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“Worms don’t have teeth,” Astrid said.
“They didn’t have teeth. Now they do,” Sam said.
“See the things sticking out all around its body?” She squinted and zoomed in closer still. “They’re like, I don’t know, like minuscule paddles. Like legs, only tiny and thousands of them.”
“They got into E.Z. I think they went right through his hands. Right through his shoes. Right through his body.”
Astrid shuddered. “Those teeth would bore through anything. The legs push it forward once it’s inside its victim.”
“Thousands of them in that field,” Sam said. “E.Z. goes in, they attack him. But me and Albert and Edilio are outside, we haven’t stepped into the field, and they don’t come after us.”
“Territoriality?” Astrid frowned. “Very unusual in a primitive animal. Territoriality is usually associated with higher life-forms. Dogs or cats are territorial. Not worms.”
“You’re being very calm about all this,” Sam said, almost but not quite accusingly.
Astrid looked at him, reached with her hand to gently turn him away from the horrible image, forcing him to look at her instead. “You didn’t come to me so I could scream and run away and you could be brave and comforting.”
“No,” he admitted. “Sorry. You’re right: I didn’t come to see Astrid my girlfriend. I came to see Astrid the Genius.”
Astrid had never liked that nickname much, but she’d accepted it. It gave her a place in the dazed and frightened community of the FAYZ. She wasn’t a Brianna or a Dekka, or a Sam, with great powers. What she had was her brain and her ability to think in a disciplined way when required.
“I’ll dissect it, see what I can learn. Are you okay?”
“Sure. Why not? This morning I was responsible for 332 people. Now I’m only responsible for 331. And part of me is almost thinking, okay, one less mouth to feed.”
Astrid leaned close and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Yeah, it sucks to be you,” Astrid said. “But you’re the only you we have.”
That earned her a bleak smile. “So, shut up and deal with it?” he said.
“No, don’t ever shut up. Tell me everything. Tell me anything.”
Sam looked down, unwilling to make eye contact. “Everything? Okay, how about this: I burned the body. E.Z. I burned the mess they left behind.”
“He was dead, Sam. What were you supposed to do? Leave him for the birds and the coyotes?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I know. But that’s not the problem. The problem is, when he burned? He smelled like meat cooking, and I…” He stopped talking, unable to go on. She waited while he mastered his emotions. “A dead sixth grader was burning, and my mouth started watering.”
Astrid could too easily imagine it. Even the thought of burning meat made her mouth water. “It’s a normal, physiological reaction, Sam. It’s a part of your brain that’s on automatic.”
“Yeah,” he said, unconvinced.
“Look, you can’t go around moping because something bad happened. If you start acting hopeless, it will spread to everyone else.”
“Kids don’t need my help to feel hopeless,” he said.
“And you’re going to let me cut your hair,” Astrid said, pulling him close and ruffling his hair with one hand. She wanted to get his mind off the morning’s disaster.
“What?” He looked confused by the sudden change of topic.
“You look like a fugitive from some old 1970s hair band. Besides,” she argued, “Edilio let me cut his hair.”
Sam allowed himself a smile. “Yeah. I saw. Maybe that’s why I keep accidentally calling him Bart Simpson.”
When she glared at him, he added, “You know, the spiky look?” He tried to kiss her, but she drew back.
“Oh, you’re just so clever, aren’t you?” she said. “How about I just shave your head? Or hot-wax it? Keep insulting me, people will be calling you Homer Simpson, not Bart. Then see how much Taylor makes goo-goo eyes at you.”
“She does not make goo-goo eyes at me.”
