“We’re here to find out what we can about the Institute,” I reminded both of them. “I’m sorry, Iggy, but maybe you’ll get a little more used to it soon. And Nudge, this isn’t a pleasure trip. Our goal is to find the Institute.”
“How are we gonna do that?” Angel asked.
“I have a plan,” I said firmly. God, I was really going to have to get all this lying under control.
76
Basically, if you put a fence around New York City, you’d have the world’s biggest nontraveling circus.
When we woke up at dawn the next morning, there were already joggers, bicyclers, even horseback riders weaving their way along the miles and miles of trails in Central Park. We slipped down out of the trees and casually wandered the paths.
Within an hour, speed skaters were rushing by, street performers were setting up their props, and the paths were almost crowded with dog walkers and moms pushing jogging strollers.
“That lady has six white poodles!” Nudge hissed behind her hand. “Who needs six white poodles?”
“Maybe she sells them,” I suggested, “to kids with big wide eyes.”
“Something smells awesome,” Iggy said, swiveling his head to detect the source. “What is that? It’s over there.” He pointed off to my left.
“There’s a guy selling food,” I said. “It says honey-roasted peanuts.”
“I am so there,” said Iggy. “Can I have some money?”
Iggy, Angel, and I went to buy six small bags of honey-roasted peanuts (they really did smell like heaven), and Fang, Nudge, and the Gasman went to look at a clown selling balloons.
We were walking over to join them when something about the clown caught my eye. She was watching a sleek, dark-haired guy strolling down a path. Their gazes met.
A chill went down my back. Just like that, my enjoyment of the day burst. I was swept into fear, anger, and an intense self-preservation reflex.
“Iggy, heads up,” I whispered. “Get the others.”
Beside me, Angel was wound tight, her hand clenching mine hard. We walked fast toward the others. Fang, doing an automatic sweep of the area, saw my urgent expression. In the next moment he had clamped a hand on Nudge’s and the Gasman’s shoulders and spun them around to walk quickly away.
We met on the path and sped up our pace. One glance behind me showed the dark-haired guy following us. He was joined by a woman who looked just as intent and
powerful as he did.
A flow of heroically suppressed swear words ran through my brain. I scanned the scenery for escape routes, a place where we could take off, a place to duck and cover.
They were gaining on us.
“Run!” I said. The six of us can run faster than most grown men, but the Erasers had also been genetically enhanced. If we couldn’t find an out, we were done for.
Now there were three of them—they’d been joined by another male-model type. They had broken into an easy trot and were closing the space between us.
Paths merged into other paths, sometimes narrowing, sometimes widening. Again and again, we almost crashed into bikers or skaters going too fast to swerve.
“Four of them,” Fang said. “Pour it on, guys!”
We sped up. They were maybe twenty yards behind us. Hungry grins marred their good-looking faces.
“Six of them!” I said.
“They’re too fast,” Fang informed me unnecessarily. “Maybe we should fly.”
I bit my lip, keeping a tight grip on Angel’s hand. What to do, what to do. They were closer, and even closer—
“Eight of them!” said Fang.