All around us, windows smashed, and we jumped and threw our arms over our faces. I saw a gun hammering at the glass, then hairy hands with ragged claws popped the doors open.

There was no time even to get a good kick in-Fang and I were hauled out of the van and thrown to the ground.

“Run!” I bawled, then hissed in a breath as my nose took another jarring blow.

I glanced up in time to see the rear doors of the van open and Iggy and the Gasman shoot into the air. A rush of pure joy made me beam, then gag as fresh blood ran into my mouth.

I spit it out as the Erasers roared with fury and started shooting at the boys. But Iggy and Gazzy continued to soar into the air. Yes, yes, yes!

A kicking and shrieking Nudge was yanked from the back of the van and tossed down next to me. Tears were in her eyes, and I reached out to hold her.

An Eraser kicked me hard with his hand-sewn Italian boot. Ow!

“Tag. You’re it,” Ari cracked, and the others laughed, almost dancing with monstrous excitement and glee.

“It’s almost like you don’t want to go back to School,” he went on, showing his razor-sharp yellow teeth, dripping Eraser drool on me.

There were five Erasers and three of us. I’m weirdly, incredibly strong for my size, but Ari outweighed me by about 160 pounds, and he kept his booted foot pressed hard against my forehead. I wanted a shot at him-just one lethal, brain-splattering shot.

I met Fang’s eyes, which were dark and expressionless, and then Nudge’s. I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but since my face was one big gore-fest, it didn’t have the cheering effect I’d hoped for.

Then we all heard the horrible whup, whup of a chopper headed our way, and the Erasers started to shout and wave their arms.

“What a touching scene,” Ari called down at me. “We’re all going home. Just like old times.”

Angel was alive. As long as she was, I could deal with just about anything else.

I knew she was alive because I could see her in the pitiful cage next to mine. If we pushed our fingers through our bars as hard as we could, we were an inch away from actually touching each other.

“At least they gave you a big crate,” she said in a small, raspy voice. “I’m in a medium.”

My throat closed up. That she was still trying to be brave just rocked my world. I felt ashamed for taking so long to get here, ashamed for letting the Erasers catch us, ashamed for being a failure, even as a freak.

“It’s not your fault,” she said, reading my thoughts. She looked just terrible. Her eyes were hollow and smudged with huge purple shadows. One whole side of her face was a bruise going yellow and green at the edges. Angel looked thin and dry, like a leaf, her bones as delicate as stems. Her feathers were limp and dirty.

Across the aisle from us, Nudge and Fang were in crates of their own. Nudge looked really shaky, trying to get her fear under control but losing the fight. Fang sat with his hands clasped around his knees, not moving. He’d smiled at Angel when he’d first seen her, but mostly he looked cool, removed, distant. He was retreating into himself, the only place left to retreat to.

“I’m sorry, Max,” Angel whispered, her eyes troubled. “This is all my fault.”

“Don’t be dumb,” I told her, sounding Elmer Fuddish because of my clogged and broken nose. “It could happen to any of us. And it’s my fault that Fang, Nudge, and I got caught.”

All around me, the smells of cold metal and antiseptic were awakening horrible memories I had buried deep a long time ago. Flashes of light, pain, and fear kept popping inside my head, making me feel a little crazy. My nose had finally stopped bleeding, but it hurt. My headache was back-big-time-and I was seeing flashes of the strangest images. What was that all about?

“Max, there’s something I have to tell you.” Angel started to cry.

“Shh,” I said soothingly. “It can wait. Just rest. Try to feel better.”

“No, Max, it’s really important-”

A door opened, and loud footsteps sounded on the linoleum tile. Angel’s eyes were panicked in her bruised little face. Fury ignited in me that anything, anyone, could make a little girl so afraid.

I coiled my muscles, narrowing my eyes and putting on my fiercest look. They were going to be sorry they ever picked Angel to mess with. They were going to be sorry they’d ever been born.

My hands clenched into fists. I crouched in my crate, ready to spring at whoever opened it so I could rip their lungs out. I’d start with Ari, the creep of creeps.

Angel was hunched over now, crying silently, and inside I started freaking, wondering what on earth they had done to her. I felt totally wired on adrenaline, just nuts.

A pair of legs stopped right in front of my crate. I could see the edges of a white lab coat brushing the knees.

He bent down and looked into my crate with a gentle, rueful expression.

My heart almost stopped, and I fell backward off my heels.

“Maximum Ride,” said Jeb Batchelder. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much.”

I‘m hallucinating, I thought dazedly. I’m having an out-of-body experience.

Everything else in my vision faded away. I could see only Jeb, smiling at me through the bars of my dog crate.

Jeb had been the only parentlike person I’d ever had. He had kidnapped the six of us four years ago, stolen us away from this freak show and hidden us in the mountains in our house. He’d helped us learn how to fly- none of us had ever been allowed enough space to try before. He’d fed us, clothed us, and taught us survival skills, how to fight, how to read. He’d told jokes and read stories and let us play video games. He’d made us dinner and tucked us in at night. Whenever I’d felt afraid, I’d remind myself that Jeb was there and that he would protect us, and then I’d always feel better.

Two years ago, he’d disappeared.

We’d always known he’d been killed. We’d known that he would have died rather than disclose our location. That he died trying to protect us. That kind of thing.

For the last two years, we’d all missed Jeb so much, with a horrible, aching, wailing pain that just wouldn’t stop. You know-like if your dad or mom died. It had been so awful in the beginning, when he hadn’t come home, and then when we’d had to accept that he never would.

Dead or alive, he’d been my hero. Every day. For the last four years.

Now my eyes were telling me that he was one of them. That maybe he’d been one of them all along. That everything I’d ever known or felt about him had been a rotten, stinking lie.

Now Angel’s words, her fear, her tears, made horrible sense. She’d known.

I was dying to look at her, at Fang or Nudge, to see their reactions.

I just wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Like a door slamming shut, everything in me that had loved and trusted Jeb closed down. In its place rose new feelings that were so powerful and full of hate that they scared me.

Which is saying something.

“I know you’re surprised,” he said with a smile. “Come on. I need to talk to you.”

He unlatched my dog door and held it open. In a nanosecond, I had a plan of action: not to act. Just to listen and watch. To absorb everything and give out nothing.

Okay, as a plan, it wasn’t the blueprint of Westminster Abbey, but it was a start.

Slowly, I climbed out of my crate. My muscles groaned when I stood up. I didn’t look at any of the flock when I passed, but I put my right hand behind my back, two fingers together.

It was our sign that said “Wait.”

Jeb had taught it to us.