I realized that I had a responsibility now to help protect them, just as Patrick had always protected me. Down below, the Hosts continued their busy-bee work, converting Creek’s Cause into a prison camp.

“I guess there’s our answer,” Patrick whispered, sweeping a hand to indicate the town. “The spores transform the adults, but kids aren’t affected.”

I couldn’t find my voice to respond. I kept hoping that I’d blink and it would all go back to normal.

The Host on the telephone pole descended, lumbered a quarter mile past the square, and began to walk those expanding spirals we were now familiar with. On the road the abandoned jackhammers rattled against the asphalt. It took a moment for me to pick up the Durant brothers at the farthest reach of town, spread out from each other, heads lowered, making their ninety-degree turns. It seemed that every time a man finished a task, he went to a new starting point to walk his pattern. I looked across the landscape, dotted with men as far as the eye could see, all of them moving in similar fashion. For all we knew, they continued beyond in the darkness, their bizarre footwork covering the whole county.

Patrick finally broke us out of our spell. “We better pull back,” he whispered. “Before any of them notice us.”

But I wasn’t watching him. My eyes were on Zeus, who was facing the other way, his big head oriented on the woods behind us. His upper lip wrinkled back from his fangs, his growl so low I could feel it in my bones. Cassius turned next, and then all seven dogs were focused on the tree line, heads lowered, teeth bared.

We watched, breathless. A faint sound carried to us, like the murmur of distant bees. It took a moment for me to place it.

Shallow panting.

A twig snapped. A branch bobbed, the pine needles rustling. And then a wall of Hosts became visible between the trunks, moving toward us.

Our schoolteachers.

Principal Delarusso, still dressed from the PTA meeting in her crisp skirt suit and string of pearls. Coach Hanson in her Adidas sweats, the ever-present whistle swaying on its lanyard. Mrs. Wolfgram from geometry honors, oversize glasses guarding the blank holes where her eyes used to be. And many more than my gaze could fix on.

They advanced.

I looked at the dogs. “Release,” I said.

Zeus lunged first, grabbing Coach’s arm and torquing her to the ground. Cassius barked as the others charged in.

“Give me your gun,” Patrick said. “The shotgun’s no good from here.”

I slapped Sheriff Blanton’s revolver into his hand. He fired it at Coach. The hammer clicked down dry. No bullets.

I’d been in such a hurry back at Alex’s house, I hadn’t thought to look.