Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports (Maximum Ride 3)

Then all the remaining Erasers seemed to fold in on themselves, as if programmed, and dropped out of sight. A long, long time later, the flock saw the small poofs of dust and dirt showing that they’d finally hit the canyon floor.

“Well, that was different,” Iggy said.

“And so gross!” Nudge said, still brushing Eraser shards off herself.

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“What are you thinking about?” Fang’s quiet voice barely carried to me over the crackling of the fire.

I’m thinking about how much easier it was when everyone just did what I told them, I thought sourly. “Wondering if the kids are okay,” I said.

“That place was way secluded and easy to defend. And if the Erasers are all dead...” Fang pulled a stick out of the fire and blew on a crisp piece of roasted rabbit.

Yes, rabbit. We’d caught it, and now we were going to eat it. I won’t go into all the steps in between. The thing is, when you have to survive, you have to survive. I hope you never need to find that out for yourself.

He handed the stick to me, and I started gnawing, grinning at how surprisingly few etiquette rules seemed to apply here. Then I started laughing.

Fang looked at me.

“Thanksgiving at Anne’s,” I said. “Sit up straight, napkin in lap, wait for everyone to be served, say grace, take small amounts, use the salad fork, no burping.”

I waved a hand around the dusty cave, where we squatted by a fire, tearing off strips of Thumper with our teeth.

Fang gave a half smile and nodded. “At least it isn’t desert rat.”

Okay, you sissies in the back, the ones going “Eew!” Let’s see you go without anything to eat for three days, especially if you’re a biological anomaly who needs three thousand calories a day minimum, and then someone presents you with a hot, smoky, charred piece of rat au jus. You’d scarf it down so fast you’d burn your tongue. There would be no quibbling about ketchup either.

“You know what they say about rat,” I began.

“Everyone gets a drumstick,” Fang and I finished together.

I looked at Fang, his sharp, angular face cast with shadows from the fire. I’d grown up with him, I trusted no one more than him, I depended on him. And now we felt a little like strangers.

I moved away from the fire and sat down with my back against the cave wall. Fang wiped his hands on his jeans and came to sit next to me. Outside, it was nighttime, the stars blotted out by thick, rolling clouds. This place probably got only a few inches of rain a year, and it looked like it was about to get some. I hoped the rest of the flock was curled up safe and warm where we had left them.

“What are we doing here, Fang?”

“The kids want us to find a place to settle down.”

“What about the School and saving the world?” I asked with scalpel-like delicacy.

“We have to quit playing their game,” Fang said softly, watching the fire. “We have to remove ourselves from the equation.”

“I can’t,” I admitted in frustration. “I—just have to do this.”

“Max, you can change your mind.” His voice was like autumn leaves dropping lightly onto the ground.

“I don’t know how.”

Then my throat felt tight, and I rubbed my fists against my eyes. I dropped my face onto my arms, crossed over my knees. This sucked! I wanted to be back with the oth—

Fang’s hand gently smoothed my hair off my neck. My breath froze in my chest, and every sense seemed hyperalert. His hand stroked my hair again, so softly, and then trailed across my neck and shoulder and down my back, making me shiver.

I looked up. “What the heck are you doing?”

“Helping you change your mind,” he whispered, and then he leaned over, tilted my chin up, and kissed me.

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