Still own nothing, as all rights go to James Patterson, and another chapter edited by user AM83220.
Consciousness returned gradually, first in the form of physical feeling. The pain which greeted Max upon awakening was enough to make her stomach churn, but not so all-consuming that she couldn't feel the jerk of forward motion. Her feet were not touching the ground. Something hard and firm was curled beneath her shoulder blades and knees.
It took her a moment to grasp that she was being carried, and the realization was humiliating enough to bring her eyes snapping open in horror. The dense African jungle met her wide gaze, as well as the collarbone of her carrier. A warm neck was pressed to her forehead.
Max pulled her face away to see the steady and determined countenance of Omega. Her head had fallen against his shoulder while she'd been out. He was carrying her through the dark jungle, away from the glowing haze of fire which was the Itex base, far off in the distance.
More than unhappy in the role of helpless damsel, Max opened her mouth to scathingly demand that he put her down when he suddenly knelt and placed her behind some brush. Far above she could hear the choppers passing overhead in retreat. The sound of their whipping blades quickly diminished from deafening to faint.
She must not have been unconscious long.
Once out of Omega's arms, she slammed her palm against his shoulder and shoved him away.
"What do you think you're doing?" she snapped. "Where the hell are you taking me?"
"There are still a few remaining Flyboys in the area," he said quietly. Max pursed her lips and resolved to lower her voice in case this was true. Omega paused for a second to glance back in the direction of the fiery remains of the demolished base. Blinking, he looked back down at her where they crouched in the protective screen of the foliage. "You fell from the sky."
"I'm aware," she said unhappily.
"I caught you," he went on. "We should lie low until the Flyboys pass."
"Why, so you can break my neck the second I turn my head?" she hissed, and stiffened when her pain-wracked broken wing gave a particularly awful twinge.
"I told you," Omega repeated in a whisper, "I don't want to fight you."
"Bull!" Their hushed argument reminded her achingly of Fang. There'd been a time not long ago when he would confront her in the dead of night, and despite the emotions fueling their squabbles they would never raise their voices above a whisper.
His eyebrows drew together in a frown.
"It's true," he insisted.
"Then what were you doing in that place? And as the director?" Max asked. He opened his mouth to respond, but she held her hand up and began to force herself to her feet. She had to leave and find the others, Iggy and Gazzy, to make sure they were all right. "You know what? Nevermind. I don't care. Just stay away from me."
Max managed several crouched steps away from Omega. Before she could so much as peer around the bushes to make sure the coast was clear for her getaway, however, the unrelenting pain in her wing weighed her down, and her knees met the jungle floor.
He leaned towards her.
"Your wing," he said simply. The glare she shot at him was enough confirmation for him, it seemed, as he pulled himself to her side despite her hostility. "Let me splint it."
"Oh, and I'm so sure you won't pluck me like a chick in the process!"
His resolute, unmoving position at her side, his refusal to give up, caused her shoulders to sag in defeat. There was actually little desire in her to allow her broken wing to heal wrongly. The last thing she wanted was to grow old with a deformed appendage attached uselessly to her back. The idea of never flying again . . . that was worse than death.
Besides, she could not get far in the jungle on her own while coping with this level of agony. At least if it was splinted the break wouldn't be jostled with every movement she made. Max gritted her teeth and nodded.
"Fine. Splint away."
Omega nodded and moved to peer around the plants that gave them cover. Apparently satisfied that whatever Flyboys had chased after them were not in the immediate area, he disappeared from her view, silent and quick, and Max sighed.
What a freaking horrible situation to be trapped in. Her gut told her his company would do nothing positive for her well-being. Even if he had caught and saved her from an unpleasant splatter, even if he'd fended off her robot attackers in the facility hall, even if he had offered to mend her wing…
Max shook the thoughts from her head and dismissed every act of heroism he'd displayed so far. He had been meant to kill her long ago. He was an enemy, and surely every act of valor would only end in betrayal. Omega's true intentions would reveal themselves before long, and Max needed to keep herself on guard.
The second his betrayal reared its ugly head, she'd be there with her hand fisted and her arm cocked back. It would not catch her unawares again.
Omega soon returned with a reasonably straight and sturdy piece of branch. He nestled himself back in the brush without a word, took the wood in his hands, placed the fingers of both hands between a crack in its center, and wrenched it in half lengthwise for a thinner stick. Max realized they had no bandages on them, and extracted the pocketknife from her jeans and flicked it open.
He stopped suddenly, watching her carefully.
"Chill," Max advised irritably, "I'm just tearing up my shirt so we have something to wrap the splint with."
But when she went to pull her shirt over her head, her black tank top underneath to provide plenty of cover, Max realized she could not take off the garment without tugging at her broken wing. And that was out of the question.
Omega held his hand out, palm up. She stared at it with dislike.
"The knife," he said. "I can cut your shirt away from the back."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Around your wings," Omega clarified. When still she stared him down, he raised an eyebrow and met her glare without fear. "If I wanted to hurt you, I could have done so while you were passed out."
The suggestive pause added what she knew they were both thinking: while she was passed out, in his arms.
She slapped the blade down in his upturned palm, resisting the temptation to give the weapon to him point first.
He made a quick job of it. Even with his skillful hands sawing through the fabric as carefully and efficiently as possible, the occasional yank on the shirt set her wing afire with agony again. Max ground her teeth and tensed until her muscles felt close to imploding. She made sure, however, that not a single whimper of pain escaped her.
The shirt fell away. She shook the sleeves off and let him rip the piece of clothing into strips, glad she still had the tank top for cover.
"Are you ready?" he asked. In response one shoulder lifted with defiant pride; Max didn't dare jostle her left.
"Just be quick about it."
Approximately five minutes later Max felt dizzy and sick enough to wish she'd never woken up in the first place. Her face was flushed with the strain of keeping quiet, as well as the stress of every touch and bend and resetting of the broken bone. Omega's hands were certainly nimble, but not enough to prevent the agony that flared with every touch.
Dizzied with pain, she groaned. "Oh, jeez-"
There was a sharp crack and something too fast to see burst through the bush which covered them, tracing a path through the leaves in a straight line between their heads. A bullet. Max had only time to think Flyboys before Omega snatched her wrist in his vice-like grip and dragged her to her feet at a run. She nearly fell, unprepared for such vigorous action so soon, but quickly cleared her head and straightened her legs to sprint alongside him.
He glanced back to confirm that she was in decent enough shape to continue with him. Max forced a passive mask onto her face, but knew it was an inadequate effort when his eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction.
"Can you go on?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer when another bullet whizzed by and smacked into the low-hanging branch directly over their heads. Instead he yanked her to the side and behind an enormous tree-trunk, grabbed her shoulders, and pushed her low to the ground. Max grunted.
"Excuse you-"
"Quiet," he demanded brusquely.
Scowling, Max turned to look around the tree but was distracted by the tangled mess of roots which curled around their feet. The soft earth around them dipped as it neared the tree, forming a hollow dip beneath the massive trunk that one might fit under. Prodding Omega to gain his attention, Max drew his eyes to the shallow depression amongst the roots and received a nod of understanding. Several pairs of heavy feet were nearing them. The Flyboys would be upon them any second.
She took a fistful of his shirt and proceeded to jam him carelessly into the crawl-space despite his soft grunts of protest and flailing.
"Quiet," she hissed back mockingly.
The rustling grew louder. The Flyboys were but a few yards away, and her heartbeat grew steadily quicker as they drew nearer. Omega settled quietly in the hollow, invisible amongst the shadows and immense, twisting roots, and Max drew a sharp breath of dread as their pursuers gained on their tracks.
A hand appeared from inside the hollow and snatched the front of her jacket, and with a strangled squawk she was yanked down into the space with Omega. Her head smacked against a winding root on the way down, and she rolled onto her stomach in the low, cramped space beside him covered in soil. With her perfect vision she could just barely catch the vengeful quirk to his lips and elbowed him roughly in retaliation.
His body jerked in response, but to his credit Omega made no sound. Which Max found to be fortunate, as the Flyboys chose then to run directly passed their hiding place so closely that she could see the frayed straps of their boots.
The jungle soon grew silent of the Flyboys hunting, and Max sagged into the cool soil and rubbed the tender side of her head that had smacked against the tree.
"Thanks a lot," she spat. Omega remained unperturbed.
"You're welcome."
Only minimally grateful that her injured wing had not suffered the safe fate as her skull, Max examined what they could see of the jungle floor from their lower vantage point.
"Do you see them?" Omega whispered. Sighing, Max shook her head.
"All clear on the murderous robots front," she informed. "Maybe they'll just keep going deeper and deeper in."
"The night is nearly over," said Omega. "We will stay here until morning in case they circle back in our direction."
"I'm not sleeping here with you."
"Then I will rest, and you can forgo any recuperation and act as watch."
He folded his arms beneath him as a pillow and turned away without any further discussion. While Max was certain he would not allow himself to fall asleep in such a compromising situation with only her as his companion, the temptation to beat his infuriatingly flawless face against something made her so restless that the she was sure sleep would never come for her either.
She settled for seething in her own anger at landing in this ridiculous predicament. Omega had accomplished little in the way of gaining her trust. On her side, she nearly laughed at the idea. The only ones on her side were the Flock, and she'd recently learned she couldn't even depend on all of them.
Ruthlessly Max shoved those memories aside, focusing once more on her immediate problem. She gave Omega a final look of suspicion before resting her head upon her arms as he had. Even with half of it already past, this was going to be a long night.
To those of you waiting for an update on Emotions, it will come soon, I promise!