“Yeah,” Lance agreed.

“Okay, here’s what we do,” Zil said, laying out his plan.

Turk, Hank, Lisa, and Zil took the long way around the house to come up from the other side. Lance had been given a crucial role to play because Hunter didn’t know him and had no reason to fear him.

When all was in readiness, Lance stood up behind the fence. “Hey, dude.”

Hunter spun, guilty and scared. “What are you doing sneaking up on me? Who are you?”

“Dude, chill. I just smelled the meat. I’m hungry.”

Hunter looked deeply suspicious. “I was going to sell it to Albert. Everyone can have some. I just fell asleep, is all, after I got some food. But I was getting it ready now.”

Lance climbed over the fence, careful to look nonthreatening. “How about I help you skin that animal? In exchange for a little taste? Plus, you know you have to cut out its guts, right?”

“Of course I know that,” Hunter said defensively. “I was getting ready to do that.”

Zil thought it was obvious his old roommate knew no such thing. He watched, nervous and impatient, while Lance moved smoothly, confidently toward Hunter.

Hunter’s whole attention seemed to be focused on the big, good-looking boy. But he wasn’t attacking. He wasn’t even threatening.

“Now,” Zil whispered.

He and Hank were first through the gate. They moved quickly, but quietly, not quite running.

The mistake came when Lance glanced at them. Hunter saw the flicker in the boy’s eyes, looked over his shoulder, spotted Zil, turned too late, and caught Hank’s crowbar in the forehead.

He dropped like a sack of rocks.

Hank raised it up to hit him again. “That’s enough,” Zil said, staying Hank’s hand. “Tie him up. Foil his hands.” Then when Turk started tying Hunter’s hands in front of him, he said, “No, you moron, tie them in back.”

Turk grinned sheepishly. “That’s why you’re the leader.”

They bound Hunter tightly. Then Lisa came forward with a roll of Reynolds aluminum foil and wrapped it again and again around Hunter’s hands.

Turk then wound a roll of duct tape around Hunter’s hands, imprisoning the fingers.

Hunter did not move.

Zil took two steps, snatched up Hunter’s dropped knife, and cut a hunk of meat from the deer’s hindquarters. The chunk of meat was half cooked, half near raw. He attacked the meat like a hungry wolf. The others laughed and did likewise. Turk ate too much and vomited into a corner of the fence. Then came back to reload.

They fed and laughed with joy at their conquest.

Hunter began to stir. He moaned.

“Too bad we don’t have cement around,” Zil said. “Drake knew what he was doing when he plastered the freaks.”

“Drake’s a freak, though, isn’t he?” Lisa asked innocently.

The question gave Zil pause. Was Drake a freak? His whip hand had, according to legend, grown to replace the arm Sam had burned off in a fight.

“I guess he is. I don’t know for sure,” Zil said thoughtfully, chewing the venison.

“We need, like, some way of figuring out,” Turk said.

Hunter moaned louder.

“The freak’s waking up,” Lance said. “He’s going to have a headache.”

That struck Zil as funny. He laughed. And when he laughed, the others joined in. “See, guys: stick with me and we get nice, fresh meat.”

“Got that right,” Turk said.

“So, leader, is it time to deal with this chud?” Hank asked, respectful but impatient.

Zil laughed again. The food in his belly filled him with a sense of well-being. He felt almost giddy. And a little sleepy now, with the sun going down.

And he liked the use of “leader” as a title for him. It fit. It felt fine.

Zil Sperry. Leader of the Human Crew.

“Sure,” Zil said. “Let’s have ourselves a trial.” He glanced around the yard. “Turk and Hank, drag him over to the back steps, prop him up.”

Hunter could not seem to sit all the way up. He was conscious, but not fully. One of his eyeballs looked funny, and Zil realized it was because the pupil was twice as big as the other. It gave Hunter a stupid look that made Zil laugh.

“You should have just admitted you stole my jerky,” he scolded Hunter.

Hank knelt down to get right in Hunter’s face. “Do you confess that you stole the leader’s jerky?”

Hunter’s head lolled to one side. He seemed to be trying to speak, but all that came out was a slurred sound.

“Blrrrr gllll pluh,” Turk mimicked.

“I think he said, ‘Yeah, I did it,’” Hank mocked.

“I’ll interpret for him,” Turk said.

Hank asked, “Hunter, do you admit you killed Harry?”

Hunter said nothing, but Turk supplied the answer. “I sure do. I am a freak, nonhuman, chud scum who killed Harry.”

Zil laughed happily. “What can we do? He confessed.” He adopted a severe tone. “Hunter, I pronounce you guilty. Guilty as charged.”

“Now what?” Lisa wondered. “He’s hurt. Maybe we should let him go.”

Zil was about to agree. His rage against Hunter was mostly burned out, the flames smothered by his sense of joy at having a full belly.

“Going soft on a freak, Lisa?” Hank taunted.

“No,” Lisa said quickly.

Hank looked hard at her. “You think if we let him go he’ll just forget about this? No. He’ll get together with the other freaks and come after us. You think Sam will be gentle with us?”