James Patterson: Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment

“You macho thing, you,” I said when we finally landed in the darkness of Central Park. He looked worn out, clammy, and pale, but he had flown all the way with no complaint.

“That’s me,” he said, but he gave me a long look, like, I haven’t forgotten what you did, meaning the Kiss.

I blushed furiously, embarrassed beyond belief. I would never live that down.

“Are you really okay, Fang?” Nudge asked, the most touching concern in her voice. Nudge doted on Fang.

He looked like he’d fallen off a cliff, with huge purple bruises distorting his face, the awful scratches Ari had left on his cheeks, the stiff, pained way he moved.

“I’m cool,” he said. “Flying helped loosen me up some.”

“Look, let’s find a place to hunker down, catch some Zs, and then take another shot at the Institute,” I said. “We’ve got to figure it out-we can’t stop now. Right, guys?”

“Yeah, right,” Nudge said. “Let’s do it, get it over with. I want to know about my mom. And other stuff. I want to know the whole story, good or bad.”

“Me too,” said Gazzy. “I want to find my parents so I can tell’m what total scuzzes they are. Like, ‘Hi, Mom and Dad, you’re such scum! ”

I decided we’d better stay underground for safety’s sake. In the subway station, we jumped off the platform and walked quickly along the tracks. It looked familiar, and sure enough, a few minutes’ walking brought us to a huge firelit cavern populated by homeless people and misfits. Home, sweet home, especially if you happen to be a sewer rat.

“Boy, does this look inviting,” Fang said, rubbing his hands together.

I made a face at him as we climbed up onto the concrete ledge. Inside, I was glad that he had enough energy to be sarcastic.

Suddenly exhausted and emotionally wiped, I held out my left fist to make our bedtime stack. We did our thing, then Angel snuggled next to me. I checked to make sure the others, especially Fang, were okay, then I lay down, letting despair cover me like a blanket.

I was in the middle of another sleep-driven brain explosion when I felt myself surface to consciousness without opening my eyes. Not analyzing the impulse, I shot out my hand and grabbed someone’s wrist.

Moving fast, still on instinct, I sat up and twisted the intruder’s arm behind his back, my senses roaring to life.

“Cool it, sucker!” the arm’s owner whispered furiously. I yanked upward, threatening to pop his arm out of its socket. I definitely could’ve done it.

Fang creaked upright next to me, his eyes alert, but his body moving stiffly.

“You’re screwing with my Mac again,” said the hacker, and I loosened my hold on him. “Jeez, what happened to you?” Directed at Fang.

“Cut myself shaving,” Fang said.

The hacker frowned and rubbed his shoulder where I’d strained it. “Why’d you come back here?” he asked angrily. “You’re totally wrecking my hard drive.”

“Let me see,” I said, and he grumpily opened his laptop.

The screen was covered with the inside of my head: images, words, photos, maps, mathematical equations.

The hacker scowled, seeming more perplexed than mad, though. “It’s weird,” he said. “You guys don’t have a computer with you?”

“No,” Fang said. “Not even a cell phone.”

“What about a Palm Pilot?” the hacker asked.

“Nope,” I said. “We’re kinda more low-tech than that.” Like, having Kleenex would be a huge step up for us.

“A memory chip?” he persisted.

I froze. Almost against my will, I slid my gaze over to Fang.

“What kind of memory chip?” I asked, striving for casual.

“Anything,” the hacker said. “Anything that would have data on it that would interfere with my hard drive.”

“If we did have a chip,” I said carefully, “could you access it?”

“If I knew what it was,” he said. “Maybe. What do you have?”

“It’s small and square,” I said, not looking at him.

“Like this?” The hacker held his fingers about three inches apart.

“Smaller.”

His fingers were a half-inch apart. “You have a memory chip this small?”

I nodded.

“Let me see. Where is it?”

I took a deep breath. “In me. It’s implanted in me. I saw it on an X-ray.”

He stared at me with horror in his eyes. He turned off his laptop and closed the lid. “You have a memory chip that small implanted in you,” he verified.

I nodded, guessing this was somewhat worse than having cooties.

He took several steps back. “A chip like that is bad news,” he said slowly, as if I were stupid. “It might be NSA. I won’t mess with it. Look, you stay away from me! Next thing, they’ll be after me.” He backed away into the darkness, his hands up as if to ward off evil. “I hate them! Hate them!” Then he was gone, back into the bowels of the tunnels.

“See ya,” I whispered. “Wouldn’t want to be ya.”

Fang looked at me irritably. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

I so wished he weren’t all banged up-so I could whack him.

We tried to get some sleep-God knows we needed it. I kind of dozed off. Then I wasn’t asleep, I knew that much. But I wasn’t awake, exactly.

I’d been, like, sucked into another dimension, where I could feel my body, sort of, knew where I was, and yet was powerless to move or speak. I was in a movie, starring me, watching it all happen around me. I was going down a dark tunnel, or the tunnel was slipping by me, and I was staying still. Trains were rushing past me on both sides, so it was a subway tunnel.

I was thinking, Okay, subway tunnel. Yeah, so?

Then I saw a train station: Thirty-third Street. The Institute’s building was on Thirty-first Street. In the darkness of the waking-dream subway tunnel, I saw a filthy rusted-over grate. I saw myself pulling the grate up. Fetid brown water gurgled below. Bleah -it was the sewer system, beneath the city.

Hello.

Beneath a rainbow…

Bingo, Max , said my Voice.

My eyes popped wide open. Fang was watching me with concern. “Now what?”

“I know what we have to do,” I said. “Wake everyone up.”

“This way,” I said, walking in the darkness of the tunnels. It was as if a detailed map was imprinted on my retinas, so I could see it laid over reality, tracing the path we needed to follow. If this map effect was part of my life forever, I would go nuts, but right now it was dang useful.

One other thing I guess I should mention-I was really, really afraid now, more afraid than I’d ever been before, and I didn’t even know why. Maybe I didn’t want to know the truth. Also, my head was throbbing, and that had me a little crazy too. Was I approaching my expiration date? Was I going to die? Was I just going to fall over and be gone from the world and my friends?

“Did the Voice tell you about this, Max?” Nudge poked at me and asked.

“Kind of,” I answered.

“Great,” I heard Iggy mutter, but I ignored him. Every step was bringing us closer to the Institute-I could feel it. We were finally about to have our questions answered, and also possibly fight the worst fight of our lives. But our curiosity was so compelling: Who were we? How had they taken us from our parents? Who had grafted avian DNA into us and why? My mind shied away from the parent question. I really didn’t know if I could stand to find out. But everything in me burned to know the other whys and wherefores. I wanted names. I wanted to know who was accountable. I wanted to know where they lived. “Okay, now the tunnel splits,” I said, “and we take the one with no tracks.”