Cold- A Maximum Ride Fan fiction
I'm cold. Just so bloody cold…what am I thinking? Am I even thinking? I can't face them this way. I can't face anyone this way. Fang swooped down from the building top; stretching out his powerful, onyx-black wings to catch the breeze. Rapidly, he sped up, shooting into the horizon, leaving behind the New York apartment block which he had called his home for the past six months.
He was running away from the flock- his new flock. His old flock was gone, never to be replaced by these awesome, but simply different individuals. Max was gone, for one.
Coasting on an air current, Fang flew towards the Colorado mountains. Gravel slipped over the edge of the cliff as he skidded onto the ledge which he and Nudge had found so many months ago.
"Good times," he whispered. Silently, Fang traced the familiar lines in the cracked rock face, feeling the excitement, the agony, the freshness of all the times he'd been here wash over him again. Angel's kidnapping; the reunion with Gazzy and Iggy; finding half the flock taken by Flyboys; kissing Max… His hand flopped down by his side. Fang gave the cave one last, longing look, and then with a strong downwards sweep of his wings, flew back into the night.
The air was clean up here. Below him, Fang could see the twinkling lights of a city, which casting shadows on the stars above which he alone could see. It was cold, a biting cold, but Fang was used to it by now. It was not the first time he had flown back to the School.
Lately, unbidden thoughts had crept into the bird-boy's head. They were thoughts of the past- of Max, of the flock, of the School. His present life of ease and laughter with the new flock could not distract him from these haunting, so he had decided to confront his ghosts once and for all. Those were big words for one who had spent so long running away from his past.
The mountain where the School had been perched loomed ahead, as large and as imposing as ever. The ruins of the School were deserted, as they were on every other night he had come. Drawn-out screams and sobs still echoed through the stone castle though, and Fang kept his wings slightly extended, ready to bolt at the slightest hint of danger in the darkness.
A scrape of a shoe behind him and Fang threw himself into the air, spinning in a tight corkscrew to destroy the aim of any sniper. He remembered the last time he had done this manoeuvre in the School compound at that glorious battle with Max. That feeling of being in perfect synchrony with her; being able to match the beat of her wings with his own- it was irreplaceable.
Fang scanned the rubble, looking for the intruder. There was no one that he could see, but Fang did not feel like going down again. Immediately, he thought of how Max would have done so much differently, insisting on going back to search. Coward, she would have taunted. Better that than dead, he would have snapped back.
Out of the corner of his eye, Fang saw the sky begin to tinge orange with the sunrise. He remembered how he and Max would fly into the sun, just to feel its warmth melt the cold from their wings after a long night's flight. Fang turned around and flew away, back to the city where there was still darkness.
You've got to stop thinking about the past, Fang told himself. He knew he would, eventually. Max is gone, whispered his mind. The cold bit deeper, and Fang wrapped his jacket tight around his skinny chest. But he knew that the action was futile, this cold would never truly leave him. No it would never, because Max was dead, and he was so so cold.
