“Kind of,” I said, my patience starting to wear thin. “It’ll take two seconds.”

I told Fang, “I’ll catch up with you guys before you’ve gone forty miles. Just keep on course, and if anything weird happens, I’ll meet you at Lake Mead.”

Fang stared ahead, the wind whipping through his hair. He hated this, I knew.

Well, you can’t please everybody all the time.

“Okay,” I said briskly. “See you in a few.”

The thing about Iggy was, well, sometimes he could figure stuff out like a real scientist. He was that supersmart, scary smart.

“Do we have any chlorine?” the Gasman asked Iggy. “It seems to be kind of explosive when mixed with other stuff.”

Iggy frowned. “Like what, your socks? No, we don’t have chlorine. No swimming pool. What color is this wire?”

The Gasman leaned over and examined the tangled pile of stereo guts spread out on the kitchen table. “It looks like a robot came in here and threw up,” he observed. “That wire’s yellow.”

“Okay. Keep track of the yellow wire. Very important. Do not confuse it with the red one.”

The Gasman consulted the schematics he had downloaded off the Internet. This morning Iggy had unfrozen the compressor fan inside the CPU, so the computer now worked without shutting down in hysteria every ten minutes. He had just fixed the computer, presto change-o.

“Okey dokey,” Gazzy muttered, flipping through pages. “Next step, we need some kind of timing device.”

Iggy thought for a moment. Then he smiled. Even his eyes seemed to smile.

“Well, that’s an evil grin,” Gasser said uneasily.

“Go get me Max’s alarm clock. The Mickey Mouse one.”

I landed a bit hard and had to run really fast to keep from doing a total face plant. 1 was somewhere in Arizona, trotting through scrubby brush behind a deserted warehouse. I pulled my wings in, feeling them fold, hot from exercise, into a tight accordion on either side of my spine. I tied my windbreaker around my neck. There. Perfectly normal looking.

When I rounded the corner of the warehouse, I saw that there were three guys, maybe fifteen, sixteen years old. The girl looked younger, maybe twelve or so.

“I told you not to tell anybody about my little situation with Ortiz,” one boy was yelling at her. “It was none of your business. I had to teach him a lesson.”

The girl bit her lip, looking angry and scared. “By beating him up? He looks like he got hit by a car. And he didn’t do anything to you,” she said, and I thought, You go, girl.

“He mouthed off to me. He exists. He breathes my air.” said the guy, and his jerk friends laughed meanly. God, what creeps. Armed creeps. One of them was holding a shotgun loosely in the crook of his arm. America, right to bear arms, yada, yada, yada. How old were these yahoos? Did their parents know they had guns?

It gets so tiring, this strong-picking-on-the-weak stuff. It was the story of my life-literally-and it seemed to be a big part of the outside world too. I was sick of it, sick of guys like these, stupid and bullying.

I stepped out from beside the building. The girl saw me, and her eyes flicked in surprise. It was enough. The guys wheeled to look behind them.

Just another stupid girl, they thought, relieved. Their eyes lingered a moment on my scratched face, my black eye, but they didn’t keep watching me. Mistake number one.

“So, Ella, what have you got to say for yourself?” the lead guy taunted. “Is there any reason I shouldn’t teach you a lesson too?”

“Three guys against one girl. That seems about even,” I said, striding up. It was hard to keep the fury off my face. My blood was singing with it.

“Shut up, chick,” one of the boys snapped. “You better get out of here if you know what’s good for you.”

“Can’t,” I said, walking to stand next to the girl named Ella. She looked at me in alarm. “Actually, I think kicking your stupid butts would be good for me.”

They laughed. Mistake number two.

Like the rest of the flock, I’m much stronger than even a grown man-genetic engineering at work. And all of us had been trained in self-defense by Jeb. I had skills. Until yesterday, I’d never had to use them. If I could just get Ella out of here…

“Grab Big Mouth,” said the head guy, and the other two moved to flank me.

Which made mistake number three. Bam, you’re out.

I moved fast, fast, fast. With no warning, I snapped a high kick right into the lead jerk’s chest. A blow that would have only knocked Fang’s breath away actually seemed to snap a rib on this guy. I heard the crack, and the guy choked, looking shocked, and fell backward.

The remaining guys rushed me at once. I whirled and grabbed the shotgun out of one’s hands. Holding its barrel, I swung it in a wide arc against the side of his head. Crack! Stunned, he staggered sideways as a bright red flow of blood streamed from his scalp.

I glanced over and saw Ella still standing there, looking afraid. 1 hoped not of me.

“Run!” I yelled at her. “Get out of here!” After a moment of hesitation, she turned and ran, leaving a little cloud of red dust behind her.

The third grabbed my arm, and I yanked it loose, then swung and punched him, aiming for his chin but hitting his nose. I winced-oops-feeling his nose break, and there was a slow-motion pause of about a second before it started gushing blood. Jeezum-humans were like eggshells.

The bullyboys were a mess. But still they staggered to their feet, rage and humiliation twisting their ugly faces. One of them picked up his gun and cocked it, favoring his right arm.

“You’re gonna be so sorry,” he promised, spitting blood out of his mouth and starting toward me.

“Bet I won’t,” I said. Then I turned tail and raced for the woods as fast as I could.

Of course, if I could have taken off, I’d have been a little speck in the sky by then. But T couldn’t let those yoyos see my wings, and within seconds I was in the woods anyway.

I ran through the underbrush, smacking branches out of my way, glad I was wearing shoes. I had no idea where I was going.

Behind me I could hear a couple of the bozos yelling, swearing, threatening. I wanted to laugh but couldn’t spare the time. I was steadily increasing the distance between us.

Then I heard a loud bang! from the shotgun, and tree bark exploded around my head. That stupid gun.

Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking? Are you wondering if I noticed the similarities between this asinine situation and my dream? Well, yeah. I’m not an idiot. As to what it all meant, well, I’ll work on that later.

In the next second, there was another bang, and almost simultaneously a sudden, searing pain in my left shoulder. I gasped and glanced over to see blood blossoming on my sleeve. That idiot had actually hit me!

Then sheer bad luck made me instantly trip over a tree root, fall on my hurt shoulder, and slide crazily down a steep slope, through bushes, underbrush, vines, and rocks. I tried to grab anything, but my left arm couldn’t move well, and my right hand scrabbled uselessly.

Finally, I tumbled to a stop at the bottom of an overgrown ravine. Looking up, I saw only green: I was covered by vines and shrubs.

I lay very still, trying to catch my breath, trying to think. Far above me, I heard the wild boys yelling and shooting again. They sounded like elephants crashing through the woods, and I tracked them clearly as they ran right past where I fell.

I felt like an ogre had just beaten me all over with a club. I could barely move my left arm, and it hurt like fire. I tried to stretch out my wing, only to suck my breath in hard as I found out it had been hit too. I couldn’t see it well over my shoulder, but my big clue was the screaming pain.