41
GAZZY WAS HOLDING HIS BREATH, cheeks puffed out, belly pushed out, arms at his sides.
“Puffer fish!” Angel guessed. Gazzy shook his head.
“Blister!” said Iggy, poking Gazzy’s cheeks. Gazzy shook his head.
“Knish?” suggested Total. Gazzy shook his head.
“We give up!” Nudge said. “What are you?”
Gazzy let his breath out in a rush. “A grain of rice, cooking!” he said. “Obviously! I started off all skinny, then got bigger and bigger!”
Dylan laughed. “Good one,” he said. “Never would have guessed —”
A high-pitched whistling noise interrupted him and filled the room. Just as everyone was registering the smoking ball on the floor, it exploded.
The explosion was small — a flash of blinding light, followed by a sickening stream of pink smoke. Everyone began coughing, practically retching from the noxious smell.
Then, in the next second, there was a huge crunching noise — from above.
“Scatter!” said Gazzy.
They all fanned out around the edges of the room. Angel motioned to Dylan to keep his back against the wall.
“Oh, God, what is that stuff?” Nudge moaned, coughing into her sleeve.
The shock of the gas cloud rendered them useless as the roof above them was ripped apart with loud splintering noises. Then an inhumanly large, hairy hand grabbed some Sheetrock from the ceiling and tore it away with long, ragged yellow claws.
“Oh, my God,” Nudge breathed. “Is that an Eraser?”
“Everyone, outside!” Angel ordered. It was always better to fight in the air than inside a building, and the smoke felt crippling. But as the flock raced for doors and windows, those doors and windows crashed inward, followed by the hulking, horribly familiar forms of Erasers.
It was like waking up into a nightmare of the past.
“Dinnertime!” one of the Erasers growled, and the others laughed — the same way the flock had heard so many times before. Their wolfish faces were split into ugly yellow-toothed grins, and their small mean eyes glittered with the excitement of the hunt. There were at least ten of them, and they easily weighed more than two hundred pounds each.
The dogs bravely leaped at the wolfmen first. Akila managed to clamp her jaws around one’s ankle and draw blood before he kicked her away. Total took to the air, flitting around like a big black mutant moth, snarling and snapping, occasionally getting a bite of Eraser flesh.
It was a good distraction. The kids had a second to catch their breath as the smoke began to dissipate. Then instinct kicked in, and in moments they had launched themselves at their attackers.
“They still smell like garbage!” Gazzy yelled, as the first blows were exchanged. He felt like he might barf.
“Okay, now I’m mad!” Iggy shouted.
Angel glanced over to see a thin trickle of blood coming from his nose.
An Eraser lunged at Angel, and she dodged, screaming bloody murder. She grabbed a floor lamp and connected with the Eraser’s heavily boned head, snapping it to one side.
Nearby, Dylan was coughing and gagging from the lingering smoke. And yet he was mercilessly pounding an Eraser, his fists flying almost supernaturally fast. The Eraser was doubled over, unsuccessfully trying to block the blows.
So, the new bird kid had been programmed to fight.
The rest of them were even better trained to fight Erasers, but with the desperate impulse to keep their arms in front of their noses and mouths, they started to lose ground.
One Eraser grabbed Nudge and held her in a death grip even though she screamed and kicked with all her might. A second jumped behind her and grasped her wings brutally.
He was getting ready to break them.
42
THE SUN BEAT DOWN on my shoulders. It felt heavenly to be out flying, my hair streaming back, silence all around. I gazed down at the earth beneath me, the winding streams carved through red canyons, the striated layers of rock revealed by millennia of erosion, my tiny shadow on the ground, barely visible —
And the dark shadow following me, so close, practically right on top of me.
I took a breath, folded my wings down, swung my feet so I was vertical, and snapped my fist up hard. With unerring timing, it connected solidly with a face.
I heard a surprised hiss of breath, felt skin split beneath the force, then dove down, did a somersault in midair, and angled myself to attack from below.
“What the hell is the matter with you!” Fang shouted. One hand was pressed to his face, below his right eye.
“Fang!” I evened myself out till I was flying close to him. Our wings kept us about eight feet apart. “I’m sorry — I didn’t know it was you. Why were you sneaking up on me?”
“Who else would it be?” He sounded cranky and kept rubbing his face.
“Anyone! An Eraser, or a Flyboy, or —”
“There aren’t any more Erasers,” he said, giving me a confused look. “And I don’t think there are any more Flyboys either. We haven’t seen any in ages. Who else is going to be flying after you except one of us?”
We both thought of Dylan at the same time. “Sorry,” I muttered again. “I just reacted.”
His cheek was pink and already swelling — he would have a helluva shiner by tomorrow. “Look, there’s a tree over there. Can we stop a minute?”
A huge pine stood at the edge of the tree line on the mountain. We swooped down, slowed, and landed on a large branch.
“Sorry about yesterday,” Fang said. He leaned his back against the broad, rough trunk. “I let Dylan get to me. It was stupid. I can’t believe I didn’t notice the house almost burning down.” He gave a brief, wry smile.
“It didn’t almost burn down,” I said. “Just the couch, really. Gazzy and Ig were making a new stash of detonators, and ‘something happened.’”
Fang shook his head and let out a breath, then looked deeply into my eyes. I got that hollow, fluttery feeling again. I wanted to melt into him and forget everything, but something still felt like it had changed.
For some reason, Dylan’s face popped into my mind, and it was as though the two of them were side by side: Fang and Dylan. They were night and day. Dylan’s face was more open, wanting to talk, to ask questions, to learn. Fang’s face was closed, secretive, strong, like the most interesting riddle I would ever find.
“Jeb said the others were complaining about us,” I told him. The fresh pine-scented breeze blew my hair around, and I tucked it behind my ear.
“We’re all getting used to the … changed dynamics,” said Fang. He reached out and took a strand of my hair, immediately getting caught in a tangle. “It’s pretty, in the sun,” he said, holding the strand out to catch the sun’s rays. It was mostly brown but had streaks of dark red and even a little blond.
“Still,” I pressed on, “we have to think —”
“No, we don’t,” Fang whispered, and he tilted his head. I barely had time to breathe in before his warm lips were on mine, for the first time in … days. He put his arms around me and angled his head more.
I was so familiar with him that I could feel how swollen his cheek was, right under his eye. I mean, I knew Fang. I’d always known him. Literally always, my whole life. He’d always been my best friend and my second-in-command. I didn’t really know when our feelings had changed. All I knew was that he was the best thing I had in my life.
He held me closer and closer until we were practically glued together. I don’t know how long we stayed there, kissing and murmuring to each other. Finally my stomach rumbled, making us both laugh and break apart, our foreheads still touching.
“I guess I better get to the store,” I said, feeling like everything would be all right again in my world. “You coming?”
Fang nodded, and then a low buzzing sound, like a swarm of bees, distracted me. We both looked up through the top of the tree. Very, very high, higher than helicopters usually go, were four black chopper
s. We could barely see them, barely hear them. Most humans wouldn’t have been able to spot them, wouldn’t have known they were there.
But they were. And they were headed in the direction of our house.
Without speaking, we let go of the tree and fell outward, then opened our wings as the ground rushed up to meet us.
Time for reality again.
43
DYLAN HADN’T BEEN ALIVE much longer than eight months and didn’t know much about flock taboos, but one thing he instinctively knew: Don’t mess with a bird kid’s wings.
And Nudge’s were about to be snapped. Then they’d throw her out the window.
“Don’t you dare!” Dylan cried as he leaped for Nudge. Snarling, an Eraser shot out a boot-clad foot, caught Dylan squarely in the chest, and sent him flying across the room. He slammed into a wall and hit his head hard.
In the midst of the battle, Gazzy raced to the kitchen. One of Iggy’s big carving knives, maybe … ? A fast glance revealed nothing — the kitchen was cluttered with dirty plates and pots.
He spied a possible weapon, grabbed it, and raced back to the stench-filled living room, where Nudge was still struggling. An Eraser clamped a hairy paw over her mouth, its rough claws scraping her cheek. Gazzy punched a button on his weapon and jabbed it hard into the back of one of Nudge’s captors.
“Attack of the Kitchen Appliances!” Gazzy yelped hoarsely, never a great one for stealth.
The mixer blades quickly began to spin, and just as quickly got horribly tangled in the Eraser’s long, greasy fur. Gazzy pushed the speed button to “high,” and fur actually started to rip out.
The Eraser howled and whirled to kick at Gazzy. The moment he dropped his guard, Nudge twisted away from him hard, and freed one arm. Then she pulled back and gave the other Eraser a huge snap kick right to his stomach.
When he loosened his grip on her, Nudge instantly dropped to the floor and grabbed his ankles, yanking them as hard as she could. In the next moment Akila lunged at him, barking and snarling, and the Eraser couldn’t regain his balance. He went tumbling out the window, down, down, down into the canyon below.
Gazzy pushed the mixer into the other Eraser again, ripping out more chunks of fur and skin. The Eraser shrieked in pain, trying to bat the mixer away, but it was hopelessly entangled in his fur.
Iggy’s keen sense of smell had been the most assaulted by the gas bomb and Eraser stench. But the upside was he could easily gauge each Eraser’s position. Just as the wounded creature roared at Gazzy, Iggy flung something that glinted in the light as it spun through the air: the blade from his food processor. It sliced through the fur and embedded itself in the Eraser’s back.
“Same bat time,” said Gazzy, grabbing the Eraser’s feet.
“Same bat canyon!” Nudge coughed, helping Gazzy heave the struggling half-man out the window.
That shifted the balance. The flock, Akila, Total, and Dylan could now gang up on the remaining Erasers, two or three on one, and over the next few minutes managed to shove, kick, tip, and otherwise eject every single one of them out the canyon-side windows.
Then it was eerily silent, except for a few wheezes and coughs.
Angel jumped off the deck and flew upward, to see if there were other threats.
“Turn on all the fans!” gasped Dylan, then he leaned over and retched. He’d been breathlessly taking out Erasers since the moment they hit the floor.
Angel came back in, rubbing big dark bruises on her upper arms. “I don’t see anything else,” she said. “Everyone report.” She walked around the room, estimating the damage the way she’d seen Max do.
“Um, this place is shot to hell,” said Gazzy.
“Bloody nose,” said Iggy. “With red blood.”
Now that he’d been able to clear his lungs, Dylan was examining big gouges in his arm. “I’ll be okay, pretty much,” he said bravely. “But I’m worried about Nudge.”
She was crouched on the floor, twisting awkwardly to look over her shoulder. “I’m not sure, but one of my wings doesn’t feel right. Can you sprain a wing?”
“I jammed my pinkie finger,” Angel said, frowning. She gritted her teeth, gripped the end of it, and fearlessly yanked it back into alignment.
Akila was panting, and she and Total touched noses. “We’re okay,” said Total. “But I will never get the taste of Eraser out of my mouth.”
Angel held up a hand. “Shh! Incoming!”
Everyone braced as they heard noises outside.
Then Max and Fang landed on the deck, hopping and skipping to avoid all the debris and broken glass. Wideeyed, Max rushed through the shattered sliding door with Fang close behind her.
“Nice of you to join us,” Angel said.
“Gazzy, man, jeezum!” Fang exclaimed. “What the heck have you been eating, for God’s sake?”
“That was a smoke bomb!” Gazzy defended himself. “Not even I could fill this whole flippin’ house!”
44
“WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED?” I asked, taking in Iggy’s bloody nose, Nudge’s pained face.
“Erasers,” said Iggy angrily. “Erasers happened. But enough about us. How was your joyride?”
“I heard the choppers,” I said. “I came back as fast as I could.” I was still trying to process the “Erasers” part.
“Whatever, Max.” Iggy shook his head angrily. “You and Fang were off together — like always. The rest of us could have died here, but as long as you two get your face time, it doesn’t matter!”
“Hey!” came Jeb’s voice from outside. “Put down the ladder!” He was just returning from the dump. In a few moments, he was staring at us all in shock. Then he looked with dismay around the living room, which was now a poster child for the benefits of having home insurance. Which, of course, we didn’t.
“Erasers attacked,” I told him. “Apparently. While I was at the store.”
Jeb frowned. “Are you sure they were actual Erasers? Not robots?”
“These were definitely Erasers,” Gazzy said. “You can still smell them.”
“Look what I found outside.” Jeb held up a black duffel bag. “Maybe this’ll offer some kind of clue.” He opened it, and we all fell silent. Inside were black hoods. Clear vials of liquid. Hypos in cases. There were black plastic body bags.
“Those were for us,” said Gazzy, as we gaped at the bag’s contents. “They must have been trying to knock us out with that nerve gas stuff.”
“Erasers don’t use this kind of equipment. Only brute force,” Jeb remarked. “Someone else must have been out there too.”
“But weren’t all the Erasers wiped out?” I asked Jeb. Of anyone, Jeb would be in the know about the wolf boys.
Jeb nodded slowly. “The entire original production lines, as well as the next four generations, were all … retired,” he said. “But I wonder. After the School closed, the scientists, what was left of them, scattered. It’s possible — even likely — that one or more of them have set up shop somewhere else.”
“Where are the Erasers now? Do you know?” Fang asked the kids.
“Dumped ’em in the canyon,” Angel said, rubbing her hand.
“Good job, guys,” I said. “That was the way to go.” I tried a grin. “But I bet we’ll be smelling them for days, until the vultures finish them off.”
Fang strode back out to the deck, hopped up on the railing, and jumped off to investigate the remains. I saw envy and admiration war on Dylan’s face.
“So, Dylan, your first Eraser fight,” I commented, wondering how he had done.
“He did great,” said Total. “He’s a machine. Dylan’s like the top-of-the-line Cuisinart to Gazzy’s hand mixer.” Total was a bit of a gourmet, and his point was all but lost on me.
Dylan shrugged as if he’d done nothing at all, even though one arm had ugly gashes on it. His long-sleeved plaid shirt was in tatters.
“Um, we should probably be treating those wounds,” I said, sounding a little more concerned than I
wanted to. That mother hen thing is a hard habit to break.
“Don’t worry, Max. I’ll be fine,” he said, taking his shirt off so he could check out the damage. I tried to avert my eyes from his muscular torso. But even more distracting was seeing just how shredded his arm really was under that shirt.
“Jeepers!” I couldn’t understand how Dylan could be so unflinching with that kind of damage. “Jeb, make yourself useful for once! You’ve got a medical background, don’t you?”
“I think I can fix it, Max,” Dylan said, as he pulled together ragged bits of skin and held them firmly in place.
The flock heals faster than normal humans, but what Dylan did next I’d never seen another bird kid even attempt: He raised his wounded arm to his mouth and used his own spit to wet the damaged areas. WTH?
“Eew!” Nudge said, and turned away. I, however, was fascinated. And terrified.
“Just a little trick Dr. Gunther-Hagen taught me,” Dylan said, as we watched his skin scab up and heal right before our very eyes.
45
I DIDN’T HAVE TIME to grill Dylan about just how much he’d been subjected to Dr. G.’s experimentation before Fang landed lightly on the deck and came in.
“There’s nothing down there,” he reported.
“What?” Nudge sounded stunned.
“Some blood. Bits of fur. Iggy’s mixer,” Fang clarified. “No bodies.”
“Whoever sent them picked them up,” Total said. “Like trash.”
“About my mixer,” Iggy began.
“It was all I could find!” Gazzy said. “You mixed someone to death?” I asked.
“I adapted to the circumstances,” Gazzy said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Hmm,” I said, starting to pace. “So — the Erasers are back. And someone came to get them. We didn’t hear or see how they got here. Choppers may or may not be related.” I rubbed my chin as I walked, trying to put this together.
“It’s nice of you to care now,” Iggy said, stopping me in my tracks.
Fang: A Maximum Ride Novel Page 9