Now Fang was rubbing my neck. I was both exhausted and hyperaware, and just as he leaned in-to kiss me again?-I jumped to my feet.
He looked up at me.
"I-I'm not sure about this," I muttered. How's that for silver-tongued rapier wit, eh? Overreacting impressively, I raced to the front of the cave and launched myself out into the night, unfurling my wings, feeling the wind against my burning face, hearing the rush of air all around me.
Fang didn't follow, though when I glanced back I saw his tall, lean form standing in the cave entrance, highlighted by the fire.
Not too far away, I found a narrow rock ledge, well hidden in the night, and I collapsed there in tears, feeling confused and upset, and excited and hopeful, and appalled.
Ah, the joys of being an adolescent hybrid runaway.
19
What was Fang going to do, blog about Max throwing herself out into space just so she wouldn't have to kiss him again? No! Instead he smashed his fist against the cave wall, then grimaced with the pain and stupidity, seeing his bloodied knuckles, the almost instant swelling.
He banked the fire, keeping a small pile of embers glowing in case she came back and needed help finding the entrance. Neither was likely.
He kicked most of the rocks off a Fang-sized place and lay down, rubbing his wings against the fine silt because it felt good. He didn't want to check his blog-he'd had almost eight hundred thousand hits earlier-didn't want to do anything except lie still and think.
Max.
God, but she was stubborn. And tough. And closed in. Closed off. Except when she was holding Angel, or ruffling the Gasman's hair, or pushing something closer to Iggy's hand so he could find it easily without knowing anyone had helped him. Or when she was trying to untangle Nudge's mane of hair. Or-sometimes-when she was looking at Fang.
He shifted on the hard ground, a half-dozen flashes of memory cycling through his brain. Max looking at him and laughing. Max leaping off a cliff, snapping out her wings, flying off, so incredibly powerful and graceful that it took his breath away.
Max punching someone's lights out, her face like stone.
Max kissing that weiner Sam on Anne's front porch.
Gritting his teeth, Fang rolled onto his side.
Max kissing him on the beach, after Ari had kicked Fang's butt.
Just now, her mouth soft under his.
He wished she were here, if not next to him, then somewhere in the cave, so he could hear her breathing.
It was going to be hard to sleep without that tonight.
20
Before Fang took the computer with him, and before they'd almost gotten nailed by robot Erasers, Nudge had been reading camping recipes online. She was tired of Ding-Dongs and hot dogs on a stick.
She'd found out that you could do amazing stuff, like cooking whole meals wrapped in foil in the embers of a fire. She decided to get a frying pan next time she had a chance. It wouldn't be too hard to carry around one little frying pan, would it? And if they had a frying pan, Iggy could make almost anything. Just thinking about it was making her stomach rumble.
"That smells good," said Angel, coming over to kneel by the fire. "Is that what that foil was for?"
"Uh-huh," Nudge said, poking at the foil package with a stick.
The next second, the waning sun blinked out.
They both looked up in surprise, and Gazzy and Iggy stopped playing tic-tac-toe.
Angel drew in her breath so fast it sounded like a whistle. Nudge felt like her own breath had turned to a chunk of concrete in her throat, because she couldn't make a sound, couldn't move.
Hundreds of those robot things, the things that Iggy called Flyboys, were covering the sky above their canyon and coming in both ends. Nudge guessed the few that had survived the earlier fight had gone to get reinforcements. There must have been ten times as many this time.
The flock was trapped.
"Dinner's ready," said Angel. "And it's us."
21
"Up and away?" Iggy asked, and Gazzy answered, "No! They're above us too! Everywhere!"
Nudge's ears were filled with a horrible droning sound, like a thousand bees, and as the Flyboys dropped closer, it started to sound like chanting, like, "We are many! You cannot win!"
"We can sure as heck try!" Gazzy yelled. Leaning down, he grabbed a bunch of sticks from the fire and threw them into the air. Several of the Flyboys caught fire. Excellent. They were flammable!
Nudge raced over and grabbed some burning sticks too, but she held one too close and singed her hand. Still, she threw them into the air as hard as she could, watching in amazement as Flyboys burst into flame.
"Cool!" Gazzy grinned, forgetting to panic for a moment. "It's like they were dipped in gasoline!"
"They don't have minds," Angel said.
Nudge looked at her.
"They don't have minds," Angel explained again, upset. "I can't do anything."
"Well, I can bite 'em!" Total cried, racing in circles around their feet. "Let me at 'em! Let me get my fangs on 'em!" He made little leaps into the air, snapping his jaws.
"Total!" Angel said. "Be careful! Come back!"
"Let me teach 'em a lesson!" Total yelled.
The flock fought hard-of course. Max had taught them to fight, to never, ever give up. Unless running away made more sense, she'd always added.
Running away would have been so great, Nudge thought, but in this case there was nowhere to run. The canyon was clogged with Flyboys. They seemed to be mostly metal with a thin Eraser covering on the outside. The ones that had burned were all metal now, their skin and fur charred and shriveled against them, smelling god-awful.
Iggy threw every bomb he had (Nudge had no idea where he'd been hiding them, and she bet Max didn't know about them either), but all the bombs destroyed only fifteen or twenty Flyboys. Not enough, nowhere close to enough.
The flock was caught. Maybe if Max and Fang had been there, it would have taken the robots another minute or two. That's how bad it was, how hopeless.
Within twenty minutes, the flock had been duct-taped into unmoving bundles, even Total. Then Flyboys grabbed them and took to the air, flying like big toasters or something.
Nudge saw Iggy, Gazzy, Angel, and Total, their mouths taped shut like hers.
Don't worry. Angel sent the thought out to each of them. Don't worry. Max and Fang will come back. They'll find us. They'll be really mad too.
Nudge tried not to think, so Angel wouldn't be more scared, but she wasn't able to shut her brain down completely. So Angel might have felt her think: Not even Max and Fang can get us out of this. No one can. This is the end.
22
I went back to Fang the next morning and pretended that nothing had happened, that my little DNA-enhanced heart hadn't gone all aflutter and that I hadn't imagined myself in a hoopskirt, coming down the stairs at Tara like Scarlett O'Hara.
Nope. Not my style. Instead I showed up, skidding on my landing, sending grit and pebbles everywhere, and said, "Let's roll!"
Topping the list of thorns in my side for today were:
1) Weirdness between me and Fang
2) Worry about leaving the flock
3) Gnawing sense of pressure about getting back to the mission
4) The usuaclass="underline" food, shelter, safety, life expectancy, etc.
5) And then, of course, that whole actual saving-the-world thing
Gosh, it was hard to figure out what to worry about first. Everything wanting to contribute to my ulcer, Get in line and take a number!
"You're quiet." Fang broke into my thoughts. Below us, barren miles of mountains, plains, Indian reservations, and desert looked like wrinkles on a dirt-colored tablecloth.
I glanced at him. "Enjoy it while you can."
"Max." He waited till I looked at him again. "The one thing we have is each other. The one thing we can depend on, no matter what. We have to...talk about stuff."