This struck the Erasers as funny, and they chuckled, shoulders shaking, while Nudge’s brain reeled. Last two alive? The others were dead? Their house had burned down?
She began to cry and commanded herself to stop but couldn’t. Then she was weeping like a baby.
She glanced anxiously at Fang, but he was watching Ari, his jaw tight, his hands coiled into fists.
“Pinwheel,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth.
Ari frowned, obviously wondering what pinwheel meant, his large, beautiful eyes narrowing.
“Cholla first,” Nudge muttered. She couldn’t believe she was being so brave, almost like Fang. The rest of the flock was dead? It couldn’t be! It just couldn’t!
“Count of three,” Fang said evenly. Which meant count of one.
Ari leaned over, lightning fast, and cuffed Fang’s shoulder. “Shut up!”
“One,” Fang said, regaining his balance, and Nudge instantly lunged forward, shoving the second Eraser in the chest as hard as she could. Taken off guard, he staggered backward, right into the sharp spines of a cholla cactus. Cursing, the Eraser waved his arms but landed smack on top of its three-inch needles, shrieking like a train wreck in the making. A lovely, musical train wreck.
In the next second, Nudge launched herself into the air sideways, praying that Fang would catch her.
He did, grabbing her arms and swinging her, following her momentum. Her feet kicked outward, smashing Ari in the side of the neck, almost knocking him over, and leaving him choking and gagging.
Then Fang swung Nudge as hard as he could, spinning her through the air as she snapped out her wings and beat them so fast that she stayed airborne.
“You’re gonna die, mutant,” Ari snarled, leaping for Fang as he pushed off the ground. He grabbed Fang’s leg, and they both fell heavily. Then Ari was sitting on Fang’s chest, punching him. Nudge gasped and put her hand over her mouth as she saw blood erupt from Fang’s nose. The second Eraser kicked at Fang’s chest, hard, over and over, thunk, thunk.
Nudge was freaking—this was a disaster. The people in the trailer park were bound to notice her, hovering in front of the trees. Fang took another hit, his head jerking sideways, and then he spit a stream of bloody saliva right into Ari’s face. Ari roared and brought both hands down onto Fang’s chest with enough force to snap his ribs. Nudge heard Fang’s breath leave him with a whoosh.
What to do? If she went down to the ground she would be dead meat, and so would Fang. If only she could—
Then she remembered the cans of spray paint on the ground. Maybe they were empty. Maybe not.
In an instant, she had dropped down, grabbed up the nearest can, and leaped back into the air, out of reach. She shook the can hard, then dropped a few feet and aimed it right at Ari’s face. After a heart-stopping wheeze, green paint arced through the air. Ari screamed and jumped to his feet, his clawed hands swiping at his eyes.
Fang leaped up and took off faster than she’d ever seen him move. Nudge managed to get another Eraser in the face, and then the paint ran out. Nudge threw it hard at Ari’s head, where it bounced off his healthy, thick, green hair.
Then she and Fang were in the air, well above the Erasers. Ari was still standing, but his pal was on the ground, swearing and trying to wipe paint out of his eyes. The one who’d finally gotten off the cactus was way scratched up. Between the red blood and green paint, they looked kind of Christmassy.
“You’re dead, freaks,” Ari snarled, his eyes streaming with tears, his long yellow teeth seeming too large for his mouth.
“Oh, like you’re not a freak yourself,” Nudge said meanly. “Try looking in a mirror, dog boy!”
Ari fumbled in his jacket, then pulled out a gun. Nudge and Fang rocketed out of there as fast as they could. A bullet whistled right past Nudge’s ear. She’d been that close to being deaf and dead.
When they were safely away, Nudge said breathlessly, “I’m sorry, Fang. It was my fault you got hurt.”
Fang spit more blood out and watched it fall a long, long way to the ground. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said. “You’re just a kid.”
“Let’s go home,” she said.
“They said it burned down,” Fang answered, wiping blood from his lip.
“No, I mean the home with the hawks,” said Nudge.
45
Angel stared and stared and stared at Jeb Batchelder.
She knew who he was. She had been only four years old the last time she’d seen him, but still, she knew his face, his smile. She remembered Jeb tying her shoes, playing Old Maid with her, making popcorn. She remembered hurting herself and Jeb picking her up to hold her tight. Max had filled in for her how good Jeb had been, how he’d saved them from the bad people at the School. How he’d disappeared and they thought he was dead.