I looked over at Patrick and saw him swallow. Alex reached across and gripped his hand.

Chatterjee said, “I’d hoped that there would be a period where the air was fertile—infected, that is—and then it would pass. But no. It seems that the air composition itself has been altered.”

“Maybe it’s permanent,” Rocky piped up from the back. “Like when a supervolcano erupts and changes the air for like a million years.”

“One great Dusting,” Chatterjee said.

A strangled sound rose out of the bleachers. “I’m dead, then.” Chet lowered himself to one of the benches and let his face droop into his hands. His voice came out muffled through his fingers. “I’m dead.” His shoulders shook, but aside from a few wet gasps he was silent.

No one knew what to say.

Ben finally spoke up. “You’re right. We gotta call it like it is. Come tomorrow, it’s over for you.”

“Do you remember what time you were born?” Dezi Siegler asked.

Chet lifted his face, smeared with tears. “A minute after noon. Since I was so … big, the delivery took a long time. My mom used to joke that my birth was a high-noon showdown.”

“So you have till midday tomorrow,” Ben said. “Then I’ll put you down. I’m sorry, Chet, but it’s gotta be done.”

Chet looked around from kid to kid, appealing for some kind of help, but there was none to give. I’d never felt so helpless in my life. And that wasn’t even the worst part. Scratching at the back of my skull was an even more terrifying thought: Four more days till we’ll have to do the same to Patrick.

Dr. Chatterjee made his unsteady way to Chet and sat beside him. Chet tilted into him, sobbing into his shoulder. “I’m sorry, son,” Chatterjee said. “I’m sorry I can’t protect you. If there was any way it could be me instead of you, I would make that trade.”

Chet cried for a long time. When he started to wheeze, Dr. Chatterjee told him to slow his breathing down, to take deep, measured inhales. Finally Chet looked up.

“Is there anything you want?” Patrick said. “For tonight? Tomorrow morning?”

“Like a last meal?” Chet’s laugh turned into a stifled sob. “No. I think I just want to look at the view, maybe. Breathe some fresh air.”

Patrick nodded. “How ’bout the roof? You could go up there.”

Chet rose and made his way down the bleachers, pausing on his sturdy legs. “Will you come with me, Patrick?”

“Of course I will.”

As they headed out, Ben called after them, “Careful you don’t get spotted.”