“What is it?” Henry asks. He’s looking at Tom. Tom sees him through his own glasses. Glasses that suddenly feel strange on his face. Like a mask. Like something silly that Olympia would roll her eyes at.

But Tom wants this moment. He wants to look out this window before Malorie comes to this room and drags him back into her way of life forever. If he doesn’t act now, right now, when will he?

Tom steps to the glass.

Henry steps out of the way.

Tom leans toward the window.

And he hears them outside.

A lot of them.

“What is it?” Henry asks.

Tom doesn’t know what to say. He wants to try his invention, but not when he knows…so many…outside…

Henry shifts the plate over the glass again.

“Tell you what,” he says. “Why don’t we go somewhere where this type of thing is not only tolerated, but encouraged.” He steps closer to Tom. “Do you know where we are…right now?”

Tom shakes his head no. He has no idea. He’s spent the last ten years in a former summer camp.

Henry makes a mitten of his hand, shaped like Michigan, and points to the center of his middle finger.

“Indian River,” he says.

He smiles.

Tom’s heart is beating too hard. This is too much.

“You’ve heard of it?” Henry asks.

“Yes!” Breathless.

Henry nods.

“I could guide you there. You can show them your glasses. People who will appreciate what you’ve done.”

“Have…have you been?” Tom asks.

Henry laughs.

“I’ve lived there.” Then, “What do you say, Tom? Change your life? Start living your own…no longer your mother’s?”

Tom brings a hand to his face, to where Malorie slapped him.

“Yes,” Tom says. “I wanna do that. I wanna start living my own. Right now.”

TWENTY-FOUR

Olympia doesn’t have to look out a window to know the train is nearly surrounded by creatures.

She hears them.

There’s a difference, she’s learned, between the steps of a deer and those of the things that have nearly driven her mother insane the old way. It isn’t so much the weight as it is the width, the breadth of a step and the intent (or lack thereof) within.

Yes, she knows they’re surrounded. It sounds like hundreds outside the train. Enough to be heard above the wheels.

Malorie is not back. This doesn’t mean she hasn’t found Tom yet, but it probably does. Olympia doesn’t want to believe her brother could’ve left the train, but she also understands that Malorie has never slapped him before, either. What might Tom be thinking right now?