Military Teen idol
Medical personnel Life coach
So this would be a good time to examine your career goals.
Last time I checked, more than 28 million people had hit this blog. Way to go, people. Save yourselves. Save your brothers and sisters. Don’t let the whitecoats get you.
And if you see any flying kids, keep your mouth shut.
—Fang, from somewhere in America
61
I was shaking after Fang and I fought. It’s not that we never fought—we did all the time. But not like this. Thi
s was the maddest I’d ever seen him. After he took off, I stayed outside a minute, until I could paste a fake smile on my face. No sense in worrying the others.
When I went back inside, the flock and Ari and Total were all sprawled on the furniture or floor. They had that glazed look that comes from getting all the food you want, for once. I examined Ari. He was in a chair by himself. None of the others were anywhere near him. His clothes were still covered in blood.
I raided a closet and threw a flannel shirt at him. He looked up in surprise. “Thanks.”
“Okay, who wants first watch?” I said.
“Where’s Fang?” Gazzy asked.
“He went out for a while. He’ll be back,” I said shortly. Of course he would be back.
“I’ll take first watch,” Ari said.
I made an executive decision. “No, that’s okay. I’ll do it. The rest of you get some sleep.” I didn’t meet Ari’s eyes.
While the others slept, I went through the fridge and pantry and took everything that wouldn’t spoil and wasn’t too heavy. I repacked all of our packs and set them close to the door. I walked around silently, turning off lights, then went outside and flew up onto the snow-covered roof.
I perched by the brick chimney, which radiated heat.
Everything was quiet.
Ages later, Fang returned. I tried not to breathe a sigh of relief. I hadn’t been that worried, anyway. He flew up, saw me, and landed, flapping his wings for balance as he tried to find a place on the roof.
None of us are real big with the apologies, the heartfelt hugs. I glanced at him, then went back to keeping watch, doing regular 360 scans, listening, waiting.
“Twenty-eight million people have clicked on the blog,” he said.
Good Lord. “Huh.”
“I’m putting everything I know about what’s going on out there,” he went on. “Maybe if enough people get a heads-up, they can stop whatever’s happening.”
Stopping it is your job, Max.
“I thought we were supposed to stop it,” I said.
“What, with one hand tied behind your back?” Fang scoffed. “You don’t have to save the world, Max, no matter what they tell you.”
For some reason that stung—like he didn’t think I could do it. I’d always thought he’d be on board for anything I had to do.
“So now you and your blog are going to do it? I can go to bed and sleep in?” The words came out more caustic than I intended.
Fang shot me a sideways glance, his eyes unreadable. He shrugged and looked away.