“They’re just sleeping,” she said. Sprawled about on the benches, on the ground, many lying on top of each other, arms and legs flailed about in every direction, hundreds of them. Seemingly dead to the world. “That Kletter lady got the drug from her boat, gave it to my mom, the same stuff she used on her dead buddies. She said she didn’t want to actually kill them but ended up finishing them off with a gun, anyway.”

“And we’re supposed to trust this lady?”

“I trust my mom. That’s all that matters right now. And once we have time to talk about why we want to go back with Kletter, I think you’ll be on board, too. No pun intended.”

Isaac gestured to the heaps and piles of sleeping bodies. “And these people?”

“She said they’ll wake up in about ten hours.”

Not everyone had taken the drug—a few members of the Congress were already speaking with Ms. Cowan, and there were a scattered few who’d decided not to have the customary wine. They looked somewhere between dazed and righteously pissed off.

“She said?” Isaac repeated. “Some starving, murderous crazy lady who we’ve known for four days? Nice.”

Sadina gave him a reproachful, disappointed look. “We outnumber her for one thing, and she doesn’t seem the least bit crazy. Plus, my mom took the drug last night. Said it was the best night of sleep she ever had.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Isaac laughed first, then Sadina joined in, the two of them eventually reaching the giddy giggle of people who’re losing it. But it did make Isaac feel better.

When it finally fizzled to a stop, he said, “So . . . what? You want me to get on that rickety piece-of-crap boat and bon voyage to the land of Cranks and the Flare? Sounds like a brilliant plan.”

“Just wait till you hear what Kletter says. There’s no way Trish and I are leaving without you. You gotta trust us. And my mom and others have it all figured out—they’re going to make it look like Kletter herself broke out and did all this—” she pointed at the mass slumber party “—and took some of us hostage, left on the boat. That way when we come back, which we will come back, Isaac, we can say it was all her fault. Now come on.”

She took him by the hand and dragged him toward her mom, who was barking orders like a cranky fitness coach. Isaac was glad for the connection to Sadina, to something solid like her fingers clasped around his, glad to be clutched by someone who wasn’t about to dissipate and fade from the world he’d always—and only—known.