“Max?” said Nudge. “Iggy made cookies. Here. Just take a bite.”
A cookie was pressed against my lips, and I inhaled its chocolatey scent. I opened my eyes all the way, saw what was left of my flock, plus my mom, Dylan, and Jeb, all gathered around me.
“Are you okay?” Nudge looked worried.
“We read the note,” said my mom. Then she turned to the others. “Guys, could you give us a minute?” Everyone backed out, and Iggy shut the door behind them.
“You love him so much it feels like you can’t go on without him,” said my mom.
My startled gaze met her eyes. I had never admitted to anyone, even myself, how much I loved Fang. I bowed my head and gave a tiny nod. Mom took one of my hands and held it.
“You feel like you might die without him,” she said. I tried to swallow, couldn’t, and nodded again.
Her hand raised my chin a bit so I could see her clearly.
“Okay,” she said gently. “So what are you going to do about it?”
75
FANG WONDERED if Max had seen his note yet. She was going to want to kill him. When — if — he saw her again. He couldn’t think about it. That butt Dylan had been right. Fang had to get as far away from the flock as possible. Where, he wasn’t sure. Montana? Canada? Papua New Guinea?
But first he had to get some answers at the doctor’s house.
And there it was. He’d seen the satellite pictures when Nudge found them. The terrace was wide and empty except for a few lounge chairs. No one was in the pool. Fang dropped lightly onto the terrace.
In the next second, he felt a stinging pinch in his upper arm. Looking down, he saw a small dart sticking out of his sleeve.
He started to swear, glancing around wildly for the shooter. Then his knees buckled, he swiped the dart away, and the world swirled around him. He saw Dr. Hans walking toward him with a smile, and four uniformed guards rushing over.
“Fang,” said Dr. G-H. “I knew it was just a matter of time before either you or Max got here. As you can see, we’ve been waiting for you.”
Fang fell over, whacking his head against the stone terrace but unable to cry out. He weighed a thousand pounds. His hand was too heavy to raise, his eyelids too heavy to keep open. He was drifting into unconsciousness. The last thing he saw was Angel’s face looking shocked, her mouth an O of surprise.
Then there was nothing.
76
PAIN.
Fang’s head was killing him. He lifted a hand to his temple and felt a large knot there. A scrape on the skin was clotted with blood. There was a large, pulpy lump on the back of his head — that too had dried blood on it. His lip was split and swollen. He couldn’t move the fingers of his other hand — they felt like they’d been dipped in gasoline and set on fire.
Breathing hurt so much that Fang knew several of his ribs were broken. He’d felt it before. Where was he? He struggled to remember. What had happened to him?
“Fang?” Angel’s voice slowly sank through the haze surrounding him.
“Unggh.” Fang tried to swallow. The taste of blood filled his mouth. His nose was probably broken as well. Finally, with all of his concentration, he managed to pry open one eye. The other eye was swollen shut.
He blinked a couple times. The world was blurry and indistinct. He was aware of bright lights, splotches of darkness, the subdued beeping and hissing of machines. Oh, God — was he back at the School?
“School,” he managed to croak. A machine started beeping more quickly as fear-fueled adrenaline dumped into his veins like ice water.
“No, no, Fang. This isn’t the School. You’re okay.” Angel’s small hand patted his arm. He felt other hands gently but firmly lower his arm to his side, and then a thick, heavy cuff was snapped around his wrist. With great effort he swiveled his head and saw a white-uniformed nurse-type person checking the restraint to make sure it would hold.
His eye searched for Angel. She was standing close to him. Her face looked concerned, but she tried to smile.
“I’m glad you’re awake,” she said.
“Whass goin’ on?” Fang slurred. “Wha happen?”