“A small hole in his shirt revealed a gooey red blob right in the meaty part above his armpit, blood pouring from the wound. It hurt. It hurt bad. If he’d thought his headache downstairs had been tough, this was like three or four of those, all smashed into a coil of pain right there in his shoulder. And spreading through the rest of his body.Newt was at his side, looking down with worried eyes.“He shot me.” It just came out, a new number one on the list of the dumbest things he’d ever said. The pain, like living metal staples running through his insides, pricking and scratching with their little sharp points. He felt his mind going dark for the second time that day.”

“For the first time in his life, Michael understood why real soldiers coming back from real wars often had a hard time getting over the things they'd seen and done. And had done to them. If Michael had a soul, it was starting to leak out of his hopes.”

“Taste good?” Brenda asked as she dug into her own food. “Please. I’d push my own mom down the stairs to eat this stuff,” Thomas said. “I’d kill your mother for something fresh out of a garden. A nice salad.” “Guess my mom doesn’t have much of a chance if she’s ever standing between us and a grocery store.” “Guess not.”

“They called you the Glue""The Glue?""Yeah. Probably because you're kind of the glue that holds us all together”

“Just go with it', he thought. 'You won't figure out anything if you give in to fear'.”

“He forced himself forward trying to seem innocent without acting like someone who was guilty who was trying to act innocent.”

“Thomas was sick of being accused of knowing things.”

“We can’t try to outguess them anymore. Sometimes they do things just to make me do the opposite of what they think I think they think I want to do.”“Huh?” the three of them asked at the same time, confusion transforming their faces.”

“Thomas remembered the image of the Cranks at the windows back at the dorm. Like living nightmares, missing only a death certificate to make them official zombies.”

“Brenda frowned, then focused on Thomas. “You’re—we’re—doing the right thing.”“I don’t think there is a right or wrong anymore,” Thomas said, hearing the numbness in his own voice. He desperately wanted sleep. “Only horrible and not-quite-so-horrible.”

“He turned to look just in time to see the rain start falling out as if the storm had finally decided to weep with shame for what it had done to them.”