Total was nestled on Angel’s lap, one of her hands holding him protectively in place. Fang bet it was incredibly warm with that furry heat source snoozing on her.

The Gasman was tucked almost invisibly into a large hole made by long-ago lightning. He looked younger than eight, dirty, pale with exhaustion.

And then Max. She was sleeping lightly, characteristically frowning as she dreamed. As he watched, one of her hands coiled into a fist, and she shifted on her branch.

Again Fang looked down at the screen, at the message just like the one he’d received yesterday.

One of you is a traitor, it read. One of the flock has gone bad.

5

5

We’d never been to Dallas before, and the next day, we decided to visit the John F. Kennedy memorial, as part of our “Highlights of Texas” tour. Or at least the other kids had decided, and they had outvoted me and my wacky “lie low” suggestion.

Now we wandered around the outdoor site, and I have to tell you, I could have used a couple of explanatory plaques.

“This thing is going to fall on our heads any second,” Total said, examining the four walls towering over us and looking around suspiciously.

“It doesn’t say anything about President Kennedy,” the Gasman complained.

“I guess you’re supposed to know already when you come here,” Iggy said.

“He was a president,” Nudge said, trailing one tan hand along the smooth cement. “And he got killed. I think he was supposed to be a good president.”

“I still think there was a second shooter.” Total sniffed and flopped on the grass.

“Can we go now?” I asked. “Before a busload of schoolkids comes on a field trip?”

“Yeah,” said Iggy. “But what now? Let’s do something fun.”

I guess being on the run from bloodthirsty Erasers and insane scientists wasn’t enough fun for him. Kids today are so spoiled.

“There’s a cowgirl museum,” said Nudge. How did she know this? No clue.

Fang opened his laptop to a Dallas tourist site.

“There’s a big art museum,” he said, with no convincing enthusiasm. “And an aquarium.”

Angel sat patiently on the ground, smoothing her teddy bear Celeste’s increasingly bedraggled fur. “Let’s go to the cowgirl museum,” she said.

I bit my lip. Why couldn’t we just get out of here, go hide someplace, take the time to figure everything out? Why was I the only one who seemed to feel a pressing need to know what the heck was going on?

“Football game,” said Fang.

“What?” Iggy asked, his face brightening.

“Football game tonight, Texas Stadium.” Fang snapped the laptop shut and stood. “I think we should go.”