Hi guys. Been a while, I know. I honestly forgot about this website. When I logged back in a few days ago, all my 30+ documents had expired. I'm going to take that as a message to start fresh.

So this is Blink. Short story, takes place between MAX and FANG. I hope you like it.

T-MINUS 15 DAYS

I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me.

I haven't even told anyone. How would you slip that into the conversation? Hey Iggy, nice shirt! By the way, I'm going to die in fifteen days.

Knowing the Flock, they'd freak the fuck out. Probably tear apart the corners of the world looking for a cure for a disease that I don't have, or an off switch for a kill button they have no way of knowing exists.

My expiration date was bound to show up eventually. Burned the back of my neck so bad I almost thought I had fallen asleep on the kitchen stove instead of my bed.

If I'm being honest, I'm relieved I'm the first one to go. At least this way I won't have to see anyone else die. It sounds cowardly and hideous, but I'd honestly rather keel over first than have to endure anyone else doing it. I'll admit, there was some crying that was done in the secrecy of my room, with the resultant red eyes being blamed on seasonal "allergies". I don't know if I've fooled anyone, but I only need to keep this up for fifteen more days.

And Angel? Yes, I was worried that she would be able to read my mind and broadcast my thoughts to everyone. But a great side effect of dying is being able to put up mental blocks. I discovered this new power about a day before my expiration date showed up. Mental blocks that keep my deep thoughts securely under lock and key, leaving only the innocuous ones (like the thoughts about how Fang's ass looks great in dark jeans... okay, maybe not so innocuous) for her to pilfer.

Don't scoff at me for looking at Fang's ass. I might be dying, but I'm not dead.

I haven't thought about how I'm going to say goodbye to anyone yet. But here's the great thing- I don't have to.

Because I've got a plan. A plan that's really fucking stupid, when I think about it, so I've resolved not to think about it too much.

And that plan is why I'm here in the middle of the night, here in this abandoned trailer park. Only a couple hours south of where the Flock was staying. I couldn't believe she lived here, but this is where I traced the IP address to. Because of course I found her online, and of course she was one of the first followers of Fang's blog. I was kind of mad he didn't tell me she was following him, but then I don't tell him about a lot of stuff (like the jeans thing).

Trailer number 15. She's got one of those cute Chia plants on her doorstep. I nearly knock it over as I give the weathered door a few hard raps with my knuckle.

I wait, slightly shivering in the cold, wishing I had put on a windbreaker or something. How ironic would it be if I died of a cold right about now?

I hear footsteps inside of the dusty trailer. So she's in there. She's just not coming out. How inconsiderate. She has a reason to be scared of me- last time we met, I almost ripped her throat out. I didn't because I'm not a killer, but I bet every girl says that.

Undeterred, I knock on the door again. I keep knocking until it feels like most of the skin on my knuckles has chafed off, and I'm still knocking when the door opens.

I smile brightly at the scowl on her face. "Hi!"

"How did you find me?" She's clutching a metal poker in her hands, and I'm pretty sure it's not because she was tending a fire just seconds ago.

"Fang's blog. And some hacking."

Her knuckles, which were white with anticipation, relax slightly and she lowers the poker about an inch. "Is anyone else with you?"

I shake my head. "No, this is a solo courtesy call."

"I thought you were an Eraser. Or a Flybot."

"Flyboy," I correct her, sidestepping the poker and entering her tiny trailer. I look around at the tiny sofa, the rabbit-ears TV, and the colorful throw rug, all covered in a thick layer of dust. "So you're hiding, huh?"

She frowns at me and closes the front door. "They want to kill me as much as they wanted to kill you now."

"Who'd you steal this little hideout off of?"

"Owners died in a car accident."

"That's dark," I say, blowing the dust off of a World's Greatest Dad mug.

"Not everyone has access to safe houses and all that bullshit," she shoots back. "Why are you here?"

I lean against the tiny table. "I need your help."

"Last time I saw you, you tried to kill me."

"Because you impersonated me and tried to turn my Flock against me," I shoot back.

She rolls her eyes. "I was trained to do that since my conception. And your little mind reader friend caught on to me in a second." She sets the twisted poker down on the table. "Why would you need my help?"

I watch her eyes, so similar to mine. Same scars, same mouth, same hairline, same slightly crooked tooth. It's like looking in a mirror, down to the small freckles I have on my cheeks.

"I need you to be me again. Permanently."