“Duty calls,” I said. “Ange?”

In a smooth movement, the doctor stepped between me and the tent’s entrance. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he whipped out a syringe. “Just a minute, Max. It’s not that simple.”

I SMILED MY EVIL itching-for-a-fight smile, wishing I hadn’t stuffed my pockets with bacon. This could get messy.

“Max – wait,” Angel said. “He doesn’t mean us harm.”

“And you know this beca -,” I began sarcastically, then realized that she probably did actually know that. Dylan had a familiar alertness, a tensing of muscles that made me wonder if he’d been trained for battle. I guessed I would find out.

“Angel is right,” said Dr. G-H quickly. “This is my clumsy way of demonstrating.”

“Demonstrating what?” I was barely able to keep a snarl out of my voice. “How to get yourself beat up in one easy step?”

“No,” said Dr. G-H. “Demonstrating the wonders of modern science. Watch.”

And with that he rolled up one sleeve and swiftly injected himself with the hypo. It was something new and different, to watch a scientist experiment on himself. I liked it.

Within moments the doctor gasped, wide-eyed, sucking in breath. He groaned and staggered a bit, holding his throat, then sank down into a chair.

Angel was eating a banana and watching him avidly. I sent her a question: What’s going on?

She looked at me and shrugged. No clue.

I sat down and snagged another cup of coffee and a muffin, since it looked like this might take a while.

For several minutes the doctor hunched over, grimacing. Then he managed to speak in wheezy gasps. “I’ve injected… a rare strain of virus… that is… going to cause a rather… shocking reaction.”

“What you science types do for fun,” I said with false cheer. Having grown up in a lab, I associated the words rare virus with hazmat suits. I wanted out of there.

He frowned. “Clearly not for fun. But for progress. Sometimes progress is… painful. Now, watch.”

Sweat broke out on his brow, and his face turned bright red. And get ready for this most horrific next part, kids: All at once, his skin erupted in grotesque pustules.

I jumped up. “Outta here, dudes!”

“No, wait, Max!” he gasped hoarsely. “The miracle is about to begin.”

The only reasons I didn’t do an up-and-away were (a) it’s hard in a tent, and (b) when I did a double take, I saw that the doc’s pustules were already shrinking.

Could I have imagined it? I sat back down shakily.

“To explain it in very basic lay terms,” he went on, more quickly now that he wasn’t gasping for air, “a number of my organs and systems – including the skin, brain, blood cells, thyroid, the entire immune system – are now working together to analyze the virus, produce the white blood cell and glandular response that will eradicate the virus, and circulate it through my body – almost instantaneously.”

“Okay. I can see how that might come in handy,” I said, thinking about the sick refugees I’d seen in the camp. “Especially if it puts doctors like you out of business. I don’t trust doctors.”

The doctor smiled. “You’re getting the picture, Max. Because in an apocalypse, there are no doctors. There are no hospitals and certainly no insurance companies. You are on your own. It is you against the forces of nature, which at this point in Earth’s history surely see it as in their best interest to eradicate the human race. Do you understand what I mean, Max? Let me give you another example.”

He pulled out a meat cleaver.

BEFORE I HAD A CHANCE to disappear – fast – Dr. Gunther-Hagen had hacked off the tip of his left pinkie finger.

You heard me right.

Angel screamed. I screamed. The madman screamed too, in pain, then regained his composure.

“Don’t worry, children,” he grunted. “My biological healing system… is now working together with an advanced stem cell response. I’m able to reposition my severed fingertip” – he moved it back into place and pressed it to his stub, with a pained expression – “or, even more miraculously, were you willing to stay with me for the next several days, you could actually watch a new one grow right back in its place.”

“Whoa” was all I could say. Dylan looked unmoved by the whole thing. Guess people sprouting new limbs was common where he came from.

A moment later the doctor held up his left hand and wiggled all five fingers – intact. This guy was seriously starting to worry me, and I began to back slowly toward the door, ready to leap out of the way if he lunged at me with a needle. Or a meat cleaver.

Angel looked excited, and I frowned. Typical yin-yang response from us.

“Okay, I think I get it,” I said. “I also get that it all seems a little too good to be true.”

“What makes you say that?” the doctor asked, examining his healed finger with satisfaction.

“Well… that must be some pretty super-mega-powerful body chemistry happening there. If it can kill a virus in a single explosion… could it, say, accidentally kill you? Or could you accidentally grow an ear instead of a fingertip? How about a claw?”

The doctor waved his hand impatiently. “Of course there are bugs that need to be worked out. Certainly, overactive autoimmune response can be a tricky business, among other challenges. We’re working on that, but in the meantime we have the pharmacology to counteract the side effects. My point is that once those bugs are solved, a world of possibilities opens up.”

And a world of unpredictable chaos, I thought.

“After the apocalypse, we could all be living like cavemen again,” the doctor said. “We could be hunted by huge mutant carnivores, things we can’t even imagine now. We need every weapon, shield, and protection in our arsenal. And here’s the important thing, Max. Remember this if you remember nothing else: We must be our own weapons.”

His eyes were focused intently on me. I’ll just ask now: What is it about my persona that draws every insane, power-hungry nutcase to me like a magnet?

“We will have to survive on our own strengths. You can fly. You and the flock have gifts. Dylan here is also gifted, and in some ways different from you. But this kind of healing ability will be the difference between life and death in the near future.”

“Wow,” I said. Traditionally, I would have come up with something snappy and/or scathing here, but I have to tell you, this guy unnerved me.

Because, in a crazy way, what he was saying made some degree of sense.

“It’s… really impressive,” I said. “But I don’t see what it has to do with me, with us.”

Dr. G-H straightened. “I asked you here to discuss a possible alliance between us – a partnership, if you will: your flock and my companies, me, and Dylan. With your natural abilities and the powers of science I’m unleashing, we can, in essence, ensure the survival of humankind.”

“We would be allies?” Angel asked.

“No,” I told her, giving her a warning look that she ignored. Again, I started to make my way toward the door.

“You six are the most successful recombinant-DNA life-forms ever created,” Dr. G-H went on earnestly. “until now.” He motioned proudly to Dylan, who had the decency to look embarrassed. “My companies are producing some of the most cutting-edge, daring science in the world today. Together, we could actually achieve your mission – to save the world.”

I stopped in my tracks and turned back to face him. Okay, he had insider info.

“Sorry. Thanks for asking. But the flock works alone.” I was acutely aware of Dylan’s steady gaze, his tightly coiled tension as he watched the doctor. “Thanks for the great breakfast,” I added. “I’m really impressed with your science and all. But I don’t think we’re the right partners for you.”

That was probably the most diplomatic, least obnoxious reply I’d ever given anyone in my whole life.