Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment

10

Nudge gasped, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

The Gasman looked scared, then tried to wipe it off his face.

Iggy's spine tightened, his face like ice. When he'd been at the School, they'd tried to surgically enhance his night vision. Now he was blind forever. Oops.

"They took Angel back to the school?" the Gasman asked, confused.

"I think so," I said, trying to sound together and leaderly. As if I weren't screaming with panic inside.

"Why?" Nudge whispered. "After four years, I thought maybe they had forgotten --"

"They want us back," said Fang.

We'd never really talked about this. It was like, out of sight, out of mind. Actually, more like, let's all try to forget when we were at the mercy of sadistic spawns of Satan in a place that's a total, hellish abomination and ought to be firebombed. Yeah, more liked that.

"They'll never forget about us. Jeb wasn't supposed to take us away from there," I reminded the Gasman.

"Jeb knew they would do anything to get us back. If anyone ever discovered what they did to us, it would be the end of the School," Fang explained.

"Why don't we tell on them, then?" Nudge demanded. "We could go to a TV station and tell everyone and say, Look, they grew wings on us, and we're just little kids, and --"

"Okay, that would fix them," Iggy interrupted. "But we'd end up in a zoo."

"Well, what are we gonna do, then?" the Gasman was starting to sound panicky.

Fang had gotten up and left the room, and now he returned, holding a sheaf of yellowed, fading papers, the edges looked nibbled, and he shook some mouse poop off.

"Eew," said Nudge, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "Was that --"

"Here," said Fang, pushing the papers at me.

They were Jeb's ancient printed-out files. After he disappeared, we cleared off his desk and shoved everything in the back of the closet so we wouldn't have to look at it all the time.

We spread the papers out in the kitchen table. Just looking at them made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Not to mention the strong eau de mouse. I'd rather have been doing anything but.

Fang started to shift through the pile. He found a large manila envelope, sealed with a clump of wax. After looking at me, catching my nod, he popped the wax with his thumbnail.

"What is that?" asked the Gasman.

"Map," Fang said, pulling out a faded topographical drawing.

"Map of what?" Nudge leaned closer, peering over Fang's shoulder.

"Map of a secret faculty," I said, feeling my stomach clench. I'd hoped I'd never have to see it again, never break that wax seal. "In California, The School."