Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment

17

"Unhhh . . ."

This bed was horrible! What was wrong with my bed?

Irritated, I punched my pillow into a better shape, then started sneezing hysterically as clouds of dust sailed up my nose.

"Wah, ah, ah, choo!" I grabbed my nose in an attempt to keep some of my brains inside my head, but the sudden movement caused me to lose my balance, and with no warning I fell hard to the floor. Crash!

"Ouch! Son of a gu --" I scrambled to get up. My hands hit rough upholstery and the edge of a table. Okay, now I was lost. Prying my bleary eyes, I peered around. "What the . . ."

Where was I? I looked around wearily. I was in a . . . cabin. A cabin! Ohhh. A cabin. Right, right.

It was oh-dark-thirty -- not yet dawn.

I leaped to my feet, scanned the room, and saw nothing to be alarmed about. Except for the fact that obviously, Fang, Nudge, and I had just wasted precious hours sleeping!

Oh, my God. I hurried over to Nudge, who was sprawled across a recliner. "Nudge! Wake up! Oh, man . . ."

I turned to Fang, to find him swinging his feet over the edge of a couch he sneezed and shook his head.

"What time is it?" be asked calmed.

"Almost morning!" I said, terribly upset. "Of the next day!"

He was already moving toward the kitchen cupboards. He'd found an ancient, stained backpack in a closet, and now he methodically started to fill it with cans of tuna, sealed bags of crackers, zip-lock bags of trail mix.

"Wha's happ'nin'?" Nudge asked, blinking groggily.

"We fell asleep!" I told her, grabbing her hands and pulling her upright. "Come on! We've gotta go!"

Dropping on all fours, I raked my shoes out from under the couch and blew the dust bunnies off them. "Fang, you can't carry that," I said. "It'll weigh you down. Nothing is heavier than cans."

Fang shrugged and pulled the backpack on. Stubborn kind of fella. Be moved soundlessly across the room and slipped through the window like a shadow.

Now I was jamming Nudge's shoes onto her feet, rubbing her back, trying to wake her up. Nudge was always a reaaallly slow walker. Usually I appreciated the lack of word-spew, which would begin when she was fully functioning, but right now we needed to move, move, move!

I practically threw Nudge through the window, slithered out myself, then propped the screen back in place as best I could.

A quick run down a country road and we were off, stroking hard, pushing to get airborne.

Sorry, Angel. Sorry, sorry, sorry, my baby.