School's Out- Forever (Maximum Ride 2)

“Let’s just say it’s insider information,” the leader of the Erasers said, hearing the joy in his own voice. He felt his heart speed up with anticipation, his fingers itching to close around a skinny bird-kid neck. Then he started to morph, watching his hands.

The frail human skin was soon covered with tough fur; ragged claws erupted from his fingertips. Morphing had hurt at first—his lupine DNA wasn’t seamlessly grafted into his stem cells, like the other Erasers’. So there were some kinks to be worked out, a rough, painful transition period he’d had to go through.

But he wasn’t complaining. It would all be worth it the moment he got his claws on Max and choked the life right out of her. He imagined the look of surprise on her face, how she would struggle. Then he’d watch the light slowly fade out of her beautiful brown eyes. She wouldn’t think she was so hot then. Wouldn’t look down on him or, worse, ignore him. Just because he wasn’t a mutant freak like them, he’d been nothing to her. All she cared about was the flock this and the flock that. That was all his father, Jeb, cared about too.

Once Max was dead, that would all change.

And he, Ari, would be the number-one son. He’d come back from the dead for it.

4

By dusk we’d crossed over a chunk of Pennsylvania, and a thin spit of ocean twined below us, between New Jersey and Delaware. “Look at this, kids, we’re learning geography!” Fang called out with mock excitement. Since we’d never been to school, most of what we’d learned was from television or the Internet. And, these days, from the little know-it-all Voice in my head.

Soon we’d be over Washington DC. Which was pretty much where my plan stopped. For tonight, all I was worried about was food and a place to sleep. Tomorrow I would have time to study the info we’d gotten from the Institute. I’d been so thrilled when we’d hacked into the Institute’s computers. Pages of information about our actual parents had scrolled across the screen. I’d managed to print out a bunch of it before we’d been interrupted.

Who knew—by this time tomorrow we might be on someone’s doorstep, about to come face-to-face with the parents who had lost us so long ago. It sent shivers down my spine.

I was tired. We were all tired. So when I did an automatic 360 and saw a weird dark cloud heading toward us, my groan was deep and sincere.

“Fang! What’s that? Behind us, at ten o’clock.”

He frowned, checking it out. “Too fast for a storm cloud. Too small, too quiet for choppers. Not birds—too lumpy.” He looked at me. “I give up. What is it?”

“Trouble,” I said grimly. “Angel! Get out of the way. Guys, heads up! We’ve got company!”

We swung around to face whatever was coming. Fast!

“Flying monkeys?” The Gasman called out a guess. “Like The Wizard of Oz?”

It dawned on me then. “No,” I said tersely. “Worse. Flying Erasers.”

5

Yep. Flying Erasers. These Erasers had wings, which was a new and revolting development on the Eraser front. Half-wolf, half-human, and now half-avian? That couldn’t be a happy mix. And they were headed our way at about eighty miles an hour.

“Erasers, version 6.5,” Fang said.

Split up, Max. Think 3-D, said my Voice.

“Split up!” I ordered. “Nudge! Gazzy! Nine o’clock! Angel, up top. Move it! Iggy and Fang, flank me from below!

Fang, ditch the dog!”

“Nooo, Fang!” screeched Angel.

The Erasers slowed as we fanned out, their huge, heavy-looking wings backbeating the air. It was almost pitch-black now, with no moon and no city lights below. I was still able to see their teeth, their pointed fangs, their smiles of excitement. They were on a hunt—it was party time!

Here we go, I thought, feeling adrenaline speeding up my heart. I launched myself at the biggest one, swinging my feet under me to smash against his chest. He rolled back but righted himself and came at me again, claws slashing the air.

I bobbed, feeling his paws whip right past my face. I turned sharply just in time to have a hard, hairy fist crash into my head.

I dropped ten feet quickly, then surged back up on the offensive.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Fang clap both hands hard against an Eraser’s furry ears. The Eraser screamed, holding his head, and started to lose altitude. Fang had Total in his backpack. He rolled out of harm’s way, and I took his place, catching another Eraser in the mouth with a hard side kick.

I grabbed one of his arms, twisting it violently in back of him. It was harder in the air, but then I heard a loud pop.

The Eraser screamed and dropped, careening downward until he caught himself and flew clumsily away, one arm dangling.