Angel drew in her breath so fast it sounded like a whistle. Nudge felt like her own breath had turned to a chunk of concrete in her throat, because she couldn't make a sound, couldn't move.
Hundreds of those robot things, the things that Iggy called Flyboys, were covering the sky above their canyon and coming in both ends. Nudge guessed the few that had survived the earlier fight had gone to get reinforcements. There must have been ten times as many this time.
The flock was trapped.
"Dinner's ready," said Angel. "And it's us."
21
"Up and away?" Iggy asked, and Gazzy answered, "No! They're above us too! Everywhere!"
Nudge's ears were filled with a horrible droning sound, like a thousand bees, and as the Flyboys dropped closer, it started to sound like chanting, like, "We are many! You cannot win!"
"We can sure as heck try!" Gazzy yelled. Leaning down, he grabbed a bunch of sticks from the fire and threw them into the air. Several of the Flyboys caught fire. Excellent. They were flammable!
Nudge raced over and grabbed some burning sticks too, but she held one too close and singed her hand. Still, she threw them into the air as hard as she could, watching in amazement as Flyboys burst into flame.
"Cool!" Gazzy grinned, forgetting to panic for a moment. "It's like they were dipped in gasoline!"
"They don't have minds," Angel said.
Nudge looked at her.
"They don't have minds," Angel explained again, upset. "I can't do anything."
"Well, I can bite 'em!" Total cried, racing in circles around their feet. "Let me at 'em! Let me get my fangs on 'em!" He made little leaps into the air, snapping his jaws.
"Total!" Angel said. "Be careful! Come back!"
"Let me teach 'em a lesson!" Total yelled.
The flock fought hard-of course. Max had taught them to fight, to never, ever give up. Unless running away made more sense, she'd always added.
Running away would have been so great, Nudge thought, but in this case there was nowhere to run. The canyon was clogged with Flyboys. They seemed to be mostly metal with a thin Eraser covering on the outside. The ones that had burned were all metal now, their skin and fur charred and shriveled against them, smelling god-awful.
Iggy threw every bomb he had (Nudge had no idea where he'd been hiding them, and she bet Max didn't know about them either), but all the bombs destroyed only fifteen or twenty Flyboys. Not enough, nowhere close to enough.
The flock was caught. Maybe if Max and Fang had been there, it would have taken the robots another minute or two. That's how bad it was, how hopeless.
Within twenty minutes, the flock had been duct-taped into unmoving bundles, even Total. Then Flyboys grabbed them and took to the air, flying like big toasters or something.
Nudge saw Iggy, Gazzy, Angel, and Total, their mouths taped shut like hers.
Don't worry. Angel sent the thought out to each of them. Don't worry. Max and Fang will come back. They'll find us. They'll be really mad too.
Nudge tried not to think, so Angel wouldn't be more scared, but she wasn't able to shut her brain down completely. So Angel might have felt her think: Not even Max and Fang can get us out of this. No one can. This is the end.
22
I went back to Fang the next morning and pretended that nothing had happened, that my little DNA-enhanced heart hadn't gone all aflutter and that I hadn't imagined myself in a hoopskirt, coming down the stairs at Tara like Scarlett O'Hara.
Nope. Not my style. Instead I showed up, skidding on my landing, sending grit and pebbles everywhere, and said, "Let's roll!"
Topping the list of thorns in my side for today were:
1) Weirdness between me and Fang
2) Worry about leaving the flock
3) Gnawing sense of pressure about getting back to the mission
4) The usuaclass="underline" food, shelter, safety, life expectancy, etc.
5) And then, of course, that whole actual saving-the-world thing
Gosh, it was hard to figure out what to worry about first. Everything wanting to contribute to my ulcer, Get in line and take a number!
"You're quiet." Fang broke into my thoughts. Below us, barren miles of mountains, plains, Indian reservations, and desert looked like wrinkles on a dirt-colored tablecloth.
I glanced at him. "Enjoy it while you can."
"Max." He waited till I looked at him again. "The one thing we have is each other. The one thing we can depend on, no matter what. We have to...talk about stuff."
I would pretty much rather have been torn apart by wild animals. "I liked it better when you didn't talk," I said. "I mean, there's a reason people don't look under rocks, you know?"
"Meaning what?" He sounded irritated. "We're going to pretend nothing's going on? That's stupid. The only way to deal with any of this is to get it out in the open."
Ugh. "Have you been watching Oprah again?"
Now I had made him mad, and he fell silent. I was relieved, but I knew this subject wasn't closed. Then my eyes registered the particular area we were flying over at high speed. It was a little hard to tell where Arizona left off and California began-you'd think they would just go ahead and paint those blue map lines everywhere, divvying up the states-but I recognized this place.
"Going down!" I announced, angling my body and tucking my wings behind me.
Fang followed me without comment. I could practically feel the strong "wring her neck" vibes coming from him, but it wasn't the first time he'd been really angry at me, and God knew it wouldn't be the last.
I landed at the edge of a woods near a dinky little Arizona town and started walking west. After two minutes I stopped, looking straight ahead at a small, tidy house surrounded by a somewhat scraggly yard.
Max, you're making a serious mistake, said the Voice. Get up and get out of here right now. Get back to your mission. I'm very serious about this.
I ignored it, emotions starting to swirl inside me.
"Where are we?" Fang whispered.
"At Ella's house," I said, hardly able to believe it myself. "And Dr. Martinez."
23
"If we can all fly, why are we in the back of a semi?" Iggy whispered.
He was rewarded by having one of the Flyboys kick him hard in the ribs. "Oof!"
Nudge winced, practically feeling his pain with him. Since he was blind, he couldn't see her face or the sympathy she was trying to send his way.
Everything hurt. Nudge didn't know how long they'd been lying on the floor in the back of this big truck, feeling every bump in the road. They'd been tied up for hours, and she couldn't feel her hands anymore. Every time the truck bounced, her shoulder or her hip banged against the hard floor, and she was sure she'd have humongous bruises. They all would.
After the Flyboys had grabbed them, they'd put cloth hoods over their heads. Nudge had smelled something sickly sweet. She'd grown dizzy and then passed out. She'd woken up in the truck, heading God knew where. Well, probably the School. Or the Institute.
Either way, it was going to be a long drive. Which meant she could lie here and dread what was coming minute after minute, hour after hour.
What was coming: a cage. Awful, scary, really painful experiments, usually involving needles. Nudge tried not to whimper, thinking about it. Chemical smells. Whitecoats. Flashing lights, scary sounds. Knowing it was happening to the rest of the flock. And no Max, no Fang.
And all of this, being bound, seeing the rest of her flock also bound and in pain, not knowing where Max and Fang were or even if they'd be able to find the flock again-all of that stuff wasn't even the worst part.
The worst part was that when she'd woken up, when she'd counted heads in the truck, there had been only three.
Angel was missing.
24
It wasn't as though they had saved my life or anything-Ella and Dr. Martinez. It was worse: They had shown me what life could be like in Normal Land. It had haunted me ever since I'd left them.