Miss Manners, at the head of the pack, asks, “Leaving so soon?”

The amoeba disperses, but no one flees or disappears into the jungle’s edges only a few feet away. As if subconsciously linked, we reform into a line, led by our fiercest warriors: Marcos, Molly, Darcy, and Jack—their weapons extended. Lacrishia remains in back, swiveling again to make sure we aren’t about to be ambushed from behind. “Don’t let anything happen to this,” I tell Alan, handing Ricky’s urn to the trembling boy. Nodding, he retreats, backing away into Anke. In under a second, I shove Christina and Vance behind Karaoke Bill and direct them: “If he moves at all, blast him.” Charged with a new fire, Vance and Christina press their tasers to the old goat’s back. He flinches, but otherwise sways in place. My duties delegated, I point my shattered half-spear and approach Miss Manners. The gray-shirts lower their spears to strike, but Miss Manners raises her hand to halt them.

Everyone remains at attention—Marcos still holding Briggs—as Miss Manners and I advance on each other at the center of the two opposing hordes. Weaponless, Miss Manners’s shredded, filthy lemon dress flaps in the wind, but the effect is of an imperious, mad queen. We meet each other and smile.

“Nice spears,” I say, finding my nerve just in time.

“The boys saw yours and thought it was a fine idea,” she says. “You look a mess.”

“Sorry, I’ve got Reverend on me.”

Miss Manners’s lips tighten as she peers over my shoulder at Bill, Briggs, and the rest of her predicament. “I knew I was right not to trust that call from Briggs. What exactly is going on here?”

“You’re in peril, Carol,” Vance hollers from the back.

Unamused, Miss Manners sneers and attempts to regain her pageant composure. “I take it y’all are leaving and bringing Bill with you?” I nod. “Good idea. This place could use a reboot.”

“We’ll see,” I say, refusing to retreat from her even a millimeter. “First thing, you’re gonna step aside and let Briggs and my very fine boyfriend, Marcos, into the clinic to fetch a few things before we shove off. Boys!”

Marcos frog-marches Briggs to the clinic’s raised stilts and waits by my side. My boyfriend. In the harsh lamplight of the clinic porch, Marcos’s strong, sweating arms hold Briggs at bay so confidently, I almost feel faint. His heart must be beating so fast, but he’s committed to getting us off the island and isn’t about to falter, not even in the face of Miss Manners and her talons. Briggs, on the other hand, can’t look anyone in the eye.