The Angel Experiment Part 8

33.

Eighty years ago, loggers had used a makeshift cabin nearby as a base during logging season. Abandoned for the last thirty years, it was practically in ruins. Which made it an especially good clubhouse for the flock.

"So Phase One is complete," said Iggy, sitting in a broken plastic lawn chair. He sniffed the air. "We haven't been here in ages."

"Uh-uh," said the Gasman, glancing around. "In case you're wondering, it's still a dump."

"It's always been a dump," Iggy said. "That's why we like it."

"Man, I can't get over it-that tarp full of oil so totally wiped the Hummer out," the Gasman said. "It was kind of-scary. To really do it."

Iggy opened the backpack and took out Big Boy, running his sensitive fingers over the clock duct-taped to the explosive package.

"We have to eliminate the Erasers," he murmured. "So they can't ever hurt us again."

"So they can't ever take Angel again," the Gasman said, his eyes narrowing. "I say we bomb the chopper."

Iggy nodded and stood up. "Yeah. Listen, let's get out of here, get back home, make more plans."

In the next instant, the faintest vibration of the floorboards made Iggy freeze. The Gasman quickly looked at him, saw Iggy's sightless eyes flick to and fro.

"Did you hear?" the Gasman whispered, and Iggy nodded, holding up his hand. "Maybe a racc.o.o.n-"

"Not in the daytime," Iggy barely mouthed back.

A slight scratching on the door made the Gasman's blood turn to ice in his veins. Surely it was just an animal, a squirrel or somethi- "Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in." The whispered voice, serene and angelic, seemed to float through the cracks in the door like poisonous smoke. It was an Eraser's voice, a voice that could ask you to jump off a cliff and you'd do it.

Heart pounding, the Gasman quickly scanned the room. The door. Two windows, one in the main room and a tiny one in the bathroom. He doubted he could fit through the one in the bathroom, much less Iggy.

The Eraser scratched at the door again, and the hairs on the back of the Gasman's neck stood up. Okay, the window in here, then. He began to edge his way over to it, knowing that Iggy would be able to follow the almost imperceptible sound.

Crash! The door burst open, splintered wood flying through the air like darts. The door burst open, splintered wood flying through the air like darts.

"Eight o'clock!" the Gasman whispered, telling Iggy where the window was as his brain registered the hulking Eraser filling the doorway. His muscles tensed for the leap through the window-but its light was suddenly blocked by a huge, grinning head.

"Hey, piggy, piggy, piggy," a second Eraser taunted through the dirt-clouded gla.s.s.

Years of Max-enforced training kicked in as adrenaline sped through the Gasman's body. Door blocked. Window blocked. They were surrounded, with no clean escape available. It was going to be a fight, he realized, already preparing himself.

More than likely a fight to the death.

34.

Nudge woke up four times before she finally rolled over and pried her eyes open.

It was barely dawn. Fang was gone. First Angel, then Max-now Fang.

Gone! Nudge looked around, crawling to the opening of the cave on her hands and knees. There's nothing like panic to really wake you up, get all your senses going. Nudge felt keenly alert, frightened, too many thoughts starting to rush in her brain.

Movement caught her eye, and her head swiveled in line with a loose formation of hawks wheeling through the crisp, white blue sky. They were so beautiful, powerful, graceful, completely one with the sky and the earth and the rough cliffs.

One of them was Fang.

Nudge stood quickly, almost b.u.mping her head on the low ceiling of the cave. Without hesitation, she leaped off the cliff edge, out into the sky. Her wings unfolded and caught the wind like sails, and suddenly she was a small brown boat soaring across an endless blue sea.

She approached the hawks, and after hard, glinting glances at her, they moved so she could join them. Fang was watching her, and Nudge was surprised by his face-how alive he looked, how . . . untight. Fang always looked very tight, somehow, taut, like the string on a bow. Now he looked loose and free and alive.

"Morning," he said.

"I'm hungry," said Nudge.

He nodded. "Town about three minutes away. Follow me." He tilted his body in a new way that led him up and away without moving his wings. It was cool, like a plane. Nudge tried it, but it didn't work as well for her. She would practice.

Below them was a thin two-lane highway, clotted with a last few shops and businesses before the road wound away into the desert. Fang dipped his head: A fast-food place had a large Dumpster out back. Even from up this high, Nudge could see a worker tossing cardboard boxes of stuff into it, getting ready for a new day.

They circled a couple times till they were sure the worker wasn't coming out again, then dropped quickly, like bombs, tucking their wings in tight with just the feather tips guiding their descent. Thirty feet above the Dumpster, they blew their wings out again, braking sharply, then they landed, almost silently, on the metal edge of the Dumpster.

"Nirvana," Fang said, pawing through food that was still good but not sellable. "Burger?"

Nudge thought, then shook her head. "I don't know-after watching the hawks shredding little animals-oh, but look, here's a couple salads. And some apple pies! Bonus!"

They tightened the drawstrings of their windbreakers around their waists. Then, working fast, they started stuffing food inside their jackets, anything that would travel. Three minutes after they'd landed, they were airborne again, lumpy and smiling.

It was amazing how much better Nudge felt after eating. She sighed and sat cross-legged in the cave entrance, watching the hawks fly.

Fang finished his fifth thin hamburger patty and wiped his fingers on his jeans. "You know, I think the way they swoop and stuff is like a message to the other hawks," he said. "Like they're telling them where there's game or where they'll be or something. I haven't figured it out yet. But I will."

"Oh." Nudge sat back on her heels and spread her wings out, enjoying the feel of the sun warming her feathers. She tried to be quiet and not disturb Fang, but after five minutes she was close to meltdown.

"Fang? We've just got to go find Max," she said. "Or should we go on and try to find Angel?"

Fang pulled his attention away from the hawks with difficulty. "We're going to circle back, look for Max," he said. "She must have-run into something."

Nudge nodded solemnly, unable to define what kind of something would have kept Max from them. She didn't want to think about it.

Fang stood, tall and dark against the weathered sandstone of the rock cliff. He looked down at her, his face calm and patient, his eyes reflecting no light whatsoever. "You ready?"

Nudge jumped to her feet, brushing sand off her b.u.t.t. "Absolutely. Um, where do you think we should-"

But Fang was already gone, s.n.a.t.c.hed away by the wind, borne upward by air rising from the canyon below.

Nudge took a small running leap off the cliff after him.

"Tarzan!" she yelled. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

35.

I woke up warm, dry, bandaged, and safe.

I felt like death.

As always, as soon as I was conscious, I panicked for a second, not knowing where I was. My brain anxiously registered flowered wallpaper. A soft, warm bed that smelled like laundry softener. I looked down. I was wearing a huge T-shirt that had a cartoon character on it, one I didn't know.

I was at Ella's house. I was supposed to be rescuing Angel-if she was even still alive. Fang and Nudge were probably sticking pins in a Max doll by now. I didn't blame them.

Now that I was awake, the pain in my shoulder and wing hit me all over again, a stinging ache that radiated out like a starburst. Ugh. I remembered once I'd dislocated my shoulder, sparring with Fang. It had hurt so bad, and I had staggered around clutching my shoulder and trying not to cry. Jeb had calmed me down, talking to me, taking my mind off it, and then, when I least expected it, he had popped it right back into place. Instantly, all the pain was gone. He'd smiled and stroked my sweaty hair off my forehead and gotten me some lemonade. And I'd thought, This is what a dad would do. This is better than what a dad would do. This is what a dad would do. This is better than what a dad would do.

I still missed Jeb so much it made my throat close.

Suddenly, I froze, because my bedroom door was opening very, very slowly and quietly.

Run! my mind screamed as my hands curled into claws against the sheets. my mind screamed as my hands curled into claws against the sheets. Fly! Fly!

Ella's brown eyes, curious and eager, peered around the door. She spoke softly over her shoulder. "I think she's awake."

Ella's mom appeared. "Morning, Max. You hungry? Do you like pancakes?"

"And little breakfast sausages?" Ella added. "And fruit and stuff?"

I hoped it only felt felt like I was drooling on my nightshirt. I nodded. They smiled and left, and then I saw the clothes on my bed. My own jeans and socks had been washed, and there was a lavender sweatshirt with large slits newly cut into the back. like I was drooling on my nightshirt. I nodded. They smiled and left, and then I saw the clothes on my bed. My own jeans and socks had been washed, and there was a lavender sweatshirt with large slits newly cut into the back.

Ella's mom was taking care of me, like Jeb had. I didn't know how to act, what to say.

A girl could get used to this.

36.

No matter how quickly the Erasers killed them, the Gasman was sure it would feel like forever.

"Up and away," Iggy breathed, inching slightly closer to him.

Up and away? The Gasman frowned. Iggy had to be kidding. Straight Straight up? up?

Crash! The Gasman jumped as the window behind him shattered with a shower of gla.s.s and broken wood. An Eraser pushed through the ragged opening with a silent grin. The Gasman jumped as the window behind him shattered with a shower of gla.s.s and broken wood. An Eraser pushed through the ragged opening with a silent grin.

"Guess what?" the first Eraser asked with a pleasant smile. "We got the little one-they don't need you two alive." They laughed, the sound like deep bells ringing, and then their faces began to change. The Gasman couldn't help grimacing as they morphed, becoming more wolflike, their muzzles extending, their teeth protruding until it looked like they had a mouthful of knives.

"Boys, boys," one almost purred. "Didn't anyone ever tell you? You can run, but you can't hide." His shiny dark hair was becoming thicker, and more hair sprouted grotesquely on his arms and hands. He literally licked his chops and rubbed his huge, hairy hands together, as if he'd learned how to be a bad guy from cartoons.

"Ready?"

Iggy's voice was so faint, his lips so still that the Gasman wasn't sure he'd heard anything. Every second seemed oddly stretched out. His hands closed into fists by his sides. He was ready. Sure.

"This freak's blind, blind," one Eraser said, gesturing toward Iggy. "Don't worry, kid. It'll all be over soon, and you won't have to worry about being blind anymore. But it's a shame they didn't give you one of their new eyes-like mine."

The Gasman looked up at him, and a feeling of revulsion rose in his throat as he saw what the Eraser meant. Set deep into one orbital socket was a stainless steel ball. A red laserlike glow made it look as though it was filled with blood. The Eraser grinned and turned his eye to the Gasman. A red dot appeared on the Gasman's shirt and, as he watched, it slowly began to burn a small hole in the fabric.

The Erasers laughed.

"You left before they could fix you up with the latest technology," one said. "Your loss."

Yeah, right, the Gasman thought in disgust. the Gasman thought in disgust.

"How about it, piggies?" the first Eraser asked. "Do you want to try to run? Who knows-you might get lucky. For a little while."

Grinning with antic.i.p.ation, the Eraser drew closer.

"On three."

Once again, the Gasman wasn't sure if he'd heard Iggy or if he was imagining it.

"One."

The Gasman's toes clenched inside his sneakers.

"Two."

When Iggy shouted, "Three!" the Gasman leaped straight into the air, unfurling his wings with a huge whoosh. whoosh. With a roar of anger, one Eraser grabbed the Gasman's foot and yanked. Above him, Iggy burst through the rotting roof of the cabin, out into the sky. The Gasman broke free of the Eraser's grip. With a roar of anger, one Eraser grabbed the Gasman's foot and yanked. Above him, Iggy burst through the rotting roof of the cabin, out into the sky. The Gasman broke free of the Eraser's grip.

Then he was pushing through the shattered roof, tucking his wings in tight to get through the hole. Outside, he lost alt.i.tude too fast and landed clumsily on a rickety roof beam. He slid sideways, grabbing roof shingles that came off in his hands.

Iggy yelled from twenty feet above him, "Ga.s.ser! Move!" "Ga.s.ser! Move!"

Just as he slid over the edge of the roof, the Gasman spread his wings. He pushed down hard with all his strength, then pulled his wings up and pushed them down again. As he surged up to meet Iggy, Iggy threw a package down into the cabin.

"Move, move, move!" Iggy yelled, flapping like crazy. Within seconds, they were a hundred yards away.