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The Angel Experiment : Maximum Ride Series : Book 1 - James Patterson

The Angel Experiment

Maximum Ride Series : Book 1

Paperback

Published: 1st May 2006
For Ages: 11 - 15 years old
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From Death Valley, California, to the bowels of the New York City subway system, 14-year-old Max leads her feisty "family" on a journey of action, adventure, and soul-seeking in this #1 "New York Times" bestselling series debut.

WELCOME TO MY NIGHTMARE.

Do not put this book down. I'm dead serious - your life could depend on it. I'm risking everything by telling you - but you need to know.

STRAP YOURSELF IN for the thrill ride you'll want to take again and again! From Death Valley, California, to the bowels of the New York City subway system, you're about to take off on a heart-stopping adventure that will blow you away...

YOUR FAITHFUL COMPANIONS: Max, Fang, Iggy, Nudge, the Gasman, and Angel. Six kids who are pretty normal in most ways - except that they're 98 percent human, 2 percent bird. They grew up in a lab, living like rats in cages, but now they're free. Aside, of course, from the fact that they're prime prey for Erasers - wicked wolflike creatures with a taste for flying humans.

THE MISSIONS: Rescue Angel from malicious mutants. Infiltrate a secret facility to track down the flock's missing parents. Scavenge for sustenance. Get revenge on an evil traitor. And save the world. If there's time.

Thriller-writing sensation James Patterson, author of the #1 New York Times bestseller When the Wind Blows, invites you on a quest full of nonstop action, adrenaline, mystery, and suspense. Want to come along for the ride?

About The Author

JAMES PATTERSON is one of the best-known and biggest-selling writers of all time. He is the author of some of the most popular series of the past decade - the Alex Cross, Women's Murder Club and Detective Michael Bennett novels - and he has written many other number one bestsellers including romance novels and stand-alone thrillers. He lives in Florida with his wife and son. James is passionate about encouraging children to read. Inspired by his own son who was a reluctant reader, he also writes a range of books specifically for young readers. James has formed a partnership with the National Literacy Trust, an independent, UK-based charity that changes lives through literacy.

REVIEW SNAPSHOT®

by PowerReviews
The Angel Experiment
 
4.5

(based on 2 reviews)

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5.0

just great, i've read it over and over..

By euws rules

from brandy hill, nsw, australia

About Me Bookworm

Pros

  • Deserves Multiple Readings
  • Easy To Understand
  • Informative
  • Inspirational
  • Relevant
  • Well Written

Cons

    Best Uses

    • Older Readers
    • Younger Readers

    Comments about The Angel Experiment:

    read it over and over

    Comment on this review

     
    4.0

    Just loved it!

    By Brewhaha

    from Sydney

    About Me Everyday Reader

    Verified Buyer

    Pros

    • Easy To Understand
    • Exciting
    • Well Written

    Cons

      Best Uses

      • Gift
      • Younger Readers

      Comments about The Angel Experiment:

      I loved this book and immediately got hold of the next installment. It is easy to read and I got so involved with the characters from the start. You really care about what happens to them. It was unpredictable and exciting and I loved it.I am an older aged female who loves this genre.

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      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 backpedaling 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.



      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 few 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.'

      ISBN: 9780446617796
      ISBN-10: 0446617792
      Series: Maximum Ride
      Audience: Children
      For Ages: 11 - 15 years old
      For Grades: 6 - 10
      Format: Paperback
      Language: English
      Number Of Pages: 440
      Published: 1st May 2006
      Dimensions (cm): 17.37 x 10.82  x 2.59
      Weight (kg): 0.24