His face shifted, and for a moment I worried that I’d joked too hard. But instead he held out his hand. “Flashlight.”

“How am I supposed to—”

“I don’t care how you do anything. I’m not having you put the group at risk if a Host sees you out there. And a flashlight means you could be spotted from far away.”

I slapped the Maglite into his palm.

He leaned over me. “Don’t make a noise. And make sure your dog doesn’t either.”

He shoved the doors open and made me walk under his armpit to get out. I headed down the hall, hesitating by the front doors. Since setting foot inside the school, I hadn’t been back outside. It felt safe in here, sheltered and protected.

“You heard the jerk,” I told Cassius. “Not a sound.”

I pushed the doors open, and we eased out, the night breeze chilling my neck, my hands. Though we kept on the lawn close to the building, I shot nervous glances through the front gates to the parking lot and the street beyond. A few Mappers moved along. I couldn’t make out anything more than their shadowy forms, but I recognized the posture, the pattern of their steps.

One of them stopped and tilted his head back. His eyes, aimed at the heavens, began to glow. I watched, fascinated and horrified. If our theory was right, he was uploading data. Sending along the terrain he’d scanned to whoever that squirming virtual eye belonged to. The breeze wafted over the sound of throaty clicking, the same sound Sheriff Blanton had been making in Alex’s closet. It struck me that it sounded a bit like a fax machine trying for a connection or the noises I’d heard Internet dial-ups make in old movies.

Finally the Mapper lowered his head and continued on his course.

I urged Cassius onto the dewy lawn, and he darted along with his nose to the ground, sniffing.

“Come on,” I whispered. “Just go already.”

He moved closer to the edge of the lawn, toward the fence line.

“Hey, stop. Cassius. Cassius.”

I was gonna tug him back toward the building, but try telling a dog where to go to the bathroom. At last he lifted his leg and started peeing right on the fence.

As I looked up, a Host emerged from the darkness, the hollowed-out face right there on the far side of the chain-link. My insides froze. I opened my mouth to yell but somehow managed to stop the noise in my throat.

The Host was Mr. Tomasi, his elbow-patched corduroy blazer looking frayed, his eyeholes focused on the ground in front of him.

He swept past me, close enough that I could smell a lingering trace of his cologne. His loafer moved right through the spot where Cassius was peeing, but he kept on, never so much as raising his head.