Hawk - James Patterson Page 0,71

has shown us that if we suddenly find a bunch of police, or military, or mercenaries all having a hysterical meltdown over something, then that something is Max.”

“Uh… how many times has this happened?” I asked.

Gazzy tossed me a small, heavy brown paper bag. “Here, hold this.”

I caught it one-handed.

“Okay, can you fly now?” Nudge asked.

I moved my shoulders, flexing my wings to test for strength.

“Yeah, pretty sure I can pull my own weight,” I said. Holding Gazzy’s paper bag close to me, I let go of Nudge and shot my wings out fast. Instantly the wind caught them, shooting me backward about thirty meters before I found my rhythm and flew to catch up. The hours of rest, and some food, had been as good as eight hours of sleep. I felt recharged and ready for anything.

Gazzy tossed more bags to the others. I was working to stay in Iggy’s slipstream, paying attention to how my body was positioned, like I’d been taught. “What are these?” I asked, shaking my paper bag. Please be more food, I begged silently.

“Bombs,” Gazzy replied, not looking over. “Don’t shake it, don’t squeeze it.”

Iggy giggled beside me. “If Gazzy hands you something, it’s pretty much always a bomb. What, were you hoping for lunch or something?” He chuckled again.

“No,” I said, putting as much snideness in my voice as I could. “I meant, what kind of bomb. Obviously. Jeez.” I held it somewhat away from myself—the “Don’t shake it, don’t squeeze it” directive kind of freaking me out.

“Here we go,” Fang muttered. “You made the mistake of asking Gazzy a bomb question.”

Gazzy turned to me, his face lighting up. His long, dark blond hair whipped around his face and he tucked it behind his ears, only to have it slip free again seconds later. “In some ways, it’s a basic IED—improvised explosive device,” he said. “They can be anything from little smoke bombs—I love those, been experimenting with colors—to, like, honking big things that can blow a hole in a city, or reach down to a subway, or take out a tall building.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, deciding I hadn’t really wanted to know that information. I should’ve been more specific—Do we have a plan??? What are we doing??? We couldn’t keep circling forever—for one thing, big dark gray clouds were sliding in below us. Nudge pointed downward and we slowly sank through them so we could still see the prison. The clouds were heavy and full of water—they left me damp, my feathers beaded with droplets.

A rumble of thunder sent vibrations through my body like I was sitting on trolley tracks, and I wondered if this was dangerous. Sometimes the clouds over the City of the Dead kind of leaked, but there usually wasn’t thunder. Should I be worried? I was holding a bomb beneath a gathering storm. Glancing at the others, I saw that they were intent on what was happening below.

Three helicopters hovered above the metal cage. From this far up, the flickering lights of the vidscreens looked like lightning bouncing around a big courtyard. Rain began to fall, quickly turning into fat, hard drops pelting painfully against my face.

“Gather in!” Nudge shouted, just as another rolling drum of thunder echoed through my chest and stomach. Beneath the clouds, the wind whipped against us, pushing us in all directions. I tried hard to stay close to the others. My bomb was getting wet. Was that bad?

Iggy flew near me. “That’s the Flock for ya,” he said, making himself heard above the storm. “We do great, necessary, exciting things. But you know…” he shrugged. “We sorta play with death a lot.”

Oh, awesome.

CHAPTER 69

“Drop lower,” Gazzy directed, his hair plastered against his face. He brushed it away with one impatient hand.

“Try to stay above and behind the choppers,” Nudge added.

“Do we have a plan?” I couldn’t help asking, then wanted to smack myself.

“Yeah,” Iggy said, sounding surprised. “We’re here to rescue Max!”

I pressed my lips together, but the words escaped anyway. “Like… more of a plan?”

Fang answered tightly: “We don’t have numbered diagrams. We have to take in all the factors involved in the moment, including stuff like storms, which we couldn’t predict.”

I turned a bit so he wouldn’t see the hurt on my face. He was short-tempered, irritated with me. No more questions, I told myself. Just relax and go with the flow.

Gazzy and Nudge were talking, nodding, moving their hands in the air.

We were all sopping wet. I was chilly, shivering, the