James Patterson - Maximum Ride - The Angel Experiment

And there was his van, just sitting there.

Fang and I looked at each other.

“Money from a jerk is one thing,” I said. “A car from just a guy is something else.”

“We’d only need to borrow it for a few hours,” Fang said. “We could leave him some money as a rental fee.”

“Are we stealing that car?” the Gasman asked. “Let’s.”

I frowned. “No. We’re sort of thinking about borrowing it.” On the one hand, I really didn’t want to become a teenage criminal. On the other hand, every minute that ticked by was another minute closer to Angel’s being the number one dissection lesson for a bunch of rabid geneticists.

“That’s like Grand Theft Auto,” the Gasman said helpfully. “I saw it on TV. It’s popular with kids.”

“Better ‘borrow’ it soon,” advised Iggy. “I hear a chopper.”

I made an executive decision. And yeah, I know- my karma’s going to come back and get me, too.

In movies, people always “borrow” cars by yanking some wires out from under the dash and connecting them. But the real way it works involves a screwdriver and the starter thingy, under the hood. My personal ethics prevent me from giving you more information. That’d be just what I need: a rash of car thefts across America, committed by dedicated readers.

I don’t think so.

Anyway, I did the engine thing while Iggy sat in the driver’s seat, pressing the gas. The motor grumbled into life, I slammed the hood, and we jumped into the van.

My heart was pounding at about two hundred beats a minute.

Then I just stared at the controls.

“Oh, my God,” said Fang. “None of us has ever driven.”

It wasn’t like him to have missed this important detail.

“I’ve seen people drive on TV,” 1 said, trying to sound confident. “How hard could it be?” I knew about the whole neutral, park, drive thing, so I put it into D.

“Okay, guys,” I said. “Here goes nothing.”

You might not know this, but cars have a separate parking brake, not just the foot pedal one. That brake is often not immediately obvious to the naked eye.

Attempting to drive a car before you find and release the parking brake is like trying to drag a Saint Bernard into a bathtub. But enough on that.

“Okay, okay, we’re doing okay,” I said twenty minutes later, after I finally found and released the parking brake. I felt like I was at the helm of a huge, clumsy runaway elephant.

I was sweating and about to jump out of my skin with anxiety about driving, but I tried to look way confident and calm. “I mean, it’s not as good as flying, but it beats the heck out of walking!”

I smiled bravely over at Fang to see him giving me a steady look. “What?”

“Could you take it easy on the hairpin turns?” he said.

“I’m getting better,” I said. “I just had to practice.”

“I didn’t know a van could go up on two wheels like that,” Nudge said. “For so long.”

“I don’t want to barf in a borrowed car,” the Gasman said.

I pressed my lips together and focused on the road. In-grates. “We need to turn east in about five hundred yards,” I muttered, peering out the van window.

A half mile later, I pulled over and rested my head against the steering wheel. “Where the heck is the road?” 1 bellowed in frustration. ‘There’s no freaking road there!“

“You’re going by your own directional senses,” Fang pointed out.

“And there can’t be roads everywhere you feel like there should be a road,” Iggy added reasonably.

I wanted to smack them both.

Sighing, I pulled out onto the turnoff-less road and did a U-ey.

“I’ll just have to take a less efficient route,” I said. I hated the sense of time ticking by, of not knowing whether Angel was still alive. And worse, 1 hated knowing I was getting closer and closer to the School, where everything bad that had ever happened to us had taken place. It felt like I was driving toward certain death, and it was hard to make myself do that.

“Argh!” After yet another unexpected turn that led us away from where we should have been going, I pulled over again and punched the steering wheel several times. Every one of my muscles was tense from driving and worry. I had a bad headache. Lately, I’d been having a lot of headaches. Gee, I wonder why?

“It’s okay, Max,” the Gasman said anxiously.

“Is she hitting the steering wheel?” Iggy asked.

“Look,” said Fang, pointing to a sign. “There’s a town up ahead. Let’s go there, get something to eat, and find an actual map. ‘Cause this wandering thing ain’t workin’”

Bennett was a small, almost cute town. I sat up tall in the driver’s seat and frowned, trying to look older. There were several places to eat. I turned into a parking lot slowly and then oh-so-carefully edged the van toward the back of the lot, away from everyone else.

I turned off the engine, and Nudge and Gazzy sprang for the door. “We’re alive!” yelled the Gasman.

“Wait!” I told them. “Look, we’re really close to the School. This might feel like the middle of nowhere, but really, Erasers could be anywhere and anyone. You know that. So we have to be careful.”

“We have to eat,” Nudge said, trying not to whine. It was hard on her-she seemed to burn through calories faster than anyone, except maybe the Gasman.

“I know, Nudge,” I said gently. “We’re going to. I’m just saying be really careful. Be on guard, be ready to run, okay? Anybody we see could be an Eraser.”

They nodded. I flipped down the visor so I could check myself in the mirror, and something small and heavy dropped into my lap.

I froze, my breath stuck in my throat. What - ?

Gingerly, I looked down. It wasn’t a grenade. It was a key ring. One key was for this van. I looked at it blankly.

“Well, that’ll simplify things,” Fang said.

“Iwant my room to smell just like this.” Iggy inhaled deeply as the scents of flame-broiled burgers and hot french fries wafted around us.

“It would be an improvement,” I agreed, reading the menu board. My stomach felt like it was trying to digest itself. I was shaky with tension and adrenaline, and felt like I was going to come apart at the seams.

The fast-food restaurant was crowded and jarringly noisy. All of us felt nervous when we were around regular people. We shuffled into line, trying to be inconspicuous. As far as I could tell, no one here was an Eraser.

But of course Erasers looked pretty normal-until they started morphing and tried to bite your freaking head off.

“I don’t eat meat anymore,” Nudge announced. At my uncomprehending stare, she said, “Not after seeing the hawks go through rabbits and snakes and other birds. It’s just icky.”

Fang stepped up and ordered three double cheeseburgers, a chocolate shake, a soda with caffeine and sugar, three fries, three apple pies.

“Feeding a crowd?” the woman behind the counter asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Fang said sweetly.

Yeah, him and all his split personalities, I thought. I turned back to Nudge.

“Okay,” I said, reaching deep into my well of leaderly patience. “But you still need lots of protein.”

Iggy ordered the same thing as Fang, and I paid for him. Fang waited for him to get his food and unobtrusively led him to the most private booth.

“Um, let’s see,” I said, stepping up. “Could I have two fried-chicken sandwiches, two double cheeseburgers, four fries, six apple pies, two vanilla shakes, one strawberry shake, and then two triple cheeseburgers, only hold the hamburger?”