Blood
By MyNameIsCAL
Two Years Ago
-Max's POV-
Whoever they were, they had Fang tied to a chair. Light blinded us, but we couldn't see them. Fang and I had gone out to eat, our usual Friday night now that Fang and I had finally gotten our own place together.
"Where is Jeb Batchedler?" a voice growled at us.
"He's dead!" Fang spat.
Out of the darkness, a knife came, slashing Fang across his left cheek. He bit back a cry, eyes shut.
"He is not dead and you know where he is," the voice said quietly. "Tell us where he is or we'll kill her."
Fang shook his head. "He's dead. I swear to god."
The knife came slicing again, and this time, Fang let out a grunt.
"Don't lie to us! We know what he's doing! He's building an army to take over the world." It was a different voice now. One that was rougher. "And you're part of it! Didn't he create you?"
"No we're not! And if he's still alive, then we're against him." If it weren't for the rope, Fang would have fallen out of his chair already.
"Kill her."
"NO!"
A gunshot went off and I fell to the floor. Fang's screams seemed distant as things went dark around the edges. Just as I thought it was all over, I felt someone grip my hand.
Present Day
Ever since that day, I had been so sure it was Fang who had held my hand, but when I woke up at the hospital, Fang wasn't there. Angel said there hadn't been any trace of Fang except his blood.
I sat at the local bar with Iggy. For the past two years, he had become my best friend. Not long after Fang disappeared, Ella broke up with Iggy. He had been living with her in college, and all the details were fuzzy to me, but he needed a place to live and I wasn't doing very well living in my apartment alone, so I let him move in.
And our relationship was never one of romance. He was still hopelessly in love with Ella anyway, even if he wouldn't admit it, and I could never think of Iggy that way anyway.
"Max, we should go home soon," he muttered.
"Why?" I grumbled.
"This is your fifth beer and I've already had enough sodas to keep me up all night." He drained the last of his cup. "And we can't cross streets if you can't see straight."
I let out a sigh. "Just one more."
"Alright."
It was two hours later that I stumbled out of the bar, Iggy holding me by the arm and guiding me instead of the opposite. We stood for a long time at the corner as he listened for passing cars, and only when he couldn't hear any approaching did we venture across the street.
We collapsed on the couch. Well, I collapsed and he sat out of exhaustion. And that was when emotions just flooded into me, and I was suddenly crying.
"Max…" He put an awkward arm around me as I slouched against him.
Unfortunately, Iggy was used to this. Whenever we went out to the bar, I ended up like this, thinking too much about Fang. And even though I knew this would happen, I always convinced Iggy that we should go, watch the game, and have a few drinks and appetizers. He was just too nice to refuse.
"Max, there was nothing you could do," he whispered. "You're lucky to be alive. And that's what matters because you know he would have sacrificed himself for you anyway. I know that doesn't quite sound comforting, but it's the truth, and you know that."
Still, I sobbed.
"C'mere." He pulled me into a hug. "It's gonna be okay, Max."
I cried into his shoulder for a long time, enough to tire myself out.
When I woke in the morning on the couch with a headache, there was a blanket draped over me. Iggy sat at the end of the couch, the news on the lowest possible volume.
"There's been some kind of…" He trailed off. "They're calling it a massacre. It sounds terrible. Maybe when it comes on the news again, you'll see it."
Surely enough, it didn't take long for it to come back on.
"New developments in the Mental Hospital Massacre," the news reporter said. "If you're just joining in, last night a man ran into the local police station covered in blood. Before killing himself, he told the police that he had killed all of his patients because for years he had been experimenting on them and things were getting out of hand.
"The police then went to the place, finding blood everywhere. According to records they found, none of the patients had any family or anyone looking after them. This appears to be how the doctor, whose name has not yet been released, was getting away with human experimentation.
"A source just reported there was one survivor. He had been taken to the hospital last night. One of the doctors there has something to say to all of you."
The screen switched to a press conference in a room. The wall behind a doctor in a whitecoat had the insignia of the hospital a few minutes away.
The doctor cleared his throat. "Rarely do we reach out to the public like this, but this man is in distress. He's no older than twenty-five. I'm reaching out because I believe he needs someone to help him, and not a doctor. He won't talk to us and he's not cooperating with our efforts to help him. If you know anything about this man, I urge you to come to the hospital or call us."
The reporter returned to the screen. "Police released a sketch of the man. According to one of our sources, he was found covered in blood. He is highly unstable and police had to tranquilize him to transport him to the hospital…"
The sketch that appeared on the screen was the face of a man with an unruly beard. There was a scar over his left eye and he had a dark complexion.
"Fang…"
"What?" Iggy raised an eyebrow.
"We're going to that hospital. Get dressed." I rose off the couch.
We touched down in the hospital parking lot. The cops were trying to hold back a crowd of reporters. I recognized one of them as the sheriff. He started over to us.
"Ms. Ride, what brings you here?" he asked quietly. "Have you seen the news?"
I glanced over at the reporters. "I think that man that survived is Fang, Sheriff Marks"
He too glanced at the reporters. "Alright, let's get you inside."
We entered the hospital, leaving the reporters confused.
"You know, I wasn't even thinking it could be him," Sheriff Marks said. "It's been two years now, hasn't it? I remember all the blood where we found you. Maybe I should have made the connection."
We entered an elevator. Iggy shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable. Not only were we in an elevator, but it was a hospital elevator.
"The survivor is very unstable," the sheriff went on. "But if it's him, then maybe you can get him to calm down. The doctor had to sedate him a couple times already, but you're stronger than us, so the effects aren't as long lasting."
The doctor we had seen on the news at home was pacing outside a door. There were two cops stationed on both sides of the door.
"Dr. Cooper," the sheriff stuck out his hand. "We believe that man in there is one of Max's friends."
The doctor blinked. "You mean Maximum Ride?"
"Yes." Sheriff Marks moved out of the way. "And her friend Iggy."
Dr. Cooper stuck his hand out to me. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard all about you when you were on the news. And well, gosh, that was a while ago. I remember when Fang went missing."
"So how's he doing?" The sheriff motioned to the door.
"He's calmed down. I told him we'd untie him from the bed if he promised not to try and leave. He seemed to agree to that." Dr. Cooper grabbed a binder from a cart. "You know, when I was examining him last night, there were these distinctive cuts down his back. Perhaps where wings should go."
I gulped. Fang's wings gone? Iggy seemed to have flushed a shade lighter, if that was even possible.
"I'll let one of you go in with the sheriff," Dr. Cooper told us. "He's been through a lot though. I'm actually surprised he isn't trying to resist us more than he has."
The doctor put his hand on the door and turned the knob. He entered first, and then the sheriff and me. The man sat in the corner of the room, legs pressed up against his chest as he rocked back and forth. His eyes were closed, and when they finally opened, they were unmistakable.
"Fang…"
He jumped up. "You're not real!"
I took a step towards him, fighting the tears. "I am."
"You're just l-lying to me." He tried to move away from me, but his back was already up against the wall. "H-have you come to torture me again? I-Is it because I ruined your plan?"
"What're you talking about, Fang?" I held out my hand.
"The doctor is dead, Fang," Sheriff Marks said.
Fang stared at my hand.
"I swear to you that we're not trying to trick you." I sucked in a breath. "Iggy's outside in the hallway."
Fang slid down against the wall, eyes shut.
"I-I see this all the time in my dreams," he muttered. "I r-r-reach out for your hand and then everything d-disappears."
I kneeled down in front of him. "I promise that won't happen. Not this time. Not anymore. I've come to take you home, Fang."
Still, he shook his head.
"Fang…" I could no longer hold back my tears. "Please…"
He lifted a shaking hand.
I reached out and grasped it. Our eyes met for a moment, and then for the first time ever, Fang began to cry.
Well, here's another new story for you. Hopefully I'll have some updates soon. Thanks for reading!