“Here they are! My mom and dad!” Gazzy shouted. “One sixty-seven Cortlandt Lane in Alexandria, Virginia! Angel, look! This is them. It’s totally amazing. It’s a miracle. They look like me! And you too, Angel!”
Angel stared at the picture silently for a moment, and then her face crumpled and she was sobbing. I instantly reached out and held her small body close, stroking her hair. Angel’s usually no softie, and when I felt her shake with sobs, my chest ached with her pain. Talk about your Kodak moment. Or Fuji. Whatever.
“There’s lots of numbers and nonsense printed all over these pages too,” Fang said, bringing me back to the here and now.
I saw the same thing. “Why scramble just some of the information? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Who cares?” Gazzy yelled happily. “I found my mom and dad! YAA-HOO! I take back being mad at them!”
Fang, Gazzy, and Angel had hit the jackpot, but so far, Iggy and I hadn’t. And Nudge still wasn’t sure if her ’rents were out west or not.
“Iggy! Iggy! Your mom! Oh, aww—. Says your dad is deceased,” the Gasman reported. “Sorry about your dad. But your mom looks neat.” He started to describe her out loud.
So then there was just one outsider, only one of us without a mom and dad in the files from the Institute. You guessed it: moi. I still belonged to nobody, nowhere.
I’d like to say that I’m such a good person, such a team player, that I didn’t feel totally left out, heartachey, just about ripped apart and destroyed—but I really am trying to get the lying under control. I did feel all those terrible things, and a whole lot more.
But I put on a brave face, and smiled, and oohed and aahed and reread files, being happy for my guys—who, face it, hadn’t had much happiness yet in their hard, short, weird lives.
But my mind-like-a-steel-trap couldn’t let something go. “So why scramble this other information?” I finally asked again. Just to say something else, to put myself somewhere besides the throne of pain.
“Maybe it’s information the whitecoats never wanted anyone to find out,” Fang said in the hollow Twilight Zone-y voice he used sometimes when things got unusually weird—as opposed to regular weird.
“Like—funding,” I said, thinking. “Or hospitals who gave them babies. Other messed-up scientists who help them. Like the keys to the whole Evil Empire.”
“Holy Joe,” said Iggy, sitting up excitedly. “If we had that stuff, we could blow them wide open! We could send it to a newspaper. That fat guy could make a movie—like Bowling for Columbine or something.”
My heart did flip-flops just thinking about it.
“I don’t care about that stuff,” said Nudge. “I just want to find my mom and dad once and for all. Wait, wait! This is me!” Holding her breath, she examined the information surrounding N88034gnh (Monique). “Know what?” Nudge quickly glanced from page to page. “All these addresses are in Virginia and Maryland and Washington, DC. That’s all kind of close together, isn’t it? Plus, DC is where the government is, right?”
“This is the coolest thing ever,” said Iggy, a far-off look coming over his face. “First we meet our parents. Joyful reunion, hugs, kisses. Then we go destroy the School, the Institute, all those sons of b— I mean, all those jerks who messed us up. That would be so great. Like, we could wipe out the Erasers, all of ’em, at once. Way cool!”
“So what are we going to do?” the Gasman asked, suddenly very serious. “For real?”
“I want to do whatever Max does,” said Angel. “And so do Celeste and Total.”
Total wriggled, hearing his name, and licked Angel’s hand. Whatever had been done to him at the Institute, he didn’t seem to be holding any grudges. Now he licked Celeste.
That poor bear needed a bath in a big way. We all did. I looked at the troops. We were safe, for now. We were together. A wave of thankfulness came over me.
“We go to DC,” I said finally. “And take baths. And start tracking your parents down. We have all their addresses, right?”
“Woo-hoo!” the Gasman shouted, slapping Iggy high five, taking him by surprise.
I smiled at them. I loved them all so much and I wanted them to be happy. I could do this for them. But inside, I felt as if black holes were eating through my chest. I had killed someone today. Maybe my own brother. Now we were going to start finding out about our pasts, maybe the meaning of our lives, and I didn’t know if that’s what I wanted. And only partly because I had no idea who my mother and father were.
But none of that mattered, right? These guys were my family. I owed it to them to try to help their dreams come true.
Even if it killed me.
Very late that night, or maybe it was early in the morning, I tried to talk to the Voice. Maybe, just maybe, it would deign to answer me.
I have two questions for you, okay? Just two questions. No, make that three questions. Okay. Where are my mom and dad? How come I’m the only one with no files at all? Why am I having these terrible headaches? And who are you? Are you an enemy that’s inside me? Or are you my friend?
The Voice came right back to me: That’s more than three questions, Max. And sometimes whether someone is your friend or enemy is all in how you look at it. But if you must know, I consider myself your friend, a good friend who loves you very much. No one loves you more than I do, Maximum. Now listen. I ask the questions, not you. You’re just here, and the Voice actually chuckled, for the ride. For the incredible, indescribable Maximum Ride.
EPILOGUE