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.

Plague