Max Part 3

DR. DWYER AND THE CSM had arranged for a special safe house for us - actually five, four were decoys - and kept the real location a secret until we were in a car headed there.

"Seeing battles is hard, if you're not used to it," Fang said, watching Brigid's white face. She nodded tensely, struggling to maintain her cool. She hadn't been hurt, but her clothes were spattered with blood - I'd been standing right next to her when I had happily discovered the New Threat's orangey weakness.

"It's not a picnic even if you are are used to it," I said. used to it," I said.

"What were those things?" Iggy asked, rubbing his bruised and sc.r.a.ped knuckles.

"Not sure," I said. I'd been trying to figure that out myself. They hadn't been Erasers, those wolf-human hybrids that had tried to kill us about once every hour for the last four years. They hadn't been Flyboys, which were the flying, cyborg version of Erasers. They hadn't been straight robots. They were roboty, but with a bit of flesh grown over their frames, and apparently didn't fly. They hadn't spoken, but that didn't mean they couldn't.

"It's a mystery," I said, deciding to worry about it later. Right now I was hungry and a little shaky from the drop in adrenaline.

I pushed my hair out of my eyes, and just then noticed that Dr. Brilliant's hair was actually cut in a style, like on purpose purpose. I've had my hair cut by an actual hairdresser exactly once in my life, and that was many, many battles ago.

I felt like a truck driver next to Brigid Dwyer. A truck driver with bad hair, a black eye, dried blood around my nose, and ripped and b.l.o.o.d.y clothes. Not an unusual look for me, but all of a sudden, I felt - I don't know. I don't know what I felt.

"Here we are," said Brigid as we pulled into the driveway of a smallish stucco house. The houses were packed tightly together here, and the streets were full of dogs and cars, the yards strung with lines of clean laundry.

I automatically scanned the area for possible hiding places, points of vulnerability, whether the windows were breakable, whether the trees would get in our way. Fang got out first, raked the area with his stare, and determined that it was safe.

The rest of us piled out quickly and hurried to the back of the house. I felt tired and irritable and, worse, kept sensing Brigid looking at Fang. I just wanted to eat about three banana splits and then collapse.

Warm yellow light spilled out a window, forming a slanted rectangle on the gra.s.s. Just as we reached the back door, it swung open. I stopped so suddenly that Angel b.u.mped into me. I got on the b.a.l.l.s of my feet, ready to leap into action if someone dangerous was behind that door.

At first all I saw was a silhouette. At the same moment, a delicious, familiar scent wafted out into the warm night air.

Chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven.

The silhouette was my mom, Dr. Valencia Martinez, and she was smiling at me.

And the world seemed loads better.

10.

"MAN, I FEEL GREAT," Gazzy said an hour later. He tipped back in his chair and patted his stomach, now full of enchiladas, tacos, chips and salsa, and cookies. "Looove Mexico," he crooned. "Looove Mexican food."

"It's so good to see you again," my mom said, kissing my cheek. Again.

I beamed at her. "You too. And I haven't seen Ella in ages."

"I've got so much to tell you," my half sister said to me. She quickly pushed a couple tortilla chips into her mouth, her eyes wide. "We had a dance at my school!"

My mom smiled at Ella, looking tired and proud. "Yes, she even gave up two hours with me to attend. Ella and I have been stuffing envelopes and making phone calls for the CSM in every spare minute."

For a second I was jealous - Ella had so much more of my mom, all the time, her whole life. Then I felt guilty. Ella deserved to have our mom, and it wasn't her fault that I couldn't. The fact was, my mom had had Ella in the normal way. I had been an egg donated to science and was fertilized in a test tube. Neither of us knew the other existed until this past year. And now, no matter how much we cared about each other, it was still too dangerous for me to live in one place for any length of time. Being with my mom would also mean putting her and Ella at risk. And I wouldn't do it.

Amazingly, I'm not that selfish. Yet.

"You've been doing an incredible job for the CSM too, honey," my mom said to me. "But I agree that the air shows must be canceled. There's just no way to guarantee your safety."

Jeb Batchelder pulled out a chair and sat down, propping his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together. "Has everyone had enough to eat?" he asked.

I slowly let out a breath, not looking at him. I would never get used to seeing him again, after thinking he was dead for years. I would never accept that he was a good guy, after everything he'd done to me and the flock over the last - what was it now? Eight months? Time was so - stretchy, in my life.

Somehow my mom trusted him. And I trusted my mom. But that was as far as it went, despite the fact that as far as I knew, he was my biological father, the other half of the test-tube c.o.c.ktail that had produced me. But I never, ever thought of him as my father. Ever.

"The CSM isn't our only concern right now," Jeb said. His hair was starting to go gray. I'd love to think that I caused some of it. "We need to discuss your next steps."

Instantly I felt my face set like stone. I didn't look at Fang but knew that he'd have the same expression. None of us had ever reacted well to the amusing notion of having grown-ups decide things for us - like our future, or what we did, and so on.

"Oh?" I said in a voice that would have made most people pause.

Jeb was used to it, having heard it from me since I was about three years old.

"Yes," he said. "A new school was recently created - the Day and Night School. It's for gifted children, and it's designed to let kids learn at their natural pace, in ways that suit them best. You'd all do really well there. It's one of the only schools on earth where you'd fit in."

"Yeah, we're all about fitting in," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Where is it?" Nudge asked. I heard the eagerness in her voice, and groaned to myself.

"In a beautiful and secluded part of Utah," Jeb said. "It's got mountains, a lake to swim in, and horses to ride."

"Ooh," said Nudge, her brown eyes wide. "I love horses! And school -" A wistful expression came over her face. "Tons of books, and other kids to talk to..."

"Nudge, it's out of the question," I said. I hated to rain on her parade, but she knew this was crazy. There was no way we could go to some school somewhere. Had she forgotten what had happened the other times we'd tried to go to school? It was like, regular usual nightmare, plus homework.

Nudge turned pleading eyes to me. "Really? It would be nice to be in one place for a while, and learn things."

"I like school," said Ella. "Even though some kids are b.u.t.theads."

"We usually have bigger problems than kids being b.u.t.theads," I said, trying to squelch my growing irritation. "Nudge, you know we have to keep on the move. Remember the suicide-sniper guy? There's no way we'd be safe."

"We can guarantee your safety," Jeb offered. "This is the real deal, kids."

"Oh, the real deal," I said, sarcasm dripping. "So it's better than all the fake deals, huh? Guarantee our safety? Please. How can you even say that with a straight face?"

"I've checked into it," my mom said. "I have to admit, it seems like a good program. And the woman who runs it is one of my friends from college."

Well, Buddha himself could come to me in a dream and tell me it was the right thing to do, and I still would not get on board. Because when it comes right down to it, in the end, when push comes to shove, when my back's against the wall, when I can't think of another freaking cliche to throw your way, the only person I really, really, really trust, no matter what, is me.

This policy has paid off for me any number of times.

The next person I trust after me is Fang.

There really isn't a third person, not because I don't love the flock or my mom or whoever, but because Fang is the only person I know almost as well as I know myself, and he's the only person I know who is close to being as tough as I am. He will not break under torture; he will not sell me out.

So, on various levels of trust after Fang, I'd choose the rest of the flock, my mom, and Ella. Jeb didn't make the list.

"School is out," I said firmly. "Next question."

11.

DO YOU WANT TO KNOW what's the closest thing to feeling the most powerful you can feel? Flying alone at night. Risky. Nothing but you and the wind. Soaring way above everything, slicing through the air like a sword. Up and up until you feel like you could grab a star and hold it to your chest like a burning, spiky thing...

Oh, the poetry of a bird kid. Remind me to collect it all into one emotional, mushy volume someday, under some fake, poetic-sounding name, like Gabrielle Charbonnet de la Something-Schmancy. (I'm not kidding. I saw that name on a backpack in France. Poor kid.) I wheeled through the sky, racing as fast as I could, my wings moving like pistons, up and down, strong and sleek. When I felt an updraft of warmer air, I coasted, breathing in the night's thin coolness, dipping a wing to turn in huge, smooth circles as big as football fields.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Everyone was back at the house, asleep, I hoped. I'd sneak in before anyone woke up and saw I was gone and freaked out and thought I'd been kidnapped or something. But right now I needed some time. Some s.p.a.ce. Some breathing room.

Once again, the fate of the flock was in my hands, and once again, I seemed to be the only one seeing or thinking clearly enough to know that there really wasn't even a choice here. School was never never actually a real choice. actually a real choice.

Why didn't the rest of the flock ever see that?

We're the flock. We're the last, most successful, still-living recombinant life-form that the Dr. Frankenstein wannabes at the School had created. That pretty much cemented us to one road in life, one fate: to run - forever.

Why did the rest of the flock keep pretending that we had choices? It was a waste of time. Worse, it was always up to me to be the bad guy, the one who shot down everyone's hopes and dreams. You think I liked being the heavy? I didn't.

Breathe in, breathe out.

And Fang. He usually supported me. Which I appreciated. But lately he'd been lobbying for us to find a deserted island somewhere and just kick back, eat coconuts, and chill, without anyone knowing where we were.

Sometimes that sounded really good.

But how long could that last? Sooner or later, Nudge was going to want new shoes, or Gazzy would run out of comic books, or Angel would decide she wanted to rule the world, and then where would we be?

Right. We'd be back to me telling everyone no.

And Fang. I didn't know what he was doing, kissing me and then flirting with Dr. Stupendous and then making hot, dark eyes at me.

It was enough to make a girl nuts or more more nuts - nuts - Pssshh!

It took several seconds for the pain neurons to fire all the way from my right wing to my befuddled brain. And since I was conditioned to try not to scream out in surprise or pain - it's a survival thing - I was still staring stupidly at the weirdly big hole even as I started to spiral awkwardly down to earth, way way too fast. too fast.

I'd been shot. I was plummeting to the ground. And I couldn't stop.

12.

FOR THOSE OF YOU studying animal physiology, I'll confirm that there's a very good reason flying creatures always have two wings. One wing doesn't cut it.

By the time I'd processed what had happened, I was about ten seconds from a flat, crunchy death. I sent all available power into my unharmed wing and desperately tried to get some lift, managing to look like a dying loon, rising awkwardly a few feet, then sinking, all the while spiraling down like one of those copter toys.

This was it. After everything I'd ever been through, I was going to die suddenly, with no warning, and alone. I'm a tough kid, but I'll admit, I closed my eyes when I was about thirty feet from the asphalt of some parking lot.

I felt sorry for whoever would find me. I hoped the flock would know I was dead and not just missing, so they wouldn't have to look for me. I thought about everything I had left unsaid to virtually everyone in my life, and wondered whether that had been a good - Boing!

"Aiiiieee!!!!"

Interestingly, though I'm silent as the grave when shot or snuck up on, I discovered that I squeal like a little girl when I'm facing imminent death and then find myself bouncing hard on a trampoline.

The impact jolted my hurt wing, making me wince and suck in a breath, and then I was bouncing again, not so high, and again. I pulled my injured wing in tight, feeling warm, sticky blood clotting my feathers.

A couple more bounces and I managed to stand up, looking around me wildly. There were about a hundred of the New Threat guys, standing around the trampoline, watching me bounce, as if I were a mouse and they were all cats, honing in on me with bright eyes.

"Mr. Chu wants to see you," one of them intoned in a telephone operator's static voice.

They tipped me off the trampoline and immediately surrounded me, eight deep, not taking any chances. I couldn't fly. There were too many of them for me to realistically break free. This is probably how most humans feel all the time.

It sucks.

13.

I WAS PUSHED into the back of a truck, fenced in by so many armed guards that I couldn't see anything.

My family had no idea where I was.

My right wing had a big hole in it, and one of its bones was probably broken.

I was completely outnumbered, going who knew where, to meet my mysterious new enemy, "Mr. Chu."

I decided to take a nap.

"Excuse me, pardon me," I murmured, sinking to my knees. Many of the guards immediately hunched down next to me, waiting for the daring escape I'd make by, what, slithering out between their legs?