Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment

11

"Whaaat?" the Gasman squeaked.

Iggy went even paler than normal, if possible.

"That's where they took Angel," I said. "And that's where we have to go to get her back."

"Oh," said Nudge, her brain hitting overdrive. "Yeah. We have to get Angel back. We can't let her stay there -- with them. They're -- monsters. They're going to do bad things to her. And put her in a cage. Hurt her. But there's five of us. So the rest of us have to go get it hmph --"

I had to wrap my hand across her mouth. She peeled my fingers apart. "Ugh, how far is it?"

"Six hundred miles, more or less," Fang said. "At least a seven-hour flight, not including breaks."

"Can we discuss this?" Iggy asked, not turning his head, "We're way outnumbered."

"No." I scanned the map, already working out routes, rest stops, backup plans.

"Can we take a vote? They had guns. And a chopper." There was an edge in Iggy's voice.

"Iggy. This is not a democracy," I said, understanding his fear but unable to do anything about it. "It's a Maxocracy. You know we have to go after Angel. You can't be thinking that we would just let them take her. The six of us look out for one another -- no matter what. None of us is ever going to live in a cage again, not while I'm alive." I took a deep breath.

"But actually, Nudge, Fang, and I are going after Angel. You and the Gasman -- I need you to stay here. Hold down the fort. On the off chance that Angel escapes and makes her way home."

There was a moment of dead silence.

"You are so full of it," said Iggy, turning toward me. "That's not why you want us here why don't you just say it?"

Tension was making my stomach hurt. I didn't have time for this. No -- Angel didn't have time for this.

"Okay," I said, trying for a placating tone. "It's true. I don't want you to come. The fact is, you're blind, and while you're a great flyer around here where are you know everything, I can't be worrying about you in the middle of a firefight with the Erasers."

Iggy's face twisted in anger. He opened his mouth but got cut off.

"What about me?" the Gasman squealed. "I don't care if they have guns and a chopper and Erasers. She's my sister."

"That's right. And if they want her so bad, they might want you just as bad," I pointed out. "Plus, you're a great flyer, but your eight years old, and we're going to be logging major hours."

"Jeb never would have made us stay," Iggy said angrily. "Never. Ever."

I pressed my lips together. I was doing the best I could. "Maybe not," I admitted. "We'll never know. Jeb's dead. Now everyone get your gear together."