Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports

23

"If we can all fly, why are we in the back of a semi?" Iggy whispered.

He was rewarded by having one of the Flyboys kick him hard in the ribs. "Oof!"

Nudge winced, practically feeling his pain with him. Since he was blind, he couldn't see her face or the sympathy she was trying to send his way.

Everything hurt. Nudge didn't know how long they'd been lying on the floor in the back of this big truck, feeling every bump in the road. They'd been tied up for hours, and she couldn't feel her hands anymore. Every time the truck bounced, her shoulder or her hip banged against the hard floor, and she was sure she'd have humongous bruises. They all would.

After the Flyboys had grabbed them, they'd put cloth hoods over their heads. Nudge had smelled something sickly sweet. She'd grown dizzy and then passed out. She'd woken up in the truck, heading God knew where. Well, probably the School. Or the Institute.

Either way, it was going to be a long drive. Which meant she could lie here and dread what was coming minute after minute, hour after hour.

What was coming: a cage. Awful, scary, really painful experiments, usually involving needles. Nudge tried not to whimper, thinking about it. Chemical smells. Whitecoats. Flashing lights, scary sounds. Knowing it was happening to the rest of the flock. And no Max, no Fang.

And all of this, being bound, seeing the rest of her flock also bound and in pain, not knowing where Max and Fang were or even if they'd be able to find the flock again-all of that stuff wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part was that when she'd woken up, when she'd counted heads in the truck, there had been only three.

Angel was missing.