‘What?’ Dee glares at Sanjay through his rearview mirror. ‘It’s not just an RV. It’s a custom-made, bulletproof, luxury recreational vehicle. And that doesn’t even describe it all.’

I raise my eyebrows and try to look interested.

‘Fear not, my little padawan. You will understand the awesomeness of the Tweedle Twins when the time comes.’

‘Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll at least be entertaining.’ This time, rather than sounding like Obi, I sound like a patient mom. I crinkle my nose at that.

Dee holds up a set of keys. ‘Of course, the winner has to survive the talent show and then tear the keys out of my cold dead hands.’ He grips the keys and makes them disappear.

‘But there’s no doubt it’ll be worth it,’ I say.

‘See?’ says Dee. ‘That’s why she’s the leader. The girl knows what she’s talking about.’

But I don’t. When we reach the East Bay Bridge, there’s nobody there.

My shoulders sink as I see the abandoned streets and empty waters. My announcement is looping throughout the peninsula, and everyone who was at the Resistance camp knows to come here if they’re willing to fight. I didn’t expect a large group, but I’m devastated that no one has shown.

‘No time to stand around,’ says Dee as he gets out of the car. ‘The guys have already started dropping off the supplies.’

I look to where he points. There’s a pile of lumber waiting by the water. ‘And that must be our ride now.’

Dee nods at a ferry moving our way. It used to be white once upon a time, but it looks like someone threw dark paint all over it to try to camouflage it.

‘Well, at least there will be four of us in the fight.’ I try to sound extra cheery.

‘Three,’ says Sanjay. ‘I’m just here as the expert. Guys like me, we’re lovers, not fighters.’

‘You’re a fighter now,’ I say, pulling him toward the water.

By two o’clock, Dum comes back with a smug grin, strutting like he just accomplished something big. There are also enough people now who have come out of the woodwork for us to have a real working crew. Lumber, hammers and nails, stereo equipment, and lighting are all being ferried and put together on the island chunk of the Bay Bridge that we’ve selected for our final stand.

By three o’clock, the first gangs roll up to the shore. By this time, there is a respectable number of refugees and freedom fighters. We’ve collected some of Obi’s old citizen soldiers who heard our announcement.

‘Better to go out like a man than run like a cockroach,’ says one bearded guy leading a bunch of others with gang tattoos as he struts into the group.