Angel kept her eyes fixed on the window past Dr. Drake's shoulder, using her peripheral vision to look over the geneticist. If his threat was true, that he actually was capable of blowing up the bus, then she didn't see exactly how he would go about doing it. Gazzy knew all about explosives, but nothing about hiding them. No, Angel had learned enough about that from reading the minds of the New Yorkers they had passed by that week. Many of them were thinking about people who had flown big jumbo jets into skyscrapers a few years ago. Others were thinking about the policemen who periodically checked people's bags—maybe they were looking for bombs in them. Yet another group of people with large black hats, funny hair, and who spoke to each other in a language Angel couldn't understand worried about people in another country who would stuff explosives under their shirts and blow themselves up.
Drake didn't seem like the type to do carry explosives that close, Angel considered, and she couldn't read his mind—it seemed that Drake and Jeb had come up with a way to block her; she still didn't quite understand how. A quick glance at the luggage rack above the geneticist's head revealed a large black duffel bag, stamped on the side with the words ITEXICON WORLDWIDE INC. Angel had seen those words at the School, but wasn't sure if they were connected to the scientists. Maybe the explosives were in there? Maybe Drake had a remote detonator?
What do you want with me? Angel asked.
The same few things I've always wanted, Drake replied, turning the page in his newspaper, to see you grow, improve, and maybe take out those miserable saps that run the School so that you may do so in relative safety.
Angel glanced up at Max. She was staring towards the front of the bus, lost in her own head. Maybe she was talking to her own Voice? I don't need you to do that.
At that moment, the bus screeched to a halt and the driver declared "Fifty-Eighth Street! This is where the fun is!"
Next to her, Max jumped, as if she'd been stuck by a cattle prod, and hurriedly tugged Angel along to the bus's rear exit. When you get inside the store, Drake instructed, you are to meet me at the end of the stuffed animals aisle.
Before Angel had time to ask what store Drake had meant, she realized that Max was pulling her across the street and towards the largest toy store she'd ever seen. It had huge glass windows and a large sign "AFO Schmidt" displayed proximately atop its front doors. Inside Angel could both see and hear the thoughts of dozens of children milling about, looking for that perfect toy.
By chance the stuffed animal aisle was almost at the entrance of the building. Stuffed lions, giraffes and bears were lined in orderly rows, all within arm's reach, all with big, warm dark eyes.
Her own eyes wide, Angel wandered towards the end of the aisle. Drake was absent, but tucked amongst a group of stuffed zebras was a stuffed bear, not much bigger than her forearm. Tentatively, she picked it up, admiring its soft fur and warm sewn-on grin. If only the world was run by stuffed animals, Angel thought to herself, they have nothing to hide and they're always happy to see you. A small smile spread over her face as she turned the bear around in her hands. And it's just like me too. Winged, and a bit out of place. Maybe Max will let me have it?
Praying for a miracle, Angel returned to Max and tugged on her flockmate's sleeve. As she did so, she let some of her own weariness seep into her face. Perhaps after what she'd been through, Max would understand.
"I'm so sorry Angel," Max replied, staring at the price tag, "This bear is forty-nine dollars…I don't have anywhere near that…"
Max continued her parade of poor (or so they seemed to Angel) excuses, finishing up by stroking her hair and handing her back the bear.
In that instant, Angel was overcome by a singular frustration; Max hadn't been though the same hell she'd been through the past few weeks. Her face was suddenly warm as Angel felt the blood rush to her head. "But I want it!" she declared vehemently, shoving the bear back at Max.
In kind, Angel noticed as the side of Max's face drooped, the beginning of a scowl, and her eyes drifted from false compassion to an ice-cold stare. "I said no," Max stated flatly, "That's it, kiddo."
Almost at the point of tears, Angel wandered back up the aisle, hugging the little bear to her chest. Maybe she shared more with the bear than she'd first suspected; would she too remain alone, forever?
You can still get the bear, you know.
Angel looked up to notice Robert Drake sitting on a bench at the end of the aisle. He had the duffel bag at his side, and the newspaper tucked under one arm. In fact, Dr. Drake added, I highly recommend you get the bear. The data chips I've installed in its chest stuffing are worth far more than forty-nine dollars—closer to forty-nine million, in fact, and must get to someone very, very special. If it doesn't happen, things may turn out very badly for your little flock.
Just as suddenly, Angel suddenly wanted nothing to do with the bear—the warm eyes were suddenly as fake as Max's had been upon refusing her, and the smile was the silent amusement of a conspirator. I can't, Angel hastily argued, Max won't buy it.
Of course not, Drake countered indignantly, ask someone else.
Why would they buy me the bear any more than Max would?
A slow smile grew on Drake's face. You've changed, Angel, but you don't know it yet. Ask the old lady behind you to buy it, but when you do so, reach out with your mind, the same way you do when trying to read it. But this time, don't just read it; force her to buy the bear. Demand it.
Slowly, Angel turned. Sure enough, an older woman was browsing through a case of stuffed penguins. Behind her, Nudge was still looking through stuffed lions, and Max seemed to be engrossed in a board game in the adjacent aisle.
Putting on her best I-am-sad look, Angel cautiously approached the old lady. "Hello?" Angel asked, her voice shaking with worry as to what might happen.
The lady turned to face her, only half interested, and replied with the same faux-concern Max had shown, "Oh, hello dear. That's a nice bear you have there. Are your parents going to buy that for you?"
At the mention of her parents Angel clamped her jaw shut. If only…
"It's forty-nine dollars," Angel replied matter-of-factly, as if that answered the question.
"That's really expensive. You know, dear, when I was your age, that same bear might have been only a nickel?"
Angel took a deep breath and held up the bear to the old lady. As she did so she reached forward with her mind, as if to read the lady's thoughts. Then, in unison with her voice, Angel shoved into the lady's mind a very firm concept, "You will buy the bear for me."
For a moment, neither said anything. Angel blinked, and she realized that while focusing on the lady, the store had seemed to drop away for a moment, the way things sometimes did when she was thinking deep thoughts. The old lady had a strange look on her face, as if she had been thinking about something as well. "You know," the lady said slowly, hesitantly, "I could buy the bear for you."
Angel gave a fake grin and nodded, then followed the lady to the cashier. She barely had time to wonder if her mind-suggestion had actually worked when the rest of the flock was suddenly about her. "What was that about?" Max demanded, "Why did that woman buy you that bear? That thing cost forty-nine dollars." Iggy concurred, adding that he hadn't been bought anything.
Squeezing the bear to her chest, lest Max demand she return it, Angel spat out a half-truth, "Nothing…I just asked…I really, really wanted it."
None of her flockmates said anything; even Gazzy gave her a confused and worried look. Max took another glance about the store, then muttered, "We're leaving."
They were already outside the toy store before Max pressed further. "So you just asked a stranger to buy you an expensive toy, and she did?"
You can tell them, Drake suddenly interrupted her, it will help keep you safe, it will help me get my computer chips to their destination, and maybe Max will give you the respect you deserve.
Relieved that she could tell the truth, Angel patted the stuffed bear and stated, as nonchalantly as she could, "Yeah. I just asked her to buy it for me. You know, with my mind."
Once, long, long ago Angel faintly remembered seeing Max look absolutely dumbfounded the first time she beat the entire flock in a game of "Twenty Questions" without asking a single one of them an actual question—it had been the first time she'd been able to read their minds without nearly touching her forehead to theirs. The look Max gave her now was very similar.
Quickly, Angel gave Max some idea of what she'd done, but realized halfway through describing the old lady's reaction that she hadn't come up with a name for the bear. Quickly, she cast her thoughts into the head of a a greasy-haired college student on the sidewalk corner and dug up the first thought she could find, a vague image of a very scantily-clad young woman spread out on a bed—for a purpose that Angel couldn't entirely discern or understand—which in turn was attached to a name, along with a number of other words that also escaped Angel's understanding. "I'm going to call it Celeste," Angel finished, hoping Max wouldn't find the name too odd.
In response, Max put up a very brief argument, how it wasn't alright to influence people to do things that they didn't want to do, then went very silent. A quick peak revealed to Angel that Max was in the middle of talking to her Voice, and action which was still causing her great pain.
Max said nothing for a while, then briefly ranted on how difficult it was to find the information Angel had suggested. You shouldn't mind Max, Angel wanted to say, they want you to find the Institute. The longer it takes, the safer we are, the happier I'll be.
In almost immediate response, Drake's Voice shot back, Cowardice will get you nowhere, Angel.
Angel gave a frustrated huff. Who says I want to go where bravery would take me?
Because the world doesn't work that way. Sink or swim, Angel.
"Hello Kids!"
Angel was suddenly snapped out of her reverie as two Erasers dove from the front of a building, skin rippling, gnashing large wolfish teeth. In an instant, one was almost in her face.
Up until she'd been kidnapped, Angel had lead a surprisingly calm life for a six-year-old flying mind reader. Therefore, the trauma of being attacked by the School's foul dog-soldiers wasn't something that left her mind so easily.
She screamed, half expecting to feel those same teeth dig into her shoulder and tear her arm from her body.
Max's reaction was surprisingly fast. She hauled Angel backward, away from the charging Eraser, and raced after the flock back down the streets of New York. She was fast, very fast. Angel almost tripped every other step in comparison as they hurtled down the sidewalk toward the intersection.
Please, Angel pleaded, Dr. Drake, call them off. Give me a hint! Help us! Help me!
For a moment, Drake was silent. Then, in a voice Angel couldn't determine as cold or snide replied flatly, Don't lose the bear.
There was a sudden pain in her left hand and the world spun. For an instant Angel was tumbling through the air, out of control. She caught a brief image of Max being hauled off her feet, and then tumbled again into firm arms.
The next face she saw was the Eraser's.
This chapter contains dialogue elements from The Angel Experiment, Chapters 89-93