“You heard her,” Caine said.
“No,” Sanjit said. “It’s not good for our leprosy to be exposed.”
Caine took a deep breath. “I’m going to count to three and then I’m going to throw your little lying friend there straight into a tree. Just like I did with this sheep.”
“He’ll do it,” Diana warned. “Don’t believe he won’t.”
Sanjit hung his head.
“Sorry,” Choo said. “I screwed it up.”
Sanjit began unwinding the gauze from his perfectly healthy fingers. “Okay, you got us. So, allow me to welcome you to San Francisco de Sales Island.”
“Thanks,” Caine said dryly.
“And yes, we do have some food. Maybe you’d like to join us? Unless you want to stick with your sheep sushi.”
Throughout the morning and early afternoon, the shell-shocked kids of Perdido Beach milled around, lost and confused.
But Albert was neither lost nor confused. Throughout the day kids came to his office in the McDonald’s. He had a booth there, in a corner by the window so he could look out on the plaza and see what passed by.
“Hunter came in with a deer,” a kid reported. “And some birds. About seventy-five pounds of usable meat.”
“Good,” Albert said.
Quinn came in, looking tired and smelling of fish. He sagged into the seat across from Albert. “We went back out. We didn’t do very well since we got started late. But we have maybe fifty pounds usable.”
“That’s good work,” Albert said. He calculated in his head. “We have about six ounces a head of meat. Nothing from the fields.” He tapped the table, thinking. “It’s not worth opening the mall. We’ll do a cookout in the plaza. Roast up the meat, make a stew out of the fish. Charge a ’Berto a head.”
Quinn shook his head. “Man, you really want to get all these kids together in one place? Freaks and normals? As crazed as everyone is?”
Albert thought that over. “We don’t have time to open the mall and we need to get this product out there.”
Quinn made a half smile. “Product.” He shook his head. “Dude, the one guy I’m not worried about when the FAYZ ends—or even if it doesn’t—is you, Albert.”
Albert nodded in agreement, accepting the flattery as a simple statement of fact. “I keep my focus.”
“Yes. You do,” Quinn agreed in a tone that made Albert wonder just what he meant.
“Hey, by the way, one of my guys thinks he saw Sam. Up on the rocks, just down from the power plant,” Quinn said.
“Sam’s not back here yet?”
Quinn shook his head. “The number one question I keep hearing: where is Sam?”
Albert curled his lip. “I think Sam’s having some kind of breakdown.”
“Well, he’s got a right, doesn’t he?” Quinn said.
“Maybe,” Albert allowed. “But mostly I think he’s just pouting. He’s mad because he’s not the only person in charge anymore.”
Quinn shifted uncomfortably. “He’s the one who goes right into the danger when most of us are sitting on our butts or hiding under a table.”
“Yeah. But that’s his job, isn’t it? I mean, the council pays him twenty ’Bertos a week, which is twice what most people make.”
Quinn didn’t look as if he liked that explanation very much. “Doesn’t change the fact that he could get killed. And, you know, i
t’s still not fair pay or anything. My guys make ten ’Bertos a week to fish, and it’s hard work, but dude, a lot of people could do that job. Only one guy can do Sam’s job.”