You can’t risk losing the use of your hand, said the Voice.
For some reason I was finding it particularly annoying today. Why? I thought, sarcasm dripping. You think I can’t save the world with one hand tied behind my back?
Dr. Martinez looked hesitant, too cautious to take risks.
Suddenly Fang grabbed my left hand and turned it over, baring my forearm on the table. The angry red scars from when I had sawed at my arm with a broken seashell flamed up at us, puckered and ugly. Heat flushed my face, and I tried to pull my arm away.
“Oh, that,” I muttered, aware of Dr. Martinez’s wide, horrified eyes.
“She tried to cut it out herself,” Fang said tersely. “Almost bled out, on a beach. Take it out, so she won’t be such a moron again. Or at least not in that same way. Maybe in a different way,” he acknowledged realistically.
I frowned fiercely at him, hating the look of consternation on Dr. Martinez’s face. Then I glared at her, daring her to express pity. I swear, I would knock their two heads together if—
“I can try,” she said.
27
“Where’s Angel?” Gazzy’s whisper was barely a breath in Nudge’s ear.
“Don’t know,” she breathed back.
The truck stopped, and the back doors opened. It was daylight. The Flyboys riding in the back with them climbed out, then slammed the heavy metal doors, making Nudge’s ears ring.
Ages later, the doors opened again, and a Flyboy threw in some pieces of bread and some fruit that was half rotten. The doors slammed shut again. There was creepy laughter outside.
Despite the blackness inside the truck, Nudge could see pretty well, and so could Gazzy. They wriggled over to the pieces of bread. Nudge was so hungry she felt sick. Even with their hands tied behind their backs, they managed to wolf down every bit of the stale bread and all but the grossest parts of the fruit.
“When we get out of this, every one of those robots is gonna have fang marks on ’em,” muttered Total. His paws were trussed with duct tape.
“We’ll never get out of this one,” said Iggy. “I have a really bad feeling.”
Nudge couldn’t remember hearing Iggy sound so defeated. He was one of the older kids, like Fang and Max. Most the time she forgot he was blind. He was strong, powerful, and a mean fighter. Hearing him say that made Nudge feel as though a cold fist gripped her fast-beating heart.
“We’ll get out.” Nudge wished for the thousandth time that the doors would burst open and Max and Fang would be standing there.
Iggy was silent.
“We have to find Angel,” Gazzy whispered. “We can’t let them do...all the stuff they did to her last time.”
Angel had been a mess when they’d rescued her last time. It had taken her weeks to recover. And since then, she’d been different somehow. Sadder. Quieter.
The thought of what they might already be doing to Angel made Nudge shiver.
“We need a plan,” she said under her breath. “Max and Fang would make a plan. Let’s think.”
“Why don’t we ask Santa Claus?” Iggy sounded bitter. “Or the Easter Bunny?”
“I say we just bite ’em,” Total said. “They open the doors, we’re on ’em, snarling and fangs and everything. Or I could rush their legs, trip ’em, and then you guys attack them.”
“We don’t have fangs,” Gazzy explained patiently, sounding tired and without hope.
“No, but we have teeth,” said Nudge. “We should have been chewing off the tape all this time! Come on! Total will chew on mine, I’ll try to get Gazzy’s off, and Gazzy, you work on Iggy’s. Then we’ll kick some Flyboy butt!”
With a new bloom of hope, Nudge scooted across the dirty metal floor so that Total could reach her hands, in back of her.
She’d just felt his first whiskery approach when the metal doors slammed open again, and five Flyboys climbed in. They walked to the front of the truck, not caring if they kicked the bird kids on the way.
Nudge lay very still, her head resting on the floor. So much for her plan.