36
FOR A FEW seconds, all we can do is stare.
Then I’m jumping on the TextTrans, picking it up. It vibrates along the digits of my fingers, along my bones, jolting my whole body. But on the screen are only scrambled characters.
“Is it Epap?” Sissy says, running to me.
“I can’t tell.” I shake the TextTrans as if that might help. “The screen’s all messed up.”
“Try to send something back,” Sissy says.
With shaking fingers, I type EPAP, but it comes out as:
There’s nothing I can do about the garbled letters. I hit SEND. And as if I’ve just hit the OFF button, the TextTrans dies on me. It stops vibrating. The screen powers off.
“No!” Sissy shouts. “What did you do?”
“Nothing! I just hit SEND.”
“What happened?”
I smack the back of the TextTrans. “It was probably just a glitch. Inside circuits dried up in the sunlight, then sent a phantom message in error.”
“Or it could’ve been Epap.”
Before I can reply, the TextTrans comes alive again in my hand, vibrating hard and furious. I almost drop it.
“Gene!”
“I know, I know.” Faces pressed together, we read the screen. And again, I almost drop the TextTrans.
Guys? Is that you, Sissy? Gene?
Sissy and I stare at each other. With thumbs that suddenly seem too big and cumbersome and slow, I type out a reply.
Who is this?
We wait for what seems like an eternity. Then:
Sissy and I glance at each other, eyes hopeful. I type: Resend.
The TextTrans hums, and this time when we read the screen Sissy lets out a cry.
Epap.
I start typing furiously.
Where are you?
Not su
. In bui
ing
You okay?
No. Broke
leg.
RU in Convention Center?
No. Tall bu
ding. Tallest one ar
nd.
Large atrium inside?
Y. 
ts of glass. And sun.
Good. Coming now.
K. hu
ry.
“He’s in the Domain Building,” I say to Sissy. “Makes sense. Lots of sun inside. A good place to hide.”
Sissy taps her mouth with a curled knuckle, forehead furrowed. She glances at the TextTrans. “How can we be sure it’s Epap?” she says. “What if it’s someone pretending to be him?”
I stare down at the TextTrans, my body chilling over despite the sunshine beating down on me. Sissy’s right. On the other end might be someone who has just finished devouring Epap, and has now lucked upon a way of luring two more unsuspecting hepers.
“The Domain Building’s sun-proofed,” I say. “No dusker would hide in there to lure us. Not in the daytime. It’s got to be Epap.”
But Sissy’s not satisfied. “Daytime will be nighttime in a few short hours.” She rubs the back of her neck. “If we’re going back into the metropolis with night fast approaching, we need to be sure it’s him.” She grabs the TextTrans out of my hands.
I’m coming, Epap. And on your birthday, too.
She stares intently at the screen. “His birthday’s eight months away.”
The TextTrans buzzes. We read the characters before the TextTrans blanks out completely. It will be the last characters to ever appear on the TextTrans finally gone kaput.
