Not because of the Hosts—we’d actually been pretty lucky in that regard. But sneaking around in the night hauling a compressed-air tank and waiting for a Chaser to flash out of every shadow had frayed our nerves to the point of snapping. We’d crept from bush to tree to alley to car, our hearts racing every time we dashed across the open. Though we’d tried to be cautious, we’d been forced to take risks to save time, all too aware that every breath Patrick drew meant one less breath in the tank.

Our lookouts at the school had noted decreased Host activity along the southern fence line by the teachers’ parking lot, so we’d slipped out there. That gate also put us closest to the building itself for our return. Since we’d be lugging back as many super-heavy oxygen tanks as we could, any saved distance helped. Alex stood watch at the gate now, with Cassius at her side; when we got back, she’d signal us once the coast was clear. As strong as she was, she wouldn’t be able to manage the heavy tanks as well as Patrick or I. We’d asked for volunteers, of course, but none of the bigger boys had stepped forth. They were either scared or—like Ben—unwilling to risk their necks.

I was unarmed. The amount of loading and hauling I had to do required full use of my hands, so I couldn’t have my baling hooks dangling around my wrists. I felt naked without them.

Worse yet, Patrick was getting weird on me. First he joggled his head from side to side. Then he waved a hand in front of his face, wiggling his fingers.

“What?” I hissed.

“Everything’s blurry,” he said. “And I’m light-headed.” He pushed his palm to his forehead. “My head hurts. And feels good at the same time.” He offered me a goofy smile. “I think the oxygen’s making me loopy.”

“Great.” I reached for his tank and slid it toward me. I couldn’t read the dials, not in the dark, and even if I could have, I had no idea which way to adjust the oxygen concentration. That would have to wait for Chatterjee.

So I was stuck in the middle of the town square, heading into a deadly mission, with my brother acting like a drunk.

He took a few Darth Vader breaths. “Luke, I am your father.”

I smacked his arm. “Pull it together.”

He furrowed his brow. “Okay, okay.” Then he grinned. Then he tried to be serious again.

I rolled my eyes and returned my focus to the hospital.