Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports (Maximum Ride 3)

I tried not to breathe at all, tried not to swallow, tried to conceal my shock. Then something occurred to me: We’d gotten Total in New York. “What about Total?” I demanded triumphantly. “Was he a dream too?”

Jeb looked at me gently. “Yes, sweetheart. He was a dream too. There is no Total the talking dog.”

He stepped aside so we could all see the bed across from us. It was empty. The sheets were smooth and taut and white. Total had never been there, had he?

42

Okay, color me way freaked. Either they were seriously messing with my mind or they were...even more seriously messing with my mind.

Very quickly, I ran through possible scenarios in my head:

1) They were lying (of course).

a) Lying about us all having been in the School this whole time.

b) Not lying about us all having been in the School this whole time.

2) This, even now, this second, was just another hallucination.

3) Everything up till now had in fact been drug-induced nightmares and dreams (an anorexically thin possibility).

4) Whether they were lying or no, whether this was a dream or no, I should just break loose, kick their sorry butts, and be done with it.

I lay back against my thin pillow. I glanced around at the flock. I had seen them age, seen them get taller, seen their hair grow. How could we have been tied up for years? Or had we been this big to begin with, been created this age?

I looked at Angel, wishing she would send me a reassuring thought. But nothing came from her at all. Oh, God.

I couldn’t think anymore. I was hungry and in pain and trying to keep a steel lid on my rising panic. I closed my eyes and tried to take some steady breaths.

“How do you get some chow in this joint?” I finally asked.

“We’ll get you something right now,” Jeb said.

“Like, a last meal,” said Angel in her little-girl voice.

My eyes opened.

“I’m sorry, Max,” said Anne Walker. “But as you’ve probably figured out, we’re shutting down all of our recombinant-DNA experiments. All of the lupine-human blends have been retired, and it’s time to retire you too.”

Which confirmed that we hadn’t seen any real Erasers lately. Gazzy had explained about the Flyboy robot things.

“Retire as in kill?” I asked flatly. “Is that how you live with yourselves? By using euphemisms for death and murder?” I pretended to quote a newscast: “In today’s news, seven people were ‘retired’ in a horrific accident on Highway Seventeen.” I changed voices. “Jimmy, don’t retire that bird with your shotgun.” Then, “Please, sir, don’t retire me! You can have my wallet!”

I gazed at Jeb and Anne, feeling cold rage turn my face into a mask. “How’s that working out for you? Able to look at yourselves in a mirror? Able to sleep at night?”

“We’ll get you something to eat,” Anne said, and she walked quickly out of the room.

“Max—,” Jeb began.

“Don’t you even talk to me!” I spat. “Take your little traitor with you and get out of our death chamber!”

Angel’s expression didn’t change as she looked from me to Jeb. Jeb took her hand and sighed, and they both left the room. I was shaking with emotion and in a last surge, strained against the Velcro straps with all my superhuman strength.

Nothing.

I flopped back against the bed, tears forming in my eyes, hating to have the flock see me like this. I wiggled my left fingers and looked for the scars. Nothing.

“So, that went well,” said Fang.