Erasers were chasing him.
Wait, no. It was just one. One Eraser was chasing him.
Here, piggy, piggy. Fangs stomach lurched. Ari. That son of a gun. He pushed faster, lungs burning. Come one, dont you want to play, piggy? Fang could hear the grin in Aris voice.
Light filtered dimly through the trees ahead. A clearing. A clearing would save him.
He dared a glance back. His stomach dropped as Ari pulled out a gun.
And shot it.
Fang jackknifed to a sitting position, heart hammering. Just a dream, he reminded himself. Just a sick, twisted dream. Right. He got up and stretched. Sleeping in a chair, not so good of an idea. But still, better than a subway tunnel.
Fang wrinkled his nose. He hated hospitals. Especially the way they smelled. It made his skin crawl. But they were stuck here until Max got better.
He sighed. Max.
He glanced down at her. Or, he would have been glancing down at her, because the bed was empty.