Ah, what a lovely day. A clear blue sky, perfect puffy little white clouds like you see in story books, and the round yellow sun shining down peacefully on the green, green earth.

NOT.

Instead, it goes something like this:

The day sucks. The sky is cloudy and I keep running into bugs that get stuck in my every facial orifice. The clouds look like cotton candy that's been rotting under Gazzy's bed for a month. The sun, when it actually comes out from behind the clouds, is so bright it's gonna fry my eyeballs, I swear.

Being a bird kid has its down side.

I wiped the bajillionth dead insect from my cheek, spit out another one, and glanced behind me to make sure the flock was keeping up. "Everyone OK back there?" I hollered, struggling to make myself heard over the high wind.

Five pairs of eyes met mine. Iggy's blind, but somehow me manages to make perfect eye contact with me. Creepy.

Nudge was spitting out not bugs, but her own hair. "This wind is for the birds!" she complained, pumping her wings hard to avoid getting tossed around by the gusts.

"That was so cheesy." Fang said flatly. His own long dark hair was going nuts. I never want to see that boy in a wind tunnel.

"Speaking of cheesy--" Gazzy declared, an evil grin on his face.

"We are all aware that you cut the cheese, genius. I think you killed that hawk that was following us." I snorted, trying very hard to forget the horrible time I had actually smelled one of Gazzy's 'special' gastric emissions. And he wonders why I make him fly last in line...

We were flying in a V, like geese do. But we're not geese. No, we're mutant miracle children who had bird DNA grafted into us by mad scientists. 98% human, 2% bird. Yeah, we're kinda cute and angelic-looking, what with our wings and all, when we're not kicking the collective butt of evil. Evil can be classified under the following headings: Deranged scientists, egomaniac would-be world rulers, psychotic robo-ninjas, and et cetera.

I'm Maximum Ride, and my mission is to save the world. I love my job.

Max.

I winced, hating how that always caught me off guard. Hello, mysterious voice in my head. What divine revelations dost thou have for me today?

Yes, I have a voice in my head. What, you don't have one? You can get it at Wal-mart for fifty percent off on Fridays. Not. I have no idea whose voice mine is, or where I got it, but it's there. Like I don't have enough problems, I hear voices! If I ever see a shrink, I bet they'd spontaneously die after hearing the first thirty seconds of my issues.

I digress.

Be ready, Max. Your mission is to save the world. And something's about to happen. Something that will change everything you know.

Oh great.

I made a face and glanced back at the flock again. Angel was giving me an innocent smile, which meant she was probably thinking something horrendously evil; Iggy was eating a bug that had crashed into his mouth; Nudge was talking to Gazzy, who was red-faced trying to rip another fart; Fang had that bored I'm-in-another-dimension look. Everything seemed normal for the moment. But I of all people know that in the blink of an eye, normal can become a war zone.

Uh, Voice, could you fill me in on some details? Like whether we're fixing to get shot or stunned or attacked by flying monkey ninjas?

I swear I heard a grim chuckle. No, Max. Just be ready. It's coming, and you're about to find out why the world needs saving.

I rolled my eyes and clenched my fists as I adjusted my feathers to glide over the wind easier. My wings reach a span of fourteen feet; they're like hawk wings. Brown, black, tan and white. Purty.

Something reached my sensitive ears that wasn't the usual howling of the wind. I squinted and looked around, my raptor vision kicking in. Did I smell... jet fuel?
The last thing I wanted was to end up as hamburger meat in a jet turbine.

"Watch out, I think there's a jet close by." I shouted. I was right. Straight ahead was a fading line of smoke from jet engines. We diverted our course, dropping down to fly through a patch of ugly, lumpy cumuluses. Oops, make that cumuli.

"Eugh. Smells like burnt toast and barf bags." Gazzy said.

"Uh, in otherwords it smells like you?" Nudge shot at him.

"That doesn't smell like any jet fuel I've ever sniffed." Fang said, frowning. "It smells... different."

"Since when do you sniff jet fuel as a hobby?" Iggy queried.

"He's right. It is weird. Maybe it's one of those alternative fuels?" Nudge asked.

"I don't think they even make planes that run on anything else." I called back. "Be wary, guys. I have a bad feeling about..."

WHOOSH!

Suddenly we were all swept upward by a rush of air, and amid all the confusion, I caught a glimpse of the tail end of a jet shooting straight up past us. The heat from its thrusters caused my eyes to water and I started coughing from the acrid smell.

"Hey! That's an F-22 Raptor!" Gazzy exclaimed, pointing.

I stared as the angular, sleek plane circled overhead, then dipped down and headed straight for us.

"It's coming at us! Split up and fly like bats out of hell!" I screamed, proceeding to flap for my life.

We all went in different directions, attempting to avoid the Raptor. Then something totally unexpected happened.

Halfway to our position, the jet seemed to crack in half and start rearranging its parts, like a giant freaking metal oragami. It unfolded at a blurring speed till something bipedal, metallic and dang UG-LY hovered in mid-air, propelled by jets that were now like jet-packs. It reached out with one clawlike hand and snatched Angel, clutching her as if she was an action figure.

Oh. My. GOD.

This was certainly waaaaay more scary than wolf cyborgs, ninja geeks and flying Frankenpoodles.

And it had Angel. So, naturally, I had to kick its can. Get it? Metal robot thingy, can? Whatever...

I was about to zip forward and start karate-chopping, then it surprised me again. It spoke.

"What are you?" it demanded, its voice a harsh, screeching sound that made my hackles rise.

Let's hear it for the incredible talking flying robot creep!