The Rains (Untitled #1)(52)

A bad throw bumped off Ben’s back, and he turned sharply. “Stop that,” he said. “We’re trying to watch the invasion.”

“Come on, Ben,” Patrick said. “Let them play if it distracts them.”

Ben didn’t reply. He kept his gaze on the television. After a cautious pause, the young kids resumed their throwing.

The rest of us couldn’t not watch the images on-screen. Throughout the day and evening, destruction swept across the globe.

Chasers ravaging the beaches of Melbourne, rolling young kids in their own beach towels and spiriting them away.

People shuddering on the floor of the Tokyo stock exchange, ash drifting from the spaces where their eyes used to be.

Factory workers buckling themselves to construction cranes thrusting out from half-built skyrises in Shanghai.

Mappers pacing through Red Square.

Sheikhs and their wives lying on the roofs of luxury high-rises in Kuala Lumpur as if suntanning, their ripe bellies exploding beneath the Southeast Asian sun.

A shoeless investment banker scaling the Tower of London.

Chasers storming the Louvre, hijacking a field trip of uniformed schoolchildren.

A man with a huge gut roping himself to one arm of the giant Christ statue in Rio de Janeiro.

The world was a very big place. We were finally getting to see all of it.

Just after nightfall we were down to the last channel.

Live footage showed Chasers wading into a grand fountain in Caracas, yanking children out from where they hid beneath the arcing water. The camera toppled over, giving a tilted view of the atrocities.

Then it went to static.

Alex clicked the dial frantically around and around, but there was nothing left to see. We had lost the outside world. Everything we knew had shrunk to within the four walls of the gym.

Alex sank to the floor and pressed her fists to her chin. The static kept on, a white-noise roar. Ben clomped up the bleachers and settled on the top bench, staring through the open windows at the darkness beyond.

Patrick moved to Alex, rested a hand on her head. “Alexandra,” he said.

She didn’t respond. He reached over and turned off the TV. The sudden silence felt even scarier than what we’d just seen.

The only remaining sound was the whoosh of the Frisbee as the young kids tossed it around. JoJo’s throw went wide, drifting up to Ben. He caught it and said, “Enough.” Then he flung the Frisbee through the open window.

JoJo cried out and scampered up the bleachers. She rested her hands on the sill and watched, then crumpled to the top bench. “It went over the fence,” she said. A few wisps of hair that the scissors had missed fell down past her eyes. “You threw it over the fence.”

“This ain’t no time for kid games,” Ben said. “We got bigger concerns right now.”

Dr. Chatterjee rose, facing up at Ben. “What does that accomplish? It’s cruel, yes, with the added advantage of being foolish. The younger kids are quiet when they play.”

“The time for playing is over,” Ben said. “We should be training these kids to kill Hosts.”

“That is not what we’re going to do.”

“And why not? You can’t defend us. Not as a cripple. Who’s to say I don’t just take over and run things the way they need to be run? That’s the problem with your vote earlier. You say you’re the leader. But you got no way to enforce it.”

“I’ll enforce it,” Patrick said.

Ben looked over at him and gave a thoughtful nod. “For four more days, maybe.”

“Ben,” Chatterjee said. “Come down here right now.”

Ben looked at him. Then folded his arms. “Or what?” he asked.

Chatterjee had no reply.

“That’s the problem,” Ben said. “You can’t enforce anything. You have no authority. There’s a new order we have to recognize, Dr. Chatterjee. The old rules don’t apply. If I decide not to play along, who’s gonna do anything about it?”

A tense silence settled over the gym.

Alex stood first.

Then I did, too. Eve was next.

Others starting rising, one after another, until about two-thirds of the kids were on their feet. The rest sat glaring up at us, making clear they were Ben’s allies.

“Okay.” Ben gave a nod and started down from the bleachers. He stared at those of us standing against him. “But you should realize, guys. It’s only a matter of time.” His footsteps padded across the court, and then he took up his usual post by the double doors.

JoJo was still crying, so I climbed up to her. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll get it back for you.”

“When?”

I peered past her through the window. Her Frisbee stood out, a fluorescent green dot in the middle of the street across from the school’s front lawn. In the driveway just beyond, a Chaser crouched on her haunches atop a Volvo, facing away.

“Later,” I answered.

From below, Alex said, “What are the readings?”

It took a moment for Dr. Chatterjee to catch her meaning, and then he raised the carbon monoxide detector to the dim light. He shook his head. “It’s gotten worse. There are more of the unknown particulates in the air than before.”

I looked over at Patrick and saw him swallow. Alex reached across and gripped his hand.