Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports

77

"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.