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I managed a tight smile, and then we were all climbing out of the Hummer and walking across hot tarmac to the jet.
A quick, happy bark made my head snap up. There, at the top of the jet stairs, was Akila!
"Oh. My. God," Total breathed, stopping dead. He stared up at her as if he were a starving man and she was a Snickers bar. He shook his head. "I know it's daylight, because the sun has started to shine again!" He inhaled deeply. "And the air—the air is suddenly perfumed with—"
"Jet fuel, hot tar, dirty bird kids, and a Malamute," I said, nudging him forward with my foot. "Just get on the plane." Not everything has to be a Broadway show, you know?
Total shot me an aggrieved glance as he trotted up the jet's stairs. At the top, he and Akila happily licked each other's faces, their tails wagging. It was—well, actually, I hate to admit—it was kind of sweet. In a slobbery kind of way.
We were all waiting for Total and Akila to move inside when Total stepped back and, with a flourish, opened his small black wings. Akila blinked. And if a Malamute can look surprised, she looked it.
"Regard, my princess!" said Total, fluttering his wings. "At last, I might be worthy of your beauty!" He knelt before her and kissed one of her front paws. She licked the top of his head. I glanced around, and everyone was grinning.
Oh yeah. Love is great, just great.
28
THE MAN IN the crisp whites saw us as soon as he came in the door. We were in some building smack-dab in the middle of the biggest naval base on the West Coast. Frankly, I'd rather be at the San Diego Zoo, but at least this place was air-conditioned.
We were in a conference room, ready to meet with some grown-ups, and I was thinking that I had already played in this scenario more times than I could count. Who remembers any of those situations ending well? Go on, raise your hand. No one?
Right.
However, using insidious and irresistible mind-control techniques such as offering us Mountain Dew and a ton of nachos, the naval bigwigs had managed to corral us in this room for a debriefing.
Unfortunately, every time someone said "debriefing," the entire flock had one image: someone's tighty-whities disappearing in a flash. We were smothering our giggles, but it was getting harder. Coupled with the whole "naval this, and naval that," with its undeniable belly-button connotations, we were essentially turning into a sugar-jacked, sleep-deprived flock of incoherent, silly, recombinant-DNA goofballs. This was not going to end well.
This guy had come in, and everyone turned to him as if now the party could get started. Tucking a sheaf of papers under one arm, he frowned and looked at the woman in the blazer with all the stars on the shoulders. We'd met her. She was Admiral Bellows. (I am not making this up.)
"Why are these children here?" he asked brusquely.
"Thank you for joining us, Commander," said Admiral Bellows. She had short, tidy gray hair and seemed extremely no-nonsense. "These children are integral to our investigation. For one thing, this child, Max, is Dr. Martinez's daughter."
Huh. She'd called me a child, not a mutant freak. And I was a daughter, not just the result of one of Dr. Martinez's eggs being fertilized in a test tube. It felt weirdly—normal.
"All the more reason this conference is inappropriate for children," the commander said pointedly.
"We're very sensitive, you know," said Iggy.
The admiral shot Iggy a sharp glance, which of course was wasted on him. "These children are different," she told the commander. "Please come in and share your findings, Commander. Time is of the essence."
I decided I kind of liked her.
The commander paused as if trying to think of a new way to win the argument but was distracted when Total put both front paws on the conference table.
"Excuse me," he said, using one paw to brush a nacho crumb from his muzzle. "You think you could scrounge up some pico de gallo? Maybe even some guac? And how about a nice cold Evian for my lady friend here?" He gestured to where Akila was sitting with quiet dignity by Dr. Abate.
The flock managed to remain straight-faced.
"It's okay, Commander," I said in the deafening silence. "Like the admiral said, we're different." I shrugged out of my hoodie and extended my wings, all thirteen feet of brown glory. They are stunning, I must say. Even with the still-slightly-visible boo-boo on one.
Everyone in the room except John and Brigid were mesmerized. The commander's mouth actually dropped open a bit, and I ruffled my primary feathers a little. "So how 'bout we just get on with the show, eh? We're talking about my mom here."
Between the talking dog and the girl with wings, the commander was pretty much a squashed bug. Wordlessly he gave a DVD to a navy guy working the computer, and the lights were dimmed. A PowerPoint presentation began on the white wall opposite the table.
The first slide said: THE BIRDS ARE WORKING.
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