The others swarmed Alex, who laughed, delighted.
“Come on, boys,” I said. “We need a fanged escort through the woods.” I clapped my hands once. “On guard.”
They folded around us, burying us in the pack as we stumbled toward town. Alex looped an arm over my neck so I could help her limp along. Bypassing the town square, we charted a course that kept us in the trees for as long as possible. If it weren’t for the dogs, we would’ve been in trouble hobbling through the dark woods, but they were amazing. At one point we heard shallow panting from the foliage to our left. Deja, Princess, and Tanner charged off. When Alex and I peered through the branches, we saw our former history teacher on her knees, being yanked to and fro like a rag doll.
These dogs were bred to hunt lions.
The thing that had been Mrs. Olsen didn’t stand a chance.
The dogs came back to us, their snouts bloodied, and we heard nothing more from beyond the branches.
We kept on peacefully for a time, making progress, Alex guarding her hurt leg. Halfway to town the dogs heard something we didn’t, and the whole pack shot off through the underbrush. There were snarling and ripping sounds, and a brief time later they emerged, ears perked, tails wagging. We never even saw the Hosts. The ridgies surrounded us again, their brown eyes flashing alertly, and picked up right where they’d left off.
But that only highlighted how vulnerable we felt when we reached the edge of the woods, halting before a row of unfenced backyards that signaled the start of the neighborhood around school. Though there were no visible Hosts, the sight of all that open ground before us made my stomach lurch.
Firming my grip around Alex, I stepped onto the Woodrows’ back lawn, veering past the barbecue by the side of the house. Then I noticed that the dogs were no longer with us. Hesitating back in the tree line, they whined. Some pack instinct must have told them to stick to the forest.
When we turned, we saw only their eyes glinting in the dark spaces between the trunks. Set by set, they pulled back, vanishing. One pair of eyes remained a little longer, floating there. I knew they were Cassius’s. Then those, too, drew back and were gone.
Suddenly the night seemed much lonelier.
Alex and I moved silently alongside the Woodrows’ house and up their long driveway. A few blocks ahead, the big shadowy block of the school loomed, barely visible in the first rays of dawn.
Home. Or at least as close a thing to it as we had left.
The streets looked empty, but even so we made our way carefully from hiding place to hiding place. Alex stumbled, slipping from my grip, holding her injured leg and wincing. She leaned against a pickup truck.
Nervously, I watched a seam of light nudge the horizon, the glow bringing the street into clearer view.
“C’mon, Alex. Just one more block.”
“Sorry. Gimme a hand.” Biting her lip, she grabbed around my neck and let me hoist her to her feet.
Looking past me, she gasped.
I glanced up.
Barely visible in the predawn glow, a wave of movement swept around the corner between us and the school.
ENTRY 39
I had no time to think.
Lifting Alex off her feet, I dumped her in the back of the pickup, then hoisted myself up and slid in next to her.
We lay curled into each other so our foreheads touched.
Her whisper was so quiet I could barely hear her. “What if they saw us already?”
“It’s still mostly dark.”
Dozens of feet rasped across pavement toward us.
“But what if they did?” she said.
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
Closer. Closer. Then I sensed shadows flicker past us on either side. The group of Hosts had split around the truck. If any one of them paused or looked to the side, they would see us there, holding our breath and hiding in the bed of the truck.
But they didn’t.
Being single-minded had its advantages.
But also its disadvantages.
Alex dipped her face into the hollow of my neck, and I held her, breathing the smell of her hair. The wave of Hosts kept coming and coming, split by the prow of the truck.
Finally the stream thinned, and a brief time later we heard nothing at all.
A spill of light came from the east, making the treetops glow.
“We should go,” Alex said.
“We need to wait, give them time to get a few blocks away,” I said. “We can’t lead them into the school.”
“Okay. Okay.”
I could feel her breath against my throat. Somehow our arms had wound up around each other.
“When I was four,” Alex said, “I got lost at Disney World. There were people everywhere. But I could only see their knees. And then, through the crowd, I saw my mom’s skirt. But I couldn’t get to her. People kept walking between us, and I’d lose her and lose her again. There were people all around, but I was so lost.” Her voice caught. “It was like that at the cannery. When they had us in cages, when they strapped me to that assembly line, I was surrounded by kids but completely alone. I might as well have been the only person left in the world.” She lifted her face to mine. “And then there was you.”
Her lips, so close. I thought about what might have been between us in some alternate universe where I was the older brother instead of Patrick.
I tore my gaze from her green, green eyes and looked at the lightening sky. “We should go before it gets too bright,” I said, and she nodded her agreement.
Cautiously, I eased to the sidewalk, checking the street, and then helped her out. Leaning on each other, we rushed toward the school. We reached the gate at the northeast corner, and I spun the combination lock, opening it. Then we ran for the building.
It wasn’t until we’d reached the shadows that I allowed myself a full exhale, seating the Stetson more firmly on my head. We kept close to the building until we got to the door by the picnic area. I gave a tap.
The lookouts, two of Ben Braaten’s crew, let us in.
“Man, you guys look like hell,” Mikey Durango said.
We ignored him, hustling through the halls, eager to see Patrick. Alex stopped leaning on me. As we neared the double doors, she straightened up until she was limping on her own two feet. She took my hand. Gave it a squeeze.
Then let go.
We burst through the doors.
Everyone looked sluggish, just stirring in the light of the new day. Dr. Chatterjee stood by the dry-erase board, writing down the latest unidentified particulate readings. The numbers hadn’t gone down, not at all.
JoJo and Rocky jumped up and waved at us. JoJo ran over and clung to Alex’s side. JoJo’s eyes moistened as she hugged Alex, her guilt melting away. Eve peered over the rows of cots at us, her arms crossed, wearing a half smile of relief. Atop the bleachers Ben stood lookout, the early rays catching in the scars on his face. He turned at our entrance, his features falling back into shadow, conveying a quiet menace.
My eyes swept the gym for Patrick.
Chatterjee looked up and saw us. “Chance! Alex! You did it!” His initial expression of delight was quickly replaced by regret. “You just missed Patrick.”
All the air whooshed out of me, leaving me deflated. I’d never felt so tired in my life.
“What do you mean we missed him?” Alex said.
“The extra oxygen tanks you got, turns out they were empty,” Dr. Chatterjee said. “Only the portable one you refilled at the hospital was good.”
“No,” I said. “I checked them. They were all in the green.”
Rushing over to the stack of H tanks, I looked at the meters. Every needle was pegged in the red. The valves had been loosened ever so slightly. A drumroll of fury started up in my gut.