Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment

That was the last cheerful thing that happened for the next hour and a half. Fang and I searched in every way we could think of and found a million institutes of one kind or another, in Manhattan and throughout New York state, but none of them seemed promising. My favorite? The Institute for Realizing Your Pet’s I

Angel was lying under the desk at our feet, murmuring quietly to herself. Nudge and the Gasman were playing hangman on a piece of scrap paper. Violence occasionally broke out, since neither of them could spell their way out of a paper bag.

Iggy was sitting motionless in a chair, and I knew he was listening to every whisper, every scraped chair, every rustle of fabric in the room, creating an invisible map of what was happening all around him.

I typed in another search command, then watched in dismay as the computer screen blurred and crashed. A string of orange words, fail, fail, fail, scrolled across the screen before it finally went black and winked out.

“It’s almost closing time, anyway,” Fang said.

“Can we sleep here?” Iggy said softly. “It’s so quiet. I like it in here.”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” I said, looking around. I hadn’t realized that most people had left-we were the only ones in the room. Except for a guard, in uniform, who had just spotted us. She started walking toward us, and something about her, her tightly controlled pace, made my i

“Let’s split,” I muttered, pulling Iggy out of his chair.

We skittered out of there, found the stairs, and raced down as fast as we could. I was expecting Erasers at any moment. But we burst out into the dim late-afternoon light and ran down the stone steps without anyone following us.

82

“Can we take the subway back to the park?” Nudge asked tiredly.

It was late. We’d decided to sleep in Central Park again. It was huge, dark, and full of trees.

“It’s only about eighteen blocks to walk,” I said. But Angel was starting to fade too-she wasn’t back to a hundred percent by a long shot. “Let’s see how much it would cost.”

Five steps down the subway entrance, I was already tense. Nudge, Angel, and the Gasman were too tired to hate being in an enclosed space, but Fang, Iggy, and I were twitching.

The fare was two dollars a person, except kids under forty-four inches, who were free. I looked at Angel. Even though she was only six, she was already over four feet tall. So that was twelve dollars.

Except the fare booth was empty. So we’d have to use the automatic fare machine. That is, if we were going to be troubled about a small thing like hopping over the turnstile when no one was looking.

Once we were inside, ten minutes went by with no train. Ten loooong minutes with me feeling like I was about to start screaming and climbing the walls. If we’d been followed, if Erasers came…

I saw Iggy turn his head, listening to something from inside the dark tu

“What?” I asked.

“People,” he answered. “In there.”

“Workers?”

“I don’t think so.”

I peered into the blackness. Now that I concentrated, I could hear voices too. And way down the line, I saw what looked like the flickering of a fire-its reflected glow from around a bend in the tu

I made a snap decision, which always makes the flock feel so safe and comfortable.

“Let’s go,” I said, and I jumped off the platform and onto the tracks leading into the darkness.

83

“What does that mean?” the Gasman asked, pointing at a small metal plaque that said Stay off the third rail!

“It means the third rail has seven hundred volts of direct current ru

“Okay,” I said. “Good tip. Everyone stay off the third rail.”

Then I shot Fang a look that said, Thank you for that lovely image. He almost gri

Iggy felt the train first. “Everyone off the rails,” he said, standing still until I took his arm. We all stepped over to a yucky, disgusting wall and pressed ourselves as flat against it as possible.

Thirty seconds later, a train rushed past so fast that its slipstream made us sway toward it. I kept my knee shoved against Angel so she wouldn’t be pulled off her feet.

“Well, that was fairly nerve-racking,” I said as we gingerly peeled ourselves off the wall.

“Who’s there?” The voice was querulous, aggressive, and rough, as if its owner had spent the last fifty years smoking cigarettes. Maybe he had.

We walked forward, on the alert, wings starting to unfold a tiny bit in case we suddenly needed to go airborne.

“Nobody,” I called convincingly as we turned the bend of the tu

“Whoa,” the Gasman breathed.

Before us was a city. A small, ragged city in Manhattan ’s basement. Groups of people clotted a large concrete cavern. The ceiling was three stories above us and dripped with paint stalactites and humid condensation.

Several unwashed faces looked toward us, and someone said, “Not cops. Kids.”

They turned away, uninterested, except for one woman who seemed to be wearing about five layers of clothing. “You got food?” she barked.

Silently, Nudge pulled a napkin-wrapped knish out of her pocket and handed it over. The woman sniffed it, looked at it, then turned her back to us and started eating.

Here and there the cavern was dotted with fifty-gallon oil drums in which people had made fires. It was a warm night, but the fires provided the only light and helped get rid of the dank chill that was creeping up my legs.

It was a whole new world, made up of homeless people, people who didn’t fit in anywhere, runaways… We saw a handful of kids who looked around our age.

I realized that my head was aching. It had been growing worse all evening, and now I just wanted to go to sleep.

“Over there,” said the knish woman, pointing. We looked and saw a narrow concrete ledge built into a wall. It was hundreds of feet long, and people were sleeping on it, sitting on it, marking off their territory with old blankets or cardboard boxes. The woman had pointed out a thirty-foot-long section that seemed unoccupied.

I looked at Fang, and he shrugged. It wasn’t as nice as the park, but it was warm, dry, and seemed somewhat safe. We scrambled up the ledge, with me boosting Angel. Keeping our backs to everyone, we stacked our fists and tapped twice. Almost instantly, Nudge lay down, pillowing her head on her hands.

Fang and I sat with our backs against the wall. I dropped my head into my hands and started rubbing my temples.

“You okay?” Fang asked.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “I’ll be better tomorrow.”

“Go to sleep,” said Fang. “I’ll take the first watch.”

I gave him a grateful smile, and soon I was out, out, out-with no idea how we would ever know it was morning.