I felt sick with revulsion and dread. I glanced guiltily around to make sure no one could see me like this. I didn't even know what they would see if they woke up. I felt normal. I looked like an Eraser. Kind of a cuter, blonder, Pekingesey Eraser.
Respect and honor your enemies, said my Voice. Always. Know your friends well; know your enemies even better.
Oh, please, I begged silently. Please let this be just a horrible lesson and not reality. I promise, promise, promise to know my enemies better. Just let me lose the muzzle.
Your greatest strength is your greatest weakness, Max.
I stared at the mirror. Huh?
Your hatred of Erasers gives you the power to fight to the death. But that hatred also blinds you to the big picture: the big picture of them, of you, of everything in your life.
Um. Let me think about that and get back to you. Okay?
Ow. I winced and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to rub the pain away. I touched my face one last time to make sure it really was smooth, and then I went and looked at Fang.
He was still breathing, sleeping. He looked better. Not so embalmed. He was going to be all right. I sighed, trying to release my pain and fear, then I curled up on my mat next to Nudge. I closed my eyes but didn't really have any hope of sleeping.
I lay quietly in the darkness. The only thing that made me feel better was listening to the even, regular, calm breathing of my sleeping flock.
19
"I don't understand it," said the doctor, gazing at Fang's wound.
Yeah, well, I thought, that's the whimsy of recombinant DNA.
The doc had come in to change the bandages this morning and found that Fang's gashes were almost healed, just thin pink lines of scar tissue.
"Guess I'm good to go," said Fang, trying to sit up. He was alert, himself, and happiness filled my heart. I'd been so scared-what would I do without Fang?
"Wait!" Anne Walker said, holding up her hand. "You're nowhere near ready to move or leave. Please, Nick, just lie still and rest."
Fang regarded her calmly, and I smirked to myself. If Anne thought I was uncooperative, wait till she dealt with a recovered Fang.
"Nick, now that you're feeling a bit better, maybe you can convince your brothers and sisters to leave with me," Anne said. "I've offered for all of you to come stay at my house, to rest and regroup." She gave a slight smile. "Max refused to leave without you. But I'm sure you can see that it's pointless for them to stay here and be uncomfortable. And you'd be joining us in a week or so."
Fang just looked at her, waiting.
I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms.
"So, how do you feel about it, Nick?"
Actually, I'd already briefed him, early this morning. Since we were up at six. Since, at six, the nurse had been overcome with an overwhelming compulsion to take Fang's temperature right then.
Fang met my eyes, and I let one side of my mouth droop.
"Whatever Max says," he said evenly. "She's in charge."
I grinned. I'll never get tired of hearing that.
Anne turned to look at me.
"I can't leave Nick," I said, sounding regretful.
"If you all stay, maybe I could examine-," the doctor began, and Anne turned to him as if she'd forgotten he was there.
"Thank you, Doctor," she said. "I appreciate all your help."
It was a dismissal, and the doctor didn't look happy. But he left.
"We heal really quickly," I told Anne. Last night Fang had still looked bad. And I had too, I thought, remembering the horrible Eraser reflection. But this morning I looked like me, and Fang looked much more like himself again.
Fang sat up. "What do I have to do to get some food in this joint?"
"You still have an IV," Anne said. "The doctors don't want you eating solid..." Her voice trailed off as Fang's eyes narrowed.
"We saved a tray for you," I said. An orderly had brought us breakfast, and we'd saved some of everything for Fang.
Anne looked as though she wanted to say something but held it back. A good move on her part, I must say.
I gave the tray to Fang, and he dug into the food with quick precision.
"I need to get out of here," he said between bites. "The hospital smells alone are making me crawl the walls."
I knew what he meant. We all had the same reaction: Anything antiseptic-smelling, hospitally, science labby, brought back years' worth of bad memories.
I looked at Anne. "I think F-Nick is ready to come with us."
She looked at me, clearly thinking things through.
"Okay," she said finally, and I kept the surprise off my face. "Let me go clear up the paperwork. It'll take about an hour and a half to drive to my home. I live in northern Virginia. Okay?"
"Yeah," I said.
Anne left, and I looked around at the flock. "I don't know what's coming, guys, but keep your eyes open and heads up." I glanced at Fang. "You sure you can move?"
He shrugged, looking tired again, and pushed away the food tray. "Sure." He lay back down and shut his eyes.
"After all, Fnick is Superman," said Iggy.
"Shut up, Jeff," I said, but I was smiling. I lifted Iggy's fingers to my face so that he knew.
20
"Gol, Virginia is shore purty," I said to the Gasman, and he grinned.
But it really was. There were many hills of the "gently rolling" type, miles of trees that had been dipped in fiery, autumny paint, and swelling waves of green pastures, some even dotted with actual horses. It was gorgeous here.
Anne's huge Suburban held us all, and Fang got to recline most of the way. I kept an eye on him, noting the way his jaw tightened when we hit bumps, but he didn't complain.
Another fly in the ointment: I was having the same waves of heat and racing heart I'd had last night. My breath came in little pants, and I was so jumpy it felt as if bugs were crawling all over me.
Total had been sitting on my lap, looking out the window, and now he glanced at me with his shiny black eyes. Deliberately he got up and picked his way over Fang's lap and onto Angel's, as if to say, If you're going to be that hot, forget it.
"Oh, gosh, look at that," Nudge said, pointing out her window. "That horse is totally white. Like an angel horse. And what are those rolled-up straw things?"
"Bales of hay," said Anne from the front seat. "They roll them like that instead of making haystacks."
"It's so pretty here," Nudge went on, practically bouncing in her seat next to Anne. "I like these hills. What's the kind of tree with pointy leaves and all the colors?"
"Maples," Anne said. "They usually have the most color."
"What's your house like?" Nudge asked. "Is it all white with big columns? Like Tara? Did you see that movie?"
"Gone with the Wind," Anne said. "No, I'm afraid my house isn't anything like Tara. It's an old farmhouse. But I do have fifty acres of land around it. Plenty of room for you guys to run around. We're almost there."
Twenty minutes later, Anne pulled into a driveway and clicked an electronic gadget. A pair of wrought-iron gates swung open, and she pulled through.
The gates closed behind us, which made my sensors go on precautionary alert.
It took almost a whole minute to get to her house. The driveway was made of crushed shells and wound through beautiful trees arching overhead. Red and yellow leaves fluttered gently down onto the car.
"Well, here we are," she said, pulling around a corner. "I hope you like it."
We stared out the car windows. Anne's house looked like a painting. It had rounded river rocks on the bottom part, and clapboards above, and a big screened porch that covered almost the whole front. Large shrubs circled the yard, and some of them still had faded hydrangea blooms.
"There's a pond out back," Anne said, pulling into a parking space in front of the house. "It's so shallow that it might still be warm enough to swim in, in the afternoons. Here, everyone pile out."