By then, Sheriff Nakamura had gotten Black Mailbox Albert into the back of his squad car and hurried over to join us. “You mean station,” he said.

Smile. “No, unfortunately we’ve determined that this matter will have to be handled at the temporary facility we’ve set up for the length of our investigation.” Smile.

“Well, we’ve got our own investigation on our hands,” the sheriff said. “We need to get the kids’ statements about a murder suspect. In fact, we’ll be needing to get a statement from my son down at the station as well.”

Smile. “As soon as we’ve finished with him, and the others, we’ll bring them straight to you.” Smile.

“These kids have just endured something terrible,” the sheriff said.

Smile. “And this is a matter of safety. We have to verify there’s been no . . . contamination. It shouldn’t take long.” Smile.

The smile hadn’t worked on him, and she could tell. “I understand you’re concerned about your nephew, but the sooner we handle this, the sooner he and your son and the others will be able to get back to their lives.”

He’d squared his shoulders, gone rigid like he was caught halfway between fight and flight.

Even now, wedged into the Suburban’s leathery back seat between Sofía and Levi, I didn’t know the answer.

If I tried to burn out the energy now, what would happen? Would being useless to them help or hurt me? And what about the others?

Was staying calm and playing dumb our way out of this? Or were we climbing into their cage?

Maybe there was no way out, whether we fought or not.

And Remy. What about Remy? He was already in their custody. . . .

I closed my eyes and focused on calming the skitter of my heart and the tautly humming cord of energy through me.

It was so stuffy in the car it was hard to get oxygen.

Breathe. Stay calm and don’t think about anything.

One popping light bulb and I’d lose plausible deniability about Molly the Alien.

I’d risk all our lives.

They’d taken Levi’s and Sofía’s phones (Smile. “Just a precaution.” Smile.) as soon as we were in the car, out of the sheriff’s sight. We had no idea where the others were.

The thought of my brother—being taken, alone, out of Walmart and shoved into the back of a car by armed guards—sparked hot across my mind, and I pushed it away as fast as I could.

I couldn’t panic, and panicking was all my muscles, heart, and brain seemed bent on doing.

What about Remy?

Don’t think don’t think don’t think.

Had they really told our dad to come to the compound? Would he even come if they had?

Don’t think don’t think don’t think.

Fear spiraled through my stomach, twining around the cord of electrical charge like the stripes on a barbershop pole. I changed my mantra.

Remy will be okay. Arthur will be okay. We will be okay.

I opened my eyes. In the front passenger seat, Agent Rothstadt hurried to smile. It reminded me of something.

It reminded me of Black Mailbox Bill.

It reminded me of hunger.

We’d stopped at a railway crossing. The SUV ahead of us had made it across, but we’d just missed our chance—the automatic gate began to lower, blocking the road from the tracks.

Rothstadt straightened in her seat, facing the fog rolling up from the tracks over the quickly darkening windshield. She dropped the smile immediately, an actor exiting the stage to hide in the wings. She sighed, checking her watch.

Sofía caught my eyes. If she was trying to communicate something, I wasn’t getting it.

The train had reached us, chugging past in screaming bursts, the road trembling, the car rocking.

Sofía mouthed something: Wait.

For what, I didn’t know, but she clearly knew something was coming.

The passing train blotted out most of the moonlight, sending it through only in blips between cars.

In the flickering blue light, with his eyebrows peaked, Levi looked toward us. Something had changed in the car, an energy all three of us felt. The buzz through me felt like the plucked string of a harp, only instead of slowing, the vibration was speeding up.

My heartbeat followed. Stay calm, I told myself. Wait.

The last car of the train whipped past. Its metallic groans, the shriek and chug and breathy whistling, faded. The red lights stopped flashing. The gate lifted.

The camouflage-donning driver didn’t move. Rothstadt looked at him. We all did.

But he was staring at the manila envelope resting on the dashboard. It was shivering, tap-tap-tapping against the plastic as it rumbled. The train was gone but the whole car was still shaking.

“What’s that?” Rothstadt asked.

The driver shook his head. Rothstadt turned in her seat. Smile. “Almost there.” Smile.

She nodded toward the tracks. The guard seemed unsure, but he put the car in drive and rolled over the uneven surface with a th-thunk. The fog washed over the car in waves, thick, strangling blankets.

We th-thunked back onto the road. The guard huffed, flashed his brights into the writhing wall of white. “What the . . . ?” he said under his breath. Rothstadt checked her watch.

Sofía’s eyes stayed on the rattling manila envelope.

We were crawling along the road now. The fog was too thick to see the pavement, or the grazing pastures that rolled along our left, the cornfield and electrical towers up ahead.