\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/
\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/
-Max POV-
"Max? Max, it's time to get up…"
I groaned, shifting to the right. I brought my forearm over my eyes, twisting to the right a bit more. I felt little tingles when I moved, and I knew I was gonna hit something. Something hard, inanimate, most likely. I'd know if whatever I'd hit would be alive. I've certainly had enough experiences to tell.
I could've stopped, slowed down just the tiniest bit to lessen impact, or just twist the other way, but I was practically asleep. Reactions, reflexes, and all the other Rs were technically on hold. Not 'till after two minutes or less, but still on hold for a bunch more seconds.
Yet instead of what could have most likely been—what should have been, considering the current state of things—rock, metal, or bark scraping at my fingertips and tearing through my nails (exaggeration, I know) was a soft kind of feeling, almost like an actual pillow—and believe me, that's a huge step up the mutant lifestyle.
But then the pillowy sensation gently wrapped itself around my fingers. It took a few seconds to get the gears on my head whirring enough to realize that my hand collided with, well, a hand. Especially since I definitely felt fingers smoothly curving down the middle of each of mine from the back of my hand.
I felt my mouth curving up into a small smile, and I had no clue why. It felt real good, but I was supposed to be awake, darn it!
I shifted to the right again, this time limiting my movements, making sure not to get too close to whatever I was supposed to hit. I felt the hand wrapped around mine loosen its grip, brushing against my the back of my hand. Slowly, I felt a strand of hair sweep up behind my ear. Tingles swept through my skin, and I shuddered faintly at the gentle touch.
I figured that I should've at least opened my eyes, but mumbling "five more minutes" was being highly considered. I really needed the sleep. And I guess I've deserved it. I deserve even more than just five minutes. But I never take any of that into consideration, now, do I? I deserve a lot of things, when you think about it. I deserved a safe home with my family—we all did—and yet here I was, sharing a cave with a couple of bats. Life hardly considered justice when dealing with six—five, I reminded myself with a gut wrenching groan—freaky bird kids on the run.
Whatever I deserve—like winning the lottery—can wait as long as forever. There are more people I care about and love that deserve what they deserve as soon as they can get it. My own selfish needs and everything I should have had since I was born shouldn't get in the way of anything, especially my family.
"Come on, Max, wake up.."
"I'm awake, I'm awake…" I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.
I heard a small chuckle from above me, and I felt another strand of hair being brushed back behind my ear. I stifled another possibly embarrassing shudder and opened my eyes slowly, twisting the opposite direction to get my back correctly on the ground. No matter how many times I've slept on solid, uncomfortable stuff, I never seemed to get used to the aches and numbness that came packaged with the deal. It proves that sleeping solidly on your back is possibly the best position to lie on anything. Now I'm really starting to understand why the patients at hospitals are stuck like that.
"Mornin', sleeping beauty," Iggy said, looking down at me.
Sleeping beauty?
I blinked, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the light. For soaking us to the bone and nearly killing me last night, the sky was pretty cheery as of late. The darn place never ceases to amaze. At the worst of situations, the worst of times, and the worst of moods, it comes out bright blue and pretty. Exact opposite. It felt like it was mocking us. Blaming us. Blaming me. It used to be our sky. Our safe haven. But know all it did was rub it in our faces. My face.
"You know what," Iggy continued, wearing a smile unlike any I've seen on him before. "That was probably the best sleep you've ever had."
"Huh?" Sure, it was longer than usual. And sure, I was on absolutely no watch last night—which I was supposed to be—but the best sleep I've ever had? I honestly don't know.
"Well, the whole night you were just plain asleep," Iggy answered. "No mumbling, no shifting and moving so much, and you had the most peaceful face on."
"…wow…" was all I came up. Now that he mentioned it, though, I pretty much slept, then woke up. No dreams. At least, not that I know of. "Really?"
"Yeah," Iggy replied. "Weird, huh? Specially with what's happenin'…"
I suddenly heard a slightly loud thump from somewhere in the limited distance. I groggily got up from Iggy's lap and—wait a minute. Iggy's lap?! How the hell did I end up—
"Max?"
I blinked and looked around for the source of the voice, finding Nudge sleepily making her way towards us, luckily rubbing her drowsy eyes.
"Y-yeah, Nudge?" I asked, tucking in lose strands of my hair behind my ear. For some reason, I felt like my hair was one huge mess and had attracted bugs or something.
Nudge continued rubbing her eyes, only opening one barely and saying, "I'm hungry…"
Figures.
"Oh, okay," I said. "I-Iggy?"
Why the heck was I stuttering?
He shrugged. "Bacon and eggs OK?"
Nudge nodded, "'Kay…"
Iggy gave a nod and stood up, briefly placing a hand on my shoulder before walking away. I watched him as he took out a small pack of raw bacon, moving gracefully over to the bonfire. He lit a fire with two rocks almost instantly, carefully and strategically making a small stand-and-pan for the bacon to cook. I couldn't help but stare at his face, gentle, smooth…
But sightless.
I gazed at his deep blue eyes: blank, empty, devoid of any emotion. The eyes told everything being concealed by a face, and I should know, but it really seemed like Iggy had no problem hiding it in. Not when there was anything he'd have to look at. All he had to do was master the annoying art of impassivity and I'd never be able to know what he's feeling.
Just like Fang had.
My chest throbbed again, and I nearly winced. My vision started getting blurry again, but I blinked it away. I leaned my back on the tree behind me, sighing.
In the blurry distance, I saw Nudge drowsily climbing back up to the cave, too sleepy to even fly up. I vaguely remembered that last night, after nearly getting killed by a freaking lightning bolt, eating something black and tasted indistinctly of gunpowder and spitting it back out, Iggy having to force me to sleep—without much effort, apparently—and Iggy taking a whole night's watch, technically getting sleep, but his senses still up and running on full throttle. I remember waking up in the middle of the night somehow, getting pelted by small, barely noticeable raindrops, while Iggy's head, hovering protectively over me, was soaked, yet his face was peaceful, more peaceful than I'm used to seeing him. I guess when we're supposed to rest, supposed to tone down a bit, to call it a night, we'd have some sort of tendency to just, for once, calm down and be at peace. Whether a dream or no, the look on Iggy's face was absolutely priceless, and I would give anything to see that look on him and the Flock for as long as they live. We deserved it. And I should know.
I blinked again, sighing. It felt like my head was being repeatedly banged against a brick wall. Not that I've felt an actual head-on collision with a brick wall, but I've gotten relatively close, if not over-the-top. But that's just me, you know? Over-the-top paranoid Max. No chance at survival without over-the-top-ness and paranoia. Nope. No way. It's just the annoying fact that I might actually be losing my grip on my own sanity. I mean, I've kept it at bay, if not perfectly fine—for me, that is—but it's like, since the time he left, I've never actually been holding it together. At least, not by myself. It's literally as if Fang had been the one holding me together, keeping my sanity in check, leading the Flock. He was too important to lose.
But he just went on and got lost anyway.
I wrapped my arms tightly around my knees, staring blankly to one side, not even bothering to shield my obvious misery. It's just like delving into peer pressure or something. But in this case, it's just diving into the state of depression we'd somehow put ourselves into. Right now, most probably, Iggy is the best at concealing what was supposed to be devastatingly obvious. It's probably because of his being blind; the fact that he has no one to look at—no one to have to look at—just because he knows it would be no use.
It was only now that I've realized, fully realized, what Iggy has been going through for so many years. Since losing his sight, he's lost nearly everything. When he ever calls someone, that person would never look back. Not in a literal sense, but in his blind eyes. Whatever he does, he won't know if maybe, just maybe, someone had turned to him and responded to his call. All he'd see was darkness. Whoever he turns to wouldn't consider Iggy's attention grabbed. The light in his eyes, the usual joy, fierceness, determination, was no more than a blank look. It was as if he was looking without looking. Only supposedly staring right at you. There was never anything else he'd seen but emptiness; nothing.
"Max, stop moping around and eat breakfast."
What the—?!
"I'm sorry—what?" I said, shaking my head.
For some unexplainable reason, my attention span shorted out. If it had been on full throttle—as usual—I would've accidentally smacked Iggy's face—which shot down to meet mine.
For some other unexplainable reason, blood was pouring up my face. I could practically feel my cheeks going red, but I had no idea why.
"Max," Iggy said, raising an eyebrow at me, his tone serious.
His face was inches from mine. Most likely two, three inches, but who's counting? There was still the fact that his face was that close. Maybe even closer.
"F-fine, fine," I blabbered. "J-just—just don't get so close."
I poked a finger on his forehead and pushed his head backwards, hearing one of his cute laughs. He smiled at me and swiped away a few strands of hair from my face.
"Yep yep," Iggy said, grinning at me. "Make sure you keep standin' tall or I'll be all over your face."
Somehow, that didn't sound like such a bad idea.
"U-uh, yeah, whatever," I replied. "Like hell am I even letting you go all over my face."
He smirked, laughing. "You'll never know, Max. You'll never know."
"I'm rolling my eyes, Ig," I said, chuckling.
"I know," he replied briefly, no more than an unclear mumble.
Whaa?
He stood up and dusted off his pants, holding out his hand in front of me. I almost cautiously took it, wondering to myself why he said he knew I was rolling my eyes. Apart from the bleariness, though, there was the fact that I was a bit, uh…woozy after Iggy had his face so freakin' close to mine, so I could've just imagined it, and either yet, it made my head a bit unorganized more than it really is. So, better yet wondering about that later.
Iggy helped me up and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, swiping his hand on the side of my head, making a few strands of hair fly forward and on my face. He held me by the forearm as I swayed on the spot, my legs not quite as awake as the rest of me. As soon as I was steady, he laughed and skidded off to one side, grabbing a few meals and unfurling his wings, making a gentle yet powerful takeoff to the cave opening not entirely far from the ground.
I saw Gazzy's small form come to the edge of the cave, eagerly shuffling forward to help Iggy balance a few of the meals. With the wafting aroma of fresh bacon, it wasn't very long before Nudge and Angel appeared out of nowhere, flashing their best little-kid smiles. Angel even went so far as to give him one of her cute and gentle hugs, trying not to bounce him off his perch as Iggy's one foot dangling precariously from the dent he was balancing on. Iggy had his wings partly opened, though, and it helped him maintain his balance when Nudge practically attacked him, her mouth all but a blur as the Nudge Channel turned on. Iggy rolled his blind eyes and swiftly cupped his hand around Nudge's mouth, effectively stopping Nudge's flow of seemingly unending words. Angel and Gazzy laughed, and Nudge, after thanking Iggy graciously for her plateful of delicious-looking grub, scooted over to a corner and basically breathed in her ostensibly luscious meal, hopefully careful enough not to choke on any of the food. The way she was wolfing down those eggs, caution was probably the last thing on her mind right now.
Now that I look at it, Iggy is too important to lose, too. Too important to be without. For all the things that happened to him, he's still got our backs. He helped us survive, brought smiles to our faces, and he didn't allow any one of us to get hurt. Iggy's my best friend too, and he's Fang's brother. I can't even begin to imagine what he's going through now that Fang had suddenly flown away. And I can't even know, not with his expressionless eyes.
In some twisted sort of way, Iggy was a lot like Fang. Too alike even, that it was hard to think about it. Fang always had this impassive face on, and Iggy's eyes never brought out much emotion either. The two boys hide too much. Significant things I should know about. But they always just go on and hide it from me. It always gets me annoyed and makes me worry. It drives my paranoia to the brink when they try to keep things from me. Whether it was a huge gaping hole or some misplaced emotions, they don't even let me know. Not when they think I'm not supposed to.
Damn it, Fang, I cursed him in my head, you going away is making me think, and it's starting to drive me nuts!
"I said eat, Max."
And now I'm so out of control I'm the one being bossed around, darn it!
I blinked and turned to see Iggy plopping down on the ground beside me. I was about to warn him about the huge pointy rock he was gonna ram into, but he quickly dodged to the right, sitting down on a safer patch of land, just as if he saw what he was about to land his butt on. Because of this, I really didn't realize how quickly he closed the distance between us, and even though his face was no longer in right in front of mine, it was still a little too close for comfort. My face immediately felt like it was heating up, the blood piling back around my face—as if my head needed more boiling already!
"H-hey!" I exclaimed, placing a finger on his forehead and pushing him back. "Not letting you, remember?"
He laughed again, shoving something into my hands. "Just eat, okay? This one's extra special, even more than the kids' meals, but don't tell, alright?"
"Extra special?" I looked down at the plate of food he handed me—well, not a plate, just one of those really clean, really flat shiny slabs of rock we found sometime ago on the edge of a river—and found scrambled eggs, bacon strips cooked to perfection, a small mound of what looked like garlic rice to me, cooked just the way I liked it, and an energy bar sitting mouth-wateringly to the side. In Iggy's hands were one of our technically stolen canteens, filled to the brim with fresh water.
"Oh my god," I breathed, staring wide-eyed at the sumptuous meal I was holding. "Oh god, Ig, thank you!" I threw my free arm around his neck, almost on my tiptoes because of his freakish height. He laughed and briefly hugged me back, pulling away almost reluctantly to let me sit down and eat.
"Good to see you happier," Iggy said, his head turned towards me, with an odd expression on his face as I enthusiastically munched on my breakfast. "And apparently loving the meal."
I gulped down a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "Am I chewing that loud?" I asked, heaving a spoonful of rice into my waiting mouth.
"Er, yeah, sort of," he replied, chuckling. He glanced at me and rolled his eyes. Before I knew it, he prodded a finger at the corner of my lips, wiping away a stray grain of rice and popping it into his mouth.
I don't know how red my face went, or how high the temperature in my face was, but I definitely felt myself stop my eating spree to stare at Iggy, who stared back as if he could see me, giving me this big, adorably goofy smile.
I rolled my eyes and got back to eating, stopping just to briefly mumble, "Thanks."
Iggy ruffled my hair. "No prob."
The underlying truth to that didn't apply. 'Cause for as long as we're practically fugitives, as long as we're on the road, as long as we have these wings on our backs..
..there's always a problem.
…
…
\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/
-Max POV-
…
…
Maps suck.
Okay, wait, rephrase:
OUR map sucks.
If you'd call a soggy excuse for a piece of paper a map, I mean.
So maybe our backpacks weren't entirely waterproof. Or lightning-proof. Or any other proof that involves Mother Nature messing with the sky. There was still the fact that we have no navigational guides besides saliva-coated fingers—and dirt-coated tongues, if I may add. I'd spent about half an hour mulling over the grimy remains of what used to be a diagram of the United States.
Nudge and Angel were sitting in front of me, trying to piece up whatever was torn out. I didn't let them at first, of course, since they had just set up a net by the river. I didn't really know if paper bathed in water could get soggier than soggiest, but I didn't want to make matters worse. After drying up, though, I found it hard to refuse.
"Ooh, there's Oklahoma!" Nudge piped up. "It's such a weird name. Oklahoma. Haha. It's like the Oklahoma barbeque stuff the fat guy with the cowboy hat in WWE keeps talking about. I wonder if he's from Oklahoma. It seems like that. Or maybe their barbeque is his favorite or something. I bet it is. He's FAT. Let's try to go to Oklahoma. Can we, Max? I wanna try the Oklahoma barbeques. Like…a dozen. Or two dozens! Yeah! I wanna try TWO dozen Oklahoma barbeques! Can we, Max? Please? I like—"
By now, I've accumulated about two dozen bruises on my head due to recurring collisions with the nearest tree. I don't know how she just can't stop talking. Personally, if this girl goes to school, I'd say she'd win the spelling bee. I don't know how those words just get processed in her brain and then come straight out of her mouth so quick I'd have thought she was some sort of robot-android-cyber-person. I don't think I can process that much words in my head without getting a headache. Seriously.
"First off, Nudge," Angel interrupted. "I think they're Oklahoma steaks. Second, I think that's Ohio, not Oklahoma."
"Oh," Nudge said. "Really? Wow. Ohio, huh? Isn't that the place where those Beaver Bars were? Like..in the mid 1600s, right? I wonder what those tasted like. Oh, I hope there're some in an Ohio museum or something. I wanna try one! Yeah, yeah! I wanna try a Beaver Bar! And Oklahoma barbeques! Oh, I mean steaks! That would be so cool! Oh, but I wonder if it's like..expired or something. I mean, it's been, like, a gazillion years since the Beaver Bars. Are those even edible? They could be bricks for all I know. I still want Oklahoma steaks and barbeques though! I wi—"
"Nu-udge!" Angel complained. "It's Beaver Wars, not Beaver Bars! And you can't eat wars!"
"Ohh, now I get it!" Nudge said. "No wonde—Max, you're head is bleeding!"
Yeah, like I haven't noticed.
No, seriously. By now, the left side of my forehead had cracked open and was spewing an amazing amount of blood all over half my face. Nudge, I'm sure, when she grows up, can definitely become an assassin who talks her victims into committing suicide. I swear, it's possible. With Nudge and her facial muscles' strength, and the amount of saliva she impossibly has, she'd easily turn Total into a mass murderer.
Which he, apparently, is trying to avoid. Cowering in Angel's arms, whimpering like a sick puppy with a broken leg, Total was anything but okay at this point.
"Ohmygosh! What happened, Max? Did a snake bite you from up the tree? Did a monkey claw at you? Did the bark scratch your head? Were the leaves—"
"I am OKAY, Nudge," I interrupted, rubbing my temples and getting myself a gory-looking left hand. "Seriously, I'm fine. It's just a small cut. Facial wounds bleed more, remember?"
Nudge bowed her head. "Right, sorry." And then her head shot back up. "But why do you have so many bruises? I can see, like, bumps on your head. But it could be your hair and everything, but seriously, I can see bruises and bumps, Max! Why do y—"
By this time, I've resulted to clutching each side of my head in an attempt to block out the infinite amount of jabbering. But the rambling went on, muffled in a way that was deafening and painful, only better described as torture. When Nudge had suddenly stopped, though, I wondered if I'd finally gone deaf, but the voice that followed proved me wrong.
"You know what, Nudge? I think that fishing net of yours caught some more trout. Why don't you go check it out while I patch Max up for a bit? I'll need a lot of fish to cook up another special meal for you guys."
I opened my eyes guardedly, loosening my grip on my already aching head. There I saw Iggy, with his arm around my shoulders reassuringly, his other hand cupped over Nudge's mouth, wearing a smile I wasn't sure I understood.
"Okay!" Nudge said after peeling Iggy's hand off her mouth. She scrambled up and started jogging away, her mouth mercifully shut.
When she was out of range, I sighed. "God, Ig," I muttered. "I so owe you."
He chuckled. "No prob, Max. I know what it feels like." He pointed to his ear twice, grimacing.
"Oh, right, super-hearing," I said, almost sorry for him.
"Oh, I get used to it," he said, shrugging. "Don't feel sorry or anything. You suffered enough, Max."
I had to laugh at that, consciously fingering the small cut on my head. Facial wounds really do bleed the most, but it does help when you want to control a blush—though the blood loss is a bit of a hassle…
"Angel! Angel, c'mere!" Nudge suddenly bellowed from somewhere beside the riverbank, her voice as loud as if she'd been standing right beside me. "Come talk to the fish or something! They're jumping like crazy!"
"You better go," Iggy said, smirking at Angel. "I need those fish."
Angel giggled. "Yeah, I'll make sure they swim into the pot."
"You do that," Iggy laughed, slapping Angel a high-five with perfect aim as she hurried past him.
She was about to head off when paused mid-step. She turned around and said, "Oh, and Iggy?"
He looked up in her direction, almost as though he could see her. "Yeah?"
"Thanks."
Huh?
He smiled solemnly. "No prob."
Angel, smiled back and waved as she ran off. For some reason, that adorable little girl seemed more mature than she used to be. I gotta say, though, for a six-and-a-half-year-old, Angel has an understanding for countless things parents would kill to get their children to have. I mean, she's sweet, helpful, and can kick Eraser butt easy. She knows exactly what to do whenever someone is just really hard to figure out (note the mind-reading) but that little girl can seriously grow really dangerous (the mind-controlling this time) and yet, on top of all that, she's still got her heart of gold (adorability and utmost cuteness). She's my baby, and I don't know what I'll do if I lost her.
And, now that I think of it, I don't know what I'll do if I'd lose any of the Flock. They're the ones who make me happy, keep me company, drive me to live life to whatever fullest our mutant capacity could possibly take. They were the ones keeping me up and running, and I owe them too much to even begin counting.
"Er, I'll uh, leave you two alone, then," Total declared, trotting off toward where Angel had disappeared into the trees.
"Huh?" I asked, confused.
"Err, so you banged your head on something?" Iggy asked, not answering my question.
Oh, right. I forgot about half my face being soaked in blood and covered with more bruises than skin—a bit of an exaggeration on the bruises, maybe. I probably didn't look any better than the tree I was ramming my head into. "Tree. Broke the bark, I think."
Iggy rolled his eyes, skimming through the spot on the tree where my head had carved out chunks of bark and left it raw. His gentle fingers found the dent in between. He pulled his hand away, wincing as a few smears of blood rubbed against his fingertips.
"You are so hard-headed, Max," he said, raising an eyebrow at me and chuckling.
I scowled in his direction, and, upon remembering his being blind, said, "I'm—"
"Scowling?" Iggy asked, a crooked smile on his face.
"Yeah, you're a genius," I said, smirking. "How did you guess?'
Oh, but inside, I keep wondering if he'd actually seen it. If somehow, his sight was returning. Even just a little bit. I mean, back in Antarctica, he had seen the snow, the white of the landscape. And just recently, he's been actually "seeing" huge landscapes that were composed of mainly one color. Like the sky, for example. He had a bit of trouble with the clouds, 'cause they were generally a different color, but after a ton of practice—with a great amount of staring—Iggy's seen the blueness of the sky. Though a tad blurry because of the clouds, Iggy's been seeing like a person with a 3000 high eyeglass prescription. Okay, yeah, high number, I know. But I was so happy for Iggy, and I remember Fang being happy for him as well, cracking a grin that seriously lit the whole place up. We were really glad that Iggy had his vision partially restored. We were glad that for once, he didn't feel as handicapped as he used to think. We were glad that we'd been together when that had happened. That we had experienced something important, and as a family.
But we're not really complete now, are we?
"What were you doing, anyway?" Iggy suddenly asked.
"Uh, well, the map got wet," I answered. "Nudge and Angel offered to help, but Nudge ended up rambling about every state she sees. I think she's still got Montana stuck on her arm, though.."
Iggy sniggered a bit and started to dig into his bag.
Out of the blue, I felt myself asking, "Iggy?"
He flopped down beside me, carrying a first aid kit. He started dabbing on something soft and cool on my head, his other hand digging around inside the kit for the anesthetic. "Yep?"
"If you'd pick only one of the five senses, which would you pick?"
He paused briefly, the cool cotton resting on my head for a second. Somewhere in me, I just know he'd pick sight—spending most of his life without it. He always talks about how he'd kill just to be able to see. I'm almost sure.
Almost.
"Touch."
I did a double take. "Huh?"
"Touch," Iggy repeated, dabbing on some anesthetic this time. I winced when the wound stung a bit, but I'd been through worse pain. "Feeling. To be able to feel stuff."
"Uhm, why?"
He shrugged, returning the anesthetic and the bag of cotton back in the kit. "It's the only sense that makes you sure you're alive. Makes you feel alive. I mean, I'd kill to be able to see, but if I don't feel anything at all," his finger brushed over the cut on my forehead, "I'd consider myself dreaming."
He applied a small, checkered bandage on the cut, smiling warmly at me. "There's an underlying meaning to that," he said. "I'm just not smart enough to give a better explanation."
He returned the first aid kit back to his pack, zipping it closed. He sat beside me again, closing his eyes and leaning his head on the tree, sighing. His face was probably four or five inches from mine. I closed my eyes, leaning back as well, carefully laying my bandaged head on his shoulder. Next to me, I could hear Iggy's steady breathing; I could hear his heartbeat, as loudly as if it were my own.
I could feel him.
Unexpectedly, Iggy's hand reached out to me, weaving his fingers around each of mine. He peeked at me from below his eyelids, smiling.
In one rush of adrenaline, and the energy that flew through me followed by the warmth from his touch, for once, since…since Fang left…
…I felt alive.
…
…
\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/
-Max POV-
…
…
"How to find Fang...how to find Fang…how to find Fang..."
"Reciting a mantra won't help, Max."
"So is relying on bits of waterlogged paper, Ig."
Okay, so deciding that dirty mold with names of states smudged all over was not going to help navigate through possibilities and routes, finding Fang suddenly went from really exciting and adrenaline-rushed to clueless and zip with potential.
"Yeah, yeah," Iggy rolled his eyes. "Better than nothing, maybe."
"How to find Fang...how to find Fang…how to find Fang..."
"Oy," Iggy groaned, slapping a palm over his forehead. "Okay, okay. First, tell me everything that happened."
That's not gonna be easy.
"Uh, ask a question," I prompted.
"Huh? Uh, well…" Iggy looked thoughtful, poking at his jaw. "Why did you fall out of the sky? Did you faint or something?"
It felt like I was punched in the face. Recalling that time was like getting beaten up. It was too hard to keep remembering, and even harder to force yourself to believe it was true. Even worse was telling yourself a different story, making all possibilities come to fruition, just to give a better explanation to yourself. It didn't feel right, but the truth never really felt all that great either.
But if it's to find Fang and wring his neck for an explanation, I might as well suck it up.
"It was 'cause Fang—h-he—I-I—I had to stop him. He suddenly—"
I froze, the words getting stuck in my throat before I could completely get them out.
Kissed me was what I was about to say, but I don't think I'd tell that to Iggy just yet. It was a little hard to comprehend, the…kiss, and it got my mind reeling into practical combustion just thinking about it. I mean, kiss and goodbye? He was clearly forced into leaving. I guess the kiss was the goodbye he wanted. I just knew, in me, that Fang wouldn't do that if he really wanted to leave. Fang wouldn't leave period, actually. I just—I just know it. Doing that—kissing me—would mean that he didn't want me to get hurt because of his departure. He didn't want me to come after him. He did it for something important. Something that would help.
At least, that's what I thought it was.
"He suddenly…?" Iggy asked.
"—suddenly hugged me," I finished lamely, flushing a deep red. He did, right? Just not at the time, not in the way Iggy might understand, but he still did. "Th-then he pulled away. It took…a while for me to straighten up, but when I did, there were seven Flyboys surrounding me," I staggered helplessly through the words. "And clone-me. You know, the Max clone from before? She was there too. I saw Fang overhead, up a few boulders and hills with his wings stretched out. He suddenly took off without a running start, so I did a hit-and-fly. I got to him right on time, arguing and yanking at his arm as hard as I could. I didn't want him to just slip free, b-but he suddenly—suddenly had some massive strength—stronger than I've ever seen him." I ducked my head, trying to stop the quiver in my voice. "H-he—he hugged me again, but that time he aimed for a silent knock out." I absently touched the spot where his ethereal touch still tingled, where I felt his gentle fingers attack my nerves, where his breathing had stroked my skin, brought me calm, and brought me into unconsciousness, knowing Iggy was right below me. He always had a soft touch, and his logical, more dominant side always found out the best of chances, choices and possibilities he could take, where nothing could turn bad.
Oh, but he screwed up the last time. Yeah, that was most definitely not one of his top ten best choices.
"He got me at the back of my neck," I finished.
There was a short pause before Iggy spoke, "Oh."
Before I thought he'd ask me to elaborate more on the details and torture me with questions too hard to answer or even talk about, Iggy suddenly asked, a new sense of urgency in his voice, "Which direction did you see…him fly away?"
I blinked, caught off guard. I let out a relieved sigh; at least he hadn't asked the question I thought he would. I stole a glance at Iggy, who had more than just a determined face on. His eyes were set, fueled by adrenaline, and he looked as though finding Fang became an even higher priority than it already was. For once, Iggy didn't look like he cared at all about the reason, the explanation, and the part where he beats up Fang for what he did. All he started to care about was bringing him back, finding him, and returning our family to normal—whatever "normal" really is for us.
"West," I answered almost instantly. "No. North. Northwest."
"Are you sure?" Iggy questioned.
"Yes," I confirmed. I was pretty dazed then, but I was just barely alert enough to take note of where Fang was disappearing off to.
There was a long pause as Iggy weighed our options. I pondered over the answers I gave him, really thankful that he had been here to be the sounding board. We always had the best ideas when we bounced them back and forth. It got the juices in our heads running, that's for sure.
I took a quick glimpse at what used to be our map, digging deep into my memory bank.
"Everyone's an enemy."
"What's happening? Why do you have all your stuff with you?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
Angel asked us if she could look for Gazzy. I was still trapped in the past, my eyes wide open in a daze; I heard Iggy answer for me, as if from somewhere far away.
"Why, Fang?"
"I can't tell you."
Nudge announced something about her following Angel. I nodded numbly, and let Iggy voice out my response. I didn't mind; he knew what I would say anyway. He knew me well enough.
"You really want to fight me?"
"Max?" I heard Iggy ask.
"Bye, Max."
"Yo, Max, you still breathing?"
"There are Flyboys around the forest," I declared. There was a ring of authority in my voice, as if the old me was still somewhere deep under the crazy.
"What? How do you know?" Iggy questioned. I don't know how I knew; I didn't even know that I knew. All I knew was that I knew this with some amount of certainty.
"I…I don't know, Ig," I stammered, clutching my bloody head. "I don't know how I know."
"But you're certain they're there?"
"Yeah. Lots of them. Hundreds, maybe; I don't know."
"How could you have known? I haven't even sensed them."
"They're waiting at the forest borders. Waiting for us. We're trapped."
There wasn't any trace of fear in my voice. Apparently, this wasn't a very big deal. My heartbeat was normal, and there wasn't the usual rush of adrenaline shooting through my veins. I didn't have that urge to kick butt. What was wrong with me?
"We're not trapped," Iggy said fiercely. If he hadn't been blind, there would have been fire burning in his eyes. "We'll find a way."
Urgently, he grabbed me by the hand and pulled me up, just as Total came trotting out of a nearby bush. Though trotted didn't seem like the right word. Scampered was probably more appropriate. As soon as he caught sight of us, he hurried over, his wheezy dog breaths coming out as raspy gasps.
"What is it?" I heard Iggy ask.
"Angel… big and furry…riverbank," Total whimpered, laying his furry head on the ground. He didn't have enough energy to form coherent sentences; that means something was up. Something horrible.
Just as I threw Iggy a stricken look, a familiar shriek pierced through the air. A shriek both of us knew very well. Without thinking, I spread my wings, ready to fly. The rush of adrenaline was back, stronger than ever, and my blood battered through my ears, in time with the beat of my heart.
"Angel," Total gasped with a final breath, before dropping to the ground with a muffled thump.
Together, Iggy and I threw ourselves into the air.
"Flyboys," I muttered darkly under my breath. They weren't getting her. Not if I had anything to say about it. They'd already gotten Fang, and I'll be damned if I let them get anyone else.
Not Angel. Not again.
"Trust me, Max. Just trust me."
I blinked away the tears that threatened to come, the sudden pain that burst through my empty chest stinging around the edges as I heaved in heavy breaths.
"It's better this way."
"Max, you okay? We have to go get Angel—"
"Goodbye, Max."
"Not again," I growled, just one more time, before I sped off towards where the Flock was being attacked, leaving a confused Iggy behind. As the wind whipped hair into my face, I wiped the back of my hand across my eyes, to get rid of any evidence. This wasn't going to happen again.
Not again.
\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/
-Author's Note-
Sorry to have ended it there, I'm just a little busy. anyways, hope you like it! R&R! Thanks for reading!