don’t let me regret this, I prayed to a higher power. I mean, any more than I already regret it.
“Fine,” said Fang, slinging on his pack.
“Fine,” I said, tilting my chin up, wishing with all my strength that he wouldn’t do this, and making darn sure he couldn’t tell I was wishing it.
And that was that. The flock was split in two. And I really had no idea if I would ever see Fang and his group again.
A sign of leadership? Facing your remaining flock with a calm face and a confident air when it’s all you can do not to barf your guts up in the snow from stress and misery.
Half my flock was gone. Fang was gone. My right-hand man. How could he do this? Didn’t he need me?
I straightened my shoulders. I didn’t need him. Not anymore.
“Okay, guys,” I said to Nudge, Angel, and Ari. And Total. I could see that Nudge and Angel were trying to keep stiff upper lips. Possibly Ari and Total, but it was harder to tell with them.
“I can’t believe they went,” Nudge said, typically blurting out something I was thinking but would never say aloud. “We shouldn’t split up. We promised to never split up again. We need to all stick together.”
Tell that to Fang. “It’s not what I hoped would happen, but we’re fine,” I said authoritatively.
“What are we going to do now?” Angel asked. “Do we have a plan?”
I gave her a lofty look. “There’s always a plan. How many times do I have to tell you guys?” Come on, Max, pull a plan out of your hat, quick.
Go to Europe.
Oh, thank God. Goddess. Whatever. The Voice finally had something constructive to say and not just more fortune-cookie crap.
“We’re going to Europe,” I said firmly. I handed out packs, and only then realized that Ari or I would have to carry Total, mostly. Neither Nudge nor Angel would be able to take his weight for very long.
Great. I just had to hope that Ari wouldn’t eat Total.
“Europe!” Nudge sounded excited. “I’ve always wanted to go to Europe! Where are we going? I want to see the Eiffel Towel!”
“That’s tower,” I said. “Eiffel Tower. Actually, we’re headed to…”
England, first. Start with England. Look for Schools.
“England,” I said, holding my arms out for Total. He gave a little hop, and I zipped him inside my jacket. Only his small fuzzy face peeked out at the neck. He still looked a little mangy, and I hoped his face fur would fill in soon. “We’re going to look for Schools, gather information. Learn everything we can about this Re-Evolution Plan. And we’re going to have to move fast.”
“I’m on your side,” Ari said, sounding sincere. “I’m going to protect you no matter what.” He looked down, and I caught a glimpse of the scared seven-year-old he was inside. “Until my expiration date, anyway.”
I nodded, not letting any softer emotions through.
“Okay, then,” I said, starting to run down the driveway for a fast takeoff. “We head east!”
As always, I felt much, much better once we were high, high in the air. The land below us was a patchwork of green and brown, with tiny silver threads of rivers and gray clumps of cities. It was cold, and the wind made my eyes water, but I felt calmer, more in control, in the air.
It started to occur to me that England was really far away, over a honking big bunch of water. We’d flown for seven, eight hours straight a couple times, but it was hard, and we’d been wiped afterward. And God knew Ari wasn’t that strong a flier. Not with those weird taped-on wings. Hmm. No place to land and rest over the Atlantic Ocean.
Go to Washington DC. There’s a direct flight from Dulles.
Like, a plane?
Exactly like. Right down to the shiny silver outside.
Us…on a plane. That seemed so wrong, somehow. Redundant.
Plus, there was the whole cooped-up, claustrophobia issue.
You’ll be fine.
“We’re headed to Washington DC,” I told my new miniflock. “We’re going to take a plane from there.”
Everyone looked astonished. I wondered how we would get Ari, with his bizarre and scary appearance, through a busy airport.
“We’re going to take a plane?” Nudge asked, her voice practically squeaking.
Total frowned. “Isn’t that redundant?”
I sighed.
Flying west without Max was like flying with one wing missing, Fang thought. He kept seeing her face, furious, confused, and, even though she would never admit it, scared. He’d seen that face just about every day of his entire life. He’d seen it filthy with caked-on dirt, bruised and bloodied, snarling, laughing, sleeping, telling complicated lies with total sincerity…looking down at him with that light in her eyes, that communication between them….
But she had his back against a wall. What did she expect him to do? Just lie back and take Ari? Like, oh, sure, he’d just forget how many times Ari’d tried to kill them, how likely it was that he was wired and tracking them, how dangerous he was to have around. He was a disaster of patched-together body parts, upgrades, twisted emotions, psychological torture. A walking, flying time bomb about to explode.
Fang looked at it this way: If you knew you were checking out in a couple days no matter what, well, what did it matter what the heck you did? You could do crazy stuff, dangerous stuff, break any law, kill anybody. None of it would matter because you’d be cold and stiff in a couple days. Friends didn’t matter, loyalty didn’t matter. You could burn any bridge.
That was who Max was choosing to spend time with. Who she was letting hang around the younger kids.
Fang would have followed Max to the end of the world, wherever and whenever that was. If she’d dropped into the cone of an active volcano, he would have backed her up, no matter what.
But he couldn’t go along with Ari.
“Fang?” The Gasman’s voice was subdued. None of them liked being split up. If they felt as though half of them were missing, it was because they were.
Fang looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
“Where are we going?”
“West Coast,” Fang said. The opposite of wherever Max was going.
“What’s there?” Iggy asked.
Funny you should ask. “The biggest information-dissemination system in the world,” Fang said. “A place to get out news fast.”
The Gasman frowned. “What, like, some computer place? Some kind of tower?”
Fang shook his head. “People magazine.”
“Is this part of the ‘lie low and be inconspicuous’ plan?” Iggy asked pointedly.
“No,” Fang said, angling his wing tips just a hair to lead them into a twenty-three-degree turn. “This is part of the ‘blow the story open, post the blog, tell the world’ plan.”
“Oh.”
Yep. Always pretend there was a plan. A lesson he’d learned so very well from Max.
“I hate you! You’re such losers!” Iggy’s face was a picture of anger and frustration. “You’re just being jerks.”
Fang rolled his eyes. Then, remembering, he said, “I’m rolling my eyes, Iggy.”
“I’m shrugging my shoulders,” said the Gasman, taking a stupendous bite of hot dog. “I have no idea what the heck you’re talking about.”
“Describe the people on this beach,” Iggy said again. “This is Venice Beach! Part of LA. Home of Freak University! And you guys are, like, looking at maps and stuff!”
“Is there really a college named Freak University?” The Gasman looked thrilled.
“No,” Fang told him. So much for Gazzy’s dreams of higher education. Fang smoothed the map out on the slatted bench in front of them and started looking for landmarks.
Until Iggy kicked him.
“Ow! Dang it! What’s wrong with you?”
Unerringly, Iggy’s hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of Fang’s shirt. He pulled Fang’s face close to his own. “Describe. The. People.”
“There’s a million people,” Fang said, irritated. “Why? Are you meeting someone in particular here? Should I be looking for a man with a rose in his teeth, holding a New York Times?”
“This is Venice Beach,” Iggy said again. “Home of roller disco. I smell coconut oil. I hear high-pitched giggles. I know we must be surrounded by beach bunnies, and you’re looking at a map!”
Oh.
“What’s a beach bunny?” the Gasman asked, his mouth full.
Fang glanced around. “Beach bunny, schmeach bunny. Who cares? As long as they’re not Flyboys.”
Iggy groaned so loudly that several people nearby turned to look. Fang kicked his shin lightly, telling him to cool it.
“Who cares?” Iggy whispered, sounding outraged. “Who cares? I do! You can see them. I can’t. And God knows I won’t be able to get familiar with them by touch. Just do me a favor!”
What would Max do in this case? Fang wondered. Actually, he didn’t think Iggy would have talked to Max about it. This was a guy-guy situation.
Sighing, Fang looked around. “Um, okay. There are two girls over there. One’s in a white bikini. One has ‘Utopia’ written across her butt. They have big blond hair. Um, over there is an Asian girl, skating on Rollerblades, with her dog, like a greyhound or something, running beside her. Oops, she almost took out that stroller.”
“What’s she wearing?” Iggy asked.
“A striped bikini.”
“And knee guards,” the Gasman put in.
“Oh, man,” Iggy breathed. “More, more.”
He never would have done this in front of Max, Fang thought. She would have been all over him like ugly on an ape, telling him what a sexist pig he was.
But they were all guys here.
“Um, there’s a girl meeting her friend,” he went on. “Her friend is giving her an ice-cream cone. Oh-it’s dripping. Huh. It, uh, dripped on her…chest.”
Iggy drew in a hissing breath.
“It’s gonna stain for sure,” the Gasman said. “That’s chocolate.”
“Hmm,” Fang said, watching the girl dab at her chest with a paper napkin.
“What’s that sound?” the Gasman asked.
“Huh?”
“That sound,” the Gasman insisted. “What’s that sound? Fang.”
Fang blinked a couple times and looked down, where the Gasman was yanking on his sleeve. “Sound?”
Then he heard it. A droning hum. A teeming chorus of metallic voices.
Oh, crap.
“Up and away!” he said. “It’s Flyboys. They’ve found us!”
You are reading Fang’s Blog. Welcome!
Today’s date: Already Too Late!
You are visitor number: 972,361,007
Busted-up Hollywood
So, for those of you in the LA area, I need to fess up about the major wreckage over at the big Hollywood sign. A million hopefuls have fixated on that sign as a symbol of future movie careers, and I sure do apologize about it being destroyed.
But it wasn’t my fault.
The Gasman, Iggy, and I were minding our own business somewhere in the greater LA area (which extends from Tijuana up to Pismo Beach), and suddenly, out of nowhere, a couple hundred Flyboys dropped down on us. How did they know where we were? I always assumed they tracked us either by Max’s chip or by Angel’s dog.
Which, as you’ve probably heard, are with us no longer.
So how’d they know where to find us?
Unless one of us three is telling them?
Which is impossible, of course.
Anyway, like I told you before, Max saw thousands of Flyboys back at the School, hanging in rows, charging up. So today they let a bunch of ’em go for a test-drive. I have to tell you people, those things are fast. They’re strong. They can go for a long time without stopping.
But smart? Not so much.
Gaz, Iggy, and I shot up, fast, from where we’d been innocently hanging out. We’re always better off in the air. Of course jaws dropped, eyes popped, small children screamed, etc., when we suddenly whipped out wings and took flight. I guess we’re unusual even for LA.
The three of us against a couple hundred Flyboys? I don’t think so. Sure, maybe sixty, or even eighty, no problem. But not two hundred. Not even if Max were there.
Well, okay, maybe if Max were there. Maybe the two hundred. But she wasn’t there.
Anyway, Gaz, Iggy, and I instinctively implemented a tried-and-true plan of action, Plan Delta, which we’ve used any number of times and have down to an art.
Basically it means “run like hell.” Or rather, “fly like hell.”
We flew. We zipped out of there like lightning. The Flyboys don’t seem to have altitude problems-they followed us easily up into 747 cruising altitude, where even I was getting a little short of breath. Like the Erasers, they’re not too nimble, but they’re wicked fast and scarily strong.
One of Iggy’s newest explosives took out about fifty of them, and sorry to all those folks showered by bits of Flyboy metal and flesh matrix down at that MTV party on the beach. The rest of them tore after us, and we couldn’t outrun them.
Then I saw the Hollywood Hills. We flew right for the sign and, at the very, very last second, screamed into a direct vertical climb. I mean, my belt buckle scraped one of the letters. But the three of us made it, shooting straight up like rockets.
The Flyboys were not so fortunate.
One after another, they plowed right into the sign, setting off electrical charges that shorted them out and made quite a few of them explode like metallic, furry popcorn. And if you think that’s a gross description, be glad you weren’t there, being pelted by the little pieces. I think only about six or seven of them managed to avoid the carnage, and I have no idea what happened to them.
After we’d busted our sides laughing, we blew out of there, and now we’re hiding. Again.
Us: roughly 200. Hard to tell with all the parts flying.
Them: 0
Take that, you whitecoat schmucks. Now you owe California a new Hollywood sign.
-Fang, somewhere in the West
Post a Comment on Fang’s Blog
Busted-up Hollywood
108 comments
Kewl dude 326 said…
O man Fang thats so awesome, I mean when u guys popped all the flyboys. I would a been bustin my gut 2. Keep flyin, man.
San Diego
11:51 AM
Sugargrrl said…
Dear Fang,
I’m so glad your alright. I hate those flyboys and hope they all crash and burn. If u need a place to stay in Roanoke, Virginia, just e-mail me.
12:14 PM
Heather said…
We should all make posses and search everywhere for labs and Schools and stuff! There are millions and millions of kids in the world, and we can fix what the grown-ups have polluted and destroyed! Landfills and oil slicks and endangered species and wiping out forests and driving gas hogs and not caring about the environment and not caring about animals! Their time of destroying everything is over! It’s time for Green Kids to unite!
Heather Schmidt
President, GreenKidsforaGreenerPlanet.org
12:57 PM
Streetfightr said…
Us kidz got 2 take over! De groneups hav recked everything! Dere destroyin r whole planet! De kidz shuld run everything! Dey want us 2 b quiet! We won’t b quiet no more!
Brooklyn
1:20 PM
Chen Wei said…
Fang, I was wondering: do u have a girlfriend?
Hong Kong
P.S. I am 15 years old but look younger.
2:40 PM
Carlos said…
I say we burn all the science labs! Make all the grown-ups into slaves!
Texas
3:07 PM
Anonymous said…
Carlos, no, that’s stupid. We need science. Science isn’t bad by itself. It’s just bad when bad people use it to do bad things. We can do good things with science. Like feed the world. I don’t want to make all grown-ups slaves. My parents are grown-ups, but they’re all right.
Concerned Future Scientist
Louisiana
4:21 PM
Adide said…
I am afraid the grown-ups are going to destroy our planet. I want them to stop. I wish they would use science to make better crops and make more rain. Instead of bombs, they should make more schoolbooks for children.
Uganda
4:26 PM
cobra said…
Fang, i think i saw u guyz flyin u wuz over my uncles deli in Lincoln Park.
Chicago
5:27 PM
Dita said…
I can’t believe you and Max split up! You guys should stick together! Now I’m even more worried about all of you! Be extra careful!
Mumbai
6:08 PM
Sean said…
Fang, I want to be a bird kid. I don’t care what it takes. I would go through anything to be able to fly and be with the flock. Tell me where to meet you. I want to join you today.
Manchester, England
6:35 PM
Sue P said…
I want to join too! I would love to have wings but think it’s too late for me. It would hurt. But I will fight for you on the ground! Just tell me where and when!
Palm Beach
6:38 PM
Fang turned off the computer after wading through thousands of messages like these. Max didn’t think the blog could help, but he was sure it could. He bet he could raise an army of a hundred thousand…ordinary kids, who might be brave and committed, but who would have zero fighting skills and would quickly be slaughtered.
He sighed and lay back, resting his head on one arm. This leader stuff sucked.
My miniflock was doing all right, thanks to Angel. For future reference, here are some things you can do if you’re a six-year-old genetic anomaly with the ability to control other people’s minds:
1) Get business-class tickets for yourself and three other genetic anomalies, plus a dog, on British Airways.
2) Convince airport security that your talking Scottie is a service dog and therefore allowed everywhere, including the ladies’ room, which frankly I was not thrilled about.
3) Make people not really notice the hulking, butt-ugly, damaged Eraser loping at your side.
4) Once on board, help people think it’s normal for a dog to get his own seat and meals.
5) Arrange for us to each have three meals at a time. First-class meals, not that crap they serve to the poor schmucks in Economy.
“Total!” I whispered. “People have to pass you to get to the bathroom. Quit growling.”
“Sorry,” he muttered. “They’re getting too close to my steak. Speaking of which, could you cut it into little pieces?”
I leaned over and quickly cut up the steak on Total’s tray. I saw Angel grinning at me, and I couldn’t help grinning back. Yes, my flock had been split apart: Half of my family was AWOL. We were homeless and on the run, as per usual. We were going to a strange place with no idea of what to do once we got there. And we were trapped in a big sardine can with a bunch of strangers who I was praying weren’t Erasers or whitecoats.
And yet.
“Nice chairs,” Ari said, patting the arms with his clawed, oversize paws.
“This is kind of fun,” said Angel. She gave a little bounce in her seat and started flicking through her movies on demand.
“Max?” Nudge whispered from across the aisle. “Do you think these people are okay?” She nodded back at the other passengers.
“I hope so,” I said, keeping my voice down. “But I’m not positive. I wouldn’t put it past them for this all to be a setup, and we’re surrounded by whitecoats who are going to turn on us. But Angel hasn’t picked up anything, like, no evil intent coming from anyone on the plane. So I’m hoping it’s okay.”
“I’ve never been on a plane,” Nudge said.
“None of us have. It’s kind of weird, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s really comfortable. These chairs turn into beds, you know? And the little TV and the magazines and the food and people getting you stuff.”
I nodded. We were pretty dang pampered. I mean, compared with our usual glamorous life of sleeping in subway tunnels and eating out of trash cans.
“But it seems weird to be up in the air and not…outside, you know? And I miss-” She stopped, biting her lip.
“Me too,” I said quietly. “But I’m sure they’re fine. And I’m sure we’ll see them again soon.” Because I was going to track them down like dogs after my mission was over. I was gonna rag on Fang about this for the rest of his life. He couldn’t get rid of me that easily.
“I hope nothing goes wrong with this plane,” Nudge whispered. “It seems kind of…unnatural for a machine to be, like, up in the air. I don’t get how it’s staying up.”
“It’s got honking big engines on it,” I said, decisively clarifying the situation for her in my leaderly way. “But I tell you what-if something happens to this plane, the four of us will be the ones who make it.”
Nudge’s face cleared. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t think of that.”
“Now, rest up before our British invasion.”
Cushy seven-hour respite aside, it was time to get down to business once we landed at London’s Heathrow Airport. We had gone the whole flight without anyone turning into an Eraser and attacking us, and the plane hadn’t dropped out of the sky like a lead weight, so it was an excellent start.
For a few moments after we got off, I paused, hoping that maybe the Voice would cut me a break and give clear and followable instructions.
But no. The Voice was MIA, and we were on our own.
Which was fine. I’d gotten us all this far. The Voice was a recent phenomenon, and as far as I was concerned, it could stay gone.
“Okay,” I said, clapping my hands. My miniflock gathered around me. “The first thing we should do is find an Internet café, get on the Web, and Google Itex in England. Even if we don’t find them by name, we’ll probably see other links that can help us.”
“Whoa, whoa, hold the phone,” said Total. “We’re in London. Are you telling me we’re not going to go see the Crown Jewels?”
“And the Tower of London?” Angel added.
“Ooh, look-Madame Tussauds!” Nudge said, pointing at a poster on a kiosk. “We’ve got to go there!”
Once again I was nonplussed by my flock’s ability to completely put aside the fact that we were fighting for our lives. For the lives of the entire world.
Frowning, I pressed on. “Itex probably has its main offices in the suburbs, not right in the city.”
“Buckingham Palace,” Ari startled me by saying. “With the guys in the funny fur hats.”
“Yeah, yeah, Buckingham Palace!” Nudge agreed without looking at him.
I drew in a breath, ready to start issuing commands.
You know, when you’re right, that’s all you get to be, said the Voice.
“What the heck does that mean?” I asked, irritated.
“Buckingham Palace,” Nudge explained. “Where the queen lives. And Mr. Queen.”
“No, no, not you,” I muttered. I leaned against a wall and closed my eyes for a second. You wanna explain that? I thought. Or is that one of those kung fu koans I’m supposed to meditate on at the top of a mountain? Ommm.
“Max?” Angel asked. “Do you have a headache?” She sounded worried.
“No, I’m okay,” I said. “Gimme a minute. And keep an eye out.”
My flock waited patiently, unlike me. I was ready to rake my fingernails down the wall.
Yes, you should pursue your mission, said the Voice, miraculously answering me. But you haven’t learned how to balance your leadership. You have to lead, but you must also listen.
And just let them do whatever they want? I demanded silently.
Max, they’re children. They’re just along for the ride. A strong leader can bend sometimes.
I opened my eyes. “Fine. We’ll take a tour, hit the hot spots. Angel, get us on one of those double-decker bus tour things.”
“Okay!” she agreed happily, while Nudge punched the air. We headed for the Ground Transportation area.
“I want to ride on top!” Total said, trotting at Angel’s side. “But in Max’s jacket, ’cause it’s cold.”
“Oh, yay,” I said so no one could hear me. You’re wrong, Voice, I thought. They’re kids, but they’re not just along for the ride. I need every one of them if I’m going to succeed.
“Those aren’t the real jewels.” I was certain of it. No way would they just have the real Crown Jewels of England hanging out in a glass case where anyone could knock it over.
“They’re so beautiful,” Nudge breathed, leaning as close as she could to them. “The Imperial State Crown. Golly. I would love to have a crown like that.”
And I was so sure she would get her wish, because bizarre science experiments so often become crowned heads of state. Jeez.
“Get a load of the scepter,” Total whispered. “How do you like that rock?”
“It says they’re real,” said Angel, pointing to a placard. “That’s the real Cullinan diamond. I like the Orb.”
“What, and the queen just comes and gets them when she’s going to Parliament?” I scoffed. I turned to Ari. “What does that other sign say? On your side.”
Ari looked at me, and for just a second he was almost recognizable as the little boy who used to follow me around so long ago. His face flushed, highlighting the scars that had pretty much healed over. “Don’t know,” he said, turning away. “Can’t read.”
“Let’s go to Madame Tussauds,” said Total. “We must!”
“I don’t know who any of these ‘famous’ people are,” said Angel, once we were inside Tussauds.
We were moving around a room full of wax celebrities, and frankly, the only way I would have been more uncomfortable was if I had rocks in my shoes. For those of us who grew up being subjected to evil scientists’ tests, walking around lifelike figurines who could leap out at us at any second was totally unnerving.
I was watching the figures like a hawk (get it? li’l’ flock humor for ya there), waiting for someone’s eyes to move, someone’s chest to rise and fall with breathing. So far, none of them had budged. Which didn’t mean none of them would.
“Me neither,” said Nudge, sounding disappointed.
“Me neither,” said Ari. Next to all of these smooth wax figures, his rough features and voice stood out like a brick in a jewelry case.
“Um, I think this one is Brad Pitt,” I said, pointing. “Who knew he was this tall?”
“Who’s Brad Pitt?” Angel asked.
Total tsked and scratched behind one ear with a hind leg. “Only a world-famous movie star,” he said. “Read a paper sometimes, will you?”
I let out a breath. “I’m sorry, guys. I’m trying to get on board with the whole sightseeing thing, but this place gives me the willies.”
“Is that the technical term?” asked Total. “The willies?”
“Yes,” I said. “Anyway, one of these suckers is going to move, and then I’m going to take the whole room out. I have to get out of here.”
“Oh, thank God,” said Nudge. “I hate this place.”
“Me too,” said Angel.
Total shook his head, looking disgusted. “You people. This is modern culture.”
Next up, the Itex Corporation. The major industrial giant that seemed to be behind all the recombinant-DNA experiments; as well as the Re-Evolution Plan, also known as the By-Half Plan; and who knew how many other lunatic plans of mass destruction and mayhem.
Basically, the last place any of us would ever, ever want to go voluntarily.
The place we had to go.
Their office was in…
“Threadgill-on-Thames?” Nudge read carefully.
“It sounds like a tweed theme park,” said Angel.
“It’s pronounced ‘Tems,’” Total said, licking one paw. “Can I have another potato chip?”
I passed him a newspaper cone full of hot fried fish and french fries. Those wacky Brits called fries “chips.” And potato chips were “crisps.” And cookies were “biscuits.” I had no idea what real biscuits were called. Wangdoodles?
“And the vinegar?” Total asked.
I sprinkled vinegar on it for him, then looked at the map again. The Internet cafés we’d found were for people with their own computers. Since Fang had taken our computer, we’d had to go to a library.
Of course, we’d found that Itex was everywhere, with branches in fourteen cities throughout the United Kingdom. But the main office seemed to be about a thirty-minute flight from London, west-southwest.
“I like fish and chips,” Ari said. “They’re yummy.”
“Uh-huh,” I said distractedly, tracing a line on the map.
I still couldn’t believe I had to go kill the dragon without Fang by my side. He had abandoned me, Nudge, and Angel. Was he so pissed about Ari that he didn’t care if we lived or died? Did he think his blog was really going to solve everything? It’s not like a bunch of angry kids with pitchforks and torches was going to end Itex’s reign of terror.
The word terror suddenly made me think about when Gazzy had told those FBI guys his name was Captain Teror. My eyes were hot and itchy in a flash, and I had trouble swallowing. Gazzy. Iggy. I missed them so much. I’d had dreams about them all night and woke up convinced something bad would happen to them and I wouldn’t be able to help.
I was going to kill Fang. That was totally on my list, right after “save the world.”
Jerk. Cretin. Oh, God. He was part of me; he was in my blood. My blood was in him, literally. How could he have done this?
I glanced over at where Ari was drawing the last of his french fries through a mound of ketchup, his too-large hand making it look like a toothpick. I’d been watching him carefully, and so far he seemed loyal, sincere, not acting suspiciously. But what if I really had made my worst mistake?
I know what you’re thinking: Of course you didn’t, Max! It was Fang! He made the mistake!
And yes, we all know that my making a mistake is very, very rare. Exceedingly rare.
Still.
I was going to keep an eye on Ari.
“Max?” Nudge was looking at me. “Earth to Max.”
“Huh? What?”
“We’re going to fly there, right?” Nudge asked, pointing to Threadgill-on-Thames on the map. “Like, fly fly, not plane fly, right?”
“Right.” I glanced out the window. “We’ll go as soon as the sun sets. In the meantime, anyone want more tea?”
“Yeah, I’ll have some,” said Total. Of course.
“Oh, lovely,” I breathed, peering through a tall bank of hedges. “Geez, they’re not even pretending to gussy this place up, are they?”
“It looks so depressing,” said Nudge softly. “I would hate to work there.”
“You think?” I said. “I would hate to undergo cruel and unusual scientific experimentation there. It looks like the kind of forbidding, twisted place where evil scientists would do totally unthinkable, gruesome experiments. Like graft other species’ DNA into innocent infants.”
“For example,” said Nudge.
“What are we gonna do here?” Ari asked. The rest of us were so slender and lithe, thanks to our birdlike bones, that Ari seemed especially hulking and clunky in comparison. Now he loomed over us in the dark as we took our first look at the Itex British headquarters.
Fittingly, the building used to be a prison. And boy, had the Brits cornered the market on dank and gloomy. Itex headquarters had an unmistakable eau de prison about it-looming, blocklike rectangular buildings made of dirty brown brick.
If the leader of Itex is reading this right now, I have two words for you: seasonal plantings.
The entire thing was surrounded by an electrified chain-link fence at least twelve feet high, topped with razor wire, in case getting repeatedly shocked with five thousand volts wasn’t enough of a deterrent. And okay, if you’re totally nuts, maybe it wouldn’t be.
Of course, we were just going to fly over it anyway.
I heard Angel swallow in the quiet night and looked down at her. Her face was unusually pale, her eyes wide.
“What’s up?” I asked her, going on alert.
She swallowed again and reached for my hand. I squeezed hers and knelt down to her level.
“I can feel thoughts and stuff coming from inside,” she said brokenly. “From the whitecoats and also, like, minds without bodies.”
Brains on a Stick, I thought.
“They’re thinking awful stuff,” Angel went on. “They’re really bad. Like, evil. They want to do their plan and they don’t care what they have to do to make it happen. They don’t mind killing people. Or animals.”
Or any combination thereof, I thought.
“How about other bird kids?” I asked. “Other recombinant life-forms, Erasers?”
She shook her head, her curls shining in the moonlight. “They’re all dead. They killed them all.”
So of course we had to get in there! I mean, why would we pass up a chance to break into a place where delusional mass murderers were targeting creatures just like us? What would be the fun of avoiding that situation?
“Do we really have to go in there?” Nudge asked. “’Cause, I mean, if we don’t actually have to, then I’d rather not. I’d rather kick back somewhere.”
I smiled at her and tried to smooth her unruly brown hair. “You and me both, kid. But I have this whole saving-the-world gig, and I kind of have to do this. You with me?”
She nodded, not looking happy, then put a fierce expression on. “I’m ready. Let’s bust this place up!”
“Me too!” said Angel. “Those people are really evil. They shouldn’t be allowed to hurt anyone else. We have to fix it so they can’t.”
“We have to end this now, here!” Ari said.
“That’s right!” I said, holding my fist out to tap, like we did at bedtime. “We’re gonna rain fire on this place! When we’re done, there’ll just be a greasy spot!”
Remember the Hydra, Max?
I almost jumped. Would I ever get used to an uninvited Voice inside my head? My guess at this point was no.
Hydra, Hydra, I thought. Sounds like a…sprinkler?
No. The Lernaean Hydra, one of the labors of Heracles. Every time Heracles cut off a head, two grew back in its place.
Oh. That. Yeah, I saw a cartoon about it once. What about it?
Think it through, Max, said the Voice. It’ll come to you.
I frowned suspiciously. Is this one of those metaphor things? Would it kill you to just come out and tell me?
Silence.
Of course.
“Max?” Angel asked.
I held up a finger. “One sec. Voice imparting unnecessary knowledge.”
Total flopped down in the grass and rested his head on his front paws.
Okay. Hydra, I thought. I remembered the cartoon I had seen, where a big muscular mouse dressed in a lion skin had been trying to lop catlike heads off this giant dragon thing.
But I wasn’t getting the connection.
Oh, wait. A head got cut off, and two grew back in its place.
We were planning to destroy this Itex headquarters. Did that mean if we destroyed it, two would grow back in its place? Or, like, two others would become more powerful? Hmm.
The Hydra itself must be killed, Max. The whole thing at once. This is just one head. Find the body and kill it.
I thought. I remembered the map I had glimpsed through an open door back at the School, when Ari had been taking me around. It was a map of the world. Almost every country had had an Itex symbol somewhere on it, and many had had smaller stars as well.
Because I’m smarter than the average recombinant bear, I realized that we needed to check out some of the other Itex branches, in other countries, to find the heart of the beast. Thanks a lot, Voice, I thought a little sarcastically, to no reply. Will you make up your mind about just where the heck we’re supposed to be going? God, I was so tired. A world saver’s work is never done.
I hunkered down next to the hedge and motioned everyone closer.
“Guys, I do believe that France is calling our names.”
Nudge frowned. “They’re yelling for flying bird kids?”
“Yes.” I stood up and held out my arms for Total. He jumped up, and I zipped him into my jacket. “Does anyone know any French?”
“I know how to ask for a spunky Chablis,” said Total, his voice somewhat muffled. I unfolded my wings and stretched them out, ready to take off.
“I know some Spanish,” said Nudge. “Cerrado and abierto. Stuff like that.”
“That’ll be good in Spain. In France, I guess we’ll find out if Angel can read minds in French.”
Angel shook out her wings, looking intrigued. “I don’t know,” she said. “But you know what? I want some pastry while we’re there.”
“Ooh, I second that emotion,” said Total.
I stifled a response-had Madame Tussauds taught them nothing?-and took off into the chilly night, kind of feeling like Harry Potter escaping from the Dursleys. Except in our world, Dursleys were everywhere, were heavily funded, and had a strong scientific bent.
Los Angeles, gangbangers, huh!
“If they’re not the Crips or the Bloods, does that mean they’re the Cruds?” Iggy asked in all seriousness.
“Shh!” Fang told him. “Keep it down! Don’t throw gas on this particular fire, okay?”
“Okay,” said Iggy, but Gazzy chuckled and slapped him a high five.
“Besides, they’re the Ghosts,” Fang reminded him. “They have it on all their jackets.”
“Oh, I must have missed that,” Iggy said sarcastically, and Fang mentally smacked his forehead.
“Yo,” someone said, and he spun to see a guy named Keez walking toward them. That morning they’d been lying low in an empty lot in east LA, and they’d suddenly been surrounded by a big gang. Literally a street gang: the Ghosts. They’d all tensed to fight, but one of the gang, Keez, had recognized Fang, Iggy, and Gazzy from the news. He’d also been reading Fang’s blog. The gang controlled this part of the city, and Keez had offered them a safe house.
Now he nodded at Fang. “This way, dude.”
“We’re famous,” Iggy whispered, so low that Fang could barely hear him.
“So’s swine flu,” Fang whispered back.
They followed Keez to an abandoned building in the middle of a scary, decrepit block. People eyed them curiously, but with a simple hand motion from Keez, they looked away.
“I want a Ghosts jacket,” the Gasman whispered to Fang. Fang felt the Gasman’s hand start to reach for his, then drop. Since they’d split, the Gasman had been trying to be super tough. Fang had to remind himself that he was just a little kid. Max, though she was about the toughest person Fang had ever met, was weirdly good with all the mom stuff, putting bandages on, calming the kids down when they had bad dreams. He’d never realized how much extra work that took.
As they followed Keez up some broken brownstone steps, Fang reached out and took the Gasman’s hand. The kid looked up at him, surprised, but then Fang felt the small hand tighten around his. So he’d done the right thing.
Two big guys were standing guard at the front door, but a nod from Keez made them step aside. Inside it was a lot like that burned-out crack house Max and Fang had found in DC, only with less cozy charm. But it was relatively safe and hidden, and those were two of his favorite things.
“Crash here.” Keez motioned them into a shell of a room that looked as if one of Iggy’s bigger experiments had exploded in it not long ago.
“Cool. Thanks, man,” Fang said. Then he, Iggy, and the Gasman collapsed on the floor. It was time for Fang to step up and make a plan.
“This is your plan?” Iggy’s voice held disbelief.
“Yep. Grab your backpack.”
The Gasman didn’t say anything, but Fang wondered if he was wishing he’d decided to go with Max. The first day it had seemed like an adventure. Now it was starting to seem just…painful. But there was no way Fang was going back-until Max ditched the cretin.
The offices of People magazine were on about four floors of a colossal building in downtown LA. Fang was sure that if Angel were here, it would be no problem for them to see the president of the whole company and convince him to publish an entire special issue about Itex and their evil ways.
But he was Fang, and he could work his own wiles. He held up a bag of deli sandwiches, and the front guard signed them in. “Delivery elevators in the back,” he said in a bored voice.
“Let’s take the stairs,” Gazzy whispered.
“We’re going to the twenty-seventh floor,” Fang whispered back.
Basically, stepping into the elevator felt like volunteering for psychic trauma. It was small, enclosed, and full of other people, all of them better dressed and significantly more hygienic than the bird kids.
On the twenty-seventh floor, they practically leaped out of the elevators into a designer reception area bustling with people. Fang held on to his bag and approached the main desk.
A guy in his early twenties with mod rectangular glasses looked at them as though they were three scruffy homeless children.
“Can I help you?”
“I need to speak to your top reporter,” Fang said coolly. “I have a story with worldwide implications. You print what I tell you, and this magazine will go down in history.”
The reception guy was unimpressed. “Do you have an appointment? With anyone?”
Of course not. That would require a level of forethought that Fang hadn’t mastered yet. He felt the deli bag had been a master touch. “I just need to speak to someone, right now.”
The guy sneered. “I don’t think so.”
“If they find out you didn’t let me talk to someone, you’ll get canned so fast you’ll feel like tuna.”
That was when the guy pressed the button for security.
Fang tapped Iggy’s hand twice. “Let’s go! Now!”
Two burly security guards picked up their pace as soon as they saw Fang, Iggy, and Gazzy race toward the stairwell. Fang knew that when someone was chasing you, you never got on the elevator, twenty-seven floors up or no. They could lock you between floors, be waiting for you. You always took the stairs.
Fang yanked the door open, and the three of them flung themselves downward, four steps at a time. They pushed past startled employees and almost collided with someone delivering sandwiches. Behind them, they heard stairwell doors being opened and security guards yelling. On one floor, the door opened right as they passed, and Fang felt someone take a swipe at his jacket. He continued to leap downward, keeping track of Iggy and the Gasman out of the corners of his eyes. Unfortunately, there were no windows in the stairwell that they could escape through.
The stairs felt endless and went back and forth so tightly that Fang started to feel seasick. Keep it together, he told himself. Keep it together. You’ve got a little kid and a blind guy depending on you.
“Okay, about to reach bottom!” Fang alerted Iggy after endless minutes. “Eight more steps, then a hard left!”
“Gotcha,” said Iggy.
Finally they reached bottom. If they could just make it out the front doors…
There were eight security guards waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Fang whirled to head back upstairs, but the door closest to them opened, and four more guards started thundering toward them. The three bird kids bolted into the lobby, trying to break through the line of guards.
Unsuccessfully.
“We’re leaving!” Fang snarled, but a guard had the back of his jacket and his belt loop. He marched Fang to the big glass doors, muscled them open, and tossed Fang down the building’s front steps.
“You don’t weigh nothin’!” he said in surprise.
“Don’t come back!” said another guard.
Iggy and the Gasman landed on the sidewalk next to Fang, and they quickly scrambled to their feet. After some of the situations they’d been in, getting thrown onto the sidewalk like trash wasn’t that bad, but it meant that Fang’s big plan had bombed. He dusted off his pants, opened the deli bag, and passed out squashed sandwiches as they made their way back to the safe house. WWMD? Fang wondered. What would Max do? Besides let a murderous creep into their lives, that is.
“No go, eh?” Keez was honing a switchblade on a spinning metal wheel.
“Nope.”
“You shoulda whooshed out those wings, man,” he said. “I saw you guys on the news once. You got them wicked wings, right? That woulda done it for sure.”
“Uh, I didn’t want to resort to cheap tricks,” Fang muttered. Plus, he hadn’t thought of it. Keez was right. That would have worked like a charm. Shoot.
On to Plan…H?
“The plan is hot dogs?” said the Gasman, enthusiastically wolfing down his second one. “I like this plan!”
Fang did a quick 360, but this section of El Prado had only the usual assortment of dealers, homeless people, and Ghosts. Nothing too threatening.
“The plan is not hot dogs,” Fang said, wiping his fingers on his jeans. “We’re just killing time till the real plan falls into place.” Of course, there was no real plan-yet. But Fang was the leader of this particular flock, and leaders always had to look confident, even when they were blowing smoke. Another lesson he’d learned from Max.
“All right, my man,” Keez said to the hot-dog vendor, and shook his hand. Fang gathered that Keez had just been comped about a dozen hot dogs in return for the vendor’s safety on this street. Interesting.
Iggy was halfway through his fourth hot dog when he suddenly froze in midchew. Fang watched his face alertly.
“What?” he said.
“Crud,” Iggy said, throwing down his hot dog. “Flyboys.”
“You guys scatter!” Fang told Keez quickly. “We’ve got trouble, but they’re only after us.”
“How do they keep finding us?” the Gasman wailed, then stuffed the rest of his hot dog into his mouth.
“We’ll stay!” Keez said, pulling out his cell phone.
“No, man, you don’t under-” was as far as Fang got before he heard the buzzing, and then it was too late.
There were about eighty of them, and they swarmed above the roof of a nearby building like a cloud of wasps.
“What the heck is that?” said Keez. Already other Ghosts were pouring out of buildings, running up the street.
“Robots,” Fang said tersely, and unfolded his wings. “You guys should split.”
He heard a couple of gasps, and one Ghost said, “Holy Mother.”
“We’re staying,” said Keez, and he pulled out his switchblade. He waved his arms at his troops, yelling over the increasing noise. “Fan out!”
“Eighty Flyboys-coming from ten o’clock,” Fang told Iggy. Iggy and the Gasman both snapped out their wings, causing more indrawn breaths and muttered exclamations. “On the ground, the Ghosts can help. We’ll do what we can from the air.”
Iggy nodded his understanding, and then Keez said, “Here!” and pressed a long crowbar into Iggy’s hands. Iggy grinned and threw himself skyward.
One of his wings brushed a Ghost on the downswing, and the Ghost ducked, looking astonished.
Fang judged they had about four seconds before impact. “They’re metal based,” he said quickly. “Covered with skin. Knives won’t do squat. Pipes and baseball bats would be better.”
“Bats we got,” said Keez, handing Fang one. “And we got something else too.” Fang saw that three Ghosts had run up with what looked like a bazooka, maybe five feet long. There was no time to ask where they’d gotten that. Fang ran a few steps and leaped into the air, hoping to lead the Flyboys away from the gang that had protected him.
His heart pounding, blood roaring in his ears, Fang flew straight at the cloud of Flyboys.
“We will destroy you,” the Flyboys droned. “You have no escape.”
That was the most imaginative, threatening thing the whitecoats had programmed these ’droids to say? “Talk about lame,” Fang muttered. Mechanical heads swiveled, laser-red eyes locked on to him, and a bunch of the robots split away from the main group to face him down.
Fang readied his aluminum baseball bat. A sudden whining, whistling sound made him backpedal hard. Fifty feet away, a ground-to-air missile flew directly into the mass of Flyboys. Its aim was off and it exploded too late, above them. But it still blasted about fifteen metallic heads off, and Fang had a moment to hope that the Gasman had enjoyed the display.
Then everything went into fight speed: super slow and super fast at the same time. Fang raced among the Flyboys and started swinging, feeling the numbing shock of hitting Flyboy metal as hard as he could. Within a minute he discovered that hitting a shoulder at a certain angle would pop an arm out of joint, and hitting a head sideways from one direction and then quickly downward would often snap it clean off.
Well, not clean, actually-it was totally gross, made worse by the sparks and dangling electrical wires he saw as the headless body plummeted downward.
“Oof!” Fang lost his breath when a Flyboy kicked him in the stomach. It was different from fighting Erasers. Erasers were clumsier but more adaptable. Flyboys were stronger and more precise, but their moves were limited.
Fang couldn’t see the Gasman. He caught sight of Iggy, wielding the crowbar like a sword, slashing and bashing Flyboys with his long reach. His nose was bloody and one eye was swollen, but he was holding his own. Fang heard gunfire and small explosions on the ground, and he hoped the Gasman had gotten out of there.
Bam! Fang blocked a Flyboy’s punch, then swung his bat furiously, landing a blow to the back of its head. The head made a simultaneous clunking and squishing sound, but the Flyboy wasn’t seriously damaged.
Fang started to swing again but was blocked by another Flyboy coming in from the side. A hard, jaw-snapping kick right in Fang’s kidney made him gasp, and he instantly folded his wings and dropped like a stone for about fifteen feet, long enough to recover. Then he poured on the power and shot straight up, swinging the bat with all his strength, managing to make two Flyboys drop. He damaged another so badly it flew crookedly away, smoke streaming from its neck.
And just like that, it was over. The remaining fifteen or so Flyboys got into formation, then they spun and flew off as one. Fang glided to where Iggy was hovering, listening for any remnant of sound.
“S’over,” he told Iggy. “Let’s go.”
They flew down to El Prado, as police cars from all over the city raced toward the area.
On the ground, the street was littered with broken bits of Flyboys. They found the Gasman with Keez, and though they both looked beat up, they were standing.
“Police coming,” Fang said. “We gotta go.”
“All right, man,” said Keez, holding out a swollen, bloody hand. “Whew! That was some action! This kid here is dangerous!”
The Gasman puffed his chest out.
“Thanks,” said Fang. “Thanks for everything.” Then the three of them took off. From above, Fang saw the Ghosts scattering into buildings, down alleys, into cars that screeched off. By the time the police got there, all that was left was a scattering of completely unexplainable chunks of metal.
Total squirmed inside my jacket like a gopher in a hole. We were super high, keeping a lookout for planes, making our way across France. We hadn’t bothered with the Itex plant in England, since it was just a single head of the hydra. We knew there were about four different Itex plants in Germany, including its world headquarters, and that’s where we were headed. But this little dog was about to make me lose my mind.
He squirmed again. I resisted the temptation to unzip my jacket and let him discover the joy and excitement of free-falling. He took a breath and sniffed a little.
Here it comes, I thought.
“It’s like you have no soul,” Total said.
“Total, we’ve been over this,” I said impatiently. “We checked out the Itex plant in Saint Jean-de-Sèvre.” Total grimaced at my pronunciation, making me want to smack him. “We’re on a mission to check out the main headquarters, in Germany. There is no Itex plant in Paris. Thus, going to Paris makes no sense.”
“No, it’s only the center of world culture,” he said. “The home of some of the best food on the planet. Fashion, art, architecture-ah, Versailles!” He sounded like he was about to cry.
I rolled my eyes.
“And yet, no Itex plant,” I said pointedly.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing Paris,” said Nudge. “I saw this guidebook back at the library. They have little canal boats you can take tours on, and fancy gardens, and that Loovra museum, and palaces, and all kinds of stuff.” She looked at me hopefully.
Total had taught both girls how to use crocodile tears, and now Angel turned grieving eyes on me. I steeled myself, waiting to feel her infiltrate my brain, but she didn’t (that I could tell).
“Life is so short,” Angel said sadly. “So short and so hard. The idea of seeing the City of Light, just once-”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” I muttered.
“It would almost make everything seem worthwhile,” she finished.
“Yes, because what’s a life of degradation and torture compared with a charming bistro on the Champs-Élysées?” I asked, sarcasm dripping. Total grimaced again.
“Exactly!” Angel said excitedly. “That’s what I’m talking about. It all becomes unimportant when you’re standing, like, at Sacré-Coeur!”
I knew I was beaten. If I didn’t give in, not only would I have to listen to two children, a hulking disaster, and a dog whining at me all the way to Germany, but once we got there, no one would be able to concentrate on the mission. Plus, I was expecting the Voice to pop in at any second with some sage fortune-cookie advice like, See what Paris has to offer. Or, What’s the lesson you could learn from this? Or, Maybe you’ll find a bright, shiny clue to something right there at the Arc de Triomphe!
I looked down. Far below us, the millions of lights of Paris were obvious-it was the biggest city in the country and sparkled like a diamond. An expensive, time-consuming, no doubt pointless diamond.
I rubbed my forehead with one hand. “Oh, all right,” I muttered. “Fine. We’ll spend a couple hours in Paris.”
I tried to block out the whoops of joy. Looking at Ari, I realized he hadn’t weighed in. In general, he kept his thoughts to himself, as if he didn’t deserve to have an opinion. Nudge and Angel still didn’t look at him or interact with him. I also knew that Paris would be one of the last fun things he did in this life.
“Let’s find someplace to sleep,” I said, as we angled downward through the night.
Here’s the weird thing: We hadn’t seen hide nor hair of an Eraser or a whitecoat or a Flyboy chasing us since we’d split from Fang and the others. We still had me, Angel, Total, Ari-all of the “if” factors that could possibly be tracked. And yet the last several days had been one grande vacance, as we say here in gay Paree.
So what was different? Just that Fang, Gazzy, and Iggy weren’t here. It was crazy. I wondered what they were doing, if they were, like, on a beach or partying somewhere or whatever. Completely forgetting about us. Not missing us.
Part of me was dying to find an Internet café and at least read Fang’s latest blog entry. Maybe I could get some idea of where they were and what they were doing. But the bigger, self-righteous part of me refused to acknowledge my burning curiosity.
“OMG!” Nudge squealed, putting a filmy, arty scarf around her neck. “This is fabulous!”
And so suitable for an Eraser to grab and yank, thus breaking your neck, I struggled not to say. Instead I nodded unenthusiastically, hoping she would read between the lines.
“This is what I’m talking about,” Total said happily. He leaned his front paws on the marble table and pulled his chocolate pastry toward him. “I’m sitting here, I’m eating, and Angel didn’t have to control anyone’s mind. This is civilization.”
Dogs are allowed in most restaurants in Paris, in case you haven’t picked up on that. We were sitting at a tiny marble-topped table outside a café. People streamed past us, not turning into Erasers or whatever would come after Erasers.
“It is really neat,” Nudge said, looping her scarf around her neck so it wouldn’t dip into her coffee. “How many of these can I have?” She was on her third pastry.
I shrugged. “However many you can eat without barfing.” Okay, as a mom I’m unconventional, I admit. Especially since I’m only fourteen and didn’t actually give birth to any of these guys.
“I wish-,” Angel began, then stopped. She pulled her café au lait over and took a sip.
I wish everyone was here with us, I heard in my mind, and it wasn’t the Voice. I nodded at Angel. Me too, I thought back.
“What are we going to do after this?” Nudge asked. “How about the Loovra?”
I shook my head. “Too enclosed, too much security, too many people. There isn’t enough Valium in the world to get me in there.”
“The Eiffel Tower is open, and high,” said Angel.
I nodded. “It’s a possibility.” I checked my watch. “You guys have four hours, then we have to bug out of here.”
Nudge snapped me a salute. “Jawohl!”
Total started choking with laughter, and Ari and Angel both grinned.
Everyone knows what the Eiffel Tower looks like. But in person, it’s so much bigger-all this lacy steel and iron swooping up and up into the sky. It was so tempting to just fly to the top, but instead we waited in an endless line and took a crowded elevator to the top. And you know how much I like being packed into small spaces with other people!
But once we were at the top, the view was magnificent. Right below us was the Seine River, with its houseboats and tour boats. From up there we could see everything, all the major landmarks, like the Arc de Triomphe and the Louvre museum. Paris stretched as far as we could see.
I had to admit, Paris was really beautiful. The buildings all seemed so old and fancy and really pretty in a non-American kind of way. I wished the guys could see it. I hope you guys can see it some day too, if it’s still standing after the whitecoats try to destroy the world.
Of course Nudge made us shop. At least street stands weren’t as claustrophobia inducing as enclosed stores. All along the Seine were little stalls selling books and flowers, and I felt as if we were in a movie with subtitles. I waited with saintly patience as Nudge and Angel sorted through T-shirts and hats and books in French that we couldn’t carry, much less read.
Ari tried on a leather jacket-his old one was shredded and bloodstained. The stall vendor looked at Ari warily, then Angel distracted him and he didn’t seem to notice Ari anymore.
“It’s you,” I said, watching him shrug it on. “Is it comfortable?”
He grimaced. “Nothing’s comfortable when you’re built like this.” He gestured to his hulking, overdeveloped muscles, the lumpy wings that didn’t fold in perfectly, neatly, like ours.
I stepped behind him to smooth out the collar, and that’s when I saw it again: the expiration date on the back of his neck. His time was coming, very, very soon.
You know what? I was glad I’d shown him Paris.
You know the other strange thing about Europe? It’s weensy. It was like, oops, I blinked, there goes Belgium! All of Western Europe could fit into America, east of the Mississippi. Flying from England to France took about thirty minutes. Crossing over France took about six hours. It had taken us almost eight hours to cross Texas, back in America.
Anyway. Here’s my one-note take on Germans: They’re scrubbers. Hoo, boy, we’re talking a tidy little country. France? Not so much.
“Okay, no one leave their socks lying around,” I instructed, as we drifted to a landing outside a town called Lendeheim. “That would send them right over the edge.”
Lendeheim seemed to have been designed by the “Germany” team at Epcot. I kept expecting Bambi to pop out from behind a bush. There was so much carved gingerbread on the houses that my stomach growled.
The one main road through town led uphill to an incredible medieval castle. You guessed it: Itex. Still lording it over the peasants, in their way.
“This is too cute,” said Total, hopping down from my arms. “I want to start planting window boxes or something.”
“The hiiillls are aliiive,” Nudge warbled, spreading her arms wide, “with the sound of-”
“Okay, listen up,” I broke in. “The castle is through these trees. Let’s do a quick recon and then decide what to do next.”
I set off into the woods, pushing aside the picturesque German underbrush. Frankly, I’d expected a German forest to be a little tidier than this.
“Wait, don’t tell me,” Total said, trotting after me. “We’re gonna break in, steal some stuff, break some stuff, almost get caught, and then escape in some dangerous, dramatic way.”
I set my jaw, trying to ignore Nudge’s giggle. “Maybe,” I said tightly. “You got a better plan?”
He was silent for a few moments. “Well, no.”
I know you might not believe this, but slogging through a foreign European forest in the dead of night with an ex-Eraser, a talking dog, and two kids who depend on you for their lives-well, not as much fun as you’d think. But maybe that’s just my negativity talking.
Once again, I was forcibly reminded of what slooow and hard work walking is, compared with flying. But I didn’t want to take a chance of being seen, not this close to the castle. For all I knew, they had watchtowers or radar or searchlights. Possibly all three.
But we finally made it. Standing at the edge of the woods, looking across the moat at the thick, high castle wall, I felt like this was the most castley castle I’d ever seen. It was all pointy and chock-full o’ turrets, with narrow slits for cute Robin Hood arrows, and other windows with many tiny panes of glass. Of course, the floodlights and razor wire at the top of the wall detracted a bit from its charm, but if you squinted, they faded a little.
“There’s an iron gate,” whispered Nudge, pointing. “We can see through it.”
“Yep.” Sticking to the shadows, we half crouched, half crawled toward the castle, checking carefully for trip wires or hidden traps. When we were within thirty feet of the gate, the sound of marching feet made us freeze, bellies to the ground.
My raptor vision showed me the next generation of Erasers goose-stepping in the courtyard. I saw just as clearly lines of people marching after them, fierce expressions on their faces. But there was something odd about them-something not entirely human. And then I saw my old clone double, Max II, who had tried to replace me, who Jeb had tried to make me kill. She was back.
Standing next to me, Ari had gone rigid, his eyes locked on the Max clone. I remembered that they had been an anti-real Max team and felt my stomach tighten. My vigilance about Ari cranked up a couple notches.
While I pondered this revolting development, Nudge elbowed me in the ribs.
“Oh, my God!” she whispered. “Do you see that?”
“Yep,” I said, watching Max II grimly. “We meet again.”
“What do you mean? We’ve never seen her before,” said Nudge.
I turned and looked at Nudge. “Hello? You don’t remember that topsy-turvy day when ‘I’ tried to cook and offered to fix your hair?”
Nudge frowned. “Yeah. That was Max Two. That’s not what I’m talking about! Look, four rows behind her!”
I looked. Then I saw what Nudge meant.
There was a Nudge II-marching along with an un-Nudge-like solemnity. Other than that, she looked exactly like her.
“Holy moly,” I breathed, hardly able to believe it.
“Uh-oh,” said Angel quietly, then pointed. I swallowed a groan and dropped my head into my hands for a second. Excellent. Just what the world needed: another Angel. Because God knows, one six-year-old mind-controlling flying child just isn’t enough.
“I don’t believe it,” said Nudge. “There’s another me!”
“And another me,” said Angel.
Was everyone here a clone? Maybe not, but they were all mutants of some kind, I was willing to bet.
“What, I’m not important enough to have a double?” Total sounded completely offended. “‘No, let’s not clone the dog. He’s just a dog, after all.’”
I rubbed his head behind his ears, but he huffed and flopped over on the grass.
“I don’t have a double either,” said Ari. So Jeb hadn’t cloned his son. How sentimental of him.
“Are they going to try to replace us, like they did with you?” Nudge asked.
“Yes,” I said. “But we’ll catch on immediately when the new Nudge is silent and mopey, and the new Angel acts like an actual six-year-old.”
They smiled, and I congratulated myself on my ability to keep their spirits up even in the face of this new atrocity.
“Actually,” I went on, “let’s come up with a code word or phrase to use with one another when we need to make absolutely sure we’re the right ones. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Nudge.
“Ooh, I’ve got one,” said Angel, and we put our heads together as she whispered it.
“Perfect!” said Nudge, breaking into a smile.
I laughed silently and slapped her a very quiet high five.
Ari grinned and nodded.
Even Total’s furry black face seemed to smile.
So what was the secret word?
Yeah, like I’m gonna tell you.
What with all the stomping and the fiercely staring straight ahead, none of the Flyboys or clones or other mutants seemed to hear us when we flew over the wall as silently as we could. We caught up with the troops and started marching right behind them, a last line of followers eager to herald the beginning of the Re-Evolution.
I’m so sure.
Anyway, gutsy little devil-may-care freaks that we are, we trooped right into the building with them, our feet moving in lockstep, arms swinging tightly at our sides. We would see how long it took someone to notice. My guess is that it wouldn’t be long. Call it a hunch.
We filed between tall metal double doors, which swung shut behind us with an ominous clang. Inside, we were surprised by how the Marching Gang o’ Mutants immediately split up. The Flyboys veered off down one dimly lit stone hallway, and the others split up into several streams heading in different directions.
It was like a stone rabbit warren, with many hallways winding away from the main doors. Amber emergency lights barely lit the way.
Moving silently, we followed a group through another set of double doors, the surrealness of it giving me ill-advised giggles that I quickly swallowed.
Still no one seemed to notice us. We were heading deeper and deeper into one of Itex’s most important strongholds without anyone getting in our way.
I looked down at Angel.
“Trap?” I said out of the side of my mouth.
She nodded. “Trap.”
“Everyone on guard,” I breathed, and then suddenly we were in an airplane hangar-sized room.
The ceiling was at least thirty feet high, and the only windows were narrow horizontal slits maybe a foot or two below the ceiling. The stone walls were hung with tremendous TV screens, several on each wall. The rest of the room was filled with gray metal bunks, each covered with a kicky olive drab army blanket suitable for bouncing quarters off.
You had to give it to them: These guys sure knew how to party!
The mutants filed off into the rows of metal bunks, and we found ourselves alone at the edge of the room.
Instinctively we formed a circle, our backs to one another, and cased the joint.
“This is so nice,” said Total. “I want my room at home to look just like this. If we ever get a home.”
“Shh,” I said mildly. “Everyone keep an eye out, mark your emergency exits, and let’s see what’s going on.”
All around us, everyone had moved with purpose to what I assumed were assigned chores: The products of the finest scientific minds in the world were busily sweeping, dusting metal beds, polishing their boots.
Nudge and I looked at each other at the same time, and Angel read our minds. In the next moment we had each found boots in our sizes beneath various beds. Ari copied us, managing to find some extra-large ones. In seconds we had laced them onto our feet and hidden our filthy, shredded sneakers.
“Oh, yeah,” said Total. “Now we blend.”
I made a face at him and then turned my attention to the TV screens. There were three screens on each wall, and if they’d been showing, say, a soccer game, I would have been in pig heaven.
However, they were broadcasting the earnest face of a fair-haired woman who was speaking in consecutive languages. We tapped our feet through German, French, Spanish, Italian, and Japanese, with our room’s occupants scarily shouting agreement and praise every so often.
Nudge frowned. “Who does she remind me of? I feel like I’ve seen her before.”
I thought, then shrugged. “No idea.”
Finally the whitecoat got to English. “The time of the Re-Evolution is here!” she said forcefully. Various voices in the room cheered.
“We have begun implementing the By-Half Plan! Even as you watch this, the weak, the unnecessary, the ones who drain our resources, are being eliminated!”
More cheers, while we five looked at one another in horror and then quickly remembered to cheer along with the others.
The woman looked out from the screen with the sincere zeal of a serious nut job. “We are creating a new world. A world where there is no hunger, no sickness, no weakness.”
“Because they killed everyone,” I muttered.
“The causes of war will be eliminated,” she went on earnestly. “There will be plenty of food for everyone. There will be plenty of room for everyone. People will cease to fight over property, food, wealth, energy resources.”
Everyone in the room cheered.
“Yep, no reason to fight,” I whispered. “Unless, of course, you’re persnickety about religion. I bet everyone will be so healthy and happy that it won’t even matter anymore. It’s not like people take it that seriously.” I rolled my eyes and shook my head.
Every so often someone would walk past us, not giving us a second glance. We cheered with the others and tried to look busy by smoothing beds, lining up shoes, picking lint off blankets.
“Remember,” said the whitecoat, “we can’t achieve Re-Evolution without you, our chosen ones. The new order must be pure. All races are equal. All genders are equal. But illness, weakness, and other flaws must be eliminated.”
“All genders?” whispered Nudge. “Aren’t there just the two? Or did I miss something?”
I shrugged. “No idea. Maybe they’ve created others.”
The thought was fairly repulsive, and we made “eew” faces at each other.
“So if you know of anyone who should experience the glory of martyrdom so that others may live in paradise, please inform your supervisor immediately,” said the woman. “It will reflect well on you, and you will be praised.”
I looked at the others, appalled. “Oh, my God,” I said softly. “They want people to turn in anyone who isn’t perfect. Which is, like, everyone! No one is perfect!”
I couldn’t have said it better myself, Max, said the Voice.
So what now? I thought.
You’re where you need to be, doing what you need to do, said the Voice. It was so rare that I got approval from the Voice that I was taken aback. But are you sure you can do this alone?
I’ve got Nudge and Angel and Total and Ari, I thought.
You’re missing half your family, said the Voice. Who are also half your army.
Not my fault, I thought testily. Not my decision.
Does that mean it isn’t your problem and you don’t have to fix it?
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. On the TV screen, the whitecoat had switched back to German.
And your point is…? I thought.
You need the rest of the flock. You need more fighters on your side. Get them back.
I groaned to myself. Oh, just heck.
“We would be amazing spies,” Nudge whispered into my ear, “don’t you think so?”
The five of us were crawling silently through a ventilation duct, in search of a computer. So far we had passed another barracks, a cafeteria, bathrooms-I guess even perfect people have to “go” sometimes-and a couple of offices with workers in them.
We needed an empty room with a computer. And then, like, a bunch of hot food! And comfy beds! After what felt like miles of crawling on hard metal, we looked down into a room that was dimly lit by a computer screen saver.
As quietly as possible, we unscrewed the grate, then dropped one at a time down into the room, waiting for the blare of motion detectors. But it remained quiet.
“Okay, make this fast,” I told Nudge. “There might be silent alarms, hidden infrared cameras, whatever. We probably have about a minute.”
Nudge nodded and sat down in front of the computer. She put her hands on the keyboard and closed her eyes. Seconds ticked by, with me getting more and more nervous and twitchy.
Suddenly she opened her eyes, looked at the computer keyboard, and started to type.
In seconds she had cleared the computer screen and pulled up an e-mail program.
“I have no idea how she does that,” I whispered, and Total nodded.
“Okay,” said Nudge. “I’m connected.”
“Great job,” I said, my heart hammering, and not only because I was expecting to be caught any second. “Tell Fang to come to Lendeheim right away, with everybody. Tell him things are really, really bad.”
Nudge typed quickly.
“Tell him that the really evil stuff has started and that we have days, maybe hours, to throw a wrench in it.”
“Wrench starts with w,” said Total, reading over her shoulder.
“It doesn’t matter,” I hissed. “Just tell Fang to get his butt here, now!”
Nudge nodded and typed, then hit the Send button. And our message was off, hopefully to make its way to Fang’s e-mail account.
True, he got a katrillion messages a day, but I hoped his eye would be caught by the all-cap THIS IS FROM MAX. READ IT NOW!!!! in the subject line.
“Well,” I said, “that’s all we can do. We just have to hope it gets through.”
The computer screen blinked, and then the whitecoat we’d seen on TV earlier popped up, looking straight at us.
“Very good, Max,” she said, sending chills down my spine. “You got further than I thought you would. I should have given you more credit.”
Behind my back I made motions with my hands that meant, Up and out of here, now!
“No, there’s no point in that,” said the woman. “Look up.”
So of course I looked up. The ceiling was absolutely covered with hovering, silent Flyboys, clinging like hairy bugs, their red eyes glowing.
“Oh, crap,” I said.
“How eloquent,” said the woman. And then, “Attack them!”
It wasn’t pretty. We did manage to take out six or so Flyboys, but after all the metal springs and fur had settled, we were captured, our hands cuffed, our legs shackled.
My nose was bleeding, and a cut on the inside of my mouth stung. Ari had fared badly, and his recently healed face showed newly split skin and two black eyes. Both Angel and Nudge had nasty bruises, but nothing seemed to be broken. Total of course had done his best, biting the Flyboys, but he hadn’t done much damage.
The Flyboys carried/dragged us through a series of tunnels, and I tried to memorize the route. We went up and down stairs, through a round tower, and finally came to a pivoting stone slab that became a secret door. Through this door was an office, like a business office. It looked totally out of place, with fluorescent lighting and a modern wooden desk, instead of, say, a medieval torture device.
The Flyboys dropped us roughly on the stone floor, which was padded here and there by Oriental carpets. None of us made a sound as our knees slammed against the stone, our shackled hands unable to break our fall. In a second we all scrambled up, standing with our backs to one another, searching for exits, counting guards, seeking out anything we could use for weapons. We’re just funny that way.
My eye was caught by something on the big desk. A little plaque that said DIRECTOR.
Ooh, the Director! At last! The head honcho, big cheese, big kahuna! The one pulling all of our strings! The one in charge of everything and everyone! The completely insane psychopath who was trying to eliminate most of the world’s population! Finally we would meet. And I would take him apart using only my teeth if necessary.
I elbowed the others and nodded my head at the desk.
“You know what to do,” I breathed to Angel. Time for a little mind puppet.
The heavy stone wall pivoted again, and the fair-haired woman from the TV came in, followed by several other whitecoats. The whitecoats had the inevitable stethoscopes, blood pressure cuffs, etc. This was going to be amusing. A “totally horrible” kind of amusing.
“Hello, Max,” said the woman. She was about my height, with a slender build. Glancing at the others, she said, “Angel, Nudge, Ari. And the dog.”
I knew that killed Total, but he didn’t say anything.
“I’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time,” said the woman. “It’s very important that we speak, face-to-face. Don’t you think so?”
“Well, what’s important is that you believe that,” I said, and her eyes flickered.
“My name is Marian Janssen,” she said calmly. “I’m the Director of Itex, and its research and development companies.”
I kept my face very still. This was the Director? The Director was a woman? Oddly, it was disappointing that the person behind all of this destruction was a woman. This kind of schizo-steamroller behavior seemed more natural for a man, at least to me.
“Not only that,” she continued, keeping her eyes on my face, “but I am your mother, Max.”
