Oh, man. This was not the best day I’d ever had. My shoulder was still bleeding a bit, even though I’d been pressing on it for hours. Every time I jostled it, warm blood oozed through my fingers.
I hadn’t run into the gun-carrying clowns again, but I’d heard them off and on. I’d been working my way north in a big arc, trying to weave a confusing trail for whoever might be following me. Everytime I heard them, I froze for endless minutes, trying to blend in with the bush.
Then, cramped and stiffening, I would painstakingly start again. In case they brought dogs, I’d splashed through streams at least four times, and let me tell you, trying to keep your balance on moss-covered rocks in icy water with a hurt shoulder is no picnic.
I’d felt around my shoulder and wing, and as far as I could tell, the shot had just scooped out a trail of flesh and wing but hadn’t actually lodge inside. Whatever- my arm and wing felt useless and they hurt awfully.
It was getting late. Angel was somewhere hours away, being subjected to God knows what horror, wondering where i was. I pressed my lips together, trying not to cry. I couldn’t fly, couldn’t catch up to Fang and Nudge, who were probably furious by now. It wasn’t like I could call their cell phones or anything.
This situation totally sucked, and it was 100 percent my own stupid fault, which made it suck even worse.
Then, of course, it started pouring.
So now I was slogging my way through wet woods, wet brush, red clay mud, wiping water out of my eyes, getting more chilled and more miserable and more hungry and more insanely furious at myself.
Congratulations. The fact that you’re reading this means you’ve taken one giant step closer to surviving till your next birthday. Yes, you, standing there leafing through these pages. Do not put this book down. I’m dead serious- your life could depend on it.
This is my story, the story of my family, but it could just as easily be your story too. We’re all in this together; trust me on that.
I’ve never done anything like this, so I’m just going to jump in, and you try to keep up.
Okay. I’m Max. I’m fourteen. I live with my family, who are five kids not related to me by blood, but still totally my family.
We’re- well, we’re kind of amazing. Not to sound too full of myself, but we’re like nothing you’ve ever seen before.
Basically, we’re pretty cool, nice, smart- but not “average” in any way. The six of us- me, Fang, Iggy, Nudge, the Gasman, and Angel- were made on purpose, but the sickest, most horrible “scientists” you could possible imagine. They created us as an experiment. AN experiment where we ended up only 98 percent human. That other 2 percent has had a big impact, let me tell you.
We grew up in a science lab/prison called the School, in cages, like lab rats. It’s pretty amazing we can think or speak at all. But we can- and so much more.
There was one other School experiment that made it past infancy. Part human, part wolf- all predator: They’re called Erasers. They’re tough, smart, and hard to control. They look human, but when they want to, they are capable of morphing into wolf men, complete with fur, fangs and claws. The School uses them as guards, police- and executioners.
To them, we’re six moving targets- prey smart enough to be a fun challenge. Basically, they want to rip our throats out. And make sure the world never finds out about us.
But i’m not lying down just yet. I’m telling you, right?
This story could be about you- or your children. If not today, then soon. So please, please take this seriously. I’m risking everything that matters by telling you- but you need to know.
Keep reading- don’t let anyone stop you.
-Max. And my family: Fang, Iggy, Nudge, the gasman, and Angel.
Welcome to our nightmare.
I looked at her helplessly. It was the first time I had ever connected with a nonflock human being- beside Jeb.
It had been really cool. The best.
Plus her mom was so awesome. She was strict about some things- don’t leave your socks lying around- but so not strict about other things, like calling the cops about my bullet wound. Unlike any other parent I’d ever heard of, she didn’t press for details, didn’t lecture and believed what I said. She actually accepted me. Like she accepted Ella, for who she was.
It was enough to give me a psychotic break- if I let myself dwell on it.
“Probably not,” I said, hating the hurt look on Ella’s face. “I just- don’t think I’ll be able to. If I ever could, I would, but-”
I turned away and started brushing my teeth. Jeb had always said to think with your brain, not your emotions. He’d been right as usual. So I put all my feelings in a box and locked it.
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