chapter seventeen

When we finally get back on the road, the sun is starting to go down. Everything is drenched in a soothing, creamsicle orange and even the awful vines sparkle gold.

It’s beautiful.

And we all must think so because, for a moment, we’re all quiet.

Except for Neon.

Now that he’s bandaged up, Neon has a lot more spring in his step. I mean, he’s practically prancing! It’s a whole lotta cute, a little bit out-of-control, and kinda painful.

Neon is exhausting—but the longer I’m with him, the more I’m sure that he’s not evil.

Evil monsters emit a stench, always. Blarg, Thrull, Ghazt—they all stank. Like how the smell of bad milk tells you “don’t drink me!” the odor of evil practically screams “RUN FAR AWAY!”

But Neon pretty much just smells like water balloons and magic markers. What if Winged Wretches aren’t destined to be evil from the moment they’re hatched? Maybe they just turn evil because they’re raised to be evil?

Or . . . maybe they have, like, a big “YOU’RE EVIL NOW!” party when they hit a certain age, like a quinceañera or a sweet sixteen. . . .

I’m thinking about important stuff like birthday parties and the nature of evil when we reach a railroad crossing. The tracks stretch out endlessly to the east and the west.

“Ahh, yes,” Johnny Steve says. “Now we are getting close.”

“He’s right,” Globlet says. “Look.”

Squinting, I see something in the sky—way, way off in the distance. It takes me a second to realize that they are Wretches—they’re so far away they don’t look any bigger than seagulls.

There are a dozen of them, lazily circling in the sky, like buzzards.

“We simply follow these tracks,” Johnny Steve says, pointing. “Thataway.”

I look down at the train tracks.

“Thataway” leads east.

But I have to wonder. . . . Railroad tracks are like man-made rivers—you follow them long enough, and you’ll always get someplace helpful. And I wonder what someplace helpful might lie in the other direction.

There is a sign at the crossing. Moss has grown over it, and it’s covered in caked-on dirt. I step toward it, reach out, and wipe it off. Beneath the grime, I see the words: Shady Side. Two miles west.

Shady Side. That rings a bell. I’ve seen that name before . . .

Of course. THE MAP! After the Monster Apocalypse, during the months when I was alone at the middle school—I spent endless hours poring over a map of Wakefield and all its surrounding towns and cities.

I was looking for places where survivors might have ended up, like army bases. I didn’t find any. But man, I looked at those maps for so long. I’d never forget a single town name.

The reason I know the name Shady Side: it’s on the same train line as Wakefield! If I follow these tracks west, I will GET BACK HOME.

I stare down at the tracks. Home. Wakefield. It’s close. And I’m tempted.

It’s what I want to do.

I could pat Neon on the rear-end and send him off on his merry way. I bet Johnny Steve could get him back to the nest. Maybe.

But I look back.

And I see Neon staring at me.

Neon showed me something, when we were underwater. It was a memory. Me and my friends, happy together. And then he showed me another memory—himself, flying with other Wretches.

It makes sense. . . . I want to get home to Wakefield, to my friends.

Neon wants to get back to his family, his kind.

But if I don’t take Neon back, then sooner or later, the Rifters will catch him. They’ll take him to Thrull. And that will be bad for my whole dimension.

But wait, I think. What if there’s another way?

We could all go back to Wakefield! I’d get Jack and Quint and Dirk! We’d fry up some pretzel-sprinkled watermelon, throw some old-school dance tunes on the stereo. And then, together, we could all deliver Neon to the Wretches’ nest.

We could finish this mission as a team.

Sure, it would take longer. But it’s the smarter move! The safer move!

And I’m nearly decided. Turning to my companions, I say, “Guys, I’m thinking about a change of plans—”

REEEARGH!

It is a spine-chilling, goose-bumps-raising roar. “Ogres!” Globlet says, looking over her shoulder like they’re right behind her.

“They must have reached the flooded town,” Johnny Steve says.

I gulp. “And if they saw the Ploonk strung up, they’d know it was our doing. That would put them right back on our trail.”

“NEON!” Johnny Steve exclaims. He hurries toward him. Neon is on the ground—and his entire body is shaking. I rush over, kneeling down. I try to run my hand over his back, where his wings used to be, but he caws and bangs and pushes me away.

“Don’t worry, we won’t let them get you. We won’t let them take you to Thrull.”

REEEARGH!

Another Ogre roar! Louder! Closer!

Neon caws and howls and bangs his body against the ground! I reach down, but he swats my hand away and runs!

“NEON! NO!” I shout.

He’s racing down the tracks with his head down like a rodeo bull, just trying to get as far away from those Ogre howls as he can.

But he’s going the wrong way—away from Wakefield.

I give one last look behind us, toward home—and then I take off, running as fast I can after Neon.

It’s dusk when we finally catch up to him. Geez, I thought I was fast, but Neon is like lightning on four legs. He’s lying alongside a little creek. The water is covered in glowing green algae.

“Neon!” I cry out. I’m happy to see him—but only for a moment.

Neon shoots up. He was sleeping. He must have worn himself out running.

“What is wrong with you?!” I cry out. “Why did you just run? That wasn’t FAIR! I had a plan! We were gonna go—”

And then I just stop, because I’ve run out of steam. Too tired to yell. Too tired to argue.

“We need to hurry,” Johnny Steve says. “The Rifters will not be long.”

So much for returning to Wakefield now. So much for finishing this with my friends. I scoop up Globlet, plop her on my shoulder, and begin walking down the tracks.

“C’mon, guys,” I say softly, having a hard time hiding my disappointment. “Time to go. Destination: Wretches’ nest.”