A/N- I bought the thing that Nudge buys in this chapter (well, Fang mentions her buying it in the past). It's probably the best twenty dollars and thirty-three cents I've ever spent.
Reviewer of the Week:
The Village Idiot's Pet: If I could be a Pokémon, I would be Pikachu. So whenever I sneeze, I say 'pika' first.
Comment of the Week:
Adam Young: Skittles who go to college are Smarties.
(To the person who asked – David was in chapter 35. He had Tim Hortons in one hand. Mmm, Timbits.)
May 15th, 2010
Days until I die: Okay, I'm going to stop doing this, 'cause it's just getting depressing. Now I need to write something happy like, "My Hogwarts letter finally arrived in the mail, since it got lost at the post office for the last four years". But that didn't happen. Damn it, now I'm even more depressed.
Dear Diary,
For the past few dreams I've had about Max, she's usually a) naked b) becoming naked or c) engaging me in a Doritos-eating contest. I can't help what I dream about; I'm a fifteen-year-old guy with more hormones than a few small European countries combined.
But if I could actually control my dreams, I'd place Max and me on a beach. And we wouldn't be sipping margaritas in Tahiti like I've envisioned so many times before. We wouldn't even be giving each other massages with ridiculously expensive oil that was probably created by stripping the Amazon Forest. We would just talk.
How great would that be? We'd start in the morning and sit on the beach and watch the sun go up. We'd count the clouds and laugh at the seagulls. At lunch we'd had a picnic, and at night, a bonfire. We'd finally be happy until the sun came up, and we'd do it all again.
But we don't have time for that now, which is why it's going to have to stay in my dreams. Because what's the point of living if you're always afraid of dying?
I had a good day, which I'll get to later, Diary. I finally had time to write down everything (which would explain the jumpy timeline; most of the time, I don't get to write a day's events until later).
It's a little after midnight right now, but Iggy has his iPod in, and he's singing some sort of pop song that seems to consist only of the phrase, "Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots!" etc, since he is currently singing it very loudly and I'm pretty sure he's tone deaf. Gazzy resorted to stuffy his ears with Kleenex a while ago.
It's a definite consensus that today was a good day – sort of like the consensus that anyone wearing an, "I'm in Miami, bitch" T-shirt should be shot on sight.
So I guess I'll rewind and tell you about the past week. To give you the lowdown on what happened the last time I wrote, we learned that:
a) David is Max's father
b) David knows Nathan, the guy at Itex, and needed to bring us to him
c) Lady Gaga and the pizza man are my parents…so they'd be Pepperazai! Get it? Like Paparazzi, the song? And pepperoni, like the pizza? Hahaha- …I am such a freaking loser.
Sure, all of us were sketched out by David taking us to Itex, since the chances that we'd come out of there without a fight was just as likely as Dallas Braden pitching a perfect game. (WHO SAW THAT COMING? Only Yankees are allowed to be that awesome.)
So let's jump into this road trip. But a road trip where the destination might be death. (Destination: Death. Isn't that the best movie title ever?)
We left the house quickly after everyone did their seatbelts, since flying through the windshield is never fun. (Trust me, 2007 wasn't a good year.) After that, we were off like a herd of turtles. The drive should've taken a few hours, but Iggy had an incident at Burger King (he has yet to come to the realization that he can't order a Big Mac there) that ended up detaining us for a while.
(I have also once again come to the conclusion that I am OD'ing on parenthesis, so I apologize for that.) (Not really, they're fun.) (But I'm a man, I can't have "fun". I "chuckle at others' pain".)
But once we finally got onto the main highway, time started to fly by, and I wrote that last entry. Afterwards, I'll admit that I dozed off, even if the manly thing to do would be to pull an all-nighter and then re-build a car the next day.
"How much longer?" I mumbled, staring out at the bland landscape. My head had somehow landed on Angel's shoulder, since she was leaned up against me. We were definitely the image of a Hallmark card.
"Not long," David said. It was easy to tell he was tired. "Probably about ten minu- holy shit, that is just awesome."
"Hmm?" I mumbled, still half-awake. David didn't strike me as the guy to swear, so I looked out the front window to see what had attracted his attention. It was impossible to miss. "Hot damn."
Our conversation had started to wake everyone else up, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the sight in front of me. It was like a mirage; right smack-dab in front of us was the most incredible building ever. Period. Full stop. No questions asked.
Picture a desert. (Not a dessert, a desert.) Now picture the most high-tech building you could possibly think of and place it in the desert. It looked as if the whole place was made of glass, and the shimmering effect was almost blinding. It was massive, too – at least the size of a shopping mall.
"Morgan Freeman was the architect," Gazzy said in awe. "Actually, his voice was probably the architect."
"This is Itex?" Nudge said in awe. "I thought they were in debt. And how could they build this so quickly? We were here pretty recently…"
"It's always been here, remember? But they hid it from us," Max said. "We saw it briefly a few months ago."
And you know what that means, Diary…TRIPPY FLASHBACK SEQUENCE.
I blinked; and in that millisecond, the run-down room transformed into some James Bond headquarters. The room was suddenly the size of a warehouse, with large machines on every wall; a large glass ceiling was above; there was a large winding staircase in the middle of the room that obviously led up to the floors above that looked over this central area. We were standing at the very edge of the room, but it felt like we were in the middle of chaos. Hundreds of whitecoats were moving around, talking amiably and working at the machines. Nathan clicked a button on his remote –
And it all disappeared.
"So why is Itex allowing us to see it, then?" Angel asked. "Are they trying to prove something?"
"I guess we're just going to have to ask them," David said grimly, turning onto the recently-paved road that led right up to the building. The driveway itself was at least a mile long, and it led right up to the building. There was no place to park.
Creepy-tastic.
It was as if it was a huge hospital, but there wasn't a single sound coming from the building. David pulled off the driveway and onto the dirt to park. We all filed out of the car and walked up to what looked as if it was the main entrance; four sets of glass double-doors stood in front of us. My one thought was: Shiny.
"Now would be a good time to explain," Max said softly. "Dad."
David blushed. "Let's go inside."
The double-doors were automatic and whooshed as we walked through them. Inside, my jaw dropped. From outside, it had looked like a ghost town. (Well, a ghost building, but you get the idea.)
Inside was a bustling hive of activity. Men and women from every race were running around in – wait for it – white coats. There was desk with a receptionist right in front of us, but behind her was an atrium that was so huge it actually hurt to look at. There were at least ten levels that looked down at the huge foyer. If this place hadn't been built, I was positive that we could've used the money to buy New Jersey.
The receptionist was staring right at us and didn't even pretend to be talking on the phone or doing paperwork. "Welcome to Itex. How may I help you?"
David leaned on the shiny white desk. Then again, almost everything was shiny and white. I would almost think that it was Heaven, except there was a serious lack of greasy foods.
"We need to speak to Nathan. Now. Tell him Maximum Ride is here." The receptionist blanched and picked up the phone, even though David didn't give a last name. Apparently Nathan was just as unique as Madonna or Usher. She dialled a number.
"Nathan, we've got A102 here," she said. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at whatever codename that was. "Yeah, they're here. There's seven of them. Yeah, seven. One adult guy. His name?" The receptionist covered the mouthpiece with her hand. "What's your name?"
"David."
"His name's David. Mmhmm. Okay." She hung up. "He'll be here in a minute. Please have a seat." She gestured to a few (white, naturally) chairs near the doors.
"Can you at least tell us what's going on?" Max asked, leaning against the wall. She was eying the multitude of people rushing past. "This trust thing is working out so well."
"We're going to make a deal with the devil," David said, running a hand through his hair. "God, this place needs a Timmies. A double-double with extra milk would be fan-freaking-tastic."
We waited for another five minutes (Nudge amused herself by poking Angel) before Nathan suddenly came up to us. He looked just as I remembered him; he was African American, well over six feet, and looked as if he could crush me at a whim.
"It really is you," he said to David. Davis stood, and the pair shook hands before doing the slapping-each-other-on-the-back thing that all males know how to do. "Let's go somewhere private."
Just like that, he walked off, and he obviously expected us to follow like obedient dogs. Max flipped him off (er, flipped off his back) but still followed after him, since we didn't really have a choice.
We followed Nathan up a flight of stairs, whereupon we walked down a hallway with rooms on one side and open air that looked down on the atrium on the other. We walked into one of the first rooms; Nathan didn't bother to hold the door open. He's such a Prince Charming.
"So why are you here, Dave?" Nathan asked once we were seated at a long table that dominated most of the plain room. Itex couldn't have tried harder to put me to sleep. "And with the Flock? I wasn't aware you were… acquainted."
David was about to respond, but Iggy cut him off by sniffing the air.
Yeah, you heard that correctly, Diary – sniffing. I knew instantly that this was going to be an "Iggy Incident" that I would erase from my memory later.
"Do you smell… up dog?" Iggy asked. He sniffed louder and under his arms in a dramatic production. I rolled my eyes and locked my hands together so I wouldn't strangle him. Is it sad that I was tempted?
"What's up dog?" Nathan asked, just as confused as everyone else.
"Not much; what's up with you, dog?"
I don't ge - HAHAHA. Well done, good sir, well done.
The look on Nathan's face screamed Shoot me now. I would be glad to acquiesce to his request (yes, I learned that from Pirates of the Caribbean) but I had a feeling that killing Nathan wouldn't be very productive.
David chuckled at Iggy – who was looking mighty proud of himself – and swivelled in his chair. "Nathan, look. I know you can save Fang, because you told me that it's easy enough. You told me that you're withholding his life so that the Flock will find who was taking your funds –aka Dr. M. Can't you get rid of the expiration date? Now? And then we can go out and grab some ice cream." That last part was sarcastic.
Nathan folded his hands neatly on the table. "I'll be honest. Fang was an experiment. I don't give a damn about him, I just need my money." Hmm. I was being referred to in the past tense, which was something that hadn't slipped by Max. "People get things done under pressure."
"Fang won't be able to do anything if he's dead."
Nathan raised an eyebrow, but that was the only sign that he'd been surprised at David's words. "The rest of the Flock will help us. And don't tell me that since I killed their friend then they won't help me; they all have expiration dates, too. We've just suppressed them, for now; we can't kill them all off at once, can we?"
"What do you mean, we have expiration dates?" Max asked calmly. "I've checked at least once a week and there's been nothing."
"Exactly; Max, I hate to break this to you, but your expiration date is actually set for early August, but like I said, its "suppressed" right now. You see, expiration dates occur due to the breakdown of your DNA. But since we can control your DNA…" Nathan flung out a hand.
"Then you control if we live." Max didn't appear phased by the information that she was supposed to die in August, but me, on the other hand, WAS READY TO RIP OUT NATHAN'S THROAT AND FEED IT TO THE WOLVES. "You're playing God. But I don't get why Fang's expiration date came first."
Nathan smiled. "Just ask him. But moving on… David, you're asking me to let Fang live? Why?"
"Everyone has secrets, Nathan. Most people aren't stupid like you and tell people, though." Davis crossed his arms over his chest. "Let go of the expiration date. We'll make a deal. If Fang and the Flock hand Dr. M over to you, then the expiration date stays off. If they don't do it by June first, then…"
"I don't understand what I have to gain from this."
David laughed. "Nathan, if you don't, I have documents you've sent me that have some very, very incriminating things on them. Your best friend was always there for a quick laugh, right? So you'd send over pictures of your latest experiments. I don't think you want those pictures to land in the wrong hands."
David was blackmailing Nathan.
DAVID'S GOT SOME SERIOUS BALLS.
"I could snap my fingers and you'd be dead in ten seconds," Nathan said, gesturing to a video camera in the corner of the ceiling.
David gestured to Max, whose hands were locked onto the table in a furious rage. "She only needs three."
Diary, was that not the most badass response ever?
See, from what I'd gathered from this conversation, Nathan was going to let me go home without an expiration date at the same time people stop using "win" and "fail" as complete sentences (aka: never).
"So this is what I want," David said. "You will get rid of Fang's expiration date – but only until June first. Then, if you don't have your hands on Dr. M, then you can bring the expiration date back."
"But what's the point of getting rid of it, if you're going to bring it back?" Nathan asked. I think everyone at the table was thinking that – even Iggy, whose attention span usually rivalled one of a goldfish.
"It's the psychology behind it," David said. He was definitely withholding information, but no one knew what it was. "If Fang's only concerned about his life, how can he concentrate on anything else?"
David's logic was flawed, but I didn't point that out. Nathan smirked. "I always thought you were a pushover, David. I always thought that you were small and afraid and worthless. But it looks like you can play in the big leagues. But I'll make sure that Fang's expiration date disappears – but only until June first. After that, if we don't have Dr. M, then the rest of the Flock will be picked off one by one. And I trust you'll delete or burn anything… incriminating?"
"Trust is something that's given and broken easily, Nathan." David slid out of his chair. "Goodbye. We had fun in college, but I never want to see you again. Please don't take that too personally. Some people are born as assholes. They just can't help it." Hot damn, that was a nice shot.
"Bye, David," Nathan said as he left the room. I was the last one to leave, so I heard him say under his breath, "see you soon." Mmm, ominous. All we need now is some wind and lightening.
It didn't take long to get back to the car; almost surprisingly, the car was still right in front of the building. I would've thought they would've taken it and we'd have to hitchhike back to Arizona. (Hitchhiking may sound cool, but it's actually pretty annoying. Once there was this guy with a machete and a mountain lion and things went downhill quickly.)
"What was that all about?" Max asked once we had turned onto the main highway. Now that we were away from Itex, we felt safer talking about them. Paranoid? Yes. Practical? No. "I don't understand."
"I made a plan. I don't know how good it is, or even if it's good at all, but it's something." David honked the horn as someone tried to cut him off. "You've learned that Itex's power to mess with your DNA depends on how close you are to them, right? And the further you are from them, the weaker their power is?"
"Yeah," Angel said. "I see where you're going with this. I read Nathan's mind; he's going to do what he said, for now. He might change his mind later."
"For those of us who don't read minds, can you continue?" Nudge asked.
"The plan is to find Dr. M before May thirtieth. But if we don't, then we're going to get Fang on a flight to Europe on the thirty-first, so that come June first, when Nathan activates Fang's expiration date, it won't have any affect because Fang will be too far away."
I tried to take that all in. Having boatloads of information thrown at me isn't unusual, but it made my head spin a bit. Why people still chose to wear Crocs (so two years ago) was just as confusing.
"But does that mean Fang won't be able to come back to the States once he's in Europe?" Gazzy asked. "Will we have to move there? Will we have to learn to speak French? I hate French."
Well, Gazzy hated anything French because he once ate French toast that made him puke his guts out for three days. He also punched the TV when the Habs knocked the Penguins out of the NHL playoffs the other day.
"No. Because when you guys are in Europe – I'm assuming you'll go with him – then it's my job to make sure that Nathan's dead and so is his technology. But remember, that's Plan B. Plan A is to find Dr. M and hand her over to Itex."
"Will Nathan actually take away my expiration date?" I asked, hopefully without too much emotion in my voice. Would I get a second chance? Would I get to live again? I considered myself dead already.
Gazzy didn't answer me; he just grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled it down. "It's gone!" he said, staring at the back of my neck. "It's not there!"
I can't describe the relief.
Sure, chances are I'm going to die in the next month. But for the first time in almost a year, I didn't have a mentally burning sensation on the back of my neck.
I was free.
"Don't get too excited," David said, glancing at me through the rear-view mirror. "Whatever you do, don't get cocky. Nathan's nothing but a liar and he's freaky smart. I might be wrong. Europe might be too close – I know it sounds bad, but chances are, you're still going to die on June first, Fang."
"How can you say that?" Max asked, incredulous. "He just got a lease on life. It'll work." I could hear the unsaid, It has to work. "We'll find Dr. M and we won't even have to leave the States. And then we'll live long and happy lives." I could hear her desperation.
"Where would Dr. M be, though?" Angel asked. "We don't have long."
"I have no idea," David said. With one hand on the steering wheel, he pulled out a cell phone and flipped it open. "I'll call Jeb to see if he knows anything."
I decided not to point out that it was five in the morning. But Jeb was a tank (figure of expression, Diary) and he probably stayed awake for weeks at a time chugging egg yolks. David dialled, and a few seconds later, Jeb answered.
I won't bother writing down their conversation, Diary, because it was boring and nothing interesting happened and my hand is killing me from all this writing. I feel that I should have developed carpal tunnel by now.
It was Max's thought that was worth writing down.
"Wait a second," she said, once David had hung up. "The cell phone…" The sentence drifted off as she sorted through her thoughts. "Can't you trace cell phones? Couldn't we trace Dr. M's cell? I remember her being a Crackberry addict."
"I already tried," David admitted. "She must've ditched it. It was a good idea, though," he said at Max's downcast expression.
The rest of the trip was a blur, since I fell asleep once again and ended up with my face pressed against the cold glass of the car window. Very attractive.
I woke up right as we pulled into the driveway. Inside, Jeb, Mom and Ella were awake and at the table ready for us, since it was well into the morning. "We'd love to talk," David said, "But sleep first." He'd pulled an all-nighter, and I heard him crash into the room Jeb and Mom were sleeping in. (Speaking of that room, I still haven't figured that out…)
So we did what we did best: we slept. Exciting, I know. It was definitely as exciting the day Nudge came home after stealing the Jacob Black action figure ("IT'S NOT A DOLL") from Target.
And to be quite honest, that's what we did for the days following that. Yeah, we went crazy trying to find Dr. M – we went to every place where she had personal and business connections – but there was nothing. But sleep was a huge priority.
And now it's today, the fifteenth of May. It's weird to think my birthday is only a few days away. It's even weirder to think that I might die by then, and not from my expiration date. Because even if everyone else hasn't understood it yet, I know that Dr. M is going to come to us, not the other way around.
I don't understand why, but she wants me dead. And I'll be nice and try to return the favor.
That's why I'm going to try and have fun – just one more time. One more smile and one more laugh; I regret not doing those things more often. It's just that, when I was younger, I was so tired of being hurt, I built walls to prevent myself from feeling anything. I should have spent this year doing things like seeing the pyramids and hiking the Great Wall, so if I'm going to die, then I want to do things right.
Tomorrow I'll ask Max out on a proper date.
I. Am. Screwed.
-Fang
A/N2- So the house that's diagonally behind mine is full of (teenage) boys who play hockey and are athletic. As in, they paved their backyard so that they could play street hockey and ice it in the winter for regular hockey. Anyway, they have a party every year for their hockey team. Naturally, I decided to capitalize. It turns out that if I sit in just the right spot on my porch, I can see through the fence and into their backyard.
The night of the party, I made popcorn and went out onto the porch to boy-watch, since they have a pool, too. I was having a grand old time, when suddenly one of their balls (you know what I mean) comes flying over the fence. One of the guys climbs the fence, and right when he's on top of it –
He sees me with the popcorn watching them all.
His face screamed "WTF R U DOING CREEPER" and jumped back to his side of the fence. No one came back for the ball.
Life is awesome.
