“Will you join me in a song?” Beth asked over the frenzied roar. She stood center stage and began to sing. Gradually, the audience stopped chanting and began singing.
“I didn’t know where I was going
I didn’t know where I’d come from
But then one day I got the message
That I could save the world.
The One Light has shown me the way.
Because we’re Gen 77
The skies will be blue, the seas will be green
But to get there, the blood must flow red.
We will become less, we will become more
We’ll kill all the humans
And we’ll save the world.”
“Cheerful little ditty,” Fang said. Maya nodded solemnly as she sang along. Then a noise overhead made Fang look up, in time to see thousands of colorful flyers dropping out of a helicopter. One floated close to him and he snatched it out of the air.
“The Enhanced People’s Manifesto,” he read.
All around him, the crowd began chanting: “Save the planet! Kill the humans! Save the planet! Kill the humans!”
Onstage, Beth beamed lovingly.
49
BACK AT THE hotel, Fang pored over the manifesto.
“I can’t believe they’re saying this stuff in black and white,” Kate said, her eyes wide.
“Can’t they be arrested for this?” Holden asked.
Fang frowned. “I don’t know. They could say that it’s just talk, not an actual threat. There’s no evidence that they’re really prepared to do any of it.”
Maya waved the manifesto in the air. “Do we need more evidence than flyers saying they’re going to kill everyone? It’s all right here!”
Fang sighed. “I know.”
The manifesto fit on the front of a single sheet of paper, but it was a doozy. It stated that the Doomsday Group planned to take over several countries, kill their populations, and then repopulate them with enhanced people, the so-called Seventy-seventh Generation.
It said that the apocalypse was coming—no news there—and offered tips about what to do when it hit.
It talked about a dark period of chaos and peril that would give way to a paradise in which all enhanced people would live together in peace and harmony.
“I’m so sure,” Maya said. “Not unless everyone’s going to be tranquilized forever.”
“They just might be,” Fang cautioned, and she frowned. “If they’ve managed to brainwash this many people, then who knows? They could easily tranquilize whole populations.”
“Look at this,” Star said, pointing. “They really do mean only enhanced people. It says here that people who fly shouldn’t risk landing on top of tall buildings.”
“ ‘Those of you who might lay eggs,’ ” Kate read, “ ‘will need to prepare a safe incubation container. Go to our website for sources.’ Oh, my God. These people are crazy!”
“There were truckloads of those Gen 77 kids at the rally,” Ratchet said. “I’ve never seen so many freaks in one place.”
“Welcome to my world,” Fang said. “Okay. We need more info. Like, when is all this supposed to happen, for instance?”
Maya rested her head on her hand. “Do you think Armageddon can wait till morning? I’m wiped.”
Eyes closed, brown hair tousled around her shoulders, Maya looked more like Max than ever. But… Fang could now see minuscule differences: the way Maya tilted her head, the way her voice dropped instead of rising at the end of a question. True, Max and Maya were much more alike than they were different, but Fang was starting to think of Maya as truly being a unique person in and of herself, instead of as just a copy of Max. It was weird. Fang had loved Max for so long that it almost disturbed him to think about any other girl at all.
He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling bone tired and confused. He’d thought taking out this Doomsday Group would be a good mission, a worthwhile project for him and his gang. And he was right. But after today, he had to admit an uncomfortable truth: As much as he’d wanted to operate on his own, this mission was way too big for him and five new crew members, only one of whom had any real fighting experience. Preventing the destruction of whole populations of people was simply beyond the scope of his gang.
That left him just one option.
Fang opened his bleary eyes, scanning the room until he found the clock. Past midnight. Getting yelled at by Max would have to wait until morning.
50
I WOKE UP, feeling warm on one side and cold on the other. The warm side rested against Dylan, and the cold side faced the open desert, which was aglow in pink from the sunrise.
I decided to get the fire started for the others. I untangled myself from Dylan, feeling the usual embarrassment and confusion that I often had about him. But I’m great at not thinking about mushy stuff, so I pushed it out of my mind and scooted over to the fire. Automatically, I did a head count, like I’d done just about every day for as long as I can remember.
Gazzy, Nudge, Dylan, Angel, Iggy, Total… Ella?
No Ella.
I jumped to my feet and surveyed the area. No Ella. Her footsteps led away from us, but the desert wind was so efficient and the ground so hard and dry that her trail disappeared. I cursed under my breath.
“Max?” Angel said softly. “What’s this?” She pointed to the ground, where words had been scratched into the hard dirt:
I was meant to have wings.
Ella
“We should have hobbled her,” Total said, getting to his feet. “Or at least tied her shoelaces together.”
Then it hit me.
“Oh, my God! She’s going back to the facility!” I said. “Come on! If we hurry, maybe we’ll reach her before she finds those kids again—or before she gets lost and ends up frying herself in the desert. Let’s go!”
My team was mobilizing when my hip pocket vibrated. “This might be her!” I said, and flipped my phone open.
“Max?” said a voice, and my breath caught in my throat. “Don’t hang up!”
Numbly, I brought the phone down from my ear and closed it. Then I sat on a rock, my blood so cold that it moved sluggishly through my veins.
Nudge said, “Max?”
Dylan came and sat next to me and put his hand on my knee. I pushed it off. My phone rang again, the dull vibration sounding like a buzz saw in the silence.
“Max? Who is it?” Nudge asked. “What’s wrong?”
“My guess would be Fang,” Dylan said, his voice flat.
I looked up to see Nudge’s surprised face. Iggy, Angel, and Gazzy all looked at me sympathetically, like they expected me to wuss out.
My phone vibrated.
Gritting my teeth, I flipped it open.
“What,” I said tightly.
“Don’t hang up!” said Fang.
“In the middle of something here,” I said. “Is this important?”
“Only if you consider the end of the world important,” said Fang. “Which, I guess, usually you have.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Look, I’m in San Diego,” Fang said. “I need you guys to come here.”
My eyebrows shot up to my hairline. I still didn’t say anything.
Fang sighed. “Max. I know you’re mad. I know things are messed up between us. I know there’s no reason in the world for you to trust me or to bother coming here. And believe me, I’m not trying to mess with you or make you feel worse. I’m not playing games. But I’ve stumbled onto something huge. Something very bad. And I think we have only days to stop it. I wish I could do it by myself, but I can’t. I wish I didn’t have to ask you for help, but I do. Come to San Diego. Please.”
His voice was like salt being rubbed into my wounded heart. It literally made my pain worse. I couldn’t believe he was doing this. I tried to swallow, but I felt like I had a big rock in my throat.
I didn’t trust myself to speak. He was the only person in the world who could get to me this way. The
only one. With horror, I felt that hot, prickly feeling behind my eyes that signaled tears were coming.
I’d cried more in the past year than I had in all fourteen years before. I was tired of crying. Tired of crying over Fang.
Dylan shifted impatiently in front of me. I looked up at his face and was surprised to realize that he felt a confusing mix of anger and hurt and caution. I had the power to hurt Dylan’s feelings. And I felt like I had no power over Fang at all.
I swallowed. “Oh, yeah?” I said, and congratulated myself on how casual I sounded.
There was a pause. Fang was speechless. Good.
“Yes,” he said finally. “Will you come? Will you bring the flock? I’m at the Crescent Bay Hotel, on Market Street, downtown. I can explain everything when you get here.”
“We’re pretty busy,” I hedged.
“Max, the Doomsday Group has to be stopped!” Fang said forcefully.
I sat up straight, my jaw dropping. “The Doomsday Group?”
BOOK THREE
PARIS IS BURNING
51
THE FLOCK VOTED to go join Fang in San Diego rather than stay here to look for Ella. I did not exercise my executive veto. It made sense that we should try to cut off the head of the monster instead of attempting to rescue one small escaped mouse. But the thought of Ella going back to those weirdos, the thought of someone experimenting on her, or, worse, grafting wings on her, sickened me.
I cursed to myself the whole way to San Diego. We got there in the late afternoon. Fang had called again and said to meet him at the hotel restaurant. This news was met with loud cheers, since of course everyone was starving.
When we got there, I did something completely out of character: I stopped off at the ladies’ room, yanked a brush through my snarls, washed my hands and face, and put on a relatively clean shirt from my backpack. When I came out, six pairs of eyes were staring at me like I’d turned into a porcupine.
“What?” I snapped defensively.
“You look fine,” said Nudge, giving me a little smile.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said frostily.
I didn’t know what I expected to see—I guess the same old Fang I’d always known, the one with the scruffy hair and dark clothes. The one with the crooked smile and midnight eyes. The one who’d broken my heart so, so badly.
I scanned the restaurant quickly, doing an automatic three-sixty, in case, I don’t know, some Erasers or Flyboys or Dumb-bots hadn’t gotten the memo that they’d been retired. Instead, I saw a tall, dark figure standing up, looking right at me. I clenched my teeth, tried to look expressionless, and led the flock over.
Then I saw that he wasn’t alone. Four teenagers were sitting at his table, watching us alertly. These were probably members of the Fang Fan Club—
“Max,” Fang said, reaching a hand out to me, then changing his mind and letting it drop to his side. “Thanks for coming.” We looked into each other’s eyes for a long minute, as if trying to peer into each other’s brains, trying to read the subtext and the unspoken words. Then an irritated cough came from behind me, and Fang’s eyes shot over to Dylan. A tiny, almost imperceptible wrinkle appeared between Fang’s dark brows.
“Dylan,” he said evenly. “I see you’re still hanging around.”
“Yep,” Dylan said.
“Hey, guys,” Fang said to the rest of them, his face softening. “Thanks for coming.”
I felt the others hesitating, so I turned and forced a smile at Nudge and Angel. “It’s okay,” I said. “You can hug him, or whatever.”
Then I plopped down in an empty chair and studied his new group, our replacements. There was a tiny, blond, cold-looking girl; a really pretty Asian girl with hair I’d kill for—and I’m not even that girly; a guy with headphones and some sweet sunglasses; and a scrawny kid who looked friendly, if a little beat up. Only one person was missing.
“Max,” my voice said from behind me. I spun around only to see myself looking down at me with a slight sneer I knew all too well. “Gee, I haven’t seen you since you tried to kill me,” she said. Her smile was snarky, and I saw a couple of Fang’s gang straighten in their seats.
The not-too-surprising thing was that Dylan was studying Max II, then me, while Fang glared at Dylan. Max II kept her eyes locked on mine.
This was going to be interesting.
52
IF BY “INTERESTING” I meant uncomfortable, awkward, infuriating, and horrible… then, yes, it was going to be most interesting.
I met Max II’s eyes coolly. “I distinctly remember totally not trying to kill you.”
I just couldn’t believe it. I’d been so miserable since Fang had left, crying in the shower, crying up in trees, not sleeping, losing weight… so pathetic that they’d made me go to my mom’s house—and in the meantime, Fang had quickly replaced us, gotten a haircut, and bought some new clothes. He looked perfectly fine. I clenched my fists under the table. Plus, he’d totally replaced me with me. It was so unfair.
“Anyway,” I said. “Give me the scoop. And a menu.”
Over the next half hour, Fang told us all the stuff they’d found out about the Doomsday Group, about the rally and Beth and the One Light. We told them about how DG fever was sweeping Arizona, how fast it was spreading. I also told him about seeing the weird computer guy out in the middle of the desert. Fang frowned.
“So basically, these people are talking mass destruction,” said Dylan. “They’ve managed to alter who knows how many people”—he gestured to Fang’s gang—“and to brainwash even more. But where did they come from?”
“We don’t know,” Fang said curtly, not looking at him. “That’s what we’ve been saying.”
I saw Dylan’s jaw set. “Yeah? Is that what you’ve been saying? I must have missed that part. I thought you were still comparing pointless details.”
Hey, wait a minute! Digging Fang was supposed to be my job…
“We’re here to make a difference,” Dylan continned. “So let’s get to the point. The mission.”
Fang’s eyes flashed, and the energy that passed between him and Dylan could have made a hot dog sizzle. Gosh, guys are so cute, with that alpha male stuff. It’s adorable!
“I agree,” Max II jumped in, and somehow I felt like she was trespassing on my territory. “The question is, are we gonna join forces?”
“Yeah, Max,” I said snidely. “That’s a good idea. Put our two happy little families together. Then sit back and watch the fireworks.”
She looked at me matter-of-factly. “My name isn’t Max. It’s Maya.”
“Maya? You’re kidding, right?” Now, I’m not saying I’m not usually obnoxious, ’cause, actually, I admit that I usually am. But I don’t think I’m usually this obnoxious. At least, not to someone who wasn’t a whitecoat or some other misguided, controlling grown-up.
Max/Maya blushed, and I could tell she was clenching her fists under the table. “Shut up,” she said. “Who asked you?”
I stood up so fast my chair tipped backward. The other Max—I mean, Maya—stood up fast too. I was ready to punch someone’s lights out.
“Catfight!” The guy wearing the shades snickered, and the icy blond girl elbowed him in the ribs, but she was smiling.
Dylan pushed back his chair, watching us carefully. Gazzy paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, as if gauging how many bites he could take before a battle broke out.
“Max,” Fang said firmly, “we’re not going to do this. Not here, not now.”
Dylan frowned. “Don’t tell her what to do! This is all your fault anyway!”
Fang looked at Dylan as angrily as I looked at Maya.
“Come on, Max,” Fang said, throwing down his napkin. “Let’s take this outside. You and me. It’s time to settle this.”
“Fine,” I said, turning and stomping to the door. It was about time.
53
THE SMALL PARK next to the hotel was practically empty, and I quickly found a
place to take off. I soared into the sky, my heart racing with adrenaline. I was so hyped-up and flooded with emotion that it felt fantastic to burn off some energy, heat dissipating through my wings. My strong primary and secondary feathers made effortless adjustments as I banked and turned, and within a minute I was a couple thousand feet up in the sky, in the wild blue yonder, as they say, where there was no sound except the wind rushing past my ears, nothing in my way, nothing holding me back.
I didn’t even turn to see if Fang was following me. I figured he’d probably stayed behind with his new little wingless gang. I was so angry and hurt and upset that I didn’t know what to say to him. We’d had arguments before, of course, and knockdown, drag-out fights, but not too much recently. Not since we’d—
“So what’s the deal?” came Fang’s cross voice behind me.
I did a fast spin-brake, wheeled around, and faced him as we each rose up and down with the beat of our wings.
“You’re asking me?” I said, incredulous. “I thought you were running everything! You decided to leave. You decided I should come back. You decided that we should have this out. I’m just your audience!”
“You’ve never been an audience!” Fang snapped. “You know I did the right thing by leaving—you’re just too bullheaded to admit it! You know we need to work together to fight the Doomsday Group, but you’d rather flit around with your hurt feelings! And you know that you should have left Dylan behind in Arizona, but you’d rather throw him in my face!”
I was so stunned I couldn’t think straight. I so did not agree that Fang had done the right thing by leaving. I don’t believe that I’ve ever flitted anywhere in my life. And how was I supposed to leave Dylan anywhere? I didn’t control him, and he seemed to have a homing device locked on me anyway.
I finally closed my mouth before I started swallowing bugs. “Throw him in your face? He’s stuck to me like glue! How could I not bring him with me? Besides, you’re the one posting cutesy videos of you and my stand-in online! How is that not throwing her in my face?”