Fang

67

TOTAL WAS GLAD TO SEE us all again. His own horrible skin lesions were somewhat disguised by his black fur, but he was definitely suffering the same effects.

“I feel like crap!” he said, once we were settled at the new safe house. “At first I thought I’d gotten some bad shrimp dip, but this is way beyond that.”

“How’s Akila?” I asked. “She seem okay?”

“Yes, thank God.” His small black eyes glittered. “Which reminds me. I’ve got some big news -”

“Max? Come look at this sunset,” said Dylan. I’d been avoiding him ever since we got here, even though I’d felt his eyes on me whenever we were in the same room. Nudge had told me he was a great singer and could totally be a star, on top of being a great fighter who got along swimmingly with the rest of the flock.

Without meaning to, I glanced across the room at Fang, who’d been talking to Gazzy and Iggy. His gaze was lasered in on me.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s great,” I said to Dylan lamely. The picture window showed the low mountains off in the distance, and we could see a bit of the ocean if we leaned way to the left on the balcony.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” said Dylan, a wistful smile on his slightly less troll-like face. “But I’d understand if you want to keep your distance from” – he pointed at himself – “this mess.”

“Can’t you, like, put some magic spit on it and make it all better?” I asked, only half joking.

“Tried it already.” He chuckled. “I guess even the doc’s magic doesn’t work on bad teenage complexions. I’m doomed.”

The irony of Dylan complaining about his usually perfect skin was not lost on me. I laughed, then smothered it, not willing to be sucked into his charm.

The rest of the flock was starting to seem better too, as Jeb had predicted. They had more energy, and their skin looked less awful. If Jeb was right, their systems were absorbing the reactant, binding it to their genes, and soon it would be normal, a part of them. Greeaaaat. I kept waiting for antlers to pop out of their heads or for them to start understanding Akila when she barked. I mean, what the heck was going to happen to them?

The next day the skin lesions were virtually gone. But we hardly even noticed because, lo and behold, something else was gone too.

Angel.

Do you want to join me in the next word? Okay, everyone all together now:

Again.

It wasn’t like the other times, when we had to mobilize our forces and piece together clues and leap out into the air on a rescue mission.

This time, we only had to read the note.

Dear Flock and Max and Dr. Martinez and Jeb and Dylan,

You guys are wrong about Dr. Hans. He wants to help us, and for us to be the best we can be. You don’t trust him because you don’t trust anybody. But I want to be more powerful. I want to know what he’s working on. I’ve gone to work with him. Please don’t follow me. Things will only get messy if you do.

Love,

Angel

P.S. I just want to remind you that Fang’s time is about up. Him being there puts the rest of the flock in danger. I’m sorry, Fang.

68

“CAN’T WE PUT a boot on her, like a little car?” Gazzy asked, rubbing his hair in frustration so that it stood straight up.

“Yeah, maybe we should start locking her in at night,” I said wryly.

“Could she have been… kidnapped?” my mom asked.

We all quickly looked around. There was no sign of disturbance; everything was still locked. And the note was in Angel’s handwriting.

“No, I think she decided to go,” I said. “As much as I wish that weren’t true.”

“What does she mean about Fang’s time being up?” Jeb asked.

“She said that in Africa,” said Nudge. “She said Fang was gonna die.”

“Die?” My mom’s eyes widened.

“She was just trying to get attention,” said Fang. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

I suddenly had a thought, one of those awful thoughts that you hate right away and yet you can’t ever unthink it. I felt my heart start to pound as I stood up.

“Fang? Let me see the back of your neck.”

Those of us who graduated from (or, I should say, escaped from) the School have expiration dates, like milk. We first noticed them on some Erasers, after they had… expired. Dates, like little tattoos, showed up on the backs of their necks. They seem to become visible about a week, maybe less, before the built-in expiration gene kicks in. Do we have long, full lives ahead of us, or are we living on borrowed time? No clue. It makes retirement planning, like, impossible.

Fang stood up. In the past year he’d gotten taller than I was, so I had to stand on tiptoe a bit to see his neck. I didn’t want to look – didn’t want to know. I couldn’t even let myself think of what it would mean if I saw a date there.

But I’m not a coward. So I brushed his black silky hair off the smooth skin of his neck – the same neck I had kissed not long ago. I could smell his clean Fang smell, the one he inexplicably had even when he was noticeably filthy and covered in gore.

And I looked.

And saw… just smooth, plain, tan Fang skin. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

“No date,” I quickly told the others, and they visibly relaxed.

“Do I have a date?” Dylan’s quiet voice almost made me jump – I’d forgotten that he was there.

“I don’t know,” I said. “You were made by different people, I think.”

uncertainty played across his once-again-gorgeous face. I took pity on him. “I could… look. I guess.”

He came to stand close to me, and turned his back. His streaky blond hair wasn’t as long as Fang’s, but I still had to push it out of the way. And tug down a tiny bit on the neck of his maroon T-shirt. I hadn’t been this close to Dylan before, and I realized that he smelled good in a completely different way. Clean. Spicy.

Then I realized what I was thinking, and my cheeks burned. I took a fast look at his neck and snatched my hands away. “No date. Not that that means anything.”

“At least you don’t have one,” said my mom. “We know what having one means; we don’t know what not having one means.”

Still, Angel’s note had reignited the fears I’d tried to bury. What if all of the attacks in recent days had been meant for Fang? The Eraser attack, the Cirque shooter, the Furioso incident – what if all of these had been designed to get Fang? I remembered how Dylan had chopped the woman’s gun out of her hand at the restaurant.

He just might have saved Fang’s life.

69

“WHERE DOES DR. GOD hang out?” I asked. “Where exactly has Angel gone? How did she know where to find him?”

Nudge headed to our computer. “On it.”

“I’ll go with you,” Fang told me, already starting to load his pockets with knives, throwing stars, Snickers bars.

“No,” I said, trying to sound calm. “I’ll go by myself.”

He straightened up, and let me tell you, it was all I could do not to crumble and beg him to come with me. Any fight was possible with Fang as my backup. Any trip was more fun. But what if this was all designed to get him? I just didn’t know. I couldn’t take that chance. The thought of anything happening to Fang… it was much worse than thinking of anything happening to me.

Fang, typically, didn’t start pelting me with questions. Instead he looked at me, cocked his head slightly, and thought things through.

“You think you’ll have more chance of success without me?” he asked mildly.

“No,” I answered honestly. “Of course not. But I’m willing to risk me. I’m not willing to risk you.”

He opened his mouth to start arguing, but I held up my hand. “Fang, we don’t know what this whole ‘Fang’s time is up’ thing is about. But if it turns out that Angel’s doing this as part of that, then I don’t want to make it easy for them. You know?”

I turned to Jeb. After the shooting incident, I felt I had to trust him more. “Are you going to be staying here for a while?” I asked him.

He nodded.

“You can’t go by yourself, Max,” said Dylan.

I blinked. I mean, I don’t take direction from people I love, so direction from people I’ve practically just met? Not likely.

“Um, I found an address in Malibu, weirdly enough,” said Nudge.

“ Malibu?” I frowned. “That’s practically next door.”

“Max, what if something happens to you?” Dylan asked.

I ignored him and turned back to Jeb. “If Fang is in any way harmed while I’m gone – if he gets a hangnail - you won’t see another morning. Are we clear on that?”

Fang crossed his arms over his chest. “This is ridiculous. I’ve never needed a babysitter.”

“Not a babysitter – just backup,” I told him. “Iggy, Nudge, and Gazzy are also on duty here. But I don’t think I’ll be gone long.”

I moved to leave, and Dylan actually grabbed my shoulders. I was so surprised that I forgot to karate-chop his elbows and break his arms.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said urgently.

“What you want does not matter here,” I said slowly and carefully. I hoped Dylan was sensitive enough to read between the lines, to the subtext of: Let go of me or I’ll kill you.

He let go of me. Fang was looking at him with narrowed eyes. I didn’t have time for this.

“Okay, later,” I said, and strode off to save the day, once again. I hoped.

70

DR. HANS GUNTHER-HAGEN left his computer console and headed out to the terrace overlooking the ocean.

“Max is on the way,” he said. “I thought it would take longer for her to find this house.”

“Nah,” said Angel, dunking a strawberry into her nonalcoholic strawberry daiquiri. “They’re totally on top of the research, especially with that government computer.”

“Government computer?”

“Yeah. From the CIA or the NSA or something,” Angel said. She lay back on her patio lounger and adjusted her sunglasses. Her pure white wings were spread out to the sides, about nine feet across. The sunlight warmed the feathers, soaking in to heat the porous, light bones. It felt fantastic.

“She should be here quite soon,” said Dr. Hans. He shaded his eyes and searched the sky, as if even now he’d be able to see her tiny silhouette against the blue.

“Yeah,” said Angel, setting down her drink and closing her eyes. “I told you.”

She listened to the doctor walk away, hearing every nuance of his steps. She smiled to herself but made sure to keep it off her face. This was why Max liked being the leader, she thought. It was amazing to figure out a plan and then have it work, just watch it all start to fall into place. It was like playing chess, but with real people. And the endgame was about to start.

71

MALIBU WAS BUILT on cliffs next to the Pacific Ocean. There was a narrow strip of dark tan sand, then a thin row of houses, then the Pacific Coast Highway, then cliffs dotted with more houses. I have one word, people: earthquake. I mean, hello, San Andreas Fault? Those houses would be toast crumbs if the big one hit.

Dr. Gunther-Hagen’s house was overlooking the beach – I recognized it from the satellite photos Nudge had found. I held my breath and dropped down onto his terrace, hoping everyone around had their eyes glued to the hypnotic waves and the even more hypnotic all-girl beach volleyball competition taking place down on the sand.

The first thing I saw – well, after a quick sweep to check out security teams, cameras, razor wire, etc. – was Angel, lounging on a… lounger.

“Hi, Max,” she said, pushing her shades up onto her curls.

“I hope you’re wearing sunscreen,” I said. “You’re gonna have hella wrinkles by the time you’re ten.”

“Want some daiquiri?” she offered, pointing at a blender. “Is it traitor flavored?” I asked.

Angel sighed and sat up as the sliding glass doors opened. Dr. Hans Gunther-Hagen came out, dressed in a crisp white linen suit. He smiled and held out his hands to me.

“Maximum!” he said. “I’m so glad you’ve come to join us.”

“Whoa, let’s get one thing straight, Hansie,” I said, keeping a healthy distance from him. “I came here for answers. I’m not joining nobody.”

“That’s a double negative, Max,” Angel noted. If I was the one who had taught her grammar, I now regretted it.

“Max, please, sit down,” said Dr. G-H. He gestured to a patio chair. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at him.

“What are you using Angel for?” I asked. “And what’s Fang got to do with it?”

“Max,” said Angel, “there isn’t much time left for the world as we know it. If we want to survive, we have to join Dr. Hans and work with him.”

“I’m going to take my chances surviving without him,” I told her. “Didn’t you read your Evil-Scientist Manual? I’m pretty sure this whole setup was mentioned on page seventy-eight.”

“You can’t joke about this, Max,” Angel said earnestly, and I refrained from pointing out that I just had. “You have your Voice, and I have mine. We have to listen to them.”

“I don’t know about your so-called Voice, Angel, but if it’s anything like mine, I can tell you this,” I said. “We can learn from them, if they don’t seem nuts, but we’re still supposed to be making our own decisions. Trust me on this.”

“Max, things are going to get bad very soon,” said Dr. Hans. “We’ll have to function in a world that we can barely imagine – a frightening and primitive one. But there’s still time to save yourself. You and the rest of the flock. It’s not too late.”

“Yeah, and all I have to do is divorce myself from any ethical standards whatsoever and jump onto the untrustworthy Control Freak bandwagon,” I said. “No, thanks.”

“All you have to do is let go of Fang,” said Dr. G-H. “Do that, and everyone else survives.”

I stared at him. “No can do, Hans. Nonnegotiable.”

“Are you saying you’d let Fang and the others die just because you’re being stubborn? Just because you won’t accept Dylan instead? Is he not a worthy suitor for our Maximum Ride? Tell me, Max: what’s wrong with him?”

Well. He had me there. “He’s too… clean?” I offered weakly.

Dr. Gunnie-Hunnie looked like a disappointed parent. “We worked very hard to make him just right for you, Max. You haven’t even let him get close enough to find out just how very… wonderful he could be for you.”

What was that supposed to mean?

I was quiet. Quiet some more. And all confused-like. “Well, it’s been swell. Gotta go.”

“Max, please,” said Angel. “Save yourself. Save the others. Please.”

“You have two seconds to get up and come with me,” I said to her. “But I’m leaving. If the world is about to come to an end, I want to spend my last days with my family.”

“I’m staying here,” Angel said sadly.

This was it? I was really losing her? Forever?

It was a strangely mucked-up feeling. It seemed like yesterday that I was cuddling her when she was upset during thunderstorms. It was also just days ago when she was holding a gun on me. I didn’t know who she was anymore. But I hoped that my old Angel was still inside there somewhere, and that she would break free of whatever forces had taken her over.

I swallowed and nodded.

“Max, I could keep you here by force,” said Dr. God, steel in his voice. He nodded, and suddenly four armed guards stepped out of nowhere and pointed guns at me. Angel bit her lip. Quelle surprise.

I made a face at him. “Yeah, but what’s the fun of that? Later. Enjoy the apocalypse.” Then I ran across the terrace, jumped over the edge, and threw myself off the cliff. No bullets zinged past me. My flock was waiting.

72

“ARE YOU REALLY IN DANGER?” Dylan’s voice broke into Fang’s thoughts.

Fang looked at the newest bird kid. Dylan was an inch or two taller than he was, and somewhat heavier built, though he still had the long, lean look of a human-avian hybrid – you couldn’t make bricks fly. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“How can you stay here?” Dylan asked.

Fang stood and picked up his drink before he answered. “What do you mean?”

“If you’re in danger, then someone’s coming after you, right?” said Dylan. “And if you’re standing right next to, say, Gazzy, then Gazzy’s in danger too, right?”

“What are you getting at?”

“You’re putting everyone else in danger,” Dylan said gravely. “You’re putting Max in danger. Doesn’t it upset you?”

“I’m not going to discuss my feelings with you,” Fang said. “I’ve got news for you, pal. Max has been in danger pretty much every day of her life, with a few notable exceptions. She knows how to deal with danger. We all do.”

“Max isn’t indestructible,” Dylan persisted. “None of us are. If we can avoid danger, we should. We don’t need to sit and wait for it to come.”

Fang stared at him in a silence that felt less comfortable, less natural than usual.

“If I were you,” said Dylan, “I’d be doing everything I could to keep Max safe.” Some emotion crossed his face; Fang wasn’t sure what it was. “But it’s bigger than that,” Dylan continued. “Max is the key to this whole flock surviving. According to Jeb, Max is the key to the whole world surviving. Sure, Angel was the leader for a couple days, and she’s a strong kid. But she’s no Max. The rest of the flock needs Max – more than you need her.”

“I know that!” Fang was irritated now.

“Any one of us is dispensable,” Dylan said. “If I disappear, I’m not even a blip on the screen. I know that. If you disappear, Max would be bummed, the flock would have lost a great fighter, but the flock would still be here. But without Max, how long do you think the flock would hold together? Even with you leading it? Would Dr. Martinez still be looking out for you? Would the CSM still be throwing houses your way? Would you have a single freaking clue about what to do?”

Dylan’s voice had been steadily rising, and now he was focused on Fang, each word pelting him like a stone. The thing was, Fang thought, Dylan actually seemed sincere. He wasn’t putting himself first.

On the other hand, if Fang listened to him and left the flock for its own good, and for Max’s own good, it would be leaving the path wide open for Dylan to move in.

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” said Dylan, calming down. “It’s just – I can’t stand the thought of something happening to Max. I can’t stand it.” His clear turquoise eyes met Fang’s black ones. “I’m designed to feel that way.”

Fang nodded. This guy had no artifice, no subterfuge. He didn’t know enough to mask his thoughts or have secret plans or hidden motives. He was a sap, and he probably wouldn’t last long.

“I’m gonna get something to eat,” Fang said, and went inside, leaving Dylan by himself on the balcony. Fang’s mind was blazing, but no one would be able to tell it.

73

DYLAN WAS CALMLY LEANING on the balcony rail of the safe house. His eyes were locked on me as soon as I came into view, as if he’d known exactly when I was returning.

“Max!” he shouted. “Glad to see you’re okay.” He pointed to a round table on the balcony. There, beckoning me, was a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk. “Want some? Figured you’d be hungry after the flight.”

How could he have known how much I loved chocolate chip cookies? I glowered at him. “Thanks but no thanks, Mr. Hospitality,” I said, and walked right by the cookies. An incredible smell wafted from them – they were fresh from the oven.

In the living room, everything seemed normal – Gazzy and Iggy were playing a video game, Nudge was curled up with my mom reading a fashion magazine, Jeb was surfing the web on his computer, Total and Akila were asleep on the floor in the sun. And Fang was…

“Max! Did you find Angel?” my mom asked.

“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “Angel’s decided to stay with Dr. Guntha-Munka and help him with his research. She thinks that will give her the best chance.”

“But she’s okay?”

I nodded. “As okay as a crazy little monkey can be. I mean, she seems to be staying there by choice. She wouldn’t come back with me.”

Everyone was silent. I glanced around as they digested this info. “Where’s Fang?”

“He’s in our room,” said Gazzy. “He’s going to play the winner of Crash Test Four. Which will be me.”

“I don’t think so!” said Iggy, affronted. I guess Iggy had really been progressing in his “vision lessons.”

I headed down the hall to talk to the one person who could make me feel better about the Angel situation.

I tapped on the door to their room, then opened it. The beds were empty. The door to the bathroom was open and the bathroom was empty. The window was open.

Then I saw the note. And my heart seemed to thud to a stop.

74

GIVE THIS NOTE TO MAx was hastily scrawled on the folded piece of paper. Fang’s writing was always hasty, always scrawled. A beautiful mess. I opened it up.

Hey. Not sure what’s going on – gonna go find out. Be careful and don’t do anything stupid. Don’t come after me – you’re better on your own. See you. F.

I sat on the edge of the bed, holding the note.

Okay, so Fang had looked up vague in the dictionary, and this was what it had said to write. It could mean anything. So why was my heart thumping with fear?

Nudge came in. “I can’t believe Angel’s really gone,” she said. “She’ll come back; I’m sure of it.” Then she saw my face. “What’s wrong? I mean, what else?”

I handed her the note.

She read it and frowned. “He left? He’s gone too? When is he gonna be back?”

“Don’t know,” I managed to say.

Okay, if you’ve been reading about our adventures all along, you know me by now. You know that even in the face of the worst danger possible, I keep my head together and often manage a tart quip besides. It’s part of being a leader.

But this note had really thrown me. I was so freaking sick of people leaving me and leaving little notes behind. And what did he mean, I was better on my own? On my own, like, without him? Was he crazy? Who was he to make that decision?

I felt frozen except for the burning hot tears starting to leak out.

“Max?” Nudge asked, sitting next to me. Her coffeebrown eyes were wide. She was used to seeing me leap into action, and my just sitting there looking like a stunned turtle was shocking enough, but she almost never saw me cry. No one did. I was tough. I was strong. I was a rock.

Meanwhile, I sort of slid sideways on the bed, looking at a tilted world.

I felt Nudge get up, heard her run out of the room and down the hall. “Dr. Martinez! Come quick! Something’s wrong with Max!”

In a few seconds I felt my mom sit down on the bed, felt her cool hand on my burning forehead.

“Max, honey, what is it?”

Then the room was full of people talking in hushed tones. My mom was stroking my hair away from my face, and I kept wincing as her hand got caught in the tangles.

“Max?” said Nudge. “Iggy made cookies. Here. Just take a bite.”

A cookie was pressed against my lips, and I inhaled its chocolatey scent. I opened my eyes all the way, saw what was left of my flock, plus my mom, Dylan, and Jeb, all gathered around me.

“Are you okay?” Nudge looked worried.

“We read the note,” said my mom. Then she turned to the others. “Guys, could you give us a minute?” Everyone backed out, and Iggy shut the door behind them.

“You love him so much it feels like you can’t go on without him,” said my mom.

My startled gaze met her eyes. I had never admitted to anyone, even myself, how much I loved Fang. I bowed my head and gave a tiny nod. Mom took one of my hands and held it.

“You feel like you might die without him,” she said. I tried to swallow, couldn’t, and nodded again.

Her hand raised my chin a bit so I could see her clearly.

“Okay,” she said gently. “So what are you going to do about it?”

75

FANG WONDERED if Max had seen his note yet. She was going to want to kill him. When – if – he saw her again. He couldn’t think about it. That butt Dylan had been right. Fang had to get as far away from the flock as possible. Where, he wasn’t sure. Montana? Canada? Papua New Guinea?

But first he had to get some answers at the doctor’s house.

And there it was. He’d seen the satellite pictures when Nudge found them. The terrace was wide and empty except for a few lounge chairs. No one was in the pool. Fang dropped lightly onto the terrace.

In the next second, he felt a stinging pinch in his upper arm. Looking down, he saw a small dart sticking out of his sleeve.

He started to swear, glancing around wildly for the shooter. Then his knees buckled, he swiped the dart away, and the world swirled around him. He saw Dr. Hans walking toward him with a smile, and four uniformed guards rushing over.

“Fang,” said Dr. G-H. “I knew it was just a matter of time before either you or Max got here. As you can see, we’ve been waiting for you.”

Fang fell over, whacking his head against the stone terrace but unable to cry out. He weighed a thousand pounds. His hand was too heavy to raise, his eyelids too heavy to keep open. He was drifting into unconsciousness. The last thing he saw was Angel’s face looking shocked, her mouth an O of surprise.

Then there was nothing.

76

PAIN.

Fang’s head was killing him. He lifted a hand to his temple and felt a large knot there. A scrape on the skin was clotted with blood. There was a large, pulpy lump on the back of his head – that too had dried blood on it. His lip was split and swollen. He couldn’t move the fingers of his other hand – they felt like they’d been dipped in gasoline and set on fire.

Breathing hurt so much that Fang knew several of his ribs were broken. He’d felt it before. Where was he? He struggled to remember. What had happened to him?

“Fang?” Angel’s voice slowly sank through the haze surrounding him.

“Unggh.” Fang tried to swallow. The taste of blood filled his mouth. His nose was probably broken as well. Finally, with all of his concentration, he managed to pry open one eye. The other eye was swollen shut.

He blinked a couple times. The world was blurry and indistinct. He was aware of bright lights, splotches of darkness, the subdued beeping and hissing of machines. Oh, God – was he back at the School?

“School,” he managed to croak. A machine started beeping more quickly as fear-fueled adrenaline dumped into his veins like ice water.

“No, no, Fang. This isn’t the School. You’re okay.” Angel’s small hand patted his arm. He felt other hands gently but firmly lower his arm to his side, and then a thick, heavy cuff was snapped around his wrist. With great effort he swiveled his head and saw a white-uniformed nurse-type person checking the restraint to make sure it would hold.

His eye searched for Angel. She was standing close to him. Her face looked concerned, but she tried to smile.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” she said.

“Whass goin’ on?” Fang slurred. “Wha happen?”

“You’re at Dr. Hans’s house, in Malibu,” Angel said.

“They gave you a… sedative so you wouldn’t be upset. It knocked you out, but then you woke up and, like, went crazy. You were smashing everything in sight, threw a chair through a window, you were punching people. They tried to… settle you. But you got hurt.” Her voice ended in a whisper and she looked away, her cheeks flaming.

Fang didn’t remember any of it. He wondered if it had really happened that way. Slowly and painfully, he looked at his other arm, which was also restrained. It had an IV drip going into it.

“Whass dat?” he asked.

Angel licked her lips. “It’s something to… help you; something -”

“Oh, our guest is awake, is he?”

Fang turned his head, feeling as if concrete bowling balls were shifting inside his skull. Dr. Gunther-Hagen was walking toward him, suit crisp as always.

“Wha the heck is goin’ on?” Fang managed.

“Fang, I’m glad you’ve joined us,” said the doctor. “Angel here has made the right decision, to help me in my work. And now you’re here too. Fang, by now you’re well aware that the world will soon change irrevocably. Not many people will survive. The ones who do will have some sort of adaptive edge that gives them an advantage.”

“Leh me up,” said Fang, wondering if he could sit up. “Gettin’ outta here.”

“No, not just yet, Fang,” said the doctor. He gestured to the drip in Fang’s arm. “I’ve developed a… vaccine, if you will. Given to normal humans, it will enable them to adapt to the new world environment, enhancing their ability to survive. You are already superior, already evolved. I’m incredibly excited to see what effect this will have on you.”

Fang glared at the doctor as well as he could with just one eye. It was hard to make a croak sound menacing, but he tried. “Geh me outta here.”

“You have about another ten minutes to go on the IV,” said the doctor. “This reactant will combine with your DNA and help spur greater mutations. Your personal evolution will be sped up, made more dramatic.”

Oh, great, Fang thought in dismay, subtly testing the strength of his wrist restraints. What would be next? Turning into the Hulk whenever he got upset? That was the problem with mad, megalomaniac scientist types. They loved the idea of the experiment so much that any consequences it had for anyone else seemed unimportant.

“You’ve observed what a spectacular specimen Dylan is?” the doctor went on. “He’s progressing incredibly well. In a very short time, probably days, he’ll be decidedly stronger, faster, and more psychologically sophisticated than the flock.”

The doctor looked incredibly pleased with himself, practically trembling with excitement and expectation. “This biological material I’m injecting will help you catch up to him. By that time, of course, Max will already be firmly paired – hmm, perhaps even mated – with Dylan. They will evolve quite brilliantly – together.”

Fang became aware of a huge weight on his chest. Nothing was there, but it felt as if an elephant were sitting on him.

The doctor was still talking. “You’ll be ready to lead your own flock by then. Find your own mate. A fit more suited to survival.”

Fang started to feel light-headed. “Chest hurts,” he whispered. “Can’t breathe.”

“You’re fine,” said Dr. G-H confidently. “By the way, do you realize that when Max was here earlier, Fang, she refused my offer to save your life?”

No. He tried to suck in a breath, but the pain in his chest was terrible, and he couldn’t move his muscles. His head fell back, and dimly he heard a beeping sound turn into a steady drone. From very far away, Fang heard Angel cry, “Oh, my God! Fang! Doctor Hans!”

77

ANGEL STARED at the heart monitor in horror. A minute ago, its fast, even spikes had showed Fang’s normal heart rate of a 140 beats per minute. Now it was a flat line.

Fang lay still on the bed, his good eye slightly open. Angel grabbed his hand.

“Fang! Fang! Wake up!”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen!” said Dr. Hans, looking upset. “This drug has been tested on many subjects!”

“But were they normal, to begin with?”

“Yes, mostly…” Dr. Hans trailed off.

The drone of Fang’s monitor filled Angel’s head. She smacked her hand down on Fang’s bed, hard. “Do something!” she yelled at Dr. Hans. “You promised me he wouldn’t get hurt! You promised! Do something!”

“It’s too late!” said Dr. Hans. “What can I do?”

Whirling, Angel scanned the lab for a phone but spotted nothing. She sped out of the room and leaped up the steps. Still nothing. She raced outside onto the terrace, and once there, closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and pressed her fingers to her temples. Max, come, she thought as hard as she could. Come here now. Fang needs your help. Come now!

Her eyes popped open and she started scanning the sky, though she knew there was no way Max could be there yet. She didn’t even know if Max had heard her – she’d never tried to send a message that far before. There wasn’t time for her to fly to the safe house to get Max. All she could do was send thought messages.

Even though it was already too late.

78

MAX, COME. COME HERE NOW. Fang needs your help. Come now!

I froze, balanced on the balcony. I turned to Nudge.

“Did you hear that?”

Nudge shook her head.

“Got a message from Angel,” I said. “She said Fang needed my help and to come there now.”

“Fang is there?” Nudge asked, unfolding her wings, getting ready to jump off after me. “What happened?”

I paused for just a minute, thinking. I didn’t trust Angel, and I sure as heck didn’t trust Dr. Nightmare. But if Fang was there… if he really did need my help…

I jumped off the balcony, swearing, and rose into the air. “I can’t take the chance,” I told Nudge. “Angel alone – I might not go. But I can’t take the chance with Fang. I’m going.”

I decided to go into warp drive, leaving Nudge and the others, now clustered on the balcony, behind. Pressing my hands flat against the legs of my jeans, I aimed myself in the direction of Malibu. Then I just… shifted into overdrive. Within fifteen seconds, I was streaking through the sky at upward of 250 miles an hour. I’d be there in minutes.

One thing was certain: If something had happened to Fang, and it was Angel’s fault, we’d never be in the same flock again. I promised myself that much.

79

DOWN IN THE LAB, Dr. Hans was a blur of activity. He grabbed a hypodermic needle of something and shot it into Fang’s IV line. Angel held Fang’s hand, watching the machine tensely. Nothing happened.

“Blast!” Dr. Hans shouted. He dashed into the adjacent supply room.

Angel was in a deep state of shock. When her Voice had given her the premonition about Fang, she had just reported it. She hadn’t known why, when, or how it would happen. Somehow, she’d thought that telling Max and the others would help it not come true.

Then Dylan had shown up, seeming like the perfect answer: The Voice had said that the best way for everyone to survive was to split the flock up, have two flocks. Max could have Dylan, and Fang could join forces with Angel. Angel would be the leader of her flock, and Fang would be second in command. Having Max and Fang in the same flock was overkill.

Dr. Hans had promised that if Fang came here, everything would be perfect. Then his goons had beaten Fang up, and Dr. Hans had started the IV drip into Fang’s arm, telling Angel that Fang was on his way to becoming the most ultimate Fang possible. Lies.

Angel’s back straightened – she felt Max coming. Quietly she left Fang’s side and went to unlock the lab door. She glanced around but didn’t see Dr. Hans’s security team. Then she sat again at Fang’s side and picked up his hand.

Was she imagining it, or was Fang’s hand already becoming cold?

80

I DROPPED DOWN onto the terrace like a bird of prey. As soon as my sneakers thunked onto solid ground, I raced along the terrace until I saw an open door. I rushed through it and immediately down some steps. Somehow, I had seen these steps in the message Angel had sent me – I knew just where to go.

“Fang! Angel?” I yelled, not even trying for stealth. I was storming the castle, not stealing the jewels.

Then through a vast maze of lab tables, metal and glass shelving, gurneys, and all kinds of medical equipment, I saw Fang in a hospital bed, looking beat up, bruised. Way too still and way too pale. Then Angel, rising slowly from beside him like a zombie from the grave and drifting slowly toward me.

“Max, I…”

“Angel! What the -” I sprinted across the lab to Fang’s side.

I grabbed his hand. It was cold. unbelievably cold. One eye was open slightly, unseeing.

Fang will be the first to -

I couldn’t let myself think it. I couldn’t. But he really looked… He felt…

Just then Dr. Gunther-Hagen appeared from a side room holding some medical supplies. “I see you now regret your decision, Max.”

I snarled at the doctor, “What in the name of God happened, you butcher? He looks like he went through a wood chipper!”

“He had a bad reaction to a sedative,” said the doctor stiffly. “He was injured.”

The solid drone of an alarm sank into my brain, and my gaze snapped to the machinery next to the bed. There was no heartbeat registering.

“He’s flatlining!” I shrieked, and grabbed Dr. Hans by the front of his jacket. “Fix him!”

“Why are you so surprised, Max? Your insistence upon being with Fang above all else – well, I warned you quite clearly that no good would come of it. You had the chance to protect all of the ones you love.”

Had he killed Fang? Could he have possibly…?

“There’s nothing anyone can do. It’s too late. I’m sorry.”

He had killed Fang. That sentence made absolutely zero sense to me. It simply did not compute. I shoved the doctor away and turned to Fang.

I wanted to shake Fang’s shoulders, splash cold water on his face, tug on his hair. I stared at him. The parts of his face that weren’t purple and bruised were not… life colored.

It just didn’t make sense.

A remote part of my consciousness registered that the rest of the flock had arrived, were slamming through the lab door. I couldn’t even look up. Fang’s hand was limp and cold in mine. My brain hadn’t kicked into gear yet, had frozen at the entry of the unthinkable thought.

Fang – after everything we’d been through – was…

Gone?

81

THAT SMALL PART of my mind that was still functioning finally made me look up and catch sight of the flock rushing in just as the lab security team flooded the room from another doorway.

The unfriendly familiar face of our old nemesis, Mr. Chu, shocked me out of my daze for a moment.

“Take ’em out!” I screeched. “Show no mercy!”

“On it!” Iggy shouted. Even though they knew I couldn’t leave Fang’s side, I’d never seen the flock look so confident and determined. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that we were in a lab, and we knew our way around labs.

But then again, so did these guys.

Iggy immediately flew across the room, swiping glass jars and tubes off shelves and tables and then knocking over as many freestanding shelves as he could.

The instant hurricane of thunderous chaos gave the flock an advantage. By the time the men had chosen their targets, the kids had spread to all corners of the room. Grown-ups just think too much.

“Skateboard!” Iggy called to Gazzy. The Gasman used his wings to propel himself toward the high ceiling and grabbed the pipes running across the length of the room. Swinging off like a trapeze artist, he landed on a gurney and went zooming across the lab, knocking over two guards as he went.

Then, an encore performance: Gazzy gurney-boarded back the other way, over the two dazed guards. But this time, the gurney flipped as it caught one of the guards’ heads.

Gazzy went flying as though he’d been launched from a cannon, but it was a good shot. He knocked another guard down before he hit the floor.

Nudge had grabbed a metal IV stand and was spinning around with it like a wild whirling dervish. It smashed into a guard’s face and he went down, but not a second later, Nudge took a hard punch to the side of her face from another man, her skin splitting under the impact.

The flock’s never been shy about using crotch blows, and with a roar, Nudge nailed her assailant, who dropped like a sack of dog food.

“Sorry,” Nudge said, kicking him in the head to knock him out. Then she and Iggy wasted no time rolling him and the other man into nearby empty extralarge lab animal crates.

“Justice!” Nudge cried, slamming a door shut.

There were five guards down, but several to go. Mr. Chu and Dr. Hans were still on the loose as well. It could have easily been a lost battle without the secret weapon. Dylan.

The youngest but most powerful bird kid held nothing back as he took out one attacker after another. He was coldly furious and determined – almost scary. Everything about his quiet, easygoing demeanor had disappeared. Now his fists slammed into faces, he spun into kicks that had taken us years to master. His blows knocked grown men off their feet; his roundhouse kick shot a guard eight feet back, into a wall.

Total had been right: He was a fighting machine.

Meanwhile, Dr. Hans was watching everything from a safe corner, a scientist unemotionally observing his lab animals. But no one had noticed that Angel was missing from the fray. She now dashed out of the supply room clutching six or seven different-sized containers.

“Gazzy! What’s good here?” It was flock shorthand for: Is there anything you can make blow up here?

Gazzy had just recovered from his cannon-fire episode. He ran over and scanned faster than a computer. “No explosives, but there’s some pretty acidic stuff,” he determined, pulling three canisters aside. “Some of this is gonna hurt super bad.”

“Not so fast, children.” The impeccably dressed Mr. Chu – who’d been cowering under a lab table to avoid the fight, or to avoid ruining his suit – now appeared at their side.

“ Chu!” Gazzy gasped.

“You know a lot about toxic chemicals, if I remember, sir,” Angel said, stalling. “Maybe you can help us.”

At that moment, with a perfect swan dive from the suspended pipes, Iggy crashed into Mr. Chu, knocking him onto the floor. The breath left Mr. Chu’s body in a sharp oof! Iggy got his hands around Mr. Chu’s neck and started twisting.

“Oh, my God!” Gazzy shouted a few seconds later. Angel’s mouth was open in horror.

Mr. Chu’s face had come off in Iggy’s hands, and Iggy was now holding it like a huge, disgusting face glove.

“What happened?” Iggy cried.

Nudge hurried to his side. There, on the ground, with Mr. Chu’s body, was the head of a… freak? His boyish, round face was flat, green, and scaly, and he had a kid’s wide eyes.

“Jeezum pete,” Nudge breathed.

“Don’t kill me,” pleaded the freak.

“Let Robert up,” ordered Dr. Death from the corner.

“Robert?” Iggy almost shrieked. “He’s green!”

“Watch it, guys!” Dylan warned. Some of the men who’d been down earlier were back up and staggering toward them. They moved just slowly enough to allow Angel, Nudge, and Gazzy to pry open the containers and start dousing the men with chemical agents that kids should never have access to.

“Incapacitate them,” Dylan ordered, catching his breath. “I’ve got to get the doctor.”

82

THE FIGHT UNFOLDED like background noise. White noise. In the foreground, even with his ghastly pale face looking dead in my hands, my fingers clenching his ragged hair, all I could see was random images of Fang, not dead.

Fang telling me stupid fart jokes from the dog crate next to mine at the School, trying to make me laugh.

Fang asleep at Jeb’s old house, and me jumping wildly on his bed to wake him up. Him pretending to be asleep. Me laughing when I “accidentally” kicked him where it counts. Him dumping me off the bed.

Fang gagging on my first attempt at cooking dinner after Jeb disappeared. Him spitting out the mac and cheese. Me dumping the rest of the bowl on him in response.

Fang on the beach, that first time he was badly injured. Me realizing how I felt about him.

Fang kissing me. So close I couldn’t even see his dark eyes anymore. The first time. The second time. The third.

I could remember each and every one of them. Would always remember them.

Fang.

Not.

Dead.

83

THEN A COUPLE of my nerves started firing again, and my muscles unfroze.

“Fang! Come back!” I started pulling his hair. Shaking his head and shoulders. Hard. “Wake up! Snap out of it! You stupid jerk! I am going to kill you if you die on me!”

I put my mouth up to his ear. “Did you hear me?” I was yelling right into it. “Dying is not on the agenda! Not part of my plan!”

That wasn’t working. I pounded on his chest. “Get up! After everything we’ve been through, are you going to give up now? Are you that much of a wuss? We need you, you butthead! I need you. I – I love you, Fang.”

I was choking on dry sobs now. “Did you hear that?

Why I didn’t I tell you before? You can’t die before I tell you that. You can’t!”

Gulping, I looked around wildly, as if I would see something marked “Second chances. use sparingly.” All I saw were a bunch of unconscious guards, bloody bird kids, and a lizard boy.

And a large hypodermic needle, on the stand holding medical equipment next to Fang’s bed. The tube was marked “Adrenaline. Dangerous.”

I reached for it. I had seen this movie once -

“I tried that!” said Dr. Disaster, who was tightly in Dylan’s grip. “Don’t you think I tried that? I shot it into his IV! It did nothing!”

In a split second I grabbed the hypo, whirled, and sank the needle deep into Fang’s chest, directly into his heart. I pressed the plunger home, emptying its entire contents. If he had any chance at all, this was it. And if it wouldn’t save his life, then it would surely end it once and for all, right now.

Being a leader means you have to make life-or-death decisions sometimes. And I made this one.

84

TIME BECAME ELASTIC, stretching out endlessly. Each second seemed to take hours. Everyone was moving in slow motion, all blurry, all dreamy. I couldn’t understand what they were saying. I got an impression of Iggy and Gazzy holding Robert down, trying to pull off his new head, without success. I saw Nudge and Angel hugging. Angel was crying.

One by one they turned to look at me and Fang, concern and pain on their faces.

I looked down at Fang, at that smooth, tan place on his neck where his pulse should have been beating. I squeezed his cold hand hard, willing him to squeeze back. I dropped my head to his chest and closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see the machine flatlining in front of me.

Fang, come on, I thought. You promised you would never leave me. You promised. I gulped again, hearing nothing, feeling nothing under my ear. This can’t be, can’t be, can’t be… Oh, God, help me, help me…

My mind was starting to completely shut down in order not to feel this pain, when I heard a beep.

Then another beep.

Then I felt Fang’s chest rise as he gasped in a breath, and I felt his heart beat, right under my cheek.

I bolted upright, staring at his face. His mouth opened. His good eye widened. I grabbed his hand in both of mine and clasped it hard against my chest. I couldn’t say anything, could only stare at that poor, battered face I loved so much.

Fang blinked hazily and breathed in again. His gaze fell on me, and I must have looked wild with panic and misery.

“Fang?” I gasped.

He blinked, tried to swallow. “ ‘Ssup?” he said groggily.

I’m pretty much of the stoical school of emotiveness, but everything I was feeling burst through me like a flood through a dam. I dropped my head back onto his chest, my arms around him, and sobbed.

85

“LET ME GO! I command you!” I heard Dr. Gunther-Hagen shout. “Have you lost your mind? Have you forgotten who I am?” I looked around and saw Dylan, flecked with blood and sporting a black eye, grasping the doctor from behind. He was staring at the doctor with fury, even hatred.

“I think you’ve forgotten who I am,” Dylan countered. “That is, not a robot. Someone with a mind of his own.”

“But you – you owe me your life!” Dr. G-H stammered.

“I’m not sure I want this life,” Dylan said sadly. And he looked at me and Fang.

The doctor’s eyes got even wider as he became fully aware of Fang’s regained consciousness. “This doesn’t make sense!”

“You don’t make sense!” I bit out through my tears. “We’re not just test subjects! We’re not just for experimenting! You people never learn!”

“I see it all clearly now,” Dylan said in an oddly flat, quiet voice. “I see what you are. I see what you made me. And I see what I’ll become.” He looked over at another gurney a few yards away from him. “Iggy, can you help me with this? Grab his legs.”

Iggy and Dylan lifted the struggling doctor onto the gurney. “Gazzy, Nudge, Angel, you too. We need help strapping him down.”

I was dumbfounded as I watched my flock restrain this evil genius on a gurney. As had been done to us so many times in our lives.

But the next thing surprised me even more.

Dylan picked up another fully loaded giant hypo from the tray next to Fang’s bed. “This should do nicely.” He readied the needle like a trained nurse. It was obvious that he’d been raised on injections.

Dr. Gunther-Hagen craned his head to look around at his lab, now destroyed; his guards, now useless; his subject Fang, now saved. And his master creation, Dylan, who looked as though he wanted to kill him.

“That’s what I call giving someone a taste of their own medicine,” Gazzy whispered.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, Dylan,” the doctor said.

“Let’s pin his arm down, please,” Dylan directed quietly, and placed the tip of the needle on the vein. He was like a beautiful, powerful avenging angel.

And yet – he was… scary.

Nudge bit her lip. Angel looked confused. Iggy didn’t look anything.

I suddenly had a flash of myself saying something – it seemed like years ago. Someday we might have only a few seconds to figure out the meaning of life.

“Oh, God, Dylan – don’t,” I found myself pleading. “It’s just – enough. Enough already.”

Dylan stopped. Just like that. “Okay, Max.”

He looked at me, then at Fang, then at the doctor.

Then he plunged the needle into his own arm.