Chapter 13

chapter thirteen When I first hear the sound, I assume it's just a ringing in my ears—a result of Quint teaching Globlet how to play slapjack, a game she has some trouble understanding... But the buzzing sound builds toward cacophonous as we drive, and I realize it's something much worse than Globlet face slaps. "Strayfurs," I snarl.

The road curves, and suddenly we're bearing down on hundreds of stopped vehicles. A monster traffic jam. I jerk the bone-shift back. Seabiscuit clamps down, halting so quick that Globlet is flung from her seat. She smashes into the window with a SCHPLOOT, clings to it for a moment like a sticky hand, and then plops onto the dashboard. "Globlet, take the wheel," I say as she stands, eyes spinning like a cartoon character's. "No problem!" she says, hopping over. Oh, don't actually take it. I meant just hold the wheel for a second. Well, then you should have said that I yank the wheel from her and jam it back into place.

I stand up in my seat, poking my head through the open roof. Looking out, I see trucks like giant, mutated caterpillars. Caravans of hollowed-out carapaces. None of them moving. Then I see why... "Debra-Bulb..." I say. Quint squints. "Incredibly horrific," he notes. I nod, biting my lip as I watch Debra-Bulb and their gang of strayfurs search every vehicle that passes through their blockade. Debra-Bulb barks out orders. It's faint, but I hear something about the boy and the hand.

"How did they know we'd be going this way?" I wonder nervously. I'm trying not to let myself get hijacked by frustration or fear. Globlet timidly plucks gum from her leg. "Whoops. That may have been a Globlet Goof. Should I not have painted hidden city or bust on our rear bumper G Blis? The strayfurs are buzzing low, examining each vehicle. Some draw a closer look from Debra-Bulb. And when I watch Debra-Bulb tear another car in half and begin interrogating the occupants, my mind is made up.

"We need to get off this road," I say, turning the wheel. "We'll wait until dark. Hopefully we can sneak past then."— Moments later, I'm steering Seabiscuit through a field of furry grass as high as a basketball hoop. I'm hoping it's tall enough to keep us tucked away if Debra-Bulb does a flyby. Seabiscuit is happy to give her fingers a rest, finding a small mound and plopping down atop it. She must fall asleep right away, because soon the taxi is gently bobbing and swaying. Globlet is next to drift into dreamland. She removes a mouth guard from her belly—something I really want to question—and curls up. Soon, spit bubbles are dripping from her mouth. I want to stay alert, because who knows what brain splittingly bizarre new threat might pop up next. But I feel a nap coming on—the type you can't beat. In the back seat, Quint's tinkering with the conjurer's cannon, and the sound is oddly soothing. I'm drifting off to sleep when I hear Quint whisper, "Jack, guess what? We're having a sleepover in another dimension."

I blink my eyes open, smiling. "You're right. Dude, life got pretty weird, huh?" "Indeed, friend." At the end of the world, in a monster-zombie apocalypse, you end up catching zzz's in a lot of weird spots. Junkyards, classrooms, shopping malls. It's like an endless string of strange sleepovers. My favorite, though, was the first night after Quint and I reunited. Forty-three days after the Monster Apocalypse began. We made Mr. Goodbar s'mores, then stayed up until two a.m. playing Mario Kart and talking and laughing about anything and everything.