The Sky Is Falling

by James Patterson

  72

  “ARE YOU REALLY IN DANGER?” Dylan’s voice broke into Fang’s thoughts.

  Fang looked at the newest bird kid. Dylan was an inch or two taller than he was, and somewhat heavier built, though he still had the long, lean look of a human-avian hybrid—you couldn’t make bricks fly. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “How can you stay here?” Dylan asked.

  Fang stood and picked up his drink before he answered. “What do you mean?”

  “If you’re in danger, then someone’s coming after you, right?” said Dylan. “And if you’re standing right next to, say, Gazzy, then Gazzy’s in danger too, right?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “You’re putting everyone else in danger,” Dylan said gravely. “You’re putting Max in danger. Doesn’t it upset you?”

  “I’m not going to discuss my feelings with you,” Fang said. “I’ve got news for you, pal. Max has been in danger pretty much every day of her life, with a few notable exceptions. She knows how to deal with danger. We all do.”

  “Max isn’t indestructible,” Dylan persisted. “None of us are. If we can avoid danger, we should. We don’t need to sit and wait for it to come.”

  Fang stared at him in a silence that felt less comfortable, less natural than usual.

  “If I were you,” said Dylan, “I’d be doing everything I could to keep Max safe.” Some emotion crossed his face; Fang wasn’t sure what it was. “But it’s bigger than that,” Dylan continued. “Max is the key to this whole flock surviving. According to Jeb, Max is the key to the whole world surviving. Sure, Angel was the leader for a couple days, and she’s a strong kid. But she’s no Max. The rest of the flock needs Max—more than you need her.”

  “I know that!” Fang was irritated now.

  “Any one of us is dispensable,” Dylan said. “If I disappear, I’m not even a blip on the screen. I know that. If you disappear, Max would be bummed, the flock would have lost a great fighter, but the flock would still be here. But without Max, how long do you think the flock would hold together? Even with you leading it? Would Dr. Martinez still be looking out for you? Would the CSM still be throwing houses your way? Would you have a single freaking clue about what to do?”

  Dylan’s voice had been steadily rising, and now he was focused on Fang, each word pelting him like a stone. The thing was, Fang thought, Dylan actually seemed sincere. He wasn’t putting himself first.

  On the other hand, if Fang listened to him and left the flock for its own good, and for Max’s own good, it would be leaving the path wide open for Dylan to move in.

  “You gotta do what you gotta do,” said Dylan, calming down. “It’s just—I can’t stand the thought of something happening to Max. I can’t stand it.” His clear turquoise eyes met Fang’s black ones. “I’m designed to feel that way.”

  Fang nodded. This guy had no artifice, no subterfuge. He didn’t know enough to mask his thoughts or have secret plans or hidden motives. He was a sap, and he probably wouldn’t last long.

  “I’m gonna get something to eat,” Fang said, and went inside, leaving Dylan by himself on the balcony. Fang’s mind was blazing, but no one would be able to tell it.

  73

  DYLAN WAS CALMLY LEANING on the balcony rail of the safe house. His eyes were locked on me as soon as I came into view, as if he’d known exactly when I was returning.

  “Max!” he shouted. “Glad to see you’re okay.” He pointed to a round table on the balcony. There, beckoning me, was a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk. “Want some? Figured you’d be hungry after the flight.”

  How could he have known how much I loved chocolate chip cookies? I glowered at him. “Thanks but no thanks, Mr. Hospitality,” I said, and walked right by the cookies. An incredible smell wafted from them—they were fresh from the oven.

  In the living room, everything seemed normal—Gazzy and Iggy were playing a video game, Nudge was curled up with my mom reading a fashion magazine, Jeb was surfing the web on his computer, Total and Akila were asleep on the floor in the sun. And Fang was…

  “Max! Did you find Angel?” my mom asked.

  “Yes.” I took a deep breath. “Angel’s decided to stay with Dr. Guntha-Munka and help him with his research. She thinks that will give her the best chance.”

  “But she’s okay?”

  I nodded. “As okay as a crazy little monkey can be. I mean, she seems to be staying there by choice. She wouldn’t come back with me.”

  Everyone was silent. I glanced around as they digested this info. “Where’s Fang?”

  “He’s in our room,” said Gazzy. “He’s going to play the winner of Crash Test Four. Which will be me.”

  “I don’t think so!” said Iggy, affronted. I guess Iggy had really been progressing in his “vision lessons.”

  I headed down the hall to talk to the one person who could make me feel better about the Angel situation.

  I tapped on the door to their room, then opened it. The beds were empty. The door to the bathroom was open and the bathroom was empty. The window was open.

  Then I saw the note. And my heart seemed to thud to a stop.

  74

  GIVE THIS NOTE TO MAX was hastily scrawled on the folded piece of paper. Fang’s writing was always hasty, always scrawled. A beautiful mess. I opened it up.

  Hey. Not sure what’s going on—gonna go find out. Be careful and don’t do anything stupid. Don’t come after me—you’re better on your own. See you. F.

  I sat on the edge of the bed, holding the note.

  Okay, so Fang had looked up vague in the dictionary, and this was what it had said to write. It could mean anything. So why was my heart thumping with fear?

  Nudge came in. “I can’t believe Angel’s really gone,” she said. “She’ll come back; I’m sure of it.” Then she saw my face. “What’s wrong? I mean, what else?”

  I handed her the note.

  She read it and frowned. “He left? He’s gone too? When is he gonna be back?”

  “Don’t know,” I managed to say.

  Okay, if you’ve been reading about our adventures all along, you know me by now. You know that even in the face of the worst danger possible, I keep my head together and often manage a tart quip besides. It’s part of being a leader.

  But this note had really thrown me. I was so freaking sick of people leaving me and leaving little notes behind. And what did he mean, I was better on my own? On my own, like, without him? Was he crazy? Who was he to make that decision?

  I felt frozen except for the burning hot tears starting to leak out.

  “Max?” Nudge asked, sitting next to me. Her coffee-brown eyes were wide. She was used to seeing me leap into action, and my just sitting there looking like a stunned turtle was shocking enough, but she almost never saw me cry. No one did. I was tough. I was strong. I was a rock.

  Meanwhile, I sort of slid sideways on the bed, looking at a tilted world.

  I felt Nudge get up, heard her run out of the room and down the hall. “Dr. Martinez! Come quick! Something’s wrong with Max!”

  In a few seconds I felt my mom sit down on the bed, felt her cool hand on my burning forehead.

  “Max, honey, what is it?”

  Then the room was full of people talking in hushed tones. My mom was stroking my hair away from my face, and I kept wincing as her hand got caught in the tangles.

  “Max?” said Nudge. “Iggy made cookies. Here. Just take a bite.”

  A cookie was pressed against my lips, and I inhaled its chocolatey scent. I opened my eyes all the way, saw what was left of my flock, plus my mom, Dylan, and Jeb, all gathered around me.

  “Are you okay?” Nudge looked worried.

  “We read the note,” said my mom. Then she turned to the others. “Guys, could you give us a minute?” Everyone backed out, and Iggy shut the door behind them.

  “You love him so much it feels like you can’t go on without him,” said my mom.

 
My startled gaze met her eyes. I had never admitted to anyone, even myself, how much I loved Fang. I bowed my head and gave a tiny nod. Mom took one of my hands and held it.

  “You feel like you might die without him,” she said.

  I tried to swallow, couldn’t, and nodded again.

  Her hand raised my chin a bit so I could see her clearly.

  “Okay,” she said gently. “So what are you going to do about it?”

  75

  FANG WONDERED if Max had seen his note yet. She was going to want to kill him. When—if—he saw her again. He couldn’t think about it. That butt Dylan had been right. Fang had to get as far away from the flock as possible. Where, he wasn’t sure. Montana? Canada? Papua New Guinea?

  But first he had to get some answers at the doctor’s house.

  And there it was. He’d seen the satellite pictures when Nudge found them. The terrace was wide and empty except for a few lounge chairs. No one was in the pool. Fang dropped lightly onto the terrace.

  In the next second, he felt a stinging pinch in his upper arm. Looking down, he saw a small dart sticking out of his sleeve.

  He started to swear, glancing around wildly for the shooter. Then his knees buckled, he swiped the dart away, and the world swirled around him. He saw Dr. Hans walking toward him with a smile, and four uniformed guards rushing over.

  “Fang,” said Dr. G-H. “I knew it was just a matter of time before either you or Max got here. As you can see, we’ve been waiting for you.”

  Fang fell over, whacking his head against the stone terrace but unable to cry out. He weighed a thousand pounds. His hand was too heavy to raise, his eyelids too heavy to keep open. He was drifting into unconsciousness. The last thing he saw was Angel’s face looking shocked, her mouth an O of surprise.

  Then there was nothing.

  76

  PAIN.

  Fang’s head was killing him. He lifted a hand to his temple and felt a large knot there. A scrape on the skin was clotted with blood. There was a large, pulpy lump on the back of his head—that too had dried blood on it. His lip was split and swollen. He couldn’t move the fingers of his other hand—they felt like they’d been dipped in gasoline and set on fire.

  Breathing hurt so much that Fang knew several of his ribs were broken. He’d felt it before. Where was he? He struggled to remember. What had happened to him?

  “Fang?” Angel’s voice slowly sank through the haze surrounding him.

  “Unggh.” Fang tried to swallow. The taste of blood filled his mouth. His nose was probably broken as well. Finally, with all of his concentration, he managed to pry open one eye. The other eye was swollen shut.

  He blinked a couple times. The world was blurry and indistinct. He was aware of bright lights, splotches of darkness, the subdued beeping and hissing of machines. Oh, God—was he back at the School?

  “School,” he managed to croak. A machine started beeping more quickly as fear-fueled adrenaline dumped into his veins like ice water.

  “No, no, Fang. This isn’t the School. You’re okay.” Angel’s small hand patted his arm. He felt other hands gently but firmly lower his arm to his side, and then a thick, heavy cuff was snapped around his wrist. With great effort he swiveled his head and saw a white-uniformed nurse-type person checking the restraint to make sure it would hold.

  His eye searched for Angel. She was standing close to him. Her face looked concerned, but she tried to smile.

  “I’m glad you’re awake,” she said.

  “Whass goin’ on?” Fang slurred. “Wha happen?”

  “You’re at Dr. Hans’s house, in Malibu,” Angel said. “They gave you a… sedative so you wouldn’t be upset. It knocked you out, but then you woke up and, like, went crazy. You were smashing everything in sight, threw a chair through a window, you were punching people. They tried to… settle you. But you got hurt.” Her voice ended in a whisper and she looked away, her cheeks flaming.

  Fang didn’t remember any of it. He wondered if it had really happened that way. Slowly and painfully, he looked at his other arm, which was also restrained. It had an IV drip going into it.

  “Whass dat?” he asked.

  Angel licked her lips. “It’s something to… help you; something—”

  “Oh, our guest is awake, is he?”

  Fang turned his head, feeling as if concrete bowling balls were shifting inside his skull. Dr. Gunther-Hagen was walking toward him, suit crisp as always.

  “Wha the heck is goin’ on?” Fang managed.

  “Fang, I’m glad you’ve joined us,” said the doctor. “Angel here has made the right decision, to help me in my work. And now you’re here too. Fang, by now you’re well aware that the world will soon change irrevocably. Not many people will survive. The ones who do will have some sort of adaptive edge that gives them an advantage.”

  “Leh me up,” said Fang, wondering if he could sit up. “Gettin’ outta here.”

  “No, not just yet, Fang,” said the doctor. He gestured to the drip in Fang’s arm. “I’ve developed a… vaccine, if you will. Given to normal humans, it will enable them to adapt to the new world environment, enhancing their ability to survive. You are already superior, already evolved. I’m incredibly excited to see what effect this will have on you.”

  Fang glared at the doctor as well as he could with just one eye. It was hard to make a croak sound menacing, but he tried. “Geh me outta here.”

  “You have about another ten minutes to go on the IV,” said the doctor. “This reactant will combine with your DNA and help spur greater mutations. Your personal evolution will be sped up, made more dramatic.”

  Oh, great, Fang thought in dismay, subtly testing the strength of his wrist restraints. What would be next? Turning into the Hulk whenever he got upset? That was the problem with mad, megalomaniac scientist types. They loved the idea of the experiment so much that any consequences it had for anyone else seemed unimportant.

  “You’ve observed what a spectacular specimen Dylan is?” the doctor went on. “He’s progressing incredibly well. In a very short time, probably days, he’ll be decidedly stronger, faster, and more psychologically sophisticated than the flock.”

  The doctor looked incredibly pleased with himself, practically trembling with excitement and expectation. “This biological material I’m injecting will help you catch up to him. By that time, of course, Max will already be firmly paired—hmm, perhaps even mated—with Dylan. They will evolve quite brilliantly—together.”

  Fang became aware of a huge weight on his chest. Nothing was there, but it felt as if an elephant were sitting on him.

  The doctor was still talking. “You’ll be ready to lead your own flock by then. Find your own mate. A fit more suited to survival.”

  Fang started to feel light-headed. “Chest hurts,” he whispered. “Can’t breathe.”

  “You’re fine,” said Dr. G-H confidently. “By the way, do you realize that when Max was here earlier, Fang, she refused my offer to save your life?”

  No. He tried to suck in a breath, but the pain in his chest was terrible, and he couldn’t move his muscles. His head fell back, and dimly he heard a beeping sound turn into a steady drone. From very far away, Fang heard Angel cry, “Oh, my God! Fang! Doctor Hans!”

  77

  ANGEL STARED at the heart monitor in horror. A minute ago, its fast, even spikes had showed Fang’s normal heart rate of a 140 beats per minute. Now it was a flat line.

  Fang lay still on the bed, his good eye slightly open. Angel grabbed his hand.

  “Fang! Fang! Wake up!”

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen!” said Dr. Hans, looking upset. “This drug has been tested on many subjects!”

  “But were they normal, to begin with?”

  “Yes, mostly….” Dr. Hans trailed off.

  The drone of Fang’s monitor filled Angel’s head. She smacked her hand down on Fang’s bed, hard. “Do something!” she yelled at Dr. Hans. “You promised me he wouldn’t get hurt!
You promised! Do something!”

  “It’s too late!” said Dr. Hans. “What can I do?”

  Whirling, Angel scanned the lab for a phone but spotted nothing. She sped out of the room and leaped up the steps. Still nothing. She raced outside onto the terrace, and once there, closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and pressed her fingers to her temples. Max, come, she thought as hard as she could. Come here now. Fang needs your help. Come now!

  Her eyes popped open and she started scanning the sky, though she knew there was no way Max could be there yet. She didn’t even know if Max had heard her—she’d never tried to send a message that far before. There wasn’t time for her to fly to the safe house to get Max. All she could do was send thought messages.

  Even though it was already too late.

  78

  MAX, COME. COME HERE NOW. Fang needs your help. Come now!

  I froze, balanced on the balcony. I turned to Nudge.

  “Did you hear that?”

  Nudge shook her head.

  “Got a message from Angel,” I said. “She said Fang needed my help and to come there now.”

  “Fang is there?” Nudge asked, unfolding her wings, getting ready to jump off after me. “What happened?”

  I paused for just a minute, thinking. I didn’t trust Angel, and I sure as heck didn’t trust Dr. Nightmare. But if Fang was there… if he really did need my help…

  I jumped off the balcony, swearing, and rose into the air. “I can’t take the chance,” I told Nudge. “Angel alone—I might not go. But I can’t take the chance with Fang. I’m going.”

  I decided to go into warp drive, leaving Nudge and the others, now clustered on the balcony, behind. Pressing my hands flat against the legs of my jeans, I aimed myself in the direction of Malibu. Then I just… shifted into overdrive. Within fifteen seconds, I was streaking through the sky at upward of 250 miles an hour. I’d be there in minutes.