When the Wind Blows - James Patterson [76]
She turned to Frannie, fear in her eyes. Prepared for the worst. Then she laughed. It was only Kit and Pip. What a relief. She could breathe again. She felt like they should all be together for whatever was going to happen next.
“We got in farther down the fence,” Kit said between gasps.
Max didn’t know what to think. Right now she didn’t care. “Kit, Frannie,” she said. “Look here. This is important. Please. It’s why I came back.”
Max opened the door to the Nursery, and she screamed.
Chapter 80
I JUMPED BACK.
What I saw inside the door made me want to scream, too, and strange as it may seem, to thank God at the same time.
There were four little ones lying in soiled blankets inside cages in the Nursery. The small children were alive and each one had wings.
“Peter, Ic, Wendy!” Max shrieked, as she ran to them. “Oz!”
“Oh poor Petey. Wendy!” she shrieked as she opened the cage that held two of the little ones. Peter and Wendy were entwined, hunched in the far corner, blinking against the sudden intrusion of light.
“Come to me,” Max called to them softly. “Come to Max.” The sounds they made together were barely audible, but loving, a little like bird songs.
Max went to the next cage. She opened the doors. A little boy came crouching forward, then staggered out of the terrible cage. “Ic!” she said. “Icarus!”
“I brought help,” she told him.
“Where’s Matthew?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Let’s not talk about it now. How are you? You okay?”
“Cool as a ghoul,” said Ic. Finally, he smiled. Amazing.
The little ones fell over one another trying to reach Max. Once they found her, they clung to her. They whispered parched greetings, uttered sharp, high-pitched cries. And then in a burst of relief all the bird-children began to cry.
They cried as one.
As I helped Max free the children from their cages, I was overcome with the shakes. The children were so beautiful, so exquisite in every way. It was like finding priceless treasure in the least expected place. Each of them was a miracle.
I controlled my own nerves and astonishment long enough to evaluate the kids; they were malnourished and dehydrated, but that seemed to be all. It wasn’t too bad, though it would have been soon. I ran to the sink and got them some water, they had been locked in here to die like the others. Four beautiful little kids, left to die in cages.
My eyes fell on a little boy who looked to be about seven. He had a stocky build, most of his bulk was in his upper body. His wings were feathered dark brown and pinfeathers of the same color covered his neck and shoulders, merging at the hairline with glossy chestnut-brown hair.
The boy’s skin was damp, and his face was livid from crying. But his huge round eyes were bright and unafraid.
“I’m Ozymandias,” he said, with a belligerent thrust to his chin. “Who the heck are you? Are you a scientist? A stinking doctor?”
“I’m Frannie,” I told him, “and this is my friend, Kit. We came here with Max.”
“They’re friends, Oz,” Max said. “Hard as it might be to believe.”
“Hello, Oz. Ozymandias.” Kit offered his hand to the little boy who, after a slight hesitation, shook it.
Max pushed the little girl forward. She was a rosy-cheeked cherub of four or so, with black, bowl-cut hair and almond-shaped eyes. The girl was wearing a sleeveless smock like the one Max had worn the first time I saw her. She stretched out her wings toward me. They were white, tipped with blue. Beautiful.
Her wing feathers made a swishing sound, like a taffeta skirt swirling around a dancer’s legs.
“Mama?” she said, in the most heartbreaking way.
“She calls all older women ‘Mama,’ ” Max explained. “She never had one. None of us did.”
My heart leaped toward the little girl. Tears came to my eyes again. I would never be able to explain to anyone what I felt at this moment.
“She’s Wendy. This is Frannie.” Max made polite, almost formal introductions.
Then Wendy spoke in a soft, squeaky voice. “You should see my twin!”
She pointed to her brother, Peter, who was a nearly perfect