“Here,” I said. I stepped into the bus, put the box down, and used one of the back-swept spikes of metal on my glove to cut the twine. I handed Gilpatrick the box.

“Thank you.”

“Stay safe,” I said.

“Hey, before you go,” Jasper said. He adjusted his sleeve.

“Don’t,” someone said, behind him.

His sleeve up, he turned around to show me. A playing card, with a jester’s cap on it. ‘Jester’ was spelled out beneath.

“Everyone’s giving me shit about it,” he said, but he smiled.

“You actually did it,” I said. “You like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Then that’s what’s important.”

He smiled. “Yeah.”

“Are they calling you Jester like you wanted?”

“They have to, don’t they?” he asked, still smiling.

“Yes they do.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Gilpatrick said. “Get in touch after, okay? We’ll chat about how it went, catch up.”

“Will do. Thanks for everything,” I said.

“Anytime.”

I collected the remaining box of donuts and the tray of coffee. I flew back and out the door of the bus rather than back down the stairs. The door was still closing, screeching shut, as Jester put the bus into motion.

The patrol would be part of our extended perimeter. Evacuating the citizens and containing the problem to just the Fallen camp were almost mutually exclusive things. We couldn’t let people go without risking that they’d cause trouble elsewhere. We’d funnel them into the Patrol block.

It’d be three buses or vans filled with young men and women. All would be seventeen and older, uniformed, with guns and some semblance of an idea what to do. There would be instructors, many of whom were ex-PRT, and many graduates.

The others had already gathered, situating themselves in a parking lot with aborted construction of a store partially blocking them from view. Kenzie had arrived, and laid down at the back of the van, helmet off, legs bent at the knee and dangling over the bumper. A woman that was very clearly her mother stood a few feet away, her back to the open van door. Tristan, Sveta, and Chris were there, standing a distance away. Only Chris was uncostumed. He wore a beige sweatshirt with the hood up, and jeans. The ‘sash’ he kept with him for wearing in costume was wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf.

I landed.

“There you are,” Tristan said.

“I spotted Gilpatrick. Two of our four truckloads of Patrol guys are here. The other two are on schedule, I think.”

“Are those donuts?” Chris asked.

“And coffees, with one soft drink,” I said.

I handed over the box, giving Chris his soft drink. I distributed the coffees, giving one to Sveta and one to Tristan. Kenzie pulled on her helmet and jumped out of the back of the van, running past her mother.

“You sure you don’t want a drink?” I asked Kenzie. I’d asked in earlier phone conversation.