If Little Pete died, God only knew what would happen to this universe that he had created. And if kids ever really guessed how powerful Little Pete was, and yet how vulnerable, how long would he be left to live?

“I asked how long you think we can keep this up?” Howard repeated.

“I don’t know, man,” Sam said. “I guess we take it day by day.”

“Like everything,” Howard agreed.

There came the faint sound of Drake’s voice. A muffled howl of fury.

“He does that when he gets control,” Howard said. “That and a lot of threatening. Mostly, ‘I’ll kill you all!’ That kind of thing. I’m kind of getting used to it.”

“It wants us to be afraid. It wants us to give up,” Sam said.

Howard formed his sly grin. “Yeah, well, we don’t want to do that, do we?”

“No. No, we don’t.”

But that mad, screaming voice, even muffled as it was, still sent a chill up Sam’s spine.

“You guys need anything?” Sam asked.

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Howard answered. “You mean, aside from a hamburger, a peach pie, a bucket of ice cream, a DVD, a TV, a phone, a computer, and a one-way ride out of crazy-town?”

Sam almost smiled. “Yeah. Aside from that.”

He went back outside. The street was empty. The unreal sun shone high overhead. He doubled over and coughed. The flu that was still going around had finally caught up with him.

But he was alive. And that was all you could ever ask from the FAYZ.



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