Bully for me. “At least by power,” I said. “You haven’t tried Snickers bars or cute shoes.”
Jeb smiled at me. It still hurt my heart when he did that.
“You don’t want the Director to be your mother no matter what kind of power you would get from it.”
“I don’t want the Director to be my mother because she’s an insane witch,” I said.
His smile widened, and I barely suppressed an urge to punch him.
“The Director isn’t your mother.”
Had I heard right? Was he just snowing me? I felt Nudge and Angel stiffen, and Ari clumsily sat up and rubbed his eyes. He blinked at seeing Jeb but didn’t say anything.
“What do you mean?” I said suspiciously. “Is this one of your chain yanks? I mean, for God’s sake, make up your mind!”
“The Director, Marian Janssen, engineered your design and development,” Jeb explained. “She oversaw the whole project. To her, that must feel like motherhood.”
“Oh, my God, and here I thought she couldn’t get any more pathetic.” Relief was flooding through me that such a horrible, crazy person truly had not passed on her DNA to me.
“She didn’t donate an egg?” I needed to be sure.
Jeb shook his head. “She shares no genetic material with you.”
I dropped my head. “I’m really, really glad,” I muttered. Of course, it left me with my same old “mystery guest” for a mother, but I swear, anyone would have been better than that freak show. I couldn’t believe Jeb had just waltzed in here and told me. He, more than anyone else, should have known how huge it was, finding out who my mother was. Or wasn’t.
I looked up at him. “Well? Any other bombs you want to drop before you leave? Any more fake directions you want to steer me in?”
Jeb hesitated. “Do you remember in New York, when you killed Ari, and I yelled that you had killed your brother?”
I looked over warily and saw Ari tense, staring at Jeb.
“Yeah. Lucky for you he’s hard to kill.”
Ari shot me a brief smile.
“He is your brother, Max,” said Jeb. “At least, your half brother.”
I couldn’t breathe. What did...what...
“I’m your father, Max,” said Jeb simply.
106
Everything faded away except Jeb’s face.
I couldn’t even hear the propaganda blaring from the speakers anymore. I felt the damp heat of Nudge’s hand tighten in mine, felt my feathers brushing the cold stone floor, but all I could do was stare at Jeb while his words rattled senselessly inside my brain.
My eyes flicked back to Ari. He didn’t look upset—just stunned.
“What are you talking about?” I said, unwilling to have the rug pulled out from under me, which, face it, seems to be these guys’ main source of yuks.
“I’m your father, Max,” Jeb repeated. “I wasn’t married to your mother, but we decided together to create you.”
I couldn’t even look at him. For years and years I had wished that he was my dad. In my mind, without telling anyone, I’d pretended he was. It was what I’d wanted more than anything in the world. Then he’d disappeared and I’d grieved for him with a broken heart.
Then he’d turned up again—surprise!—evil. Which had broken my heart even worse than the first time.
Now Jeb was saying that he really was my dad. That my wishes had come true. Except I no longer trusted him, no longer admired him, no longer loved him.
“Hmm,” I said.
He reached out and patted my knee briefly. “I know it’s an awful lot to take in, especially given the past six months. All I can say is that one day I hope to be able to explain it all to you, Max. You deserve that, and so much more. But know that I’m your father. And I know this sounds impossible, but I’m asking you to trust me as your dad.”
“That really can’t happen at this point,” I said slowly.
He nodded. “I understand. But I’m asking you to try.”
“Hmm.”
“Half brother?” Ari asked.
Jeb turned to him. “Yes. You had different mothers. Your mother was my wife, who died shortly after you were born.”
Ari was absorbing this when I asked, “But I was born before Ari. Who was my mother?”
“Your mother and I had no personal relationship,” said Jeb slowly. “But we agreed on what to do; we agreed that we wanted to be part of your beginning, part of your heritage. It was a monumental, stunning idea, that we—”
“I don’t want to hear this!” I cried, folding in my wings. I was ready to kill him, drawing out this moment like torture. “I don’t care about all the ‘beautiful science,’ la la la! You tell me who my mother is before I yank your eyes out!”
Jeb looked at me, unperturbed. “She’s a good woman, and you remind me of her.”
I stood up, trembling with rage and tension. “You...better...tell...me.”
My hands were clenched into fists. Angel and Nudge stood up too, behind me. Total was growling low in his throat. For such a small dog, he could sound like a rottweiler when he wanted to.
“Your mother is Dr. Martinez. Valencia Martinez. You met her in Arizona.”
107
I almost fell over backward. For a second I thought I was going to faint—I got tunnel vision and my skin felt icy. There was no sound in the empty, echoing dungeon.
A dozen images flashed through my mind: her smiling face, her warm brown eyes, the smell of homemade chocolate-chip cookies. Her and Ella watching me, hands shading their eyes, as I took off. Eating meals together. She was the most real momlike mom I’d ever imagined.
“Dr. Martinez...is my...mother?” I whispered hoarsely.
He nodded seriously. “She was an incredibly important research scientist, specializing in avian genetics. But once you were a viable embryo, she was locked out of the process. Not by me, I might add. She went back to Arizona, brokenhearted. But she donated the egg that became you.”
I frowned, my mind racing, looking for loopholes. I had to make absolutely sure, because if I got my hopes up and then was wrong, I didn’t think I’d ever recover. “Dr. Martinez is Hispanic,” I said. “I don’t look anything like her.”
“You have her eyes,” said Jeb.
Well, I did have brown eyes.
“And I was blond as a little boy, like you are. So was Ari, if you remember.”
I glanced at Ari, who was now, you know, wolf colored. He had been blond.
I focused my laser gaze on Jeb and made my voice as hard as an ice pick. “If this is an elaborate test, something else I’m supposed to pass somehow, you will never see the light of day again.”
Jeb’s mouth quirked on one side. “This, I’m happy to say, is not a test. Out of everything I’ve ever told you, it is the most true. Valencia Martinez is your mother. And I’m your father.”
I looked at him, still furious about everything that had happened since he’d disappeared on us more than two years ago. I wanted to hurt him one-tenth as much as he’d hurt me and the rest of the flock.
“I don’t have a father,” I said coldly, and was both rewarded by and guilty about the flare of pain I saw in his eyes. I looked away and, still trembling with emotion, turned and went as far as my chain would let me.
When Jeb spoke, he used the Voice, the one I’d gotten so used to hearing inside my head, the one I hadn’t heard since he’d told me it was him.
“Max—you’re still here to save the world. That’s what you were born for, that’s the point of everything, all of this. No one else can do it. I believe that with all my heart. This isn’t a test, and I’m not snowing you. You have to do this. Nothing in the history of mankind has ever been more important. Nothing. Ever. Ever.”
108
There was silence for a few moments. It was all too much for me to take in—like getting the most amazing, fabulous, unbelievable Christmas presents ever, and yet having them cause you an incredible amount of rage and pain.
“What about
our parents?” Angel asked. “Me and the Gasman. Nudge, Fang. Where are they?”
“I don’t know,” Jeb said, standing up. “Some of them were never identified by name—only number. And we’ve lost track of others. Their roles were over so quickly.”
“What about that information we found,” Nudge asked, “where we saw some names and addresses and stuff?”
Jeb shook his head. “I don’t know what you found, but I’d guess you misinterpreted it, or maybe it was planted by the Director. I’ve been finding out about many things she’s done that I didn’t know about.”
Oh, I’m so sure, I thought.
Looking over at Nudge and Angel, I saw their faces fall, the light of hope fading in their eyes. I put my arms around them, and Total wedged himself among our feet.
“I’m sorry, guys,” I said, holding them close. “But parents are totally overrated. We’re all the family we need. Right?”
“We’ve just...spent so much time trying to find out,” Nudge said softly.
Angel nodded. “I want to know, for sure.”
“Someday we’ll know the whole truth,” I said. “But for right now, I’m just glad I have you guys. You’re my family.”
They gave me sad smiles and nodded.
I looked over my shoulder at Jeb. “You can go now. Unless you have any more heartbreaking news you’d like to deliver.”
He looked regretful, and I automatically tensed up.
“You’re supposed to come see the rally,” he said. “And then there’s a final test.”
He sounded weird and didn’t meet my eyes. I’m sure all of you will join me in leaping to the conclusion that something bad was about to happen.
And you would be right.
109
You are reading Fang’s Blog. Welcome!
Date: Already Too Late!
You are visitor number: Our stat thing quit working. Got overloaded. But you’re way up there, believe me.
Let’s Stick Together, People!
Okay, folks, we’re on the East Coast somewhere between Miami and Eastport, Maine. Don’t want to be more specific than that. We’re on our way to rejoin Max. Don’t have time to rehash all the details, but let’s just say that I’ve decided a flock ought to stick together while they can.
We’ve gotten more mail than we can handle, so thanks to everyone who’s supporting us. I can only reply to a few people, so I’ll do that here, and then we have to split.
To Advon777 in Utah: I don’t know where you got a missile launcher, and I don’t want to know. But even though it might come in handy, it still seems like a really bad idea for you to be messing with it. Maybe you should just put it back where you got it.
To Felicite StarLight in Milan, Italy: Thanks for the offer, but I really don’t have time for a girlfriend right now. I found your ideas...creative, but this is not a good time.
To JamesL in Ontario: Thanks, man. I appreciate your support. We need all the help we can get, but waiting till you get out of second grade is fine.
To PDM1223: Excellent! That’s exactly what I’m talking about! Tell people what’s going on, spread the message, organize protests and stuff. Picket the gargantuan pharmco companies like Itex. I hacked into their files and found that the companies Stellah Corp, Dywestra, Mofongo Research, DelaneyMinkerPrince, and a bunch of others are all Itex under different names in different countries. Stellah Corp is in England, not far from you. See the whole list under Appendix F, for Fatheads. Everyone, read this guy’s mail! He totally has a handle on what I mean, what needs to happen.
To everyone in the Seattle area: There’s a protest organized for Saturday. Check the schedule that BigBoyBlue has made (thanks, BBB!), attached as Appendix G, for the time and place. Folks in other cities, check the schedule. There’s a tidal wave of stuff going on. Thanks to everyone who’s making this happen! We’re gonna save the world! We’re the last hope!
—Fang
Fang typed the last words, then sat back and rubbed his eyes. It was two in the morning.
He, Iggy, and the Gasman were set up to sneak onto a freight plane at 6:10 a.m. The two other boys were asleep, curled up on sacks of seed corn in the corner of this cavernous hangar. Fang had offered to take the whole watch. He had to get caught up with his blog, and also, they seemed much more wiped than he was. They’d flown across the whole United States, with stops only for quick rests and meals on the run.
He shut down the computer, wanting to save the battery. He felt safer without its soft blue glow, with the middle-of-the-night blackness settling around him.
It was hard to believe what he was reading on the blog, the swelling underground movement that kids were organizing all around the world. Even in places like Kazakhstan and Taiwan, kids were getting mad, getting determined. Fang had heard from kids who seemed willing to die for what they believed in. He hoped that wouldn’t be necessary.
He leaned back against a sack of corn, listening to the others’ breathing. It was torture to wait until six like this, and then the whole flight across the ocean, and then look for Max somewhere in Germany. He’d give anything to be able to snap his fingers and be there. Unfortunately, that was one skill the mad scientists had forgotten to program in.
In the meantime, he was totally stoked about his blog, the one that Max hadn’t taken seriously. He really thought these kids could make a difference. More important, they thought so too.
He put his hands behind his neck and stretched, then permitted himself a small grin. Max had always teased that the flock had voted Fang “Most Likely to Become a Cult Leader.”
Well, maybe he had. And maybe that was the only thing that could save everybody.
110
“Is this a pep rally?” Total asked in a low voice as we slogged our way up countless stone steps. “With cheerleaders? I love cheerleaders.”
“I don’t think it’s a pep rally,” I said under my breath. “Somehow I don’t think the Mad Whitecoat team is squaring off against the Fightin’ Freedom Lovers.”
“What kind of final test?” Nudge asked, sounding apprehensive.
I sighed. “Something asinine, probably life threatening, and guaranteed to make me angry every time I remember it for the rest of my life.”
Angel looked up at me, worried. “Do you think Fang will get here soon?”
I nodded. “I’m sure he’s on his way.”
But he probably wouldn’t make it in time to spare me this idiocy. Instinctively I began taking deep breaths, super-oxygenating my blood. My knuckles were scarred from the last little skirmish I’d had with the flying can openers, and I cracked them loudly, already bracing myself to feel pain and to ignore it.
The rally was taking place out in the wimpy winter sunlight of the prison yard. The sky and air felt as gray as the lifeless dirt beneath our boots. I thought about Dr. Martinez and how she might actually be my mom. Outside of the flock, she and Ella—Ella was my half sister!—were my favorite people in the world. I wished I could take several hours to just enjoy thinking about it. Now I might die before I ever saw them again.
The remaining ranks of mutants and wannabes were lined up neatly in the yard. There were fewer of them than before, and I remembered what Max II had said about how they disappeared every day.
Was this going to be another fight with Max II? Did they really want me to kill her this time? I prayed no one was sick enough to make me fight Ari again, but I wouldn’t put it past them.
“Wait here,” commanded a Flyboy in a metallic voice.
Sure, I thought, because telling me what to do always works so well.
Several Flyboys surrounded us, pointing guns. The guns seemed to be welded to their arms, part of them. An improvement over the last ones—now they couldn’t drop their weapons or have them taken away. Those guys just kept innovating! That’s progress, people!
“Welcome, everyone,” said my ex-mom, walking out onto a platform. Her image immediately popped up on half a dozen movie theater–sized screens posi
tioned all around the yard.
She opened her arms in greeting, and then I noticed the viewing stands full of people over to one side. Everything about them said “government wanks,” and I figured they were here to be impressed, flattered, and bribed, not necessarily in that order.
“Welcome, honored representatives of...” Then she launched into a geographical who’s who of countries all around the world. Pretty much every country I’d heard of, and a bunch I hadn’t, seemed to be thinking about jumping on the Insane Apocalypse bandwagon.
“And now, prepare yourselves to view many of our most stunning achievements,” said the Director, pressing a button that opened an eight-foot metal-clad door.
Great, I thought. My day’s about to get worse.
Which, come to think of it, was the first of their stunning achievements, actually.
111
“Okay, they got me,” Total whispered. “I am one stunned little dog.”
Angel, Nudge, and I nodded silently, our eyes wide at what was happening in front of us.
I won’t describe the scariest things we saw that morning, ’cause it would depress the heck out of you. Let’s just say that if these scientists had been using their brilliance for good instead of evil, cars would run off water vapor and leave fresh compost behind them; no one would be hungry; no one would be ill; all buildings would be earthquake-, bomb-, and flood-proof; and the world’s entire economy would have collapsed and been replaced by one based on the value of chocolate.
However, since they were evil, basically we saw stuff that would fuel the world’s nightmares for the next five hundred years.
“Max, if you survive your final test, can you steal one of those magic outfits for me?” Angel asked, leaning against me.
“I’ll try to get one for each of us,” I replied, and then I realized what she’d said. “Hey! ‘If’?”
She looked at me seriously, and I hoped she hadn’t developed a way to predict the future. “We’re way outnumbered, and I don’t think they’re gonna fight fair.”