“It was really more of a staycation,” Gazzy mused.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Jeb said, “but we really need to talk to you, all of you, but especially Max.”

“This oughta be good,” I said. “Let me guess. We’re needed for a research mission at the coldest place on earth?”

“No,” said Jeb. “This is bigger than you, bigger than all of us. I need you to open your mind and listen.”

“Last time I opened my mind, you injected hallucinations into it,” I pointed out. I hardly ever forgive, and I never forget. “Is it… a crazed megalomaniac who has a secret underwater lair where pollution is creating huge, mutant sea monsters?”

“No,” said Jeb, looking irritated.

“Yeah, because how likely is that?” I scoffed. “That would never happen! It’s crazy!”

“Just hear me out. An evolutionary revolution is happening all over the world.”

“Which means what exactly?” I asked.

“Worldwide, a new generation of children with supernatural powers has appeared,” Dr. Hans said.

“So far, you’re not riveting my attention,” I said.

“You know that there are labs and schools all over the world that are trying to speed up the human evolutionary process,” Jeb said.

“I do now,” I said.

“Dedicated men and women of science are trying to find a way to save the human race. And they’ve been successful. Overwhelmingly successful, for the first time.”

I got a prickle on the back of my neck. The flock and I had been created in just such a lab, a nightmarish place called the School, where another way to say “dedicated men and women of science” was “power-hungry mad scientists with Frankenstein complexes.”

“You know that, historically, you’ve been among the most successful of the recombinant-DNA life-forms,” Jeb said. “You were the fifty-fourth generation of DNA experiments.”

Some kids get called “bundles of joy” or “slices of heaven” or “dreams come true.” We got “the fifty-fourth generation of DNA experiments.” Doesn’t have the same warm and fuzzy feel. But maybe I’m oversensitive.

“The Erasers were the seventeenth,” Jeb said, and we all flinched involuntarily. (If you want to delve more deeply into the wild ’n’ wacky world of human-wolf hybrids, check out the earlier Max chronicles.)

“Not that I’m not enjoying this little jaunt down memory lane,” I said curtly, “but you’re not making a lot of headway here. In fact, so far you’re just annoying the heck out of me and making me remember all the reasons I never want to talk to you again.”

Jeb glanced at Dr. Hans and then at my mom. She made a face that said, “Way to go, bucko,” and he cleared his throat.

“My point is that you guys were successful,” he said. “I’m sure you remember all the versions that weren’t successful.”

“I’ll have their catastrophic images burned into my brain till I die,” I said. “Are we done here?”