“Yo, dogbreath,” I said to Total. “Get your paws off the Everglades.”
Total moved slightly so I could see the map, Fang ground the gears again, and we lurched on toward our destination: Itex headquarters.
Assuming Angel’s intel was good, it was time for us to learn just what the heck I was supposed to do to stop this company from destroying the world. I was tired of dodging it. I was tired of asking about it. I was ready to know.
119
Here’s something that might not occur to you: If a state trooper sees a weird, patchwork Toyota Echo hurtling down I-95, and it looks like half of a small country is immigrating to the States in this one little car, you might get stopped.
Just FYI.
In general, the six of us preferred to avoid law enforcement agents of any kind. Especially since we never knew whether they were the real thing or if they would suddenly turn into Erasers, as just another challenge in this twisted lab test of a life we led.
“Should we bail?” Fang asked, looking at the flashing lights in the rearview mirror.
“Probably.” I rubbed my forehead, trying to muster energy for whatever might be coming. I turned back to the others. “We’ll stop, and as soon as it looks freaky, up and away, okay?”
I got solemn nods from everyone.
“I’m with Iggy,” Total said, leaping into the backseat.
Fang clumsily pulled onto the shoulder, kicking up dust and gravel. We shared a glance as a woman in a state trooper uniform got out of her cruiser and walked toward us. We unlocked the car doors and poised for takeoff.
The trooper leaned down into Fang’s window, her broad-brimmed hat shadowing her face.
“Good morning, sir,” she said, sounding unfriendly. “Do you know how fast you were traveling?”
Fang looked at the speedometer, which hadn’t moved since we’d pushed the car out into the darkness last night. “No,” he said truthfully.
“I tagged you at seventy miles an hour,” she said, pulling out a clipboard.
I let out an impressed whistle. “Excellent! I never thought it’d be that fast!”
Fang shot me a look and I put my hand over my mouth.
“Can I see your license, your registration, and your proof of insurance?” the trooper asked, all business.
We were toast. We’d have to split, which meant we would lose our little jigsaw car, she would see our wings, and she’d probably notify the web of authorities who would make our lives miserable. Miserabler.
“Hi,” said Angel from the backseat.
The trooper peered at her through the window. It was then that she seemed to notice how many of us there were, how we were all kids. She looked back at Fang, and this time she realized that he probably wasn’t old enough to have a license at all.
“Are you from here? Florida is really flat, huh?” Angel said, getting the trooper’s attention for a moment.
“Can you step out of the car, please, sir?” the trooper asked Fang.
“It sure is warm here, for fall,” Angel went on. “You could practically go swimming.”
Once again the trooper glanced at Angel, but this time something blunted her impulse to turn away. I didn’t dare look back at Angel. Once again I was confronted with the whole Angel-doing-something-bad-for-good-reasons thing, and I didn’t know what to do.
I decided to let her do it, then lecture her later. A win-win situation.
“We’re kind of in a hurry,” Angel said pleasantly.
“You’re in a hurry,” the trooper said. Her eyes were slightly vacant.
“Maybe you could just let us go,” Angel went on. “And sort of forget you ever saw us.”
“I could just let you go,” the trooper repeated. It was incredibly creepy.
“You never saw us or our car,” Angel said. “There’s a problem somewhere else, and you need to get there now.”
The trooper looked back at her cruiser. “I have to go,” she said. “There’s a problem.”
“All right,” said Angel. “Thanks.”
And we were on our way. Riding in a stolen car with a six-year-old who could control people’s minds. Not really the definition of comfortable.
We’d gone a couple miles when Angel spoke again. “I don’t know, guys,” she said. “I really think maybe I should be the leader.”
“I’ll be second-in-command,” Total offered.
“Oh yeah, you’d be so focused on the job.” Gazzy sneered. “Until a rabbit ran across your path.”
“Hey!” said Total, glaring at him.
“Guys,” I said tiredly. “Listen, Ange, it’s sweet of you to offer, but I’ve got the whole leader thing down, okay? You don’t have to worry about it.”
“Well, I guess,” Angel said, frowning. She didn’t sound 100 percent convinced.
What was going on with her?
120
I believe I’ve mentioned how freaking slow driving is, compared with flying. In the air there are no stoplights, and there’s surprisingly little traffic of other flying mutants. On the other hand, we were relatively hidden in a car.
“Well,” said Fang, looking at the huge gates in front of us.
“Yep,” I said.
After more than three hours of cautiously slow but still kidney-jarring travel and a pit stop for lunch, we had arrived at Itex headquarters. Through our sheer instinct and heightened powers of deduction, we had zeroed in on the place that might hold some answers for us.
Heightened powers of deduction meaning being able to read all the signs on the highway saying “Itex—Exit 398.”
Now we examined the tall iron gates, the professional landscaping.
“No barbed wire,” Fang muttered.
“No armed guards,” said Nudge. “That little guardhouse is cute, though.”
It seemed unusual, which set off blinking red lights in my brain. Was this where the world would get saved? Where my destiny would finally be played out?
Just then a smiling uniformed guard stepped out of the guardhouse. He had no gun or other weapon that we could see.
“Are you all here for the tour?” he asked pleasantly.
“Um, yes,” said Fang, his hands tight on the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry—the last one was at four,” the guard said. “But come back tomorrow—the tours are every hour on the hour, and they leave from the main lobby.” He pointed through the gates to one of the larger buildings.
“Um, okay,” said Fang, putting Jigsaw into reverse. “Thanks.”
We pulled away but kept the guard in our sight as long as we could. We didn’t see him speak to anyone or use his walkie-talkie or anything. It was weird. Once again I felt a heavy sense of unnamed dread settling on my shoulders. I wasn’t stupid. Those kids had been sent to us, to give us a message. To get us to Itex. Sooner or later we would find out what was planned for us here, and odds were that it would be nothing good.
My Voice had been quiet for a while, and I almost—almost—wanted it to speak up again, just to drop some clues about what we were doing here.
But there was no way I’d ask it.
121
Okay, Iggy, your turn,” I said, pressing a small bottle of shampoo into his hand. “And just because you can’t see is no excuse to not get all the grime off.”
Iggy took the shampoo, and Gazzy directed him toward the bathroom door.
My hair was still wet, dampening my T-shirt at the shoulders. We were ensconced in the lack of luxury of the Twilight Inn, which was the kind of place that had shady deals going on in all the rooms. We hadn’t had baths since we’d left Anne’s, and the Twilight Inn had the bonus of its own pay laundry room. I’d just gotten back with the last load of warm, dry, clean clothes, which I dumped on one of the double beds.
I felt almost human.
That was a joke—get it?
Nudge, Gazzy, Angel, and Total were on the other bed, watching TV. The kids all had their wings out, letting them dry. I sat down and shoved some laundry at Fang.
> “So, Itex,” he said, starting to fold and pack.
“Yep. Guess who made the laundry detergent? Guess what gas station we stopped at? Guess who made the soda you’re drinking?” Now that I was looking for it, I saw the Itex logo everywhere. It was unbelievable—the company seemed to touch every aspect of our lives. But we’d never thought about it before, never noticed it.
Wordlessly Fang held up a pair of Gazzy’s jeans. The back label said Itex.
“This is bad,” I said, keeping my voice down.
“You idiot!” Total shouted at the TV. “It’s the red one! The red one!”
“They’re everywhere, all right,” I said. “What’s worse is, the more I think about it, the more I remember them being everywhere our whole lives. I remember Angel drinking Itex formula from an Itex bottle, and wearing Itex diapers. It’s like they’ve been taking over the world without anyone noticing it.”
“Someone noticed it,” Fang said slowly, folding a shirt of Iggy’s. “Someone at the School noticed it at least fourteen years ago. And built you to try to stop them.”
There was my destiny again, slapping me in the face. “Built us.”
“Mostly you. I’m pretty sure the rest of us are redundant.” Fang sounded matter-of-fact, but the idea bothered me.
“You’re not redundant to me,” I said, stuffing a pair of shorts into a backpack.
Fang gave me one of his rare, quick smiles.
We turned the lights out early. I lay awake for a long time on the floor, thinking about Itex, the company that might blow up the world. My mission was to save the world. So I had to deal with Itex somehow, do something, find out something, stop them from doing something.
As a destiny, it was pretty fuzzy. It was like being told to climb Everest without a map and with no supplies. Plus be responsible for five other people. I felt overwhelmed and weirdly alone, though I was surrounded by my flock. I fell asleep hoping that maybe tomorrow I would be able to come up with something.
As it turned out, my “tomorrow” started in the pitch-darkness, with my hands and feet bound, and a strip of duct tape over my mouth.
122
Break free! My brain went from sleep to extreme, annihilating panic in an instant. I arched my back with all my strength, bucking myself off the floor. At the same time I tried yanking my hands and feet apart as hard as I could, only to find they wouldn’t budge. Think, Max, think! You can get out of this! They can’t get you this easily!
My scream was muffled by the duct tape. I heaved myself around, trying to knock into someone or break something to make some noise. I couldn’t believe the others were sleeping through this—usually the slightest sound woke any of us. Maybe there’s something wrong with them.
Two big, dark figures leaned over me, trying to gather me up, but I struggled against them with all my might. I managed to knee one in the stomach, but it didn’t do much. Then the other one simply sat on me, knocking every bit of breath out of my body. Wild-eyed, I sucked in air through my nose, already feeling like I was suffocating.
It had been a long time since I’d been so completely helpless, and it made me crazy. All thought fled my brain—I went into frenzied animal instinct, struggling for my life, willing to kill my captors, to do anything to stay alive.
I was hyperventilating, screaming silently, gouging ridges in my ankles and wrists where they were bound with plastic ties. And still I was helpless.
Still unable to stop the black hood from coming over my head, unable to not breathe the sickly sweet smell, unable to stop myself from letting go, releasing into a deep, cold blackness where there was no pain, no fear, only nothingness.
Oh yeah, and one other bad thing. Really bad, I think. I saw that other Max in the room when they kidnapped me.
And I think she stayed there with the flock.
123
After the Erasers had taken the inferior Max away from the motel, I quickly lay down in her spot and pulled the blanket over me. I closed my eyes, positive I wouldn’t sleep a wink.
I was so hyped up—it was all finally happening. No way would I sleep. . . . Out with the old Max, in with the new and improved Max. All according to plan.
“Wagh!” I woke up flailing, dreaming that I was being sponged by aliens.
My hand hit something furry and warm, and I felt the furriness jump away. Then I remembered: They had a dog. It must have been licking me. So gross.
I blinked slowly and looked around. The skeezy motel room looked even worse in the daylight than it had in the middle of the night.
“Max?” I looked up to see the little blond boy—Gasman, what a name—leaning over me.
“Uh, what?” I said.
“I’m hungry.”
Showtime. Now I would see how well I could play Maximum Ride. “Right,” I said, getting up. I was sore and stiff from sleeping on the floor. Now that I could see everyone close up, it was hard for me not to stare. They really were different from Erasers, from Ari. I didn’t know how they could stand themselves.
“So, breakfast,” I said, trying to remember the drill. “Does the, uh, dog need to go out?”
“We already went out,” said the littlest kid. Angel. She cocked her head to one side, looking at me, and I gave her a big smile. Little weirdo. I had no idea why Max stayed with these losers. She would do so much better on her own. Every one of them was a ball and chain, holding her down. She should have dumped them a long time ago. But that was one of her weaknesses: She needed an audience, a pep squad. Someone to hold her hand and tell her how fabulous she was.
Anyway. There was a tiny kitchenette in one corner of the room. I went over and put a frying pan on one of the hot plates. “Okay, how about some eggs?” I said, looking inside the minifridge.
“You’re going to cook?”
I turned around to see Fang, the older, dark-haired boy, looking at me.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“Not that hungry,” Gasman muttered.
I didn’t get it. The other older boy, the fair one, stood up.
“I’ll do it. Gaz, you pour juice. Nudge, get out the paper plates.”
“But you’re blind,” I said. He couldn’t cook. Or was this some kind of joke?
“You’re kidding! I am?” the guy—Iggy—said sarcastically. He brushed past me and turned on the hot plate. “Who wants scrambled?”
“Me,” said Nudge, raising her hand. She dug out some paper plates and put them on the dinky Formica table.
Huh. Maybe because I was the leader, I didn’t do stuff like cook. Well, I had to look busy, in charge.
“Nudge? Come over here and I’ll fix your hair.” I rummaged in a backpack for a brush. “We could do, like, ponytails or something, get it out of your eyes.”
Nudge—another dumb name—looked at me. “You want to fix my hair?”
“Yeah.” God, what did Max do all day? She didn’t cook, she didn’t fix people’s hair. Did she just sit on her butt barking orders all the time? “Oh, and hey—you—off the bed.” I snapped my fingers at the dog, who just looked at me.
“Why can’t he sit on the bed?” Angel asked.
“Because I said so,” I said, starting to brush Nudge’s hair.
There was silence, and I looked up to see the other four mutant kids looking at me. Well, not the blind one, though his face was turned toward me, which was creepy.
“What?” I asked.
124
The last thing I remembered was being kidnapped from the motel room. No, the very last thing I remembered was seeing that other Max in the room. What happened? Had she replaced me? Why?
At the moment, I didn’t know if I was awake or asleep, alive or dead. I blinked again and again, but there was complete and utter blackness: no shadows, no blurry forms, no pinprick of light. All of us except Iggy can see extremely well in the dark, so not being able to see anything at all made my blood run cold.
Was I blind now, like Iggy? Had they experimented on my eyes?
Wh
ere was I? I remembered being bound and gagged. I remembered passing out. Now I was here, but where “here” was I had no clue.
Where was the flock? None of them had woken up when I’d been taken. Had they been drugged? Something worse? Were they okay? I tried to sit up, but it was as if I was suspended somehow—I couldn’t put my feet down, couldn’t push off anything. But I felt wetness. I could touch my face. My hair was wet. I reached out with my hands and felt nothing. There was water or something all around me, but it wasn’t like ordinary water—I couldn’t sink.
I swallowed and blinked again, feeling myself start to panic. Where was my flock? Where was I? What was going on? Was I dead? If I was dead, I was going to be incredibly pissed because there was no way I could deal with this limitless nothingness for an hour, much less eternity. No one had said death would be so intensely boring.
My heart was beating fast, my breaths were quick and shallow, my skin was tingling because blood was rushing to my muscles and main organs: fight or flight. Which reminded me. I stretched out my wings and couldn’t feel a thing. Wildly I reached back with one hand. My heavy wing muscles, the thick ridges where they joined my shoulders, were there. I still had wings. I just couldn’t feel them.
Was I anesthetized? Was I having an operation? I tried as hard as I could to move, thrashing around in the blackness, but again felt nothing.
Very bad news.
Where the heck was I?
Try to calm down. Calm down. Get it together. If you’re dead, you’re dead, and there’s nothing you can do about it. If you’re not dead, you need to get it together so you can escape, rescue the others, open a can of whup-ass on whoever put you here. . . .
I was completely alone. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been completely alone. If I were in a hammock on a beach, sipping a drink with a little umbrella in it, and I knew the flock was safe and okay and everything was fine, I would be ecstatic. Being alone, off-duty, able to relax—it would be a dream come true.
Maximum Ride 02 Page 21
