The Final Warning (Maximum Ride 4)

“ARE WE THERE YET?” Total grumbled as I held him in my arms.

It was nighttime in Argentina. Cooping up six bird kids in a weensy plane for hours had been a mistake on Dr. Dwyer’s part. We’d gotten twitchier and twitchier as the long flight went on, and when we finally touched down in San Julián, Gazzy had burst through the emergency exit, setting off alarms and making the inflatable ramp deploy.

We had then resisted her efforts to get us into a car. Yeah, yeah, we’d signed up to save the world, but that didn’t mean we had to agree to being in a small enclosed space again.

Which was why we were flying low over Dr. Dwyer’s Jeep, trying to stay out of sight of the scarce traffic on this winding, narrow road. It was dark, cold, and windy. Maybe parts of Argentina, like up north, were warm, but down here close to the tip, it was cold. Great.

In just a few minutes, we were at the ocean, the same ocean that we’d swum in off the East Coast of America. But this was the South Atlantic Ocean, and that had been the North. This part of the ocean had chunks of real ice floating in it. I gritted my teeth, beginning to get why my mom had kept our destination a secret.

Dr. Dwyer drove her Jeep onto a broad dock. A large boat was tethered at the end of it, or maybe it was a small ship. Who knows? The Jeep stopped, and Dr. Dwyer got out, peering up at the sky, looking for us. We circled high above the area, searching for signs of danger, but everything was quiet. Finally we came to gentle landings about thirty feet from her. Total immediately jumped

down and began sniffing the dock.

“You really can fly,” Dr. Dwyer said softly, almost to herself.

I shook out my wings, feeling the heat from exercise course through them.

“Well, it’s not just an elaborate hoax,” I said.

“It’s . . . very beautiful,” she said, then seemed surprised at herself for saying it. Smiling slightly, she shook her head and began to walk with us toward the boat. “I’m sorry. I know being able to fly wasn’t your choice, and I know only some of the trauma you’ve endured because of it. But to me, on the outside, it seems both beautiful and enviable.”

No one had ever put it that way before, and I didn’t know what to say. She sorta seemed to get the whole pluses/minuses thing of being a bird kid. Not many people did.

“This is our research vessel,” said Dr. Dwyer, pointing at the waiting boat. “We’re from the International Earth Science Foundation.”

Frankly, “research vessel” seemed like a twenty-five-cent name for a ten-cent boat. It was big, maybe a hundred and fifty feet long, but it looked old and run-down. Huge rust stains streaked its blue sides, even covering part of its name: the Wendy K. It had a crane-type thingy on the back, and a built-up cabin up front with lots of satellite antennas on top. Where was Nino Pierpont when you needed him to finance a cutting-edge research vessel, for crying out loud?

“We bought her as a retired offshore fishing trawler,” Dr. Dwyer explained as a man came out onto the deck and waved down at us. “Hey, Michael.”

“Yo, Brigid!” he called back with a smile. His eyes raked us curiously, and I could almost feel his excitement.

“But we’ve retrofitted her, mostly through donations, and now she’s one of our best research stations.” Dr. Dwyer went to the edge of the dock and grabbed a small metal ladder attached to the side of the Wendy K. She began to climb up it, and I was sure her hands would be covered with rust when she got to the top. “It’s safe, I assure you,” she told us over her shoulder.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Gazzy muttered. He flexed his wings, gave a little jump, and flew up to the deck, some eighteen feet above us.

Dr. Dwyer and Michael stared at him, then exchanged pleased smiles, as if they’d just discovered some neat new life-form.

Total jumped into my arms, and the rest of us flew up also.

“Oh, my God,” Michael said. “It’s true!”

“Well, it’s not just an elaborate hoax,” said Dr. Dwyer. “Michael, this is Max, Fang, Iggy, the, uh, Gasman, Nudge, and Angel. Guys, this is Dr. Michael Papa, one of our leading research scientists.”

Total growled softly.

“Oh, and this is their dog, Total,” she added.

Total sucked in his breath with disgust.

“Thank you for coming,” Dr. Papa said simply. He shook hands with us all, very formally, but he seemed warm and friendly, and not like he might want to stick us in cages and poke us with needles. For example.

“We still don’t know why we’re here,” I told him.

“Brigid didn’t tell you?” Dr. Papa’s eyebrows rose. “You’re here to help us gather data for a research project — about global warming and its effects on Antarctica, among other places.” He grinned at us, his teeth pale but human sized in the moonlight. “You’re here to help us save the world.”

29

“THIS IS JUST LIKE MOBY DICK!” Nudge exclaimed happily, bouncing on her tiny bunk. “They were on a fishing boat, and we’re on a fishing boat too! Only this one doesn’t have sails. And isn’t made of wood. And we have radar and computers and stuff. Still. We have little bunks, like old-fashioned sailors, and we eat in the mess, and the bathroom is called the head, and it’s all boat stuff, everywhere!”