“Manny said taking down the tower would take care of the dragonflies,” Wyatt says. “Not the walkers. He didn’t say it would have any effect on them at all. And now that we know they can swim . . . that thing was probably underwater for hours, waiting . . .”

“We know how to kill walkers,” I say. “Trey just showed us how. But those dragonflies . . . each one can take out a car. Just three of them together demolished a whole city block. They are by far our worst danger, and it’s still worth it to take them out.”

“True,” Trey says, and I give him a look of gratitude. “I’m trying to figure out how it all works. Manny was certain the Farmers were attracted to motion and energy, but it sure seemed like Paige was invisible, even when she was yelling and waving her arms.”

“Maybe it’s a little of both?” Wyatt says. “They sense us, but they need motion to zero in on us. . . . Sorry, I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“No, I think you’re onto something,” Trey says. “They’re not of this world. It makes sense that their perceptions are not of this world either. Totally beyond our comprehension. We could be years and years figuring it out.”

“Which is why we need to take down that tower,” I insist. “So we buy ourselves time. It’s the only way humanity will have a chance.”

“Not if we die doing it,” Wyatt says. “I know a lot of survival craft. We can head into the wilderness. Live a long time out there, unbothered. And yeah, maybe we don’t save humanity, but we could last a while. Maybe they won’t be able to sense us if we get far enough away.”

“That’s also a good point,” Trey says.

I look back and forth between him and Wyatt. The wear of the last few days shows in their heavy eyelids, and their shoulders droop with exhaustion that I’m not sure is entirely physical. I don’t blame them for being terrified and overwhelmed. I am, too.

But I don’t do despair.

“I want to live,” I say. “Except more than that. One of the reasons I wanted to go to the WNBA was because I wanted people to remember my name for years and years. I wanted to make a mark, do something important. I still do. And I still can.”

I grab Hazel Jenkins’s ridiculous floral purse and reach inside.

“And I want others to be remembered too. My stepdad, Paul, my brother, Ryan, my mom who probably spent her last breaths hooking me up to an IV so I could survive my coma. I don’t have anything left of them. My house blew up. A dragonfly made Paul’s car disappear, but look here.”

I pull out the photo identification of Mrs. Carby and slap it down onto the coffee table.