Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment

7

You see, that nightmare I had is actually hard to tell apart from my real life. My friends and I really did used to live at a stinking cesspool of evil called the School. We were created by scientists, whitecoats, who grafted avian DNA onto our human genes. Jeb had been a whitecoat, but he'd felt sorry for us, he cared about us, and kidnapped us away from there.

We were bird kids, a flock of six. And the Erasers wanted to kill us. Now they had six-year-old Angel.

I gave a strong push down and then up, feeling the shoulder muscles working to move my thirteen-foot wingspan.

I banked sharply, heading for the Humvee. A quick glance back revealed that Nudge had jumped out after me, then Iggy, the Gasman, and Fang. In tight formation, he swerved down toward the car. Fang snatched a dead branch off a tree. He jumped straight down and smashed it against the Humvee's front windshield.

The vehicle swerved, window rolled down. A gun barrel poked out. Around me, trees started popping with bullets. The smell of hot metal and gun smoke filled the air. I looped back into the tree line, still tracking the car. Fang smashed the windshield again. Bullets spit from several windows. Fang wisely surged away.

"Angel!" I screamed. "We're here! We're coming for you!"

"Up ahead," called Fang, and I saw a clearing maybe two hundred yards away. Through the trees, I could barely see the greenish outline of a chopper. The Humvee was bouncing heavily over the rutted road. I met Fangs eyes, and he nodded. Our chance was when they moved Angel from the car to the chopper.

It all happened so fast, though. The Humvee braked awkwardly, slipping in the mud. The door burst open, and an Eraser sprang out. Fang dropped in him, then recoiled with a yell, his arm dripping blood. The Eraser sped toward the chopper, throwing himself through the open hatch. A second Eraser, showing his huge yellow canine teeth, leaped from the car and hurled something into the air. Shouting, Nudge grabbed Iggy's hand and they pulled backward fast as a grenade exploded in front of them spewing chunks of metal and tree bark everywhere.

The chopper's rotor was picking up speed, and I shot out from behind the trees. They were not going to get my baby. They were not taking her back to that place.

Ari jumped out of the car, carrying the sack with Angel in it.

I tore toward the chopper, fear and desperate anger making my blood sing. Ari threw Angel's sack through the open door. He jumped in behind, an incredible athlete himself.

With a furious roar, I sprang up and caught hold of the chopper's landing skid just as it took off. The metal was hot from the sun and too wide to hold. I hook one arm around it, trying to steady myself.

The massive downdraft from the rotors almost snapped my wings in half. I pulled them in, and the Erasers laughed, pointing at me as they closed the glass hatch. Ari was right there. He picked up a rifle and aimed it at me.

"Let me tell you a secret, old pal, old chap," Ari yelled at me. "You've got it all wrong. We're the good guys!"

"Angel," I whispered, near tears. Ari's claw tightened on the trigger. He would do it. And dead, I would be no use to anybody.

My heart breaking, I let go, falling far, just as I saw a small, tousled blond head shake itself free of the sack.

My baby, flying away toward her death.

And, trust me on this, things much worse than death.