Disclaimer: I own none of the Flock, the Erasers, Itex, Jeb, Anne, Marian, etc. I own the setting, but that's it. Enjoy the story!
Chapter 1
After we left Mom's and Ella's house a few weeks ago, we've been on the run, staying incognito, "borrowing" cars and such.
Redundant much?
However, instead of staying in plush, luxurious little caves and feasting on rat a la stick,
I've made the executive decision of checking into a Marriott and getting the food we need with my everlasting bank card.
Keep in mind that this only happened after over 48 hours of fighting, whining, pleading, coaxing and cajoling from the flock. Especially Fang, who, during these past months, has been siding less with me and more with the flock.
But here's how the flock sees this situation: If the world really is going to end, then it would be kind of nice just to relax for a few weeks and have some time to enjoy life before it ends. It took every ounce of self restraint that I had to keep from screaming, Guys, we can't lose our guard! We'll stop the world from ending soon! But there's no way we can do this if you guys want to just stand by and look on as Itex and those other sickos start killing off half the population! We have to get on the ball and start saving the world! They could be carrying on with that right now!
But, of course, that logic was too clear for them to handle.
So here we are, in a posh hotel suite, with heavy bills on my card, the flock completely relaxed and happy, and me-you guessed it-more ticked off and more tense than ever. Not to mention that we're completely vulnerable and would be caught off guard by, say, a Flyboy attack.
Besides, couldn't we be surrounded by enemies at this very moment? Suppose they're in this very hotel, or even in adjoining rooms with us?
"Max?" Nudge hopped up from the bed that she, the Gasman, and Angel were sitting on, watching TV. "Can we order more food? We're getting kind of hungry." I noticed that the twelve dishes that Nudge, Angel and Gazzy had eagerly devoured were almost clean, save for the little bits of veggies, sauces and parsley dotting the plates.
"Nudge, sweetie, can we not? It was bad enough that we had to order twenty-four dishes for only six of us. Can't you wait until tomorrow?"
"But we're hungry," Nudge whined.
Angel and the Gasman turned their Bambi eyes toward me.
Fang, who was updating his blog in the sitting room, turned to me and almost smiled. I gave him a death look that said, If you do not help me, I will kill you.
Sighing, he said, "Max is trying to keep us from blowing our cover. Why don't you have the candy basket left by the maid?"
Huffing, Nudge grumpily stomped over to the breakfast nook, grabbed the basket, and stomped back to the bed.
Iggy came out of the bathroom, whistling. "Gaz," he called. "Your turn for the shower."
The Gasman jumped up, then let out a earsplitting and deadly fart. His awful stench filled the room, and we all started gagging and choking.
"GAZZY!" I hollered.
Fang raced to the light switch and turned on the fan, holding his breath. It didn't really help, though.
Nudge and Angel were coughing, fanning the air. Nudge was swearing like a sailor. I made a mental note to give her a lecture about swearing.
"Gazzy, what the heck did you eat?!" Iggy bellowed.
The Gasman shrugged, looking sheepish. "I think it was the refried beans."
"REFRIED BEANS?!"
"I don't know. It was something like that."
"Gaz, here's a tip," I fumed, about to blow my top. Not just from him, from the whole situation in general. "Next time, don't ever order beans!"
