won't go into here), and seven-year-old Angel—and I. (my name is Maximum Ride, aka Max) had flown out here to Arizona. And now they were chillaxing—. the Maximum Ride books are not the same Max and kids featured in those two books. Nor do Frannie Angel A Dictionary of Angels, including the fallen angels . Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment. Home · Maximum Ride: The Angel James Patterson - Maximum Ride 1 - The Angel Experiment · Read more.

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Max and the other kids in the Maximum Ride books are not the same Max and kids . Suddenly, out of nowhere, Angel dropped down onto me with all her. Maximum Ride: the angel experiment / by James Patterson. — 1st ed. Summary: After the mutant Erasers abduct the youngest member of their group, the. PDF Angel A Maximum Ride Novel by James Patterson. July 16, Angel: A Maximum Ride Novel by James Patterson PDF.

They want all kids to be genetically modified and to lead a new world order. Whereas Max's flock was created in test tubes from a mix of human and avian DNA, Fang's new group has been genetically modified in a lab after birth. Fang has been told to begin a gang in order to save the world. After Max's sister is almost enhanced by the Doomsday Group, the flock and the gang join forces to fight the Group.

They manage to keep the Group from killing tens of thousands of people in Paris, but they still have not discovered the identity of the mastermind, the One Light.

Max battles her feelings for Fang and her growing feelings for Dylan. She feels replaced in Fang's life by Maya. Fang feels he must sacrifice their relationship to save the world. At the end of the book, the gang and the flock go separate ways. Angel is believed dead, but is really being held in a lab. He smiled, baring long yellow teeth.

You ready to die? For maybe the first time in his life, Fang felt. She confidently squeezed herself between some girls who looked less than thrilled at her arrival. That decided it. She even patted the bench next to her. It was almost scary, the effect he had. Thank God I was completely immune to it. I sat down and a sudden silence fell as the girls looked at my heavily laden lunch tray. Dylan seemed oblivious, and kept up his easy conversation with Nudge.

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Nudge popped open her juice. Eyes quickly turned to her and heads nodded. I busied myself with my huge chunk of cafeteria meat loaf. Then it hit me: Nudge really did fit into this world. He grinned. Dylan smiled wider and I felt a tiny thrill run down my spine.

I knew I was courting danger, but this kind of easy almost flirtation was rapidly becoming addictive. Nothing needs to be the new black, because black will always, always be the new black! I had no idea what they were talking about.

Black what? A whole school of them! Nudge pressed her lips together; it had been going so well.

I started working intently on my square of spice cake. Oh, yeah, that could happen. No prob.

He turned to Madison. Were you born this way, or did something happen to you? Nudge gritted her teeth and stared down at her food, mortified.

Yep, we spread joy and sunshine wherever we go. Nudge is walking home, unwilling to be seen with any of us. And Iggy has soccer. He patted the seat behind him.

He felt warm and solid. It was almost scary. I felt the motorcycle slow, and then come to a rolling stop. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes. Dylan climbed off the motorcycle and held it steady while I got off. He waved his hand at the view.

We were on the coastal highway, with rocky cliffs on one side and the Oregon coast in front of us. Seagulls wheeled above the waves, cawing, and I wanted to join them. I moved to the railing, ready to jump off. His face was solemn, his eyes a darker shade of teal.

I wanted to share it with you because. The youngest member of our flock. My littlest bird. I was assaulted with memories: Angel smiling sweetly at Total, her pale blond curls making a halo of fluff around her head. I grimaced, thinking of Paris and the explosion. He gave a sad smile and gestured out at the vast ocean, the craggy cliffs behind us.

She never would be again. Dylan put his hand on my shoulder, holding me as I tried to spin away. He pulled me to him firmly, cradling me against his hard chest, one hand on the back of my neck, the other on my back. I know. Let it out, Max.

Max (Maximum Ride, Book 5)

Just let it all out. My baby was gone. I had needed to grieve over Angel. And I had a lot of other things to grieve about, too. And so finally, after all this time, I wailed my guts out. All over Dylan. I pulled away from him awkwardly.

But Dylan was still looking at my puffy face. I did. I could still picture her smile shining victoriously out of her dirty face, the boy clutched in her arms, her wings gray with smoke.

Angel, rising from the ashes. I wiped my nose. He was silent for a moment, looking out over the ocean. His hair looked dusty in the afternoon sun. I looked up at him, surprised at his directness. They sat like a pile of rocks in my stomach. Building and building. I just wanted to tell you that if you ever need to not be strong, you can lean on me.

Dylan looked into my eyes with such naked trust I had to look away. Below, the waves smashed into the rocks, spraying a cool mist over everything, and I felt goose bumps rise on my arms. Dylan was so different. His emotions were raw, on the surface for everyone to see, and the sarcastic wall that had protected me so efficiently in the past was slowly crumbling in the face of his honesty.

I felt vulnerable, exposed, so out of my element. I shifted uncomfortably. Dylan smiled, his face lighting up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I took a deep breath, and together we jumped off. Our wings took us high over the water, up and up until the cars on the highway looked like shiny beetles, bustling to and fro.

We wheeled freely through the air, no destination in mind, copying the gulls, seeing dark schools of fish in the water below. My chest expanded again, after being all crumpled up from crying. I felt my heart beating hard, felt the cool mist against my skin, and I felt fresh and alive and somehow lighter. Dylan was good for me, in some ways. I had to admit it.

I looked at him, eyebrows raised. I literally forgot to flap my wings for a couple of seconds, and plummeted about fifteen feet before they started working on their own.

I just know I do. And I know that love has to go both ways. You might not love me now, but I hope you will, in time. I can wait. There were no nights. There were tubes and bright lights and indistinct voices. And pain. Always, always pain. This had to be better than the crisp white sheets, the stretcher that meant scalpels and masks and gloved hands always reaching for her. She never wanted to be touched again.

She felt around in the cage, her hands brushing against the cool metal of the bars.

She searched for a water bottle; her throat was sore from the feeding tube. She was covered with bruises, and her healing wounds stung. She was way past that.

But there were no answers, so she had stopped asking. But in the end, she was still just a little kid, with bones that could snap and a heart that could break. She was broken. And totally alone. A long, silent sob trapped in her chest, Angel curled up on the thin towel in the corner of the kennel and went to sleep. Her heart raced in time to the familiar fear, the dread that made her whole body quiver, but Angel resisted. For several long, delicious moments she allowed herself to indulge the fantasy that it was Max calling her to wake.

The back of her head stung unbearably from the icy water and she tentatively touched it with her fingers. A small section of hair had been shaved, and a neat line of small stitches made tiny ridges under her fingers. A pitiful cry escaped her lips. Angel saw extremely well in the dark, but then a lit screen flickered on, several feet away.

She saw a young child, a boy, with pale, almost white hair. He was lying on a table, very still, covered with a sheet. A crisp, white, sterile sheet. The camera panned to look down on the boy, and Angel saw that he was in an operating room. He had a mask over his nose and mouth, and his eyes were clamped open. It was a feeling she knew well: pure, undiluted terror. It was Iggy as a little kid. One doctor, his eyes hidden behind large magnifying glasses, spoke directly to the camera.

We estimate that the subject will have its night vision improved by at least four hundred percent.

Angel shook her head, horrified. She stared as the scalpel found its mark and plunged in as if slicing a boiled egg, as tweezers pinched and needles probed, as blood pooled and tubes suctioned it away. As they hacked into him, like butchers. The whole time. Angel shrank back into her crate and squeezed her own eyes shut, the screams echoing in her ears.

She had just seen a film of the crazy whitecoats at the School making Iggy blind. Angel thought with rising hysteria.

You mean the total blindness? That result? Those were the days of cavemen. The science, the technique, is vastly improved. This time, it will go beautifully. This time, they would operate on Angel.

On her eyes. You saved Max. Fang shifted his weight, primed to leap.

Four more thugs climbed out of the truck to stand behind Ari, looking like a row of college linebackers. She was standing beside Kate, her face even tenser than usual, and Holden was right behind them.

Ratchet was glowering at these ugly strangers, smacking the tire iron against his palm. And more important: Why was he suddenly evil again? Fight or flight? Right at him. Instantly, Fang unfroze, his instincts going from shock to hyperdrive in zero point two seconds.

The missile missed Fang by a hair, singeing his shirt as it shot past. Their van exploded in a mushroom of flames, flying metal, and roiling black smoke. Fang jumped to his feet, ears ringing.

Ratchet was hardly visible through the thick black smoke. Well, any of them except. He was still grinning wickedly, like a tiger cornering its prey. You and me. She stepped forward, putting herself between Ari and Fang. Got it?

She was as stubborn as a mule. Like someone else he knew. Ari laughed, his yellow fangs glinting. The life of a clone, so difficult. Did Fang pick you up in the discount aisle? Maya crashed into Ari, her eyes furious and vengeful, knocking the missile launcher out of his grasp with one swift kick. Team or no team, Ari was his fight. Away from Ari and Maya. I have to get back there, Fang thought, trying to see through the wall of hulking bodies. Maya was hard core, but Fang had known Ari to be a vicious fighter, and this new version of Ari would likely be even tougher.

He hovered about fifty feet up, searching the scene. There, near the demolished van, landing blow after blow, was Maya, holding her own. He was clearly sweating with the effort, and his face was furious.

And surprised. Fang almost smiled. She was beautiful to watch. He scanned the road and spotted Holden backed into a corner with an Eraser. Fang frowned. The Eraser advanced on him, murder in his feral eyes. Fang stood up, looking around for Holden, and caught a glimpse of Ratchet wailing on some guy with the tire iron.

As Ratchet crumpled to the ground, the Eraser gave Kate a brief nod of acknowledgment. Kate shook her head slowly, apologetic. Before Fang could respond, two Erasers charged toward him, and everything was a blur of color and instincts. Fang, on autopilot, kicked and dodged, feeling hollow, anger driving him as he beat the freak out of the guys while Star and Kate just watched.

Everything was eerily quiet without the sounds of battle. Fang nodded. It had felt so satisfying, sweating through his fury.They werent actually being chased, he reminded himself. We got company. I had almost forgotten how much fun it could be to bait people.

But more on that later.


Her wings were spread out behind her, her ravaged legs swinging into nothingness, her ears straining in the strange new silence. One last incredible, explosive adventure with an astonishing ending that no one could have seen coming. The wind whipping through your hair, the sense of freedom, the bugs slamming into your faceits flying, but on the ground, burning gasoline and making a lot of noise.

His nose twitched in distaste. Brigid and John, with their quaint notion of not sleeping in their clothes, were taking longer to get ready. Chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven.

GLENDA from Johnson City
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