“I can think of no better Realitant for this than you, Sato. You have stealth and wit about you. Plus, no one will suspect someone so young, and if you do get in a bind, I trust your ability to get out of it.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Rutger said, squirming on his booster seat. “What mission are you talking about?”

George paused before answering. “Sato and I are positive the explanation for people going crazy is some type of plague—literally. And we’re quite sure it’s linked to Chu’s superweapon. I want to send Sato into the area most infected with this plague and obtain a blood sample from one of the victims. Until we understand the disease, we won’t know how to fight it.”

Sato barely heard George’s words, as if they were coming down a long, dark tunnel. George wanted to send him. What if . . . what if he caught the plague? He was perfectly willing to face danger in his quest to avenge his parents’ death, but the prospect of a nasty disease that made you crazy sickened him. Frightened him.

“Are you up to it?” Mothball asked, reaching over and patting Sato’s arm.

“Huh? What?” he said.

“Are you up to it, I said.”

Sato looked around at the others in the room. Several beads of sweat finally let go and slid down his temples. He hadn’t expected this.

“I . . . uh . . .” In that moment, the image of his parents burning popped into his head, and his squishy fear hardened into concrete resolve.

“I’ll do it,” he said, trying his best to keep his voice firm. “I’ll be fine.”

Sally stood up, folding his arms across his broad chest. “I reckon I’ll go wid the young fella.”

George shook his head. “No, Sally. I have an entirely different mission for you.”

Chapter

22

~

Lots of Left Turns

They’d been walking for hours.

This new Reality seemed the most normal of any Tick had visited so far. Aside from a few oddities, it wasn’t much different from his hometown in Reality Prime. One of those differences was the style of the buildings and the clothes of the citizens. It was slight, but everything here seemed a little more elaborate, a little fancier. Many businesses had huge fountains in front, with complex displays of shooting water; the moldings on the houses had carved pictures of animals and trees. The men wore fancy dark suits and greased back their hair, and the women wore dresses with white gloves pulled clear past their elbows. Also, an eerie, operatic soprano voice sang from speakers throughout the town.

Another odd thing: the place appeared to only have left turns—at least off the road on which they currently walked.