The wind was undoing my braid, and chunks of long hair whipped annoyingly across my face. Note to self: Cut hair short.
The Gasman and Iggy had been none-too-happy campers when we’d left, but I thought I’d made the right decision. That was the problem with this leader stuff. It didn’t come with an instruction manual. Given what Angel was facing, their being unhappy was the least of my concerns.
I glanced over at Fang and saw that his face looked serene, almost-well, not exactly happy, Fang’s never happy-but just really calm. I edged closer to him.
“On the plus side, flying is just really, really cool,” I said, and he looked at me with a half smile of understanding. His dark wings moved powerfully, glinting faintly purple in the sunlight. The wind was whistling in our ears; we could see everything for miles. It was like being God. I imagine.
Oh, yeah. “On the minus side, we’re mutant freaks who will never live a normal life.”
Fang shrugged. “Win some, lose some.”
I was too upset to laugh but gave a wry smile and looked over at Nudge. She was three years younger than us but was holding her own. Like all of us, she was tall for her age, and skinny, probably weighing no more than sixty pounds, thanks to her strong, light bird bones.
Ninety miles an hour wasn’t fast enough. The “scientists” at the School could do a lot of damage in seven hours. Even so, I knew we’d have to take a break before we got there. If we were going to hit the School, we’d need to be rested, not hungry.
I checked my watch-we’d been skyborne for a good two hours. I was already feeling empty, a little shaky. Flying burned energy like nothing else, and after a long flight, I felt like I could eat a cow. Fork optional. Even needing to get to Angel, we couldn’t forget the basic necessity of eating.
“Max?” Nudge’s big eyes, the same tawny russet as her wings, looked over at me. “I was thinking-”
Here we go.
“I mean, right before we left? I just looked at Jeb’s old files, you know? And some of them were about us. Or me. I saw my name on a page, my real name, Monique, and then, like, some people’s names, and then- Tipisco, Arizona. Tipisco is right on the Arizona-California border-I found it on the map. Real tiny town, it looked like. Anyway, I was thinking, none of us ever knew our real parents, and, you know, we’ve always wondered, or at least I mean I’ve always wondered, but I guess the rest of you have too, like, whether they gave me up voluntarily or whether-”
“Nudge. I know how you feel. But those names might not have anything to do with you. We don’t know if we were just test-tube babies or what. Please. Let’s focus on rescuing Angel.”
No response.
“Nudge?”
“Yeah, okay. I was just thinking.”
I knew this one was going to come back and bite me in the butt.
13
Her mouth was so dry. Her head ached-everything ached. Angel blinked several times, trying to wake up. Above her was a dark brown plastic roof. A cage. A dog crate. A Kanine Kamper, size medium. Fuzzy thoughts pushed at her brain as she struggled to a sitting position. She knew where she was-she would recognize that chemical, disinfectant smell anywhere. She was at the School.
New new ‘n’ wings and new new wings girl new
Quickly, Angel turned in the direction of the thoughts.
In a crate next to hers were two other children, younger than she. Their eyes, too big for their hungry faces, locked onto her.
“Hi,” Angel whispered. She didn’t feel any whitecoats around-just the scrambled, incoherent thoughts of these kids.
Mouth noise girl wings new new
The other children stared without answering. Trying to smile, Angel looked at them more closely. She thought they were both boys. One had rough, scaly skin-literally scaly, like a fish, but just in patches, not all over. Not a happy effect.
The other one just looked like… a mistake. He had extra fingers and toes, and hardly any neck. His eyes were huge and bulging, and the hair on his head was sparse. It made Angel’s heart hurt just to look at him.
“I’m Angel,” she whispered again. “Do you have names?”
Noise noise bad girl wings bad noise
The two boys looked afraid, and they turned from her and edged farther back in their cage.
Angel swallowed hard and was quiet. What had happened to Max and the others? Were they in cages too?
A door opened and footsteps sounded on the linoleum floor. Angel felt the caged boys trembling with dread, crazed, swirling thoughts of fear crashing in their brains. They huddled together at the back of their cage. But the two whitecoats stopped in front of Angel’s.
“Oh, my God- Harrison was right,” one whitecoat said, hunching down to stare at Angel through the grate. “They got her! Do you know how long I’ve wanted to get my hands on this one?” He turned excitedly to the other whitecoat. “Did you ever read the Director’s precept report about this recombinant group?”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure I believed it,” said the other whitecoat, a woman. “Are you saying this is Subject Eleven? This little girl?”
The first whitecoat rubbed his hands together with glee. “You’re looking at it.” He leaned forward to unhook her cage door. “Come on, little thing. You’re wanted in lab seven.” Oh, yes! Man, when I section herbrain…
Angel winced, then rough hands dragged her out.
Pathetic relief washed through the boys that it was she who was being taken and not them.
Angel didn’t blame them one bit.
14
“Max? I’m starving.”
I had been ignoring my own ferociously growling innards for half an hour. There was no way I was going to break first-and give Fang the satisfaction? I don’t think so. But I did have an obligation, as leader, to take care of Nudge. As much as I hated to stop and lose time, it was a reality.
“Okay, okay. We need food.” How’s that for incisive leadership? “Fang! We need to refuel. Ideas?”
Fang pondered. It always amazes me how he’s able to seem so calm at the absolute worst times. Sometimes he seems like a droid-or a drone. Fang of Nine. Fang2-D2.
Below us were mountains-the San Francisco Peaks, according to our map.
Our glances met-it was creepy how we knew what each other was thinking so much of the time. “Ski slopes,” I said, and he nodded. “Pre-season. Empty vacation houses.”
“Would they have food?” Nudge asked.
“Let’s go find out,” I said.
We flew in a big circle around the edge of the mountains. Small towns that came alive in winter dotted the foothills. I led us away from them, to where a few homes stood like train-set models among the trees. One house was apart from the others. No cars parked outside, no smoke coming from the chimney. Nobody home?
I banked and slowed, tucked my wings in a bit, and started to drop.
We landed a hundred yards away. As usual, after flying for hours, my legs felt a tad rubbery. I shook them out, then folded my warm wings in tight against my body.
Nudge and Fang did the same.
We crept quietly through the woods. No signs of life. The porch was covered with pine needles, the driveway hadn’t been used, the shrubbery was way overgrown.
I gave Nudge the thumbs-up, and she smiled, though, amazingly, she stayed quiet. Bless you, child.
A quick reconnaissance revealed no alarm system I could see. No red lights blinking inside for motion detectors. This wasn’t a big fancy house worth alarming, anyway. It was just a teeny-tiny vacation cottage.