Even before I’d seen Jeff—even before I’d seen Toni’s wall—I should have known there would be dozens of us, hundreds, maybe even thousands, scattered all around the world. Because kids die. Not many kids, not even most kids, but still, kids die. They run into traffic or they eat the wrong thing or they catch COVID or the wrong strain of flu. An invasion that could lose whatever advantage we represented because of a bad hamburger was no invasion at all. It was a farce masquerading as a threat, and there was no point to it.

“Not a million,” Jeff agreed. “Still. Lots of us, and I never managed to meet a single one before you flew close enough to my house for me to pick you up. You’re real. You’re real, and that means I’m real, and that means I’m not…” He touched the bandage on his cheek, eyes troubled.

“It means I’m not broken,” he said finally.

“No,” I said softly, and looked out the window at the wooded roadside rolling endlessly by. The trees seemed to go on forever. Maine was a lot like Washington, at least in that way.

There was a scuffle behind us before Toni jammed her head between the seats, looking first at Jeff, then at me. Jeff yelped, grabbing at the wheel as he fought not to lose control. Toni rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be a big baby,” she said. “If you’re all like this, the humans are going to win no problem, and then you’re going to look pretty damn silly. Right before we lock you in some secret government lab and experiment on you for twenty years.”

Jeff stared at her. That seemed somewhat unsafe, given that we were still driving; I reached over and pushed his head gently back toward the road.

“Toni, please don’t antagonize the driver,” I said wearily. “Jeff, this is Antonia Fabris, the astronomer who intercepted the signal from the fleet. She probably knows more about what it can tell us regarding the position and timing of the invasion than anyone else in the world.”

“Also I was nearly assimilated by one of your fucked-up pod flowers and I hate you,” said Toni.

“There’s also that,” I agreed.

Jeff scowled, keeping his eyes on the road. “Then what is she doing in the van?” he demanded. “If she was a failed conversion, there’s no way she’s on our side.”

“I don’t think any sensible human is going to be on your side, Seymour,” said Toni blithely. “I mean, there is a distinct lack of coming in peace in your overall game plan. But see, the human race is not on my side either, because they think there’s something wrong with me, on account I’ve been playing the role of the heroic football quarterback in a nineteen-fifties monster movie for most of my life.”