“I’m thankful I’m not currently eating bugs and rats,” Iggy said immediately.

Gazzy nodded. “I’m thankful for the stupidity of wild turkeys.”

“Since this is supposed to be Thanksgiving, I’m thankful for the memory of garlic mashed potatoes drenched in butter. Or yams with marshmallows.” Iggy sighed.

Gazzy’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, man. Remember when Nudge wanted us to celebrate Thanksgiving like normal people, and we went all out trying to cook, but the marshmallows caught on fire?”

Iggy chuckled, remembering. “We almost burned down Dr. Martinez’s kitchen!”

“And then Ella ate all the burned yams to make Nudge feel better, insisting that she just really liked the smoky flavor?”

At the mention of Ella, Iggy went silent and stopped eating. The lines around his mouth deepened in pain.

“Ig?” Gazzy whispered after a few minutes.

“Hmm?”

“I miss the flock,” Gazzy said even more quietly.

Iggy nodded, but his milky, blind eyes were like a concrete wall.

“But Ig?”

“Hmm?”

Gazzy reached a tentative hand out and squeezed Iggy’s shoulder. “I’m thankful I’ve still got you, though. And that we’re still alive.”

Iggy turned his head in Gazzy’s direction, his face softening. “Me too, little bro. Me too.”

And just as the moment started to feel a little too heavy, a low, hornlike sound rippled through the air. The fire flared up in response.

“Oh, God!” Iggy scooted away, holding his nose.

Gazzy was giggling like a maniac.

Iggy shook his head in disgust, but he was grinning. “Gasman, I knew I could count on you to keep it real.”

“Freeze, scumbags!” a gravelly female voice shouted from the woods.

Iggy and Gazzy leaped to their feet, sending burning pine needles flying.

But they were already surrounded.

49

AT LEAST A dozen heavily armed teenage girls circled Iggy and Gazzy just beyond the trees, holding crossbows.

“What didn’t you understand about the word ‘freeze’?” asked the leader, a girl with dreadlocks and sharp eyes, stepping closer. When she saw the burn marks on the ground, color rushed to her cheeks. “Did you actually try to blow up our silo?” she barked.

Silo?

“Are you kidding me?” Iggy said as Gazzy gaped at the cement circle they’d assumed was a camping platform.

The boys had been working their way north toward Pennsylvania to try to find the blog commenter and his silo. They never imagined they’d been sitting right on top of it.

“You Doomsday guys think you can come here with your cleanup crews, take whatever you want, kill whoever you want?” another girl with dark hair asked shrilly.

“No! We’re not—”

Dreadlocks narrowed her eyes. “We play by different rules.” She cocked her weapon, and the sound echoed around the circle as all the other girls followed suit, stepping out from behind the branches.