"You have got to be freaking kidding me."
Maximum Ride stared in disbelief at the mess in the kitchen. Busted bags of potato chips were strewn all across the floor and the dining table, mingling with the splattered red swathes of salsa. As she mentally tracked the trajectory of the salsa splash, she craned her head upwards.
"Oh my god. That does it. GAZZY, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" she shrieked. "I PUT YOU IN CHARGE OF THE KITCHEN, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?"
Max glared at the gaping hole in the ceiling. What freaked her out was the fact that her actual bedroom was located right above the flipping hole.
A drip of salsa fell from the gaping hole, and Max utterly lost it. With a fiery shriek of rage she turned, sprinted across the living room, and vaulted up the stairs. A sinister scene greeted her when she charged into her room, and she froze, her mouth gaping in horror.
It was as if a tornado had ripped through the place. Her bedframe lay toppled over in the middle of the floor. The gaping hole on the far side of the room was splintered with the roughly-cracked edges of her nicely polished floorboards. And her laptop computer... lay in two pieces... on the... floor...
Max dropped to her knees and moaned. "NOOOO not my laptop no my laptop no this can't be happening my laptop my freaking laptop oh my... god... oh my god..." She stood up.
In the dim evening light filtering through the curtains she had almost missed it. But there is was, plain as daylight. Feathers. They were strewn over the wreckaged scene, filling the cracks in the floorboard, pasted to the ceiling and walls, and lightly covering the overturned bed. Her heart plummeted, and she felt a chill creep over her spine.
Have they been fighting again? She reached down and picked a feather off the floor. She automatically reached for the light switch, but when she flicked it, nothing happened. A quick glance upwards told her that the light had shattered. Oh no. This is not good, not good at all. She grabbed a handful of feathers and raced to the stairway.
She glanced at the handful of feathers in the light and confirmed her deepest fears. Silky black and lightest blonde. Why? Why would they do this... Without thinking further, she wrenched open the stairway window, punched out the screen, and launched herself outside.
The cool night air caressed her cheeks as she surged towards the heavens. The light was fading from the sky now; the puffy battalions of glowing pink and orange clouds added a peaceful touch to the scene. Max ignored her growing panick and fought the air, urging herself to go higher, higher. She didn't care if people saw her. She didn't care if they took photos or called the cops. The only thing she cared about right now was finding Fang and Dylan. And for that matter, where the hell were Gazzy and the rest of the crew?
The forest dropped down below her until the trees were nothing but tiny specks of darkening green. The clouds above her steadily grew in size. Their pink-and-orange hue had already shifted into the subtler shades of purple and scarlet. Why would they do this to me? WHY? she raged. I do EVERYTHING for them, and they repay me with this? She whirled around in the air and hovered, scanning the surrounding skies and the darkening forest below.
The forest was dark already. It held no glimmering lights, so there was nothing that indicated that the gang was camping out there. She shifted slightly and scrutinized the field and the meadow. Again, no lights. She could dimly make out the form of the ratty old car parked by the side of the house, but the car had broken down recently and nobody would be hiding out there.
Whoosh-shka, whoosh-shka, whoo-osh-shka... her steady wingbeats filled the silent void. Her breath fogged the air. Why would they do this to her? Dylan and Fang she could understand. But why would they fight like that? With such viciousness and violence? Something else must have happened...
The night air bit into her skin, filling her bones with a creaking weariness. Where the heck are they? she wondered. The tiny broken-down garage was dark and silent. With a sudden shock she knew that something must be there. It was just a feeling, and it was a creepy feeling. But she had to check the place out. Something about it was just not right...
She gave a powerful surge with her wings and dove towards the darkened building. The air whistled past her ears and hair, causing her eyes to water with tears. When she was close enough to the building to see the cracked and gaping roof of the place, she slowed down and circled overhead. Nothing seemed amiss, and she lightly landed on top of the place, just far enough from the largest gap. From here she could escape quickly if the need arose.
She knelt and slowly, carefully, crept over to the edge of the gap and looked down.
What she saw made her scream.
Without thinking, she dove through the ragged edges of the roof and crashed heavily into the pile of hay, raining a shower of roof fragments upon the bloody figure curled on its side. It moaned weakly and attempted to turn on its side. A spasm of pain seized it and caused it to curl up again, twitching slightly.
"Fang," she breathed. Fear gripped her chest, and she quickly glanced around the room. Nobody else was here.
"Fang, it's alright," she said soothingly, although her heart was pounding from shock. "It's me, Max," she said as she slowly approached him. "Can you hear me? It's Max... "
The figure stirred slightly. "Max," it whispered.
"Don't move, you'll be alright," she said. She reached his curled-up form and took a deep, frightened breath.
The sun had already set, but Max could see the state her Fang was in. She shivered from shock.
His torn and bloodied wings were lacerated with a series of bloody gashes. Long, weeping scratches seeped through his violently ripped white t-shirt, and a frightening pool of blood lay glistening by the side of his belly. Matted clumps of feathers stuck to his wounds. As if to frighten her more, a series of violent twitches seized his body, and she saw his jaw muscles tighten in agony.
"Fang..." she mouthed.
He was way too injured to move. There was no other option... she would have to treat him here, in the ratty old broken-down garage with the musty piles of hay. She had no other choice... and if she didn't act soon... she shuddered as he uttered a strained cry. "Fang I'll be right back," she shrieked, and crashed out the door, sprinting towards the house.
She wrenched the back door open and raced through the living room and up the stairs. She took a sharp right in the hallway and smashed open the bathroom door. She frantically wrenched open the cupboard and grabbed handfuls of medicine.
Need something to carry this in... she tore through the hallway, her arms full of bottles of medicine, rolls of bandages, and packets of painkillers. She did a sharp left and entered Angel's tiny room, where she threw the supplies onto the bed and ripped the pillowcase off the pillow. With one sweep she forced the medicines into the pillowcase and raced back to the bathroom, where she quickly cleaned off the shelves. Hydrogen peroxide, she muttered, emergency aid pack, cotton ball bag, antibacterial gels...
When everything had been collected she raced to the still-open window at the stairway and dove out, clutching the pillowcase in both hands. The fierce chill of the incoming night bit her nose and ears. She ignored the pain and reached the garage in fifteen wingbeats and crashed through the roof again.
She landed heavily in the haypile and crawled to Fang, who lay at the edge of the heap of hay. She arranged the bottles and packages of supplies on the dirty floor, being careful to avoid to puddle of blood from Fang's belly. When all the bottles and packages had been placed, she tossed aside the pillowcase and ripped open the emergency first-aid pack.
In less than fifteen seconds, the cheap electric lantern was lit and the three flashlights were switched on and arrayed on the floor. Max grabbed the smallest flashlight and jammed the handle between her teeth, then swung over to Fang.
He already seemed paler and less-awake. Max pulled on a pair of plastic gloves and gently felt along Fang's spine and the base of his neck.
"Max..." he whispered. "Check... my stomach..."
Max gritted her teeth tighter around the flashlight and leaned forward, trying to shine the light behind the crook of his arm. The pool of blood glinted ominously in the lamplight.
"Fang, you can talk. I am going to move you a bit more on your side, okay? If it is too much, then tell me, okay?" Max spit out the flashlight and knelt in front of Fang's curled-up belly. "You hear me?" Max's heart pounded. "Ready? One... two... th-"
"AaaaAAa-aAAGHHH!"
His agony made her heart freeze solid like ice. But Max knew they couldn't call the ambulance. Ever since the Erasers had infiltrated the government, they couldn't trust anybody. Not even the doctors or surgeons. And yet, in the face of Fang's rippingly painful and horrible agony, her heart was wavering...
With effort she managed to get him on his back. "It's alright, Fang, I'm here, you'll be alright..." her voice trailed off at the sight before her eyes.
Fang's stomach had a gooey, oozing, bloody red stab mark right on the upper left side of his belly-button.
Max gulped. "Fang," she said slowly, "We are making a trip to the ER room."