Angel: A Maximum Ride Novel mr-7 Read online

  68

  THE DOOMSDAY GROUP posters announced that D-day was near, that when the world ended, the new regime would begin.

  Why aren’t crazy people content to take over, like, one town? It always has to be the whole world. They can’t just control maybe twenty people. They have to control everyone. They can’t just be stinking rich. They have to be incomprehensibly stinking rich. They can’t just do genetic experiments on a couple unlucky few. They have to put something in the water. In the air. To get everyone.

  I was tired of all of it.

  But if their claims were true, this could be the worst thing we’d ever come up against. I couldn’t take the chance. What was really getting to me was that since Angel and Gazzy had left yesterday afternoon, we hadn’t heard from them. All sorts of bad scenarios played out in my brain, but I hoped if they’d been harmed, I would somehow know it, feel it.

  “What time does the rally start?” Dylan asked.

  “You saw the poster. Noon,” I said, my anxiety making me cranky.

  His eyes met mine, and his expression told me that he understood, that he didn’t take it personally. Just then I remembered being with him atop the Arc de Triomphe. Being held, being comforted again wouldn’t be such a bad thing right now…. I looked away, angry at myself for thinking like a weak and weepy damsel.

  “We should go there early,” said Nudge, fidgeting in her chair. Despite all the baddies and dangers and disasters we’d faced, this one felt different. We were all on edge.

  I nodded. “We’ll head there right after breakfast—and try to volunteer.”

  Fang’s gang had its own plan; our part was to get jobs at the rally.

  By 10:00 a.m., crowds were gathering at the Place de la Concorde. It was a huge plaza and could hold thousands of people. Somehow the DG had gotten permission to close off the traffic circle around the tall pink-marble obelisk that had been a gift from Egypt nearly two hundred years before.

  The DG had plastered the place with flyers, promising a wonderful rally, filled with truth, enlightenment, and new beginnings, all starting at noon.

  “Truth, enlightenment, and new beginnings? Try mass destruction of humanity!” Dylan sputtered.

  I nodded, continuing to scan the area. I saw nothing ominous—and no signs of Angel or Gazzy. How would D-day come about? A bomb? Death rays? A huge meteor that no one expected? So far I wasn’t getting any clues. I felt tense, with a weird sense of foreboding in the pit of my stomach. Still, this could all turn out to be a huge bust. Maybe the DG had overextended itself?

  I could only hope.

  We found the main stage, where kids were setting up metal barriers to control the crowd. At least six news vans were unloading equipment, getting ready to film whatever happened.

  “Why haven’t we heard from Angel and Gazzy?” I asked under my breath as we waited to speak to someone in charge. “I’m getting nothing from her.”

  “I’m sure she’s okay,” Dylan said, putting a hand on my shoulder. I tried not to jump out of my skin. Would I ever get used to him? It really seemed like too much, to have to deal with my feelings about him on top of saving the world.

  “Yes?” A smiling teenage girl came to the metal barrier. She looked normal, 100 percent human. Though that didn’t mean anything. “Can I help you?”

  “We’d like to volunteer,” I said eagerly. “This is so exciting!”

  “It really is,” said the girl. “I feel so honored to be here today serving the One Light.” She gave us another smile. “We’re lucky to have all the help we need right now, so why don’t you grab a good spot and wait for the rally to begin? We’re going to have multiple live feeds to just about every major city in the world—and then a huge fireworks display at the end!”

  “I love fireworks!” Nudge said cheerfully.

  “It’s going to be beautiful!” The girl’s eyes sparkled. “Mark is going to deliver a really inspiring message.”

  “I know!” I tried to sound perky. It was hard. “That’s why we really want to be part of this. We came all the way from the US of A to help! Isn’t there anything we can do?”

  “I’m not sure what else there is,” the girl said, smiling helplessly. “I’m sorry.”

  “We were thinking that maybe a cool aerial show would help advertise the rally,” I said quickly. “We could show people how special it is to be different—or enhanced.”

  Dylan stepped back and quickly extended his wings, fifteen feet of bones, muscle, and raw power. The girl almost fell over backward.

  “Oh, yes,” she said in awe. “I think an aerial show is a brilliant idea!”

  69

  HALF AN HOUR LATER, we were gliding and swooping over the Place de la Concorde on a gorgeous sunny morning in Paris. If we weren’t there trying to stop a bunch of crazies from blowing up the world, it would have been great.

  As it was, the closer it got to noon, the more people poured into the enormous plaza, and the more I realized just how many people might lose their lives right in front of me if we couldn’t figure out what was going on and how to stop it.

  The four of us (me, Dylan, Nudge, and Iggy) pulled out all the stops: we dive-bombed the crowd, making them scream; we did death spirals around the obelisk (that I hoped were not omens); we shadowed flocks of pigeons and imitated their movements. It seemed like everybody in the plaza had their eyes glued on us, spellbound, making anyone engaged in nefarious activity easier for us to spot.

  Throughout everything, I maintained a raptor lookout for Angel and Gazzy, lasering in on everyone working around the stage, every member of the DG I saw. Fang and his gang were in plain view—well, not Star so much, what with all the zipping around. They were handing out copies of the Enhanced People’s Manifesto, selling T-shirts, and generally walking about, and, we hoped, gathering some intel.

  An emcee had taken the stage and was starting to whip the crowd into a frenzy, announcing their special lineup, the musical guests, and the huge fireworks display at the end.

  But still no Angel or Gazzy.

  Dylan and I were flying in tight formation, moving our wings with split-second precision so we wouldn’t crash. I wondered if Fang had noticed or if it bothered him. I still noticed Maya. A lot. Every time I saw her, it was like getting salt water in my eyes all over again.

  Suddenly, I realized that Dylan had shifted his position to fly barely two feet above me, matching me wing stroke for wing stroke.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, craning to look up at him.

  “I like this view,” he said.

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I like watching your… power,” he said. “You’re a beautiful flyer. Your hair is streaming through the air like silk ribbon. The sun is shining on your feathers. And I’m just glad to be here, with you. Even if we are trying to stop mass destruction.”

  My face burned. Once again, when I was feeling at my most vulnerable, Dylan was somehow there, saying exactly the right thing, reading my mind—

  “Can you read minds?” I asked.

  “No,” Dylan said. “Not that I would tell you if I could.” He gave me an infuriating smile and then rose higher in the air, looking graceful and strong.

  Everything was so messed up.

  Max!

  I almost looked around but then realized that I was hearing Angel’s voice in my head.

  Angel? I thought, studying the crowd anxiously. Where are you? Are you okay? What’s going on?

  Danger, Angel told me. Max, such enormous danger, I can’t even tell you. We’re in the sewers, beneath the city. We’ve never faced anything like this. I’m scared, Max.

  My heart pounded in my chest as I scanned the city streets below. Where are you?? I thought.

  Under the Place de la Concorde, Angel told me. Her thoughts were fuzzy, indistinct.

  Just then, my eyes focused on a small black dot, right outside the barricades around the plaza. It was an open manhole cover, maybe two feet in diameter.
r />   Angel was there. I was sure of it.

  I tucked my wings against my back, angled down, and shot toward the small opening at a hundred miles an hour.

  I’m on my way, I thought.

  70

  TRYING TO FLY through a target that small was like trying to spit from the top of the Empire State Building to hit a nickel on the ground below. But I’d done it before, and I knew I could do it again. I just needed to focus. And for everyone to stay the heck out of my way.

  Max, maybe you shouldn’t come down here. I don’t know if we can fix this, Angel’s fuzzy, troubled thought said to me. There’s just too much. This might be… the end.

  I couldn’t even think as I plunged downward. I tucked my wings back tight, pointed my hands forward, and dove into the darkness.

  As soon as I was through, I tucked myself into a ball and flung my wings out wide. I hit a hard concrete floor and tumbled, scraping my face and hands, but my sneakers and my wings helped me stop. I skittered forward, slightly out of control, and halted just inches from the narrow canal that flowed through the sewer system.

  Whew, I thought, then heard a whoosh. Something big and heavy plowed into me from behind and shoved me right into the water.

  “Augh!” I said, as it followed me over the edge and landed in the water with a splash.

  I could see Dylan well enough to whack him hard on the shoulder.

  “Thanks! A girl always loves to take a dip in the sewer!” I said.

  He scrambled onto the bank and held out his hand to help me up. I ignored it and got out by myself.

  “What are you doing here?”

  We spoke at the exact same time, the exact same words. He answered first.

  “Saw you go down,” he said. “Followed you.”

  I tried to shake some water off. “I got a message from Angel,” I said, scanning the tunnel. “She says there’s massive danger down here, something too big for us to fix or deal with.”

  “So of course you immediately came down.”

  “Yeah. That’s the way it works in the flock,” I said. “And you just left Nudge, Iggy, and Total alone up there?”

  Dylan shook his head. “Fang and Maya showed up, just as you took your dive. They said they’d stay with them.”

  Max? Angel’s voice trembled inside my head.

  I turned this way and that, as if I could get a trajectory on a thought. Where are you? I asked her.

  There was a long pause, then Angel said, This way.

  I just slowly tried to follow her thought, and when it felt right, I started walking.

  “What kind of danger? Did she say?” Dylan asked quietly.

  I shook my head, trying to listen. The water trickled by in the middle canal. I heard the skittering of small feet, heard the clicks of insects. But nothing else.

  This way…

  “I think she’s nearby,” I said softly, frustrated. “It’s not clear. She’s not giving me directions.”

  “Max.” Dylan took my arm. “Are you sure that you’re hearing Angel?”

  I stopped in my tracks.

  After a moment’s reflection, I nodded. “It sounds like her,” I said. “And not many people can send thoughts.”

  Dylan hesitated, looking around. “It’s just… If this is a trap, it’s a really good one.”

  Max?

  I hadn’t felt Angel seem this frightened in… forever.

  Where are you? I thought. What’s going on?

  I can’t ever tell you, Max, Angel responded. Not ever. Just that now I know for sure what kind of evil they’re capable of.

  71

  WE’RE COMING, ANGE, I thought. Later I’d find a way to get her to tell me what they did to her.

  The concrete was smooth, wet, and slimy, requiring careful foot placement. My heart was pounding, and I felt jittery with dread. At first I thought the dull roar I heard was water rushing somewhere. But as we walked, I realized it was the sound of the crowd above us. The rally was heating up.

  Which meant time was running out.

  “I hope these tunnels are sturdy,” Dylan whispered. “There are probably five thousand people up there. At least.”

  I nodded. I couldn’t tell exactly what was happening, but the waves of sound swelled and receded as the crowd got more and more excited about the Doomsday Group’s message.

  Again, Dylan took my arm. He leaned down and spoke into my ear, almost inaudibly. “Up ahead. To the left. They’re behind that wall.”

  I glanced into his eyes—he looked certain but cautious.

  We flattened out against the wall and sidled forward, moving noiselessly, breathing very slowly, totally in sync with each other. Another five yards. Then I thought I heard Gazzy’s voice.

  “Just ten,” he said.

  “No,” said Angel.

  “Five.”

  “No.”

  I shot a knowing look at Dylan but had too much experience to feel glad yet. They could be in cages. This actually could be a trap. Any number of awful things could still happen.

  Slowly, I edged around the corner, listening so hard my ears hurt. The screams, chants, and clapping overhead were starting to drown out everything down here. With Dylan behind me, I sank down to my knees and eased forward so I could see.

  Gazzy and Angel were alone in a huge, cavernlike room that reminded me of the subway tunnels in New York City. There was a grate of metal bars at the entrance, but it had been left open, as if someone had left in a hurry. I stood up and stepped forward.

  Angel saw me first. “Max!” I saw relief on her face, but she remained quite still, and I soon saw why.

  She was completely surrounded by explosives.

  72

  “MAX!” SAID GAZZY. “Look!” He waved his arms at piles and piles of what looked like Silly Putty. Big, huge bricks of Silly Putty. Which had wires running to them. On the wall was a digital clock with large red numbers. It was counting down.

  The sewer tunnels beneath the Place de la Concorde, where thousands of people were awaiting their “new beginning,” were packed with enough C-4 to make a crater the size of Texas. France is a bit smaller than Texas.

  “Thank God you’re okay, Ange,” I said, my throat tight. “Did they hurt you?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” said Angel. “Time is running out. Gazzy and I came down here to check out some stuff we overheard at the DG headquarters and—”

  “Max,” Gazzy broke in, practically vibrating with excitement. “Have you ever seen so many explosives?”

  “No,” I said. “Not even close.”

  “I guess this is the big fireworks display they were talking about,” Dylan said.

  Suddenly a new voice spoke out of the darkness. “I bet you’re right.”

  The four of us spun around. We assumed battle positions even as my brain realized that it was Fang, that he must have followed us, and that fighting in a room full of plastic explosives was probably not a good idea.

  “Where did you come from?” I asked, rattled.

  “I saw you go down,” said Fang. “I came to help.” My sense of pride flared up, then quickly faded. The days when I preferred to fight the bad guys with one wing tied behind my back were gone. The more help, the better.

  “Could I maybe… just keep ten chunks?” Gazzy asked wistfully. “Small ones?”

  “No,” Dylan, Fang, and I all said in unison.

  “Okay, I’m seeing a lot of plastique, and it’s wired to a detonator,” I said. C-4 by itself is actually pretty stable. It needs something to ignite it before it will explode. “But what’s in these big metal tanks?”

  “It’s marked VX—gaz toxique,” Angel said.

  “Is that a cute French way of saying we’re surrounded by a completely lethal gaseous nerve agent?” I asked.

  Angel nodded unhappily.

  Perfect. A quick glance around showed almost as much poison gas as explosives. “When the C-4 detonates, the VX will be released too,” Dylan realized.

  �
�All those people above us,” I said, the full horror slowly sinking in.

  “These sewer pipes go all over,” said Gazzy. “Some of them go out into the ocean, and some go into Belgium and Germany. They’re really old, and they all seem connected. They’ll carry the poison pretty far away, and it’ll seep up through drainage grates.”

  “Is there any way to dismantle the timers?” Fang asked.

  “They’re complicated,” Gazzy said, “but I’ve seen them before. I wish Iggy were here.”

  “We can grab him,” I said, but Fang shook his head.

  “When I left him, he and Nudge were circling back with Maya to find the gang. We’ll never reach them in time.”

  “What does that timer say?” I asked.

  Gazzy looked. “Seven minutes.”

  “Is that enough time for you to kill it?” Fang asked.

  “I think so,” Gazzy said. He traced a set of colored wires from one timer to the next. “I can probably do it in about five minutes. I’ve always wanted to work on one of these.”

  I was torn and looked at Fang. He understood: Gazzy could stay and try to save everyone, possibly sacrificing himself in the process… or I could order him out of here, saving my whole flock but sentencing thousands of innocent people to certain death.

  It was my call. Because I was the leader.

  I’m great at thinking on my feet and making snap decisions, but this—this was a big life-or-death choice. I felt stuck. And every second counted.

  Dylan touched my back gently, as if to tell me that he knew it was hard, but he’d understand whichever way I went. At least, I hope that’s what he meant.

  “I think Gazzy should stay,” Angel said, looking up at me. “And I’ll stay with him, to help. I’m not as good as Iggy, but I can do whatever he tells me to.”

  “No, not you too,” I said.

  “I’ll stay,” said Fang. “With three of us, we’ll make it work.” He turned to Gazzy. “Get going. Be fast but careful.”

  “Fang is right,” said Dylan.

  I realized I couldn’t fix this situation. I couldn’t make the perfect decision that would save everyone. I had to trust their instincts. And I had to do what I could.