Maximum Ride: The Final Warning by James Patterson

From the Publisher

Fourteen-year-old Maximum Ride and the other members of "Flock"--Fang, Iggy, Nudge, Gasman and Angel--are just like ordinary kids--only they have wings and can fly. It seems like a dream come true--except that they're still being hunted by new threats at every turn.

This time, the US government wants to keep the Flock under observation, offering a safe haven and schooling in return. But after their incredible adventures in books 1-3, Max and Flock have grown to love freedom- -after all, haven't grown-ups always found a way to ruin their lives? After escaping the control of the feds, they are surprised to find themselves allied with a group of environmental scientists who just might be trustworthy. Besides, what enemy could find them in one of the remotest locations on earth--Antarctica--on an expedition studying the effects of global warming up close?

There is one: The Uber-Director--literally, brains on a stick--an evil being who has developed mechanical soldiers far more frightening than Erasers. Their quest? To retrieve the Flock and sell them in a global auction for billions of dollars. Will the Uber-Director nab them before Max, Fang and the flock succumb to the dangers of the harsh Antarctic wilderness? Kids, parents and educators tuned into the issue of global warming will find this latest episode of the blockbuster Maximum Ride series not only a particularly riveting adventure beyond their wildest dreams, but also a motivating cautionary tale about a real-life peril that may affect theirown future.

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Product Details

• ISBN: 0316002860
  
• ISBN-13: 9780316002868
• Format: Hardcover, 272pp
• Publisher: Little, Brown & Company
• Pub. Date: March 2008
• Edition Number: 4
• Sales Rank: 1,009
• Series: Maximum Ride Series, #4

• Read a Sample Chapter

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Copyright © 2008 James Patterson
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-316-00286-8

1

Windsor State Forest, Massachusetts

Ssssss.

The soldiers' armor made an odd hissing noise. But besides the slight sound of metal plates sliding smoothly, flawlessly over one another, the troop was unnaturally quiet as it moved through the woods, getting closer to the prey.

The faintest of beeps caused the team leader to glance down at his wrist screen. Large red letters scrolled across it: ATTACK IN 12 SECONDS ... 11 ... 10 ...

The team leader tapped a button, and the screen's image changed: a tall, thin girl with dirt smears on her face and a tangle of brown hair, glaring out at him. TARGET 1 was superimposed on her face.

... 9 ... 8 ...

His wrist screen beeped again, and the image changed to that of a dark-haired, dark-eyed, scowling boy. TARGET 2.

And so on, the image changing every half second, ending finally with a portrait of a small, scruffy black dog looking at the camera in surprise.

The team leader didn't understand why Target 7 was an animal. He didn't need to understand. All he needed to know was that these targets were slated for capture.

... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

The leader emitted a whistle pitched so high that only his team members could hear it. Hemotioned toward the small run-down cabin they had surrounded in the woods.

Synchronized perfectly, as only machines can be, the eight team members shouldered eight portable rocket launchers and aimed them straight at the cabin. With a whoosh, eight large nets made of woven Kevlar strands shot out from the cannons and unfolded with geometric precision in midair, encasing the cabin almost entirely.

The team leader smiled in triumph.

2

"THE PREY HAVE BEEN CAPTURED, SIR," the team leader said in a monotone. Pride was not tolerated in this organization.

"Why do you say that?" the Uber-Director asked in a silky tone.

"The cabin has been secured."

"No. Not quite," said the Uber-Director, who was little more than a human head attached by means of an artificial spinal column to a series of Plexiglas boxes. The bioengine that controlled the airflow over his vocal cords allowed him to sigh, and he did. "The chimney. The skylight."

The team leader frowned. "The chimney would be impossible to climb," he said, accessing his internal encyclopedia. Photographs of the prey scrolled quickly across the team leader's screen. Suddenly an important detail caught his attention, and he froze.

In the corner of one of the photographs, a large feathered wing was visible. The team leader tracked it, zooming in on just that section of the image. The wing appeared to be attached to the prey.

The prey could fly.

He had left routes of escape open.

He had failed!

The Uber-Director closed his eyes, sending a thought signal to the nanoprocessors implanted in his brain. He opened his eyes in time to see the team leader and his troop vaporize with a crackling, sparking fizzle. All that was left of them was a nose-wrinkling odor of charred flesh and machine oil.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from The Final Warning by James Patterson Copyright © 2008 by James Patterson. Excerpted by permission.
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