He crossed his arms, confronting Alex and Patrick. “Phone lines are cut. Internet’s out. Power’s out. We got the emergency generator, but we figure it’s best to use it as little as possible, keep the lights off so we don’t draw the—What’d you call ’em? Hosts? We gotta go through the entire school before we power on the generator, make sure all the light switches and fans are off, anything that’ll alert them. We were just about to get started. So thanks for the quick thinking, Alexandra, but we got it covered.”

“Oh, yeah,” Patrick said, gesturing around. “Looks like you’ve got everything solved, Ben. No need for any new ideas.”

“We’ve managed just fine so far without big bad Patrick Rain. We got a system in place, and that’s the only reason you’re looking at a hundred survivors. We don’t need some blonde waltzing in here giving orders.”

Patrick’s mouth tensed. “I didn’t hear her give any orders.”

“What? She can’t speak up for herself? She needs you to look out for her like you’ve looked out for your kid brother since your parents croaked?”

Patrick set down the shotgun and took a step forward. Ben smiled that twisted smile and raised his fists. “Okay, then.”

Dr. Chatterjee tried to get between Patrick and Ben, but he was too slow; Patrick had already breezed by. “Hang on,” Chatterjee said. “This is the last thing we need right now.”

Patrick and Ben had almost closed in on each other when a scream from outside lofted in through the high windows. The two of them froze. JoJo covered her ears, squeezed her eyes shut. It came again, a child’s cry.

And then suddenly it cut off.

Marina Mendez scampered up the bleachers to the top bench and put her face to the window. “They got Angie B.,” she said.

The silence that followed was broken by a few of the younger kids sobbing. Slowly, I became aware of Patrick and Ben close to me, still locked in their standoff. Patrick stepped back from Ben, holding his hands to the sides. “I’m sorry,” he said. Then he turned to Dr. Chatterjee and the other kids. “I was being stupid.”

Alex glared at Ben. “Have you tried the TV?” she asked.

“Cable lines are cut,” Ben said.

“How ’bout the crappy old one with the rabbit ears in the teachers’ lounge?” Alex said. “You think of that?”

Ben reddened a little. “Who cares about the TV?”

“I do. Because with a TV we can see how far this thing’s spread.” Alex reached over her shoulder, grabbing the handle of her hockey stick and whipping it free of the backpack. It looked like she was unsheathing a sword. “I’ll go get it,” she said. “You stay here and act important.”