He wasn’t sure if dawn had broken or not—ash blotted out the sun. Fang spread out his large black wings to their full span. He stretched the muscles, felt the power there. How could they fail him? He wasn’t sure—Angel hadn’t shown him that part.
So this was what it felt like. To be told you had terminal cancer. To be given a death sentence by a stone-faced judge. To know the plane was going down.
He couldn’t see his life as it had been, or the things he still needed to do. All he could focus on was that ground, coming up to meet him. Fast.
Fang doubled over as the vomit rose in his throat.
He staggered to a puddle of water, and his reflection shook him even more. His olive skin was ashen, his cheekbones sharper than ever. Fang had always excelled at being a shadow. Was he now becoming a ghost?
His hand smashed through the image as he splashed the polluted water on his face. Then he stood up and kicked ash over his vomit, disgusted with himself. The awful canned pasta they’d found in the cabin had been the best meal he’d had in weeks, and he couldn’t even keep it down.
Fang ran his fingers through his mop of wet hair and blew out a long breath. He was better than this. He had to be. He had to accept certain things as fact, now.
If he loved Max, he had to let her go.
He was going to die.
Okay.
Fang wasn’t going to cower from it—that wasn’t his style—but he wasn’t just going to wait for death, either. Instead of trying to shake the vision Angel had shown him, he began to focus on understanding it.
“This is your fate.”
In his mind’s eye, he saw the flakes gathering in his hair. He could feel them on his face, melting on his eyelashes. It wasn’t ash, like he’d first thought; it was snow. Angel hadn’t told him when this horrible thing would happen, but it was close to the end of May now, which meant winter was over in the Northern Hemisphere, where he was headed.
Maybe he had another year to live. Maybe he had several. Maybe he even had enough time to catch this Remedy maniac.
He’d start with the H-men, like his gut had first told him to. He’d start with California.
20
FANG FELT THE heaviness in his body as he flew away from the cabin and tried to focus on his breathing. It was impossible to shake the sense that each wing stroke carried him closer to his end, but he was determined to hold back his panic.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Keep going.
But when he inhaled deeply, he smelled something strange. The air carried smoke from the ash cloud and salt from the distant ocean, but there was something else, too—something sour and stinking.
Like death itself.
Fang dropped low over leafless trees and abandoned houses, scanning the valley for what he expected would be another mass grave.
Instead of the stillness of death, though, he detected movement. Even from above, he instantly recognized the hulking backs and long, thick necks hanging low.
Cryenas.
And they were swarming toward the small cabin he’d just left.
Fang wrenched his right wing downward sharply, starting to make a U-turn to warn the flock, but then paused. He hovered over the slinking shapes, considering.
Two, four… only ten of them. Fang chuckled darkly. Ten to one wasn’t exactly stellar odds, but he would deal with these monsters himself. It would be his parting gift to the flock.
After all, it wasn’t like the Cryenas were going to kill him. Not unless Angel was very wrong.
Fang brought his knees to his chest and then kicked sharply up at the sky, surrendering to his bird instincts. His wings folded tight against his back, his hands cut downward as he gained speed, and he zeroed in on his prey with calm precision as the ground rushed toward him.
The second before he smashed into the earth, Fang pulled up his head and grinned. “Gotcha.”
With all the momentum of his dive, he plowed into the leader of the pack, sending it knocking into the other Cryenas like a perfectly spun bowling ball.
It was almost cartoonish the way the stunned creatures were flung outward on impact, and Fang might’ve laughed, but he was pinned under one of them, and his mouth was full of dirt.
Fang reached his arms around the Cryena that was crushing him. The hairless skin moved over powerful muscles as the animal squirmed in his grasp, and Fang was disgusted to feel rough, scabby sores beneath his fingers. He hurled the creature off him and jumped to his feet.
The other Cryenas were already moving in on him now. Their tongues hung out of their mouths, already salivating as they started to circle him, herding him. Up close, the foul smell was overwhelming.
“You guys reek.” Fang hid his nose in the crook of his arm.
These Cryenas were in much rougher shape than the ones they’d seen in Sydney. Some of their spots seemed to be actually melting off, and their skin looked thin and grayish, almost as if they were rotting from the inside out.
Fang knew he’d have a much better shot striking from above, so he shook out his wings and leaped into the air, taunting his pursuers as he zigzagged just above their heads. They loped around him, trotting closer and moving away.
“Come on, you cowards!”
Each time he struck one on its humped back or flat head, four more would hurl themselves at him, nipping at him and whining as Fang rose again.
Blood was seeping from a dozen bites on his legs, but there was freedom in the pain. It meant he was still alive, still feeling, and he felt invincible.
Whatever they did to him, however hard they fought, in the end, he would win.
Then one jumped higher than the rest, and Fang stifled a scream as the skin on his left forearm was torn away. The pain was shocking, stunning, and as Fang dipped for just a moment, they pulled him down.
Their target felled, pack mentality kicked in, and the Cryenas swarmed all at once. Claws dug at his chest, teeth sank into his shoulder, and wet muzzles nuzzled in, ready to feast on his insides. The weight of all the bodies pushed in and in and in on him, and Fang would have gagged from the smell if his chest wasn’t being crushed.
You will not die today, Fang repeated to himself. Angel showed you where you would die, and it’s far from here. A world away from Max.
A tense grunt escaped him at the thought, and all the hurt and frustration and bitterness he felt rushed to the surface. Just knowing his fate was more painful than the most gruesome death he could imagine.
Maybe he should let these monsters just kill him now.
But then a strange light caught Fang’s eye—something slowly blinking green behind one of the Cryena’s ears. Frowning, Fang let his eyes trail to the scabs he felt at its sides.
And in the place where the tawny skin had torn, Fang saw the dull shine of metal poking through. And he understood: They were robots.
Someone sent them here. Someone is tracking the flock.
21
FANG LET OUT a violent roar of fury.
After all they had been through the last few months—tsunamis, volcanoes, and living on the edge of starvation—they were still being hunted.
So Fang reacted like a hunted animal, one that had been cornered and threatened and beaten down too many times, an animal that just needed a way out.
He went completely ballistic.
He seized the head of the biggest beast, wrenching it toward him. Other Cryenas scrambled away, but many jaws still lunged at him, refusing to abandon their meal.
Fang’s fingernails tore at spotted flesh, his arms found strength to break bones, a couple of well-placed kicks cracked their thick necks sideways, and his teeth gnashed at anything that would bleed. Fang had finally snapped, and he would not back down.
It was only when he paused for a few ragged breaths that he saw that most of the Cryenas were dead or had run away, and he had torn the pack leader almost completely apart.
Fang toed the body cautiously. It was clearly dead, but a high frenzied howl was coming from the fallen
Cryena.
Fang grimaced as he peeled back synthetic skin that clearly hadn’t been made for these harsh elements. Real animal or not, dissecting this creature that had been clawing hungrily at him moments before felt grotesque.
But Fang needed every puzzle piece he could find that would lead him toward justice. He didn’t have time for squeamishness. He had to know.
The Cryena’s insides were a complex labyrinth of lab-grown bones and tendons, with added wires, sensors, and metal upgrades. It wasn’t like anything he had seen before—even the Flyboys had been more mechanical and better designed.
The creature’s howl went on and on. It seemed to echo his own anguish, and Fang wanted more than anything to make it stop.
He’d learned all he could here, so he used a rock to crush the robotic skull. The green light stopped blinking as the scene finally settled into silence.
There would be more Cryenas, he was pretty certain of that. Worse things, too, probably. But not yet. Not today.
He had given the flock a parting gift, given them the thing he himself wanted most in the world: a little more time.
Fang gazed up toward the cottage. He saw the shadowy outline of Total’s solid little body, his tail wagging.
The Scottie dog barked, and Fang raised a hand in farewell.
22
I FELT THE cold at my back when I woke, and sensed the emptiness there even before I turned.
Fang was gone.
Footprints in the film of ash led away from our secluded spot. Away from me.
I flung myself up, stumbling between the eucalyptus trees. I got tangled in the grasses and whacked my shin on a low stump, but I finally made it back to the house.
“Fang?” I couldn’t help calling, but I knew it was pointless.
The front door banged on its hinges as I burst inside, tracking ash behind me. Iggy and Gazzy turned from where they knelt next to the coffee table.
“Is Fang here?” I asked.
“Haven’t seen him,” the Gasman said.
He couldn’t have left. He would’ve told me, right? He couldn’t be gone gone. Especially when Iggy and Gazzy didn’t even seem to care.
My gaze traveled to the coffee table, where they had their backpacks and their various bits and pieces of explosives and weapons spread out.
“What are you…” I started to ask, but then I understood: They don’t care if Fang’s gone because they’re getting ready to leave, too. For real.
I’d thought we’d talk over the fight in the morning, make up and tease one another—like the old days. But their tense shoulders and distant expressions said otherwise.
Uh-uh, my denial-loving brain insisted. This is not happening!
I picked up a couch cushion and threw it at the table like a Frisbee. Bottles and fuses went tumbling every which way.
“You guys are idiots!” I glowered at the boys. “You’re really going to just leave? What about our promise to stick together?”
Gazzy stared at the stained carpet guiltily. “What other choice do we have?”
“Just… trust the flock.” I pounded my fist into my palm. Part of me was imagining Fang’s face there. “Trust that we can do this together, like we always have. Is that so hard?”
“Trust the flock? Or you?” Iggy asked.
“We just want answers, Max,” Gazzy said. “And that doesn’t really seem like a priority for you.”
Iggy stood up. “We want to learn who’s still alive, but you’re too worried about who’s dead.”
Like my mom. I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I stormed out of the cabin, hoping to see Fang soaring back toward us, like he’d just gone out for a morning zip around the block. But no… things don’t work the way they used to in the pre-apocalyptic world. No Hollywood endings here.
I spotted Nudge and Total in the garden over by Akila’s grave. “Has anyone seen Fang?” I called out.
Nudge shook her head miserably. She looked like she’d been crying all night.
Iggy and Gazzy came out of the cabin wearing their backpacks.
“You’re really going, then?” I said angrily as they strode past. “That’s it?”
“Maybe you should start trusting us for a change,” Iggy said. “You ready, Gasman?”
Gazzy glanced up at the roof. Angel was balancing on top of the lightning rod, swaying with the wind. She didn’t make a move to come down.
“Let’s see if America is still the land of the free.” Gazzy arranged the pack straps on his shoulders, and both he and Iggy snapped open their wings.
Nudge walked over to join me. As we watched the boys take off, I shoved clenched fists deep into my pockets. Silent tears ran down Nudge’s face, and when Total put his paws against her legs, she bent down and held him tight.
Before I could even process the fact that I might never again see these kids I’d known since they were hatchlings, Total pulled away from Nudge and touched my hand with his wet nose.
“Fang left at dawn,” he said quietly. “I think he wanted me to tell you.”
“He—” I squeaked, but the words felt strangled in my throat. After… last night? I thought that had cemented things between us. Now it looked like it had done the opposite.
I’d known the truth, deep in my bones, even if I hadn’t wanted to believe it at first. Now it was real, verified: He wasn’t coming back, despite everything. Despite me. He was gone gone. Total’s sad eyes confirmed it.
Fang really was gone.
Forever.
23
I STARTED TO hyperventilate.
“You know that boy adores you, Max,” Total said.
“Stop it,” I said, covering my ears and squeezing my eyes shut tight.
Tears threatened to overflow, but I couldn’t give in to them, not yet. I was too furious—at Iggy and Gazzy for leaving, at Fang for not even bothering to say good-bye, at Angel for starting this whole thing.
I stomped across the yard and glared up at our little towheaded mystic. Angel was crouched like a gargoyle, her lips pursed into a pout.
“Are you happy with yourself?” I snarled. “We could’ve figured out a plan. A place to go together. Instead, you broke up the whole flock!”
She looked down at me sadly, unblinkingly, for a long time. Finally, she stepped off the lightning rod and fluttered down to the ground. “I should get going, too,” she said.
With those words, the reality finally hit home: I was going to lose her—again. As hard as I’d tried to keep us together through the years, she was leaving, along with everyone else—my mom, Ella, Dylan, Akila, Fang, Gazzy, Iggy…
The anger disappeared, and I reached out and clutched her to me in a fierce hug. What else could I do?
“Please,” I whispered. “You can’t go.”
Angel wrapped her arms around my neck and I pressed my face into her ashy, once-fluffy locks, remembering how I use to smooth her hair from her face when she was little, how I’d promised I would protect her. I imagined Angel out in that awful new world alone, without her flock. Without me.
I’m not your baby anymore, Max, her voice said in my head. I never really was.
She wriggled out of my grasp and turned to Nudge and Total. “Take care of each other, okay?”
Nudge nodded and hugged her tearfully, and Total licked her face, leaving odd clean streaks. Angel unfurled her wings, her primary feathers still tipped with crud from the ash and rain. But before she took off, she turned back to me.
“One day you’ll understand,” she said, her face an infuriating picture of Zen confidence. “You might even thank me.”
“I seriously doubt that,” I muttered.
I guess we can’t all be enlightened. Angel grinned. See you in Russia.
Moments later, I watched the little kid I’d raised and loved and butted heads with fly away from me. I watched her curls bouncing as she pushed off, waiting to see if she’d turn her head again, but she never did.
Instead, Angel’s white wings rose through t
he ash, and soon she was a speck I couldn’t tell apart from the rest of the sky.
24
I STOOD NEXT to the mound where we’d buried Akila, staring up at the churning sky and biting hard on the insides of my cheeks as I tried to keep from screaming.
They’ve left. They’ve really left.
Sure, we’d had our ups and downs. The boys had splintered off briefly before. Fang had gone off on his own more than once. Iggy had joined a cult. Nudge once wanted to cut off her wings. Gazzy almost blew up his sister, and Angel had always had a bit of a God complex.
But this was the first time that the flock had really, truly, broken up, and it was the worst possible timing. After the world ends, you really need someone you can count on, you know?
No problem. Just leave it to Numero Uno to pick up the pieces. As usual.
I went back into the house, past Nudge and Total, who were sitting dejectedly at the kitchen table.
“I used to think you couldn’t trust adults,” I announced, banging open the cupboards to search for anything we could use. “But really, you can’t trust anyone. Not kids, not mutants.”
My fingers trembled with rage. I swiped my arm across the shelf and Total whistled as dishes clattered to the floor. I flung jars of rotten Vegemite at the wall and stabbed a dull, useless knife into the counter. Nudge gasped.
“Nothing, nothing, nothing!” I bellowed.
I collapsed onto the couch and raked my hands back through my snarled hair, trying to get a grip on myself. “How am I going to do this alone? There’s no one left.”
“Gee, thanks, Maximum,” Total said pointedly, and strode out, his black nose pointed in the air.
“Come on,” I called. “I didn’t mean—”
“That we don’t count?” Nudge said coolly from the kitchen, where she was opening other cupboards. “Even though we’re the only ones who stayed with you?” Her cheek was healing, but there was still a huge, jaw-shaped wound, and it made her expression hard to read.