Part 2: Fix It

Martinez House—Headquarters

Gazzy could hardly contain his laughter and Nudge was about to strangle him. She ran to the laptop and with the pushing of a few buttons the connection was terminated.

"I can't believe you. What were you thinking?" Nudge said tensely. She just stared at the screen; she wouldn't even look at him.

"Oh come on, Nudge, it was just a prank. I was just kidding around," Gazzy said offhandedly.

"No!" she exclaimed, lost for words. How could she get him to understand what he'd done? "What you were just doing was sending Max into panic mode. Think about the situation! We may have to abandon the mission now," Nudge said, glaring at him.

Gazzy had never seen her quite this angry. He thought about the situation. Maybe Nudge was right. "I'm sorry! Nudge, what do we do?"

Nudge took a deep breath. They could fix this. They had to. "The first thing we do is tell Iggy what you just did."

His eyes went wide. "No. We can't do that. Iggy would do cartwheels, and then he'd give birth to a bovine right here in the communications room."

Nudge rolled her eyes. "IGGY!" she called.

Gazzy lowered his blond head. This wasn't going to be pretty.

Iggy sauntered into the room. "What is it, Nudge?"

"Iggy, we have a problem," Nudge said softly.

"And that is?" he asked worriedly, not one to let suspense build. That was usually Max's job.

"Gazzy just told Max that Fang's dead. He thought it'd be funny," she replied in the same sort of tone Max would have used, reliving the annoyance and fury.

It took a few seconds before Iggy's face changed expression. The younger blonde boy sitting a few feet from him waited for the eventual freak out. It didn't come.

Iggy took a few quick steps towards Gazzy.

WHACK! Gazzy felt the hand crash on the back of his head.

"I don't care how you do it, but fix it. You apparently don't quite see the circumstances. Max is on a plane, stressed out to begin with, and you just told her that her best friend, the person we all know she has feelings for, one of her flock, and probably the most important person in it, is dead! Fix it!" Iggy turned to Nudge. "Get a connection going to Max. We have to fix this," he said.

Why he'd put Gazzy in charge of that conversation instead of writing a script he'd never know. Well, maybe he did. It could have had something to do with the fact that Ella had mentioned she needed some help in the work she was doing outside. Next time, he'd write the dialogue and go over the plan first, help girl later, hard as that may be.

Nudge looked at Gazzy and shook her head. In moments another connection was being established and Gazzy was looking miserable as he waited for Max to pick up the phone and Iggy's ensuing orders of what to say.

Mission Subject 1—Alpha Wings

I couldn't breath. The room was starting to turn around me. All I could think about was the horrible things I'd said before I'd left for the mission. The accusations and harsh words that would be my last to somebody who had meant so much to me.

"You want to go ahead and go to Canada, fine. Don't expect me to be happy about it. You know that we weren't supposed to split up, but just because some...some snow-bunny calls you up in the middle of the night with a cryptic message you're going to Canada anyway!"

"Max, it's not like that and you know it."

"Whatever, Fang. I'll deal with you when I get back."

Suddenly I felt violently ill. I pulled down the zipper on my pull-over, hoping fresh air would help. It didn't. I was panicking. Everything seemed even more suspicious then normal. The flight attendants were looking at me strangely. A young woman stepped over to me. "Miss, are you alright?" she asked.

Alright? Alright?! I just shook my head and charged for the lavatory. It was occupied. I stood there staring at the door, willing the old lady or fat businessman inside to finish and leave. After what felt like ages later the sign switched to "vacant" and a harassed-looking woman and her young son stepped out of the small cubicle. I barely waited for them to get out of the door's range before shoving past them, slamming the door, and locking it behind me.

I knew I was hyperventilating. Calm down. Slow, deep breaths. Now is not the time to have a panic-attack. I looked in the mirror and turned on the sink, splashing cold water on my face. As used as I was to death, horrors, and all the etcetera that came with being an avian hybrid on the run from her creators, I was only one girl. I only had five freaking people I truly trusted in the whole world—almost seven, now. One of them couldn't…leave me.

Oh, God, oh, God, not Fang, not Fang, not Fang—my mind froze.

"This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening." It was the "Max Mantra." What I said to try and keep the attacks to a dull roar. The Three D's, as Fang put it. "Deception, Delusion, and Denial." If I could make it go away for a while, I could make it through.

The world was spinning faster and faster. Reality wasn't retreating and my pulse raced faster and faster. Breathing was becoming impossible. It felt like there was an elephant sitting on my chest.

Everything was starting to grow dim and fuzzy around the edges. Then I just fainted onto the floor.

Martinez House—Headquarters.

Iggy was becoming more and more concerned.

"Nudge," Gazzy said, becoming more and more concerned. "Max isn't answering her phone. I just got sent to voice mail. Try it again."

Nudge was becoming more and more concerned, too. What a team they made…

There was no way to know what a panicked, grief-stricken Max could do on an International Airline Flight a couple thousand miles above ground.

"Connection's go!" she whispered and she could hear the phone ringing in Gazzy's hand, again. Come on, Max, answer the phone, she thought worriedly. If Gazzy kept this stuff up Max wasn't going to be the only one with an ulcer after this mission.

Mission Subject 1—Alpha Wings

Something was making a loud grinding noise. I looked around blearily. My phone was rattling across the bathroom floor. I sat up and grabbed the phone without even looking at the ID.

"Max," I said softly, my voice hoarse.

"Hey, Max. This is Jerry, one of the guys at the Canada Base. I was to inform you that Fang has arrived to the meeting place. He wanted to tell you himself when he got to the safe house but he's dead asleep on the couch. He must have had a bad flight or something. I tried calling you earlier but I had really crappy signal and I wasn't sure that you got the message," a nasally voice reported into the phone, his voice breaking in mid-word.

"Thanks. That means a lot to me. Tell Fang when he wakes up that...well, just tell him that I want to speak to him when he gets the chance," I said wearily, but suddenly trembling with relief.

"Sure, first thing. I hope there wasn't any miscommunication or anything," Jerry said.

I laughed bitterly. Miscommunication? Just a bit, yeah. "Actually, I only heard 'Fang's dead' and, well, let's just say I wasn't very happy," I said, keeping a minimum amount of the automatically lashing-out sarcasm in my voice. It wasn't this kid's fault the signal was awful.

"Oh, jeez, sorry about that Max. I assure you he's perfectly fine, drooling on my couch as we speak," Jerry said with a small, nervous laugh.

Suddenly I felt silly for my panic attack. "Yeah, I know. You just make sure Fang calls me. Oh, and Jerry...?"

"Yeah, Max?" he asked.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Fang—or anyone—about this," I said in my Maximum-Jedi-mind-trick voice. Anyone got hold of the itty-bitty fact that when faced with Fang's death I went into a complete panic-attack, the results wouldn't be pretty. Not that I wouldn't have gone into a panic attack if it had been any other member of the flock…

"Absolutely. Sorry for the trouble. Won't happen again. Will have Fang call. Gotta go now," Jerry rattled nervously. Then the line went dead.

I hung up. "Weird," I said out loud and looked at the phone. I stood up, still weak from my lovely freak-out and turned off the water, trying to compose myself.

Ding. Ding. Ding. "Hello, this is your pilot speaking. We've had some unexpected weather delays and will have to wait for clearance to land. This will not affect our physical landing and everything is safe. Please bear with us through this delay. Thank you for flying with—"

Great, just spiffy. Another hour floating around in circles above an airport. I left the bathroom and sat back down at my seat, grabbing the first magazine I could find. I opened it to a random page, only to be confronted with a two-page spread of me and Fang.

The headline read, "Two Avenging Angels Paving the Way for Universal Morality."

Just freaking great. I looked at the photo. It showed me at a rally in D.C., Fang standing beside me. We were looking at each other in such a way that if you weren't there you might think there was something more between us then just friendship. I swear, we never looked that way at each other, especially not for a camera to pick up—did we? Well, that's what the article suggested.

"Close your eyes and picture a world where large, military-funded corporations can play God and create a hybrid of avian and human beings resulting in children having the ability to fly with a pair of magnificent, functional wings. Now open them, because it isn't an illusion anymore. This is real and it's already happened.

"Supposedly, ITEX Corp. has been genetically enhancing human DNA, much like a mad scientist out of a B-rated horror film, with minimal success. That is, until 15 years ago. That is how Maximum Ride (known as 'Max') and her 'flock,' as she calls the five other escaped victims of the corporation's experiments, came to exist.

"Max and her right-hand man, known only as 'Fang,' have set rallies ablaze across the globe, all starting with the well-known blog entitled '12 wings, 6 kids and 1 blog.' The blog gave a no-holds-barred, blow-by-blow account of the whereabouts and actions of the ITEX Corporation—and the flock's desperate struggle for freedom.

"One may wonder if being in such close quarters to a person who is also an avian hybrid of the opposite sex and the same age would result in an in-air romance? Don't expect any new cherubs anytime soon; "We're very close friends, that's all!" is what Max had to say when asked about the closeness between her and Fang..."

I just wanted to rip my hair out. Why, why, why couldn't they just take me at my word on this? Why did everybody have to poke their noses into my non-existent romantic relationship with Fang? It was so infuriating. It's not like Fang was the only one I was close to in the flock—all of us were one, close family. 'Sides, even if I did have feelings for him other then that of a good friend, why should the rest of the known world have to know about it?

Disgusted, I threw the magazine in the first direction I could aim. It hit the person in front of me with a loud "shlofph."

"Hey! Why'd you—wait, aren't you Max Ride?" asked the young man.

Oh the joys of being photographed.