But it takes a lot, and I mean a whole lot, to make any of us cry. We’ve had bones broken without crying about it. Today, though, it was like another flood was coming, and Noah was building an ark. My throat hurt so much from holding back tears that it felt as though I’d swallowed a fist of clay.
Angel stepped forward and gently tossed a handful of dirt onto the plain wooden box at the bottom of the big hole. A hole it had taken all of us three hours to dig.
“Bye, Ari,” she said. “I didn’t know you for very long, and I didn’t like you for a lot of it. But I liked you at the end. You helped us. You saved us. I’ll miss you. And I didn’t mind your fangs or anything.” Her little voice choked, and she turned to bury her face against my chest.
I stroked her hair and swallowed hard.
The Gasman was next. He too sprinkled dirt on the coffin. “I’m sorry about what they did to you,” he said quietly. His spiky blond hair caught a shaft of sunlight and seemed to light up this little glen. “It wasn’t your fault.”
I snuck a quick glance over at Jeb. His jaw was clenched, his eyes full of pain. His only son lay in a box in the ground. He had helped put him there.
Bravely, Nudge stepped closer to the grave and tossed some dirt onto it. She tried to speak but started crying. I drew her to me and held her close.
I looked at Iggy. As if sensing it, he raised his hand and dropped it. “I don’t have anything to say.” His voice was gruff.
Next it was Fang’s turn, but he waved me to go. Total had collapsed in sobs on my shoes, so I gently disengaged him and stepped over to the grave. I had two hothouse lilies, and I let them float onto the coffin of my half brother.
As the flock leader, I was supposed to come up with a speech. There was no way to sum up what I was feeling. I had killed Ari once, then watched him die again as he saved my life. I’d known him when he was a cute little kid, and I’d known him as a hulking Eraser. I had fought him almost to death, and I had ended up choosing him over the best friend I’d ever had. I’d hated everything about him, then found out we shared half of our human DNA.
I had no words for this, and I’m a word queen. I’ve talked my way out of more tight spots than a leopard has, but this? A funeral for a sad, doomed seven-year-old? I had nothing.
Fang came up behind me and touched my back. I looked at him, at his dark eyes that gave away nothing. He nodded and sort of patted my hair, then moved forward and dropped some dirt onto the coffin.
“Well, Ari, I’m sorry that it’s ended like this,” he said so quietly I could hardly hear him, even with my raptor super-hearing. “You were a decent little kid, and then you were a total nightmare. I didn’t trust you — until the very end. I didn’t know you much, didn’t care to.” Fang stopped and brushed some overlong hair out of his eyes. “Right now, that feels like the biggest tragedy of all.”
Okay, that so did me in. Mr. Rock being all emotional? Expressing feelings? Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I covered my mouth with my hand, trying not to make a sound. Nudge put her arm around me, feeling my shoulders shaking, and Angel held me tight. Then everyone was holding me, total flock hug, and I put my head on Fang’s shoulder and cried.
4
THERE’S NO REST for the wicked. But you knew that.
As soon as the sob-fest was over and Ari was buried, Jeb said, “We need to go.” His face was pale and unhappy. “Dr. Martinez and I talked to you about this trip to Washington. We think it’s crucial that you guys attend this meeting.” He sighed, not looking at Ari’s grave.
“Why is this important, again?” I asked, trying to turn my back on feeling sad. Not so easy. “You said something about government, blah blah blah?”
Jeb began to head out of the woods. With me in the lead and Fang taking up the rear, we followed him cautiously.
“After everything that happened in Germany,” Jeb said, “we were contacted by some very important higher-ups in the government. People who understand, who are on our side.”
I felt like saying, “What’s this ‘our side,’ kemosabe?” but didn’t.
“They’re eager to meet with you,” he went on. “Frankly, these would be important and valuable allies — people who could actually offer you protection and resources. But they’re very hands-on — they need to see the miracle kids with their own eyes.” He turned back and gave us a rueful smile.
“If by ‘miracle kids’ you mean innocent test-tube babies whose DNA was forcibly unraveled and merged with two percent avian genes, yeah, I guess that would be us,” I said. “Because it’s a miracle that we’re not complete nut jobs and mutant disasters.”
Jeb winced and gave a brief nod, accepting his role in our short, hard lives. “Well, as I said, they’re eager to see you. And your mom — Dr. Martinez — and I really recommend you go.” We came to the edge of the woods, and there was a small landing strip, scraped into the forest like a wound. A sleek private jet waited there, two armed Secret Service agents standing at the entry stairs.
I halted about ten yards away, doing a quick recon. Force of habit. No one started shooting at us. No hordes of Erasers or Flyboys swarmed out of the woods.
“I don’t know,” I said, looking at the jet. “It feels weird that no one’s throwing a black hood over my head.”
Fang smirked next to me.
Jeb had walked on ahead, and now he turned. “Max, we talked about this. This jet will actually get you to Washington faster than you can fly yourselves.”
Are we junior pilots? you ask. Why, no. If there are a couple of new readers out there, welcome! That mutant thing I mentioned? We’re 98 percent human, 2 percent bird. We have wings; we fly. Keep reading. You’ll get it all soon.
“Yeah,” I said, still feeling doubtful. Mostly I just wanted to turn, run, and throw myself into the air. That sweet rush of freedom, feeling my powerful wings lift me off the ground . . .