Angel (Maximum Ride 7)

“Cheerful little ditty,” Fang said. Maya nodded solemnly as she sang along. Then a noise overhead made Fang look up, in time to see thousands of colorful flyers dropping out of a helicopter. One floated close to him and he snatched it out of the air.

“The Enhanced People’s Manifesto,” he read.

All around him, the crowd began chanting: “Save the planet! Kill the humans! Save the planet! Kill the humans!”

Onstage, Beth beamed lovingly.

49

BACK AT THE hotel, Fang pored over the manifesto.

“I can’t believe they’re saying this stuff in black and white,” Kate said, her eyes wide.

“Can’t they be arrested for this?” Holden asked.

Fang frowned. “I don’t know. They could say that it’s just talk, not an actual threat. There’s no evidence that they’re really prepared to do any of it.”

Maya waved the manifesto in the air. “Do we need more evidence than flyers saying they’re going to kill everyone? It’s all right here!”

Fang sighed. “I know.”

The manifesto fit on the front of a single sheet of paper, but it was a doozy. It stated that the Doomsday Group planned to take over several countries, kill their populations, and then repopulate them with enhanced people, the so-called Seventy-seventh Generation.

It said that the apocalypse was coming—no news there—and offered tips about what to do when it hit.

It talked about a dark period of chaos and peril that would give way to a paradise in which all enhanced people would live together in peace and harmony.

“I’m so sure,” Maya said. “Not unless everyone’s going to be tranquilized forever.”

“They just might be,” Fang cautioned, and she frowned. “If they’ve managed to brainwash this many people, then who knows? They could easily tranquilize whole populations.”

“Look at this,” Star said, pointing. “They really do mean only enhanced people. It says here that people who fly shouldn’t risk landing on top of tall buildings.”

“ ‘Those of you who might lay eggs,’ ” Kate read, “ ‘will need to prepare a safe incubation container. Go to our website for sources.’ Oh, my God. These people are crazy!”

“There were truckloads of those Gen 77 kids at the rally,” Ratchet said. “I’ve never seen so many freaks in one place.”

“Welcome to my world,” Fang said. “Okay. We need more info. Like, when is all this supposed to happen, for instance?”

Maya rested her head on her hand. “Do you think Armageddon can wait till morning? I’m wiped.”

Eyes closed, brown hair tousled around her shoulders, Maya looked more like Max than ever. But… Fang could now see minuscule differences: the way Maya tilted her head, the way her voice dropped instead of rising at the end of a question. True, Max and Maya were much more alike than they were different, but Fang was starting to think of Maya as truly being a unique person in and of herself, instead of as just a copy of Max. It was weird. Fang had loved Max for so long that it almost disturbed him to think about any other girl at all.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling bone tired and confused. He’d thought taking out this Doomsday Group would be a good mission, a worthwhile project for him and his gang. And he was right. But after today, he had to admit an uncomfortable truth: As much as he’d wanted to operate on his own, this mission was way too big for him and five new crew members, only one of whom had any real fighting experience. Preventing the destruction of whole populations of people was simply beyond the scope of his gang.

That left him just one option.

Fang opened his bleary eyes, scanning the room until he found the clock. Past midnight. Getting yelled at by Max would have to wait until morning.

50

I WOKE UP, feeling warm on one side and cold on the other. The warm side rested against Dylan, and the cold side faced the open desert, which was aglow in pink from the sunrise.

I decided to get the fire started for the others. I untangled myself from Dylan, feeling the usual embarrassment and confusion that I often had about him. But I’m great at not thinking about mushy stuff, so I pushed it out of my mind and scooted over to the fire. Automatically, I did a head count, like I’d done just about every day for as long as I can remember.

Gazzy, Nudge, Dylan, Angel, Iggy, Total… Ella?

No Ella.