Cesspool diggers. The Crap Crew, kids called them.

And they had to kiss Albert’s butt because otherwise they didn’t eat. They’d been lucky they weren’t exiled. Turk had talked the council out of sending them off to live in the wild. He’d begged, that was the truth of it. He’d convinced them that it was better to find a place for him and the others from Human Crew.

He’d put all the blame for the fire on anyone but themselves. Kept saying, “It’s not our fault, guys, not me and Lance and all, we were forced by Zil and Hank. Hank was scary, man, you know that. You know he was a creep and he would have shot us or messed us up.”

Turk had whined like a baby. And wept. And in the end convinced that smug wetback Edilio, and especially Albert, that they wouldn’t make trouble anymore, ever again, lessons learned, their lives all turned around now.

The Human Crew became the Crap Crew. And harsher names as well. A laughingstock.

Turk hated Albert with a burning, undying passion. Albert had everything and tossed the worst crumbs to Turk and Lance and the former Human Crew.

Lance wasn’t going away. His handsome face was lit up with excitement. “Dude, don’t you get it? If we hit Albert now, everyone will blame Drake.”

That got Turk’s attention. “We tried to pin the fire on Caine and no one believed us.”

“This is different. Look, do you like living like this?” He looked wildly around the room, stabbing his hand finally toward the reeking stew pot they used as an inside toilet. “Eating the worst food, doing the worst job, and being in this dump?”

“Yeah, I love it,” Turk said with savage sarcasm. “I just love being the biggest loser in town.”

“Then listen to me.” Lance rested his hands on Turk’s shoulders. Turk shrugged them off. “Because I’m telling you: Drake can’t be killed or stopped. So everyone’s scared. Maybe we find a way to hook up with Drake, right? Or maybe we just wait until everyone’s freaking out over him, and we make our move.”

Turk didn’t dismiss it out of hand. Maybe Lance was right. Everyone knew Albert had tons of gold and ’Bertos and all kinds of food—even cans of stuff from before, good food.

“I don’t know, man,” Turk said. “Human Crew is supposed to stand for something. I mean, we’re the defenders of humans against freaks, right? We stand up for normal people. We don’t just steal stuff. We’re not, like, a gang.”

Lance laughed derisively. “Man, sometimes you are clueless. You don’t even see what’s happening.” He perched himself on the arm of the couch so he could look down at Turk. “It’s not just about freaks. I mean, you’re the guy who thinks of ideas and all, but you’re missing it. You don’t even notice that the whole council is either black or Mexican. See, that’s what’s happening: it’s all these minorities hooked up with freaks.”

The wheels in Turk’s mind began to turn slowly. But they were picking up speed. “Jamal’s with us and he’s black.”

“So? We use Jamal. He gets us into Albert’s. You do what you gotta do. All I’m saying is, you and me, we’re normal people. We’re not black or queer or Mexican. And we’re the ones digging toilets. How come?”

Turk knew the answer: because they had failed in their attempt to take over. But he’d never thought about this new angle.

“Astrid’s a normal white person,” Turk argued halfheartedly. “So’s Sam.”

“Sam’s a freak, and I think he might even be a Jew,” Lance said. His eyes were glittering. He was showing his teeth, grinning as he talked. It wasn’t a good look for him. “And Astrid? She’s not even on the council anymore.”

Turk was buying it. He felt the new ideas settle into the dark places in his aggrieved mind. “Drake’s white. So is Orc, you know, underneath it all. But they’re kind of like freaks. Only . . . only not really. Because they didn’t like, turn into freaks, they had accidents or whatever that made them what they are now.”

“Exactly,” Lance said.

Yes, Turk thought. This could be good. This could be very good. Taking out Albert would cause more problems than burning a bunch of houses. Albert was the one who was really in charge. He had the money and the food. That made him even more important than Sam.

Lisa came in then with cabbages she’d picked from the fields, and a fat rat she’d bought. Turk’s mouth watered: dinner was late.

“Let’s eat,” he said. “Then we think about what comes next.”

Chapter Fourteen

37 HOURS, 48 MINUTES

EDILIO WAITED UNTIL the sun was up to go for Roscoe.

It was all very peaceful. Roscoe wasn’t the kind of guy to make much trouble.

“We just have to put you somewhere safe,” Edilio explained.

“So I don’t give it to anyone else,” Roscoe said.

“Yeah. While we figure out how to cure you.”

“I want to say good-bye to Sinder,” Roscoe said softly. He jerked his head indicating that she was in the house.

“Of course, man. But listen. Don’t let her touch you, okay? Just in case.”

Roscoe struggled a little then, not against Edilio but against himself. He fought to stop a quiver in his lip. Fought to keep the tears from filling his eyes.

Edilio took him to town hall. There was an unused office with a cot. Edilio had made sure there were books for Roscoe to read. And a covered pot for Roscoe to do his business. A jug of water was on the shelf next to the window. A cabbage and a cooked rabbit were there, too.