“This ain’t no time for kid games,” Ben said. “We got bigger concerns right now.”
Dr. Chatterjee rose, facing up at Ben. “What does that accomplish? It’s cruel, yes, with the added advantage of being foolish. The younger kids are quiet when they play.”
“The time for playing is over,” Ben said. “We should be training these kids to kill Hosts.”
“That is not what we’re going to do.”
“And why not? You can’t defend us. Not as a cripple. Who’s to say I don’t just take over and run things the way they need to be run? That’s the problem with your vote earlier. You say you’re the leader. But you got no way to enforce it.”
“I’ll enforce it,” Patrick said.
Ben looked over at him and gave a thoughtful nod. “For four more days, maybe.”
“Ben,” Chatterjee said. “Come down here right now.”
Ben looked at him. Then folded his arms. “Or what?” he asked.
Chatterjee had no reply.
“That’s the problem,” Ben said. “You can’t enforce anything. You have no authority. There’s a new order we have to recognize, Dr. Chatterjee. The old rules don’t apply. If I decide not to play along, who’s gonna do anything about it?”
A tense silence settled over the gym.
Alex stood first.
Then I did, too. Eve was next.
Others starting rising, one after another, until about two-thirds of the kids were on their feet. The rest sat glaring up at us, making clear they were Ben’s allies.
“Okay.” Ben gave a nod and started down from the bleachers. He stared at those of us standing against him. “But you should realize, guys. It’s only a matter of time.” His footsteps padded across the court, and then he took up his usual post by the double doors.
JoJo was still crying, so I climbed up to her. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll get it back for you.”
“When?”
I peered past her through the window. Her Frisbee stood out, a fluorescent green dot in the middle of the street across from the school’s front lawn. In the driveway just beyond, a Chaser crouched on her haunches atop a Volvo, facing away.
“Later,” I answered.
From below, Alex said, “What are the readings?”
It took a moment for Dr. Chatterjee to catch her meaning, and then he raised the carbon monoxide detector to the dim light. He shook his head. “It’s gotten worse. There are more of the unknown particulates in the air than before.”
I looked over at Patrick and saw him swallow. Alex reached across and gripped his hand.
Chatterjee said, “I’d hoped that there would be a period where the air was fertile—infected, that is—and then it would pass. But no. It seems that the air composition itself has been altered.”
“Maybe it’s permanent,” Rocky piped up from the back. “Like when a supervolcano erupts and changes the air for like a million years.”
“One great Dusting,” Chatterjee said.
A strangled sound rose out of the bleachers. “I’m dead, then.” Chet lowered himself to one of the benches and let his face droop into his hands. His voice came out muffled through his fingers. “I’m dead.” His shoulders shook, but aside from a few wet gasps he was silent.
No one knew what to say.
Ben finally spoke up. “You’re right. We gotta call it like it is. Come tomorrow, it’s over for you.”
“Do you remember what time you were born?” Dezi Siegler asked.
Chet lifted his face, smeared with tears. “A minute after noon. Since I was so … big, the delivery took a long time. My mom used to joke that my birth was a high-noon showdown.”
“So you have till midday tomorrow,” Ben said. “Then I’ll put you down. I’m sorry, Chet, but it’s gotta be done.”
Chet looked around from kid to kid, appealing for some kind of help, but there was none to give. I’d never felt so helpless in my life. And that wasn’t even the worst part. Scratching at the back of my skull was an even more terrifying thought: Four more days till we’ll have to do the same to Patrick.
Dr. Chatterjee made his unsteady way to Chet and sat beside him. Chet tilted into him, sobbing into his shoulder. “I’m sorry, son,” Chatterjee said. “I’m sorry I can’t protect you. If there was any way it could be me instead of you, I would make that trade.”
Chet cried for a long time. When he started to wheeze, Dr. Chatterjee told him to slow his breathing down, to take deep, measured inhales. Finally Chet looked up.
“Is there anything you want?” Patrick said. “For tonight? Tomorrow morning?”
“Like a last meal?” Chet’s laugh turned into a stifled sob. “No. I think I just want to look at the view, maybe. Breathe some fresh air.”
Patrick nodded. “How ’bout the roof? You could go up there.”
Chet rose and made his way down the bleachers, pausing on his sturdy legs. “Will you come with me, Patrick?”
“Of course I will.”