A/N: Okay, here's chapter two. And for the record, I do not like Dylan. I won't say I hate him, but I don't want him to be with Max. At all. Ever. So this is not a pro-Mylan story. I just wanted to clear that up.
You're probably wondering "Claire, why didn't you update sooner?" And I could give you a few real excuses like "My computer stopped working." Or "I had tennis every day this week." But the truthful reason is that, while seven of you put me on story alert, only four of you reviewed. So I wasn't really eager to get back to writing, and I was disappointed that people read this and subscribed without sharing their critique. A huge thanks to the handful of you who reviewed, it means so much to me that people are taking their precious time helping me improve my writing, or encouraging me to continue, or both. And to those of you who did not review, you still defiantly deserve my thanks for reading, but I feel like I'm wasting my time typing if I won't even get comments. SO REVIEW THIS TIME PLEASE!(:
Disclaimer: If I owned Maximum Ride, these things I'm writing wouldn't be called fanfictions, they would be extinctions to the original story. Sadly, that isn't the case because I do not own Maximum Ride, James Patterson does.
Chapter Two
The School, CA
Dylan's POV
Mymind races as I rush into the lab, one single thought consuming every ounce of my brain:
Get to Max. The rest will follow.
The moment I burst through the doors of the lab I start taking down white coats. It's simple. It's clear they are incompetent with fighting skills, and there are only three. They are knocked out and on the ground within less than a minute; but not before one of them had managed to pull an alarm. I curse under my breath as sirens start to wail and red lights flash overhead.
I turn around to face Max, who is lying almost lifelessly on the table. Her skin, normally tan and glowing with life, is drained of color and looks almost transparent under the fluorescents. She has always been thin, but now looks starved, the hollows of her cheeks are prominent, and her muscles are almost nonexistent. She's obviously still alive, though. Her chest rises and falls with her shallow breath, her eyes are half open, and she stares at me like I'm her savior. Which, maybe I am. After all, she's nearly dead, but I don't give this much thought. The task at hand is getting out of here, so I focus on that.
Her appendages are bound to the operation table, I quickly undo her confines and she's alert enough to spring to her feet. I spent the few paces it takes to cross the room and fling the door back on its hinges. Thankfully, it was cracked open. If it hadn't been it would surely have locked automatically when the alarms started, something I knew from the little experience I had with escape missions. Just as I'm about to race out the door, Max catches me in a tight embrace, before I know what's happening, her lips are on mine, deliberate and forceful with a million emotions. I've barely grasped what's happened before she releases me, whispers "Thank you for saving me," and sprints out the door, I follow at her heels in a daze, wanting to hold her in my arms again, but we have to get out of here.
We enter a long white corridor with several doors. As soon as we cross the doorway into the hall erasers swarm us. I'm taken aback by how gracefully she takes them down, even in her shaky state. She easily takes on eraser after eraser; I'm amazed at the speed and strength she demonstrates despite her small frame. She knocks them out as quickly as she sees them, delivering roundhouse kicks that snap their genetically strengthened ribs like they're twigs, and punches to their temples that send them to their knees. It's incredible really, what she can manage, especially when you take into account that she weighs not even a hundred pounds.
When she slams her open palms against either side of one's head, effectively popping his eardrums, I realize I'm not helping. I start taking them down myself, but it's clear they are not targeting me, Max is the desired opponent. She is the one they have orders to capture. So I stand in front of her and intervene any erasers that come close to her.
It's surprising how incredibly advanced we are compared to the wolfish beasts we can so easily kill. We're both genetically engineered, neither of us are entirely human, both our DNA's have been mutilated by the same "scientists," and yet we have the obvious advantage. We are lighter on our feet, and much faster. Especially Max. While it's true they are a great deal stronger, they are heavier and clumsier because of it. Their short-fused tempers make them easy to figure out, and therefore, easy targets. Soon the number of erasers pouring though the doors lessens, and we are able to move down the hallway while occasionally coming into contact with one of them. When we're out the door at the end of the corridor we can run without anyone or anything standing in our way.
It's easy to get lost in labs like this, no question. All the stark white walls look the same. There are two kinds of rooms: hallways, and the labs the hallways lead too. There's little variation besides that. Size varies, but color is the same. Sterile smell is the same. Gruesome experiments are always horrible and in cages, white coats always seeming to look alike…there's no way to tell where you are, it's misery.
As we scamper through the endless building like rats, it seems increasingly apparent that we're lost, even though this surely can't be the case. We keep running, and an animal instinct to get out seems to take over. I take out an occasional white coat or guard with ease, avian instincts tell me which turn is the right one, and eventually, we get out with what seems like a mob following us.
"The air, Max!" I shout, which is ridiculous, of course. That's the obvious thing to do. And she's already fifty feet above me, white-and-brown speckled wings stretched to their full fourteen feet, surging upward at impossible speed. I don't hesitate to follow.
All I take into notice are the erasers shouting profanities at us from where they stand on the ground, I smirk at the helpless, unarmed creatures. "Not today, assholes," I mutter down at them, far too quietly for them to hear, and soar toward the clouds, towards Max, forgetting the horror below us and only thinking of her, and what lies ahead.
Somewhere, CA
Max's POV
We had been flying for hours, we were well away from the school, and were currently resting on a vacant, rocky beach somewhere in California. "You have no idea how much I missed you," Dylan whispers, intertwining his fingers in mine. "I do," I say just as quietly, "it was misery there, the tests were bad, but being away from you was a hundred times worse…life without you is…unbearable," I stammer, it's hard getting the words out, even though they're true. He gives me a warm smile that lights up those incredible eyes, and then he's kissing me, and I don't even consider pulling away, in fact, I do the opposite.
"You mean the world to me, Max," he murmers, kissing down my neck. "I feel the same way about you," I sigh. For a minute, all is silent as we're consumed in one another, and it's so amazing how right it feels to be with him. Maybe we're perfect for one another after all. And after a few more seconds I feel him smile at the corner of my lips, he pulls back a few inches, and says five words in a soft, gentle voice. "I knew you'd come around." And I close my eyes as his lips find mine again, his hands tangle in my hair, and all I can hear are the quick paces of our hearts and the lapping of the ocean on the sand.
The School, CA
Third Person Perspective
Marissa Walton smiled sinisterly at the monitor, and talked in a businesslike manner into the transceiver wrapped behind her ear and in front of her mouth. "I have visual on avian/human experiments one and forty-seven," Buzzed the static filled voice on the other end of the line. "I see that, Brian, thank you," Marissa murmured, a smile tinting her voice with wrongful happiness. The monitor showed what Brian's camera picked up, and now they were both seeing two winged teenagers happily making out on the beach, very unaware they were being followed.
Experiment one's face showed no shadow of distrust or unhappiness, only the lust of a young girl who believed she was in love. Experiment forty-seven showed no sign of knowing her love was all an illusion orchestrated by herself and her co-director and carried out by the scientists they employed. Everything was going exactly as planned. "Keep following them, Brian," she said, "and stay hidden." She clicked of her receiver before she could hear his reply. She stood up and strut out of the room in her spiky red heels, perfect lips stretched over straight white teeth in a wicked grin.
A/N: I know it's not super long, but it's much longer than the last chapter and I think this one is a decent length, even though I personally like chapter one better. Let me know what you like or don't like about this story! Help me improve! IF YOU ARE READING THIS, PLEASE REVIEW. I DIDN'T JUST STAY UP 'TIL 2:00 AM WRITING FOR THREE AND A HALF HOURS FOR NOTHING!
And also… the more reviews I get, the more pressured I'll be to write. Not only will I put more effort into it, I'll update faster. SO PRESS THAT REVIEW BUTTON!