“We’ll figure it out,” I told him. “And I won’t … I won’t let myself get exposed to the chemicals in the air again. I promise.”

“But, Dean, if you can’t go outside, how are we going to find Mom and Dad? How will we go home?”

I could have lied. But Alex was smarter than me.

“I don’t know,” I said.

* * *

After I got him cleaned up we walked back together toward the others. He had forgiven me, but he was still kind of stiff with me. Wary, I guess. Or maybe he was just physically sore from the beating I had given him.

As we approached the Pizza Shack we heard: “I did too go to Emerald’s!” from Max.

There was this big disconnect between what the big kids were dealing with and what the little kids were thinking about. For example, while I was patching up my brother after having tried to rip him apart due to a chemical compound–induced mania, Max, Batiste, Ulysses, and Chloe were discussing Emerald’s, a strip club located near an off-ramp at the outskirts of town.

“He’s lying. You never went to Emerald’s. They don’t let little kids in there,” Chloe protested.

“They do if your uncle’s the bouncer!” Max countered.

“What do they do in there, anyway?” Batiste wanted to know. “Our church is always trying to get those sinners to repent. But I don’t even know what kind of sinning they’re doing.”

“Probably cursing,” offered Chloe.

“Tons of that!” said Max.

“That’s a sin.” Batiste sighed.

“And drinking liquor?” Chloe asked.

“Totally,” said Max. “They have these little glasses in all kinds of flavors like watermelon and peach passion and hot apple. But they taste horrible. Sweet and horrible. I had three of them one time and then I puked them all up, right on the bar, and my mom said if my uncle ever takes me there again, she’s gonna call the cops.”

“Drinking is a sin,” said Batiste.

“Wow,” Chloe murmured.

“I don’t want to go back, anyways,” Max continued. “Boring. Just a bunch of moms dancing around in their string underwear. Big whoop.”

I stifled a laugh.

“What?” Chloe said. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh … Alex was just telling me a joke,” I said.

“Tell us!” she demanded. “We love jokes.”

Alex shrugged, lost. “I forget.”

“Come on!” they pleaded.

“Okay, okay,” I said. “How do you make a tissue dance?”

“How?” Max said.

“You put a little boogie in it!”

Nothing. Not even a groan.

“That’s the worst joke I ever heard,” said Chloe.

“I don’t even get it,” said Max.

Alex and I left the grade schoolers to discuss the finer points of adult entertainment and went over to where the big kids were gathering. We crossed past Josie, who was sort of slumped in a booth. Still not saying much. Well, anything.

“How are you, Josie?” I asked.

Alex nudged me toward the other big kids. He wanted to hear what they were thinking about the chemicals. I did, too …

“I don’t understand,” Astrid said. “It made Niko blister up, Dean turned into some kind of a monster, and Brayden started having hallucinations. But Sahalia and Alex and Jake were fine?”

“It doesn’t make any sense but, yeah,” Jake said, scratching his head.

“Maybe they attack based on age or something…,” Brayden said.

“I noticed that the effects seemed to wear off very quickly,” Alex piped up. “It makes me think they attack the central nervous system.”

“That anyone could make this kind of poison is just horrible,” Astrid said. “The people at NORAD should be shot.”

“Hey! That’s my dad you’re talking about,” Brayden said.

“But why would they make such awful things?” Astrid asked us. “I mean, a chemical that makes people turn into savages? Or makes them blister up and die? It’s evil.”

“They made them to protect us.”

“Protect us from what? From who?” Astrid demanded.

“From our enemies!” Brayden answered.

“It’s inhumane,” I spoke up. “Just making those compounds violates the Geneva Convention. It’s illegal.”

“Nothing’s illegal if the government itself is doing it,” Brayden asserted, like an idiot.

“That’s just amazingly wrong,” I said.

“Hey, Brayden,” Astrid said. “What exactly does your dad do for NORAD, anyway?”

I’d been wondering that exact thing. I had sort of fantasized that Brayden’s dad was like a janitor.

“That’s classified, Ass-trid,” Brayden replied.

Then we heard some rattling.

Chinka-chinka-chink.

“Hello?” came a distant voice.

We jumped up.

Someone was at the gate!

Beyond the plastic sheeting and the blankets, someone was rattling the gate.

“They came!” shouted one of the little kids. “They’re here for us!”

“Anybody home?” came the voice from outside. “Hello!”

We rushed to the gate. Everyone started clamoring at once: “Hi! Hello! We’re in here! Who are you? Hello! Hello!”

“Open the gate!” the voice shouted. “I hear you in there.”

“Yes, yes! We’re trapped inside, we want to get out! We want to go home!” shouted all the little kids in a big jumble.

Chloe turned to Niko and commanded him. “Take down the plastic. He’s here for us!”

“Don’t you touch it!” Niko growled. I’d never heard him so intense.

“Well? Open up! Come on! I’m hungry!” came the voice from outside.

The little kids were still bouncing with excitement, but I saw the others stiffen.

Listening real attentively. Something about his tone.

“We can’t open the gate,” Jake yelled. “It’s stuck.”

“You can! You can open it if you try! Come on!”

Chinka-chinka-chink.

“We’re locked in,” Jake tried to explain.

“Who’s in there?” the voice shouted.

“We’re kids from Lewis Palmer!” Jake continued. “We took shelter here from the hail and—”

“Open the gate, little kiddos!” the voice shouted.

“We can’t open it, dude!” Jake yelled. “It’s some kind of a security gate. But we want to get a message to our parents—”

“Get them a message?” The voice started to laugh. “Sure. That’s a great idea. I’ll get them a message. Open the gate, so we can make a message!”

There was something very, very off in this voice. I exchanged a glance with Alex. He knew it, too.

“Like I told you, we can’t!” Jake yelled again.

“Open it, you little twits! Come on, I’m hungry! Just open it. Open it.”

“We can’t—”

“OPEN THE F___ GATE! OPEN IT!!! OPEN, OPEN, OPEN!”

And the man outside started rattling the gate again. Chinka-chinka-chink.

I could see the fear wash over the little kids. Their faces, one moment ago bright with hope, went cold and pale.

Caroline and Henry, standing behind me, each clutched on to one of my legs at the exact same moment. I pried them off and crouched down, hugging them to me.

When the man outside shook the gate, our wall of plastic and blankets bobbed with the air pressure.

“Our wall,” I said to Niko. “Is it going to let the air in?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so,” he answered.

“Go away,” Jake shouted, his voice gruff.

“LET ME IN!” the man shouted. “BY THE HAIR OF MY F___ CHIN, LET ME IN OR I’LL HUFF AND I’LL BLOW YOUR EFFIN’ GREENWAY DOWN!”

He was shaking the gate now.

Chinka-chinka-chink. CHINKA-CHINKA-CHINK. CHINKA-CHINKA-CHINK. Wobble-wobble-wobble went the sheeting.

Astrid stepped in front of the little kids.

“Come on, guys,” she said. “Who likes puppet shows? I’m going to do a puppet show for you guys.”

No one moved.

Obviously their failure to move had nothing to do with their feelings about puppet shows. They were rooted to the spot in utter horror and shock.

“OPEN THE DOOR, YOU LITTLE SONS A BITCHES!”

“Go away!” Jake yelled. “Go away and leave us alone!”

CHINKA-CHINKA-CHINKA-CHINKA-CHINK.

“Guys!” Astrid yelled. “Free candy! Come on. Whatever toys you want! Let’s party! Come on.”

She was working so hard.

“OPEN THE GATE OR I WILL KILL YOU. I WILL TEAR YOUR LITTLE KIDDO HEADS OFF AND I WILL MAKE A SOUP OUT OF YOUR LITTLE SMART-ASS KIDDO BRAINS AND—”

I started to sing.

Yes, sing.

“I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy. Yankee Doodle Do or die.”

I let go of Henry and Caroline and started marching, like I was the leader of a parade.

“An old old something something la la la, born on the Fourth of July.” So maybe I didn’t know the words, exactly.

Alex joined in. Astrid, too. All three of us marching like idiots.

“You’re my Yankee Doodle sweetheart, Yankee Doodle do or die.”

I led the three of us, making up the words somewhat and we walked in front of the gate, getting between the eyes of the little kids and the plywood, just trying to break the terror spell of the monster outside.

Who now started to yell, “YOU SINGING ‘YANKEE DOODLE’? ‘YANKEE DOODLE DANDY’? I’LL F___ KILL YOU!”

Niko joined in and that guy, I am here to tell you, is entirely tone deaf.

But the little kids kind of snapped to. We caught their attention.