“You too? I’m going nuts,” I admitted. “It’s flashback city. And I have—” I started to say “a headache,” but then didn’t want to complain or have Fang tell me to see a doctor again “an overwhelming desire to set all these animals free.”
“Free to do what?” Fang asked drily.
“Just to be out, to escape,” I said.
“Out in the middle of Manhattan?” Fang pointed out. “Free to live without protection, without someone bringing them food, with no idea of how to take care of themselves? They’re better off here. Unless you want to fly to Greenland with a polar bear on your back.”
Logic is just so incredibly annoying sometimes. I shot Fang a look and went to round up everyone.
“Can we leave?” I asked them, trying not to whine. Very unbecoming in a leader. “I just—want to get out of here.”
“You look kind of green,” the Gasman said with interest.
I was starting to feel nauseated. “Yeah. Can we split before I upchuck in front of all these impressionable kids?”
“Over here,” Fang said, motioning us to a big crevice between two huge manufactured rocks. It led back to a path that must have been for the zookeepers—it was empty and roped off.
I managed to get out of there without crashing, screaming, or throwing up. What a nice change.
79
“You know what I like about New York?” the Gasman said, noisily chewing his kosher hot dog. “It’s full of New Yorkers who are freakier than we are.”
“So we blend?” Iggy asked.
I glanced over at him. He was licking an ice-cream cone that was like a mini him: tall, thin, and vanilla. He was already just over six feet tall—not bad for a fourteen-year-old. With his height, his pale skin, and his light reddish-blond hair, I’d always felt he was the most visible of all of us. But here on this broad avenue, we were surrounded by gorgeous supermodels, punk rockers, Goths, and leatherites, suits, students, people from every other country—and, well, yeah, six kids with bulky windbreakers, ratty clothes, and questionable hygiene didn’t really stick out.
“More or less,” I said. “Of course, that won’t help with the Erasers.” Automatically, I did a perimeter sweep, a 360 around us to pick up signs of trouble.
“Speaking of which,” Fang said, “we seem to be dealing with version 6.0.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” I said. “This year’s crop looks more human. And there are females. Which is a bummer.” Even as I said the words, I was examining every face we passed, looking for a hint of feral sleekness, a cruel light in the eyes, a hard slash of a mouth.
“Yeah. We all know how bloodthirsty females are. Dirty fighting and so on,” Fang said.
I rolled my eyes. What a comedian.
“Can I have a burrito?” Nudge asked as we approached yet another street vendor. She faced me, bouncing backward down the sidewalk. “What’s a nish? I can have a burrito, right?”
“Ka-nish,” I corrected her. “It’s like a square of mashed potatoes, fried.” I was scanning every building—for what, I didn’t know. A big sign that said The Institute?
“What’s sauerkraut?” Angel asked.
“You don’t want it,” I said. “Trust me.”
We each got a burrito, hot and wrapped in foil.
“I like being able to just buy food as we walk along,” Nudge said happily. “If you walk a couple blocks, there’s someone selling food. And delis. I love delis! They’re everywhere! Everywhere you go, there’s everything you need: food, delis, banks, subway stops, buses, cool stores, fruit stands right on the street. This is the best place, I’m telling you. Maybe we should always live here.”
“It would certainly be convenient for the Erasers,” I said. “They wouldn’t have to track us down in the middle of nowhere.”
Nudge frowned, and Angel took my hand.
“But you’re right, Nudge,” I said, sorry for raining on her parade. “I know what you mean.” But it was costing money, and we were running out. And we had a mission.
Suddenly, I stopped dead, as if I’d been poleaxed.
Fang examined my face. “That pain?” he asked quietly, glancing around as if planning where to take me if I suddenly crumpled.