Nevermore: The Final Maximum Ride Adventure (Maximum Ride 8)

I was stuck in an in-between place, not sure

whether I was in biology class or back at the School. Student voices and whitecoat voices bounced around in my mind.

Then Dr. Williams’s face materialized all up in my grill. “Max, Dylan, how’s it going so far?”

I nodded, trying to slow my breathing—I hadn’t realized I’d been hyperventilating. “I’m okay… really.” I looked up at his face, at the four wrinkles on his forehead, his almost calculating hazel eyes.

It was all somewhat… familiar.

Alarm bells went off in my head, wailing, Danger danger danger! My alarm bells were not to be taken lightly.

Was it possible that Dr. Williams was a whitecoat?

“Actually, I feel a bit sick,” I said brusquely. “Come on, Dylan. Iggy!”

Iggy twitched on his stool and turned in the direction of my voice.

“C’mon, Ig,” I repeated, ignoring Dylan’s curious glance. “Time to go.”

“Max, the boys seem fine,” Dr. Williams said. Concerned or threatening, concerned or threatening? It was a question I had to ask myself way too often.

“No, I feel sick, too,” Dylan said. Good boy.

Iggy wove through the maze of lab tables. “Gonna barf,” he informed Dr. Williams. “Gotta go.”

I strode toward the door, itching to hightail it out of there.

“Oh, no, you don’t, Maximum,” said Dr. Williams in a steely voice.

And here we go. I sighed.

I leaned forward onto the balls of my feet, ready to spring into action. Dylan moved ever so slightly, placing himself a bit in front of me and in a good fight position. I felt Iggy tense up. Tapping his forearm twice, I breathed, “Little over six feet. Bit of a belly. Dead center.” Nobody but Iggy—and maybe Dylan—would be able to hear me. Ig inclined his chin the tiniest bit. He understood.

Dr. Williams shuffled past the cardboard box of chicken bags to his desk, where he brought out some Post-its and started scribbling. I watched him the entire time. If he charged, I’d drag Iggy and Dylan to the left, roll over the empty lab table, and shoot out the door. If he yanked a gun out of his geeky teacher pants, we’d dive behind the table, chuck some scalpels for good luck, and then shoot out the door.

“So what’s the story, Doctor?” I asked Dr. Williams, crossing my arms. Everyone in the classroom was staring at us now. “Wait, I know—your plan is to make my life miserable? Or possibly destroy us?”

Dr. Williams smiled thinly. “What do you mean, Max? I just don’t want you to get in trouble for walking out of class.” He held out three hall passes.

Well, that was… unexpected. I narrowed my eyes at him, but he didn’t falter.

“Let’s go, boys.” I shrugged and took the passes, and we walked out of the classroom.

My alarm bells never stopped ringing.

21

“MAX’S LIFE IS in danger.”

Dylan’s breath quickened. Okay, now Dr. Williams had his attention.

“But you can keep her safe, Dylan. All you have to do is cooperate with us.”

After they’d fled the disastrous dissection lab, Dylan had realized that he’d left one of his textbooks behind, so he had gone back to get it.

Big mistake.

The other students were already gone, leaving only the biology teacher behind. Now Dylan was alone in the lab with him and the chicken carcasses, and it looked like he was, as Max would say, in deep, deep sneakers.