Hello everybody! Sorry I haven't updated in so long. My computer got messed up and had to be taken to get repaired the week before last and then last week I was working at the horseback riding youth camp! It was probably a good idea for me to take some time off, though because I came up with some really good stuff for my plot! I have two more camps coming up this month and then I should be back on schedule! Thank you, theDanman2241, ill3, and MissMintCoffeeMocha for reviewing the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one just as much!

XOXO,

Girlreadsalot

We couldn't stick to the interstates and the highways forever. They were dangerous and we ended up having to take more and more detours to avoid the Croats. They were getting hungry therefore they were getting bold.

We had all talked it over one night in the dim light of a seedy roach-infested motel as a group, blinds shut firmly and bedspreads covering the window to ensure that no light escaped the room to give us away. Just because the Croats were losing their sanity didn't mean that they were stupid. They'd head right for us if they noticed the light was on.

Anyways, we'd determined that the safest place for us was in the middle of nowhere with the nearest town nowhere within a convenient distance.

We found ourselves in northwest Oregon. The forest was thick and green, a heavy mist hanging above them like clouds coming down to earth. It was nearly impossible to see my mom's car through the thick canopies of the trees. We found ourselves below the canopies dodging large branches and massive tree trunks.

"Ugh!" I said disgustedly as my waterproof windbreaker clung to my skin. I peeled the wet article of clothing away from my body with a look of disdain. "Apparently these conditions are too wet for waterproof things to actually be functional."

"I think it's cool," Nudge said as she pushed a wet pine branch out of her way. "We could be in a fairytale or explorers or something."

"Or just really soggy bird-kids," I muttered.

The Gasman did a backwards somersault off a thick branch and unfurled his wings before he hit the foliage littered forest floor and flapped back up to where we were slowly making progress through the woods. "I feel like Indiana Jones, only cooler."

I raised a brow at him, "Why's that?"

"I've got wings."

I smiled at the way his little chest puffed up in pride. I had to agree, we were way cooler than Indiana Jones or any other flightless superhero. Hell, in a way we were even our own superheroes.

We spent the next thirty minutes or so slowly making our way through the trees. It proved to be a difficult task, especially for us older kids. My wingspan was nearly fifteen feet wide and the boys' were even larger than that. There wasn't exactly an ample amount of room for us to fly in the forest, but we were making due.

Occasionally, I'd hear one of the boys (Fang particularly) cursing under their breath when their wings whapped against the rough bark of the trees.

"Do you hear that?" Iggy asked, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he listened to something I couldn't hear.

I tried again and frowned. Besides the chirping of birds, the patter of light rain, and the sounds of various critters scurrying through the underbrush I hadn't heard anything. "No, I don't hear anything at all."

"That's the point. Your mom's car has a knocking sound in the engine that's particularly obnoxious. I don't hear it anymore. The car's not even running anymore."

Panic lurched in my throat, the image of the woman being torn to shreds by Croats while she held her son was in the forefront of my mind as I shot like a rocket towards the place we'd seen my mom's car last.

I whipped through the trees, twisting to avoid clipping my wings. I dipped under branches and picked up my feet to avoid breaking my legs on others. I pushed myself towards a break in the trees.

Anger pulsed through my veins along with adrenaline. If my mom and sister were in trouble somebody was going to pay. My teeth were starting to ache from the amount of force I was using to clamp them together.

I shot into the clearing and a sense of relief overcame me when I saw my mom's car parked at the edge of it, covered in mud. Ella, Sydney, and she were all standing around it. My mom had her hands cupped around her mouth like she was yelling something at me.

I turned my head and just in time to see a stone chimney in my path. I stilled my flapping, flaring my wings wide to catch the wind and prevent me from crashing into it. I managed to avoid it narrowly with some nasty bruises on my arms and some road rash on my hip.

"Not a word," I seethed to my snickering flock as I stomped past them. I shot Fang a particularly harsh glare because I know he'd never let me live this down for as long as I lived.

"What do you think of this place?" My mom asked me. She eyed the blooming bruise on my arm but didn't comment on it any further.

I turned and actually got a good look at the log cabin I'd nearly crashed into.

It needed some work. One window in particular was shattered, there was moss growing on the roof, some of the logs needed resealed so the weather didn't get inside. It was smaller than mom's house, which meant that things were going to be especially cramped, but it wasn't any worse than a cave in the desert. The location was ideal. It was miles into the middle of nowhere, shielded by large trees and thick foliage. The only access the non-winged had was a narrow, rutty, barely passable road that my mom's SUV had been hardly able to make it through.

"It's perfect," I grinned.

The inside was in better condition than I'd pictured.

Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust (which had sent Total into a fit of begrudgingly adorable sneezes), some things needed fixed up, the cobwebs needed knocked down and the two bedrooms were small.

"Where are we gonna sleep, Max?" Nudge asked me wide-eyed.

"We've slept in worse conditions," I pointed out. "We can divide up the bedrooms and the rest of us can sleep on the living room floor." I pointed to the musty moth-eaten furniture in the living room and the blankets folded there.

"I can build a loft," Dylan offered. He pointed to an area above the living room near the chimney where the ceiling reached its highest point. "We could put a couple beds up there. It'd give some other people a place to sleep."

"How are you going to do that?"

"There's lumber in the shed out back. It won't take me long. I did build the treehouse, remember?"

I remembered alright. Then the entire damn thing had caught on fire.

I clapped my hands together, "Alright! We've got lots of cleaning and unpacking to do. Get moving, enough standing around!"

The air was humid and sticky, making his clothes stick to his skin and a sheen of sweat to appear on the back of his neck. His brown hair was getting too shaggy and long for his tastes and it was starting to curl at the nape of his neck. His sister had offered to cut it for him but he hadn't dared to let her anywhere near him with a sharp object. She was deadly with something even as sharp as a ballpoint pen.

He clenched his hands into fists, the dirty and jagged nails forming red crescents into the palms of his hands.

He didn't know who had left him the note telling him to meet whomever it was in the middle of the freakin' night in the middle of nowhere.

He hadn't told his sister where he was going. She would have wanted to tag along and whoever this was, he didn't want her to lose her temper around them.

A small barely-there sound caught his attention and he tensed waiting. After a few minutes he heard it again, the uneven stepping of somebody with a limp. They were possibly using a cane for support. Whoever it was, they were trying to be discreet about it.

"You outta come out," he drawled loud enough for the unknown person to hear him. "You can't sneak up on me. Y'should know that by now."

A weary and grizzled looked man stepped into his vision leaning heavily on a cane. He clearly had some money at some point but now he looked like he'd been drug to hell and back.

"Who're you?"

The older man offered a smile that was supposed to look a little tired and sad but it looked a little too slimy. He held out his hand. "My name is Dr. Hans Gunther-Hagen and I have a job for you." His accent was Swedish or German or something, one that was unfamiliar to the brown-haired young man.

"What kinda job's that?" He asked, narrowing his green eyes at the extended hand. He rolled the toothpick between his front teeth as he studied the disheveled doctor.

"You know of the avian-hybrids, correct?"

Of course he did. They were all those freakin' scientists had talked about while they'd been giving him his powers.

He nodded, "What of 'em?"

"We need to find them."

"Well I s'pose you came to the right place for that," he said. "I can find anything that moves."

"I know," the doctor said knowingly. "Do we have a deal?"

He eyed the doctor carefully. This didn't seem like the whole story. "What happens to 'em once I find 'em?"

"There's one named Fang."

The name rang a bell, he could still hear the scientists talking about the avian-hybrid in hushed tones like the murmuring of a stream.

"When you find him he needs to be exterminated. In exchange we'll offer an immunity to the virus for somebody you hold rather dearly."

Without hesitation he shook the doctor's hand. "You've got yourself a deal."