He shakes his head. “Of course not. Just because I haven’t seen any doesn’t mean they’re not out there. My camera views are limited. It’s not like I can keep an eye on the entire Midwest. As I said, it’s a theory that needs testing. But I am fairly certain that—at the very least—their activity is greatly lessened while the tower is down.”

Trey is rubbing at his chin. He needs to shave again. His stubble is a bit patchy, like he couldn’t grow a full beard if he tried. I decide I like the stubble, though, and I have a sudden urge to reach for his chin with my fingertips. . . .

“So we have a window,” Trey says, smiling a little, maybe because he’s caught me looking at him. “An opportunity. We might be able to get to Port Clinton without being seen.”

“The way back would be a long trip on that barge,” Wyatt says. “I don’t think they move very fast.”

I say, “Maybe if we left right after the tower went down, we’d have five or six hours before the tower came back up and the dragonflies went back on patrol.”

Trey is nodding along. “This could work.”

Manny says, “We bring the barge back here, park it outside Sandusky Bay, hole up for the day. The next night, we can get it into place right before the tower rises again in the morning.”

“We?” I say.

“Of course I’m going with you,” he says. “You need a boat to reach a boat. My Tardis can do that.”

“So we head there in the yacht?” Wyatt says. “It will take hours.”

“We split up,” I say, and when Wyatt gives me a weird look, I add, “We can’t be sure Manny’s theory about the dragonflies will hold. So we go separately, in the Tardis and in the El Camino. That way we don’t create a single target.”

“Good idea,” Manny says. “Give me a head start. We’ll meet in Port Clinton. If we get the barge working in time to drive it back here, great. If not, we lie low until the next night.”

“Paige and Trey said something about an explosive earlier,” says Wyatt. “If we head over to Barb’s Barbeque for lighter fluid, I bet we can find propane tanks too. The one my dad used for his grill weighed about twenty pounds. We load half a dozen onto the end of the coal barge, make a fuse with lighter fluid . . .”

“Wyatt, that’s genius,” says Trey, and Wyatt beams. “Coal burns really hot, definitely hot enough to explode some propane tanks. I bet we could blow that tower back to the stars.”

“We have to get close enough first,” I remind him. “And we have to do it during the day, when the tower is up and the dragonflies are zipping around.”