Jeez, was that a lion? Please tell me it’s behind bars.”
“It’s a zoo, Iggy,” Nudge said, taking his arms and leading him. “Everything’s behind bars.
Just for fun I flew in huge banking arcs, taking deep breaths, enjoying the feel of my newly weightless hair. The stylist had called it “wind tossed.”
If only she knew.
I shot him the bird. (Get it? I shot him the—never mind.)
James PattersonI want to know about my mom. And other stuff. I want to know the whole story, good or bad.”
“Me, too,” said Gazzy. “I want to find my parents so I can tell’m what total scuzzes they are. Like, ‘Hi, mom and dad, you’re such scum!
You have a memory chip that small implanted in you,” he verified.
I nodded, guessing this was somewhat worse than having cooties.
Max?” said the Gasman. “Are those, um, rats?”
Lovely. “Yes, those do appear to be either rats or mice on steroids,” I said briskly, trying not to shriek and climb the walls like a girly-girl.
I couldn’t leave Total behind.”
“Total?” Iggy asked.
“That’s what his card said,” Angel explained.
“Totally a mutant dog who will probably turn on us and kill us in our sleep,” Fang said.
Fang. I had to do some thinking about him.
Me. I had some thinking to do about me too.
Did I want a dog? No. Did I need a dog? Also no. We were six kids running for our lives, not knowing where our next meal was coming from. Could we afford to feed a dog? Wait for it—no.
James PattersonI just wish I could walk into my Senator’s office and say, “Senator Dude, Um, we have a problem with these sicko scientists…”
But then again, I don’t think we have a Senator, do we? Is there a state where mutant freaks are represented? If so, let me know.
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