James Patterson: Maximum Ride Forever

I nodded, praying I wouldn’t start blubbering.

Dylan swallowed again and glanced at the hospital bed. “I pretended to kill the flock, so they would be safe. I had less control over what happened to Fang. The Horsemen were there — Jeb and the doctor were trying out a new upgrade — and there was only so much I could do. You saw how Fang dragged them all over the cliff with him. You saw how one of them... took off Fang’s wing.” The last words ended in a whisper.

I nodded and wiped away a single tear, feeling like the most ancient fifteen-year-old in the world. What was left of it.

“I... waited until everyone was gone, and then... I flew down into the canyon.”

My eyes widened. No. I knew Fang was dead. Angel knew Fang was dead — she had felt it.

Dylan shrugged. “The doctor had labs all over the place. I found Fang at the bottom of the canyon, just as he was about to die. In fact, he might have actually been dead. At any rate, by the time I got him to one of the doctor’s labs, he was dead.”

My eyes narrowed. “Okay. And the point is...”

“The doctor had done all kinds of experiments. You can guess,” said Dylan, looking disturbed by the memories. “But he had the means to put beings into stasis, to hold them until he was ready for them, or whatever.”

I refused to have hope, refused to even think about it. “For God’s sake, Dylan. What are we doing here? Just — tell me.”

Dylan gestured to the bed. “That’s Fang. And... I can make him live.”

“What...” words failed me. That happened very rarely.

“Actually, it’s up to you,” Dylan said. “This is Fang, and he’s in stasis. His body healed itself, mostly, but his wing... well, it was gone. I’ve given him a new wing. It’s artificial but looks and feels just like the real thing. He’ll be able to fly.”

My head was spinning, and actually, the room was, too, a little bit. Abruptly I sat down on a lab stool, gripping the nearby table even harder. I just couldn’t take it in.

“What are you saying?” My words were barely audible.

“Experiments and artificial... parts. I know you hate it, hated everything that Jeb and the doctor did,” Dylan said. “And here I am, doing the same thing. But — I did it for you. Because I love you. I did it because this was Fang, and you love him. So I’m giving you a choice: Do you want me to complete the process? Or would it be better to let him go, the way he should have? Would you still want him, with an artificial wing?”

My eyes felt as big as moons as I stared at Dylan. “Is he a cyborg?” My mouth moved but hardly any sound came out.

“No. It’s like a person having an artificial leg,” Dylan said.

“He would be alive? And — and normal?”

Dylan nodded slowly. “Flesh and blood and brooding silences, the whole lot.”

“I would want him,” I said. “I would want him, wings or no wings, arms or no arms, eyes or no eyes...”

For a long moment, Dylan looked steadily at me.

“Dylan — I’m going to have Fang’s baby.” That was hard — it was like a light went out in Dylan’s eyes. I felt terrible, seeing that this was the final blow, the thing Dylan would never be able to pretend away.

“Congratulations,” he said quietly, his voice cracking. Then he coughed and nodded. “Okay, let’s do this.”

It was like being in a sci-fi movie, watching Dylan wheel in equipment, flip big switches, instruments jumping. He put diodes all over Fang’s still form. I was horrified by my decision, but I knew that even if Fang were a zombie, I would want him, and I would take care of him and protect him for the rest of my life.

Finally Dylan double-checked everything and nodded again. He came to me, and on his face were a calm acceptance and a sweet honesty that I would remember for the rest of my life.

“I love you,” he said.

“I know. I love you, too, but not—”

“I know. It’s okay. I just — want you to forgive me.”

“For what?”

Dylan didn’t answer, just took my face in his hands, so gently, and kissed my forehead. “Good-bye, my love.”

“Good-bye? What do you mean—”

And before I could move, Dylan grabbed a knot of wires in one hand and flicked the last switch. The lights in the room blinked on and off, there was a horrible buzzing, crackling sound, and I saw Dylan’s body spasming as thousands of volts of electricity surged through him...

And into Fang.

On the hospital bed, Fang’s body arced once, then fell back. In the flickering lights I saw one of his hands twitch, his fingers curl. Dylan slumped to the floor, his eyes wide and still, his face slack except for the slightest smile on his lips. He was dead. He had killed himself so that Fang would live. He had killed himself for me.

I began to scream, and was still screaming a minute later when Kate and Holden burst into the room.

I’ll bet when you cracked open my first book, you didn’t know you’d signed up for New World History 101, huh?

Or Her-story, if we’re getting technical.

It’s hard to document exactly how it happened — hard to do it right — but there needs to be a record, so we don’t end up here again, repeating the same mistakes. So someone can see the warning signs, and take a stand.

So you can save the world, if it ever needs saving again. And I’m betting it will.

Right now, all I can do is tell my own truth.

Fang was really alive.

Kate found an envelope addressed to me, from Dylan. It said: “I knew you would choose him, and I accept that. If I can’t live with you, then please believe I’m happy to die for you, my love. Forever yours, Dylan.”

I cried for like three days over that, over Dylan’s unbelievable sacrifice — for me.

Fang was confused at first, having lost months of his life, and had to train his body to work again after being in stasis for so long. But, being Fang, he was soon himself again, and even got used to his new wing faster than I’d expected. It wasn’t long before we were taking one of the last outside flights we could take, before the nuclear winter really hit and we’d have to go underground.

And Dylan was really dead. It took years for me to make peace with that, to not feel guilty, to know he had chosen to do that, and that I hadn’t killed him. But it wasn’t easy. And... I missed him. I missed his smile, his dependability, his sweetness and honesty. I would always miss him. There would always be a Dylan-shaped hole in my heart. But I was thankful every single freaking day that I didn’t have a Fang-shaped hole in my heart. ’Cause I wasn’t sure I’d survive that.

Anyway, it was on that last flight that I gave Fang the big news.

“A what?” he said, staring at me.

“A baby,” I repeated.

He forgot to fly and started dropping out of the sky. I just waited for him, and he soon joined me again.

“Like, a baby ?”

“I believe that’s what they’re called, yes,” I said primly.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and I rolled my eyes.

“It’s kicking me,” I said. “From the inside .”

As you know, Fang is fairly expressionless. But the look on his face when he finally got that he was going to be a dad was... pure exhilaration. The most joy I’d ever seen on anyone. It filled me with a warm glow that kept me going, long after we had to move underground.

But living like a termite (ugh, don’t remind me) was harder than I’d imagined it could be. It felt like being buried alive. Some of the illusion technology kept functioning and projected city streets or starry skies, but every time I tried to fly, I crashed into the low ceilings.