“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve already got more clothes here than I do.”
Nora blinked a few times. “Is that your idea of a proposal?”
“No,” he said. “This is my idea of one.”
He reached into the pocket of his shorts and removed a small box, Tiffany blue. Dropping to one knee, Connor placed it in her hand. “Nora Sinclair, you make me incredibly happy. I can’t believe that I found you. Will you marry me?”
With a completely stunned look on her face, Nora opened the box to see an enormous diamond. Tears welled in her green eyes.
“Yes, yes, yes! Yippee-yes!” she cried out. “I’ll marry you, Connor Brown! I love you so much.”
Pop! went the champagne. He’d chilled a Dom Perignon ’85 in anticipation. He’d also bought a bottle of Jack Daniels for himself, just in case Nora said no.
With two glasses poured, Connor raised his high and made a toast. “To happily ever after,” he said.
“To happily ever after,” echoed Nora. “To yippee-yes!”
They clinked, they sipped, they held hands. Madly in love and giddy with excitement, they hugged and kissed.
Soon, though, the celebration was interrupted by a horn in the driveway. Nora’s car service had arrived.
Moments later, as the limousine started to drive away, Nora called to Connor out the open back window. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world!”
MAXIMUM RIDE
Prologue
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, by the sickest, most horrible “scientists” you could possibly 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.
Part One: Flock Fright
Chapter 1
THE FUNNY THING about facing imminent death is that it really snaps everything else into perspective. Take right now, for instance.
Run! Come on, run! You know you can do it.
I gulped deep lungfuls of air. My brain was on hyperdrive; I was racing for my life. My one goal was to escape. Nothing else mattered.
My arms being scratched to ribbons by a briar I’d run through? No biggie.
My bare feet hitting every sharp rock, rough root, pointed stick? Not a problem.
My lungs aching for air? I could deal.
As long as I could put as much distance as possible between me and the Erasers.
Yeah, Erasers. Mutants: half-men, half-wolves, usually armed, always bloodthirsty. Right now they were after me.
See? That snaps everything into perspective.
Run. You’re faster than they are. You can outrun anyone.
I’d never been this far from the School before. I was totally lost. Still, my arms pumped by my sides, my feet crashed through the underbrush, my eyes scanned ahead anxiously through the half-light. I could outrun them. I could find a clearing with enough space for me to—
Oh, no. Oh, no. The unearthly baying of bloodhounds on the scent wailed through the trees, and I felt sick. I could outrun men—all of us could, even Angel, and she’s only six. But none of us could outrun a big dog.
Dogs, dogs, go away, let me live another day.
They were getting closer. Dim light filtered in through the woods in front of me—a clearing? Please, please… a clearing could save me.
I burst through the trees, chest heaving, a thin sheen of cold sweat on my skin.
Yes!
No—oh no!
I skidded to a halt, my arms waving, my feet back-pedaling in the rocky dirt.
It wasn’t a clearing. In front of me was a cliff, a sheer face of rock that dropped to an unseeable floor hundreds of feet below.
In back of me were woods filled with drooling bloodhounds and psycho Erasers with guns.
Both options stank.
The dogs were yelping excitedly—they’d found their prey: moi.
I looked over the deadly drop.
There was no choice, really. If you were me, you’d have done the same thing.
I closed my eyes, held out my arms… and let myself fall over the edge of the cliff.
The Erasers screamed angrily, the dogs barked hysterically, and then all I could hear was the sound of air rushing past me.
It was so dang peaceful, for a second. I smiled.
Then, taking a deep breath, I unfurled my wings as hard and fast as I could.
Thirteen feet across, pale tan with white streaks and some freckly looking brown spots, they caught the air, and I was suddenly yanked upward, hard, as if a parachute had just opened. Yow!
Note to self: No sudden unfurling.
Wincing, I pushed downward with all my strength, then pulled my wings up, then pushed downward again.
Oh, my god, I was flying—just like I’d always dreamed.
The cliff floor, draped in shadow, receded beneath me. I laughed and surged upward, feeling the pull of my muscles, the air whistling through my secondary feathers, the breeze drying the sweat on my face.
I soared up past the cliff edge, past the startled hounds and the furious Erasers.
One of them, hairy-faced, fangs dripping, raised his gun. A red dot of light appeared on my torn nightgown. Not today, you jerk, I thought, veering sharply west so the sun would be in his hate-crazed eyes.
I’m not going to die today.
Chapter 2
I JOLTED UPRIGHT in bed, gasping, my hand over my heart.
I couldn’t help checking my nightgown. No red laser dot. No bullet holes. I fell back on my bed, limp with relief.
Geez, I hated that dream. It was always the same: running away from the School, being chased by Erasers and dogs, me falling off a cliff, then suddenly whoosh, wings, flying, escaping. I always woke up feeling a second away from death.
Note to self: Give subconscious a pep talk re: better dreams.
It was chilly, but I forced myself out of my cozy bed. I threw on clean sweats—amazingly, Nudge had put the laundry away.
Everyone else was still asleep: I could have a fe
w minutes of peace and quiet, get a jump on the day.
I glanced out the hall windows on the way to the kitchen. I loved this view: the morning sunlight breaking over the crest of the mountains, the clear sky, the deep shadows, the fact that I could see no sign of any other people.
We were high on a mountain, safe, just me and my family.
Our house was shaped like a letter E turned on its side. The bars of the E were cantilevered on stilts out over a steep canyon, so if I looked out a window, I felt like I was floating. On a “cool” scale from one to ten, this house was an easy fifteen.
Here, my family and I could be ourselves. Here, we could live free. I mean literally free, as in, not in cages.
Long story. More on that later.
And of course here’s the best part: no grown-ups. When we first moved here, Jeb Batchelder had taken care of us, like a dad. He’d saved us. None of us had parents, but Jeb had come as close as possible.
Two years ago, he’d disappeared. I knew he was dead, we all did, but we didn’t talk about it. Now we were on our own.
Yep, no one telling us what to do, what to eat, when to go to bed. Well, except me. I’m the oldest, so I try to keep things running as best I can. It’s a hard, thankless job, but someone has to do it.
We don’t go to school, either, so thank God for the Internet, because otherwise we wouldn’t know nothin’. But no schools, no doctors, no social workers knocking on our door. It’s simple: If no one knows about us, we stay alive.
I was rustling around for food in the kitchen when I heard sleepy shuffling behind me.
“Mornin’, Max.”
Contents
Front Cover Image
Welcome
Dedication
A Preview of Honeymoon
A Preview of Maximum Ride
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Part Two
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Part Three
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Part Four
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Part Five
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
About the Authors
The novels of James Patterson
Great Acclaim for James Patterson’s
Copyright
About the Authors
JAMES PATTERSON is one of the best-known and bestselling writers of all time. He is the author of the two top-selling new detective series of the past decade: the Alex Cross novels, including Cross; Mary, Mary; Kiss the Girls; and Along Came a Spider, and the Women’s Murder Club series, including 1st to Die, 2nd Chance, 3rd Degree, 4th of July, and The 5th Horseman. He has written many other #1 bestsellers, including Suzanne’s Diary for Nicholas, Lifeguard, Honeymoon, and Beach Road. He lives in Florida.
ANDREW GROSS worked with James Patterson on Lifeguard. He lives with his wife and three children in New York.
The novels of James Patterson
FEATURING ALEX CROSS
Double Cross
Cross
Mary, Mary
London Bridges
The Big Bad Wolf
Four Blind Mice
Violets Are Blue
Roses Are Red
Pop Goes the Weasel
Cat & Mouse
Jack & Jill
Kiss the Girls
Along Came a Spider
THE WOMEN’S MURDER CLUB
7th Heaven (and Maxine Paetro)
The 6th Target (and Maxine Paetro)
The 5th Horseman (and Maxine Paetro)
4th of July (and Maxine Paetro)
3rd Degree (and Andrew Gross)
2nd Chance (and Andrew Gross)
1st to Die
OTHER BOOKS
You’ve Been Warned (and Howard Roughan)
The Quickie (and Michael Ledwidge)
Maximum Ride: Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports
Step on a Crack (and Michael Ledwidge)
Judge & Jury (and Andrew Gross)
Maximum Ride: School’s Out—Forever
Beach Road (and Peter de Jonge)
Lifeguard (and Andrew Gross)
Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment
Honeymoon (and Howard Roughan)
santaKid
Sam’s Letters to Jennifer
The Lake House
The Jester (and Andrew Gross)
The Beach House (and Peter de Jonge)
Suzanne’s Diary for Nicholas
Cradle and All
Black Friday
When the Wind Blows
See How They Run
Miracle on the 17th Green (and Peter de Jonge)
Hide & Seek
The Midnight Club
Season of the Machete
The Thomas Berryman Number
For previews of upcoming James Patterson novels and information about the author, visit www.jamespatterson.com.
GREAT ACCLAIM FOR JAMES PATTERSON’S
#1 BESTSELLER 3RD DEGREE
“Incredible… chilling… The suspense is never ending and the plot is to die for!”
—Myshelf.com
“A pulse-pounding race against time… Suspense is never in short supply.”
�
��TheBestReviews.com
“There is no way one can put down 3RD DEGREE once it has been started.”
—Bookreporter.com
“Fans of Patterson will gobble up this installment, and newcomers will become instant converts.”
—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
“The latest Women’s Murder Club thriller is an action-packed tale that never lets up until the final moment.”
—Blether.com
“Women’s Murder Club fans will be thrilled by 3RD DEGREE and look forward to the next episode with eager anticipation.”
—Bookloons.com
“It was with great excitement that I began to read 3RD DEGREE, and it was just fantastic.”
—NewMysteryReader.com
“I thoroughly enjoyed this novel [and] read it in one sitting.”
—MostlyFiction.com
“A timely plot which is peopled with likable heroes and boo-able villains… If you like the Alex Cross books then you will relish this series of stories as well.”
—JackieKCooper.com
“3RD DEGREE is as much a page-turner as its predecessors.”
—TheBookhaven.net
READERS LOVE JAMES PATTERSON’S 3RD DEGREE
“About a year ago, I was introduced to a new adventure—and that was reading anything that James Patterson wrote!… Mr. Patterson has got to be an absolute genius when it comes to having a plot that is so intriguing that you can’t put the book down. I can’t wait for the next book! Thank you, Mr. Patterson, for many wonderful hours of enjoyment.”
—A.M.D. (Alexandria, VA)
“3RD DEGREE was all go from the opening pages. I could barely put it down. When one of their own is killed, I felt like I’d lost a friend myself, and was as heartbroken as the others. This book is a real page-turner, and James Patterson just keeps getting better. Bring on the next one!!!”