Pretty sure that’s not how evolution works.
Fang stared at these little monsters with black, unblinking eyes. “Who did you say you were with again?”
“We serve the One Light,” Renny said. He lowered his gun and sat on the rock across from Fang.
So the Doomsday Group is still alive, still wreaking destruction.
When the flock had run across the cult a year ago, its glassy-eyed members had a mission of global genocide. The flock had done a lot to break the cult up, but obviously not enough.
Since then, apparently someone had taken things to the next level.
“We’re hoping the Remedy will turn us into Horsemen one day,” the yellow-haired boy continued chattily. “They say you just have to kill fifty survivors. I’m only at seven so far, but Chuck’s already up to like twenty.”
“Twenty-two,” the bigger kid corrected.
Fang had no doubt that number was an exaggeration, but from the naked meanness in Chuck’s eyes, Fang was sure he’d killed at least a couple of helpless souls.
Fifty people, Fang thought disgustedly. The Remedy was convincing kids all over the world to kill at least fifty innocent people each.
“That’s just a rumor,” he said. “The Remedy values intelligence above all in his elite squad.” He raised a skeptical eyebrow at Chuck. “Guess that means you boys are out of luck. Sorry.”
“I could do anything the Remedy asked me to do,” Chuck said hotly, his round cheeks flushing with color.
“Maybe you could train us,” Renny suggested eagerly. “Teach us what it takes to be an elite soldier.”
“Maybe so,” Fang said. “My services aren’t free, though. You got any food?”
Renny nodded and fished some jerky from his pocket.
“Okay, then.” Fang’s dark irises glittered with contempt. “Class is now in session.”
44
“FIRST LESSON: MURDERING people to purify the population isn’t evolution,” Fang explained in his patient teacher voice. “That’s genocide.”
Chuck squinted at him, obviously weighing Fang’s words against what he’d been taught. He wasn’t quite ready to challenge Fang, though—not without the support of the other kid. And Renny was looking up at Fang with open adoration, his shotgun leaning against the rock pile.
“And second…” Fang walked slowly around the boys, noting the positions of cacti in his path as he gathered strength to make his move. “If you like to pick on the weak, you should remember that there’s always someone stronger than you.”
Moving fast, Fang kicked Renny’s gun away, then snap-kicked the kid’s knees before he could make a move. He spun around, lunging toward Chuck, but the bigger kid had already flipped his weapon to his hip.
“These make us strong,” he said, curling his lip as he pointed it at Fang. “Freak.”
And then he pulled the trigger.
Fang launched himself into a somersault right as he heard the first loud pop-pop-pop and saw the dust fly at his feet.
Then, when he grimly expected the next volley of bullets to rip into his flesh, Fang heard Renny squeal and Chuck groan instead.
Turning, he saw a blur of motion: a sneaker driving into Renny’s gut, pigtails flying as legs propelled in a windmill toward Chuck’s red face. All of this was at lightning speed, too—by the time the shells from the first round hit the ground, the acrobatic avenger had both boys on the ground, curled up, gun free, and moaning.
“Star?” Fang said, recognizing the preppy blonde who’d been a member of his mutant gang when he’d broken off from the flock. Star had supernatural speed, sometimes moving too fast to be seen. And even in this stifling heat, she hadn’t broken a sweat.
“Think you can handle them now?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she sped off.
“As I was saying…” Fang looped the rifle slings around his neck. “There’s always going to be someone more skilled than you, more powerful than you. Now, march.”
Fang hauled both boys up by their shirt collars and prodded them in the back with a rifle. Ideally he’d love to pick them up and fly around with them until they barfed, but he wasn’t up to that. Not in the shape he was in. He would have to improvise.
There was a rough outcropping of rock, maybe about three feet wide, that leaned far over a canyon. It was a little canyon, only a couple of hundred feet deep, but the boys would certainly go splat if they took a misstep.
“Keep going,” he said mildly, edging them onto the outcropping.
Frowning, the blond kid turned around to protest, but Fang pointed a rifle at him.
Carefully the boys took tiny sidesteps, holding on to each other. The blood drained from their faces as Fang urged them farther and farther over the canyon.
“So what have we learned, kids?” Fang asked when the boys were only inches from the edge.
“That you’re a big jerk,” Renny said, though his voice quavered.
Fang laughed, then said, “No. We’ve learned that what goes around, comes around. We’ve learned that if you target the weak, you’ll be targeted by someone who sees you as weak. We’ve learned that guns are a no-no.” With that, Fang unlooped the straps and tossed the rifles over the ledge.
The boys cried out in unison, lunging and grasping at air as the rifles disappeared over the cliff.
“You might as well have killed us!” Chuck said, his bravado failing him. “How are we supposed to protect ourselves without guns? Or hunt?”
Fang almost felt a twinge of guilt for leaving them like this—the boys weren’t much older than Gazzy or Angel. The only difference was, they’d bragged about killing dozens of people.
That was enough of a difference for Fang.
“Whatever you do, don’t eat the purple flowers,” Fang advised, backing away. “They might smell nice, but trust me, that’s not the kind of trip you want to take.”
“You can’t just leave us here!” the kids wailed.
“Sure I can,” Fang said, praying he had enough energy for his takeoff.
“We’ll get eaten by bears or something!”
“Survival of the fittest,” Fang called over his shoulder. “Now that’s evolution. Class dismissed.” With a running jump, he threw himself out over the canyon, snapping his wings out and feeling grateful that even in their sorry state they could still support him. Now he just had to find Star again.
45
STAR WAS ALREADY more than five miles down the winding trail when Fang spotted her. He came to a somewhat clumsy landing right behind her and called her name, but she didn’t acknowledge him, and Fang felt anger flare in his chest.
Star had betrayed him, his gang, and the flock, and now she was ignoring him? Still, at this point, Fang badly needed any tips he could get. From anyone. He kicked up red dust as he trotted to keep up with what, for her, was no doubt a snail’s pace.
“I just wanted to say thanks,” he said, breathing heavily from the continued strain on his still-mending body.
“Yeah, well, I owed you one,” Star said curtly, and kept her gaze fixed straight ahead into the mountains. “Now we’re even.”
Star had a lot of pride, and that was probably about as close to an apology as Fang was going to get, but now that he was facing the girl who had caused him so much anguish, he couldn’t hide his disgust.
“Even?” he sneered. Star and her best friend Kate’s betrayals had resulted in the death of Maya, Max’s clone and another member of Fang’s gang. “I would say that you and Kate both are still pretty far from even.”
“Save the lecture,” Star said, whirling to face him. “I wasn’t trying to make up. I just thought it’d be pathetic to watch a former leader get slaughtered by stupid Doomsday kids.” She put her hands on her hips and smiled, her tone cutting. “I took pity on you, Fang. That’s all it was.”
“Well, you haven’t changed much,” Fang muttered.
Always a delight to be around.
In fact, Star had changed a lot. He’d know
n her as a rich boarding school priss who always had perfectly applied makeup, but now she was haggard, her cheeks sunken. The girl had always been rail thin, but now she was downright gaunt. Fang knew her metabolism ran as fast as the rest of her, which meant that if he was struggling to eat, she was, too.
Star turned from him, her pigtails swinging behind her, and took off again.
“Hey!” Fang yelled after her. This time, she was almost out of sight by the time he got the word out. “Do you want some food?”
Reappearing in just seconds, Star grabbed the jerky Fang held out and shoved it hungrily into her mouth. As hard as it was for Fang to watch his precious meal disappear, it was worth it if it would buy him some information.
“Have you seen any of these Horseman things?” he asked while she chewed. “What should I watch out for? What do they look like?”
“Like anyone,” Star said around a big bite, suddenly sounding a lot more amicable. “Like you. Like me.”
“What do you mean?”
“It depends on what they were before.” Star shrugged her slight shoulders. “That’s what I learned when Jeb promised me a way out. He tried to inject me with the serum, said it was just going to give me an upgrade.”
Blood rushed to Fang’s temples, and his whole body tensed.
“Relax, bird breath.” Star rolled her eyes, but she was clearly enjoying his discomfort. “You think I’d actually let them do that to me? I told them I didn’t need a Remedy, that I was perfect enough, thanks. Then I hightailed it outta that Siberian wasteland faster than you can say ‘Ah.’ ”
Siberia? “So Jeb’s the Remedy?” Fang felt sick. Once Jeb had been his surrogate father. Once Fang had thought he was capable of love and goodness. He knew better now, but was Jeb really capable of the ultimate act of evil?
“Jeb’s the manufacturer,” Star corrected. She propped her instep against a boulder and started to stretch, wincing. “I don’t know who’s pulling the strings at the top.”
Fang didn’t know whether to be relieved Jeb was just a pawn or frustrated that the Remedy’s identity was still a mystery. Either way, he had to find that lab.
“And this is all going down somewhere in Russia?”
Great. Another thing Angel can hold over us. Fang smiled to himself, though, feeling a surge of love for his bossy little sister.
Star nodded, massaging her knotted calf muscle. “That’s what I heard. I heard them call it Himmel.”
“Angel has people gathering in Russia already. I don’t know what she has planned, but I’ve got to get there a-sap. Join me?”
Star snapped her head up sharply at the suggestion. “Uh-uh. No way.” Fang could see the fear in her usually defiant ice-blue eyes. “Those people don’t want to make improvements—they want to replace all humankind with robots. I’m fine on my own.”
This time when she ran, she didn’t wait for him to catch up. The only evidence that she’d ever been there at all was the dust cloud disappearing over a distant ridge and the jerky wrapper on the ground at his feet.
46
BY MY CALCULATIONS, I was somewhere in the Mojave Desert, and I hadn’t seen another person in twenty-seven and a half days.
Of course I was keeping track—what the heck else was there to do?
After my last two encounters with people and what I’d overheard in New Jersey, I chose the harshest routes and flew high in the clouds, avoiding cities for fear of running into prowling raiders.
Then, before I knew it, I didn’t really have to try anymore. As far as I could tell, there wasn’t anyone else alive. At first it was a relief—didn’t have to avoid anyone—and then it became really bleak. And really lonesome.
I resorted to having long, drawn-out arguments with myself, like, for example, did a lizard or a tarantula have a higher protein content?
(Probably the tarantula.)
If a bird kid screams in an empty desert, does she still make a sound?
(All signs point to yes.)
Yeah, my brain was mostly fried.
So when I saw the human silhouette with a giant wingspan soaring between the distant mountains, I was pretty sure I was hallucinating.
I flew toward it anyway, keeping my eyes trained on the graceful shadow diving and climbing, gliding and dipping. As I got closer, the mirage didn’t disappear, but instead multiplied, and I found myself holding my breath.
I knew my flock’s flight patterns like I did my own name, and it clearly wasn’t Fang, or anyone in the flock.
But the five shapes ahead of me were definitely bird kids, and man, could they fly! Their wings were larger than mine, and their movements were so natural, so graceful, that you saw the bird in them before you noticed their human bodies.
I’d planned to approach cautiously, but several of them were already flying close and playfully cutting under my slipstream.
For the first time in months, I didn’t feel the weight in my tired wings. I just felt the pure joy of being able to freaking fly with others of my kind, without having them suddenly turn on me. Also, maybe they had food—they looked in good shape, from what I could glimpse.
“You guys are amazing!” I called out. They didn’t seem to hear me, though—the wind was probably too gusty.
Taking a risk, I followed them back to their homes, which were… uh, nests balancing between mountain ledges. Okay, that was unusual. I dropped down carefully, and several of them turned to stare at me with curiosity.
“Hey! I’m Max. Have you guys seen any other bird kids?” I asked. As more of them landed, I was struck by the way they knelt on the ground, folding their wings behind them. “I’m missing part of my flock. A guy named Fang—he’s dark, with dark wings… or a tall blind guy, or a shorter blond boy?”
Then it hit me: They looked like the flock—tall and lean human bodies with wings attached behind the shoulders—but they behaved… differently. As I spoke, they cocked their heads in sharp little movements and made clicking sounds in the back of their throats.
And… they were naked. Not naked as in acres of skin, but naked as in without clothes. These kids were covered with feathers all over—thick, downy feathers, everywhere but their heads.
Between my cracked lips and matted hair, I’d been feeling pretty feral, but these kids were straight-up wild. They flew like birds because they actually were more like birds than humans.
As the possibility of communication dwindled, the giddiness I’d felt at finding another flock seeped away, to be replaced by disappointment. And when I felt someone nuzzling against my shoulder, I jumped.
His light brown hair was curling and tousled, and his bright smile was punctuated by two perfect dimples. He was about my age, with unusually large eyes that were a gorgeous shade of amber. He was adorable. In an avian-mutant kind of way.
“And who are you?”
“Huryu!” he repeated gleefully. “Huryu, Huryu!” He was like a parrot latching on to a new word. So they really didn’t talk like people. My disappointment turned into crushing despair with no warning. The first people I’d seen in twenty-seven and a half days…
My throat closed up and my eyes started to sting. I couldn’t believe it. Would it kill the universe to cut me a break once in a while? Turning away, I wiped my eyes and wondered what the heck to do now. Then I felt something tugging at my feathers.
I whipped around. “What are you doing?”
“Huryu?” he asked, wide-eyed, and combed his fingers through my hair. Of course he hit snarls immediately, and with a look of concentration, he carefully picked at them, easing them loose, stroking them with his feathers. He was grooming me, making little cooing, chirruping sounds.
Instinctively I wanted to push him away, but I’d been on my own for so long… and he was kind of like me, my flock. With tears running down my face, I sat there and let myself be groomed.
47
THE SUN WENT down, but no one made a fire. Mostly in pairs, sometimes in small groups, these bird kids began curling up
in their nests, huddling together for warmth. I made camp a little ways away from them, on flatter ground, feeling desolate and somehow more alone than ever.
I was almost asleep when the velvety sound of sweeping feathers made me look up. It was my number one fan, and lo and behold, he came bearing gifts. He had brought me a seriously large rattlesnake, and as he fluttered down in front of me, he dropped it at my feet.
The snake had only been stunned, and it quickly wound itself into a deadly coil. Its tail rattled in warning—it was wide awake now, and definitely within striking distance.
“Jeezum!” I said, scrambling backward. “What are you doing?”
But he flashed his dimpled grin and picked the snake up by the end of its tail. He swung it overhead and whipped the head against the ground, then proudly presented it to me.
“Huryu!” he said softly, and patted the snake.
“Yeah, I get it…” I said. “Uh, good boy.”
Then he held the scaly body up to my lips, nodding eagerly. Did this count as flirting in the animal world?
“Cool. Let’s cook it first, though, okay?” After the raw fish, raw seagull, and raw termites, I was desperate to have something warm for once.
The bird kid looked shocked when I struck a flint and made a small fire, then appalled as I skinned and gutted the snake. He clearly thought those were the best parts, because he quickly gobbled them up as soon as I dropped them on the ground.
I skewered the long body on a stick, turning it over the fire, and I had to admit, it wasn’t bad and there was plenty of it. If you’re wondering, it tasted kind of like chicken.
My new pal ate with sharp little movements, jerking his head forward to peck off a chunk of meat, but he studied me the entire time with those wide eyes.
“What?” I said. “I’m sorry, but I don’t speak bird.”
Then, from who knows where, he took out a crumpled piece of paper and thrust it at me. And I suddenly understood why he was so drawn to me.
It was a folded, wrinkled page of magazine from about a year ago. I touched the picture with trembling fingertips, tracing over the faces: Nudge and Gazzy hamming it up for the camera, Angel looking sweet and defiant at the same time, Fang standing protectively just behind my shoulder.