The Sky Is Falling

by James Patterson

  Our various bruises and scrapes had healed completely, and Fang’s injuries were only a bad memory—as was Dylan’s pseudo suicide attempt. He’d suffered no ill consequences of the injection thus far. Plus, we hadn’t seen Dr. Gunther-Hagen again. We’d rolled him kicking and screaming into a giant lab cold-storage room before splitting that day, but I was sure one of his posse would revive and let the doc out of his icebox before he turned into a Popsicle.

  “Is that the justice of the peace?” Nudge whispered.

  “Yeah. She’s a friend of my mom’s.” I saw my mom and my half sister, Ella, sitting in the second row, looking back to see us. Jeb and Dylan were in the next row, and a bunch of our friends from CSM. Dylan had really surprised me, down in Dr. G-H’s lair. I was gonna keep an eye on him.

  “There’s the music,” said Angel.

  “Okay, you’re up,” I said. The two of us really hadn’t hashed things out. I knew we’d have to, if the flock was going to survive. But not today.

  Angel slipped through the tent door. Everyone oohed and aahed at how pretty she was. She walked slowly down the red carpet, strewing white rose petals everywhere. Deceptively innocent, I thought. But at the same time it was comforting to see her looking so much like my old Angel. Even though we hadn’t fully made amends for all that had happened between us, I decided to suck it up and enjoy the rush of everything that was happening today.

  “Your turn,” I told Nudge. She gave me one last smile, then headed down the red carpet slowly, walking in time to the music. I peered out and saw Gazzy step forward, right in front of the justice of the peace. He took Angel’s arm and they walked a few paces, then separated and stood on either side of the decorated podium.

  I waited until Nudge was halfway down the aisle, then I left the tent, hoping I didn’t throw up from tension. Everyone’s heads turned toward me, and I heard excited whispers ripple through the small crowd. I tried to smile, but I was so nervous I could manage only a sickly grin. Ahead of me, Iggy stepped out unerringly and took Nudge’s arm. They walked a few paces, then separated, like Angel and Gazzy.

  Then I could see Fang. His dark eyes seemed to burn as they locked on me. I tried to swallow and couldn’t. I was holding my bouquet so tightly I was about to snap all the stems. Everyone else faded away, and I had eyes only for Fang. His black hair had been cut, somewhat. He wore a midnight-blue suit and an actual tie that he’d probably already figured out fifteen ways to kill someone with.

  It seemed to take forever, but I finally made it up to Fang without tripping on my impractical fancy shoes. He held out his arm and I took it, staring into his eyes. We walked up to the justice of the peace… and separated, each standing on our own side.

  Then everyone really craned their heads around to see Akila stepping lightly from the tent. A wreath of flowers like mine rested between her pointed ears, with lisianthus picking up the blue of her intelligent eyes.

  She walked majestically down the aisle, just as my mom had practiced with her.

  As she stopped in front of the justice of the peace, Total stepped over to join her. He was wearing a russet-colored bow tie, and his black fur shone. Even his black wings, which he held out proudly, looked perfectly groomed.

  Total grinned at me, and I smiled back at him. It didn’t matter that he was shorter than Akila, that she outweighed him by sixty pounds. It didn’t matter that he was a mutant, and she was 100 percent glorious purebred. The way they looked at each other would have brought a tear to my eye, if I were susceptible to that kind of thing.

  Total knew how difficult their future would be. He could fly on his own—he was as capable as we were of jumping up and going somewhere at a moment’s notice. Akila was stuck with more traditional means of travel. Total could talk to us, express his wants and needs (lord, could he), whereas he had to interpret Akila for us.

  But they had decided to stick together, despite the odds. Total had fastened on to Akila as being the perfect match for him the moment he had first seen her. He hadn’t given up. And now they were declaring their vows in front of everyone they cared about.

  My mind wandered as the justice of the peace began the ceremony. I heard Total say, “I do,” in a voice quavering with emotion. Next to him, Akila nodded that she did too.

  I couldn’t help looking over at Fang, unbearably handsome, the afternoon sun turning his skin to a warm gold. He was already looking at me, and I shivered at the expression on his face. In his eyes I saw the promise of our future together. A future full of danger, excitement, persecution, thrilling victories, and lessons learned—some easy, some hard.

  And every bit of it would be okay. Because we would be together.

  THE OTHER

  EPILOGUE

  AS IT TURNED OUT, that assumption was wrong.

  After the reception, which was pretty much the funnest party I’d ever been to, especially since I didn’t have to put it together or clean up afterward, we headed back to our current safe house. Fang had gone back about an hour before but had insisted I stay and eat cake and party down with my funky self.

  So I did, in my fancy dress and fancy shoes and fancy hair, and I couldn’t help marveling at the fact that it wasn’t all that long ago that we were sleeping in subway tunnels in New York, and it probably wouldn’t be all that long before some similar change in our circumstances took place.

  But tonight was fabulous, and I was surrounded by my favorite people, and I kept thinking of funny things to tell Fang, like how Total looked with white frosting all over his face.

  So Nudge and I flew back, followed by Angel, Gazzy, and Iggy. I was thankful that I could usually wear jeans or sweats. Flying in a dress is not a picnic. Talk about vulnerable.

  We landed lightly on our back deck. Inside, a few lights were on. I kicked off my fashionable, uncomfortable shoes and went to find Fang. I’d brought him a piece of cake, and though it was a teensy bit squooshed, I was sure it’d taste okay.

  I headed down the hall and tapped on the closed door of the boys’ room. No answer. Had he already fallen asleep?

  I opened the door a bit and peered in. It was dark.

  “Fang?”

  I flicked on the light. The room was empty; his bed was still made. The bathroom was next door, and it too was dark and empty.

  “Fang?” I called louder. “We’re home!”

  I headed out to ask the others if they’d seen him, and that was when I saw the note.

  It was propped on the dresser, by the door—a white envelope with my name written on it in Fang’s spiky handwriting.

  My heart dropped somewhere around my stomach, and my skin went cold, as if I’d stepped into a freezer. Slowly I reached out and picked up the envelope. I opened the flap and pulled out a sheet of paper.

  “Max? What are you doing? We’re gonna take a couple more photos,” said Nudge, swinging around the door. “Since we probably won’t all be clean at the same time ever again.”

  I swallowed. “Is Fang out there with you guys?”

  “No—he’s not in here?”

  “No. I found this.” I showed her the note, and her eyes went wide.

  “What is it?” Her voice was hushed and solemn.

  Breathing shallowly, I unfolded the paper. I didn’t want to read it—like, if I didn’t read it, it would make it not be true.

  But I was not a coward. Even about this. So I started reading aloud.

  Dear Max—

  You looked so beautiful today. I’m going to remember what you looked like forever.

  Nudge put her hand over her mouth.

  And I hope you remember me the same way—clean, ha-ha. I’m glad our last time together was happy.

  But I’m leaving tonight, leaving the flock, and this time it’s for good. I don’t know if I’ll ever see any of you again. The thing is, Max, that everyone is a little bit right. Added up all together, it makes this one big right.

  Dylan’s a little bit right about how my being here might be putting the rest of you in
danger. The threat might have been just about Dr. Hans, but we don’t know that for sure. Angel is a little bit right about how splitting up the flock will help all of us survive. And the rest of the flock is a little bit right about how when you and I are together, we’re focused on each other—we can’t help it.

  The thing is, Maximum, I love you. I can’t help but be focused on you when we’re together. If you’re in the room, I want to be next to you. If you’re gone, I think about you. You’re who I want to talk to. In a fight, I want you at my back. When we’re together, the sun is shining. When we’re apart, everything is in shades of gray.

  I hope you’ll forgive me someday for turning our worlds into shades of gray—at least for a while.

  I stopped for a moment, trying to breathe. The others had trickled down the hall to see what we were doing, and they were all crowded around Nudge, their faces shocked.

  You’re not at your best when you’re focused on me. I mean, you’re at your best Maxness, but not your best leaderness. I mostly need Maxness. The flock mostly needs leaderness. And Angel, if you’re listening to this, it ain’t you, sweetie. Not yet.

  I glanced at Angel, and her cheeks flushed.

  At least for a couple more years, the flock needs a leader to survive, no matter how capable everyone thinks he or she is. The truth is that they do need a leader, and the truth is that you are the best leader. It’s one of the things I love about you.

  But the more I thought about it, the more sure I got that this is the right thing to do. Maybe not for you, or for me, but for all of us together, our flock.

  Please don’t try to find me. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, besides wearing that suit today, and seeing you again will only make it harder. You’d ask me to come back, and I would, because I can’t say no to you. But all the same problems would still be there, and I’d end up leaving again, and then we’d have to go through this all over again.

  Please make us only go through this once.

  My throat was closing up, my voice becoming raspy. I could think of lots of times he’d told me no. Nudge edged her hand into the crook of my arm, holding on as if we both needed support.

  I love you. I love your smile, your snarl, your grin, your face when you’re sleeping. I love your hair streaming out behind you as we fly, with the sunlight making it shine, if it doesn’t have too much mud or blood in it. I love seeing your wings spreading out, white and brown and tan and speckled, and the tiny, downy feathers right at the top of your shoulders. I love your eyes, whether they’re cold or calculating or suspicious or laughing or warm, like when you look at me.

  I started crying, like a big doofus. I couldn’t believe this. I wiped my tears away with the sleeve of my fancy dress.

  You’re the best warrior I know, the best leader. You’re the most comforting mom we’ve ever had. You’re the biggest goofball, the worst driver, and a truly lousy cook. You’ve kept us safe and provided for us, in good times and bad. You’re my best friend, my first and only love, and the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, with wings or without.

  Now everyone was crying, even Iggy. We were all sniffing and wiping our faces, and I knew I was right: Reading this out loud meant it had really happened, was really happening. To all of us, not just to me.

  Tell you what, sweetie: If in twenty years we haven’t expired yet, and the world is still more or less in one piece, I’ll meet you at the top of that cliff where we first met the hawks and learned to fly with them. You know the one. Twenty years from today, if I’m alive, I’ll be there, waiting for you. You can bet on it.

  Good-bye, my love.

  Fang

  P.S. Tell everyone I sure will miss them.

  We were all silent. The letter was wet with my tears, making some of the words run. Fang was usually, well, reserved is a nice word for it. But this letter had poured out a lifetime’s worth of love. I felt numb, like someone had just whapped my head hard.

  “I can’t believe it,” said Gazzy.

  “That butthead,” said Iggy.

  “This is my fault,” said Angel, her shoulders hunching with sobs.

  “No,” I told her. “You’ve done a lot of asinine things, but this is not your fault.”

  I felt very old and very tired. Total and Akila’s wedding seemed as if it had happened a year ago. Nudge put her head on my shoulder. I set the letter down and put my arms around her.

  Tears were dripping onto my dress, but I wasn’t making any sound. There was no sound that could express this kind of pain.

  I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to do anything. Fang was not waiting for me out in the living room. Tomorrow morning, when I woke up, Fang would still be gone.

  I feel like I’m going to HURL. Which, even if I wanted to do, I couldn’t do, because I haven’t eaten. I can’t even drag myself out of my room. And while I’d be able to muster the strength to roundhouse Fang until he begged for MERCY, I’d be mush around an Eraser. In fact, all I want to flipping do is lie on this bed with our old laptop and catch up on my Hulu. Apparently, being heartbroken is not leverage enough to get Nudge to give up the NEW computer, so I’m stuck with the old laptop.

  But what to my wondering eyes should appear, the very moment I turn the thing on?

  What did that stupid deserting crap-bag ex-boyfriend, ex-best friend with the most perfect stupid hair do? He DIDN’T delete his crap off the desktop before he fled my life and left me all alone. That’s what he did.

  Do I open it?

  Do I open it?

  Of course I freaking open it!!!!!!

  MaxProCon.doc MAX

  Pro Con

  Good leader Drill sergeant

  Could possibly kill anyone/thing with bare hands Could possibly kill me with bare hands

  Can save the world Has to save the world

  Pretty Doesn’t shower

  Smart Knows it all

  Good taste in music Can’t sing. At all.

  Likes me Hot for Dylan

  Eats as much as I do Burps like a trucker

  Believes in me Skeptical of EVERYONE else

  Needs me sometimes Doesn’t need me sometimes

  Thinks with her heart Reacts with her heart

  Keeps me on my game Stubborn doesn’t cover it

  Nice lips Bony toes

  Can act like she’s my mom Eew

  Wants to make the world a better place Takes on too much

  Could stay with her forever Distraction from what we need to do

  Unpostedblogs.doc

  Chad, Africa

  Hot, Hungry, and Thankful Not to Have HIV O’clock

  Here we are in Africa, where the focus is not on us and our problems. It’s on the crippling injustice in the world. The GDP (“gross domestic product”—don’t ask me; just look it up!) of Chad is 16.1 billion dollars. The GDP of the USA is 14.3 trillion dollars. Chew on that.

  It’s pretty overwhelming. What can I, in the tiny scope of one life, possibly do to make a lasting and large change in the world? I’m a bird kid and a borderline celebrity at this point… but still, I’m just a drop in the bucket.

  I’m down tonight, so here I am blithering on like Nudge. Max is asleep, and so is everyone else. Strange. We bird kids don’t take sleep for granted, you know? Occasionally things chill out… but they never really chill out. We just forget how crazy everything is….

  Okay. The bottom line is that what Angel said scared the bejeezy out of me. There. I said it.

  ’Cause I’m going to die “first” and “soon.”

  I could string that sinister little mind-reading Shirley Temple up by her pinafores for her total lack of elaboration. Except Max about beat me to it.

  I’m lucky. Somehow I got the “unable to visually emote” genetic modification. Because inside, when Angel said that, my blood froze and my bird bones ached.

  So what’s her prediction worth anyway? Where does it come from? From a Voice, like Max’s? Doesn’t mean it’s right. We only assume it’
s always going to be right, because it has the power to invade her brain and be so FLIPPING CREEPY. But creepy doesn’t mean all-powerful.

  It’s like I’m trying to talk myself out of this. Of course we’re going to die. And it’s probably going to be sooner rather than later. And it’s not going to be fun. Look at the life we lead.

  Twelve hours ago were we not being shot at by crazy guys on camels with semiautomatic weapons?

  That’s what I thought.

  Crap.

  Sigh.

  Fly on,

  Fang

  I’m Not Telling, Colorado

  The Day Before Our Birthday O’clock

  So, we have on The Gift List:

  Iggy—Gory, gooey, blood-spattering audiobook on CD. CHECK

  Nudge—584,395,004,981 fashion magazines. CHECK

  Gazzy—Illustrated history of blowing crap up for eons. CHECK CHECK

  Angel—Angel? A camera, a great gift for a smart, creative kid. CHECK

  Max—…

  Max—… Roses? They die. LAME

  Max—… Poetry? And she beats me up…. OW

  Max—… Jewelry?… Pretty?… Can’t be used (easily) as a weapon?

  What could possibly be right for Max? That girl is fiercer than a rattlesnake. Pft. In fact, the first few times we kissed, I thought she was one. That girl was a regular old teeth-banger. (And they call me Fang.) Thank goodness she was genetically engineered to have good teeth. If she had braces, my gums would have been ground beef. But I wouldn’t care if she was the worst teeth-banger in a pool of every high school student on the planet. In fact, I like her more because of it.

  Man, I don’t know. I’m really not sure. The secret to gifts is…? Right, ask me, the fifteen-year-old (tomorrow) bird man. I know everything about gift giving. I learned in charm school.

  I think the secret to a great gift is that it should be personal. It has to prove that you know and care about someone enough to know what she’d love. And I’m so dead.