“I disagree.” In an instant I launched myself at it, trying to knock it off balance. It was the second-to-last model, and I knocked its weapon out of its hands.
But not fast enough to avoid another Flyboy clocking me in the head with the butt of its gun. I staggered as a starburst of pain exploded behind my ear. A second later, warm blood started running down into my collar.
My flock sprang into action. Nudge jumped high in the air, whipping out her wings to hover below the electrified net but above the fray. Total chomped down hard on a Flyboy’s ankle, and I could hear his fangs hit the metal below the thin layer of skin.
“The base of their spines!” I heard a voice call from behind.
I spun to see Jeb wading through the crowd toward us, dodging punches and kicks. “Hit the Flyboys at the base of their spines,” he said. “It’s a design flaw.”
I had zero reason to trust him, despite all his yapping about being my dad, blah blah blah. Still, I had nothing to lose. Wheeling, I escaped my Flyboy and whipped around in back of another one. As hard as I could, I aimed a flying sideways kick with both feet right at its tailbone area.
Crack! Its legs crumpled, and it snapped forward from the hips, unable to move. A couple seconds later, the red glow in its eyes faded.
Huh. Whadaya know.
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Then it was like a flashback to when I was eleven years old, fighting side by side with Jeb. He was the one who’d taught us to fight so well, to win at any cost. It was Jeb who’d taught us to never play fair, never telegraph our punches, always use any means to win a battle. Now, with him taking out Flyboys right next to me, it was just like those training days,
like I was a little kid again, pretending he was my dad.
“Block it!” Jeb yelled, yanking me off memory lane. Instinctively I threw my arm up in time to block a Flyboy’s overhand punch.
“Nudge! Angel! Attack the base of their spines!” I shouted. “Snap them!”
The fight began to turn in our favor then. As long as we could get behind a Flyboy, we could take it out about 80 percent of the time, which was all we needed.
Some of the mutants, however, didn’t seem to have gotten Angel’s latest memo and were still fighting one another, and us too.
Behind me, Ari was using his enormous strength to literally toss smaller mutants over his head into the mosh pit of death that made up the castle courtyard. He saw me snap a Flyboy’s back, and he spun to do the same. The Flyboy managed to catch Ari with a hard punch under his jaw, and I saw his head jerk upward.
Roaring with fury, Ari righted himself and lunged at his attacker...only to sink to his knees slowly, a puzzled look on his face.
“Cover me!” I shouted at Nudge, Angel, and Total, and sprang to Ari’s side.
I grabbed him under one arm and tried to help him stand. I couldn’t get him up.
“Max?” he said, sounding confused.
“You hurt? You get shot? Where?” I demanded.
He looked down at his shirt and jacket. There were no spreading rosettes of blood. He shook his head. “I just...”
He glanced up at me, and there he was—seven-year-old Ari, the little kid who used to follow me around. I saw him there clearly in those eyes.
“I just...Oh, Max,” Ari said, and then he slumped against me, eyes still open, weight so heavy on me that I fell to my knees next to him. I stared at his face, shook his shoulder.
“Ari!” I said. “Ari! Come on, snap out of it! Please, Ari?”
All around us, the battle thrashed on, but Ari was silent.
“Ari?” Horrified, I pressed two fingers against his neck, feeling for a pulse.
Ari’s time had come. He had expired.
Right here, right now, in my arms.
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