Nudge squeezed my hand. All of us had wanted real parents our whole life, and after a couple of disastrous false alarms, I’d actually found mine. And my mom was the best mom in the whole world, ever.
Though even I thought she was going a little far, calling us “innocent.” Maybe she didn’t know about the string of stolen cars or the vandalism of empty vacation homes.
But I digress.
An older woman in a navy suit leaned forward. “The witness protection program is limited in its scope and not intended to create a suitable environment for children. Which is why we were thinking more of a boarding-school situation, with appropriate guardians and teachers.” She smiled somewhat frostily. “It will be a most desirable situation, I assure you.”
“We’re not convinced that you understand the nature of these children,” said Jeb, speaking up for the first time. “We’re not sure why you believe yourselves to be the best judges of what would be best for them.”
“None of us have been associated, however peripherally, with Itex or its various research branches,” said a dark-haired woman. I thought Jeb flushed a little at that. “But we’ve made an extensive study of the situation, of the children, and of various rehabilitation systems that might be applicable here. Many of us are parents ourselves.”
“But you’re not their parents,” said my mom.
“With all due respect, Dr. Martinez, neither are you, nor is Jeb Batchelder,” said an older man wearing glasses. “We understand the genetic component, as it’s been explained to us. But the fact remains that these children have essentially grown up without any adult who could realistically be called a parental figure.”
Again Jeb flushed, and I wondered how guilty he felt about letting the flock down. I hoped it was a lot. I felt my mom tense beside me, and all of a sudden I’d had enough.
Max, I hate this. Can we get out of here?
Angel’s voice filtered into my head. I turned to see her big blue eyes pleading with me. Over her head, Fang’s eyes met mine, and I gave a barely perceptible nod. As usual, he and I were on the same page without even speaking.
I raised my hand, taking everyone by surprise. You’d think they would have been used to it by now. “I need to say something.”
15
“YOU GUYS ARE TALKING about us like we’re not even here. You’re sitting there deciding our fate without even asking us,” I said.
“Maximum, while children are often encouraged to express a preference, typically, responsible adults determine what’s best for them. Children just don’t have the life experience or education to understand the big picture.” The silver-haired senator gave me a reassuring smile, which, call me paranoid, I didn’t find at all reassuring.
A teen magazine would have encouraged me to get in touch with my inner feelings. So I searched deep within myself and realized that my inner feelings were telling me to punch all of them in the face. Which is why teen magazines just don’t seem to apply to my life.
“Life experience?” I repeated tightly. “Big picture? I’ve had more life experience in fourteen years than you’ve had in — what are you, like, a hundred?”
The senator’s face started turning pink.
“You’re the ones who don’t have the life experience,” I said. “Have you ever woken up with your mouth duct-taped shut, not knowing where you are or where your family is? Are you afraid of everything and everyone? Have you foraged for food in Dumpsters? Do you sleep with one eye open because at any second someone might try to kill you? Have you ever opened a pizza box only to find a bomb? You guys don’t have any idea.”
Some of the committee members looked horrified, and I wondered just how complete their files were.
“Angel’s only six,” I went on. “But ten bucks says she’s been in more fights to the death than any of you. You guys have unreal ideas about us that you wish were true. The kids you designed this school for are probably clean, polite, grateful, agreeable. Sadly, that isn’t us.”
The flock stood up around me, and I guessed they were all making their toughest faces, the ones that crack me up ’cause they’re so cute. But this committee wouldn’t know that.
“We don’t need to be ‘rehabilitated,’ ” I went on. “We’re survivors, and that pretty much cancels out good manners or patience or a burning desire to please. Your fancy school, your plans — none of that has anything to do with us, the real us. You go on and have fun spinning your wheels. But include us out.”
I rose and stalked past the line of grown-ups trying to figure out snappy comebacks. Good luck with that, I thought. I burst out the heavy door, ready to slug anyone who tried to stop me. But no one did, and I glanced back quickly to see the flock, Total, my mom, and Jeb all hurrying behind me. At the end of the hallway was another conference room. It had huge windows, some of which were cranked open for cleaning or something.
Without thinking, without planning — in other words, in true Max style — I gave my mom a fast, hard hug, put on my jacket, then stepped to the window and jumped out. I thought I heard her gasp, but the sound was torn away by the air rushing past me as I snapped my wings open. Then I was aloft, held securely by the air, supported and cradled by the atmosphere. I couldn’t help smiling, pulling cold air into my lungs, feeling free.
“Where are we going, Max?” Gazzy called. My flock was sailing powerfully alongside me, all looking as happy and relieved as I felt.
“Does it matter?” I called back, and he shook his head.
“Didn’t think so,” I said to myself, and surged upward.
16
“LOOK, THE PENTAGON!” Gazzy said suddenly, pointing. He wheeled into a tight left turn and headed for it. “I always wanted to see it!”
“Me too!” said Iggy sarcastically, already flying after Gazzy.
“Yeah, you can touch it and feel that it’s white,” I said.
The rest of us turned to follow them, and it felt good to see how happy everyone was to be flying.
“Dive-bomb!” Gazzy cried, tucking in his wings and angling downward toward the Pentagon.
“No, Gazzy, don’t!” I yelled after him. “It’s a government building! They’re even more paranoid than we are!”
Cackling maniacally, Gazzy swooped down to within fifty feet of the Pentagon’s roof, then tucked into a fast flip and aimed upward again. The six of us soared and tilted and raced, remembering the tricks we’d learned from the hawks and the bats, performing split-second formations and upside-down turns like the kind swimmers make at the end of the pool.
“Okay,” I called finally. “Let’s head out —”
The air was filled with a roar, and I turned my head to see two jets streaking toward us, their pointy noses looking mean.
“What’s wrong with them?” Nudge cried, rushing closer to me.
“We violated the Pentagon’s airspace,” Fang guessed as the jets roared closer at incredible speed.
Total, in Fang’s arms, nodded. “I should have stopped you! I, at least, should have known better!”
“Let’s get out of here!” I yelled, and we turned as fast as we could, heading away from the Pentagon. I didn’t know how determined those jets were, and I didn’t know who had scrambled them. Had they been sent automatically to eliminate anything over the Pentagon’s airspace? Had the Surprise Mutant Solution Committee not taken no for an answer?
We weren’t going to hang around to find out.
“Into the trees!” I called, pointing to where several acres of trees made a weensy forest. By tucking our wings tightly back, we lost altitude like feathery rocks. I spotted several openings among the treetops, and we sank into them, immediately turning sideways and opening our wings so we wouldn’t hit the ground. We flew sideways for a while, slipping between tree trunks, knowing we were invisible to the jets.
Unless they had infrared sensors. In which case we were sunk.
“Whee-hah!” Gazzy shouted. It was much harder to fly vertically like this, but we’d all perfected
the technique in the past year. Yes, jets can fly sideways too, and faster than we can, I have to admit. But they can’t weave in and out of trees, now, can they? Or turn practically on dimes?
No. If they try, they end up exploding in impressive fireballs.
These woods were so small that we had to keep circling and cutting back across them, which we did for about twenty minutes. Finally the noise of the jets lessened, and then it faded altogether. We cautiously left the woods and came to a landing nearby.
“That was awesome!” yelled Gazzy, holding up his hand.
Iggy slapped him a high five (I don’t know how he does that — he never misses), and they both cackled in triumph.
“Awesome, and yet stupid,” I said, ever the voice of reason. “Let’s keep under the radar from now on, guys.”
“We were under the radar,” Gazzy argued. “Totally under the radar.”
“I meant metaphorically,” I said. “Both under the actual radar and also just low profile, discreet, secret.”
“Uh-huh,” Gazzy said in a tone that told me he hadn’t heard a word I had said. “That was so awesome!”
Reason number 52 why Gazzy isn’t the flock leader.
17
AND JUST LIKE THAT, we were free again. Or as free as six homeless mutants could be. In three hours we were eight thousand feet over the Pocono Mountains, looking for a place to hang. Once again, a state park saved us. A big patch of green beckoned, and we slipped down through the trees as silently as we could, not far from the park entrance. The sun was setting, and we needed to find a good place to sleep, but there was something I had to do first.
I called my mom to let her know we were okay. Something I’d never, ever had to do before in my life.
“Oh, Max — are you all right?” She had answered her cell phone practically before it rang.
“We’re good,” I said. A pang inside me meant that I wished I could be with her but knew I couldn’t. I could never be a “home at five” kind of daughter. “They were just creeping me out.”
“I know,” my mom said. “They seem so arrogant. I really don’t think they have a good plan for you guys.” She paused, and I guessed she was biting her lip, trying not to ask where we were or where we were headed. Which was good, because as usual, I was operating without a game plan.
“No, me neither,” I said. “Give Ella a hug for me, okay?”
“Okay, honey,” she said. “Listen — Jeb is here and he wants to talk to you.”
I made an “ick” face, and Fang raised his eyebrows at me.
“Max?”
“Yes,” I said reluctantly.
“You’re safe?” His voice sounded warm and dad-like.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“So you’re not the Voice in my head?” I asked. “I saw you be the Voice.”
“I can do the Voice, but I’m not the Voice,” said Jeb. “That’s all part of the larger picture.”
Great. Another puzzle. Good thing I got my kicks out of not understanding my entire life.
“Whatever,” I said, knowing that made him crazy.
“Listen, Max,” Jeb said. “Dr. Martinez — your mom — and I want you to know that we trust you. Your instincts have served you well so far, and kept you and the flock alive. We feel that you’ll do the right thing, whether you know you are or not.”
Hmm. Compliments always made me suspicious.
“Oh, yeah?” I said.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “You’re the right person to lead the flock. It’s what you were created to do. You’re doing a terrific job at it, finding your own way. We trust you to do the right thing now.”
If I could have believed him, it would have warmed the cockles of my little heart. All I had to do was decide to believe him, take him at face value. After all, my mom was right there, hearing him, and I did trust her.
“Huh,” I said.
There was a pause, as if he’d been hoping for more.
“Anyway, take care, Max,” he said finally. “Call your mom or me when you get a chance. We’ll be working on things from this end.”
“Working on what?” I asked.
“Oops, we better go,” Jeb said. “Don’t want to stay on the phone too long, in case someone’s tracing it. Give my love to the flock.”
The phone clicked and went dead.
I looked up. Fang was watching me. We still hadn’t talked about the Incident of the previous night. Nudge was shifting from one foot to another, the way she did when she got hungry. Total was taking a potty break in the bushes. Everyone looked tired, and we still needed to rustle up food.
Jeb had said that he and my mom trusted me and thought I was doing a good job. He’d said to trust my instincts.
My instincts asked me if he was playing another angle.
18
AFTER A LAME DINNER of scavenged food, we settled onto various branches of the tallest trees we could find. Did we sleep in trees a lot? Yes. Had we ever fallen out of a tree while asleep? As amusing as that would have been, no.
I was exhausted, still pretty hungry, and clueless about what the next day would bring. But I double-checked my flock before I let myself relax. Angel and Total were snuggled in the deep vee of an enormous oak. Iggy and Gazzy were close together in the same tree. Nudge was stretched out along a thick branch, one arm hanging down. Fang was —
I looked. He’d been right there a second ago. Now, no Fang.
“Where’s Fang?” I tried to keep alarm out of my voice — don’t panic till you need to — but I’m so not into the whole missing-flock thing.
Angel and Gazzy looked around, and Fang said, “I’m right here,” sounding surprised. And there he was, straddling a branch with his back against the trunk.
I blinked. “I looked — you weren’t there.”
“Yes, I was,” he said, eyebrows raised.
“No,” said Nudge. “I looked for you too. Were you behind the tree?”
“I was right here!” Fang insisted, waving his arms.
“I didn’t see you either, man,” Iggy said with a straight face.
I rolled my eyes at him, then said, “I’m rolling my eyes, Iggy.”
“Well, I was here the whole time,” said Fang, shrugging.
Five minutes later, he disappeared again.
“Fang!” I said, peering all around. True, it was dark, but thanks to raptor vision, we can all see perfectly well at night. Every other flock member was there, clear as day.
“I’m here,” said Fang.
There was nothing where his voice was coming from.
“Behind the tree?” I was starting to get irritated.
“Are you blind?” Fang demanded. “I’m right here!”
And there he was. Complete with a brand-new skill. Let’s hear it for spontaneous mutation, folks!
19
NO, FANG COULD NOT actually make himself invisible. It was more like his natural stillness and darkness just sort of made him fade into the background till he kind of disappeared. As soon as he moved again, he was visible. If he stayed still, we could search for an hour, but our eyes would skate right over him.
“I want to do it too!” said Gazzy, sitting very, very quietly, completely motionless.
“Nope,” said Nudge, shaking her head. “You stand out like a fart in church.”
“Appropriately enough,” I muttered.
“What about me?” Iggy asked. He folded his wings in and went statue still.
“No, you’re visible,” I told him.
“Am not!” Iggy said.
I hurled a big prickly pinecone at him and heard it thunk hard against his chest. He howled in pain.
“Could I do that if I couldn’t see you?” I pointed out.
“Seriously, you can’t see me?” Fang sounded pleased.
“Not when you’re still and quiet,” I admitted.
He smiled big, and it was horrible, seeing only a mouthful of white teeth against the rough tree bark. He shook hi
s head, and bam, there he was, all of him. I started to get an idea of how incredibly annoying he could make himself with this skill.
“Oh, guys, I had a couple thoughts I wanted to go over with you,” I said, suddenly remembering. I heard Total mutter something, but I paid no attention.
Iggy pretended to snore loudly. I threw another pinecone at him.
“Quit throwing things at me!” He rubbed his arm.
“Glad you could join us,” I said. “Now, listen up. We’re on the road again. Erasers don’t seem to exist anymore, and we haven’t seen any Flyboys. But you know whatever’s left of Itex is regrouping and gearing up for the next war. Plus, someone tried to explode us. So, a couple guidelines: We need to move every other day, keep on the go. No staying in one place more than forty-eight hours.”
“Ugh,” Total said. He was curled up in Angel’s lap.
“We will not make friends with humans until after the apocalypse,” I went on, ticking items off on my fingers.
“What’s the apocalypse?” Gazzy asked.
“Basically, the complete destruction of the world as we know it. And we will not trust humans, even after the apocalypse.”
But Max, you’re mostly human, said the Voice.
So were Erasers, I shot back. Besides, you know what I mean.
“However,” I went on, “I do want us to try to recognize the good in things. Like my mom. And Ella. And chocolate-chip cookies. It just seems like we shouldn’t let our enemies make us all bitter and full of hate and stuff.”
I waited for everyone to give me a hard time about being all Hallmarky.
“Oh, yeah, ix-nay on the ate-hay,” said Fang.
“Who are you, and what have you done with the real Max?” Iggy asked.
“Ha ha. So I think we should take turns naming three good things that have happened to us. Who wants to start?” I said brightly.
Silence.
“Nudge?”
“Um,” she said.
“Well, dinner was delicious,” said Total. I gave him a Look. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Um, well, no one tried to kill us today.”
The Final Warning Page 4
