Hawk - James Patterson Page 0,30

wrong with me? How many times had I told my flock to never give up, to fight back always, that there was always hope? Like a million? And here I was, so apathetic that I’d just let an evil claw grab me, as if I were a cheap stuffed animal in a carnival game! One second of apathy, one second of giving in to the sweet nothingness of not caring anymore, had landed me here. Now I attacked it with my hands, scrabbling to pull its metal arms apart. Was this going to… pinch me in half? That thought made my throat constrict with terror.

“Take that traitor to the Judgment Room!” McCallum shouted from all the vidscreens. “Anyone can tell you—she’s an infection! Everyone knows that! Her crimes are many! I don’t even have time to go into all her crimes! But they are many, I promise you!”

So much for the Judgment Room, I thought, still trying to pry the claw apart. “Sounds like I’ve already been judged,” I shouted.

I heard the whirring before I felt it, then it was oh, my god, are you kidding me? This weird device wasn’t a killing machine—it was designed to move prisoners, painfully, awkwardly. It rose several inches in the air till my feet dangled uselessly above the ground. Then it changed tracks with a screeching jerk that made me scream. My body swung uselessly in its grip and I tried to hold on so my injury wouldn’t have to bear all the weight. I tried to reach down with my feet to kick out at anything close by. But I was completely helpless, feeling the metal pinching into my skin, feeling the slow, warm trickle of blood I couldn’t afford to lose.

I swear, they made this thing just for me. A last, final insult before I died. They were going to make it seem like I was flying one last time, teasing me with the idea of it. The claw moved forward. The voices of the inmates had gone silent when the claw came out, but once I was captured their murmuring and questions swelled again. A minute later I couldn’t hear them.

I punched the claw, which just caused more sickening pain from my injury. I was sure the clumsy staples were popping out from the pressure.

“Stop this!” I shouted. “I’ll walk to the Judgment Room! Enough theatrics! Let me out! Goddamnit! You goddamn—ow! Goddamnit, that hurt, you assholes!” The claw had swung me against the rough stucco of a wall, and now my knee was bruised and a lot of skin was scraped and stinging.

My fingers were gripping the metal arms, trying to hold on and support my entire body the best they could. Still the pod moved, switching from track to track. I went through entire buildings—some I’d never seen before, never been in. I went through other exercise yards, where prisoners’ voices went silent as this horrific contraption whirred past. That was part of the idea, I’m sure—they were making an example of me. An example of the traitor.

The pain in my side was blinding. My eyes were watering. My throat was so tight I couldn’t even swallow, could barely get breath down. My fingers, holding on to the claw’s arms, were cramping and turning numb. I couldn’t hold on much longer.

Having Phoenix had been painful. In a different way than this, of course. But it had been painful. I’d never had a mom to help me, we were underground, there weren’t tons of midwives or doctors, and there sure wasn’t anesthetic. When Phoenix finally was born, and I quit swearing, I knew that I would do anything, anything at all, to make sure I’d always be there to help her. Always, always.

And then I had left her when she was only five. In my mind I could see Rose hurrying toward us from half a block away. I saw Phoenix, tall and thin for her age, standing at the corner. Fang held her shoulders and spoke into her ear, again and again. She nodded and looked at him, her black eyes confused and worried. I was trying not to show how bloody I was, how my wing was broken, how near I was to death.

And Fang. Fang who I had loved my whole life. First as a sort-of brother, then as a friend, and then… as the person who made my heart jolt, who showed me how deep and strong and overwhelming love could be. I remembered his