Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment

14

"Max? I'm starving."

I had been ignoring my own ferociously growling stomach innards for half an hour. There was no way I was going to break first -- and give Fang the satisfaction? I don't think so. But I did have an obligation, as a leader, to take care of Nudge. As much as I hated to stop and lose time, it was a reality.

"Okay, okay. We need food." How's that for incisive leadership? "Fang, we need to refuel. Ideas?"

Fang pondered. It always amazes me how he's able to seem so calm at the absolute worst times. Sometimes he seems like a droid -- or drone. Fang of Nine. Fang2-D2.

Below us were mountains -- the San Fransisco Peaks, according to our map.

Our glances met -- it was creepy how we knew what each other was thinking so much of the time. "Ski slopes," I said, and he nodded. "Summertime. Empty vacation houses."

"Would they have food?" Nudge asked.

"Let's go find out," I said.

We flew in a big circle around the edge of the mountains. Small towns that came alive in winter dotted the foothills. I led us away from them, to where a few homes stood like train-set models among the trees. One house was apart from the others. No cars parked outside, no smoke coming from the chimney. Nobody home?

I banked and slowed, tucked my wings in a bit, and started to drop.

We landed a hundred yards away. As usual, after flying, my legs felt a tad rubbery. I shook them out, then folded my warm wings in tight against my body.

Nudge and Fang did the same.

We crept through the woods. No signs of life. The porch was covered watch pine needles, the driveway hadn't been used, the shrubbery was way overgrown.

I gave Nudge the thumbs-up, and she smiled, though, amazingly, she stayed quiet. Bless you, child.

A quick reconnaissance revealed no alarm system I could see. No red lights blinking inside for motion detectors. This wasn't a big fancy house worth alarming, anyway. It was just a teeny-tiny vacation cottage.

With my pocketknife I slit a window screen and unhooked the latch. The screen lifted off easily, and I set it carefully against the side of the house: A thoughtful burglar, that's me.

Then Fang and I shook the old wooden window frame until the lock at the top jiggled open. Fang climbed in first, then I boosted Nudge in, the I scrambled in and shut the window.

Dust covered everything. The fridge was turned off, its door open. I started opening kitchen cupboards. "Bingo," I said, holding up a dusty can of soup.

"Oh, yeah, pay dirt, woo-hoo!" Cans of beans, fruit, condensed milk, whatever that was -- it sounded bad. The ever-popular ravioli. "We're golden!"

Fang found some dusty bottles of orange soda, and we popped those suckers open. But let me tell you -- there's a reason people serve that stuff cold.

Half and hour later, we were sprawled on the musty couches, our eyes at half-mast, our bellies way too full.

"Uhhnnhh," Nudge moaned. "I feel like, like concrete."

"Let's take ten, rest a bit," Fang said, closing his eyes. He lay back against the couch and crossed his long legs. "Digest a minute, well feel better."

"I second that emotion," I muttered, my own eyes closing. We're coming, Angel. In a minute.