About time,” Brianna said.“Hey, sorry, we were kind of busy,” Quinn snapped. “And I didn’t exactly realize I was on a schedule.”“I don’t like what I have to do here,” Brianna said. She handed Quinn the note. He read it. Read it again.“Is this some kind of joke?” he demanded.”Albert’s dead,” Brianna said. “Murdered.”“What?”“He’s dead. Sam and Deck are off in the wilderness somewhere. Emilio’s got the flu, he might die, a lot of kids have. A lot. And there are these, these monsters, this kind of bugs. . . No one knows what to call them. . . Heading toward town.” Her face contorted in a mix of rage and sorrow and fear. She blurted, “And I can’t stop them!” Quinn stared at her. Then back at the note. He felt his contented little universe tilt and go sliding away. There were just two words on the paper: “Get Caine.

— Michael Grant

Albert had created a currency based on gold bullets and McDonald’s game pieces. He’d wanted to call the currency something else, but no one remembered what. So, ’Berths they were, a play on “Albert,” coined by Howard, of course, who had also come up with “the FAY” to describe their weird little world. Sam had thought Albert was nuts with his obsession with creating money. But the evidence was in: Albert’s system was producing just enough food for kids to survive. And a lot more kids were working. Far fewer were just hanging out. It was no longer impossible to get kids to go into the fields and do the backbreaking work of picking crops. They worked for ’Berths and spent ’Berths, and for now at least starvation was just a bad memory.

— Michael Grant

Albert, I don’t know how long we can keep Sam involved at all,” she said.“You’re upset,” Albert replied.”Yes, I’m upset. But that’s not the point. Sam is out of control. If we’re ever going to have a working system we may have to find someone else to play the role of savior.” Albert sighed. “Astrid, we don’t know what’s out there in the night. And maybe you’re right that Sam is out of control. But me? I’m really glad it’s him out there getting ready to face whatever it is.” Albert picked up his omnipresent notebook and left. To a now empty, silent room, Astrid said, “Don’t die, Sam. Don’t die.

— Michael Grant

A man without pleasure is a man without any idea what life is about

— Michael Grant

And he thought of the two people who had held his job before him: Sam and Astrid. Both beaten into despair by trying to hold this group of kids together in the face of one disaster after another. Both of them now happy to let Emilio handle it.“No wonder,” Emilio muttered.”Stay inside unless absolutely necessary,” Emilio shouted, and not for the first or last time wished he was still just Sam’s faithful sidekick.

— Michael Grant

And then the turbines generate electricity that goes into the whole town."" You mean they aren't powered by giant hamsters on wheels? I was misinformed.

— Michael Grant

And yes, we do have some food. Maybe you'd like to join us? Unless you want to stick with your sheep sushi.

— Michael Grant

Anna and Emma just roofed.”“What?”“I was standing there. I was watching them. I was holding Anna’s hand when it happened.” Astrid rose and without really thinking about it wrapped her arms around Sam like she did when she was trying to comfort Little Pete. But unlike Little Pete, Sam responded to her touch by awkwardly hugging her back. For a moment his face was in her hair and she heard his ragged breathing close to her ear. And it seemed like they might do it again, the kissing thing, but then, both at once, they pushed away.“She was scared,” Sam said. “Anna, I mean. She saw Emma disappear. They were born just six minutes apart. So, first Emma. Then Anna, waiting for it. Knowing it was coming.

— Michael Grant

An old couple came running from a motorhome, scribbling as they ran. Their sign read, Can you check on our cat, Ariel? No one would answer that, because the cats had all been eaten.

— Michael Grant

As Sam came to a panting stop, a jet of orange flame burst from a high window. Several dozen kids were standing, watching. A crowd that struck Sam as very strange, until he realized why it was strange: there were no adults, just kids.“Is anyone in there?” Astrid called out. No one answered.“It could spread,” Sam said.”There’s no 911,” someone pointed out.”If it spreads, it could burn down half the town.”“You see a fireman anywhere?” A helpless shrug. The day care shared a wall with the hardware store, and both were only a narrow alley away from the burning building. Sam figured they had time to get the kids out of the day care if they acted fast, but the hardware store was something they could not afford to lose. There had to be forty kids just standing there gawking. No one seemed about to start doing anything.“Great,” Sam said. He grabbed two kids he sort of knew. “You guys, go to the day care. Tell them to get the little out of there.” The kids stared at him without moving.“Now. Go. Do it!” he said, and they took off running. Sam pointed at two other kids. “You and you. Go into the hardware store, get the longest hose you can find. Get a spray nozzle, too. I think there’s a spigot in that alley. Start spraying water on the side of the hardware store and up on the roof.” These two also stared blankly. “Dudes: Not tomorrow. Now. Now. Go! Quinn? You better go with them. We want to wet down the hardware—that’s where the wind will take the fire next.” Quinn hesitated. People were not getting this. How could they not see that they had to do something, not just stand around? Sam pushed to the front of the crowd and in a loud voice said, “Hey, listen up, this isn’t the Disney Channel. We can’t just watch this happen. There are no adults. There’s no fire department. We are the fire department.” Edilio was there. He said, “Sam’s right. What do you need, Sam? I’m with you.”“Okay. Quinn? The hoses from the hardware store. Emilio? Let’s get the big hoses from the fire station, hook ’em up to the hydrant.”“They’ll be heavy. I’ll need some strong guys.”“You, you, you, you.” Sam grabbed each person’s shoulder, shaking each one, pushing them into motion. “Come on. You. You. Let’s go!

— Michael Grant